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I have written many books on many subjects, but never once have I delved into my companion and best friend. Never before have I explained our meeting, or how it came that he has accompanied me ever since. I have heard the whispers already, those who speak as though they know what has happened, how I have tricked the Demon, how my powers are more than that of a Demon Lord. None of them come close to the truth, even if I admit to having tricked my friend on many occasions. He lives to tease and I return in kind.
The label demon is used in so many various ways, for creatures that truly do not instill the feeling the word provides. Demon means monster to many, not a species of its own. Other creatures, who have their own names, are considered classes under the demonic umbrella. Vampires especially have the stigma of being monsters, and monsters mean demons.
The other realm of thought is that demons were once angels who have fallen from the grace of whichever god is believed in. I have seen angels, angels who look down upon him and other demons they consider of a similar ilk. Their humanoid appearance they share with demons and us are some of the only similarities. I have asked my friend before if true demons did indeed come from angels. He laughed at this, but in truth never told me it was untrue. I do not know what to think of this, even now with years of communication with my Demon and many other encounters with demons and angels alike.
Demons are their own beings, separate from the other beings we call monsters. This is important because demons have their own classes, their own races, their own system of differentiating themselves, much like we do. It is surprising as in may ways we have comprehended this, yet use our words in unclear ways and to mean so many other beings as to muddy our own conception of the world around us.
My Demon is indeed a powerful one. The name most would call him by is attributed to the Demonic Princes, which indeed is a status we have correctly attributed in many ways. The Princes are not Princes by design, but by the power they hold in the places that demons come from. He is not a Prince, though many believe him to be. There are indeed reasons for this, chief amongst them being that demons enjoy confusing us. They do not care if we understand their social system, their actual power. They are inherently beings of chaos, trait which cannot be assigned to those of vampires, of lycans, of the fae. Vampires and lycans must live, and the fae have their own rules. Demons have their own rules as well, but these rules are much more flexible than that of the Fair Folk, and many of them do what they can to get away with actions that their own kind would not approve of. It is a game to them, in a culture where they pretend to serve those above them while with the other hand do exactly what their superiors do not want. It is a game which can easily end in their own death
There are indeed seven Princes, who in their own right are attributed sins. On the other side of sin is a virtue, my Demon reminds me, and it can easily be one, the other, or both. Demons prefer for us to believe it is solely sins, because this amuses them. They live their lives on their own terms, but constant interactions with us have proven to be a one sided relationship. They live much longer than we do, so much as we treat those we expect not to live along side us our entire lives, they have their fun with us as they see fit.
I believe there is more to the separation of sins with the Princes than my Demon has given me, but understand that perhaps it is not my place to completely comprehend such a complicated system. Or, perhaps their society isn’t that complicated at all in comparison to our own, but they love to give us the impression that it might be. Either way, until one deems fit to share more of their culture with us, we can only speculate. After a lifetime with my Demon and myself not much the wiser, I doubt it is information we will understand anytime soon.
The system by which many demons follow do in fact appear based upon what feeds them, which comes from those facets we call sins. My Demon is no Prince, but he lives on lust and the pleasures of the flesh. I believe his one regret during his time with me is that I never acquiesced to be involved in his life in such a way, but it is no regret that I share. He occupies another place in my heart, one made solely for him. I understand this is enough for him as well. Sex and love are not the same thing in his eyes, though he can entwine the two as he wishes. I cannot fault him for his very being. Not when he could use it as an excuse for terrible actions, yet refuses to do so.
The Demon is in a position he has compared with our usage of Duke of Hell--even has he chortles over the idea of hell--whether because hell does not exist or because he does not call it such a word I have no idea. The placement is high within their society, giving him much freedom where other demons might not.
The name he goes by while amongst us is not one of his own. It is the name of his position, of the specific Dukedom he holds, one he shares with other demons that he calls his brothers, though he and they do not hold any familial bonds with each other, only the position they hold. The masculine “brother” holds as much weight to it as the masculine “Prince”, for that says nothing about the gender or the sex of any of them. The language of demons is an intriguing one, one I have already written about in a book of its own and therefore will not repeat here.
He feasts upon the act of having sex. Whether himself or someone nearby, without his participation, though he prefers joining in when he can. It is not magic, he has explained to me many times, it is energy. It is the action. I have seen him consume food such as which would sustain me, though he has admitted enjoying it for the sake of its taste only, for it does nothing for his form either way. He enjoys using food in its own way to seduce others, though this is perhaps unfair of me to say. He uses everything and anything to seduce others as he desires and fulfills almost every desire another might have for such a culmination of passion. I say this from having witnessed such acts without my own desire to see, as he has no sense of propriety and perhaps only keeps some of his own words and actions out of public eye because of realizing how many of my fellow people during this time would rather run than face such facets of themselves where anyone might see them. Yet for the small pockets of people who do not care and have managed to do as they wish without being driven away by the prudence of others, he could lead them to a mountain of decadence I could never before imagine and is perhaps beyond what I ever wished to know about my neighbours’ tastes.
Despite how he could have indulged himself in ways inconceivable to myself, he has remained with me for years, until this moment where I place ink to paper to write about him. In this moment while he is not here, until he returns, I shall write about him. After which I shall spend my remaining days perhaps as the least interesting companion he could ever hope to have. Despite this he has promised to return to me. A lifetime of friendship should be enough for me, yet he decides to remain during my last days. I can no longer bring him into new situations. The adventures we have shared beyond either of our expansive imaginations. He would be here now if I had not requested for some time to myself. I do not recall the last time I truly had such a moment, with full knowledge of uninterrupted reflection, no mystery of when such span would be broken into. I know when he shall return and he knows where I am.
I have written many times about what the both of us have done, not nearly enough about him and what he has done for my very soul. Perhaps because it is difficult to put into words. It’s in reflection, a memory that perhaps is more infallible than another of my age would have. I can remember clearly the first day I met him. I can remember his precise words from five years ago, from twenty years ago.
Some call my memory demonic, when I explain the thoroughness my mind’s eye returns to me with clarity. A gift of the Demon. It matters not that I’ve had this ability since my childhood days, long before I began my dalliance with magic, let alone with my Demon.
I should begin with myself, something I never wrote about before. Not within the context of what I have become. Perhaps, if one were truly interested, they could collect the letters I have written over the years and piece together my life in that way. It is another window to my soul, there is no denying this. But those are through the filters of what I wished others to know. This is through the filter of how I wish others to know of the Demon who entered my life and brought about the woman now most within the fields of magic and those adjacent to that know as Petra Lakatos--Lady of the Hanged.
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