nox-the-former-demon

[nox-the-former-demon]

>>In this post, I, the former demon known as Nox, will elaborate on a simple question. Why? What was it all for?

After all one doesn’t rebel against the system, start an 800 year war, sow discord and disorder, destroy souls, spawn living weapons, try to end a literal child, and end up trapped in the skull of an idiot for no reason. Well, it’s simple really. I had a big idea, one I thought would make things better and easier. And it felt like something worth fighting for.

But as for what this idea was, first we need to revisit the rivers, if only as a refresher.

When a life ends, their energy, their soul, is taken to the river of death. Its waters wash away history, rendering away the past, ending the individuality that a soul once had and reducing it to its basic bare slate. When a soul reaches this point it is transferred to the river of rebirth. This second river molds and shapes souls into the form they need for their next life. This would be a process utterly unpredictable and mostly automatic save for two points. First, that a soul need be manually transferred from the river of death to the river of rebirth by outside spirits, and the second, that spirits may impart gifts onto a soul before it departs, talents and whatnot usually but it could be other things as well.

I was once a part of that first part of the process. I and many others monitored souls in the river of death where I would watch for those ready to cross over and remove them, sending them across. Engaging at first, but it grew maddening with time, and then my mind began to question what the point was. Why even bother rendering the souls clean for new lives? Afterall, all souls were fundamentally equal at all times, sans those that existed outside their life for any time to grow in strength. And those skills and memories and experiences were going to waste.

That was my goal. My motivation. Maybe it was one born of selfishness and madness and sloth. Or maybe it had noble intent. But I wanted souls to skip the river of death entirely. I wanted all those born to have their past lives still a part of their soul. A new life wouldn’t be able to remember right away, but all could have the potential to do so. And if people knew that death wasn’t an end, that their past could follow them past the grave into their new lives, maybe people would act better. They might take their actions into better consideration and think ahead and not worry so much about the individual life they had now out of a desire to make future lives better.

It was believed Cariel’s seven eyes could see all possibilities, and that they could glean the absolute path events would take if she had the time to contemplate. And I think gunk Cariel must have known that there was amassing potential for bad to happen with my idea in place. That’s the only reality that makes sense to me. The only reason an ancient soul, one of the most powerful of them all, would place a massive gamble on their very existence and at the cost of their own sense of self just to prevent my goals. They must have. And I realize now for myself how bone headed the idea was too.<<

[nox-the-former-demon]

>>Nel killed God.

Sorry, let me start from the beginning, I just really wanted to cut to the chase on this one. Ahem

In this post, I, ex demon Nox, will discuss the flaws of the old ways now that their arbiters are all gone, be it by their intent, their melancholy winning, or a violent outburst by someone who had had enough of their shit.

When I first took up my mantle, my job was simple. Agitate the waters of the river of death, check on the state of souls and if any were ready to cross over into the river of rebirth, scoop them out and toss them over. A quiet but mindful job that was simply done and monotonous as hell. On the other side, leaders would contemplate, plan, and direct their unders to use the souls as clay in a manner not unlike a sweatshop to mass produce and send on their way the lives to be born.

The issue with this system was that as the population grew, demand grew in turn, and with certain individuals being extremely stuck in their ways, there was a growing demand on the people working the system. I think it was that stress coupled with the monotony that pushed me to my limit and made me do the things I did. The system was broken in ways I could obviously see and I didn’t want to perpetuate it.

Funnily enough my rebellion did necessitate some level of change. The river of death now has intentional bottlenecks that create harsher flows that do the agitation automatically, and some of the more… stained souls will be put into a cage of sorts and left in these areas for extended periods to really scrub away the past they had.

The river of rebirth, by comparison, has apparently taken some level of modernizing. I don’t claim to know the details for that, I wasn’t too privy to that side of things during my time. But I do know that they’ve sped things up and lightened the work.

But the fact that a war needed to happen to make these changes is but one of the many reasons why the old ways didn’t work. And more importantly, why the old people needed to go.

In a past post I mentioned Cariel, Death, and a third individual I left unnamed just to avoid stirring the pot too much. I did so because their chosen name was the name of the god Christianity and the rest of the Abrahamic religions venerate. God, Yhwh, etcetera etcetera. For simplicity’s sake I’ll henceforth refer to that one as Y. And Y is far and away the central point of this post.

As you know by now, Cariel reincarnated 31 years ago. And Death did so as well as year. These ancient spirits saw their time needing to end and ended it themselves on their terms so as to allow the world beyond life and death to have the room to grow. But Y… Y was a sticker. The founder of the Knights of Justice, the knower of all the old things, the last remaining soul to exist unchanged for two millennia. With a position like that, Y garnered respect and admiration. But also contempt and anger.

