Laughing, the Radio Demon merrily made his way to his destination, the look on Charlie's face replaying on a loop in his head. A small revenge for her little cheek kiss of a previous night.
But there was no time for that now. He entered the ancient library, its entrance covered in green webbed stalactites as if it hadn't been disturbed in years. It wasn't a typical destination for the average Hell resident, but its very existence has outlasted generations, upkept by some unknown and unseen influence.
It was dark inside, musty but cool. The deer demon conjured up a ball of fire. There were candelabras conveniently set nearby and he lit one without hesitation to light his way. He wandered through the aisles, attempting to navigate the convoluted organizational system. The books were sorted by some hidden system privy only to those who had set it in the first place.
It was difficult to find the information he craved and his constant trips to the library often turned out more fruitless than fruitful. At least he had a goal in mind this time, secrets of the Supernal Sea.
He turned down another dark lane, looking for 'H' books specifically about Heaven. Then he looked for books about bodies of water. Alastor grabbed several, clueless as to if they would actually contain anything useful.
"The Astral Atlas", one book in his arms read. Followed by a title written in Olde English: "Godes Rīces." He had a lot of reading and translating ahead of him at this rate.
His shadow manifested then, surprising Alastor in the dark. Its blue face glowed uncertainly. "Try 'celestial'" the shade suggested, offering up no more contribution than that.
Without a word, the deer demon searched high and low, his fire flickering in the dark of the shelves, casting eerie spectres upon the walls. His shadow practically blended in with the rest of them.
"Celestial Waters" the title caught his eye immediately and he grunted in thanks to his companion, surprised that his shadow was able to pinpoint the proper keyword.
He gathered up his newly acquired haul and made his way to a table, hoping to further sort through the more useless editions. He dumped them upon an abandoned wooden desk, sweeping off the years worth of dust and debris. Alastor lit some nearby sconces, lighting up the room of the study. The walls were adorned with ancient tapestry, depicting battles and figures of many a years past. The threads were a dazzling ruby red and bright blue lapis lazuli, a rare color to see in the confines of Hell.
The tapestry above his head depicted a golden crowned beast, its body stretching the height of the fabric. Black and gray limbs covered the rest, threaded in-between with the lapis lazuli blue, extending the length and wrapping around individuals sewed within the scene, red and gold threads exploding from their bodies. The beast had no defining features or face. Just black and looming and all encompassing. It caught Alastor's attention for a moment before he settled back in a seat.
He started with the book within his coat, gently removing the small tome of poetry to open it on the table.
There were a few sections that were bookmarked and Alastor smiled fondly, positive that his demon belle was responsible. He flicked to each page and saw that she had marked the poems that her father had shown them previously. They were exactly what he wanted to see. Especially the second one:
Saint beyond the sky!
The black all-knowing eye.
You rue'd and rue'd for all your sins,
And from the mark within…
A brand new bless'd might,
A soul bereft of night.
Tho Heaven's not the final call
But Light's eternal hall!
"The black all-knowing eye…" Alastor read aloud, recalling his conversation about 'the black eyes' he had with Zestial. More research he would have to engage in, another endless search he was sure of.
Was the black all-knowing eye the same entity? Was it the 'Saint beyond the sky'? Was the Saint beyond the sky in reference to Heaven? Did rue your sins really mean redeeming oneself?
And what did 'Light's eternal hall' refer to if not Heaven? Alastor scratched at the tattered paper, its words so faded as to be practically illegible. He momentarily cursed the riddled nature of poetry, despite his love for music.
He flipped again, to a third bookmark. It wasn't anything he recognized and he leaned close, seeing that it was a poem he had not yet seen. Charlie had marked it without mentioning it to him.
Bonded by the Soul!
Four halves that make a whole.
Fate shall shake you at the core,
And from the deepest depth you'll bore…
A balm to soothe the heart,
Your perfect counterpart.
No sacred vows, no Earthly writ
But even Lovers bow to it!
The inclusion of the poem puzzled Alastor, not immediately seeing its connection to the Mark or redemption in any sense. Maybe she had just liked it? He would have to question her about it later.
