Edwin soared through the dark sky, silent and focused. His thoughts raced.
Azael's speed… he's already there.
Then a voice inside his mind.
"Young Prince, where is your location?"
Edwin responded telepathically. "Flying over Sodom."
"You might want to take a look down there."
"That's not my destination."
"Sometimes detours are blessings in disguise."
Edwin frowned. "Do you know something I don't?"
"Let's just say… I have a little birdie who won't stop squeaking."
"You have good intel?"
"Very good," Azael replied, voice devilish. Edwin sighed. "Fine. I'll take a look."
"Good, young prince." The connection faded.
Edwin thought to himself: Telepathy Lucifer's gift. Only he, Azael, and I share this link. A perk of the dark. He descended, gliding low over the ruins of Sodom. Cracked streets. Shattered buildings. Silence.
Then music. Laughter. Voices.
Edwin's eyes narrowed. A party? A memory?
He landed, walking slowly toward the sound. He turned a corner and froze. A village. People eating, playing. Children laughing. Guards at the border. Electricity. Water. A full community.
Edwin had no words.
He rose into the air, floating above them. No one noticed the prince of darkness watching from above.
Then voices.
"They are rebels. They will kill you and everything you've built." A sinister tone.
Then a whisper. "Blood spill only leads to more blood spill."
The sinister voice returned, louder. "They will abolish everything if you do nothing!"
The whisper again. "The future is inevitable." Edwin's heart dropped. That whisper… it carried weight.
Then the sinister voice roared: "You are the master of your own destiny!" Edwin clenched his fist. "I am the master of my destiny."
He dropped into the center of the village, eyes closed, standing still.People screamed. Backed away. One man charged, sword raised. "Die, demon!"
Edwin opened his eyes, grabbed the man by the neck and crushed it. Then he unleashed.
Pouncing. Striking. Slicing. Each blow fatal. Each movement precise.
People fell like flies. Some fought back. Futile.
Edwin watched them cry, bleed, run. He felt nothing. He grabbed the fallen sword, blood dripping from his arm.
And he walked slowly toward the houses.
One by one. All you heard was cries and screams of every last villager.