The Demon Sphere

Urum Laetificus heard the rush of the breeze on the other side of the his prison wall, and imagined what it would feel like against his skin. Gentle, tender, cool. He got goose bumps dreaming of the world outside and its sensations-- its colors, smells, and adventure.

But Urum Laetificus knew of the outside only as adream. He was isolated. He did not simply feel it. He knew it.

Laid as an egg by his harpy mother and cursed for his father's transgressions, Urum was to be trapped inside his egg for 10,000 years, waiting to break out of his shell.

He did not experience the world around him. He simply overheard it. Eavesdropped on it. It took some time to understand the noises and sounds for what they were. Words. Ideas. Life.

As his body slowly grew over the millennia, Urum listened and took notes. Although the languages would change, the concepts and concerns remained:

"Do you love me?"

"Is this the right thing to do?"

"You want how much for that goat?!"

As the noises of the world outside Urum's shell would ebb and flow, he would etch it down on the walls of his calcium carbonate prison. He would spin around the ovular cage to make use of every inch of the shell.

He had concocted his own language, his own cuneiform, for which he developed his own shorthand to prioritize space. The shorter he could write, the more he could write. Because all Urum could do was hear, think, and react.

And this, with his imprisonment, impacted the color of the world around him:

"Love is a fallacy."

"Morality is a farce."

"Haggling has nothing to do with the object in question. It is about power over the other person, whether you are the buyer or the seller."

Urum used his imagination to dream up what a "goat" would like. How many eyes should it have and how large are the eggs it lays?

When the last square millimeter was covered with his nail-pressed cuneiform--Urum-i-form-- the half-harpy sat alone with this thoughts. For nearly two centuries, he was forced to listen, unable to scribble and digest what was heard. He dare loose a single note jotted by writing over it.

Those were the worst two hundred years of his accursed life.

Then, about halfway through his term, Urum discovered he could peel away the inner lining of the shell. This greatly expanded his tome, and allowed him to write again. With voracity, Urum expounded on the thoughts he had during his gap bicentennial:

"There is no greater evil than selfish desire. The will to overcome others at all costs. It will sink the deepest joy and bury every love you know. The pain uttered by the countless discontent is no reprieve, for that very same pain feeds the selfishness of the aggrieved. I shall not be one of them!"

And so, Urum changed his methodology. He would listen and observe the world, objectively. Critically. Investigative even. He would report what he heard, and then read it back to himself. Digest it properly for all the nutrients therein.

Urum would then etch his opinion, acknowledging his biases and handicaps:

"While I would agree these Greeks are in the ascent of current cultural domination, the writer's need to constantly evoke its inspirations from previous civilizations seems less informative and more petty than anything else. Also, penmanship has been illegible as of late. Steady hand, man!"

This back and forth with himself created a dialogue where once there was only one lonely voice. And for next four thousand years, Urum heard the world around him, wrote it down and then opined on his own reporting. It really made the millenniums go by!

Throughout his tenure in the shell, Urum could discern movement of the egg itself. It became more discernable as he grew and with each layer he peeled off inside. While the egg seemed to move great distances on horseback or cart, it was always handled with care. Treasured.

In fact, Urum finally gained perspective on the subject and immediately reported it down:

"Today, the current owner of the egg, one Cyprus of Achaemenid, boasted that this prison in which I reside is not only an ornament of greatness, but the most illustrious example of that power! According to the Achaemenian, the possession of a harpy egg represented the triumph of humanities over the ancient past.

"Now that the harpies had been hunted and slaughtered to extinction, their eggs remained a trophy over the cruel avarice of the winged creatures. The harpies had feasted on the frailest of humanity, young and old, for millennia, each civilization fumbling to find a defense.

"It is not clear what eventually lead to the harpies' demise, but stealing eggs from their nests as home decor most certainly contributed.

"As for the preeminence of the egg in which I reside, Cyprus extolled its color, size and presumed history: This egg was the intended hatchling of the harpy queen herself and a rogue god, bent on eradicating the human race out of spite and jealousy. Hence, my presumed stillborn state was the greatness victory over the humanity's greatness foe.

"Yet, my heart still thumps without the warmth of the harpy-hen. I live, despite their misconception. And so I most posit: Are there other lonely harpy children with beating breasts around impenetrable shells? Or, am I the only one?"

As centuries past, Urum continued to observe and opine.

