The Art of Survival

Chapter 3: Aurum


Sahasha is a small demon in comparison to many of her kin, with odd coloring and a bitter envy for the rest of her clan. Where many of her clanmates have beautiful dark skin and bright eyes she's been cursed with a pale gray complexion, gangly limbs and four dark black eyes set high in her round face. For as long as she can remember she's been a sickly little thing, the target of constant ridicule and scorn. He mother died when she was born and her father just a few years after, killed while out scavenging for food. She's lived as a ward of her village ever since, relegated to the most unsavory of tasks and treated as nothing more than an inconvenience.

They're fools to discredit her though.

What Sasha lacks in physical strength she makes up for in cunning and patience. She's been biding her time, waiting for the right opportunity. And it has finally come in the form of two Nephilim falling out of the sky.

Sahasha would show them all. Today everything would change.

She scurries down the winding streets of Gehenna's capital city, dark eyes darting around anxiously as she weaves through heavy throngs of people. She's never ventured beyond the town of Jurak, certainly never made her way into the city before, and she can't help but be in awe of her opulent surroundings.

The buildings are constructed from shimmering white stone and inlaid with spiderwebs of gleaming silver, gold and copper. They stretch high into the sky, sparkling in the sunlight. Wealth is reflected in every facet of the city of Aurum. Even the roads are paved smooth, spiderwebs of rich colors spilling across their surface. All around her people are dressed head to toe in a vibrant rainbow of fine silks and expensive jewelry, haggling loudly with the merchants who have brought their wares in from the border towns. The tantalizing scent of roasting meats and fragrant spices fill the air, tickling her senses and making her mouth water.

Sahasha's empty stomach grumbles disparagingly.

It took her eleven long and arduous days to traverse the Putrid Wastes, the wide expanse of desert that separates Aurum—and the Border Towns—from the rest of Gehenna. The desert is so named for the horrible, fetid odor that always lingers in the air. It's a wasteland of gray sand, black rock and the bones of the dead that have been scoured clean by either sandstorms or the horrible creatures that live there. Rumor says the creatures used to be normal wildlife, but one day a terrible magic descended over the desert and turned them into monstrous things made of twisted bone and rotting flesh. They were cursed to forever wander stuck halfway between life and death. They're called Orogans and it's said that they can consume a man whole in seconds. If their bit doesn't kill you it turns you into one of them, a fate far worse than death. Sometimes, on especially quiet nights, their wailing cries can be heard even in town.

Sahasha was lucky enough not to have encountered any of the beasts on her journey, but by the end of her trek her rations had run out. Now she's hungry, thirsty and beyond tired. Her belly grumbles again, loudly protesting its mistreatment and she eyes something cooking over a fire covetously. Juice drips from the chunk of roasting meat, crackling and popping as it hits open flame.

Sahash wrenches her gaze from the food. She doesn't have time to stop for a meal. Nor does she have the coin to purchase it. That will all change however, once she brings her news to the king.

The crowd begins to thin the closer she gets to Gehenna's castle and she feels apprehension settle heavy against the back of her neck. She tries to be succinct in her explanation to the two sentries posted at the exterior doors, fidgets nervously as they regard her with bored distain. Several long minutes pass before they finally agree to let her through and push the massive golden doors open to allow her entry.

The interior of the castle is even more breathtaking than the outside. Intricately carved statues of hellhounds flank a long hallway of gleaming white marble, torchlight flickering across their faces in a way that makes them appear eerily lifelike. Gem encrusted golden picture frames are set in the empty spaces between the statues, each one displaying a scene of some kind. She recognizes the fighting pits in one, the marketplace in another. They are all depictions of wealth and status. Oh, how she wants to be a part of this world, this golden city and its rainbow silk wrapped people.

Steeling herself, she pushes open the interior doors to the throne room and slips inside with her heart in her throat.

