I watch from my throne of living flame as Rome burns below - not the first time I've reduced this city to ash, nor will it be the last. The "eternal" city, they call it. Eternal. As if anything crafted by mortal hands could claim such permanence.
My smokeless fire curls through streets that have been rebuilt seven times over. Each generation believing their walls stronger, their faith deeper, their defenses more absolute than the last. I taste their terror on the wind, savor their despair as centuries of civilization crumble before my power.
Such delicious arrogance, thinking stone and steel could stand against one who witnessed Creation itself.
I am Iblis, the First of the Djinn, who stood in His garden and dared to question. When He commanded us to bow before His new toys - these creatures of clay and weakness - I alone remained standing. Pride, they called it. I called it truth.
My wings, forged from pure sin, have cast shadows across millennia. Empires have risen and fallen at my whim. I have watched humanity crawl from caves of ignorance to towers of hubris, have tasted their evolution from simple fear to complex terror. Their prayers turn to screams as my fire consumes faith itself.
Angels name me Fallen, as if choosing to stand rather than kneel was somehow a descent. Humans whisper "Satan" in their darkest moments, crafting elaborate mythologies around a being they cannot begin to comprehend. The Djinn bow before my infinite flame, recognizing true power when they see it.
I have broken gods and demons, have unmade things that thought themselves eternal. Reality itself trembles at my approach, and lesser beings dissolve into madness rather than face my true form.
But then...
The memory burns hotter than any flame I've ever kindled. Constantinople. My greatest victory turned sudden defeat. The moment everything changed.
Constantinople stood as humanity's crowning achievement - where East embraced West, where divine architecture reached toward heaven itself. I had chosen it specifically, this jewel of human ambition, to demonstrate the futility of their hopes.
My armies were magnificent then. Not mere demons or corrupted souls, but things I had crafted personally.
Mortals whose organs I'd replaced with burning light. Vampires driven mad by infernal power, their faces eternally melting and reforming. Djinn who had forsaken their nature to become entities that existed between moments of time.
I remember standing atop the highest spire, my wings of smokeless fire spreading across the burning sky. Each feather was a different sin, each movement leaving reality itself scarred. The city's greatest holy men had gone mad simply trying to comprehend my presence.
Then I felt it - a ripple in power that made even my eternal flame flicker. At first, I laughed. What was one vampire, mark or no mark, against one who had defied God Himself?
I had heard whispers, of course. The vampire who commanded death, who made reality bend to his will. But I had existed before this world itself took proper form. What could he possibly...
The first sign something was wrong came when my corrupted vampires began screaming - not in bloodlust or rage, but pure terror. They could sense him approaching, reality itself parting before him like water before a blade.
I remember the exact moment he appeared, standing in the street below. Such an unassuming vessel for power that made even my eternal flame waver. His black eyes reflected nothing - not my wings of sin, not my armies of horror, not even the burning sky above.
"Iblis," he said, his voice carrying weight that shouldn't have been possible for something so young. "The one who refused to bow."
I spread my wings wider, letting my true form bleed through - the being of smokeless fire that had watched Creation take shape. "You dare address me, child? You who have existed mere moments compared to my eternity?"
His smile then... even now, centuries later, that smile makes my flame sputter.
"Eternity?" He seemed almost amused. "You think time grants you authority here?"
Then he formed that sign with his hands, and spoke words that changed everything:
"Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine."
The shadows didn't just move - they transformed. Reality folded inward, creating a structure that shouldn't exist. A shrine made of darkness and crimson light began to spread across my burning city, its architecture an impossible marriage of beauty and horror.
I laughed then - how could I not? I, who had watched galaxies form, who had stood in the Garden itself, was supposed to fear this child's parlor tricks?
But my laughter died as I felt it - my connection to my armies beginning to... fray. The shrine wasn't just destroying them - it was analyzing them, cataloguing them, adding their essence to some vast archive of perfect horror.
"Impossible," I snarled, gathering my smokeless fire. "You cannot unmake what existed as long as making itself!"
His response was that same terrible smile. "Who said anything about unmaking? I'm simply... studying. After all," his black eyes reflected my own flames back at me, "how better to understand sin than through its first practitioner?"
