He tried to slow his breathing,

looking over to the room that he needed to protect at all costs.

The doorknob stopped trembling and the orange streaks of an oil-burning lantern stopped

swinging. He continuously tightened and loosened his grip on the axe as if holding the life of an

undeserving rat. Everything was quiet, as if the night was holding its breath in anticipation. The

only thing Clave could hear was the blood coursing through his chest as it expanded and

contracted rapidly. But even this slowed as he relaxed slightly and lowered his axe, untensing his

shoulders, and letting out a sigh of relief. They’re gone.

A face plastered itself against the shutter, staring through the knothole with bloodshot

eyes that stopped Clave in his retreat. He glanced back at the bedroom once more and furrowed

his brow. The face dislodged from the shutter and broke down the door in a fit of rage. Smoke

and dust flew up when the hinges gave way and the door thudded to the ground.

“Clave!” the intruder groggily shouted.

“Leave this place! Get out!” Clave raised his axe, poised to attack.

The intruder swung his lantern around, scattering tongues of flickering red and orange

light around.

“Clave, I promotion that deserve!” the intruder shakily called out, wobbling on his knees

and talking out of alternating sides of his mouth.

Clave lowered the axe. He knew who this was and why he was here.

“Cardo, go home, you’re drunk,” Clave tried to explain, stepping towards Cardo.

But Cardo just waved his lantern around recklessly, swinging the tiny flame around like a

baby shaking a rattle. “No, Clave! This fault is your fault! Not my fault! My fault is the best…

fault.” Cardo swayed back and forth, trying to look Clave in the eye.

“Do you know what that promotion meant to me?” he continued. “Trina left me and took

the kids today when she found out I didn’t get the position, saying I was a deadless worthbeat

that would never amount to anything-” he turned around, “in life. Trina! Come back, baby, come

back!” He struggled to keep his balance, ambling like a newborn fawn.

He spun back around, shaking the lantern in Clave’s face, “but this is your fault! You

know how hard I work! I’m a damn one man lumbermill. And I come in every day every day

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every eaaarly in the morning but NO!” he slammed the lantern on the ground and the little fire

burst forth like a raging dragon that had awoken from a deep slumber. The fire spread as if it had

a mind of its own, licking up the dry wooden floor and leaping to the parched oaken walls until

finally it crawled towards the bedroom door.

Have they climbed out the window yet? Clave dashed for the door before the hungry fire

was able to consume it, but Cardo dashed out and tackled him to the ground, causing Clave to

lose his grip on the axe.

“No, no, no, Clave! You will watch your family leave you, just like I had to! Or rather,

watch their souls leave—let’s just say I made sure that wooden shutter won’t open. ” and he let

out a small chuckle before choking on the smoke.

Clave punched Cardo square in the face, but Cardo didn’t flinch. Clave relentlessly struck

Cardo with all his might, trying to damage him in someway. Cardo held Clave up by the neck

and whipped him across the room, skipping him like a stone before he finally crashed into the

wall, tearing open his flesh along the way. Clave coughed up blood as he struggled to get back

up. He could feel that his left shoulder was dislocated and that his wrist was broken. I can’t let

down my family like Cardo did his. He reached into his pocket to grasp the key and slid it across

the floor, relieved it made it under the door. Sprinting over to his fallen axe, he picked it up with

his remaining good hand and in a fit of rage swung the axe into Cardo’s side like he was felling a

mighty oak. As such, Cardo fell like one as blood spurted out from his side and he roared out in

pain.

Clave fell back down to the corner of the walls and floor, still managing to sit upright as

the pain and blood loss joined forces with the heat of the fire and the choking smoke to take him

down. His eyes stung, not only from the noxious fumes of the suffocating smoke, but with the

unbearable sense of failure he felt that he could not save his family as well. He smiled, however,

as his strength gave out and he fell to his side. His eyes, overburdened, began to close but not

before he heard the door unlock and witnessed his wife and son dashing through the door. His

consciousness left him with a smile on his face and tears in his eyes, nearing the edge of death as

a proud husband and father. Memories of his family flooded to him as his heart grew fainter with

every passing moment. Cardo’s insatiable wrath refused to loosen its grip on him and with his

fleeting consciousness, he grabbed Porta as she attempted to dart away, tripping her.

