Chapter Twelve

“Let go of me,” shouted the head of Spine, “Why am I arrested? Under

what charges am I tried for? This is a mistake!” “There is no mistake,

Masterchief,” said a voice from the dark corner. Dezzick had been taken into a

dark room with a single, dim light.

Out from the darkness came the chancellor, Samyaza. He was Lucifer’s

advocate and emissary. He judged all cases by Lucifer’s laws, then he judged by

his own. He was a bloodthirsty monster. He would kill any of his greatest soldiers

to satisfy his own desire. He did, including his only son. Now, his intelligence

surpassed Lucifer’s own, but the Devil always too powerful for him. So, he

stopped trying to usurp the throne. He decided it was more pleasurable to run the

empire than rule it.

“Chancellor, I am innocent,” cried Dezzick. “Fool,” exclaimed Samyaza,

“How can you say that you are innocent when I haven’t even told you the

charges!” “What is my crime,” asked the anxious demon, “What have I done so

terrible that you have done this to me?” Samyaza walked up to him, his face right

beside Dezzick’s own. The chancellor’s wings showed expressed happiness.

Dezzick’s wings would have shown fear, if they weren’t binded down.

Samyaza’s height lacked about five inches from seven feet. He had long,

brown hair, which was straight until it reached the ends, where it would curl

outward. He had earth brown, piercing eyes which had the ability to strike
enough fear into anyone and turn petrify them. He wore enough armor to make

his pale-skinned body no longer perceptible. He had a Germanic face with a

somewhat British nose. He usually spoke in nonchalant whispers. He was leader

of the Grigori (or the Watchers), angels sent by God to humanity to teach them

the basics of life. Instead of teaching the humans, they took the crown of creation

and enslaved them. This was before the Fall of Lucifer. Even when he was an

angel, Samyaza was a brute.

Samyaza whispered one word into Dezzick’s ear. A word so cursed and so

humiliating that those who received it was bestowed the ultimate punishment:

death. The word which had shattered Dezzick’s life once before. The word which

had marred his childhood. The word orphaned him. The chancellor whispered

with barely any volume, “Treason.”

Dezzick then entered a comatose state as the officers carried him away

from Samyaza’s presence to a prison that was fifty stories below the chancellor’s

very feet. Dezzick was to be flogged, tortured, interrogated, and finally put to

death.

Treason. Samyaza loved to give punishment for the crime. It was the only

one he found amusing. He flew to his office and lazily sat in his chair with a dark,

cruel grin portrayed on his face. Treason. And so the fun begins, he thought to

himself.