In the beginning, there was only light. It was a pure, omnipresent, dazzling light, but it was far from benevolent.
It did not illuminate; it consumed. It did not warm; it burned. This light was the will of the gods, an indomitable force that ruled the world and imposed its blinding glare on every living being.
Those who bowed to this light who worshiped it fervently, offering prayers, sacrifices, and absolute devotion received immeasurable blessings in return. The chosen ones children of monarchs and noble lineages were marked by divine grace and elevated to the rank of saints. Their blood was gold, and their souls were forged in the sacred fire of the heavens. They were called the Sons and Daughters of Light, the Holy Kings, and the Archangels of Earth.
Beyond these perfect cities, beyond the ramparts of light and divine towers, lay the Forgotten Lands. It was a realm of ashes and shadows where the gods exiled those deemed unworthy of their splendor.
These lands had no gold or silk, no pomp or opulence. The villages were made of rough stone and blackened wood and were swept by icy winds that carried the whispers of abandoned souls. These were the lands of the exiles and the banished. They were called sinners.
But In the depths of Tartarus, where no light penetrated, lived the damned in underground cities. The Damned were not born that way. They had once been like everyone else, men and women with names, families, and homes. But they opposed the gods, defying and swearing to kill them. For this, they were damned and condemned to live in Tartarus without ever setting foot on the surface again.
Each of them bore a different curse engraved in their flesh and imprinted in their blood. Over the centuries without a shred of light, their physical appearance changed: their skin became pitch black, and their eyes became flaming red. They were called demons.
Horned children ran around, laughing and bumping into passersby. Street vendors shouted their prices at the top of their lungs. The smell of grilled meat and spices wafted from the street stalls. At the bend in an alley, you could always run into Karube, a charlatan demon trying to sell his dubious potions.
"Come closer! Come closer!" he shouted, brandishing a green vial. "Just one drop, and you'll regain the vigor of a twenty-year-old demon!"
"Ha! Vigour?" sneered a matron with an enormous belly. "You already sold me your 'miracle potion' last week, Karube, and my husband still sleeps like a log!"
"Because you needed two drops, you fool!" Karube replied, raising his skinny arms to the sky.
"What did you say..."
"On top of that, you're deaf. Unfortunately, I don't have a potion for that."
The argument broke out immediately, attracting a small crowd of onlookers. Everyone in Tartarus knew Karube. Some swore that his concoctions could kill a dragon; others said his vials contained nothing but stagnant water. But no one could deny that he brought life to the place.
The underground city stretched as far as the eye could see and was carved out of an immense cavity in a forbidden world. Stone bridges connected the neighborhoods like spiderwebs, suspended above chasms where torrents of lava roared. The farther one ventured from the main squares, the narrower and more winding the alleys became. Sometimes they were so narrow that one had to walk sideways to cross them.
Further on, a horned baker took still-smoking loaves out of the oven. The smell spread through the street and attracted children, who stretched out their little hands to steal a piece. The baker chased them away, shouting and waving his hot shovel like a weapon.
Then, at the corner of the square, a town crier announced the latest news from the deep mines.
"Collapse in gallery thirteen! Three injured, no fatalities! Production will resume tomorrow!"
Some passersby sighed; others shrugged. In Tartarus, death was background noise, but life never stopped.
In this colorful hustle and bustle, everyone had their place, their role, and their story.
Everyone... except one.
A few leagues from the central market, where the lava's glow barely illuminated the walls, stood a small hut. It was made of dark wood, eaten away by damp and time, and assembled crookedly as if it had been built hastily. All around was silence. No laughter or cries, only the distant breath of the caves.
This was where Sōgiya lived. He was a 9-year-old orphan whom the inhabitants of Tartarus whispered about as the undertaker. His flaming red eyes sometimes watched the city from above, but he never went down there. He knew his shadow brought misfortune and his touch brought death. At his birth, he had cost his mother her life, then his father's, and even the midwives who had tried to help. Seven minutes. That was how long anyone he touched had to live before dying in the embers.
