Serotinous

## The Division

There are very, very few who remember the schism that brought about the divergence of divine magics. Lost to time, hundreds of thousands of years before the present time, there was no such thing as divinity and devilry. The gods were neutral, primordial, and things coalesced of nature and the wills of mortals. Long before the sundering of the Grafted One, there was a sundering of a different kind. When a faction of powerful beings rose up in force against others of their own ilk. Of what we colloquially know as divine magic, made up both of these factions. One of these factions became the gods, and the other faction became the demons.

Everything began with politics. General disagreements on how to treat mortals who were starting to overpopulate the terrestrial world. Many mortals had even arrived from off world, with new ideas, and seeking refuge for something darker than black that existed beyond the protection of mighty Diaseeth. But such petty disagreements came to a head, with the division of magic. For the use of one kind of divine magic was declared heretical, and those who practiced it branded as targets of this new regime. Back then, what we know as devilry and hell-magic, was synonymous with divine magic. But everything changed, that one faithful night.

## The Peoples' Man

*"I will not explain myself. For how could you understand something I could not. The ramifications of such a schism are felt to this day. But I was there. They told me to pick a side. And despite it all, I would do the same thing again. I have no regrets, even if what I did was not 'righteous', I believe it was right." -Serotinous, the Burnt Bud*

The streets of a city, whose name has been forgotten by those who walk the world, ran red with the blood of innocents. Mortals were hewn where they stood, laid, or crawled. All for the sake of politics. The end of an era. A god, long dead by our present time, sat the throne and smiled as he ordered the death of the 'lesser' beings. Of the poor, the downtrodden.

Back then they did not look like demons, they looked like people. And they stood the line, which had been drawn for them. When their magics were declared heretical and demonic, the mortals of our world were also sentenced to death, and so began the slaughter. A removal of political rivals, and of the cause of the issues in all aspects. The easiest way for a state to take care of a refugee, is to murder them in zeal. And call it 'justice'.

A human man ran through the street that evening. He raced along, carrying a babe whom had just lost its mother to a 'divine' being. An angel with feathery white wings. His tabard bore the heraldry of an unopened magnolia flower bud, and behind him sprinted a band of mortals. Serotinous, the Bud, was a hero of the common folk. A local demi-god of craftsmen, who had been worshiped throughout the city, was but just another refugee now. And he hoped he could make it to the end of the road. To the gates and beyond. We can rebuild. Forges can be rebuilt, re-stoked, and hope rekindled.

But those dreams died, as his worshipers died. The people with him executed, and him clasped in irons. A human babe, a true innocent without time to wrong, was snuffed before him. As if it was an easy thing to do. Putting out a flame, so beautiful, so full of potential. Clasped in cold iron, The Bud was thrown to his knees before a tribunal of winged angels. Beings who thought law was all. Beings who only knew 'law' as something handed to them, not something they thought of.

## The Execution of Serotinous

Guilty. There was no other verdict, and while they listed off crimes against the newly created divine state, the man in broken armor and forced to kneel, made up his mind about this new religion. Serotinous raised his head, and met the eyes of his judge. They thought it would be ironic, maybe even comical in a sick way, to sentence of lesser god of the forge to death by fire.

They were mistaken.

The evening when Serotinous was to be put to death upon the stake, and burnt to a crisp as divinity was ushered in as the new power mortals should follow, he rose to the occasion. As the flame licked around him, Serotinous understood what it was to be a demon. It was not to be inherently evil, but to be free. And on the pyre, what was once a small god who helped further commerce, became of demon prince. Drinking the flames and brandishing them against his captors, he sank away after causing chaos.

Eventually he would connect to the newly created realm of refugees who escaped their execution. And those who remained vowed to never forgive the 'divine' gods who chased them from the material world. One day, they swore to return, and offer mortals a choice instead of just doing as they're told.

Many things have become twisted, faded, or lost since then. But Serotinous is one of the firstborn demons. And though he would not tell the story to any, one of the good ones. Who tried to help those weaker than themselves.