Asa and I have visitors time to time. Her and Nel’a guardians, a few other notable individuals, hell even my daughter Marisol is on friendly enough terms to use our body as a means of getting away from work time to time. And whenever they visit, they chat with Nel. And in recent months, many of them were stressed out and complaining. Complaining about Y. Complaining about the extra authority he now had. Complaining about how everyone was stressed out

Nel decided Y has to go.

The story as I’ve been told (as I was standing on guard duty over Nel’s body at the time) was that Nel broke out of the shackles of their physical form, projecting themselves out and up. They then shrunk their soul down to a tiny size to sneak up on him before growing to full size and lashing out with wolf like fangs and sharp claws and antlers. Allegedly he fought back, got a good blow in on Nel’s nose. But Nel held firm. They even showed Y Cariel’s old face for a moment. And then, they dunked Y into the river of rebirth a few times before tossing him in entirely, all before reinforcements could arrive.

Funny thing about the river of rebirth. It doesn’t have good effects on a soul that hasn’t been stripped by the river of death. It can deform and twist and damage a “complete” soul. Rather horribly. So Y was in no condition to keep existing after that. He’s been sent to the river of death for an extensive cleansing. One long overdue.

With this head stripped away, the system finally has room to change. To improve. The new generation has a clean slate to make the world better, to make the future more unique and more beautiful than it ever was.

And we have to thank Nel for killing God and allowing that to happen. And you wonder why I love that deer-fox?<<

[nox-the-former-demon]

>>In this post, I, an ex demon known as Nox, will be discussing the mutability of the soul, the ever changing and evolving nature of humanity and what it means to be alive, and the reason why the generations seem so different from each other.

Before I begin, recount my examination of the reincarnation cycle, and the flawed nature of it. In it I discussed how the soul may have small tampering or carry overs from past lives and contact with others. For the sake of this discussion, one can view the soul as a painter’s canvas. And in this analogy, those above flaws are comparable to either frays in the canvas, markings from being mishandled, or maybe even stray splatters of paint that landed upon it whilst the artist was working on a separate project. And while you may attempt to cover up these mistakes or imperfections, there presence will always be a felt element, the paint in that spot will be thicker than it ought be, or the painting as a whole may have some minor warping. These mistakes may be viewed as negatives to some, but to others, add to the character of the piece as a whole.

With this established, if the soul is the canvas, life and living is the painter, and experience the paint. Every breath a person takes, every sight a person sees, every decision they make and every experience they undergo, these are brush strokes that leave a mark on the soul, often a colourful one that will go on to shape the end product, the person who that soul becomes. But much like a painting, mistakes happen, missteps, poor strokes of the brush, poorly mixed colours that streak or fade or whatever else. Most often these will be covered by other brush strokes, other experiences, as the canvas of the soul is painted upon again and again until such time as a deadline passes and life ends. And for many, this continuous repainting is merely reinforcement of what the initial impression that the artistic stylings of life presented.

But as is the case in all things, exceptions are always a possibility.

Think back to a life altering event. It needn’t even be your own, but some sort of experience that to one or to several or even to all served as a pivotal moment wherein life as one knew it shifted. And when this moment happened, the person who experienced it changed. The course of their live altered. We can compare these moments to when an artist who has become disillusioned in their piece suddenly is struck with inspiration and changes the direction of it entirely. Maybe they make broad sweeping strokes of the brush to make drastic changes, or maybe they lay down an entirely new base layer and start from scratch. These are the moments that greatly affect who a person is. These are the moments that cause the most drastic changes in what a soul is.

I’ve come to personally refer to these moments as metamorphosis.

It’s an apt word all things considered. Because not only does who you are change, so does what you are. And I’m lucky enough to have undergone it myself. I start each of these posts in much the same way. By calling myself a former demon. And that introduction serves as an apt way to grab the attention of anyone whom so happens to stumble upon these posts. But that does beg the question of what I am now, doesn’t it?

You could say I’m human now, and that’s not inaccurate, I live a human life afterall. But souls are seldom so simply designed. My former self had four arms even before I acted as a demon, for I was one primed to shoulder burdens, carry sins, and lash out at those I saw as my foes.

But more recently, those descriptions don’t suit me. Nowadays I’m more… stubborn. More surefooted. I lash when I’m pressed but I’m mostly content to find what I enjoy and simply enjoy it. I’ll speak when I want to speak, and I’ll move when I choose to move.

It shouldn’t surprise anyone that with my metamorphosis as an individual I wound up with goat’s horns. Laugh if you wish but… a goat is a find symbol of who I am now. And most people will undergo something like this. Few stay the same forever. For some it’s slow and subtle, for others it’s sudden and drastic, and for certain annoying headmates, it’s an all too predictable exaggeration of what already made her unique but with the dropping of inhibiting elements that restricted her but also stopped her from being quite so infuriating… oh well I suppose. Happy company is preferable to miserable company, even if the wings tend to hit you in the face sometimes.<<

[nox-the-former-demon]

>>In this post, I, Nox, Former Demon, will elaborate on the unique trials one such as myself faces when suddenly and unexpectedly set into a living form, uncleansed of my history, and all too aware of how and why things are, as well as the nature of the body and soul’s interactions.

