In a realm where the earth met the heavens, there dwelled a demon lord named Azariell, who, through a twist of fate, found himself fallen from grace.

This was no grand surprise, for how could a demon ever hope to triumph over the celestial gods? Azariell understood this well, better perchance than any other. Thus, when he beheld the gods arrayed against him, their divine bows drawn and swords gleaming, the demon knew his defeat was inevitable. Completely vanquished, with no room for bitterness, he merely smirked, closed his eyes, and let himself fall. From the highest clouds, he descended, appearing as a tiny speck, like a comet fragment hurtling towards the earth. He spread his body wide, welcoming the searing air that sliced through him, setting him ablaze from his fiery red hair to his blackened heart. Blood sprayed into the sky, tears swallowed inward. He faced the storm of arrows with his chest and belly, dragging his shattered form through the desert sands.

Azariell wandered aimlessly until he collapsed under a blue moon. High above, the gods, their thrill of battle waning, gradually departed. Who wouldst bother to strike a foe that no longer had the strength to resist? Such an act would be tasteless and devoid of glory. Soon, only Azariell remained, alone, calmly listening as his flesh tore from his bones, the desert's night chill seeping into his marrow. Cold, as cold as death. The demon was certain that in a few moments, the gates of hell would open, and he wouldst slip into them, thus ending his existence.

But being a demon, how could he fathom the whims of the gods, oh Azariell? In the frenzy of battle, it was unclear which god had cast a curse upon him. Now, the demon was banished from all three realms—heaven, earth, and the underworld—but was denied the peace of death. No hell wouldst dare to harbor him.

Thus, he was doomed to lie there, gasping and suffering for eternity. The strange but potent curse wouldst keep him from fading away, yet not quite dead either. He would become a wandering wretch until the gods themselves fell. And when could that ever happen, Azariell?

The desert slowly drew the blood from the demon's body, the blood seeping through layers of sand to the ancient depths below. Wind and time buried him. Now, he had bones that could not move, a mouth that could not scream, only an eye that stared unblinkingly, trying to peer through the thickening layers of sand into the sky above.

Gradually, as even storytellers forgot the tale of a defeated demon, the sands where he had fallen suddenly burst with water from the earth's core. The water surged forth, cool and plentiful, filling a pit that gleamed like a mirror, reflecting a corner of the sky.

-

For a hundred years, though droughts cameth and went, the oasis pool ne'er did dry. Birds did flock to drink and did drop seeds of distant lands. Over another decade, a lush garden did flourish about the water. The garden brimmed with wildflowers and fragrant herbs, and with apricot trees bearing abundant white blossoms. Under the moonlight's glow, the oasis gleamed like a pearl amidst the vast desert darkness.

One day, guided by unknown forces, a caravan belonging to Tahal, the greatest merchant of the City of Sands, didst stumble upon the oasis whilst transporting goods. They did decide to rest there. Seeing the nearly ripe fruits, the caravan members picked a few to take back, intending to present them to their master. Days later, after a meal, Tahal was served the apricots. He was astonished. The apricots were thrice to four times the size of ordinary ones, round, golden like the setting sun, exuding a fragrant aroma, and sweet as a lover's kiss.

Sensing the presence of something precious, Tahal himself did venture into the desert on the next journey. From dawn to dusk, he rode, until the garden appeared, first as a mirage, then as a vivid, vibrant marvel. Tahal cautiously did enter the garden, perplexed. It seemed to be a regular oasis, with a still pool of water slightly different from other ponds and lakes. Yet, Tahal felt as if mocking whispers were carried on the wind, coming from the otherworld.

"Let us see what enchantment lies here," quoth he.

Having traded across the world for decades, facing life and death, lawsuits, and assassins hired by rivals, Tahal was no stranger to danger. He laughed scornfully, ordering his servants to clear a space near the pool to set up camp. Standing by the water's edge, he listened to the chopping sounds behind him and watched the water's surface ripple gently with each stroke, chuckling softly.

