Prideful

Birth

The ground is dusty and it clogs my small opening that is called a nose, allowing me to draw in the bitter air. I sputter and gasp, writhing pathetically. The mother bends over, sniffs me uncertainty then reaches out a huge taloned hand, cuts gently through the thick stones and sand that have been preventing me from breathing. Satisfied as my breathing returns to a steady rhythm she draws back. Observing the other hatchlings. They are each as pathetic as me, white maggots in a field of the dead. I writhe my body in an attempt to move forwards, towards the mother, maybe she can help me through this stage. Maybe- My thoughts are cut off as I am cuffed on my small snout. I gargle in surprise. 'Don't move...' she growls, 'The Priest must bless the herd first, or you risk the taint.' I stay stock-still after that, not risking any movement. I don't know how long I stayed like that, hours, days, weeks, maybe centuries. Then a sharp sound brought my flickering attention to a spot in the sky where a huge winged beast was easily gliding through the thick air. As it got closer I could more clearly make out it's features, it's eyes were dull and glassy, concealing a brilliant green. It's long snout undoubtedly hiding razor sharp teeth. It's scales were black and red-flecked. Wings huge in comparison to its body, which was massive in its own right. So this is a Priest, I thought. Magnificent. It touched lightly on the rocky ground. I had barely noticed the frail man in a drab brown robe with the hood pulled up until he dismounted the great beast. He tottered slowly towards us, using a cane to help support his weak body that was probably staining to hold up the light cloak he was wearing. The beast kept its eyes averted from the man, curious. Why would a Priest be afraid of a human, more importantly why was a human here? Some kind of sacrifice perhaps, to truly bless us. But the mothers and beast made no move to open him from stomach to throat. Strange. The old man got closer, so I could see his face was wrapped in the shadows under his hood. His cane was plain and wooden. I was dumbfounded until a mother stepped forwards, bowed. I almost screamed, mothers bowed to no one, especially not a pathetic human. The man chortled, 'That's quite alright thank you.' The mother stepped back, face blank and eyes glazed.
'Priest-' A mother started. Priest? I thought, this was impossible, a human couldn't be a Priest. I snarled quietly, sure this was a trap of some sort. '- we have a good herd this century, I can smell the hatred of humans on them.' The mother finished.
'Yes...' the Priest mused, then without another word picked up one of my brethren, then snapped his neck. Another mother gasped, he had been hers. 'He was weak, I could sense it.' His only explanation was. Then he picked up another brother, repeated the process without the neck-snapping. He went around like this, making occasional comments such as; 'Good' or 'He will make our Lord proud.' Until he reached me. He stiffened visibly and almost tentatively picked me up. Now that I was closer to him I could smell his breath, which stank of sulphur and blood. He took a long sniff and then laughed heartily. 'What is your name young one?' He asked. I tried to gurgle something, I could tell he frowned momentarily, he reached out a spindly finger which was tipped with a long nail and tapped my throat. Suddenly my vocal cords aged and I could form words. 'I...don't...know...' I gasped. Unused to speaking. 'Oh yes, I forgot, Demons are named after they become Astri aren't they?' He murmured. 'Well young one I smell something special on you so I gift you with a name.'
The mothers gasped aloud at this, one stepped forward and tapped the Priest on the shoulder. The Priest snapped his head around to look at her, even with the hood up, I bet the Mother could feel his glare. 'What.' He said. Anger lining his words.
'It's unheard of to name a youngling... against all our traditions' she stuttered, probably regretting her decision to step forward. Suddenly everything blurred for a second, then returned to normal. My eyes refocused and took in the sights. The Mother lay dead on the ground, throat ripped out. A steady flow of blood dropped from the wound. The Priest was still, apparently having moved incredibly fast, the only indication he had been the murderer was his right hand, dripping bright red blood. 'Anyone else have a problem with my... methods?' He croaked. There was silence. Then he focused his attention back to me. 'I name you... Belial. For that is what you will feel and inflict for the next thousand years.'
Belial? It was only in the future that I realised how apt that name became.