The Demon Who Was Once a God
The night of his birth was unlike any other.
In the heart of a hidden village, nestled within the shadowed valleys of the demon realm, a cry pierced the silence—
A first cry.
It echoed through the streets, reaching every corner of the settlement, carrying something that sent an unexplainable shiver down every spine.
The demons stopped.
And then, in a moment no one could quite explain, they celebrated.
---
The Festival of New Life
Bonfires ignited, casting flickering shadows against ancient stone walls.
Drums pounded, their rhythm steady like the heartbeat of the land itself.
The air filled with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wines, and enchanted fruit.
The entire village—demons of every kind—gathered beneath the dark sky.
Succubi and incubi danced, their silken robes swirling as they blessed the newborn with whispered incantations of beauty and charm.
Beastly demons with tusks and claws roared in approval, drinking heavily and slamming their mugs together in celebration.
Rabbit demons, sleek-furred and swift, wove through the crowds, tossing flower petals into the air, their soft giggles carried by the wind.
It was tradition.
Whenever a demon child was born, the village rejoiced.
For demons were few. Their kind, hunted and feared.
Each new life was a victory.
A reason to defy extinction.
And so, they feasted.
They sang, they danced, they laughed.
But beneath the joy, beneath the music and the firelight—
A single truth remained unspoken.
---
The Child Who Was Different
Inside a small wooden home, two demons stood over the newborn, gazing at him with awe and unease.
His mother, a gentle demoness with crimson eyes, cradled him close, her touch soft as silk.
His father, a towering figure with dark horns and jagged scars, clenched his fists.
The baby did not cry again.
He simply stared, his blue left eye like a frozen ocean, his red right eye burning like an eternal ember.
His fur was pure white, marked with black spots that did not seem natural.
Not stains. Not blemishes.
Something else.
The father reached out, hesitated. "He is… unlike any demon I have ever seen."
The mother ignored him, pressing her forehead to the child's tiny face.
"He is ours. That is enough."
But the father could not shake the feeling.
A feeling that something old, something forgotten, had been born in their home.
A being that should not exist.
And outside, beyond their little house—
Beyond the celebrating demons who cheered for a life they did not understand—
The gods trembled.
For the child they had cursed had taken his first breath.
And in his silent, unreadable gaze, they saw their doom.
---
End of Part 3
This version adds:
A village-wide festival where demons of all kinds celebrate his birth.
A sense of joy and tradition (new demon births are rare and sacred).
His parents' reaction—his mother sees only a child, but his father feels something is wrong.
The black spots on his fur are now more ominous, hinting at his past life's sins.
Foreshadowing—the gods already sense the consequences of their mistake.