That night, he instructed his men to guard the pool carefully and wake him at the slightest disturbance. Yet, after eating an apricot, he fell into a deep sleep as soon as he lay down. In the dead of night, whether still dreaming or awake, Tahal heard the wind rustling through the leaves, growing louder until it seemed to call his name.

"Tahal. Tahal. Why dost thou dare to live? Thou greedy, cruel, venomous like a snake, cunning like a fox. Thy wealth is bought with blood, thy mansion built on bones. Art thou not afraid to step into this cursed place?"

"Afraid? Cursed?" Tahal rose calmly, stepping out of his tent. The garden was shrouded in darkness, with only the sound of the wind growing stronger, faintly accompanied by the distant ringing of bells. Yet, despite the wind's howl, the pool remained utterly still, reflecting every star above, like an eye from another realm, seeking answers in the sky.

Tahal chuckled softly:

"I have witnessed all the evils in the world. Priests demanding offerings of young boys and maidens, calling it a holy sacrifice. Kings conscripting young men in the name of expanding the realm, only to let them die nameless on the battlefield. Corrupt officials who brighten at the sight of gold. They all coveted the wealth in my hands. They blamed me for not contributing more to the treasury, causing the army's defeat. They hired sorcerers to cast curses, sprinkled enchanted water on my walls to summon demons. They accused me of kidnapping maidens. They claimed I thrived by drinking children's blood. They murdered my children when my hair had not yet turned gray. Have I not been cursed enough? What kind of demon dares to think its curse is stronger than theirs?"

"Come."

The wind whispered in his ear and pushed him forward, lifting him and tossing him into the pool. For a moment, Tahal panicked, struggling to surface, but something malevolent pulled him deeper. The water was unfathomably deep and dark. It filled his mouth and nose, suffocating him. Exhausted, he surrendered to the depths.

When he felt lighter, he opened his eyes, horrified by the scene before him. The sky was ablaze with red and orange hues. Behind clouds were countless gods, adorned in splendid robes and gleaming armor, crowns studded with jewels. They shouted so loudly it seemed the sky might shatter. They drew bows, unsheathed swords, and nocked arrows. The clashing of their weapons resonated like a victorious anthem. The overwhelming and righteous excitement made Tahal shudder with fear.

Now, in his dream, Tahal saw through another's eyes. That being did let himself fall, accepting defeat before the battle began. Blood spattered the sky, tears fell inward, becoming an overwhelming sorrow. For just a moment, had he reached a bit further, he might have touched the edge of the sky, beyond which lay the stars' refuge. But it was not to be. The trap had sprung, the battle horn sounded. A demon must remain here, in the three realms, playing the villain in eternal legends. Storytellers believed the most captivating tales were of struggles, with one side victorious, basking in glory, while the other fell in shame. But he was tired. He no longer wished to play a predetermined role. He only wanted to disappear forever.

Such a colossal crime! Such deceitful ambition! Without demons, how could the gods have glory? Hence, he did not deserve forgiveness, nor the right to die. Death was an opportunity for his soul to reincarnate into another form, to be reborn as a lamb or a horse. The deserter deserved nothing. He would remain here, between realms, belonging to none. He had eyes that could not see, a mouth that could not scream.

Tahal's eyes opened wide. Thunderous arrows rained down, piercing as if he did not exist. But Tahal understood, the one who showed him this vision had endured brutality beyond any battle, buried beneath sadistic pleasure, making Tahal shiver.

Where the demon had fallen, green moonlight and red sands covered the spot. The moon's light oozed, the sands swirled. A century passed in a moment. His blood filtered through time and layers of sediment, becoming an underground spring that rose to form a pool, an eye gazing at the sky, questioning if the gods above were truly satisfied.

Tahal awoke, half-standing, half-sitting in the pool. His servants lit torches around the garden, their reflections flickering like will-o'-the-wisps in the water. Hearing their frantic calls, Tahal came to his senses, returning to himself. Led back to the tent and dressed in clean clothes, he thought it had all been a dream. But the profound shock within him made him believe it was real. It was a summons, a signal the demon-haunted garden had imprinted on him. That signal, before dawn, had already taken root in his heart, spreading like a pox, causing him to shiver with fever.