Then came the day. Urum Laetificus did not know this would be the last day of his imprisonment. For thousands upon thousands of years he had made some peace with this prison, this scrinium of musings and observations. But with each manuscript pulled from egg's inside, the durable shell had become fragile. And ready to break.

All it would take was a moment, and Urum would be free.

The egg was now in the possession of a Wealthy Roman family, passed down from generation to generation, remaining in place at the foyer of their opulent home for nearly two hundred years.

The current owner, a roman general, had been called from his offices at the Capitolium to return his family home for a secretive audience. The general dismissed the staff and poured a glass of wine for himself. Urum heard from the other room as the general unfurled a scroll on his desk. The parchment sounded thin and fragile, denoting its age. The general stared at the scroll in silence, sipping his lead-laden wine.

Then, two heartbeats appeared in the foyer doorway: A man and a child. The general walked over to greet them. Urum heard the following:

"General Serta... Are you here?"

"Ah! Captain Laetitia! oh-- you look worse for wear. Is your platoon with you?"

"They're dead, general. All dead... The map to Bactria led to us a death trap!"

"I see... and did you sire a child on the way back?"

"Sir, excuse me. I found this child alone in Bactria. It is he who saved my life."

"Huh. A tribunus augusticlavi saved by a small brown boy in the Far East. Now that is extraordinary!"

Urum could tell that the general was seething.

"Let's not waste any more of my patience, Laetitia. Did you find it?"

"Sir, I should give my report first--"

"I did not send you to a ziggurat in the middle of the desert for a report! Did you find IT?!"

"Sir, I--"

The general stomped toward Laetitia and Urum could hear Laetitia's feet leave the ground.

"Where is it?! Where is the weapon?!!"

"There was---there was no weapon--"

Laetitia was slammed onto the foyer table where the egg sat. Urum rocked inside as the situation escalated.

"The scroll pointed you to the weapon, Laetitia! Decades of my family's study and research triangulated that exact location of the one thing that will turn the tide of this war! And you want ME to believe that it wasn't there?!!!"

"It wasn't-- there was nothing-- nothing but death--"

The general released his hold on the subordinate and paced to the other side of the room.

"...And what death was this? Cowardice? Incompetency? I am truly disgusted with you--"

"Sir! we found the ziggurat! We found the damned place-- but as we climbed the steps, we heard... from unseen mouths... the chanting--"

"Chanting? Oh! How deathly!"

"-- We heard clapping from unseen hands.... And then... one by one... eighty men were killed by unseen death. Eighty! It swallowed them whole, leaving nothing behind except splatters of blood on the stone steps..."

Urum could hear the general gasp. It seemed genuine.

"And yet we kept climbing, general! We kept climbing!!! Until I, the man that led the expedition, was the only one left..."

Urum felt the tension in the room. It was thick, even from inside the egg.

"...And what was at the top?"

"Do you hear how many men we lost? How much we suffered just to get there?! Just to die in a foreign land?!"

"Captain, would you prefer dying close to home? Because without that ancient weapon, you have sentenced all of Rome to die at the hands of the barbarians... What was at the top of the ziggurat?!"

The young captain grasped the foyer table. Urum could feel it sway under the captain's weight.

"...A shrine."

"Ah! and what was in the shrine? Or did you not bother to look?"

"I ran for shelter into the shrine... the door closed behind me... Locked... I was... trapped... in the pitch black. Then a light sliver of light appeared from the ceiling to the center of the room... it was there... it was there..."

"Yes?"

"...It was there... that I found the boy."

"What boy?"

"This child..."

"...Alone?"

"Yes."

"I see... does he speak?"

"Very little... I taught him some Latin to communicate. But he does not know how he got there in the shrine or for how long..."

"Was there anyone else?"

"No... save for the bodies... the bodies of my men, general... They somehow appeared along the walls of the shrine, strung up on hooks like cattle, along with hundreds of others long since dead....... "

"...Uh... A very macabre scene, captain. And this boy was at the center of it all?"

"Yes. He had been chained to a giant stele at the middle of the room, where... blood pooled from the corpses... I released him and we searched the room... There was nothing else in there but death and rot..."

The general walked back to the captain and the boy.

"How did you both escape?"

"The child touched the door and it suddenly swung open! I grabbed him under my arm and fled as fast as I could."

"I see... Thank you, captain. I assume you left the area with the boy and returned to Rome?"

"That is the extremely short version, yes."

"Excellent... Does the boy have a name?"

