Chapter 1

Demons and Monsters

Have men in them

But Monsters

Have stone men

The Thing was monstrous, rising above their heads like a mountain, holding as much power as a storm in either hand. It swung, and the world was set ablaze.

"Do you repent for your sins?" A pope, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, set his eyes on the Thing who kneeled below him. He offered forgiveness to all who came-for a price. He almost, almost pitied the Thing. It was young, after all, and it was cursed with powers that they could not control. They could not really blame the Thing, but the people of Reim wanted revenge of some sort.

The Thing quivered, and it was so small that Pope Xanthos almost wondered how it was responsible for the massacre of a village two hundred people strong. It looked so weak, so fragile, that he could not imagine the horror even though the tale had been recounted to him numerous times by the few survivors there were. But if the story was true, he had to wonder why Lady Scherazade demanded that he offer the Thing a chance at forgiveness. If the Thing was so frightful, then even he believed that there should be no second chance. If there could be no second chance for the two hundred people dead, then there should not be any second chance for the Thing.

It took a while, but it stuttered out, "I- I-" The Thing could not bring itself to say that it repented. But if it did not repent, it would have no chance. The Thing might have been a monster, but the Thing was also a child. If it did not repent, it would be sent to the colosseum, and it would have no chance, not against the animals that killed thousands, not against the brute force that it could never hope to summon up.

Xanthos felt a surge of pity for the Thing. But a job was a job, and the Thing would not repent. "You are hereby sentenced to the colosseum, in which the only way to end the sentence is to finish ten years of battling, or," he paused, thought of the gleeful faces he had seen, how joyful they were when they were bathed in blood. It was cruel to sentence the Thing to a fate like that, because the ones in the colosseum were more bloodthirsty, more experienced. "Death. Whichever one comes first shall mark the end of your trials of repentance."

Closing it's eyes, the Thing closed in on itself, huddling into an even smaller ball and wrapping the burnt fabric around itself. He waved his hands and four guards came in, with one magician for extra safety. Only when they lifted the Thing up did his heart stop feeling any pity for it. The eyes of the Thing were dry; no tears, not even the slightest traces of red were there. There was no frown, no knot between the eyebrows. This time, it spoke. "It's not my fault," it said, so softly it could barely be heard.

It was swept away before he got an opportunity to answer.

Pope Xanthos slumped down in a golden chair, clutching a red jewel in his hands. "My lady," he said when the humming began. "The Thing did not repent for it's sins. It is being sent over to the colosseum right now." He ran a hand through his hair before leaning the same arm on his leg.

There was complete and utter silence coming from the other side, and for a moment, Xanthos wondered if his connection was not going through. "Xanthos, the Thing does have a name." Her voice was light and airy, but full of force. There was a sharp intake of breath. "But if you do not wish to call it by name, I will oblige you." There was another pause, during with Xanthos shifted around again. "I am not surprised that it did not repent. That was an event that I expected. Was there anything out of the ordinary?"

"The Thing did not show any pity, and it said that it was not their fault." Xanthos could not call it by any other name than the Thing because he could not see it being the devil, but it certainly was not a human.

"It showed no pity, did it?" On the other side of the communication crystal, Scheherazade closed her eyes. She saw the creature that Xanthos had named the Thing; saw its power, saw its anger. Perhaps it truly wasn't its fault, and that was why she had demanded for it to have a second chance and repent. Either way, whether it ended up working for her through the colosseum or the church, having the Thing in her employ would undoubtedly be useful. She would not be able to make it stay forever, but for whatever time it was here, on this planet, her power would be used. Reim might as well be the one to use it.

"It did not show any pity," he confirmed. Those eyes, so dark he had almost mistaken them for black, were merciless and unwavering in their conviction.

The sigh from her side was audible, and Xanthos nearly jumped in surprise. The High Priestess did not do actions like those lightly, and for her to sigh so loudly it could be heard over the communicator… "Thank you Xanthos, for cooperating with me. Still, don't think so badly of the Thing. It massacred many, yes, but Reim has killed many more. So maybe, one day, you could forgive it, and say its name so the world could hear." Her voice was tired, so tired, and it was filled with pain. To speak like this to a subordinate was unspeakable, but she could not stop it. It was a bit of an irony, really, and she felt the urge to voice it. "After all, its name is one of the very things you worship."

"Perhaps one day, Lady Scheherazade. It has been a pleasure working with you." The buzzing that he felt through his very veins stopped, and he set the ruby crystal down.

