The demon's hair was plastered with sweat, his breathing ragged and
labored. He had been bound to the chair for several days now and was
feeling exhaustion from his efforts at trying to break free. Blood from
several wounds flowed down the chair and onto the floor in a slick
Nothing the Impudite had done yielded any success. Whatever these cuffs were made out of, they were strong enough to withstand his strength. And he couldn't see the person who had kept him here so charming him was out of the question.
From behind, he could hear the door click open and lock shut. The Taker shuddered in terror. For three days, this person had caused him pain. He lived in fear of hearing that calm emotionless voice now and would do anything at all to not hear it again. But even pleading for the oblivion of Soul death was not helping him. The one who held him was immune to it.
"Good morning, Pithon." the man said. "I trust you are feeling better."
"Please," the Impudite moaned. "No more. I told you everything. I just want to-"
"Seek asylum in Heaven. Yes, yes, I heard this. In fact, you were telling me this within our first half hour together." This much was true. Pithon had no idea what the man had done to him, but the pain was more excruciating than anything he had ever faced before. He was howling in agony as if it was his own Dread Prince that was administering the pain.
"And you have stayed with that ever since. Very impressive, Pithon. Usually, I have to weather a few days of threats against me and anyone else who happens to be in the room. It gets very tiresome. But you still haven't answered the question correctly."
"Why do you wish to seek Heaven?"
This question had been repeated incessantly since Pithon had been bound into this chair. He thought he answered it correctly so long ago, but this...angel wasn't satisfied with anything he said. But he had reflected on this in the times that the man had left him alone. The Taker took a deep breath and prayed from the bottom of his Heart that he was answering it right this time.
"I am...ashamed of what I was. I can't bear being a demon anymore."
He could now see the man's face clearly. There was no expression there, nothing in his eyes. The Impudite stared at him with the eye that hadn't been swollen shut, and swallowed his terror. He waited for an eternity before he heard that voice again.
"You know that there are those who seek Heaven and they get destroyed when they are bathed in it's Glory for the first time, Pithon?"
"No, I didn't. But I don't care. Please. I just-"
"You don't care if you are destroyed? Your forces will be dispersed throughout the Symphony and all that will remain is just memories that are easily forgotten."
"I don't want to die," Pithon admitted. "But I don't want to live as I was anymore. I want to make things right."
"You have a lot to make right, don't you?" the man asked.
The Impudite nodded and tears began to flow down his face. He didn't feel any shame over it though; the grief felt...clean. He began to weep openly, feeling the horror of the past few days be replaced by a sense of hope that he dared to believe was real. The manacles fell away and Pithon buried his head in his hands.
Iphedeiah stepped out of the room and walked calmly into his office. He bowed before the young woman that was sitting in front of his desk and staring at him in open disapproval.
"Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Archangel Novalis. I believe Pithon is ready to seek the mercy of Heaven and that he will survive Redemption."
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