Page 37 of The Devil May Care

“Okay. Then tell me about Crimson. I know Fire is a big deal. Tell me the rest.”

That earns a real smile. “The deal?”

“Yes. I’ve fallen into your world and survived death-by-political-jargon, so I feel like I’ve earned one good story.”

Sarai hums thoughtfully. “All right. But you asked for it.”

She launches into a tale that would put any university mythology professor to shame. Seven realms. Seven Sovereigns. Each one born—manifested—from an emotion so intense it warped the fabric of Infernalis.

And I hang on every word.

“In the beginning, there was only the First Flame. It burned alone in the dark, bright but aching, for fire is nothing without something to touch. And so the Flame stretched out, spinning threads of magic into the endless night. Seven threads it wove, each glowing with a different hue, each humming with a different song. And into those threads reached seven siblings—born from nothing but longing, drawn from the Flame itself.

The eldest grasped the Crimson thread, and passion surged through their hands. With it, they forged a realm of molten rivers, wild gardens, and endless creation.

The second held the Obsidian thread, heavy and dark. It filled their heart with sorrow, and from their tears grew a kingdom of memory, where nothing is forgotten.

The third reached for the Viridian thread, thorned and restless. Desire curled around them, sprouting forests that twist and hunger for what lies beyond their roots.

The fourth claimed the Cobalt thread, cold as steel. Fear took shape in their grip, and with it came piercing clarity, stripping all falsehood bare.

The fifth gathered the Gilded thread, bright as mirrors and gold. Pride shone through them, raising palaces of beauty where every surface reflects the self.

The sixth let fall the Umbral thread, soft as shadows. Stillness wrapped them close, weaving a realm where time lies sleeping and silence reigns.

The youngest caught the Argent thread, sparkling with laughter. Joy burst forth, scattering into music, revel, and flame-lit festivals that never end.

The seven siblings knotted their threads together, and thus the fabric of Infernalis was woven tight—seven realms, seven colors, each bound to the Flame and to one another.”

Another pause. Her voice drops, thoughtful now.

“When the seven siblings first wove their realms, Crimson was the eldest, the first to seize a thread.

But the others warned them: Passion burns bright, but it also blinds. How will we know your rulers are strong enough to bear the Flame?”

Crimson answered, “Then let them be tested. Let the threads themselves judge.”

So, the siblings made a pact. Whenever the Emberbrand chose a bearer, the seven would weave together, each tugging on the thread until only one knot held fast.

Obsidian said: I will lay sorrow upon them. If they cannot carry memory, they will be forgotten.

Viridian said: I will bind them with longing. If desire unravels them, they are unworthy.

Cobalt said: I will strip them bare with fear. If they shatter, they were never whole.

Gilded said: I will dazzle them with pride. If they mistake glitter for gold, their flame will fade.

Umbral said: I will drown them in stillness. If they cannot rise from silence, they will never rule.

Argent said: I will tempt them with joy. If they flee to laughter and abandon duty, the thread will snap.

And Crimson swore: If they endure all this and still carry the Flame, then they will be bound to me. Their thread will become the knot that holds my realm together. They will be Asmodeus.

And thus, the Rite was born. Not just battle, but weaving.

Not just strength, but the proving of a soul against every color of Infernalis. The Rite is not a game of crowns. It is the knot of seven. Pull one thread, and the tapestry trembles. Endure them all, and you become the flame that binds a realm.”

“I like that.” I think I follow the story. It reminds me of the creation myths back home. A god shaping a world in seven days. A sky woman falling from the heavens to land on the back of a turtle Siblings stirring the primordial sea. “All the siblings working together, not fighting each other, to control the seven realms. I’m not sure humans are capable of that. All it takes it one person concerned more about themselves than anyone else to take advantage.”