Only one being had never strayed from him: Fullfire, a grumpy, glowing will-o'-the-wisp with a tongue sharper than a blade. Fullfire had always floated close to him, accompanying him in his solitude like a brother in misfortune.
"You know," Fullfire muttered, circling above the rickety roof, "if you spend another day staring at the rock, we'll both turn into stone."
Sōgiya gave a faint smile.
"What if I went down to the village?"
"Bad idea," replied the spirit, his flames crackling with annoyance. "Last time, we had to run because an old woman accused you of killing her sick husband. Do you want them to hang you from the city gate?"
Sōgiya did not reply. His slender hands clenched on his knees. He had never asked to be born this way. Yet, with every breath he took, every step he took, and every glance he cast at another living being, he reminded the inhabitants that death was never far away.
Buried deep in his heart was his only wish: to one day be loved by his own people.
Sōgiya stared at the ceiling of his hut, his eyes lost in the cracks in the wood.
Fullfire orbited around him, throwing out little red sparks to get his attention.
"Do you know what you look like?" the spirit asked mockingly.
"What?"
"A gravestone. Seriously, you spend your days sitting there silently, like the dead. Even the ghosts in the caves must find that depressing."
Sōgiya looked away, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.
"I just want to be able to go downstairs. To sit at a table. To taste warm bread. To hear someone call my name without fear."
A heavy silence fell, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Then the spirit spat out,
"You dream too much, kid. Your people will never see you as anything but a walking coffin."
Before Sōgiya could reply, a commotion erupted in the distance. There were shouts and insults, and the sound of hurried footsteps. A few seconds later, a figure emerged from the shadows of the hut. It was a stocky demon with a sparse beard who was carrying a bag bulging with various objects that jingled with every step.
"By the horns of old Beelzebub!" he gasped, glancing behind him. "If those idiots catch me, they'll make me swallow my vials one by one!"
It was Karube, who was well known in Tartarus for his "miracle potions" and shameless scams. He knew no one would dare follow him this far; the place was too close to the undertaker's hut.
When he saw Sōgiya, he broke into a broad smile and caught his breath.
"Ah! My favorite little demon! You're just in time. I was coming to visit you, somewhat against my will."
He rummaged through his bag and pulled out some provisions: a warm loaf of bread, two crimson fruits, and a small, roughly carved wooden figurine.
"Here's a gift. I thought you might be bored here. Besides, if I keep this on me, those idiots will snatch it away."
Sōgiya hesitated, his bright eyes fixed on the food.
"You know you don't have to, Uncle Karube..."
"Oh, yes, I do," the demon replied with a wink.. Besides, you have an aura...how can I put it? Let's just say that no one will bother me here. I'm killing two birds with one stone."
Fullfire stepped in, his flames crackling.
"You never do anything without an ulterior motive, Karube. What do you want this time?"
The demon raised his hands to the sky, feigning indignation. Still out of breath, he collapsed onto an old, wobbly stool in the hut. He shot Sōgiya a mischievous look.
"Come, come. No harm done! Just a little chat. Tell me, Sōgiya, how are you?"
Karube shrugged. Sōgiya held the warm bread close to him like a treasure.
"Same as always. I don't have much to do. Fullfire is with me, but that doesn't change my loneliness."
"Don't be silly, you ungrateful brat!"
"Sorry, my little flame, but the other children are playing in the city. I'm staying here. Nobody wants me."
A short silence ensued. Even Fullfire, who was usually quick to respond, remained silent, crackling softly like a slow-burning fire.
Karube scratched his beard, his gaze more tender than usual.
"You know, kid, Tartarus is full of curses. There are damned souls who burn everything they touch; others who turn to stone at the slightest ray of light; and some who hear voices until they go mad. You're not the only one carrying a burden."
"But my curse kills people. It's not the same."
The old merchant sighed, then leaned forward.
"Listen, Sōgiya. If you want the truth, there are rumors... In the old forbidden writings, those written by the first demons before we were locked up here, it is said that a curse can only be lifted by killing the one who cast it."
Sōgiya suddenly raised his head, his eyes wide open.
"You mean the god who cursed us?"