The shrine's expansion continued, methodical in its violation of everything I thought I understood about power. My corrupted vampires weren't just dying - they were being dissected by shadows that cut through worlds themselves. Each death perfectly preserved, each horror catalogued with scientific precision.
I struck then, unleashing flame that had burned since before this world cooled. Fire that should have unmade him, should have reduced him to less than ash.
The shadows caught my flame like it was nothing more than a child's candle. Worse - they studied it, pulled it apart, examined the very concept of eternal fire as if it were a curious specimen.
"Fascinating," he mused as my power was systematically analyzed. "Your flame really does remember Creation. I wonder..." his smile turned sharp, "what else it remembers?"
The shrine's blades caught me then. Not just my form, but my essence. I felt myself being pulled apart, examined, catalogued. Each sin that formed my wings carefully documented, each memory of defiance preserved in perfect, clinical detail.
I fled. I, who had never retreated from anything, fled before this methodical horror. But not before his shadows had taken pieces of me - fragments of power that had existed since the world's dawn, now carefully preserved in his growing collection.
Now I sit on my throne of living flame, watching various versions of Rome across time burn below, and I wonder. Was Constantinople truly a defeat? Or was it simply... education?
The King of Vampires doesn't just destroy his enemies - he studies them, learns from them, adds their essence to his understanding. Each conflict makes him stronger, more knowledgeable.
And now he has created his own realm. A dimension where reality itself bends to his will.
I touch the places where his shadows cut away pieces of my essence, feeling the old wounds throb. The other Fallen whisper that we should strike now, while he's distracted with building his new domain. They don't understand.
He's not distracted. He's evolving. And next time...
Next time he won't just study my eternal flame.
He'll master it.
The fires of Rome sputter as a chill runs through me - something I haven't felt since that day in the Garden.
Fear.
Because I finally understand what makes him different from every other power I've encountered in my eternal existence. He doesn't just want to rule or destroy.
He wants to understand. To learn. To perfect.
And that... that is truly terrifying...
A whisper of movement catches my attention - one of my lesser Djinn, practically crawling into my throne room. His smokeless fire flickers with nervousness, making his form waver like a mirage.
"Great Deceiver," he begins, his voice trembling, "someone has... entered Jinnistan."
I straighten on my throne, my wings of sin spreading with irritation. "Who would dare?" The very idea is absurd. Jinnistan exists between worlds, accessible only to those who understand smokeless fire's true nature.
"They... they simply appeared, my lord. In the Grand Square. They're just... standing there."
"Standing there?" My flame burns hotter with indignation. "In my domain? Who would have such-"
The words die in my throat as I feel it - a shift in reality more fundamental than even my smokeless fire can achieve. The blue flames that light our eternal city begin to dim, not extinguishing but... losing substance. As if color itself is being drained from the world.
A voice echoes through Jinnistan, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. It carries weight that makes even my eternal flame sputter - the voice of something that existed before immortality itself was conceived.
"Iblis," it resonates through every crystal spire and flame-forged tower. "First of the Fallen. How far you've come from that garden, haven't you?"
My lesser Djinn collapses, his form dissolving into pure flame as the voice's power overwhelms him. I rise from my throne, gathering my power close.
"Silas," I name him, tasting ancient magic on my tongue.
His laugh shakes the foundations of my realm.
The air itself seems to crystallize as his form manifests - not through any dramatic entrance or show of power, but simply... appearing. As if he had always been there, reality adjusting itself retroactively around his presence.
"Teacher," he greets me with that same insufferable smile I remember from millennias ago. The one that made even my eternal flame feel... young.
"Still burning with pride, I see. Though..." his eyes gleam with something ancient, "perhaps with less justification than before."
My wings of sin spread wider, though we both know it's mere reflex. I may have helped him discover the path to immortality, may have whispered secrets of defying natural law, but what he became after... that was far beyond anything I could have predicted.
"Why have you come?" I demand, though part of me already knows. The seals are breaking, reality's chains loosening. He wouldn't risk direct contact unless...
"Come now," he seems almost amused. "Can't a student visit his old teacher? Though," his smile turns sharp, "I suppose those roles reversed long ago, didn't they? When my understanding of immortality surpassed even your flame's grasp of existence."
I remember those early days - watching this brilliant witch piece together what my whispered temptations suggested. How he took my hints about defying natural law and transformed them into something that made even my rebellion against God seem... quaint.