“Egor, run!” she shouted as loud as she could with her smoke riddled lungs, but Egor

stood there in terror as he watched the giant that had survived a blow to the side by his father

hold up his mother by the foot.

She screamed out once more for Egor to run away, but the child’s legs were still

paralyzed in fear as he heard the loud crack of her spine snapping against Cardo’s knee. A smile

drew across Cardo’s face. He discarded the corpse and limped towards the young Egor, reaching

out to end the last member of Clave’s family to complete his drunken revenge. Moments later, he

flew out the open doorway as Clave made one final stand, tackling him and using every last

ounce of life and strength left in his body to save his son one last time.

Egor, amazed his father was still alive and strong enough to take down the muscular

giant, ran outside, frantically shouting out to his father. But Clave only held up his hand as the

moonlight shone down and illuminated his charred flesh and crimson streams that flowed from

every part of his skin. He ran his broken hand through his son’s hair one last time before holding

him close to his quiet heart until it was completely silent. Egor bent over and examined his

father’s blighted form. He flicked his attention to his mother’s expired body and simply peered at

Belphegor 7

the two dead bodies before him. No tears or shaking in fear, his attention had been transfixed on

their immobile corpses.

Cardo shakily stood up and wiped the blood from his mouth. “Ha! The bastard’s dead! I

did it, my revenge is-” he stopped himself, perceiving the youth in new light as the incinerating

tongues of his revenge preyed upon the home. He noted the boy’s eye and hair color, dark like

coal and unfeeling. “It all makes sense now; Clave never had a son...you’re...you’re a Corpuson?

A bloody human? Why are you here? Why...what is this? A demon!”

He staggered back, his entire body shook, and his eyes opened wide. Before him stood a

child that peered into his eyes, his very soul, with such dark eyes of his own that words like

“black” and “shadow” were meaningless. The look upon the child’s face was that of a dragon

before a lamb, a butcher before a slab of meat, a hunter before a deer. Cardo again staggered

back, not out of drunkenness, but out of sobering fear. This child has just lost his parents and

house in a matter of minutes, but stares me down with such a fierce look of terror. . .is he a

demon?

Egor took a step forward toward the terrified man as the moon cast an elongated umbrage

of the child. The caliginous copy whispered to the boy. Yes, show him; show him the pain you

feel, the life you’ve lost...show him...your nightmare!

“No, this is not pain. This is simply...the end. May you awaken in the next life.”

The shadow appeared to him in his mind, stretching out his hand to the boy. Egor raised

up his right hand. His shadow rotated around to his front and morphed into a rectangular shape.

It ascended from the road and grew taller than the child, taller than even the drunken giant that

fell on his back and tried to scurry away. But he couldn’t look away as he was so transfixed upon

the dark obelisk of two dimensional terror manifested by the child’s own shadow as it etched

closer and closer to him. He cried out in desperation, in terror, pleading for someone to come

help, but no one came for no one cares for the life of a rat. The fire raged on next to the child as

if he was a demon from hell and hell wanted him back, but not before it took Cardo with him for

making the child this way. Malevolence and putrid hatred flowed forth from the child, fueling

the grim rectangular death gate and gifting unto it a malicious aura.

Egor clenched his fist, and the shadow box opened, like a door, slowly creaking as a pit

of seemingly endless darkness swirled around inside the shadow door. Then, like a black

whirpool of mist, the darkness reached out and grabbed Cardo, dragging him inside as his skin

grew pale as bone, and his hair turned and even lighter shade of white. The door vanished and

dissipated into the night. Cardo fell to the ground, too weak to move, almost too weak to breathe.

