A smooth voice spoke in the infinite blackness.

“If only you had as much compassion as you have courage.”

What stranger dared to criticize him? Ra-Gadol tried to lift his arms to seize the speaker’s throat, but he found he could not move. “Only fools speak to me that way!” he snarled.

“Your father says far worse,” responded the voice. Something about it sounded oddly familiar.

“Exactly. Only fools.” In that darkness, unable to move, it was hard to tell, but Ra-Gadol was fairly certain he was lying down. On his back and paralyzed as he was, he was vulnerable to this stranger. He bared his teeth to seem more frightening, in case this stranger could see in the dark. “You will show me the respect I deserve!”

“Did I insult you?” asked the voice.

“Yes!” Ra-Gadol growled. “And it will be the last time you do, if you value your life!”

“I said you lack compassion, but also called you courageous. If you consider that an insult, you should contemplate why.”

“Maybe you should contemplate why you’re so foolish as to persist in this argument!”

Deep silence followed Ra-Gadol’s retort. Not even his own heartbeat resounded in the void.

Then some invisible force snapped Ra-Gadol’s body upright, though his arms were still locked at his sides.

A golden disk appeared in the darkness, and Ra-Gadol averted his eyes from the bright, piercing glow. Silver, red, and green discs appeared to accompany it, and together they illuminated a hooded figure in a dark blue and bright red hooded robe. The figure leaned its head forward, so the shadow from the hood concealed its face. From the sleeves extended four arms. Two arms bent at the elbows, and the fingers touched together in front of the figure’s chest. Two more arms extended out from the same billowing sleeves and held the glowing disks.

Eyes peered at Ra-Gadol from the shadows within the figure’s open robe. He sneered at their accusing gaze, and fantasized about plucking each of them out one by one.

Something large cut through the air behind the figure, and when Ra-Gadol focused his eyes, he saw an adonium pendulum swinging back and forth. In the pendulum’s sheen, he saw his own face, and the lines of blood from his forehead, eyes, nose, and mouth.

The hooded figure spoke again. “I am called Providence, and I have come to give you either a blessing or a curse, depending on how you prove yourself in this moment.”

Ra-Gadol flinched and fought against the invisible force which held him still. “What manner of monster are you? You are no demon, no angel… are you a chimera created through alchemy? A wretch made from the parts of many corpses, sewn together and brought to life through magic?”

“We have already met, young prince,” said Providence, “but I looked much different back then.”

“So, you’re some manner of undead?” Ra-Gadol asked.

“What I am is less important than what you might choose to be,” said Providence. “You are the future of your clan, Ra-Gadol. I would offer you security in your throne and power to defeat your enemies, but first I must know that you will not abuse it.” All of the eyes within Providence’s robe blinked in unison. Ra-Gadol felt a chill creep up his spine like a spider. “I want someone to show the world that not all demons are as wicked as the gods claim them to be, but as you are now you are far from the hero I need.”

“You want a demon prince… to be a do-gooder?” Ra-Gadol raised a skeptical eyebrow. “To be clear, you’re offering me power and in exchange I have to go around being nice to people?”

“Not nice. Righteous,” came Providence’s reply.

Ra-Gadol struggled again against the force which held him back. “No one gives me power, Providence. I take what I want. I seize what is mine. I bow to no one.”

Providence’s voice turned sad when he said, “I can see that. Would you like to know the future that awaits you if you continue as you are now?”

“Oh, now you’re a seer too?” Ra-Gadol snapped.

The darkness around them melted away, and Ra-Gadol looked on at a mountain path surrounded by obsidian shards. The path crackled under the boots of two demons. The taller of the two resembled a lion who walked upright like a man, the other a short, stocky woman with a boar’s head. Between them they carried a burlap sack which appeared to have a body inside.

“Sweet Sygin!” said the lion. “I feared this day would never come.”

Ra-Gadol rolled his eyes.

“Why?” responded the boar. “Everyone wanted him dead. He was the worst—”

“Pathetic!” Ra-Gadol spat. “You really think showing me some fever dream in which everyone hated me and is so glad I’m dead is going to change my mind?”