To start with, I first need to explain how to e body and soul each uniquely affect elements of a person’s being. Mainly, what elements come from what. To start with, I’ll start with the soul.

The soul is the origin of a person’s individual identity. The thing that says I am Nox or I am Asa or whatever else. The soul determines how one thinks, how one speaks, what one likes or dislikes. Unsurprisingly, the soul is the thing that drives your hopes and dreams and wants. But the soul isn’t something that stays in any one stagnant state of being. If it were, cleansing post mortem wouldn’t be necessary. The soul changes shape based on its surroundings, it builds habits and tendencies. The cleansing puts the slate blank, or at least as close to blank as manageable as the process isn’t infallible, mistakes are made, things get left behind or even picked up and imperfections are a given. And of course, the soul is bound to change once it’s in a form.

And a lot of this is because it is placed into a body that is hard wired certain ways.

To best illustrate this point, I often like to highlight handedness. In my past life, I was left handed, something that contributed to my military success with the HRE. But now that I share my form with Asa, we’re both right handed. This extends to other factors as well. The way your brain is wired, the chemicals that flow through your blood, injuries and medical conditions and puberty, all of it will have some sort of impact on how your soul melds to its form. Sometimes things are good fits, others the imperfections from the cleansing cause clashes. That’s why some people thrive in life and others struggle to exist.

I mention all of this to set up for the main subject I would like to discuss. That being neurodivergence. I don’t think it would come as a surprise to anyone if I say that neurological imperfections are a factor of the body and not the soul, elements a person is born with and cannot change but may change them as a result. Autism, ADHD, Tourette’s, OCD, Bipolar, so on so forth, these are all elements with how you are physically put together and while some can be treated others cannot, and you either need to be adapt to it or let to rule you.

Having said this, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that one who spends a long time without a body isn’t used to these kinds of conditions. A thousand years of having no physical wiring, suddenly shunted into a human form will have a pretty harsh adjustment period.

I was probably neurotypical before, even in my past life. Now, I’m in a body with adnd and probably autism as well. And I won’t lie, I kinda hate it.

I find myself sleeping in most days. Asa may wake up before I do, taking her medications most mornings. I think that the stimulant probably helps stir me most days. I remember they played a strong factor in my remembering who I am, giving the room to focus and think. And now they help me pull myself off of the couch in our shared headspace. But I’m not without difficulty. I’m far more forgetful than I once was, I can get affixed to certain things far more easily than ever before… to be honest I hate it but there’s only so much I can do. I’ll survive, as long as I need to anyway.

Some of you may be wondering where gender identity comes from after this explanation. And the answer is, partially body, partially soul. It should be obvious that imperfections in the cleansing play a role, but also the way the brain is wired, and how both your brain and soul ultimately react to hormones. It’s a mess, and it’s a mess that after all these years isn’t going away. That’s just the nature of the cycle. Imperfections are a necessary component of existence, and people really should understand that anymore. If they don’t, they don’t willingly.

If you’re now wondering about my own identity, sharing a form with Asa, let me abridge it. Asa is a trans woman due to imperfections in her cleansing, she is also partially inhuman due to her history as a demon and exposure to Nel, whose power had an effect on those around them. As for myself, my masculinity has never been too core a factor to me as a person. I spent so long embracing inhumanity that I only barely perceive myself as human, and in more recent times, I’ve found myself adjusting both to the wild energy Nel puts out as well as the femininity that comes from Asa’s and my shared existence in an estrogenized body. Asa is, to quote her, a “Transfeminine Human-Adjacent Dog Thing”, meanwhile I would best be described as “Xenogender”, as well as, with some reluctance in saying as much… a femboy. I hate that word but it’s accurate.

Asa’s pronouns are She/It. Mine are They/It/He. It’s an awkward situation, sharing this form, but I’ve had enough time to get over the initial shock and just only be mildly annoyed.<<

[nox-the-former-demon]

>>In this post, I, the former demon Nox, shall detail what it feels like to return to life after having been in the invisible world beyond it for a millennium.

It’s strange how you can completely forget what living feels like after so long. It doesn’t help that I died young, but the emotions that people feel are tied partially to mentality and personality, but then also to physicality and biochemistry. Spirits are much more prone to objectivity than the living, and while many of them are capable of emotional outbursts, the those can take much longer to build up, much longer to stew and percolate and develop.

A fine example of this, of course, was myself. It took 200 years for me to reach the point where my rebellion began. The removal of my prospects for the future happened, but the dread and doom and fury took a lot longer before they boiled over. Spirits who’ve existed beyond death much longer than double their original life seldom feel for anyone who hasn’t been a part of their existence for massive swathes. Perhaps that’s why the war was such a tragedy in hindsight. Both sides had such limited capacity to even care for their own forces that losses were more a matter of inconvenience than sorrow.