OXOXOXOXO

Mammon, king of Gehenna, Prince of Hell and greater demon of avarice and greed, is as beautiful as he is cruel. His outward appearance is ethereal and angelic, vibrant green eyes, pale skin and hair like spun gold. He looks kind. Benevolent.

He is not.

He lounges indolently atop his throne, a massive grisly thing carved from the bones of his vanquished enemies and inlaid with precious gems. He's simmering in anger.

Since his banishment back to Gehenna 300 years ago he's ruled the realm with cruelty and fear, enjoying the greed and desire for wealth that runs rampant in the capital city of Aurum. There are few foolish enough to challenge him and those that do are made examples of in the fighting pits at the center of the city. It doubles as both punishment and entertainment and his subject pay well to watch the matches.

But it isn't enough.

While the greed and desire of the demons around him is sustaining it isn't satisfying. He remembers the covetous selfish nature of human's and he hungers for it. Their gluttony was exquisite, like sweet ambrosia.

Mammon is bored with this realm and its meagre offerings, the predictable, flavorless energy he's subsisted on for the last three hundred years.

His plan is a simple one, really. He sends his demons to earth to strike bargain with the humans, their immortal souls in exchange for wealth, power, more time with their loved ones, et cetera. And when they meet their inevitable ends their souls—instead of finding new life in the natural cycle of reincarnation—come to Gehenna for him to savor for the rest of eternity. He's not trying to escape his realm, he quite likes is here, but he's bored. He wants variety.

He's been patient so far. It takes time to build up enough power to rip holes in the fabric of reality after all, but now that he's finally found a way to send his demons to Earth he's hit another roadblock.

Those fucking Nephilim are proving to be more of a nuisance than he's anticipated. No matter how many demons he throws at them they're still managing to repel the bulk of his forces. The thought makes him seethe.

Mammon glances up as the doors to his throne room inch open, pulling him from his musings. He purses his lips in annoyance at the interruption. Through them comes a single scraggly looking demon, who promptly falls to the floor to prostrate herself before him. The pitiful creature stretches her arms out wide, presses her forehead against the cold floors in supplication as she waits for permission to speak. She's trembling in fear.

Her terror is potent but beneath that is a spark of something Mammon recognizes easily. Desperation for recognition, for power, for wealth. What a greedy little thing she is. This, Mammon can work with.

The greater demon lets several long minutes pass in silence, enjoying the way the demon quivers at his feet. He hums in mock thoughtfulness, one long black nail tapping his bottom lip as he regards the pathetic creature. "What clan do you come from?" His voice is soft, speech pleasantly musical, but he doesn't miss the way the demon on the floor still flinches. He smiles darkly, savoring the fear that rolls off her in waves.

"J-Jurak Clan your Majesty," the demon squeaks.

"That is quite the journey." It's not a question, he knows exactly where Jurak is. He knows where everything is in his realm. Mammon tilts his head to the side curiously, the motion almost birdlike. Just what would prompt this lowly demon to travel so far and risk the wrath of a Prince of Hell? Curious indeed. "Tell me creature, why do you come here today?"

"I bring news my King, important news, news that I think will please you very much Highness."

Mammon snarls, his beautiful face twisting into something dark and ugly, green eyes flaring with anger. "Do not dare to presume what will please me worm!"

The little gray demon shrinks into herself even more, her whole body vibrating violently in terror now. "Of course not my King, apologies! This humble worm knows nothing your Graciousness! I simp-"

Mammon cuts her off with another growl. The sound reverberates loudly through the cavernous throne room. "What is this news? If I determine it to be of interest to me you may well survive your interruption today." Maybe. If he's feeling generous.

At this the demon dares to peek up from her place on the floor, her dark eyes wide with something that resembled excitement. "Nephilim your Majesty! Two of them fell from the sky. The healer brought them to Jurak to treat their injuries."

Mammon's pale golden eyebrows rise sharply, he sits forward on his throne, piercing gaze boring into the prone demon. "Nephilim?" Shadowhunters in his realm? Well, this is an interesting turn of events.