"I named him... "Faustus."

"Faustus! Faustus the Fortunate! How wonderful! Please captain: make yourself at home. I shall put together some sustenance for you both. And we can continue your report thereafter."

"Thank you, general. That is most generous of you. And... apologies for my insolence. I'm--"

"Not another thought to it, Laetitia. Please, rest. I will return."

General Serta departed the room, leaving an uneasy presence behind. Urum began to digest the story told: What happened in Bactria? That is beyond the edge of the Roman empire. What weapon were they sent to retrieve? Something ancient, the general said. And who was this mysterious child? And why was he chained up inside that awful place? Further, what was it used for?

"Faustus. I need to look around. Stay here."

The boy nodded and the captain left the room.

Silence echoed through the foyer. Urum wondered how long the boy was imprisoned in the ziggurat. Was he scared? How did pass the frightening time surrounded by corpses and blood?

For the first time in 10,000 years, Urum felt grateful for this lonely, cramped prison. It had been a pitiable and awful existence, but it was a safe and nurturing place, even in its solitude.

An audible roar of someone's stomach broke the silence. Was that the boy?, Urum wondered. Suddenly, Urum felt the table rattle as the boy climbed atop. What was he doing?

Then came the knock on the shell of the egg. Urum had heard individuals tap and knock before, but that as eons ago. The shell had become much thinner since then. The sound now disturbed Urum's haven.

"Hey! Do you mind?! What do you want?!"

"...Hungry..."

"Hungry? Well, then eat something. What does that have to do--"

Urum caught himself. The boy must have thought his egg was food. Who was this kid?

"I'm not lunch, you twit! I am an... accursed demon! Trapped for eternity for the sins of the world! Begone!"

"...Um... Hungry?..."

Urum could not believe that his very first conversation in 10,000 years was to prove he wasn't edible.

"Listen, Kid! I am NOT food. Seriously, I hoped my inaugural parley would be of some substance! Not with a famished dolt! Get thee gone!!!"

"No! Hungry now!"

The boy lunged for the egg and Urum was sent spinning. He felt the weight of the boy on his shell, and then the immovable force of the tile floor.

After ten millennia trapped in an egg, Urum Laetificus had finally hatched. He found his feet under broken shell and slowly stood up for the first time, legs creaking. He opened his eyes and was astounded with the vivid colors his imagination could not create. He ran his hands upon the table he sat on for 200 years and wept at the cool smoothness of the marble top.

Urum could hear the world for the first time, free of the parameters of his stifling room: the birds singing, the clatter of humans on the street, the neighing of horses and goats, the crunch of his scrolls in Faustus' mouth...

"What! Spit that out, you beast! That thousands of years of my work!"

"It gross."

"Of course it is! It's intelligent! Give me that! and that! What an idiot!"

"You smell...."

"I smell?!! I smell?!!! What am I doing?! Arguing with a child who's ready to gnaw on the plaster walls."

"...Hungry..."

"So I have heard. Alright. Since you did free me from that interminable thing--"

"Welcome!"

"--ugh-- let me get you something to eat."

Faustus poked Urum's gaunt belly.

"You no hungry?"

"Hmmmm... I guess... I never thought about food... Yes! I will eat! I will eat! Come, to food!"

Urum walked to the front door of the home and watched Rome go by. It was invigorating. So much so, others noticed and stared. Faustus appeared at his side with a table cloth that has been under the egg.

"Nude. No food for nude."

"Oh! I see! Then I shall dress. Thank you... Faustus, was it?"

The boy nodded.

"You?"

Urum wrapped the tablecloth over his lanky body, posturing like a senator. The white of the thread somehow made his obsidian black skin even darker.

"I am Urum. Urum Laetificus!"

"Hi!"

Urum sniffed the air with his beak-like nose and found his first meal.

"Come, Faustus! Vittles and victory await!"

"Ok!"

As they walked, Urum felt the cool breeze on his skin for the first time in his entire sheltered existence. He teared up, as it was better than anything he could have imagined. He breathed in the free air and stole it in his lungs for later. Freedom was marvelous.

But, Urum's inner critic was not sated and wondered what terror would now befall him. Would he be hunted down like his brethren? Would he be forced back into another prison? This time only worse?!

And who was this strange, simple boy from Bactria and what did he have to do with some secret weapon?

These were the mysteries of life, an adventure, and Urum was finally ready to live it. Firsthand.