Ra-Gadol snatched the spider from its web.

In his room he sat, illuminated by only two candles. The demon prince’s own shadow danced along the wall, a dark figure with horns rising from its forehead. Between his fingers he held the eight-legged intruder, which squirmed and floundered in his grip. “How much did you really expect to catch in these obsidian tunnels? You took the time to build your web, so you must have thought you’d ensnare some poor, foolish creature.”

The demon prince reached out with his other hand and pinched one of the spider’s legs. “Little one, didn’t you know that there’s only suffering here?” In a slow motion, he tore the leg from the spider’s body and flicked it away. A pitiless smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “And if you can’t learn to delight in suffering, you’ll become quite miserable.”

He tore another leg from the spider’s body, then deposited the disfigured arthropod back on its web. “Don’t be sad, my friend. Now you’re perfectly disguised as an insect. Maybe you’ll catch your prey even easier now. And, if you really miss those legs, they’ll probably grow back soon enough.” Ra-Gadol rubbed the bridge of his own nose. “Few injuries are truly permanent.”

The demon prince stood from his chair and blew out both candles. “Feast well,” he bid his six-legged friend, before leaving his room and proceeding through the tunnels of black glass. Demons on either side moved out of his way and bowed their heads as he passed. His stride was quick, and his long coat brushed against his subordinates’ shins.

He came to an iron door, upon which was etched a series of images depicting the entire history of his father’s family. All the battles, both against angels and against rival demon clans. All the conquests of pitiful human villages, and every seizure of adonium mines. The prince took a deep breath and knocked on the door with the knuckle of his index finger.

Even muffled through the iron door, he heard a sultry woman’s voice say, “Come in.”

The door squeaked and screeched as it opened, a sound which brought back joyous memories to Ra-Gadol’s mind. Once inside, he beheld a demon woman sitting upon an onyx chair. Eyes like those of a stalking lioness stared back at him. Silky, shimmering white hair fell over the woman’s lustrous, ivory flesh. From her temples came horns like those of a ram, and her lips were blood red.

As Ra-Gadol closed the door behind him, this most desirable of all demon women crossed her shapely legs and leaned back in her chair. The black fabric of her dress parted up her pale, strong thighs. It took every ounce of willpower within Ra-Gadol to avert his stare from her soft curves.

“My son,” she said, her voice just as sultry as before. “Come, have a seat.” she gestured to the large bed beside her chair.

His mother; Queen Jahi. As a succubus, she had a certain appeal about her, a charm not even he was immune to.

Ra-Gadol’s palms sweated and his fingers shook. “If it pleases you, I will stand.”

Jahi flicked her white hair over her exposed shoulder. “Suit yourself.”

Ra-Gadol stared at the ground, knowing that it was one of the few places he could look without twisted urges creeping into his thoughts. The goddess of darkness had told her children long ago, “Do as you will,” but even the most depraved of demons frowned upon incest.

“Has my father come to visit you this time?” Ra-Gadol asked, his eyes focused on the cracks both in and between the tiles.

Jahi giggled. “What a silly question! You know he prefers his human whore over me, just as he favors Nadia over you.”

Ra-Gadol grunted and clenched his fists. “He owes you at least enough respect to come and see you before he goes up to the spire… You are his queen, not Simone.”

For just a moment, Ra-Gadol’s eyes braved the journey up Jahi’s enticing body to her face. Her cat-like eyes portrayed deep malice, and all sensuousness left her voice. “I agree, Malkira owes me more than this. But what can we do about it?”

“I…” Ra-Gadol gritted his teeth. “I don’t know…”

Jahi stood from her chair and walked over to her bedside table. Ra-Gadol stared at the ceiling rather than become entranced by the inviting way her hips swayed side to side as she walked. The queen produced from one of the drawers a purple medallion on a copper chain and slipped it around her neck. The gem rested against her chest, and when she raised her hand to the door it glowed brightly for only a moment.

“We may speak freely now.” Jahi crept nearer to her son. Every second step exposed her long, pale left leg, up to where her thigh met her hip. From what Ra-Gadol could tell, it was unlikely she wore anything under that dress. The prince’s face burned as if it had caught fire. “What other irresponsible things has your father done lately?”

Ra-Gadol closed his eyes, but this only reminded him that his mother’s appearance wasn’t the only thing desirable about her. That intoxicating scent of pheromones filled his nostrils, and even the mere sound of her breath drove him into a lustful frenzy.

Focus! He silently screamed at himself. Focus on your hatred for Father!

“The great Demon King Malkira,” Ra-Gadol began, in a mocking tone, “is obsessed with Moloch’s prophecy. We have an angel establishing his kingdom not far from our borders. This angel slew Lord Raum, one of my father’s best generals. And what has my father done about it?” Ra-Gadol turned his back on his mother and pounded his fist on the wall. “He’s turned to pursuing legends! Some old myth about a ‘Shrieking Shrine,’ and stories from mortals in their twilight years…”

“That’s terrible!” came his mother’s sympathetic voice. “Lord Raum was one of your tutors, wasn’t he?”

“The one who taught me blood magic, yes.” Fond memories flooded Ra-Gadol’s mind and threatened to spill through his eyelids as tears. “It gets worse… when Father and I returned, one of his lieutenants told us of a slave uprising in one of the adonium mines. A golem calling himself Emet has dared to rise against us!”

“What did your father do when he heard this?” Jahi’s hand snaked its way onto Ra-Gadol’s shoulder, and his heart tried to flee his ribs.

“He…” Ra-Gadol’s body trembled. “He brushed the lieutenant aside and vaguely said, ‘deal with it, I have more important matters to attend to.’” The prince pounded his fist on the wall again. “More important matters… a slave, one created by human hands, dares to defy him… defy us all, and he’d rather chase myths?”

Jahi ran her fingernail up and down along her son’s spine, which caused him to shiver. “Your father’s always been in love with stories. He loves stories more than he loves his kingdom, me, you, Simone, or even Nadia. That much I knew when I met him.”

Ra-Gadol grunted in disgust.

Jahi’s fingernail crept up to the nape of Ra-Gadol’s neck and traced along his collar. “He used to tell me that it was because of what he learned from those stories, the wisdom they contained. In those early days, he was a good king.” Her hand caressed his throat, then slipped up to his cheek and gently forced him to turn and face her.

When Ra-Gadol turned, he felt the heat from his mother’s body pressed up against his, and his stomach turned at the thoughts which filled his mind. Jahi stared up into her son’s eyes, with a hand on either of his cheeks. Though her touch was gentle, her razor-sharp nails made him incapable of escape without pain and blood. She tilted his head forward and puckered her lips. Ra-Gadol’s heart pounded. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the inevitable taboo, and the plunge into the abyss which would follow.

But the prince felt her soft lips upon his forehead, which left him both unsatisfied and relieved.

He opened his eyes again and gazed into hers as she whispered, “Your time is now. Be the king your father has failed to be.”