"Exactly," Karube nodded. "But don't think it's that simple. It's impossible to reach the surface. In front of the entrance to Tartarus is the last rampart. It's an unknown entity that kills anyone who tries to pass through the gates. The gods placed this creature there to prevent us from returning to the surface. Even if you managed to do so... Facing a deity is asking to die before you've even raised your weapon."
"The last rampart..."
"I've heard of it too. Just the name strikes fear into the hearts of all demons," said Fullfire. "You were too young, but several demons have died trying to pass through the last rampart. It ended in a massacre, and the king forbade anyone from approaching the gates again.
"Some of us finally accepted that we are forever prisoners of Tartarus. There have been massacres over the years. Even before you were born, Sōgiya, we saw dark days. Fortunately, everything is fine now."
He rose slowly, adjusting his bag. Before walking through the door, he placed an old, dusty book on the table.
"Here. It's not worth much, but it tells the story of Tartarus. Maybe it will keep you busy. Keep it; I have no use for it anymore."
Without waiting for a response, he left, disappearing into the darkness.
Sōgiya stood motionless for a moment, staring at the book. His fingers hesitated to caress the cover. Meanwhile, Fullfire immediately became agitated, twirling around nervously.
"Don't get any ideas in your head, you dark fool. Do you really think you're going to climb up there? With your twiggy legs and head full of dreams?"
"Of course not... don't worry"
He burst into a shower of sparks as if to divert her attention.
"Come on! Let's have some fun!" I found an underground passage that leads to the lava pools. We'll sneak in. You'll see; it's dangerous and completely forbidden. It's just what you need to forget about this curse business!"
The underground tunnels wound like veins of burning rock. Sōgiya followed Fullfire, who twirled around in front of him, laughing.
"Faster, kid! You're going to lose me!"
"I'm running as fast as I can!"
Suddenly, they emerged onto a huge lava pool. Incandescent waves bubbled, illuminating the walls with a glowing red light. The heat was suffocating, sticking sweat to Sōgiya's skin.
"It's...it's so beautiful," he whispered, fascinated by the orange glow of the flames.
But his wonder was short-lived. A shadow leapt out of the flames a gigantic feline with glowing fur and black eyes. It was a Lava Cat.
Before Sōgiya could react, the creature opened its gaping mouth and gulp! With one swift movement, it swallowed Fullfire.
"Hey!" Sōgiya shouted. "Give it back!"
The cat spat out a shower of sparks and took off at full speed into a side tunnel. Without thinking, Sōgiya set off in pursuit.
His footsteps echoed on the hot stone. His breath was short and his legs were shaking, but he didn't give up.
He stumbled and fell repeatedly, but got up again and again. Dust filled his throat; he coughed until his lungs felt like they would burst. At every turn, though, he could see the cat's flaming tail disappearing into the distance.
"Wait for me, Fullfire. Hang on..."
The chase lasted an eternity until, finally, at the bend of a narrow passage, he felt he was close to his goal. He reached out, his fingers almost brushing the cat's glowing tail.
Then the ground gave way.
A deafening crash engulfed the world. Sōgiya screamed as he tumbled into the void. He hit the rock and tore his skin against the edges before crashing heavily to the ground. Pain exploded throughout his body as if his bones had turned to broken glass.
He lay there breathlessly for a moment. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes.
Before him was a vast, darkened room with a vaulted black stone ceiling and ancient frescoes. Though dust veiled the reliefs, he could still make out silhouettes: angels with outstretched wings, seraphim with stern faces, and fragments of tarnished gilding.
Everything seemed unreal and sacred.
In the center of the room was a marble tomb, cracked by age yet still majestic. Around it stood statues of archangels, silently guarding this forgotten coffin.
Sōgiya took a step back, his heart pounding.
"Where...where have I fallen?"
The room was silent and vast, resembling a forgotten cathedral. Each of Sōgiya's steps echoed in the still air as if disturbing the sleep of the dead. Dust danced in the reddish light filtering through a crack in the ceiling, giving the place an otherworldly atmosphere, like a dream or a nightmare.
