CHAPTER THREE
JUDGEMENT
He entered Asgoroth's throne room, expecting nothing short of agonizing, torturous death. Asgoroth sat as Mercius had seen him so many times before: on his throne, with his beasts to either side, his scepter of bone and flesh and blood in his hand. He addressed Mercius calmly, which came as a surprise.
"You have failed me," he said simply. Mercius, his blood hot and the image of the beheaded woman still fixed in his mind, did not kneel. He stared defiantly at his master, and held his tongue. "But," Asgoroth continued, "I have expected this day to come. Your transition from human to demon is not yet complete. You still have a spark of weakness in your soul."
Mercius' reply was a whisper, but was strong and firm nonetheless. "I have no weakness. I have something that I cannot explain. Something that I believe you cannot experience. I feel it in my heart always, but it is not weakness. It could be strength, if permitted."
Asgoroth's tone was understanding, but commanding. "What you feel is love. It is a weakness, and it must be stamped out. Your transformation must be completed." For the next hour, Mercius was savagely beaten by Asgoroth's imps. His pain was intense, but served to focus the feeling inside him; to strengthen and concrete it in his soul. He fed all of his agony into it, which was subsequently devoured by the humming glow deep in his soul, and transformed into a tranquility that felt alien, but glorious. When the whips and knives were stilled, and Mercius lay naked on the floor in his own blood and sweat, the real torture began.
"It is time for you to finally meet your mother, Mercius," Asgoroth said. The boy was stunned. He had heard mention of his mother in passing, and had often wondered about her. But his curiosity always went unsatisfied and, indeed, punished, for he was forbidden to even speak of her. "Her name is Amelia," Asgoroth continued, "and she has been my slave since before your birth. A weak and pathetic creature, as is the rest of her race. You will see for yourself how worthless she is." He gestured to a demon by the door, and several moments later a tiny woman was brought in. Mercius stared at her from the floor where he sat. Her skin was pale and dirty. Her hair was thin and falling out in places. Her limbs were strong, but the flesh seemed stretched too thin somehow. There was a dullness in her blue eyes from years of slavery. She was beautiful. The thrum in Mercius' heart doubled in intensity as he looked into those eyes.
Immediately upon seeing him, Amelia burst into tears, and was allowed to rush to his side. She threw herself at the boy, and encircled him with the most comforting embrace he had ever imagined. She stroked and kissed his head, his eyes, his cheeks, muttering over and over, "My baby. My sweet baby boy." Her tears streaked through the blood that covered him. As she held him and whispered into his ear, Mercius felt as if his heart would explode, and he recognized this. He had felt this before, but only once, and briefly, when he was a naked infant in his mother's arms. He put his lacerated, bleeding arms around the tiny, frail woman, and wept.
For what seemed like ages, and only moments, Asgoroth allowed this entirely human response from his apprentice. Then, with quiet malice, he broke the reunion apart with a word: "Enough." Amelia was torn from her son's grasp, screaming and kicking and wailing with a strength and fervor that her emaciated form didn't suggest she possessed. Mercius was far too overcome with shock and realization to put up much protest. He simply went on crying miserably, burying his face in his hands where he knelt.
Asgoroth, with that familiar twist of his mouth that indicated scornful smugness, said, "Your mother is the last vestige of your humanity. From this point forward, you shall be entirely cleansed of weakness. Hate, anger, and vengeance will consume you, and you shall be my tool for destruction. I have planned for this day. Keeping your mother alive all these years was not mercy on my part. Her death will mean something; it will purge your soul of love. It will make you as you were always meant to be: ruthless, cruel, and evil." The demon lord pointed to the side of the room where a black stone plinth had been dragged in. There, Amelia was tied to the four corners, flat on her back. Mercius rushed to join her, to free her though it meant certain death for them both. He was halted, however, several yards before he reached her, and held fast on either side by two hulking demons.
With a gesture from Asgoroth, and to the utter horror of Mercius, several imps began their ministrations on the prone woman. Mercius began to scream and thrash as the knives cut away her flesh. The thrum in his soul turned to a pounding, then a hammering, as he wailed his new-found love for his mother, and his hate for her torturers. Amelia, however, was silent. As her skin was ripped slowly away, she gazed at her son. When Mercius had screamed himself hoarse, he looked at her through watering eyes. "Mercius," she said, for all the world as if she wasn't in unimaginable agony. "You are my son, and I love you." Tears of joy streamed from her eyes, and a smile lighted on her cracked lips. "You have been the only thing in this place that has given me hope, and happiness. Love, Mercius: it is what we are. It is human to love. You hold the advantage over these creatures, because they will never know what it is to love. Never let that die, my son. Never lose sight of who you are. You are my son, and I love you." After that, Amelia was no longer able to look upon the crumpled, weeping face of her boy, nor speak words to ease his soul, for her tongue was ripped from her mouth, and her eyes were cut out. It didn't take much longer for Amelia to die, nearly unrecognizable at the end, but through the entire hideous process, not once did she cry out in pain: she was free at long last.