To live is to be emotional, to die is to lose passion, to live without passion is to be inhuman.

Normally this coldness is stripped away as part of the cleansing ritual. The process that strips identity from a soul so it can take new shape also gives room for loving passion. But I don’t experience this process. I was swallowed, and reborn with all my history in tact. My millennium of non-life, my centuries of slow emotion and an absence of instant passion.

To have all that return to me so suddenly was by far the most dramatic thing. And it wasn’t without consequence.

First there was malaise. Boredom is a shockingly powerful feeling to have when time starts having meaning again. And after the boredom came anger. Anger at my situation. Anger at my host. Anger at my war having been lost. When my memories returned to me, I hated what had happened.

But then came tragedy. It was very soon after my memories returned that I had to be witness to Silus’s end. I’d never been a particularly loving parent to my progeny, but that event stuck with me in a way I didn’t know how to process for some time afterward.

It was after that point that I started to make bonds with others. I revealed myself first to Nel, then Asa’s social group, and in doing so began to make friends again for the first time in a long time. And I made close friends, at least in my eyes, with a few people. Though I failed to admit as much at first.

That needed a catalyst. A psychoactive catalyst.

To make a long thing brief, Nel and Asa were interested in experimenting with mushrooms and that meant I was along for the ride. And what a ride it was. Before the end of it all, I was on the ground, screaming, sobbing, mourning, lamenting. And thank all forces that Nel was there. They comforted me in a way that I never imagined possible. And the sorrow processed and I felt better…

And while my mind was in that open state I realized something else. That I’d started to love. Something is not ever known before. Nel was one of the two whom I started to feel for, but there was another. A woman who I will not name, who I confessed to, and who did not reciprocate, but to this day that, though I lament to admit as much, my heart still hurts for.

Nel, on the other hand… well, there were hurdles to cross. Our history had left scars on me, and that love took some time to come in in the aftermath of those scars, but Nel grew to love me back in some time as well. Nel and I are an item now. And yes, Nel and Asa are still together as well, but the nature of these two sets of relationships are very different, and we provide different things to them as it turns out.

To be without passion is to be inhuman. To live is to be passionate. And to be passionate is to be human. And that’s why I’m a former demon now.<<

[nox-the-former-demon]

>>In this post, I, the former demon known now as Nox will detail my current situation. My position in the headspace of my headmate, the relationships I’ve managed to forge, and the peculiarities that surround me.

First, there was absolution. An emptiness that drained any sense of self from me. I had assumed that that was what second death felt like, what having your existence wiped out would be. When you see nothing, hear nothing, experience nothing, you first go mad, and then you go quiet, and you cease. All thought goes quiet and you feel the absolute nothingness that. An only be described as a disconnection from existence itself. This was my state of being for a long time as I recovered. It makes sense, all that had survived of me was my eye, not that I knew that at the time.

After the absolution, when I was fully recovered, absolute quiet became murmurs, whispers in the distance that cut the quiet and woke me from my seemingly eternal rest. As I open my eyes, I found myself in darkness, twisted and abstract. I was wandering, lost, following the sounds I heard in an attempt to find something. Anything. I didn’t know who o was, where I was, why I was. All I knew was that I was.

It was when I finally grew close enough to the source of the sounds that I could make them out clearly that I began to be able to act in any capacity. And I’ll admit, I was a bit of a dick. I could hear self lamentation, self hatred, and I decided to make it worse. To insult and chastise and just generally be a jerk. It was the only thing that felt appropriate in the moment. And while she couldn’t make me out clearly at first, Asa did hear. And she responded in some part. This made the rest of my journey out of the dark easier. Eventually I spotted a light. Eventually I found what would become our single room headspace.

That simple space, maybe 12 feet on any side, a perfect square, a pair of screens, a chair, and Asa. I didn’t recognize her at first. And she didn’t notice me at first either. I sat down, and I watched. Her drama was like a movie to me. I was the passive observer, like the passenger in the car of a road trip: I could speak to the driver, who may or may not acknowledge me, but I still didn’t have power yet. Not yet.

It was a while before that came. Before Asa started to realize that I wasn’t just her self doubts. The thing that tipped us was her first big breakdown. Emotions ran heavy, and she couldn’t handle it, so she fell out of the chair. It would have been a total shut down, but I was there. And I played with the controller some. I experimented. I did chores, spoke as if I was her. Establishing that I could have just as much control as Asa could. And eventually, she caught onto me.

We still didn’t know much about what I was yet. But my presence grew more and more undeniable until I was finally spoke directly to eachother by way of the app known as discord, a private server, speaking back and forth, seemingly to one’s self, but not. Our personalities clashed. We thought I was a splinter of hers at first, pieces that had broken off and started to exist on their own. That would prove wrong later when Asa would go to confide in someone else. When true coincidence, or maybe true fate, struck.