"Bonded by the Soul…" he spoke to himself again, trying to parse out some significance. "No sacred vows, no Earthly writ. But even Lovers bow to it?"
'A connection greater than Lovers? Four halves?' Alastor hadn't a clue, lacking the sentimentality required to derive real meaning from the script. If it had something to do with his current situation, he couldn't be sure.
He gave up after minutes of desperate deciphering and worked to examine the rest of the book for more obvious clues. He flipped to a random page, where an unusual poem caught his eye. Its style was different from others in meter and rhythm.
Despair!
Find Not!
It Knows! It Chose!
Take Heed! Begone!
'Til Yester's Dawn!
With Hopeless Need!
A Blackened Bleed!
And Plead and Plead and Plead,
It Judges without Creed.
"Well, that's not ominous," Alastor remarked, the flickering of his candle dancing shadows across the page.
He marked the page, at first glance seeming immediately related to the judgment of his soul and being "chosen." It read like a warning of some type, like the speaker is in a desperate struggle against some indifferent force. Maybe Charlie would have some brighter ideas, feeling uncharacteristically stumped, his mind elsewhere.
The dankness of the ancient library was finally getting to him and so the deer demon packed up his newfound collection, opting for further study in the comfort of his bedroom. Time will tell on the rest.
His shadow followed him out, as if its presence would offer him somewhat of a succor in the dark. Instead, Alastor felt like he was being followed by some shrouded nightmare, slightly perturbed by the thought.
…
As the sun set on another glorious day at the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie wandered down to the kitchens, realizing she hadn't eaten all day, so consumed she was in the day-to-day life of the hotel and its guests.
She peeked her head in and was surprised to see both Niffty and Husk in there. The cat demon was leaning over a bowl of what looked like noodles while Niffty was soapy with dishes.
Charlie pulled up a seat next to the demon, who glanced up at her presence and offered up his own version of an acknowledging grin.
"Hey Husk," she began. "Whatcha eating?" Charlie realized belatedly that she hadn't had much one on one conversation with the man, his presence still somewhat of an enigma to Charlie. One day they didn't have a bartender, and the next they did, chained in duty to his so-called "boss." Charlie had wanted to ask for more details at some point but she knew deep down that the reasons behind his deal were probably too painful for those involved to endure. And there was a part of her that felt if she knew, she might be tempted to do everything she could to break it, but that was also completely out of her control, much like Angel's deal with Valentino was. She knew what deals were but there was still so much in the minutiae of them that she didn't understand. To try and tackle it would be a fool's errand. Even more foolish than trying to redeem sinners into Heaven. One thing at a time, she thought.
"Ramen," he mumbled between bites. "Niffty fixed it up for me."
"From my hometown!" she chirped from her spot over the sink.
"It looks delicious," Charlie took a big whiff of the savory broth. That reminded her, there was also a lot she didn't know about Niffty either. She sure had a lot of blindspots when it came to those in her employ. Charlie suddenly felt like kind of a bad friend. Her focus was so much on her dream and redeeming sinners that she had forgotten some of those making her very dream come true.
"Would you like some?" the bug demon asked.
"Absolutely!" Charlie called, momentarily lost in her thoughts. "Thank you," she beamed an expression of deep gratitude, a thank you encompassing more than just the food. She was so grateful for their help, and she wouldn't even have them around if it weren't for…
"Have you seen Alastor, by the way?" the blonde hotelier asked, her thoughts drifting once more.
Husk choked a bit on his food, spluttering. "Not since he left earlier," he coughed out, recalling the farewell in which the deer demon had left her with. Far too intimate for neighboring eyes to witness.
Charlie read his mind and immediately turned red. She should've kept her mouth shut. "Oh, right…" she murmured.
Niffty deposited a bowl of steaming broth in front of her. It warmed her skin and Charlie felt soothed by the thought of enjoying a bit of Niffty's history, much like she enjoyed Alastor's jambalaya. Pieces of their human life.
"What's with you two, anyway?" Husk suddenly asked, finishing his dinner and pushing it aside.
"Me and Al?"