“Agreed,” said the lion, “but the worst ones tend to stick around far too long.”

The boar demon grunted and shifted the body up higher on her shoulder. “Any word yet on who his successor will be?”

“Waste of time!” Ra-Gadol barked. “I will not be manipulated!”

The leon shrugged. “At this point, they’d even accept Nadia as queen.”

The boar demon chuckled. “How low have we sunk that even a half-breed would be a better choice than this shit was?”

Ra-Gadol tried to fold his arms and look away, but his paralysis prevented him from doing so.

“Here’s a good spot,” said the leon.

The two demons stopped at a cliff with a gaping chasm at the base. From where they were the bottom was shrouded in shadows. They both counted aloud to three, then hurled the burlap-wrapped body over the edge.

Gravity hooked Ra-Gadol behind his navel and yanked him down into the chasm with the body. He screamed as he tumbled down into the darkness below, falling for what seemed like an eternity, until a sudden stop jolted his bones.

All was black again, until Providence’s golden disc drifted down into the chasm and illuminated it. Jagged shards of black glass surrounded Ra-Gadol, and he found himself staring down at his own lifeless face, looking only a decade older, and the broken body tangled in burlap.

Something in the demon prince’s gut threatened to force its way up and hurl itself onto the ground, but Ra-Gadol restrained it and averted his eyes from his own dead face. “I assume you’re showing me this because you wish to offer me a chance to change this future?”

Providence appeared next to Ra-Gadol, his feet hovering above the serrated ground. “Yes. Now that you know this is the fate that awaits you if you continue in your wicked ways, you will have a chance to change it all.”

Ra-Gadol chuckled. “All I have to do is serve you and I get to live, is that it?”

“I never said you have to serve me…”

“No, but I have to serve your ideas of righteousness!” Ra-Gadol fought against the force that held him still again. “Slavery or an early grave! Those are the options you’re offering me. The way I live now might earn me a place as worm’s meat, hated by my people, but it is still my way, my choices. I may end up here, dead at the bottom of an abyss, remembered as the worst of all tyrants, but at least I will still be me.”

“Dear prince,” said Providence, “please listen. I’m trying to help you…”

“I don’t want your help!” Ra-Gadol screamed. “Release me! Release me now!”

“He’s finally come to!” came a familiar voice.

Ra-Gadol blinked and found himself staring up at a black ceiling. His own reflection looked back down upon him, with bandages wrapped around his head and bare torso. His head and chest both throbbed. The demon prince forced himself to sit up, silently thanking Sygin that he was able to move again.

When he looked around the room, the medicine bottles on the walls, surgical equipment on the shelves, and open books filled with diagrams of various creatures’ anatomy told him he was in the infirmary of his father’s palace.

Across the room stood his father, Malkira. The bags under his eyes were worse than ever, and his corneias were red with exposed veins.

Beside Malkira sat Ra-Gadol’s mother, who wore a white robe tied around her waist with a scarlet, cloth belt. She rose to her feet and smiled down at her son.

But Malkira was the first to approach Ra-Gadol’s bedside. “Thank Sygin…” he said and rested his hand on Ra-Gadol’s forehead. “I was worried… you’d suffered so much internal bleeding, I feared even my magic wouldn’t bring you back.”

Queen Jahi dropped to her knees beside the demon prince’s bedside. She clasped his fingers in her own, warm, soft hands. Ra-Gadol felt his face burn with blush. “My son! You’re alive!” She looked up at Malkira with a genuine grin on her lips. “Thank you so much!”

Malkira did not look down at her. “He’s my son too, Jahi. No need to thank me.”

Ra-Gadol looked back and forth between the two of them, noting the tears of joy in their eyes. “What happened?”

“You did something both brave and reckless,” Malkira replied, his jaw jutting forward with pride. “It nearly got you killed too. You used so much blood magic you fell unconscious in a room full of rebel slaves. Thankfully, I’d sent soldiers to capture the rebels and punish them, and they arrived shortly after you fell and managed to save you.”

Queen Jahi nodded. “When they brought you in your body was already cold, but you were still breathing, so your father used his magic to heal you. You’ve been out a couple days now.”