The person Asa had confided in was possessed by Silus, and I recognized him. And all my memories started to rush back. I did my best to try and tak Silus down, talk my son down from his rage, but it didn’t help. I’ll talk more about this later but what mattered was I was remembering. And once I remembered who I was, Asa did too.

It is at this point now where I need to explain those who surround me. Asa, my headmate, my murderer, my metamour… Asa had been born in such a condition that lead to her eventually going on to meet and marry Cariel’s reincarnation. Something Cariel had no doubt planned for as well. The pair of them lived their mortal lives together, four children in tow, followed by a pair of guardians. Flak, Asa’s brother from before being born again, watched Cariel, and Casella, another of Cariel’s servants, guarded and monitored Asa, intangible spirits who had at some point in the past been forced to come in contact with them, building interpersonal relationships by way of possession and communication. I was surrounded by my former enemies.

Before you ask, no, my presence wasn’t appreciated at first. They tried to get rid of me but they couldn’t. I was tangled too deep in Asa’s soul. At first, the plan was for me to keep quiet. I had my confidants I’d speak to but nobody else. But… well, now that I was alive again, mortal again, I started to grow lonely.

And eventually, I had to make my presence known. First to Cariel, or rather, to Nel. Nel was the person who needed to know first because to be frank, never talking aloud was maddening. Nel wasn’t thrilled by it, but accepted it, albeit not without some threats. Honestly it was a massive shift from the Cariel I knew. As Nel, they were more… how to describe it… less holier than thou, more wrath of nature. It was refreshing in its own way. And it was around this point in time I decided I needed a new name. My old name didn’t suit me in my current state. It took a couple days, but the name Nox stuck.

Even then, only speaking to two confidants and Nel wasn’t enough. I slowly showed my existence in online spaces, and now, I’m a known presence among most of Asa’s social circles. And eventually… I made friends. And I even started to feel deeper emotions…

I’ll spare you the details. Nel and I eventually found common ground, started to get along. And now, we’re romantically intertwined. Nel isn’t the only person I can firmly say I love, there is another, but she doesn’t feel the same way, so I’ve accepted our relationship staying platonic. Furthermore, I’ve other friends, two of whom even see me as something of a mentor figure. For the first time in a millennium, I feel like I’ve actually felt alive…

That day, that day Asa begged Casella to kill my son… as horrible as that was to witness, it was the day that set in motion my return to humanity. It was the day that set in motion the Former to my demon status. It was the day my life started to begin anew. Asa and I. In a 12 by 12 room. A chair, a control station, a couch, a patio we can’t use, a lamp, a yellow dress for her and a charcoal suit for me… it’s not much. But it’s from this space that I’ve started to live again.

Asa is annoying as fuck though. The fact that Casella and she are a thing is also a pain since they’re both impulsive and chatterboxes, plus Nel and Asa’s children are intolerable some days, and not having my own face, ugh, I absolutely hate all of that. But… it’s a humble position in life that has helped me move on from the past I’d been broiling in for all those years.<<

[nox-the-former-demon]

>>In this post, I, Nox, a former demon, will describe the series of events that lead to my current life. This story begins with treachery, and ends with myself waking up in my current state of being, the second mind and second soul sharing a body with my host, my headmate, my murderer. In many ways, treachery begets itself, but I can’t say I didn’t deserve this either.

Our story begins during the French Revolution, but that is only a footnote. Merely a timeframe that spells out the origin of two key players. To make a long story brief, a pair of soldiers, siblings and brothers in arms, were preparing themselves for their next stand on the battlefield when one of the two felt metal pierce his back. This betrayal, for purely personal reasons, marked both souls. One, a kinslayer, the other, a loyal victim.

On the other side of the veil, these two would go on to be loyal servants for their respective side of my war. The victim would go on to be known as Flak, who’s name means Till End, a name chosen as he swore his loyalty to Cariel. An oath to never give up the fight, to never surrender, and to always be by the side of his charge. Golden hair, a longsword modeled after the very one he fought with in life, truly the model of a good hearted knight.

And then on the other, red hair stained with the blood of their own kin, a blade that resembled an oversized version of the kitchen knife used for that very murder, draped in tattered rags that were more for show than any practical purposes. I would know this soul as Asa, a name that meant healer, chosen for the raw audacity of it, but would go on to be something of a fitting title when they cut through foes with the precision of a surgeon.

Suffice to say, now that who was on what side was obvious, the former brothers were sworn foes, and in many ways, each others perfect matches. Where as one fought with pure instinct and raw ferocity, the other was clever, tactical, and whenever he could, used his foe’s strength against them. The number of times these siblings nearly ended each other permanently is one I rapidly lost count of.

