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“Do you… want to become a demon, Iruma?”
Iruma had been shocked to hear Sullivan ask the question, at first. He’d laughed, unsure how else to respond. “I’m a human, grandpa, I don’t think that can be changed.”
“Well, no, not physically. Not beyond what you can do with your magic.”
Iruma nodded, unsurprised.
“However…”
How Sullivan could be aware such a ritual once existed was beyond Iruma, but at some point, in the man’s hundreds of years, a precedent had been set. A human, desiring full integration with demonic society, could undergo an ancient ritual to cast off their humanity and designate themselves a true demon.
I can do that? Iruma found himself thinking, day after day. I can become one of them?
In time, it became clear: this was what he wanted, and he wanted it fervently.
With his grandpa and Opera, Iruma travelled to a demonic holy site of sorts; a waterfall created by and named in honor of the former king, Delkira.
“The ritual will make you feel vulnerable,” Sullivan told him on the way. “While it’s in no way painful, it does involve relinquishing yourself into the care of your loved ones.”
He was warned that parts of the ritual would entail him being bathed, and subsequently clothed and touched, although at no point would he be mishandled or deprived of his dignity. Was he comfortable with this?
“Yes,” said Iruma, undaunted.
And now, barefoot and dressed in a white ceremonial frock, Iruma waited. He did not know what to expect, and he had no instructions aside from “stay silent,” and “follow any directions.” This lingering was the first part; a time of quiet, and of lonely self-reflection, while the rest of the ritual was prepared.
The shadowy room was windowless, and he had no way of knowing how long he spent there; only that he grew hungry, and was impatient to move along. Restlessly he bided his time, wondering how much daylight had been spent, itching to know what awaited him. Although some degree of nervousness was present in Iruma, he was adamant to see this ritual through. Finally, a knock came at the door. He welcomed the demon in. He was glad to have been summoned.
The individual said nothing. They cut an imposing figure, dressed in black, flowing robes the likes of which hid their body, head to toe. A veil obscured their face, completing the enigmatic appearance. They motioned with a gloved hand for Iruma to follow; this he did, and he was led down a long, winding stairway, seemingly hewn directly from the stone around them.
Iruma emerged, unspeaking, to the dark waters behind the great Delkira waterfall. The next step, it seemed, was the purifying bath. The waterfall itself beat a great, roaring rhythm upon the rocks outside, hypnotic in its ceaselessness. The cavern around Iruma was illuminated only by flickering candlelight. No light came in from outdoors; night had fallen and its darkness was deep.
It was in this place that Iruma was blindfolded; from here, he would not move on his own, but would be guided through the ritual by those in his confidence. His gown was plucked gently from his shoulders by someone, leaving him wearing little, feeling exposed. The figure came to Iruma’s side; putting an arm around him, they descended with Iruma into the cool, natural basin in the center of the cavern. Scented herbs floated in the water around the boy, filling the small space with a clean, earthy smell. One by one, Iruma’s limbs and torso were carefully scrubbed clean by the unknown attendant.
His hair was washed last. For this, he was gently guided out of the cold pool and shampooed; warm water was brought in, and bucket after bucket was poured over his head, over his body. The heat restored feeling to his cold extremities; he felt revived by it. The human boy was quickly swaddled in a thick robe, preserving the hot water’s warmth against his skin. A tap on each foot told him to lift them in succession, and he did, and was fitted with a pair of soft, open shoes.
Hands found both of Iruma’s palms then, and with an attendant on each side, he was navigated to another room. It smelled of smoke, and the occasional pop of pitch catching flame told Iruma a fire was burning nearby. Here he was lowered gently to sit upon a bench, and presently, he heard someone new appear before him, followed by the sound of something opening. Soon he was being touched, and warm, sweet oils were pressed to his skin, one at a time. His forehead, his shoulders. Each hand. The front of his chest. Each foot. The figure retreated momentarily.
A scraping sound; something being drawn out of the fire. Grating, crushing, the muted tone of ceramic. The clink of glass against glass, stirring. Again the demon was in front of Iruma, and now, a set of fingers alighted on the side of the human child’s head, smelling of smoke and oil. The digits drew back and came down again, in symmetry with the previous spot. Horns.
The demon moved behind him, then, and the top half of Iruma’s warm robe was withdrawn. The same fingers found his spine, just at the base of his neck. In one, smooth line, the mixture of ash and oil was applied here, tracing down to a point just below his shoulder blades. Wing roots.
Muffled footsteps told of the individual’s retreat. When two more demons entered to fetch Iruma, the boy’s arms were lifted, right then left, and he felt himself being swathed in a new piece of clothing. It was lighter and left his upper back bare, but with the fire keeping the room cozy, he didn’t mind. The shift settled down around his body as he was brought to a stand, and the heavier robe came off.
Blindly Iruma was escorted one last time, taken at each elbow by those attending him. They directed him wordlessly to stand in place, then let go of Iruma, moving away.
A presence materialized behind the boy; a pair of hands clamped down on his shoulders. From above Iruma’s head came the solemn sound of Kalego’s voice.
“You have been called to this venerated place to witness the rebirth of this child as he willingly becomes a denizen of hell. As his closest companions in the netherworld, your roles as his guardians and allies are not responsibilities to be taken lightly. The demons in this room may be asked, in the course of living, to risk great pain for his sake; some of you may risk your lives. Should any one of you believe such responsibilities to be too great a burden to bear, you may choose to depart now without consequences.”
A reverential quiet descended. Not one movement was heard.
