"My condolences," he said. Huh — yet why were his eyes full of joy?
The two soldiers behind him were holding the black bags on the ground with utter disgust.
The one on the left was… smirking.
And the one on the right was hiding his mouth with his spare hand, as if, if he didn't, he would burst into laughter.
Sweat started to form on my cheeks, forming an awkward smile.
It felt… like a joke.
"For what, soldiers?
You guys are now the ones responsible for trash day?"
The one on the left stepped closer, throwing the black bag over to me.
"Why don't you find out, kid?"
The black bag felt solid yet delicate.
Like something I used to cuddle and cry on.
I tried to open the zipper yet my trembling hands weren't much help.
As I unzipped it, it began to become clear what this was — a joke.
You might ask, "why?"
Because I found my father's head blown off with a single bullet.
They didn't bother to even close his eyes, as if peace and closure weren't an option.
I glanced accidentally at the three soldiers and they were all… giggling.
It made me think — who is the jester among us?
Suddenly voices began to swarm in my head.
A man who doesn't defend his home is no man at all.
My smile began to widen, forcing my mouth open as I closed his lifeless eyes.
A voice slipped out of it.
A chuckle.
The soldiers' eyes narrowed at me.
Then laughter. Light, doubtful laughter.
"The hell is wrong with him?" the soldier on the left muttered.
I ignored him and placed my father's corpse gently on the ground.
Then I brushed my hand against the right soldier — the one holding the second bag — with the tips of my fingers.
"Give me my mother."
His eyes twisted in confusion and pleasure as he handed me the bag.
I opened the zipper, just enough like before, to see her face.
And as I expected, it was my mother's corpse.
Yet something wasn't right.
The smell of her body wasn't the smell of a corpse that died on the battlefield.
A familiar smell…
"It can't b—"
"Hahaha…"
The doubt faded instantly as I saw them laugh with satisfaction.
I… I opened the bag completely in a rush.
Her body was… distorted.
Her hands broken, her body full of wounds.
"Sammael! You shouldn't just hate those who hate us, you should prove them wrong instead."
She used to say those words to me whenever I lost faith in something as simple as equality.
My eyes squeezed themselves, trying to muster tears.
Little did they know that this privilege wasn't granted to us.
And that made my laughter grow louder.
My hands dropped her body onto the ground roughly.
"Hey! Sergeant, seriously, what's the deal with this kid?"
"Don't you see it, you idiot?
His father that you shot was a jester!"
"I totally missed that part…"
Then they laughed along with me.
I walked slowly towards the soldiers and offered my hand to the one in the center.
His eyes narrowed.
After a couple of seconds he shook my hand.
"May I ask you something, soldier?" I said with a smile.
"Sure, go ahead."
"Your name." Then I pointed at the two behind him,
"And theirs, if possible."
The one on the right whispered,
"This half-gypsy wants to curse us?"
"I don't mind. Tell him, Sergeant."
The Sergeant's hand tightened around my palm as he said,
"My name is Leonel. Those two are Nelson and Gerald."
Then he let go of my hand and the three of them spat on the ground.
Yet the Sergeant muttered before leaving,
"I'd advise you to burn her body…"
Nelson and Gerald laughed and walked away along with him.
The second they were out of sight —
my legs gave out.
"They didn't even close the door…"
Outside, kids were playing and running around their parents, waving to the three "respectable" soldiers. The ones who keep them safe.
I gritted my teeth and punched the floor.
"Why?"
"What should I do now?"
Get revenge? But how?
Forget about it all and die like my parents?
"ANSWER ME!"
I didn't really know who it was that I was talking to.
There was no one.
Maybe I was begging for some god's help.
But how can I ask a god for help when he is the one who caused all this suffering?
Damn you, seven gods…
Silence lingered for far too long in my empty and dark house, where there was only the light of the left open door.
A sound broke the silence.
I lifted my head off the ground and looked around.
It was a broken photograph, although I couldn't tell who was in it.
But what's the point? All of them are dead now, aren't they?
Yet despite that, I dragged myself along the ground towards the photograph.
I lifted it and brushed off the broken glass.
It was my grandfather's photograph.
He was a great man.
A man who put his own family first and himself last.
I actually loved him more than my father. Not because my father was mean or abusive to me.
He never hit me.
Yet my grandfather had this smile that smoothed my heart and put my mind at ease.
I chuckled, staring at the broken photograph, remembering the fun things we used to do together.
"What am I supposed to do, gramps?
I'm not powerful enough to avenge their deaths.
I'm not intelligent enough to let go of everything and end it all for good.
I'm only a helpless clown… one who only laughs at himself."
I clicked my tongue.
