Court of the Cursed

The night had deepened into an oppressive silence by the time Mathew felt the presence again. It was no longer subtle or fleeting; it pressed against the air, heavy and undeniable.

Mathew sat in his study, the soft glow of the fire casting flickering shadows across the room. His fingers gripped the armrests of his chair as his instincts screamed at him to flee, yet his body refused to move.

Then it came.

Out of the darkest corner of the room, the figure emerged, as if the shadows had congealed into a living being. Mathew's breath hitched. The demon was enormous, nearly seven feet tall, with an aura so powerful it seemed to distort the space around him. Massive wings, black as the void, folded behind him, their edges lined with faint, glowing veins of crimson.

"You feel it, don't you?" the figure said, his voice a deep, resonant growl that carried an unsettling calm.

Mathew stood, his fists clenched at his sides. "Who are you? What are you doing in my home?"

The figure stepped closer, his movements deliberate and measured, exuding an undeniable authority. His features were sharp and perfect, inhumanly so, with eyes like molten gold that seemed to pierce straight through Mathew.

"I am Belial," the demon said, his lips curling into a faint smile. "A Prince of Hell. And you… are fascinating."

Mathew's heart pounded, but he forced himself to remain composed. "You're here because of Abigail."

Belial inclined his head, his expression unreadable. "Astute. She was one of mine—an ambitious little succubus who overstepped her bounds. But her fate is not why I'm here."

"Then why?" Mathew demanded, his voice steady despite the cold sweat trickling down his spine.

Belial's gaze sharpened, his wings shifting slightly. "You banished her, mortal. Not through exorcism or ritual, but through sheer will. That is no ordinary feat."

"She was guilty," Mathew said, his voice hard. "I judged her for her crimes."

Belial chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made the room seem smaller. "Judgment. Such a human concept. Yet you wield it with the force of something far greater."

Mathew narrowed his eyes. "If you've come to threaten me, get on with it."

"Threaten you?" Belial's smile widened, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth. "No, mortal. I've come to understand you."

---

The demon moved to the fireplace, his tall frame casting a long shadow that flickered with the flames. He seemed to study the fire for a moment before turning back to Mathew.

"Tell me, Judge Thorne, what did you see when you looked upon Abigail Russo?"

Mathew hesitated. "Her true form. The succubus beneath the human façade. I saw the darkness in her, the hunger."

"And did it frighten you?" Belial asked, his tone almost casual.

Mathew's jaw tightened. "No."

"Curious," Belial said, his golden eyes narrowing. "Most mortals would have been paralyzed by fear, their minds shattered by the truth. Yet you stood firm, even when she pulled you into her domain."

Mathew's breath hitched. "You know about that?"

"Of course," Belial said, his wings flexing slightly. "Her domain was her strength, yet you resisted it. Her whispers of pleasure, the forbidden temptations—none of it swayed you."

"I'm not easily swayed," Mathew said coldly.

Belial stepped closer, his towering presence forcing Mathew to tilt his head to maintain eye contact. "You're not *just* mortal, are you? You see things others cannot, pass judgment with a power that does not belong to men."

"What are you implying?" Mathew asked, his voice low.

Belial's smile returned, dark and knowing. "I'm not here to answer your questions, Judge Thorne. I'm here to see you for what you truly are."

---

Mathew's hands curled into fists. "If you know what I am, tell me."

Belial chuckled again, his wings spreading slightly, casting the room into deeper shadow. "Where's the fun in that? Discovery is a journey, Judge. One you must walk yourself."

Mathew's frustration flared. "Abigail said nothing of this. She fought like a cornered beast. Was she even aware of what I am?"

"Abigail was a tool, nothing more," Belial said dismissively. "She thought herself cunning, but her kind rarely see beyond their desires. You were an obstacle, one she underestimated. And now, she's gone."

The weight of Abigail's death settled on Mathew. "She feared me in the end. Why?"

Belial tilted his head, studying Mathew like a predator observing prey. "Because she glimpsed the truth—your truth. And it terrified her."

The room fell silent, the only sound the crackle of the fire.

Mathew's voice was steady when he finally spoke. "Why are you really here, Belial?"

"To remind you of your place in this grand, twisted world," Belial said, his tone soft but dangerous. "And to let you know that you are being watched, Judge. Not just by me, but by forces far beyond your comprehension."

"Watched for what?" Mathew pressed.

Belial's smile faded, his expression turning solemn. "That is something you must discover on your own."

---

With that, Belial stepped back, his wings spreading fully. The room darkened as his presence seemed to draw the light away.

"I'll leave you with this, mortal," Belial said, his voice a low rumble. "Your power is neither gift nor curse. It simply is. But what you choose to do with it—that will define you."

And then he was gone, vanishing into the shadows as if he had never been there.

---

Mathew stood alone in the study, the weight of the encounter pressing down on him. He felt no relief at Belial's departure, only a gnawing unease.

When he finally moved, it was with a heaviness he couldn't explain. He walked to the bathroom, needing the grounding sensation of water to clear his mind.

As he passed the mirror, the moonlight caught his back. He froze, his gaze locking on the reflection.

There, over each of his shoulder blades, were two faint scars. Old, almost like birthmarks, yet their shape was deliberate, unnatural.

His fingers brushed against them, the texture of the scars sending a shiver down his spine.

"What am I?" Mathew whispered, his voice barely audible.

The question echoed in the silent room, unanswered.