Your name is Sakareth. You are a young wrath demon prince by blood, which means you are both the son of the current wrath prince (Prince Almaran), and have the features of demonic royalty.
There can only be one prinxe per sin circle, or so the prince of pride (Prince Lucixiur) says. So now, you must fight your father to the death while the prinxes of the other six circles look on.
You wish you'd just stayed hidden away from the rest of the world.
-
"Sakareth."
The whisper catches you off guard, and you turn your head slightly to see who had spoken. Prinxe Asmarath was by your right side, their three generals flanking their right.
Your nose wrinkles in disgust, and you go to turn your head away, but Prinxe Asmarath speaks again, softly, and something about their tone has you wondering. Something about their voice makes you feel better and worse all at the same time.
"Sakareth, how old are you?"
You’re not sure why they ask. You’re fairly certain you’re about to die, and are on the verge of either being sick or breaking down. And yet, you feel as though you should answer.
"I’m 0.16," you murmur back, standing up taller as you continue to follow Prince Lucixiur, Prince Leviath, and Prince Almaran. Prinxe Asmarath almost looks dismayed, but they don't say anything. You don't know if you want them to.
The stale air hits you again, and you step outside the castle.
The ground is soft beneath your feet, and Prince Lucixiur gestures for you to follow him and Prince Almaran into the wide clearing behind the castle. There are wrath demons flocking to the sidelines, murmuring and talking, some with excitement, others with dread. You see some of your old neighbors. They don't look at you. None of them do.
"You know the rules," Prince Lucixiur starts off coolly, and Prince Almaran rolls his eyes. You simply stand still with dread. "Fair fight only. Incapacitate the other, and the challenge will be won." The prince of pride gives you a look. "Hopefully, you remember what I instructed you to say. Wouldn't want to embarrass yourself in your last moments."
You feel heat flush to your ears, whether in shame or rage, you don't know. You don't like the prince of pride, you've decided. You certainly don't like Prince Almaran either, but it's not like you'll be around much longer anyways.
Prince Lucixiur leaves you, and you can't bring yourself to watch him go. Prince Almaran backs up a few leagues, giving you a nasty grin. The wrath demons whoop and cheer as he crouches, spreading his wings. He's deliberately showing off.
None of them spare you a single glance.
"You may begin." Prince Lucixiur's voice rings out over the crowd, and they quiet down, reduced to low murmurs and the rustling of wings. You swallow, trying to clear your throat as discreetly as possible.
"I am Sakareth," you state, a poor attempt to be bold. Your voice is wavering. "And I challenge Prince Almaran for the right to the throne of the circle of wrath."
You're trembling. You can't bring yourself to look anywhere away from the nasty expression on Prince Almaran's face. You're scared of the expressions that everyone else will have.
"I, Prince Almaran, accept your challenge, Sakareth."
You tense, shifting your feet, and Prince Lucixiur's voice rings out once more, a note of something like cruel joy in his tone.