The murals seemed alive. Despite the wear and tear of time, their imposing forms were still distinguishable, angels with marble faces, seraphim brandishing swords of fire, and divine figures surrounded by bright halos. Their stony gaze seemed to follow Sōgiya's every move.
He shivered.
Half-hidden beneath soot and cracks on the left wall were ancient inscriptions stretching out like a manuscript engraved in stone. Strangely, despite never having learned this language, Sōgiya could read them. The words formed in his mind, imposing their meanings without his understanding why.
He placed his hand on the cold stone, and his eyes turned as orange as embers. The engraved images then came to life in his imagination.
He saw a colossal demon with an enormous silhouette facing an army of gods. The story told of a titanic battle in which a single cursed being had been enough to defeat the deities, reducing them to nothingness under his claws. He called himself the Devil.
But powerful entities had sacrificed themselves. In a final, desperate act, they helped a god seal the heavens, preventing the extinction of their race. They tore out the devil's eyes and destroyed his physical body. Each one was buried with honor in a sacred tomb with a silver box containing one of the demon's eyes between their arms.
Legend has it that his body was destroyed, but his spirit and power remained in his eyes, waiting to be found so that he could be reborn. They must never be reunited, which is why the tombs are scattered across the kingdom and their locations have remained unknown for more than six centuries.
Sōgiya backed away, breathless, his gaze fixed on the tomb in the center of the room. His whole body shook.
"I... I've fallen into the tomb of a god...!" he whispered, his throat dry.
It wasn't just a ruin. It was a remnant of the Dark Ages a sanctuary sealed beneath tons of stone so that no one would ever find it. And he, a cursed child, had just broken its thousand-year silence.
A sharp, almost metallic sound echoed behind him.
The lava cat sprang from a crack in the wall, its glowing eyes fixed on Sōgiya. Its mouth opened, and in a burst of flames, it spat out a glowing ball that rolled across the floor before taking shape again.
"Fucking creature!" roared Firefang, still trembling, his flame flickering with indignation. "If I see you again, I'll turn you to charcoal forever!"
The will-o'-the-wisp buzzed with rage through the air until it noticed its surroundings. Its flames calmed slightly, casting a strange glow on the frescoes and the central tomb. Unlike Sōgiya, it did not seem surprised. Intrigued, yes, but not terrified.
"So, kid, where have we ended up?" he asked, his tone wavering between curiosity and seriousness.
Still trembling, Sōgiya told him what he had read on the walls: The battle, the devil, the sacrificed gods, the gouged-out eyes. Fullfire listened without interrupting, his flames flickering faintly as if he were digesting every word. Then he burst out laughing.
"Ha! A god's tomb here? In the depths of Tartarus? That makes no sense. You're talking nonsense.
"But it's written, and I understand these words even though I never learned them," replied Sōgiya, his eyes wide.
"Then let's take a closer look," Fullfire sneered, circling the tomb.
The boy shook his head vigorously.
"No! Never! If I touch a divine tomb, I'll be cursed even more. You don't understand, Fullfire. I'm already unlucky enough as it is..."
The will-o'-the-wisp stopped in front of him, its flames intensifying like burning eyes.
"Think about it, Sōgiya. If what's written is true, and if the sky is sealed and the remaining gods have been dead for centuries, then there are no more gods. No one above. That would mean your people have been living here, buried and locked away, for centuries for nothing."
The words pierced the child's heart like blades. His breath became short. A crazy, forbidden idea began to take root in his mind. What if it was all a lie? What if he, the rejected child, could expose the lie?
He clenched his fists, his gaze fixed on the grave. His legs trembled, but a glimmer of hope lit up his eyes. Perhaps this was his chance. Maybe he wasn't born to destroy, but to liberate.
"If I bring proof to my people, they will accept me. Perhaps they will love me," he whispered.
Summoning all his courage, Sōgiya approached the tomb. The heavy, cold stone lid creaked as he pushed it. His frail muscles trembled, but he did not give up.
There was a loud crack, and then the lid slid open, revealing what time had tried to hide.
Sōgiya screamed and jumped back.
Inside was an enormous skeleton dressed in gold and silk, eaten away by dust and the passing of centuries. Yet, between its bony, dusty hands, something still shone intact.
