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The doors of the Dark Lord’s personal audience chamber opened with a dismal groan.
“His Disgrace, Hastur, Duke of Hell, and His Disgrace, Ligur, Cursèd, Stolen from Death, Succoured by the Great Beast, Duke of Hell!”
Satan’s secretary bellowed our names in a nails-on-slate voice. I don’t know who they were expecting to care, since the Lord Himself had summoned us and didn’t need to be informed of our arrival.
“Ugh,” muttered Ligur as we entered the dim cavern. “Why do we always have to make such a big do of it? On my bloody title, even. It's embarrassing is what it is.”
“Don't complain,” I chided. “We should all be so lucky.”
My tone was mild, but inside I shuddered. Daily I made offerings to the Great Beast1 in thanks for the mercy and generosity He had shown. I was scrupulous to hide this from Ligur. I would not have my demon think me soft; I doubt I would survive, should Ligur ever leave me now. But I would never cease my grateful ritual.
The shadowy audience hall, large enough to hold five legions of demons, was empty but for us, our Master’s throne sitting unoccupied on its dais. Ligur and I stood before it to wait on the Master’s pleasure. His mysteriously created enforcer-pets, the hatefully delightful Gargoyles, watched us with baleful glares.
Our Lord Himself appeared in a burst of sulfurous flame, seated regally on His throne.
I trembled in the presence of our Master, and felt Ligur’s equal devotion at my side. We shouted, “Hail Satan!”, bowing low before Him, and waited for His pronouncement.
“Thank you for attending, my obedient servants,” He purred, dark and seductive, making me shiver in an ecstasy of worship. As though either of us could ever think to refuse Him. One of His Gargoyles swooped to His shoulder, and He reached up to snap one of the delicate wing bones, making it shrill in pleasure.
Our Lord said, “I have a boon for you, my favored.” My withered heart leapt in my chest.
“You are to be given a planet all your own! She claims Earth, and all Garden worlds She consigns likewise to Her pitiful limitations; but there are worlds aplenty, yes, beyond Gardens, and to you, my finest of cold blood, I bestow one such, to have dominion over, and any who may dwell thereupon!”
There was no time for questions, for as soon as we had prostrated ourselves in genuine, if confused, thanks, Satan waved a dismissive hand, said “Bugger off, then,” and vanished in a cloud of reeking vapor.
Ligur and I stumbled out together in mutual awe, coordinates flashing in our minds like an unholy beacon.
“I suppose we ought to pay a visit,” I said.
“Seems like,” Ligur agreed. “Best get on.”
Our new demesne was far from a garden. But neither was it Hers, and we could have it for our own.
There, freed from our usual duties, my sweet, rotten Duke and I embraced; the stinking atmosphere flowed through us as we came together. We joined as sinners do, wild with desire and oneness. When we abandoned our human-shaped forms to pay tribute to the gifts of our Lord, I felt embers of creation kindling, while Ligur’s skin turned golden with agonised joy. Something deep within me shifted, was taken, and I relished the pain in ecstasy, as we screamed with one voice.
Ligur’s sticky, clever tongue played over my slimy skin as we settled, basking in the aftermath of our blasphemous offerings. We’d stay here awhile, and make the most of our bequest.
I don’t think I created anything, Before. I doubt Ligur did, either.
Looks like that’s to change, now.
When Ligur’s panoramic eyes spotted movement—twitching, writhing, disjointed, wondrous—and we were not alone, my heart swelled and burst with hatred. I drew his trembling, elated body to me with my re-formed arms, saying,
“Look what we have been given—of ourselves, my detested.”