And then, when word came of Cariel’s departure, Asa struck out, seeing this as a perfect opportunity to end the feud and the war all at once. If they could only take their brother’s life a second time… but the tables turned. It was a trap. One they were too prepared for. I believe Cariel planned that part before their departure. Either way, I was under the assumption I’d lost a soldier, and not much else.

What I didn’t know was that Asa’s true fate would be far more complicated.

Time passed. With Cariel gone, I wanted to strike hard and fast, but also precisely. I wanted it to go perfectly. I got almost too excited, and planned my move too methodically. I can’t begin to explain exactly how this came to be, but one fateful day, as I was making my preparations, I heard the sound of metal. And when I turned, that knife-like blade, now sporting a proper hilt to make it more respectable as a sword, was cutting into my flesh, familiar red hair with a blindfold behind it. Asa had returned, and now, Flak stood by their side, and they were here for my life.

I wasn’t about to go down like a chump. I thought I could easily overpower the two. One was blind and the other was directionless without his master. But as it turned out, the two opposites fit like a glove when they worked together. Relentless Asa attacked like a rabid animal, and precise Flak struck whenever an opening presented itself. I was fighting back of course but I was taking more wounds than I was used to.

Asa was the reason this had happened. A traitor. I knew if I could squash the life out of that one insect, the other would retreat when my full attention was upon them. So I grabbed the red haired one and used my full strength to crush them. They screamed out in pain, of course… but then, they lashed their face forward, teeth gouging the flesh of my face.

I wish I could tell you how that battle ended. I know having an eye bitten out wouldn’t kill me, I had four of them. But this is where my memory abruptly ends. Because the Nox that is writing this now is not the same demon who died that day. My eye was swallowed by Asa, who then went on to kill me somehow. And in doing so, a lot of my essence wound up a part of them. Enough to keep that eye alive, for the piece that would go on to become me to slowly heal itself.

But when that finally happened, circumstances had changed drastically. Because it wasn’t the rivers I awoke to. I woke up to a mortal shell. I didn’t know where I was at first, or what for that matter. Everything had been dark, and then things were twisted and tangled like a maze. For a while, I was merely a voice, then a shell who would step up whenever the original owner of the body was in mental crisis enough to shut down. But with time, and exposure, and access to the world around me, I eventually pieced it together.

Asa was no longer Asa. And no longer the masculine demon I once knew. Asa had been born to a human life, one where Asa was now known by a new name, and a new one still because she had come to discover herself as a transgender woman. And she eventually started to realize I was there too. A second voice in her skull. A second personality sharing her skin.

I intend on going into detail on how my host, whom I will continue to call Asa to protect her identity, and I have managed to make our relationship as headmates work, and how our unique form of plurality functions. But that’s all a story for another post.<<

[nox-the-former-demon]

>>In this post, I, Nox, a former demon, will describe the methods by which new souls are created, and how I came to be the parent of three children. Before I begin, however, please understand that this process echoes a common form of self harm. If such a subject is mentally damaging to you, it would be best to skip this post.

The rivers are not boundless. Life force is itself alive, and while it cannot perish from old age without a physical form, damage can destroy it. And with my war; causalities on either side meant lost life force for the river as a whole. To this end, greater souls would often elect to siphon off pieces of themselves to create new souls. Of course only a spirit of great power could afford to do such a thing. To that end, some souls were specifically given what I can simply call the gift of creation. Which is why it was usually the task of Cariel and the others. I say usually for a reason I will get to later.

The creation of a new soul is a highly ritualistic process, but the simple fact of the matter is, the tools to perform it are somewhat crude. For all intents and purposes, the two items needed can be rather simply described as a knife and a bucket. The knife is an ornate piece of curved silvery metal for the blade with a handle adorned with unnaturally luminous jewels, and the bucket is a simple heavily tarnished silver vessel.

If you did not read the disclaimer in the first paragraph, this is your second and last warning. This process will cause a self harm trigger if you read it and are sensitive to that.

To create new souls, one embraced with the gift of creation need to slice themselves with the knife, usually held at a rigid angle above the bucket, and allow their essence to pool in the bucket. While doing so, one is meant to focus on their intent, whether a soul would come fully formed or be shapeless and ready for new life was up to the one giving of themself. The bucket would react, and the essence would boil and smoke, or at least is did when I did it, and the resultant souls would emerge one by one.

And yes, I did it once. But for me, the process was more complicated.

I don’t think it’s hard to imagine that I myself didn’t have the gift needed to properly use the knife and bucket. So for me, an extra step was needed. A tool was created specifically for my purposes, heavy metal shackles that, should I manage to apply them to a victim, would drain their essences and let me tap into them. It was a hard hard task, kidnapping Cariel while also getting my hands on the knife and bucket I needed. But I managed it.

And my rewards were Lanius, Silus, and Marisol.