His servants, thinking their master was ill from the night's ordeal, urged him to leave the oasis immediately. But Tahal knew what the searing heat coursing through his veins was. It was more intoxicating than wealth, more exhilarating than wine, sweeter than love.

It was a thirst for revenge.

An overwhelming desire to destroy all three realms, to shatter the earth, burn the underworld, and pull down the sky.

If there could be no freedom, then let us imprison each other in this wretched place.

Tahal returned home, locking himself in his chamber for days. At sunset on the fifth day, he stepped into his garden, taking out a compass to check the direction of the pool. The evening sun bathed his now slightly gaunt face in a blood-like hue, filling his eyes, making his pupils contract and then soften with an indescribable emotion. Tahal breathed heavily. How cursed! He had decided to enter a pact from which there was no return. The air was filled with faint bell chimes, the sound of flutes and harps, which quickly dissipated, almost unheard by anyone but the lone man at the threshold. Tahal regained his composure, his fear replaced by immense joy.

"Very well. Thou wishest to destroy the gods. I wish to mock mankind. Shall we make a deal, oh demon?"

Ten days hence, Tahal did return unto the City of Sands with ten baskets of ripe apricots. Ere the carts did reach the city gates, the fragrant aroma of the apricots did waft through the narrow alleys. The townsfolk, entranced by the scent, were as if in a dream. They didst step from their abodes, walking as though inebriated, standing along the main street to gaze upon the camel-drawn carts entering the city. The baskets were covered with fine cloth, but a breeze did lift a corner, revealing the apricots and causing the crowd to murmur in delight. None had yet touched them, but the people did whisper that the fruits seemed so sweet and fresh that a single bite would flood the mouth with a heavenly fragrance and a taste beyond mortal delight.

Tahal did present four baskets unto the king's palace, three unto the temples of the city's guardian deities, two unto the noblemen and officials, and one unto the black market, where gang leaders did sell them at exorbitant prices to the wealthy merchants and landlords. It was said that after the king and his concubines partook of the apricots, they felt rejuvenated, their strength renewed, and their skin as smooth and youthful as ever. The sovereign did forget all his woes, and even the news of the army's dwindling supplies on the battlefield did not incite his anger. The temples shed their solemn air, and the priests did laugh and jest during their rituals. The officials, having tasted the apricots, behaved with great courtesy, their faces bright and their movements leisurely as if freshly cleansed. The wealthy of the city, hearing of the divine apricots, did seek them fervently, willing to trade a bar of gold for a single fruit. Those who did acquire and consume them all agreed: the apricots were a gateway to paradise.

Seven days thereafter, the governor of the City of Sands did invite Tahal to dine with him. After a bountiful feast, the governor did gently rub his hands together and inquire softly, "Pray, good friend, where didst thou find such miraculous fruit? The king hath grown quite restless this morn. He hath grown accustomed to them these past days, consuming them in place of his meals, and is now nearly out of the last basket."

Tahal, feigning deep contemplation, rose and did pace about, gently stroking the crest of a peacock used for decoration in the garden, its feet chained to a shining marble pedestal. Seeing Tahal's hesitation, the governor did approach, employing all his eloquence to persuade him:

"Good sir, our friendship hath spanned more than a decade. I do worry greatly for thee, as accusations of tax evasion have reached the king's ear. This matter, though small, is of great import to the kingdom's coffers, and the king is extremely attentive. Thou shouldst show thy loyalty so that the king might weigh the matter with leniency."

Tahal sighed deeply, "My friend, have I not already contributed ample provisions and wealth for the campaign? Should I suffer more disgrace for these wondrous fruits? Especially when they are not from my own gardens or lands. I did receive a vision..."

