~~~~
"Hey, Bidnorowikz! Take this out to the bin, would you?"
"Sure," Bainton replied, dropping off his load of sauce-covered plates at the large sink. Grabbing the pail Gorge had flapped his large hand at, Bainton lugged it out to the alley-way behind the restaurant.
It wasn't easy, being here in Ivrithin, surrounded by pagan Worshipers. He missed the holy devotion of his native Comoryos, where men and women knew the Descendants for the false gods they were. At least he hadn't had to tell his fellow employees too many times that he didn't want to hear their blasphemous talk. If only the machinists in Suljem weren't the best, he might have been able to learn mechanical engineering in more civilized surroundings.
He hauled the pail up over the lip of the rubbish bin and dumped the contents in. He turned around and almost screamed.
A false one stood before him, brazen in her naked shame. She towered over him, hell-black eyes trying to consume him. He was vaguely aware of a thin tail swishing behind her. He'd heard of this one, this daemon-woman who ripped men apart and drank their blood.
"Bainton Bidnorowikz," she said quietly. Her husky, melodious voice sent shivers up his spine, and he felt himself falling under her spell, the spell of her daemon powers.
"You are a Descendant."
He didn't hear her. He didn't understand what she said. But she was speaking in Comoryoan! How did she know his language? How did she know his name?
A Descendant?
He dropped the pail and scrabbled backwards all of two paces before he smacked into the large rubbish bin. He was trapped by the daemon.
"You are a Descendant, and my Brother," the evil creature continued, staring at him with those hideous eyes. "But I would give you a choice, the choice that none before you has ever had. Now, you are as any other man. You will live as you will, perhaps take a wife and sire children, and continue on thusly. Take my hand, and you will join your Siblings in fighting to save the life you would give up. The woman you would have married, the children you would have sired, the employer you would have hired to. You can live among them and be as bound by the attacks of the Sukkers as any other, or you can stand apart from them and ensure that they live an untroubled life.
"I give you this choice. You do not believe that we are gods, and this is wise of you. We are not. Underneath this skin, behind these blank eyes, we are still the men and women we were before we Awakened. We still feel, we still think. We have chosen to stand apart, to sacrifice the lives we should have had in order that more people would live the lives they do have. But this was a choice we made after there was no alternative left to us.
"Our old lives were already gone; what was left to us but to continue as we were and do what we could? You now have the choice denied to us: you can choose to join us and fight to save your people, your way of life, or you can choose to simply live that life. I would not blame you for either choice you make; I wish I had been given it."
She stood there, staring down at him. His knees trembled as he stared up at her. Slowly, he began shaking his head; then he shook it violently.
"No! No, you hell-spawned witch! I will never become one of you, never give my soul over to damnation!"
"That is understandable," she interrupted him. "It is quite something to take in, and I would not require your answer now. Take the time you need to think, to consider what you need to do. If you make your decision tonight, walk down the alley-way that direction," she pointed behind him.
"One of us will meet you there and welcome you. If you do not choose to join us tonight, then go the other way and live the life you've chosen. If at any point you decide to stand aside from life and work to preserve that which you love, then go to the Parliament building and tell the guards that you wish to see Fulenthen Sonelion regarding your Mother."
With those ominous words, she stepped backwards and vanished into the shadows.
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