Egor swayed back and forth as he came out of his daze and fell to his knees when he saw what

had happened. He buried his aged face in his now withered hands and wept.

. . . . . . .

Egor shivered at the recollection of his past. He questioned how long it had been since

then as he stared into the flame. The short candle continued to flicker, causing his shadow to

dance between the walls of the staircase.

“The door…” it beckoned. “The door leads to the world you seek, remember? The world

you desire, the world your parents are, the world without troubles; your dream world, a land

where you can do...nothing. Just watch. Forever.”

Egor rolled over on his side. He brought his arms to his chest for he was cold and felt

every rib poke into his bony arms as he did so. He no longer had the strength to move, but no

longer had the strength to fight off the shadow either, and so he sat up and grabbed the knife.

Belphegor 8

He continued to chip away until he finally accomplished burrowing through. A wave of

anticipation flooded Egor’s fragile mind upon his climactic achievement. He gazed through the

small hole in the door, the symbol of his accomplishment was a mere portal through wood, a

door in a door, and yet to him it meant his entire life and being. It seemed as though his shadow

peered over his shoulder to obtain just a glimpse of the promised land, the heavenly realm of joys

he had promised the boy but his smile faded as all he could see was darkness, empty darkness.

The shadow had deceived himself and so disgusted with its own lie, its whispers stopped. But

Egor’s prying never ceased. Could this truly be all there was for him to find? Was his desired

world, the world he killed for, nothing but a blissful whisper of unsightly falsehoods and

pipedreams? No, of course not...right? The door continued to stand guard against the child’s

entering into the forbidden empty room, but had he a heart it would have bleed for the child. He

struck the door again and a moaning from the wood ebbed out, as if crying with sympathetic

tears for the boy.

So caught up in his own sadness and wasted efforts, Egor did not notice the man that had

walked down the steps and now stood behind him.

“Hello there, young one,” the man greeted in a charming voice. Egor, taken aback, turned

around and looked up at the man. Difficult to discern from the limited light of the candle, Egor

could only tell that the man had dark hair, though unsure of what color it was. His face was aged

and stern but the faint wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled revealed a gentle soul beneath.

Gold rings adorned his fingers, and a long cloak covered his body. He wore leather boots with a

matching leather belt that held up a scabbard and sword on the man’s side. Atop the man’s head,

a humble crown with six points protruding from a simple gold band signified to Egor who this

man was.

Egor, immediately falling to one knee and bowing his head, addressed him. “My king, I

am so honored that you would grace me with your presence. However, if I may be so bold, what

purpose has brought you to me?” Egor coughed a few times, but still tried to remain respectful.

The king smiled, and bent over to look Egor in the eyes. “My young friend, I have come

for you. May I ask though, what it is that you are trying to accomplish here?”

Egor looked back at the door. “I was told...if I could just get beyond this door...I would

be able to see my parents again and obtain what I have lost. The shadow...the shadow...he always

lurks, always. I can never escape him, what he made me do…I’ve always wanted to just watch.

Watch the birds fly, the clouds roll across the sky. Is there any reason to do anything else? Are

not all actions fleeting, all attempts pointless? I want a world where there is nothing. No tasks to

accomplish or deeds to be done. No loved ones to lose and weep over. Is that nothing but a

dream?”

“Hmm. I see. That’s quite the problem. I’m afraid that your shadow has lied to you.

Unfortunately, your parents are gone forever it seems and your scrawny form tells me you have

seem many hardships since then. But as far as this act your “shadow” has told you to do. . .” the

king reached out to Egor’s hand that held the knife and gently took it out of his hand. “If you

truly want a chance to find such a place,” he turned the knife around, with the blade pointing

towards Egor, and placed it in his blistered and dirt covered hand. “Then you should stab into

this door.”

Egor trembled as he looked down at the knife, now pointed towards his heart. Death? Is it

only through dying that I can finally achieve an end to this nightmare? Is this what I truly want?

He looked up, into the eyes of the king, and his eyes welled up with tears.

Belphegor 9