"A vision?" The governor, sensing this matter was of greater import than he had thought, did press for more details. Tahal, after some hesitation, did adopt a mysterious tone:

"On the night before, I dreamed of a Guardian Deity seated upon a violet cloud. He was more majestic and solemn than any Lord we have ever worshipped. The Guardian didst say he came from beyond the cosmos, passing by our land of Sands by chance. He was pleased by the king's justice, the integrity of the court, the wealth of the people, and their reverence for the divine. He didst show me the sacred garden where he did tarry upon the mortal realm to enjoy its beauty. There, he commanded mythical creatures to plant fragrant flowers and exotic herbs, and apricot trees dusted with the stardust from his home. When I awoke, I heard birds singing and the sound of bells and lutes as if in a holy ceremony, and my heart did tremble. I followed the path he revealed, praying earnestly that this vision be true. The journey was not far, yet it seemed the Guardian had cast a spell such that only I could see the sacred garden. In the garden, flowers did bow to me, herbs did part, and the laden apricot trees did lower their branches, offering their fruit. I heard the Guardian instructing me to share these fruits with those who make our land great, that they may partake in his blessings. I, too, did taste one... My friend, did it not feel as though you were at heaven's gate?"

"Indeed, indeed! One bite lifted the soul, three bites brought one to heaven's threshold. Tahal, does this garden of apricots have more fruit? Where is it? Canst thou lead me there?"

Seeing the greed in the governor's eyes, Tahal feigned sorrow and shook his head: "The Guardian did command me that he prefers solitude. I am only to visit the garden each month to bring back the fruit. Under no circumstances should I reveal its location. If we disrespect his wishes and incur his wrath, the consequences would be dire. His power lies beyond our mortal ken!"

With that, Tahal did take his leave, bidding the governor farewell, with a faint mocking smile playing on his lips.

-

On that very day, a month hence, in the dim light of dawn, the gate guards of the city heard a tumultuous clamor at the gates. A group of the governor's servants were there, shouting and pounding on the door. Hastily, a squad of guards lit torches, opened the side gate, and cautiously stepped outside, only to behold a harrowing sight. The governor's servants were in a frenzy, screaming and gasping for breath. The pack animals—horses and camels—collapsed outside the city walls, foaming at the mouth. The servants, burdened with baskets covered in blood-red linen, fell to the ground, crying and panting.

The guards, trembling, approached and lifted a corner of the linen, only to recoil in horror. Inside the basket lay the head of the governor, half-devoured by some savage beast, one eye wide open as if it had witnessed the most blasphemous, horrific sight.

There were more than half a dozen baskets, all heavy on the servants' backs, causing them to collapse. The contents of the baskets spilled out, catching the first rays of the morning sun.

In the desert, beside the silent pool, Tahal sat at a small stone table he had ordered to be brought the previous evening. He drank wine, smiling radiantly in the first light of day. The sunlight glinted off the red wine, making it shimmer like liquid rubies.

It seemed the horror of the night had not frightened Tahal in the least. Yet, the lord knew he would remember the spectacular sight for the rest of his life. From the pool, a shadow with sharp teeth had risen, swelling into a monstrous beast, then pounced upon the greedy soul who had followed Tahal to the oasis. The terror in the man's eyes, his mouth unable to scream... The power and brutality were beyond anything Tahal had ever imagined. Though Tahal thought himself ruthless, he knew he was but mortal flesh, no match for the savagery of a demon reigning in another realm.

At dawn, the demon had returned to the pool, leaving behind a bloody maw on the water's surface and a hissing sound that lingered in Tahal's ears. Smiling, he asked:

"What manner of demon art thou, that I have ne'er heard of thee?"

The demon hissed, baring its teeth in a grim, half-smile, half-sneer. Tahal shrugged:

"Thou dost not reveal thy name; it matters not. Thou need only honor the pact between us. I have traded in jewels, silk, gold, and silver for many years. Now, to trade in gods and spirits seems only fitting. Hast thou seen how they are enchanted by thy spell, nearly ready to worship thee as the god who leads to paradise? Even the high king on his throne or the high priest in his grand temple. Soon, thou shalt replace all other deities on the altar and in prayers. Thou shalt gain enough power to once more challenge the heavens."