"I'm as broken as this photograph."
I shifted my gaze to the open garbage bags — the bags where my precious family now sleep 'peacefully.'
"Will you guys… forgive me?"
Their bodies didn't respond and neither did the broken photograph.
But something else did.
A voice whispering within my head.
"If you wish to meet him, you must sink within yourself."
I didn't know whose voice it was or who he meant by "him."
Maybe I'm finally losing my mind.
They say that all jesters are doomed to madness.
Well, I'm only half one.
Yet I suddenly found a black, dirty dagger resting in the palm of my hand.
My left hand, the one holding the dagger, kept dragging itself towards my right wrist.
I smiled,
"You must sink within yourself, you say?"
I slashed my wrist harshly.
Then my hand forced itself onto my mouth.
The blood from my wrist dripping down my throat felt… disgusting and weird, yet somehow it felt right, as if I had done this before.
Minutes passed and my eyes began to close bit by bit, my mouth overflowing with blood that dripped down my cheeks.
What's funny about all of this is that I don't feel pain — but, as funny as it may be, I'm glad that none of them felt anything as they met their end.
Yet I always wonder what pain may feel like. I even asked Kayle once.
"It feels horrible! The other day my mother slipped off our house's ladder and broke her back.
She kept screaming and crying in pain for days!"
Turning a blind eye to the fact that Kayle's family has a ladder in their house —
But how could an individual who hasn't experienced pain and sorrow distinguish it from pleasure and happiness?
And can't my mind die faster?
I want a moment of pea—
My eyes closed.
The hell is this place?
There was nothing but frost and snow.
Despite that I can't feel pain or cold,
it wrapped around my body — no, my soul to be exact.
It felt weird. It's my first time experiencing such a thing. It just seemed similar to what Kayle once described as cold.
No, there is something else.
Ahead of where I stood sat a huge cage of white.
"Am I meeting a monster?"
I muttered and walked forward.
What I saw inside the white cage was… shocking to say the least.
A man with unimaginable beauty that looked almost angelic — if you ignore his red eyes — made me feel sucked in.
He was bound in seven red chains around his body.
On the man's neck there was a mark similar to a black star, the same one my grandfather used to have.
Although I couldn't see the mark fully to be certain, because his tall golden hair was blocking my sight — not to mention his presence…
It felt horrifying yet familiar, like I had belonged with him in that cage.
The man smiled,
"It has been too long since I last saw you,
Lucius." His voice was… like a song you don't want to stop.
I stood back a bit, took a couple of hesitant steps forward,
"I'm sorry, sir… I'm not Lucius."
His eyes narrowed a bit,
"Well you sure are not!
Lucius wouldn't be that polite…
So who are you exactly, boy?"
Who am I?
A good question.
I shouldn't sound pathetic in front of someone like this, that's for sure.
"I-I am his grandson, Sammael Morningstar."
The man smiled, stretching his muscles.
The chains around him didn't seem to bother him, yet to me it felt suffocating to look at.
"You both sure do look quite alike," he muttered.
I didn't really know what to say, so I stayed silent.
Silence stretched a bit. I finally mustered the courage to open my mouth to speak, yet before a word could slip —
"You are here to avenge your mother, Polly, and your father, Alex, by killing those soldiers."
My eyes widened.
He smirked,
"Aren't I right?"
"But how did you know that… sir?"
He pointed at his left eye,
"With this very eye, I could see everything and everyone… especially you, my children."
Your children? Who exactly is this man?!
The man suddenly burst into laughter.
The hell is wrong with him?
"You come here and risk your own life to meet me while you don't even know who I am?"
Wait, how did he know?
I didn't speak a word.
"I can read your mind, kid.
Besides, your face is pretty expressive."
I exhaled,
"So can you just tell me who you are?"
"You really are dense, kid." His tone turned a bit cold.
"I'm the creator of what you humans call gods."
"You are… Lucifer!?
You actually exist!"
His cold expression turned irritated.
"You thought I was some kind of myth!?
What do they teach you kids nowadays?"
"Well, can you really blame me?
Those seven gods you created are not really godly."
He let out a dry chuckle, his eyes looking straight at me yet feeling distant.
"Wait… if you are really Lucifer and you can watch over us, 'your children'…
Then why didn't you help any of them?
My grandfather, my parents — all of them are dead because of you!"
Lucifer exhaled, moving his chained hands.
"Don't you see the chains burying my soul?"
His voice bitter, almost furious.
"I'm as powerless as you, kid."
I kicked the cage,
"BUT IT'S YOUR FAULT!
Don't you understand? Because of you everyone that I love is dead and I remain all alone!"
Lucifer's eyes widened.