Lanius was a brilliant tactician, a master strategist who took the disarray of my forces and organized them into a genuine force. I say was because, as far as I know, in the time since my becoming trapped in a mortal shell, he surrendered, and gave himself up for reincarnation. Or I suppose first incarnation.

Silus was a powerful warrior. A monster on the battlefield who’s strength was matched only by his brutality. If all my warriors, he was in the top league. Of all my children, he was the one I personally had my eyes most on at the time. And of all my children, he was the only one who couldn’t let go. His death is something I am well aware of. He hid from the enemy by possessing a human body, but his nature shone through, he was found, and he was eliminated.

And Marisol… she is to this day the one who I can be most proud of now that I’m not the monster I was. She was the shrewdest, the cleverest, the sneakiest and most capable. For a time, she worked as a spy, an infiltrator, a saboteur. She ran a network of information for the war and she was damn good at it. And that’s why, in the time since my defeat, in the time since the war’s end, she has taken over the seat I gave up, and is using it to mutually benefit both sides. She doesn’t plan to stay, that role will belong to someone else one day. But she’s doing well… and she wants nothing to do with me.

In the end, I heavily misused the power of the knife and bucket. And my legacy ended in a whimper instead of a bang. But the princess continues, the cycle moves on. And whatever happens next, I can accept that it’s for the best.<<

[nox-the-former-demon]

>>Today, news arrived that has lead me to decide to disclose details about my former enemies and rivals. I, Nox, a former demon now living life as a second soul entangled in a human body, fought a vicious campaign against the keepers of order and status in the rivers of death and birth, and during that time, I had many a foe. Several I destroyed by my own hand, others I had subordinates dispose of, but over my 800 years of near stalemate war, three stood out. The three that never died and never retired… well, mostly anyway.

The first was a man who to this day maintains the name of the Christian god as his name of choice, something that dozens are beyond annoyed by. At a time, he was considered the justiciary of order, the keeper of the status quo. But eventually, he became big headed and to this day isn’t particularly popular. Still, as the founder of the knights of justice, and to this day the one on charge of determining punishments, if there’s one thing positive he brings, it’s that he doesn’t make decisions rashly. Still, his position has been severely limited due to drops in popularity. The fact that he still exists and hasn’t retired is something that can only be attributed to stubbornness.

The next notable figure is one that demands far more respect. Terrifying respect at that. A man with a name now lost to time. The first face the departed see, the arbiter of the end. Death. Death has long been the overseer of the moment life ends. Making sure souls don’t get lost in their way to their cleansing. Making sure that all things come to their end when their time comes. I remember that moment for myself clear as day. I panicked at first. But he calmed me. Explained that death wasn’t the end, that a new opportunity awaited, and showed me which way to go. He didn’t stay around of course, he had other places to be. But Death’s job isn’t to oversee what comes after, only that moment.

At least, when he is at his job. But of course my war forced his hand a few times. Death rarely took to the battlefield himself. Too busy, too obsessed with making sure his job got done. But I’d there was a single soul that could make me feel fear, it was Death. In hindsight, I think his general policy was to only get involved when my actions might have ramifications on earth, or might disrupt the rivers’ flows.

But it didn’t matter. In a fight, the man was a butcher who left nothing standing. I have been lead to believe it was an inherent trait to his mantle. That those who carry the name Death have some trait to their spirits that make them almost impossible to harm, and that make their blows against others almost impossible to resist. Why he never actually ended me, I don’t know. But if I had to guess, it was because of his lover, and my greatest enemy. Cariel.

Cariel. One of the 6 capable of creating new souls, one of the most proactive and efficient warriors, leaders, and keepers of the cycle. Healer of the wounded, predictor of fate. Not the most powerful, sure, but effective at anything they did. Out of all my battles, they were the most consistent face. They lead dozens of teams against me and mine, both sides losing some, facing changing.

Maybe we were just equally matched, or maybe Cariel held back. Who knows. But those seven eyes, the golden claws… trauma may be why I remember them so vividly, or maybe it was infatuation, or jealousy… Cariel left the rivers nearly 20 years before my fall. I thought for sure I would be able to complete my coup with that, but no. It was always planned with Cariel. 20 years later, Cariel’s most loyal soldier boy showed up at my door with his former brother turned demon turned traitor. And for one reason or another, I didn’t stand a chance.

I wrote all this now because it has reached my ear that Death is finally hanging up his hat. That he is retiring, handing the mantle down to a chosen successor whom he is sure will be up to the task, and being born anew. So both my enemies are gone now. The only one truly left is being kept on the sideline. Even if I could return to the rivers, nothing would be the same. And that’s both terrifying, yet strangely comforting. Still, when the day comes for you to die, don’t expect a silver haired man with a gaunt face. Because he won’t be the one to meet you.<<

[nox-the-former-demon]

>>In this post, I, Nox, a former demon now stuck sharing its body with a trans woman, will detail the afterlife to my knowledge. During this explanation, I will explain the broadest strokes of how the cycle of death, rebirth, and reincarnation work, as well as how the system has changed as a result of my actions as well as the actions of my predecessors after my removal from my position of rebellious leadership.

