accept him as their one true liege. Many had died fighting his claim of supremacy, but after Satan had slain the planet’s divine protectors—the Nephilim—they had at last accepted him for what he was.
Their king . . . their lord and master . . .
Their god.
Satan advanced toward the great cathedral’s entrance, the gathering of monstrosities parting to create a path for him. He remained alert for signs of danger, for while they all had sworn their loyalty to him, the honor of such creatures was not to betrusted.
“All hail the Darkstar!” a beast proclaimed, raising a blood-encrusted sword above its malformed head as Satan approached.
“Hail!” the crowd shrieked as one.
The closer Satan got to the massive doors, the louder the beasts roared their allegiance, stamping their feet, tentacles, and cloven hooves upon the hard ground. He should have felt energized by their veneration, but instead he felt empty. It was as if he barely heard their cries of adulation, distracted by what was still denied to him. He would not be satisfied until Heaven, and the loathsome God enthroned within it, fell to his legions.
The cathedral opened to grant him access; then the stone doors slammed closed behind him, cutting off the cheers of the beasts outside. Satan stood in the shadowy silence.
“Do I sense troubles?” asked a creeping voice from somewhere within the vast chamber.
“Troubles? Who is troubled?” asked another voice.
“Certainly not the one who is now called king. What trouble could there be for one who rules us all?” questioned a third.
The Sisters of Umbra gradually shambled from a patch of impenetrable darkness, their robed and hooded forms swaying before him.
Satan strode into the sanctuary.
“You read my mood as if it were your own,” the Dark-star said.
“How can this be?” asked one of the Sisters.
“Has the jubilation of your achievements waned so quickly?” asked the second.
“Certainly, we are mistaken,” said the third.
Satan walked past the crones, moving deeper into the citadel, toward the throne that had been constructed from the bones of those who had denied his supremacy.
Furling his great wings of ebony, the Satan plopped his armored form down onto the skin-upholstered seat.
“You are not,” he said.
The Sisters moved as one, slowly turning and shuffling to stand before him.
“But what could be troubling you, great Lord of Shadows?”
“Could it be that some of your enemies—though routed—remain at large?”
“And perhaps still threaten your glory?”
Satan scowled at the thought. Yes, some who opposed him had managed to avoid his wrath, but he had demonstrated his omnipotence. Surely the Nephilim were holed up somewhere, terrified by what he had done to their world, and waiting for the inevitable.
Waiting to die.
But the Sister’s comment would not leave him. What if the Nephilim were not hiding, but planning another assaultagainst his rule?
“They are still out there,” he said. “And as long as they are alive . . .”
The middle Sister finished his thought. “How can you truly enjoy what you have achieved?”
“Knowing that they are out there, plotting against you,” added another Sister.
“Threatening to disrupt all that you have worked so hard to attain,” said the last of them. “It would be enough to drive one mad, we’d imagine.”
Satan knew that the Sisters were right—how could he possibly focus on conquering Heaven, knowing that he had enemies on earth who might thwart his plans?
“Scox!” Satan roared, his voice echoing through the vast stone structure. “Damn your eyes, where are you, servant?”
The red-fleshed creature, the last of an imp species wiped from existence by the angry Satan, ran breathlessly into the chamber.
“Forgive me, my Darkstar,” the imp said, head bowed, hands before him. “I wasn’t aware that you’d returned. I was watching the human military’s latest attempt to attack us.”
Satan
Their king . . . their lord and master . . .
Their god.
Satan advanced toward the great cathedral’s entrance, the gathering of monstrosities parting to create a path for him. He remained alert for signs of danger, for while they all had sworn their loyalty to him, the honor of such creatures was not to betrusted.
“All hail the Darkstar!” a beast proclaimed, raising a blood-encrusted sword above its malformed head as Satan approached.
“Hail!” the crowd shrieked as one.
The closer Satan got to the massive doors, the louder the beasts roared their allegiance, stamping their feet, tentacles, and cloven hooves upon the hard ground. He should have felt energized by their veneration, but instead he felt empty. It was as if he barely heard their cries of adulation, distracted by what was still denied to him. He would not be satisfied until Heaven, and the loathsome God enthroned within it, fell to his legions.
The cathedral opened to grant him access; then the stone doors slammed closed behind him, cutting off the cheers of the beasts outside. Satan stood in the shadowy silence.
“Do I sense troubles?” asked a creeping voice from somewhere within the vast chamber.
“Troubles? Who is troubled?” asked another voice.
“Certainly not the one who is now called king. What trouble could there be for one who rules us all?” questioned a third.
The Sisters of Umbra gradually shambled from a patch of impenetrable darkness, their robed and hooded forms swaying before him.
Satan strode into the sanctuary.
“You read my mood as if it were your own,” the Dark-star said.
“How can this be?” asked one of the Sisters.
“Has the jubilation of your achievements waned so quickly?” asked the second.
“Certainly, we are mistaken,” said the third.
Satan walked past the crones, moving deeper into the citadel, toward the throne that had been constructed from the bones of those who had denied his supremacy.
Furling his great wings of ebony, the Satan plopped his armored form down onto the skin-upholstered seat.
“You are not,” he said.
The Sisters moved as one, slowly turning and shuffling to stand before him.
“But what could be troubling you, great Lord of Shadows?”
“Could it be that some of your enemies—though routed—remain at large?”
“And perhaps still threaten your glory?”
Satan scowled at the thought. Yes, some who opposed him had managed to avoid his wrath, but he had demonstrated his omnipotence. Surely the Nephilim were holed up somewhere, terrified by what he had done to their world, and waiting for the inevitable.
Waiting to die.
But the Sister’s comment would not leave him. What if the Nephilim were not hiding, but planning another assaultagainst his rule?
“They are still out there,” he said. “And as long as they are alive . . .”
The middle Sister finished his thought. “How can you truly enjoy what you have achieved?”
“Knowing that they are out there, plotting against you,” added another Sister.
“Threatening to disrupt all that you have worked so hard to attain,” said the last of them. “It would be enough to drive one mad, we’d imagine.”
Satan knew that the Sisters were right—how could he possibly focus on conquering Heaven, knowing that he had enemies on earth who might thwart his plans?
“Scox!” Satan roared, his voice echoing through the vast stone structure. “Damn your eyes, where are you, servant?”
The red-fleshed creature, the last of an imp species wiped from existence by the angry Satan, ran breathlessly into the chamber.
“Forgive me, my Darkstar,” the imp said, head bowed, hands before him. “I wasn’t aware that you’d returned. I was watching the human military’s latest attempt to attack us.”
Satan
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