When I passed, I did so helping others, and begged the gods to let me continue. I am now an eternal, living, fireproof, self-repairing, house that can teleport to where I'm most needed. I can care for those within me, and expel those with cruelty and violence in their hearts. So, I'm content. -- BKF
Some Devilborn live with the names they're given. It's rare, but it happens. The rest of us choose names that match our demonic nature or fit an aspiration that matches our hearts. I named myself Courtesy. As a wandering Druid, I did everything in my power to help those in need. Rarely a thought to myself.
And why not? I could make a shelter with earth shaped with my own magic. I could use a word and a gesture to provide sustenance for a day in a single berry.
That said, there's been many times when I went hungry or slept in whatever hollow I could find. Because other people needed it more, and I was exhausted from connecting with the leyflow. To that point, there were many times when I worked for others until I collapsed into said hollow in the ground. It was no great shock that one of those was where I died.
They were starving. They had no millet to make into bread for themselves, let alone for my soul. I knew that as I was looking at my own corpse. Before I looked up to see Mistress Dark waiting for me.
"I know the fate of unfed souls," I said. "These people cannot spare so much as cereal dust in mud-water for me. You would condemn me for that alone. Please. For the sake of those who need... Let me stay and continue to help those who need. Until either there is no need or another soul pays one of their millet loaves for the journey."
"There will be restrictions," said the Hostess of All. "You must not set your foot upon the bare earth. Going forward, the beasts will know you as you are, a soul in perdition who cannot take the journey. You will have no control of where you are put and who you must aid. However... I will allow you to refuse those with hate in their hearts." She paused to consider her words. "It will be much easier... if you do not have feet."
I woke without the ability to breathe. Slowly settling into my new body. Which was... not a body of flesh and bone. I had no feet to set on the bare earth. I had... hollows. My heart was a hearth. My skin was... an exterior of... an inn?
I was an inn.
But it was a Druidic inn. A living house where the food grew indoors, and the hearth was a magically-controlled fire that would not catch on anything else. The rooms' beds were more nests of soft, downy comfort than furniture known to civilisation.
Well. Most civilisations.
Where the privies fed the plants and the water was always fresh and sweet. Where the baths were both natural and perfect for intelligent life. There was even something of a cellar complex where water-based life could rest in comfort.
It was the kind of home I had always wished for when I was alive. The kind of place I had always wanted to retire to, when I was done wandering. But a devilborn is never allowed to settle, until they settle in their grave.
I guess... until the Mistress let me become one.
They let me become used to myself before I was summoned. To host foot-weary, exhausted, lost, and desperate souls. It was also no shock that my first guests were Hellkin like me. Like I... used to be.
"I'm just saying it's suspicious as all seven hells," said the one lingering outside the door. "We're in the middle of nowhere. Who the fuck would put an inn in the middle of fucking nowhere?"
"Hallo the house!" The leader of the sad little tribe called. I felt his voice echo through my walls. "Anybody running this place?"
The child of the group, young and a bit of a spitfire, had a lot of volume when they yelled, "We're gonna take your go-old!" at the top of their voice.
"Merzel! No!"
"What? It would'a made someone run if'n they was here."
The one hanging by the door sidled in. "I'm good at smelling a trap, but this... it looks like a trap. It feels like a trap... but it doesn't smell like one. It smells... Gods. What's the opposite of prison?"
The eldest of them, hobbling inside with the help of a staff, said, "It might be 'welcome' or even 'home'. If you mean a place where you're not forced to stay within." She took a deep breath. "Yes. Welcome. This place smells welcoming."
I dropped a good berry for each of them on a table. There was other fruit and crops, but they were starving. The berry would never sicken anyone.
My first and last gift to the needy. Fitting that it would be the first again in my new life.
The devilborn knew to divide things fairly amongst themselves. I knew to be more cautious with other species. The devilborn also knew too much caution, and sniffed at their new gifts before eating them.
"This is some Druid shit," said the reluctant one.
"Language," chided the elder.
"I know alla th' words, Aunty."
"You shouldn't have to hear them all the time," grumbled the elder. She sat by the fire. "An old Druid house? Or... and old Druid?"
Yes, I wanted to say. I died without bread. Mistress Dark let me become this.
The elder Aunty, eyes milky with age, twitched to the fire as if she heard something. "What? Were you a Troll?"
A logical conclusion. Trolls were trees that could walk and talk until they became old and sessile. Then grew silent and still with senility.
I was once Hellkin like you. Mistress Dark gave me this second chance.
"Ah. Odd."
"Who are you talking to, Aunty?" asked the reluctant one, poking into corners.
"It seems... I can hear the house. We are, indeed, welcome."
"Huh," said the leader. "Well. There actually is a first time for everything."
[Photo by Ace Failagao on Unsplash]
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