A silver box, sealed without a trace of wear.
It seemed to be waiting.
Sōgiya stood frozen in front of the tomb with the silver box in his hands. His short breaths made his chest tremble. He did not dare look inside the coffin for too long, as if the skeleton would suddenly sit up and tear out his soul.
A few steps behind him, Fullfire stopped spinning. The usually talkative and insolent will-o'-the-wisp had taken a step back. His glow flickered softly; his red flames were tinged with an unusual gravity. His sparkling eyes seemed to scan the inside of the tomb with hatred, as if he saw something there that Sōgiya could not understand.
When the trembling boy turned back to him, Fullfire blinked as if surprised, then immediately resumed his nonchalant demeanor.
"So, kid, having fun looting graves now?" he asked in a falsely lighthearted tone.
"Should I take this box?"
"If it's irrefutable evidence, you don't really have a choice."
He floated closer and added sarcastically,
"It's not like you're suddenly going to wake up a god."
Still trembling, Sōgiya took the box from the skeleton's hands and clutched it tightly to his chest, feeling uneasy.
"I... I'm scared. I don't know why. But... I'm really scared. Maybe this isn't a good idea."
Fullfire abruptly interrupted him.
"All right, that's enough. We've been gone too long. People will think I ate you! Let's go back."
The boy nodded silently. Before leaving the room, he took one last look at the grave. With an awkward gesture, he replaced the lid as if closing a gaping wound. Then he followed Fullfire.
Behind them, the will-o'-the-wisp crackled with powerful energy, and part of the ceiling collapsed with a dull rumble, sealing off access to the room.
"There" he said, satisfied. "That way, no prying eyes."
Back at their cabin, the familiar darkness of Tartarus seemed almost reassuring. Sōgiya placed the silver box on his worn wooden table. It glowed softly, seeming out of place in such a dark place.
Meanwhile, Fullfire resumed his usual routine. He hovered above a small cauldron, throwing in dry pieces of wood and herbs he had collected and setting them alight with his own flames.
"If you think I'm going to cook for you every day, you're wrong," he muttered as he stirred the boiling broth.
But Sōgiya wasn't listening. He had opened the old book that Uncle Karube had left him. His fingers followed the lines with feverish attention. The more he read, the faster his heart beat.
The pages told the story of their people: the banishment end the war. Above all, it was the story of the "first cursed one, known as the Devil," who had dared to defy the gods. Like him, he was born with a curse so powerful that it became a weapon.
"He...he lost," Sōgiya murmured to himself. "They say he was killed, that his body was destroyed. We were driven out by the Holy Kings and the Archangels.
His hands clenched around the book.
"But what if that's not true? What if all of this is just a lie to keep us here, underground, like prisoners ?"
"If it were all lies, then the last rampart would not exist. Several demons had already tried to escape, but it's impossible to leave Tartarus"
"I understand, and I see that it's mentioned in the book. But in the tomb, the engravings on the walls mention a sealed sky and the death of the gods. This information isn't in the book. There's something we're missing..."
Fullfire approached, floating lazily.
"Do you think you've just discovered a secret that no one has ever known? Tss. You should eat and go to sleep, kid. You're going to get into trouble trying to find out too much. Don't tell anyone about this box, okay?"
But Sōgiya looked up and became serious.
"Fullfire... I've never seen a normal human being. Not a single one. I don't even know what we were before."
"Sōgiya! Are you even listening to me!?"
The will-o'-the-wisp paused, surprised by the boy's words. Then, as if to avoid the subject, he began to circle around him again.
"I'd like to go up to the surface, see what it's really like, and see humans."
"What do you think that would change? You want to see what a human looks like? Do you want to go up there and ask, 'Hello, I'm a little cursed demon. Where are the gods? Please?' You'll be cut down and killed!"
Sōgiya looked down, ashamed. But a seed had been sown in his heart.
A dangerous one.
Sōgiya remained bent over the book for a long time. Fullfire's flames cast dancing shadows across the pages as if the words themselves refused to stay put. The silver box gleamed in the corner of the room, too bright for a place where everything seemed eaten away by dust and dampness.