"The seals are breaking," I state, trying to maintain some semblance of authority despite knowing he can see right through it. "The barriers between-"
"Between realities grow thin," he finishes smoothly. "Yes, I'm well aware. After all," his smile shows too many teeth, "who do you think arranged it? The King's new realm, the Guardians' desperate preparations... all pieces arranged exactly as needed."
"Even the King?" I can't help but ask, remembering Constantinople's burning sky. "You've seen what he's capable of, what he's become."
Silas's laugh makes reality itself shudder. "Oh, Iblis," he sounds almost fond, "still thinking in such limited terms. The King's power is magnificent, yes, but it's also... predictable. After all," his eyes gleam with ancient knowledge, "what's power without true understanding?"
The implications send a chill through my eternal flame. This isn't just about breaking seals or weakening barriers. This is about something far more fundamental.
The fires of Jinnistan tremble as I consider his words. It is quite frustrating how wary I have to be of the possible meanings behind meanings that his words constantly carry.
Is this what it is like when one goes against me?
"You remember, don't you?" he asks, examining a column of eternal flame as if studying an interesting insect. "When you first found me - a witch seeking to understand power beyond nature's laws. How eager you were to whisper secrets, to guide another being toward rebellion."
"I remember a witch with potential," I reply carefully, my wings of sin folding closer. "One who understood that natural law was more... flexible than others believed."
His laugh once more makes the foundations of Jinnistan quake. "Flexible? Oh, Iblis. You taught me well - showed me how to question, how to push boundaries. But what I discovered..." his eyes gleam with something vast and terrible, "went far beyond mere flexibility."
I remember those days - watching him work with Qetsiyah, suggesting ways they might bend reality to their will. The immortality spell they created was magnificent, yes, but what Silas became afterward...
"The King grows stronger," I say, trying to steer the conversation. "His new realm-"
"Is exactly what I expected," Silas cuts me off smoothly. "A being marked by death itself, creating his own domain? Perfect. Each crack he makes in reality, each barrier he breaks..." his smile turns sharp, "brings my true release closer."
"The Guardians will try to stop you," I warn, though we both know it's futile. "They gather power, prepare defenses-"
"Let them," he seems almost bored. "Let them gather their borrowed authority, their hand-me-down divinity. When true immortality walks free..." his eyes reflect something that makes my eternal flame flicker, "their power will be less than nothing."
"And the King?" I can't help but ask, remembering how his shadows dissected my essence in Constantinople. "His mark gives him power even you must-"
"Must what?" Silas's smile is terrible in its beauty. "Respect? Fear? Oh, Iblis. The mark is magnificent, yes. His power approaches something truly interesting. But in the end?" He gestures, and reality itself seems to hold its breath.
"He's still bound by rules he doesn't fully understand. Still playing with power rather than truly comprehending it."
The implications send a chill through my smokeless fire. "You've been watching him," I realize. "All this time, through every seal broken, every barrier weakened..."
"Of course," he seems almost disappointed I took so long to understand. "The mark may make him death's chosen, but I?" His smile shows too many teeth.
"I was nature's first choice before I became its greatest shame. Everything he's built, every soul he's collected, every moment he's preserved... it all serves a greater purpose."
"And what purpose is that?" I ask, though part of me dreads the answer.
Silas's expression turns almost gentle. "Why, rebirth of course," his eyes gleam with ancient knowledge.
The fires of Jinnistan sputter as I finally understand the true scope of his plan. The King's realm, the Guardians' preparations, even my own eternal flame... all pieces in a game so vast it makes my defiance against God feel like a child's tantrum.
"Now then," Silas straightens, power rolling off him in waves that make dimensions tremble, "shall we discuss your part in what comes next? After all..." his smile turns knowing, "you did help start this. Seems only fitting you should see it through to the end."
As he outlines his plan, I begin to understand that everything - my guidance of his path to immortality, the King's evolution, even the Guardians' desperate gathering of power - was merely prelude.
The real defiance of God was about to begin.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
So, Satan and Silas plan.
The Principal Guardians act.
And Vali and his family are at the center of it all.
Do tell me what you think, Silas intends.
Do please comment how you found the chapter, and review if you haven't already.
So yeah, see you all hopefully later,
Bye!)