"We lived under subjugation, discrimination, treated like nothing more than animals — and guess whose fault it is? Y—"
"It's my fault," Lucifer said, interrupting my outburst.
His eyes avoided mine, looking at the red chains.
"I stood against the Almighty, my own father, creating abominations out of his favourite creation… his reflection…
And you, my children, paid the price along with me…"
He forced his eyes to meet mine,
"After all, I'm not any different from the one I stood against."
His words felt honest and sincere, yet they didn't make me feel any better. It felt like he had held them for too long and I just happened to be there, standing as a mere mirror of how pathetic we — his "children" — are.
"Pathetic," I muttered. Honestly, what irritated me wasn't his apology or what happened to them, but that I couldn't lie to him.
Lucifer chuckled,
"Yet don't you think blaming me for your own powerlessness is more pathetic, kid?"
My heart started to pound furiously.
"After all, I'm the one in chains here, not you, Sammael."
I… chuckled.
"And shouldn't you direct your anger towards the seven abominations instead of me?
Or the three soldiers who violated your mother?"
Suddenly my legs gave out on the white snow beneath me.
"Was I too harsh on him?"
"Hey kid, are you alri—"
I laughed hysterically. After all, that is all I can do — and he is right.
I looked at the ground.
"I'm sorry, slave of hel— I mean, king of hell… I-I… am really sorry.
But whenever I remember the faces of those three soldiers… my heart pounds with ang—"
I sensed a gentle hand touching my head.
I lifted my head and it was his.
"You know, I myself admire you jesters.
Somehow, even when you people are in pain, you still manage to laugh and smile.
It's more beautiful than any god I have witnessed."
I… blushed for some reason.
He moved his hand off my head and sat beside me against his cage.
He smiled,
"So… we have yelled at each other and apologised right after and all…
What is it that you want of me exactly?"
I tilted my head,
"What I want of you?
I can really ask something of you?"
Lucifer touched his head roughly, barely holding his laughter.
"Well, you are his grandson after all…"
What does that even mean?
He stood up, smiling as his red eyes burned with passion.
"Then how about you and I make a deal?"
What kind of deal? I asked.
"I will grant you my curse — power far beyond humanity's limits!"
I hesitated,
"This power of yours… will it be enough for me to kill those soldiers?"
He smirked,
"Oh kid, it will be enough to rival those false gods that rule over us."
My eyes flickered.
"Wait… what will you gain from this?"
Freedom, he said. His tone seemed more serious than ever, yet I had nothing to lose, so I stood up.
He passed his hand through the cage and I shook it instantly.
"So… what did you mean by freedom?"
"Oh… I forgot that you are as dense as your grandfather."
Why does he have to be that cynical, and what did my grandfather do to irritate the king of hell?
Well, it doesn't matter. He will probably just ask me something simple. I mean, I'm one of his children, aren't I?
"I just want you to kill the seven gods."
I choked.
He said it too… casually.
As if he had asked me to kill some rabbits.
"But I'm only one person, you old timer!
How the hell do you expect me to do such a thing!"
He chuckled.
"Don't be hasty.
You will know everything in time."
As I stood close to him behind that cage, the mark became clear as day.
A broken black star.
And his angelic, sinister presence became clearer too. Like I had a close look through his soul, yet I couldn't describe it properly.
Maybe a broken pride?
Maybe anger?
It's not like I had experienced any of those to be sure.
As my hand still shook his, the world began to crack and shatter gradually.
There were a couple of questions on my mind…
So I spoke.
"Hey, king of hell — will I ever see you again?
And will I get a cool mark like you and grandfather?
And why did you kill Adam?"
His eyes opened wide and he laughed loudly.
"How about when we meet again, I answer those?"
So we will meet again…
"Goodbye, Sammael.
Oh right — there is a present I left you that I'm quite sure you will love…."
I opened my eyes.
Breathing heavily.
"The hell was that!"
I looked at my wrist and it was completely healed.
I felt that my body had changed a bit too.
Yet there was a smile so familiar that it made my broken mind stop thinking for just a moment.
It was my parents' corpses.
I stood up and opened my father's bag, checking if his smokes and lighter had been taken or not.
And by some good luck, they hadn't.
I laughed lightly as I opened the lighter.
It had a weird symbol similar to that black star that Lucifer and grandfather had.
I remembered his words when I first touched his pack of cigarettes.
"Sammael! Don't you dare smoke again, you hear me!
It's bad for your health."
I took a cigarette and lit it.
"Sorry, father.
You promised that you'd be by my side, so think of it as payback!"
Then I threw the lighter into their bodies, and as it started to burn I walked through the open door.