"Yeah, I know the boss likes to fuck with people, but these days I can't tell what he's actually doing. And it freaks me out a bit." Husk didn't look too concerned, but his tone said otherwise.
"Umm," Charlie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She did not have an answer that would satisfy even her. "We're close…"
"Close is an understatement! If I didn't know better, I would say you two acted like secret lovers."
"No way!" Charlie exclaimed. He can't go around saying such things! "We're nothing like that. We have a unique… relationship."
"Unique, huh? Care to elaborate?" He urged.
The demoness hesitated, unsure how much to reveal or even how to describe it. "It's… complicated," she started. "We're business partners and friends, but we're also more than that. And he helps me out a lot in his own strange way and I'd like to think that I help him."
Husk grunted, unsatisfied.
Charlie continued, finding she actually had more to say. "He sees the world in his own way and I respect that. There's an understanding there– a comfort. And though we might differ in our attitudes towards a lot of things…I feel like we share some sort of…" she trailed off.
"Bond," ended Husk for her.
Charlie nodded.
"Bonded by the soul," said Niffty suddenly, appearing next to them at the table.
"Huh?" Charlie spluttered, caught totally off guard by the statement. She knew those words. She has thought of them herself. Even read them in a book…
"Bonded by the soul," Niffty repeated, uncharacteristically serious. She swept up their dishes in a second and disappeared back to the sink. She did not elaborate.
"What does it mean?" Charlie found herself asking, wanting answers to a question that has plagued her mind for some time now.
"It means you better watch yourself," supplied Husk. "Anything involving the soul isn't usually good news."
Husk would know that better than anyone. Charlie swallowed, disliking the ominous tone of his warning. Something as beautiful sounding as bonded by the soul couldn't all be bad could it?
But the cat demon read her mind and offered up a lopsided grin, his fur shifting his demeanor in a second. "But I wouldn't worry that blonde head of yours," he began. "The boss… Hell, I ain't never seen him take to anyone the way he takes to you. Maybe he's doing exactly what it looks like, no funny business involved."
"What does it look like?" Charlie asked, soothed by his words.
"Like he's falling in love," he said, only half joking.
…
Charlie tip-toed up the stairs, two warm bowls of ramen wrapped in her arms. She thought she'd bring one up to Vaggie, but when she went to check on her, the gray angel dismissed the food without a second glance, saying she wasn't hungry.
Shaking off the rejection, Charlie continued, higher up within the hotel. It was about time she looked for the deer demon, cradling a bowl of food for him as well. She figured he probably wouldn't have eaten all day if he hadn't shown his face since earlier.
At his bedroom door, she knocked, but no response came. Frowning at his absence, Charlie was about to turn away when a light tug came at her feet. She peered down and there was a small bobble-headed shadow minion. It struggled to hold its ragdoll head up and held a bit of parchment within its grasp. It offered it to her, wobbling on its tiny toes.
She received it, somewhat confused but grateful to the little creature. She patted it on the head in thanks, wondering if that was appropriate. Standing back up, she unfurled the note. It was simply written, in Alastor's curly archaic script, a handwriting style he opted for when he wasn't busy making fun of the hotel.
In the radio tower, my darling demon belle.
Yours,
Alastor
Charlie instantly blushed at his word choice. Why'd he have to be so old-school charming sometimes? It almost made her want to be angry with how easily he conjured up such verbiage without a hint of hesitation. If she were to try and act like him… well, she might just die of embarrassment.
She neatly folded the simple note back up and deposited it within her breast pocket for safe-keeping.
Husk's final words rang through her skull as she padded up the stairs to the radio tower. She fought with a determined gait to banish the thoughts from her mind, her brain playing on a constant loop the idea that the Radio Demon was someone capable of… towards her…
She didn't even want to think about it! It just didn't make sense, and frankly, it wasn't allowed, she thought childishly. The demoness attempted again to focus on the task at hand. There was no window for distraction, too much time already having passed between when she last saw the progress of his mark.
The door to the radio tower was ajar, as if waiting for her. And she heard the familiar twinkle of light jazz wafting from within. The sound comforted her and she peeked her head inside, wondering what the deer demon could possibly be up to.