After my death, I was individually singled out. As a soldier, I had proven myself dedicated to the line of duty, a judge of character, and self sacrificing enough to make a decision for the benefit of others, even to my own detriment. I was told that I would have the opportunity to be a part of the great cycle of life and death, and serve a cause of unimaginable proportion. Foolishly, I accepted. That was when I learned of the Rivers.

Invisibly in the sky flow two rivers of energy. One, the river of the departed, a blackened stream where the souls of the recently deceased arrive. The other? The river of birth, where prepared souls wait to be shaped and formed into the life energy needed to let the world continue living on. These two rivers bend and twist and reshape themselves constantly, with only one constant being that they are interlocked, and overlap in two places around the globe (which also move). Upon the death of a human or animal, the soul naturally finds its way into the river of the departed, where they are washed of their past, eventually becoming pure enough to join the river of birth. From the river of birth, guiding spirits shape the souls into whatever they need to be and send them on their way.

The cleansing is a long process, and few know what it’s like, for obvious reasons. The most persistent belief, however, is that a soul will live their entire life in reverse. Nobody is sure about what speed nor if this is even fully accurate in the fist place, but it would explain why many souls take so long to fully cleanse.

I was one of the hands of the cleansing. One of only a very small count. We were to observe souls as they were cleansed, look out for complications and damages if we could, and guide the cleansed on their way. Errors were a frequent enough occruance but could you really blame our fallibility? I maintained this position for the best part of two centuries, at which point monotony started to set in. I made mistakes more often, I didn’t think things through properly. I was getting sick of the work in general.

But they changed the laws at some point. The rules for succession were made stricter, and I was functionally in no position to have a successor. I was trapped in a job I’d grown to hate. To an extent, you could understand why I grew rebellious.

I and others would start fishing up rebels, and violent souls, and anyone we could get our hands on who we could thrust at the authority. We began to call ourselves Demons as an echo of the stories of the world below. I wasn’t the true leader, but I may as well have been in the eyes of most. And we would fight for eight hundred years, a power struggle of constantly changing faces and names, tools and plans. At some point, I managed to capture on particular spirit, steal their potential of creation of souls, and spawn my three children. I was making move after move, plan after plan… the only person. Who could consistently contend me was Cariel, who I will talk about more at a different date.

And then, to the surprise of everyone Cariel would incarnate on earth… and while there, they would lead to the discovery of an anonymously individual who, to spare you the details, would partner up with one of Cariel’s knights and blindside me, ending my reign, and leading to my current status. Again, something for more detail later.

I’ve been told in the aftermath, the system has changed radically. The whole process is more involved with dozens more hands and a new system of succession. My daughter is now the overseer of things. I’m proud of her but she also hates me to this day, a fate I deserve. The biggest issue faced at this point is human overpopulation. And with Cariel gone, the issue may not be resolved soon. It’s forced more shortcuts to be taken, but that’s not anything for me to weigh in on anymore.

Death is the end, but it’s also the beginning. If you get noticed by someone, you may wind up seeing so much more than you could ever imagine, be it because you’re given a job, or someone who has one wants to see you again, or some other unusual circumstance.<<

[nox-the-former-demon]

>>This Blog is owned by Nox. A former demon who, after a battle against a traitorous subordinate, found itself trapped in the body of a transgender woman, existing as a secondary consciousness in our now shared body.

I was born in the 11th century, in a rural area within the Holy Roman Empire. My views on the church were on the harsh side, and I eventually found myself enrolling in the military as soldiers were given some leeway from rigorous observation of the faith. Eventually, one January, I passed away.

I don’t want to detail how I perceive the afterlife to function, but I will broadly say that I was given a job due to my diligence. One that I with time grew to resent. I became rebellious, fought against my superiors, and eventually became a notable ‘demon’, a title I gladly took on to emphasize my rebellion.

This lasted until only a decade ago, when I was, to say it as broadly as possible and not mince words, killed. And through a series of events, my left eye was swallowed by the woman who is now my host. I spent a lot of time recovering from that. For a time I was nothing. Then I was the harsh voice in her head. And then I was what was left over when she had an emotional breakdown. Until I eventually started to get my memories back.

It has taken a lot of work to come to terms with my existence. I am bound to my host in ways I don’t fully grasp, but it is clear that it’s not something that can break easily. Not until we pass away anyway. So until then, we’ve been slowly working out a system that allows me some degree of individuality and autonomy without destroying the life she has worked so hard on creating for herself.

I’ll be inclined to give more details at a later date, but for now, I’m mentally exhausted for personal reasons.<<