“Word spread,” said Malkira, “of your courage. Now everyone in the clan speaks highly of you. They’re calling you our best warrior. I think the title is… ‘Prince of Strife.’”

Prince of Strife…

Ra-Gadol repeated the title in his head a few times, and a proud smile formed on his lips. Yes, he could get used to people calling him this. His enemies would tremble when they heard it, and his subjects would treat him with reverence and respect.

Malkira licked his dry and cracked lips, then continued, “And… I’ve decided, I want to give you more authority than you’ve had.” Ra-Gadol’s eyes met Malkira’s with silent questions. “You obviously stepped in to deal with the slaves because, as far as you knew, I’d chosen to ignore the rebellion in that mine. If you’d had charge over your own battalion, you wouldn’t have had to go in alone.”

Ra-Gadol’s smile widened, revealing his white fangs. “You’re going to give me my own battalion?”

Malkira patted him on the shoulder. “And why not? You’re obviously a capable warrior who doesn’t know fear. You’ve shown that you care about this clan and its future, so it only makes sense to put you in charge of more. I only ask one thing in return.”

Ra-Gadol’s smile faltered. “Oh?”

Malkira nodded. “You must swear an oath that you and I shall be allies until the day the throne passes to you. I do not mean to accuse you, but I know that it would make our people feel far more secure to know their prince and king are of one accord, and the clan will not be plunged into civil war.” Ra-Gadol’s smile faded the rest of the way. “I have my own projects I’m pursuing, and with control of your own battalion you may pursue your own projects as well. So long as you swear publicly that you and I are of one purpose.”

Ra-Gadol glanced over to his mother, whose smile had not left her face.

“No,” said Ra-Gadol.

The grin fled Malkira’s face, leaving confusion in its wake. “No?”

Ra-Gadol shook his head. “I will swear no oath. Not to you, not to anyone. I will make my own choices, I will be me, and my will shall not be bound by oath to anyone! I already rejected Providence’s offer, what makes you think I’d accept yours?”

Malkira shook his head. “What? What the Hell are you talking about?”

Ra-Gadol stood from the infirmary bed. When the blankets fell away, he realized that he’d been naked underneath, but he was unashamed. “I am no one’s puppet, father. Not yours, not anyone’s! I do what I want. I take what I want. I am me!”

Malkira stepped back from him. “You’re not making any sense, boy. I’m not asking you to change, just to make a promise.”

Ra-Gadol tried to spit, but found his mouth was too dry. “A promise to do whatever you want for the rest of my days. I will not be a slave, Father!”

“For the love of…” Malkira sighed and shook his head. “Don’t be an idiot! I’m not asking you to be a slave.”

“No one ever asks you to become a slave.”

“I’m not telling you to become one either!”

“You are!” Ra-Gadol shrieked and pointed an accusing finger. “You want me to just… pretend I agree with everything you do! You insult my mother every time you visit your filthy human whore!” Spittle flew from the demon prince’s mouth as he shouted at his father. “You chase after stupid fairy tales and ghost stories! You ignore the rising threats in your kingdom! You—”

Malkira shouted, “That’s enough!” and waved his hand. Ra-Gadol’s feet left the ground, and he slammed into the nearest wall. “No more! You take issue with my actions? Fine! You can keep your pride, but I’m not giving you any soldiers, do you understand? I thought this could be the start of a better future for us and for our clan, but it seems you have many more lessons to learn before that future can be ours.”

“Release him!” Queen Jahi drew a dagger from her sleeve and held it to Malkira’s throat. “Now!”

The Demon King raised both of his hands and Ra-Gadol slid down the wall onto the floor again. Once Ra-Gadol’s feet touched the ground, Jahi sheathed her blade again. Malkira glared at her, then at his son. “You will both leave this palace. I want you out of my home tonight!”

Jahi reached into her sleeve again, but Malkira waved his hand at both her and Ra-Gadol and they both fell to the ground as if forced there by an invisible hand.

Malkira strode to the infirmary door and turned back to speak over his shoulder. “If you’re still here by tomorrow morning, I’ll have you both killed.”