His back was to her, tinkering with the carved up radio console. Claw marks marred the surface of the instrument, strips of metal curving away like flower petals. It was a wreck. Charlie would've marveled at what could have possibly happened to it, but she was positively distracted.
Alastor was shirtless. His freckled back in full display. Charlie realized mindlessly that she had never seen the Radio Demon's bare back before, only privy to the side with the mark on it, and even then, blackness had obscured most of her view.
The muscles in his back flexed as he bent over the machine, his shoulder blades moving and shifting up and down as he worked. They reminded her of wings. A slick layer of sweat sheened over his skin, emphasizing just how freckled and scarred his skin truly was, like a body that has witnessed too much sun, and too much bloodshed. Transfixed, her eyes trailed southward down his spine until they settled on the space right above the wave of his belt.
'Back dimples,' she thought agonizingly. The two indentations sent her mind into a tizzy. They were so darling, so unexpected, it felt wrong that a man like the Radio Demon would be blessed with such innocence.
But her fantasizing was interrupted when she finally caught sight of his arms. Blackened though they've always been, they were also trailed with something new. With a horrifying realization, Charlie saw that she was looking at the glimmering of the Mark. It had wound its way down his arms, having long expanded past his chest and shoulders. It curled down his forearms now, breaching the edge of his inner wrist.
With a sharp intake of breath, Charlie stumbled into the room, shocked at the development of the magnetic stain.
"Al…" she whispered, voiceless in her upset.
He turned around then, gracious arms wide open in greeting. He blinked at her captivated stare and looked down at himself. Noticing his unbecoming appearance, Alastor quickly conjured up a shirt and dressed, smiling as he did so.
Though he meant for an easygoing reunion, the demoness's expression told him otherwise. His smile shifted from teasing to tense.
"Ah, so you saw it. That saves us a difficult conversation!" he said while buttoning.
"Al," she repeated, stepping further into the room. "It's grown so much. Has nothing stopped it? Is nothing working?" her voice quavered.
"None of that, dear," he said firmly, trying to stop the waterworks before they began. "It is of my own doing, I'm sure of it."
"What makes you say that?" she asked.
His red eyes gleamed. "I've committed a few…acts of savagery since we last looked upon it. I wouldn't be surprised if my continued sinning was the cause. The Mark does not take kindly to brutality."
"You must stop!" she wailed, startling them both. "You'll die at this rate! What's left? Your back, legs, and head? There's barely any skin left!"
"I'm aware," said Alastor as calmly as he could muster, not wanting to work himself up while the demoness was already on the edge.
"Well, what are we doing about it?!" she said, flustered at his too calm response. Clearly taking notes on its progress was doing nothing, its movements too unpredictable and random.
Yes, he met up with Zestial and frequented the library. But what could he do besides that? Consult Heaven? Stop moving entirely? Out of the question.
"What we can," he replied, not actually having an answer.
Charlie spoke after a moment of quiet reflection. "You said you learned something new, can you tell me?"
"I can. Come, my dear." The deer demon came towards her then, sensing she had reigned herself in, and grabbed hold of her pale limp palm. He led her towards the window and sat her down on a cushioned seat.
Charlie remembered the parcel in her hand and offered it to her companion. "I thought you might be hungry," she mumbled, turning away, almost shy.
"I'm hungry for a lot of things," he said with a teasing lilt.
Though this time Charlie didn't take the bait, her frown increasing. "Quit messing with me, Al." She couldn't handle his flirtatious remarks right now, especially if they were just jokes at her expense. What she wouldn't do for something genuine right now. A peek behind that curtain.
Alastor practically wanted to frown himself, unsure of her sour reaction. "I apologize, my dear," his voice was sincere. "Thank you for thinking of me," he said instead.
Charlie's face lifted a bit, sensing his earnestness. She didn't mean to be so sour, she just wished his teasing was…real, sometimes. The thought gave her pause and she fought the blush that threatened to bloom. Her emotions were a nightmare right now, she thought wearily.
"I'm sorry, I'm just scared," she said as he dived into his meal. It was still warm, the broth bringing with it a much needed peace.
Her fear at his loss still confounded the demon but he tried not to let it show.