Tahal sipped his wine, continuing:

"All I ask is that thou makest them a source of amusement for me. My life hath ne'er been so merry as it is now..."

Tahal laughed heartily, rambling on. The demon did not listen, sinking back into the pool. The water rippled briefly, then stilled, once again calm as if nothing had ever disturbed its depths. Now, the surface shone clear, like an eye gazing skyward.

-

All the servants who witnessed that dreadsome night had their memories wiped clean. They wandered about in a daze, as madmen. With no witnesses and no evidence, the death of the Governor of the City of Sands did stir waves of rumors throughout the city. Some claimed he had gone to visit a young lover in another town and was attacked by hyenas upon his return. Others did speculate that he had crossed the wrong gang, was kidnapped, tortured, and then disposed of. The situation grew so dire that the King himself had to issue an edict to calm the populace. Though many did listen and dispersed quietly, there were still those who snickered mockingly.

"Serves him right!" they did say. "He wielded power for years, and under his rule, countless people were imprisoned, countless small traders were ruined because they could not pay his bribes."

On the day of the Governor's funeral, Tahal did bring ten more baskets of apricots to the capital, distributing them with careful consideration. When the King saw the apricots, he smiled, easing the weariness caused by the relentless rumors. Rumors that spake of the City of Sands being haunted by demons, that these foul creatures had scented the blood soaking the very ground of the capital. Such rumors had plagued the King's sleep the night before. In his dream, he saw the wide-open eye of the Governor, staring straight at him, the half-devoured mouth dripping black blood, pleading for the King's help, citing his contributions of countless elixirs that had kept the King vigorous past fifty years of age. The nightmare was so terrifying that the King had a seizure in the night, taking over two hours of care and medication to stabilize. Only when he held the apricot given by Tahal did he feel truly calm. Eating one fruit and then taking a short nap, his mind felt unusually at ease. By afternoon, remembering something important, he summoned Tahal to the palace. Tahal, upon hearing the summons, promptly made his way to the palace, entering the study, and respectfully bowed before the King.

The King smiled, his eyes twinkling with a dreamy light:

"Tahal, friend of the departed, I share in thy sorrow for the loss of a loyal servant of the City of Sands. I assure thee, the cause of his death shall be thoroughly investigated, so our old friend may find solace in the afterlife... I am also grateful for the apricots thou hast brought, for they have brought me great comfort. Just one fruit hath rejuvenated me, lifted my spirits, and felt like a divine blessing. If these fruits could be grown in the royal gardens, it would be wonderful indeed."

Hearing the King's voice, tinged with the addiction to the enchanted fruit, Tahal understood the King's desire. He began to recount the tale of the Guardian Deity, but unlike the greedy Governor, the King was deeply devout. Upon hearing the story, the King was taken aback, pondering for a moment before saying:

"The Guardian Deity must have his reasons. Tahal, thou art surely his emissary. If thou art granted another revelation, please tell the Guardian that I, the King of the City of Sands, vow to worship him with incense and offerings, no less than any other deity. Dost thou know the name and appearance of this Guardian? I shall have an artist paint and a sculptor carve a statue from precious stone to add to our temples."

"Your Majesty, the Guardian hath yet to reveal his name. His form in the revelation is majestic, more imposing than all the deities I have learned of from the scriptures. He often gazeth at the sky, with eyes that reflect all the clouds and stars." Tahal carefully chose his words, thinking of the pool that gazed skyward, smiling inwardly.

"Excellent! Excellent! Summon the High Priest!" The King exclaimed. "Tahal, do not leave yet. Tonight, the three of us shall discuss the rites to honor the Guardian, pray for his protection against all misfortunes, and bless our City of Sands to become even greater."

Tahal bowed and smiled.

-

The renown of the Guardian Deity from afar didst spread like a pestilence throughout the City of Sands. In but one night, the program of worship for the Guardian Deity was approved by the High Priest and presented to the religious council. Painters labored tirelessly, and by the ninth day, the first portrait of the Guardian Deity, as described by Tahal, was completed. In the painting, the demon took the place of a god, appearing imposing and cold, standing tall and shrouded in a long black cloak like the night. His face was stern, gazing heavenward, with piercing eyes deep as the night sky, holding the light of stars.