Now the demon is excited, she rises to her elbows, bobbing her head up and down enthusiastically. "Yes my King! Yes! I saw them with my very own eyes! With your permission and…and some assistance I can bring them to you! I would be honored to bring them to you."

Mammon holds up a hand to silence her ramblings. It's been a long time since he's seen the Nephilim in battle, but what he remembers of Raziel's children is that they are fierce fighters, strong and cunning. These Nephilim would make an excellent addition to his collection. He knows the occupants of Aurum would pay exorbitant sums to see Shadowhunters in the blood pit.

This little demon just may walk out of here with her life after all. "What is your name?"

"Sahasha your Graciousness."

"You have brought me good news indeed Sahasha. I will lend you the use of my Eblis. Go and collect my Nephilim for me and you will be handsomely rewarded."

Sahasha nods again, lowering herself back to the floor. "Of course my King. I will not fail you!"

No. Mammon thinks, You won't. He approves of her greed.

OXOXOXOXO

Sahasha's head is spinning, heart pounding a staccato beat in her chest as she's lead from the throne room by a pretty, dark skinned attendant. The girl is dressed in soft white silk, footsteps whisper soft as she guides Sahasha down a long corridor. The air smells faintly floral here. Pleasantly sweet.

This whole situation feels surreal, and Sahasha almost can't believe she survived. The king had even been pleased with her. She can't suppress the broad smile that curls her lips as she follows the attendant through a heavy door and into a dimly lit room.

The room is warm, that sweet floral scent stronger now. In the center, set deep into the tile is a steaming bath, flower petals floating lazily on the surface of the water. The servant gestures to the bath.

"Please, his majesty requests that you have a bath and meal before your journey back to Jurak tomorrow." The woman says with a low bow. Her voice is soft, like tinkling chimes, and Sahasha wonders if palace servant trained how to speak like that. Surely nobody is that naturally graceful or demure.

She knows better than to turn down a 'request' from the king and quickly strips off her rough travel clothes, grimacing at the filth and dust clinging to the fabric. The attendant quickly takes them from her and disappears back out the door to the bath chamber, leaving Sahasha to her own devices. She hesitates only briefly before sinking into the soothing bathwater with a relived sigh. She knows bathing like this is a true luxury only afforded to those that live in the capital city.

Will this be her life now? If she delivers the Nephilim to the king will she be allowed to stay here? To enjoy things like baths? The thought makes her giddy and she giggles excitedly. Never again will she have to clean out cook pots or scrub dirty laundry. She'll have her own servant to cook for her, to clean, to cater to her every whim.

After several long minutes the servant finally returns, carrying with her a tray balanced with food and wine. The food is delicious. There is stew—laden with savory chunks of meat swimming in the thick broth—a hunk of crusty bread, still warm from the oven, slices of creamy cheese and juicy pieces of fruit. The wine is robust, sweet and tart. Sahasha doesn't think she's ever had such a decadent meal before.

She finished her meal quickly, savoring every last bite of the delicious food before finally leaving the warmth of the bath. She slips into the new clothes provided for her, marveling at the softness of the material against her skin. The dark blue fabric shimmers with threads of silver, the exquisite craftmanship unmistakable.

As she is lead to a guest room and bid a pleasant evening she can't help but lose herself in the fantasy of a life just like this. She will bring those Shadowhunters to her king or dye trying. She'll make him happy and she'll carve out her own place in this lustrous city. Sahasha will never be anyone's dog again. She'll have servants at her beck and call, her belly would always be full. Yes. This is the life she is meant to live.

TBC…


Hello my lovelies! I know this chapter is a little shorter than the others but I wanted to set the scene for the impending drama. Next chapter will bring us back to our Shadowhunters and we'll get to see how they're faring in Gehenna. Thank you for your lovely comments and kudos, I appreciate you!
-GPO