The veil fell from Iruma’s eyes, and his first vision was of six demons: his adopted family, Sullivan and Opera; his new friends, Clara and Azz; and his teachers Balam and Kalego, the latter of which was to Iruma’s right, folding the blindfold neatly and setting it on top of an altar nearby. The altar was decorated simply, overlaid with a black and gold patterned cloth, bearing lit candles and a few disparate items.
Iruma discovered that he and Kalego stood on a slightly raised stage. The other five demons sat cross-legged on the floor as an audience before them. Each one of them wore the same dark outfits, although all their hoods were pulled back, revealing the demons’ faces. Iruma looked at himself. His raiment was simple; a long, airy, silky gown, black as a moonless night.
Next to Iruma, Kalego lifted a wicked-looking knife off the altar.
“Blood; the first gift to the new demon child.”
Sullivan and Opera stepped forward. Kalego laid the blade across his palms, presenting it to Sullivan. The older demon took it silently.
“Kneel,” Kalego whispered to Iruma. The boy obeyed, bending his head forward.
Sullivan drew the knife along the pad of his finger; a single drop of blood appeared, leaving a shining trace along the knife’s curved edge. He extended his arm down gently, touching the wounded fingertip to the midpoint of Iruma’s scalp. Opera soon followed suit, contributing a drop of their own blood, confirming their acceptance of Iruma into the family. Kalego grasped Iruma’s arm, raising him to stand once more.
Kalego then took the goblet from the altar.
“Milk; the first meal of the new demon child.” Kalego raised the golden goblet in both hands, displaying it to those gathered in the dark lit room. He passed it to Iruma, who tipped the goblet back, drinking hungrily. The drink was bland and foamy; a humble source of nutrition, but a relief nonetheless to his empty stomach. Drained, the cup was returned to its place.
“Desire,” Kalego said, moving once more to the altar. When he faced the audience again, he bore a basket in his palms.
“It is the spark of new life, animating even the lowliest creatures among demonkind. Today we will pass on our desires to Iruma, and in this way, animate him as one of us. You may now rise.”
The onlookers got to their feet. Kalego went forward, distributing the contents of the basket among them: a set of long red ribbons, one for every demon present. Last, the man took one for himself, then motioned for Iruma to come down among them.
“It’s time,” he said.
They formed a circle, and Kalego planted Iruma at the center of the demons.
“Close your eyes,” he told the boy. And then, the man began to hum.
The sound was gentle and low. It was a melody Iruma had never heard before, but it felt familiar nonetheless, and brought ease to his heart. Kalego sang through it once; and then, beginning again, other voices picked up the melody, and the sound swelled with each addition. It grew around Iruma, naturally rising and falling with the passions in the room, resonant and haunting, and breaking at times with emotion.
Gingerly, a pair of arms found Iruma’s sides. With the song still rolling around him, Iruma was caught in the warm embrace of one of his loved ones, and a whisper unraveled in his ear. “I could not imagine my life without you,” the voice said, hushed and full of affection. “You belong here, as much as any other demon. Or even more.”
Iruma felt Azz pass a ribbon around his waist, and then sensed him tie it off near his side before returning to his embrace. “My desire is, that you will only grow more confident in your strength.”
Azz stepped back, becoming a part of the floating melody once more.
A sudden grasp around his middle caught Iruma by surprise, then. “Iruma-chi!” Clara said, nuzzling happily into his back.
“You’re the greatest soulmate a demon could have! ...No offense to Azz-Azz, since I’m sure he agrees with me,” she said, laughing joyfully. “Without you, the love trio wouldn’t exist! We’d be… we’d be the love nothing! So sad--imagine that!”
A second ribbon found its way around Iruma. “Iruma-chi,” Clara said, leaning lovingly against him, “My desire is, that you have fun every day! Don’t ever become too serious to play!”
She squeezed him one more time, then retreated into the song.
One by one, the demons told him their desires; one by one, they tied the ribbons around his waist.
“My desire is, you devote yourself to those you love.”
“You remember how precious your life is.”
“You know yourself and nurture your talents.”
The final demon to come to him was his grandfather, who leaned down to hold him.
“My grandson,” he said, audibly tearful, “The day I brought you here from the human world, I could never have known how special you’d become to me. Since then, you’ve made me more proud than any other demon in hell.”
Sullivan’s long arms delicately wrapped a ribbon around Iruma’s waist. “I have no doubt my desire will come true,” he said, hugging his grandson tightly.
“After all, my desire is this: that you become the best demon you can be!”
He lingered with Iruma a while longer, saying nothing, letting Iruma weep into his sleeves. Until finally Sullivan, too, slipped back into the group’s unbroken hum.
Gradually, Kalego sung more quietly; in time the room descended into silence.
When Iruma was prompted to open his eyes again, he was amidst his beloved demons. Red ribbons encircled the center of his body. Each gleaming ribbon led back to the hands of someone Iruma cherished, joining the demons to him as if by six crimson arteries.
Kalego took up the ritual again; now he spoke more softly.
“Iruma. You have received the blood of your family; you have been nourished as a child; you have been endowed with our desires. Now tell us: are you ready to be reborn as a demon of the netherworld?”
Iruma’s voice felt tiny. “I am,” he said.
“Then let these ribbons be cut,” said Kalego, “And we shall welcome you as one of us.”
The man lifted a hand, and in one, clean motion, the center of every ribbon lifted concurrently into the air, each one severing dramatically into two parts at its apex.
“Although these ties binding us to you have been sundered, our bonds will remain unbroken. You are now a child of this world. Welcome to your new life as a demon, Iruma.”
The new demon was bowled over as his loved ones piled against him.