When Tahal beheld the painting, he was truthfully startled. He had merely spoken carelessly, but seeing the depiction, he once again envisioned the ruthless and solitary demon, reaching desperately for the radiant border of the heavens.

A divine connection? A demon's curse? Tahal cared not.

He was ensnared by the intoxicating whirlpool of mockery and revenge. Once the painting was finished, statues of the demon began to rise in temples large and small, suffused with incense and hymns of praise. Songs extolling the Guardian Deity were composed and sung with great fervor. Tahal, playing the diligent emissary of the Guardian Deity, regularly offered the enchanted apricots to the palace and the council of priests. These apricots, imbued with the demon's magic, now became divine gifts, and only the most fortunate could partake of them. Upon first consumption, they brought immense joy, but afterward, one felt restless, anxious, trembling as though recovering from an illness, haunted by an invisible shadow. The nobility invited Tahal to their homes continuously, offering jewels, precious stones, slaves, and lavish concubines in exchange for more of the divine apricots to sustain their blissful delusion. With each passing month, the void and fear following the consumption of the apricots grew ever more severe. Thus, the king and nobles became creatures half-awake, half-dreaming, neglecting the façade of piety they wore over their mortal skins.

In but three months, Tahal nearly completed the task of placing the demon upon the throne of lordship. Everything proceeded too smoothly, so much so that Tahal found it laughable. In all his years of trading far and wide, never had a venture been so resplendently successful. Perhaps the City of Sands deserved this blasphemy, for all the decadence and sin that had transpired within its intricate walls, under the half-open, half-closed eyes of both mortals and gods.

As the demon was worshipped, he grew stronger. At first, he was but a shadow flickering in the depths of the pool, startling the servants Tahal assigned to tend the garden. Day by day, from a faint wraith, he formed into a skeletal figure, then gradually stood straighter, his limbs solidifying, his power growing mightier. Occasionally, at Tahal's behest, he would decapitate a few greedy souls to demonstrate his might. Tahal was not horrified by these ghastly scenes; rather, he found them amusing.

One afternoon, Tahal came to the garden and saw by the pool a slender, tall youth with fiery red hair, clad in a black cloak that nearly blended with the wildflowers on the ground. This figure stood silently, gazing into the pool, which was transitioning from the light of dusk to the shroud of night, as if searching for something he was on the verge of forgetting.

Tahal cleared his throat. The youth turned, revealing one eye gouged out, the remaining eye sharp and penetrating, as if seeing through the world, just as Tahal had imagined. His body was scarred and long-since necrotized. Where wings should have been, only stubs of bone jutted out beneath the black cloak.

Tahal laughed and bowed, "Thou hast finally risen."

The demon shook his head. He was neither alive nor dead, neither defined nor named. Even the power he now possessed was in the guise of a false god.

"Behold, now no deity holds sway as thou dost. Soon, all other statues shall fall. Thou shalt be the sole Guardian Deity of the wealthy City of Sands. Then, whether thou choosest to live or die, it will be as easy as turning a hand."

The demon looked out over the garden, silent for a long time.

"... The High Priest did invite me to the great temple tomorrow, saying the council hath taken in some orphans. About twenty children, both boys and girls. He claimed they are fair of form and face, and he hopes I will attend the purification rite for these children. The King himself will also grace the occasion with his presence." Tahal laughed heartily, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What foul deeds dost thou think are about to transpire in the house of the holy?"

Tahal laughed uproariously, clutching his sides as he rolled on the ground, nearly delirious. Suddenly, he felt a tear at the corner of his eye. How odd, these foul deeds had become so familiar, the first he had witnessed over twenty years ago, when all his children were still alive, before any were lost to abduction, poisoning, or vanished without a trace. These memories had long since been buried, so why did they suddenly resurface, stirring an unease deep within his heart?