The next day, an assassin from Al Thamen dealt him a fatal blow, the only evidence that it was them a broken doll. When a person finally stumbled upon his body, he was in the midst of taking his last breaths. His palms faced upwards and his eyes were cast towards the golden ceiling. "Eden," the person heard him whisper. He died with the Thing's name on his lips, and he spoke no more.

"Would you look at that," a burly man crowed, puffing his scarred chest out. His nose had obviously been broken a few times, one of his eyes was still blackened, and he was missing a total of six teeth that could be seen. "They've put a little'un in our midst. Wonder what we're supposed to do wit' it."

Cruel eyes gleamed with malicious intent. One spoke up: "Well, seeing as they've put a little girl in our midst, I'm sure that they're tryin' to cater to our needs as men. None of us have been able to get some for quite some time, eh?" He laughed along with dozens of others in the room. Really, the idea that members of the colosseum, the criminals, murderers, and rapists that they were, were allowed in the same room for large periods of time was a horrible idea.

They pulled their circle in tighter and tighter, until their bodily odors was the only thing that the little girl could smell. It was rancid, but she did not grimace. Smelling the burning bodies of a village did that to a person, not to mention that feces and urine was also a smell that hung in the air before the fire consumed them. She was not scared, per se, but she was no longer knew herself, no longer knew what she was capable of, and did not know whether to try and stand her ground or run.

She grimaced. The last time she stood her ground, a village burnt to the ground, and no matter how horrible these people were, they couldn't really deserve it.

But they do, whispered a little voice in her head. And all you have to do to get rid of them is let me help. You know that they're bad people, you know that the only people who end up here are people who have killed and plundered in the worst circumstances. You'll be doing the world a favor.

Her body stilled completely. She refused to let the voice sweet-talk her into doing anything, not ever again. The voice's power was great, but the damage… and she had no control. She would not let that happen again. So instead, she ran. She ducked and weaved between the tiny crevices that separated their bodies. She got caught twice, but wriggled out of their grasp. As soon as a hand touched her, they pulled away like they were burned. She made it all the way to the single guard that watched them, and looked up at him with hope.

His face contorted and he pushed her away with the broad side of his sword, back into the crowd. "This is initiation," he spat. "Just because you're a girl, don't think that you're going to be getting any kind of special treatment."

The hands came and pulled her back into the sea of smelly bodies. Every inch of her body was touched and prodded, some laughing at her discomfort, none of them shying away. "Missy, you've got no fight. You're not gonna last a day out in the arena, so you might as well let us have our fun with you now. Who knows, maybe if you're good enough to us, we'll protect you."

She shivered, but refused to cry. The first and only lesson that she learned from her mother was that wolves could smell fear, and that tears did nothing to help your situation. It was true; tears were an illogical response, and the energy expended doing a useless acton could instead be used to contemplate and concentrate on a way out of it. Yes, at the tender age of eleven, she had learned a lot of harsh lessons about how cruel the world was, and for the next ten years, she would learn even more.

After half an hour, she thanked every god that she knew of that they did not go any farther than touching her. Some had attempted, but there was always another hand that took its place before that could happen. After that half hour, the guard finally came in to stop them, and put her in a single cell, far away from anybody else's.

The torchlight was dim, but even then she could see the black ink that branded her skin. A tingle went through her body, and she thought of the man who asked her to repent yesterday. When the light flickered, her memory of him dimmed, and she was left with the horrible feeling that he was no longer around.

She did not need to look below the block letters that spelled her name to recite one of the lines needled in below it, but she glanced at it anyways. "Sic itur ad astra," she said, brushing her fingertips over the cursive, feeling her skin burn as she dragged her hand over each letter.

Her small body fit in the corner perfectly. "Thus, you shall go to the stars," she repeated. Another star appeared in the sky that night, and years later, an astronomer would name it Xanthos.

*Wonders if the author will ever finish a story* who knows. I get sidetracked super easily, so unless someone keeps a thread going with me on the one they really like, progress prob will not be made.

BTW(maybe I should have put this at beginning) this story might end up having triggers for some people. Rape, molestation, murder, death, and gore will consistently be a part of the story.

If you've got any questions, shoot them over on a review or PM and I'll try to get back to you.

Reviews, favorites, and follows always make a (horrible finals day) better! Please brighten up my day so I don't feel so sucky right now!