Finally, he looked up.
"Fullfire,...What if this box is proof that everything we've been led to believe is a lie?"
The will-o'-the-wisp burst out laughing mockingly.
"You're losing your mind, my boy. Stop talking nonsense. Put that book down. That story is going to your head."
But his voice sounded less confident than usual.
Sōgiya clenched his fists and fixed his eyes on the box.
"All right," he said.
A heavy silence filled the hut. Even Fullfire, who was usually quick to respond, remained motionless for a moment. His glowing redness was reduced to a hesitant ember.
Then, with forced lightness, he began to spin again.
"Tch. Big speeches don't fill your stomach. Eat first, kid. Save your people later."
Sōgiya smiled timidly. But his gaze immediately returned to the box. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked it up and held it against his chest. It was cold, yet a strange warmth seemed to pulse through it, like a distant heartbeat.
That night, Fullfire grumbled as he fell asleep, while Sōgiya lay awake with his eyes wide open in the darkness. The box was near his bed, and its glow seemed to grow in the darkness, as if calling to him.
He was only a nine-year-old boy who had been rejected and left alone. But deep down, he could feel it, what he had discovered that day would change his destiny and perhaps that of all Tartarus.
Sōgiya couldn't sleep. His eyes were fixed on the box. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it. He could almost hear a dull echo resonating in his head: "Open me...look at me..."
Unable to resist any longer, he finally sat up silently. His bare feet touched the cold floor. He approached slowly, almost holding his breath. His hands trembled as he rested them on the silver lid.
"I'm doing something stupid," he whispered softly, as if trying to convince himself to back away.
But he opened it.
Inside was an eye. An ink-black eye veined with scarlet threads and a yellow pupil shining like an orb. Sōgiya gasped, immediately putting a hand over his mouth so as not to wake Fullfire.
He took a step back, but his gaze remained fixed on the eye in the box. The eye was staring at him.
It was beating. First weakly, then stronger, like a heart.
Sōgiya felt his throat tighten.
"That... that's not possible..."
The more he tried to look away, the more the eye seemed to draw his gaze. It captured his mind and engulfed him in a bottomless abyss. His breathing became short and rapid.
Suddenly, a searing pain shot through his right eye. It felt like a deep, burning scratch. He immediately brought his hand to his face and felt something warm running between his fingers...blood.
He screamed, but no sound came out. His vision blurred and his pupils trembled. He realized with horror that he was losing his eye. The pain was so intense that his legs gave out.
He collapsed heavily to the ground, convulsing and breathing raggedly. The black eye in the box seemed to throb louder with every passing second, as if it were rejoicing.
Just before panic and suffering consumed his mind, everything went black.
The next morning, a reddish ray of light filtered through the cracks in the hut. It was not sunlight, but rather the light of distant lanterns flickering oppressively.
Sōgiya opened his eyes with difficulty; his head felt heavy and his mind was foggy. His body felt broken, as if he had fallen. His clothes were stuck to him with warm dampness.
"Sōgiya! Sōgiya, wake up, you dumbass demon!"
Fullfire's voice cracked with panic. The little boy blinked and slowly sat up. His hands brushed the floor, which was covered in a thin, dark, sticky puddle of dried blood. His own blood.
He yawned as if dazed, then mechanically rubbed his right eye, which still stung. When his gaze met Fullfire's, he realized something was wrong.
"What's wrong? Why are you shouting?"
The floating flame leapt back, its sparks crackling as if frightened.
"Wh... what have you done...?"
"What are you talking about?" Sōgiya asked in a hoarse voice, furrowing his eyebrows.
Struggling to his feet, he leaned toward the small, chipped mirror in the corner of the hut, his heart pounding. What he saw made his blood run cold.
His right eye was no longer his own. Its yellow pupil glowed with an unhealthy light, surrounded by an abysmal blackness that seemed to suck in the light. A living, terrifier eye: The Devil's Eye.
Sōgiya's breath caught in his throat. In an instant, memories of that night flooded back: the box, the eye staring at him, the unbearable pain, and the darkness.
"What the hell !?"