Tahal wiped his eyes and composed himself: "Tomorrow night, I shall bring a basket of apricots as a gift. Wilt thou also deign to bless the King and the High Priest with thy presence?" With that, he turned and left the garden.

"Azariell. The Cursed One."

The demon's raspy voice made Tahal pause. He turned, looked at the demon, and bowed:

"Tahal. Merchant of the City of Sands."

-

No one shouldst remember the events that transpired on that summer night.

As the Lord of the City of Sands did step forth from the heavy gates of the great temple, the flames had already risen. All worldly power lay behind him, within the ever-growing blaze that engulfed the fine drapery and wood of the main hall, casting a demonic red hue upon Tahal's visage, akin to the blood of bats.

Tahal stood silent upon the white stone threshold, amidst the chaos that began to unfold around him. The children hurriedly ran past his feet, spilling onto the steps and vanishing into the gathering crowd. Go forth, children, for thou shouldst not remain in this place of debauchery and sin. Let all the wickedness be borne by adults such as myself, the Lord of Sands. And let the children flee to a place untouched by calamity.

Behind Tahal, beyond the grand archway and the flaming corridors, deep within the great hall, on tables adorned with silken cloth now soaked in wine and catching fire, the King, the High Priest, the courtiers, and the council members lay in drunken stupor. They laughed with open mouths, their garments disheveled, some even stripped naked, dancing, and leaping to catch burning rafters falling from the ceiling. Upon the main altar lay the apricots, rolling and fragrant despite the thick smoke. Some rolled to the King's feet; he picked one up, kissed it fervently, and devoured it like a bat sucking blood. Then the King sprawled out, belly up, in utter bliss. He was in his highest euphoria, as were all within the temple.

Suddenly, one man howled like a wolf. His face contorted in an instant, his eyes bulged, red with fear, as if witnessing the worst nightmare. He charged into a burning column, causing it to collapse upon him.

Then followed the courtiers.

Then followed the High Priest, who had labored to find the twenty most beautiful children in all of the City of Sands, even those who were not orphans.

And finally, none other than the noble King himself. Oh, the King of the City of Sands and the prosperous realms surrounding the desert, blessed by the gods for his conquests that left nothing but dried blood in their wake. The end of a king is no different from those trampled by his horses – all turn to ash and return to the earth.

As he lay dying, the King stammered, eyes wide, facing the demon he had unwittingly raised as a Guardian Deity. In that moment, the demon revealed his true form, the most deceitful, cunning, and ruthless being of the three realms, emerging from the darkness.

The demon stood still, before the fallen King, ignoring the gods above who vainly thrust their swords. The demon glared upwards. In that instant, the gods overseeing the great hall trembled, realizing their defeat. They had been weakened by the lack of worship and offerings, blinded by a demon they had long ago banished from the realms.

"Az..." One god stammered, struggling to recall the demon's name. "Azariell, the Accursed. It is thee, it is thee!"

Azariell, now fully restored to his power and even mightier than before, gazed upon the feeble gods above. Once, they had forced him into the role of the villain in their tales of good triumphing over evil, gods vanquishing demons. Why should he not play the villain to perfection? Azariell's piercing gaze struck through them, his claws reached out and pierced them. The gods fell, crashing down among the frenzied mortals, all sinking into the sea of flames.

From above, the great temple appeared as a brilliant beacon within the vast darkness.

Tahal stepped away, merging into the crowd. Soldiers rushed to extinguish the fire. The townsfolk, both horrified and curious, gathered to witness the inferno consuming everything they once deemed inviolable, indestructible. Here and there, someone wept. Not out of sorrow, but from the sense that, at least, no evil goes unpunished, and perhaps a small, fleeting satisfaction in vengeance.

The grand blaze did not abate until dawn. The City of Sands, in one night, exhausted its water reserves. Tahal cared not, nor did he feel any triumph. His heart was empty, for all that had driven him to such depravity was now dead.

The lord mounted his camel and rode into the desert through the endless, indifferent sky. The demon, now once again a ruler, awaited his final decision on the fate of their pact.

"Shall we storm the heavens, Lord Azariell?"