"I understand, but at this time I need your bravery. And of course…" he grinned at her. "Your smile."
"Yeah, yeah," she waved her hand, smiling in return now. "I've heard it all before!"
While he ate, Charlie watched his twisting wrist, a sliver of skin poking through. She gripped his hand suddenly, her fingers so close to the shaking Mark of his skin. She had the strangest urge to reach out and touch it, curious as to what would happen. She voiced her thoughts.
"Your dearest dad advised against touching it. We don't know what could happen. What if you were to become infected?"
"But I'm a Hellborn… I can't be judged of sin." Charlie's mind wandered with a new upsetting thought. The thought of never being able to touch Alastor again. She would refuse on principle.
"Either way, I don't think it wise. Especially based on what I've learned."
Alastor dived into his tale then. His visit with Zestial and the story he learned about the Marked Angel and his descent into Hell. He described the Supernal Sea and its possible connection as well as his recent trip to the library.
Charlie merely nodded, absorbing the information as best as she could, trying her damndest to piece together any thread of relevance or helpful knowledge she might have hidden in the depths of her Hell years. Not much popped up but the newfound discoveries were more than she could imagine.
"An angel being judged? What could they possibly be judged for?" she asked after he finished his lengthy explanation.
"The black eyes see all," said Alastor cryptically. "Perhaps the angel had yet hidden sins within its soul? Even you are familiar with angels who most certainly belong in Hell."
Charlie nodded, his reasoning made some sense. But she still wasn't sure what to do with that info. She thought more about the Supernal Sea, never having heard of it before.
"What was it called again? You said it had more than one name."
"The Mare Amoria. Or the Memoria Amoris."
"The Sea of Love…" murmured Charlie, a memory popping in her mind at the name.
"Hmm?" said Alastor.
"I know of a childhood tale that has a Sea of Love in it."
"How does it go?"
Charlie related what she could of the story from memory. It had been a while since she thought of it, but it was a common enough story for the Hellish youth. She recalled it far better than she thought she ought to.
'Once upon a time there was a bird knight who longed to win the heart of the princess. But she lived at the bottom of the sea and he could hardly swim. He pleaded with the old frog wizard, "Please give me the power to swim, grant me gills, grant me fins so that I may meet the princess of the sea!"
The sage wizard closed his eyes, hummed, and cast a spell. But nothing about the knight changed. "I am the same, old wizard!"
The frog just hummed, "You have the power already, do not change yourself so hastily for another. Do you know if she loves you in return? If your love is so strong, you will swim to her with no issue."
"I shall prove my love for her, you wizened old fool!" said the knight. "I shall swim to the depths and ask for her hand!"
The bird knight sped off towards the sea, with love in his heart for the princess and a determination in his soul. But the sea was rough with waves and salty with brine. Other creatures accosted him and the bird knight cried out for help between gulps of water. "Help me dearest princess, lest I perish below the waves! Grant me your grace and save a poor helpless fool as I!"
But no help did come. The princess did not love the bird knight, and the love in his heart was not strong enough to stay the waves of the turbulent sea. For he had loved just a figment of the princess. The calm beauty of her shores.
As the bird knight drowned, there upon the sea floor did the princess grant him mercy. "To Heaven," she said. "To fly with the angels."
The bird knight sang of his sorrow, his foolish idolatry for a sea that did not love him. And there in the dark of the sea, the princess remained, waiting for one who shall truly reach her heart.'
When she had finished regaling him with it, he pondered the curious tale and its message for a moment.
"What would you say is the moral of this story?" Alastor asked, when it didn't immediately come to him, somewhat wary of the actual answer. Maybe he didn't want to think of it, because he suspected what was coming.
When Charlie spoke it was with a quiet seriousness. "Love and be loved…" she paused, looking out the window over the glowing city of Hell, "...Or perish."
...
AN: Hehe, more poems and even a fairytale this time cuz CAN! As always thank you to everyone who comments, I appreciate it so much and I am so glad people are enjoying this story!
And just in case anyone was wondering: No, Bonded by the soul is NOT Soulmates. I'll get into this more by the next chapters lol. Stay tuned!