He had been human. He knew he had died. Why was he awake? Why was he moving? His body ached. And who were these people treating him like a small child? -- Anon Guest
This should not be happening. Of that, they were sure. There had been a risky skii trip to get -in retrospect- a silly little treat.
They couldn't remember what that was any more.
They could remember... A vast hatred in their spirit towards some people. People who had been different to what they were. They had been Human. Yes. The others were... exactly like the giants around them.
Skin of unnatural hues. Eyes of eerie colours or shining with their own light, or not possessing iris nor pupil. Horns erupting from their heads. Pointed ears and pointed teeth. Hellkin! They were in a nest of Hellkin!
One came into view. Into focus. Exhausted and perspiring, yet smiling to show off their fangs. Jade-coloured skin. Sweat-slick hair the colour of seaweed, tied harshly back. Horns in a sweeping curl that parallelled their skull. They were enormous.
"Hello my little," they panted. They were using Voulspeak, the language of those vile beasts. "I am family-of-birth. I will love you and care for you and protect you as much as I can."
They could understand! They could understand Voulspeak. Only the devilborn could understand Voulspeak as soon as its words were spoken.
That could only mean...
They were also a Hellkin.
They started screaming, much to the amusement of the giants around them.
Why? Why had this happened?
And as soon as that thought came to them, they had a vision. Of another Hellkin that he knew in a former life. A son, who had become a king as prophesied. A son they had hated all of his life. A son who was also praying for his father's soul.
Their son. Praying for them. When all they had ever done was give him hate.
"If you would listen to me just once," prayed the Hellkin king, "Spare him the Plane of Torment. Give him another chance... And if you can, show him what real love looks like."
The God of Justice works in strange and quixotic ways.
They were wrapped in soft warm cloth and held close to a breast and soothed with milk and careful touch. Blessed with kisses.
They'd rarely had such in their last life.
Maybe it wasn't so bad to have another chance. How odd for his former son to gift him with one.
[Photo by Susan Holt Simpson on Unsplash
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