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Abaddon has never felt peaceful. A silent storm rages inside of his frail body, the rage of a demon caged like a circus lion. Caged to be laughed at. Helpless and frightened, being prodded through the bars.
However, he is helpless no more. Though his body remains small, his power is mighty. He can move mountains with his fingers and make it rain fire and ash. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of.
So why is he still here?
Lava pools through the scorched floorboards of the now decimated hotel. The fire climbs its wooden banisters like a cobra, devouring everything in its wake. The paintings, the furniture, the parlor, Esther’s bedroom,
And Abaddon.
He sits on Esther’s bed, its sheets torn and scorched by fire and embers. He fiddles with her quilt with his hands, like a child in confession for the first time, unsure of what to say.
“Hello, Esther.”
Abaddon tries to keep his voice steady, but his lip is quivering.
He goes over the stitches with his fingers over and over again, trying to compose himself.
“I understand you are not here anymore.”
The lava is rising. It first takes the floor, then the bed frame. Her closet crackles with embers as it topples over, sending sparks into the rest of the room. Abaddon frantically clings onto his quilt and lifts it up, trying to save its scorched edges from the fire.
“I could not save you. I could not save any of you.”
The lava keeps rising. Abaddon floats to save his quilt.
“But-“ he hesitates, feeling a sudden ache in his chest, “I’d rather live alone than live a lie. This power flowing through my veins, it is who I am; it is who I was always meant to be!”
The bed has been fully overtaken by lava. Its mattress that once housed sleepovers and pillow wars was now nothing but dust. The sound of the crackling fire drowns out his heavy breathing as he floats higher. He can feel her presence slipping away.
“I was never meant to be trapped in this-this vessel. Powerless and vulnerable, cursed to walk this world as a joke.”
Abaddon watches as the lava swallows more of Esther’s room. His chest rises and falls faster and faster. A drawing of the two together digging a grave falls off the crumbling walls. Abaddon tries to catch it midair in a panic, but it slips through his fingers and falls into the fire.
"I can-“ he stifles a sob and watches the picture of Esther slowly disintegrate, he whispers, “I cannot give my life up for a blip.”
He says it almost as if he’s still trying to convince himself. The air tastes of ashes and soot; there’s almost nothing of her left. He reaches the ceiling, its structure collapsing the second he touches it, sending more fuel into the fire.
Tears start cascading down Abaddon's face, falling uncontrollably like rain off the side of an awning. There’s nothing left in the room but Abaddon. She’s gone.
“Goodbye, Esther.”
Flying out of the crumbling hotel, her words keep repeating in Abaddon's head. He clutches his skull and yells, trying to force her voice out, but he cannot stop hearing her last words on loop, haunting him:
“If any part of you cares about me as much as I care about you, you’ll fix this.”
Abaddon screams like a wounded dog and flings a boulder at what’s left of the forest in a blind rage. His eyes sting from tears. He’s lost people before; he's lost thousands. So why does he feel this way? Why can’t he stop crying?
He had tried again and again to save them. He had watched his only family die in front of him hundreds of times, and every time he failed, he had to go back.
He can’t calm down. His breathing quickens. He’s losing control of himself.
Why did he care about them so much? Why did he go through thousands of years of agony for them? He knew he had to choose: friendship or glory.
But he’s a demon. He’s not meant to be anyone’s friend, or brother, or son. He’s meant to be feared. Feared by the powerless mortals that he had tried so hard to save.
Abaddon flies down to their resting place. The gangly tree that saw the deaths of his family. He curls into a fetal position at its base, sobbing into the quilt like a child.
He got what he wanted. He’s finally the prince of the dark realm once again. His destiny has finally been fulfilled.
No. No, he chose this. He chose to leave them behind, to leave her to die. He chose to stay powerful even when he knew the cost. Even if he went back now, he knew he would choose glory again.
Because he doesn’t deserve anything else. He doesn’t deserve family. He deserves this.
This is his punishment. His hell.
Gathering himself, he slowly stands up and gazes at the red sky. He wipes his tears with his bloody sleeve and gazes at his new realm. His new life. His new fate. His eyes are dull and lifeless.
“I will never deserve peace.”