I cannot believe that I’m really a Devos... a demon. I want to tell her straight up does she have proof to back up this claim that I am this Devos. I stand back being startled from she told me. If true, Dantailon is literally talking about me.

“Do you have proof I’m this presumed Devos?”  I ask.

She standing there sort of raising her left eyebrow giving me a look that I must be nuts.

“Have you experienced any pain in your eyes?” She responds.

Thinking about that awful night days ago, “I did. It was really painful.”

“Did you see black marks around your eyes?” She asks.

“Where are you going with this?” I answer back.

“It is typical because of you being a half-demon.” She says.

“I don’t get it, so you saying I’m a half-demon? I’m still a demon, right?” I wonder.

“Yes. Half-breeds particularly you and other half-human/half-demons are barely seen.” She explains.

“So why you say a Devos is so rare?” I ask.

“Because a Devos holds the balance between light and dark; a Devos can go either way.” She states.

“Can you tell me why a Devos has to go either way?”

“It is mostly due to your human side. Other kinds of half breed demons tend to stay to the path of darkness. For a Devos, it is so unique because of the way the human side and demonic side is so unbalance.”

“Unbalance?!”

“I sense your demonic side, Caden. It’s unstable.”

“I still don’t get this.”

“Let me enlighten you.” She starts pacing slowly around me in a circle. “Have you experienced unusual feelings to your hands…to your mind?”

“Hands no, but my mind yes.” I start remembering about the lights from the ceiling fan being exploded, and seeing Purson feeling pain from within from likely the words I said I wish it happen.  “When I felt some sort of anger or pain, something around me explodes.”

“That’s the difference between a Devos and a normal demon.”

“What you mean?”

“Demons rarely use their mind to cause things to explode; they mostly use fire as their primary weapons.”

“And what a Devos, don’t use fire.”

“I never said anything about a Devos not using fire.”

“What are you trying to say?”       

“You’re just tapping into your powers, but it is your demonic side that dominantly controls your abilities.” She continues. “Since you have not taken control of your demonic side, the rest of your powers could lay in dormant for years.”

I have no idea what I am listening to. I want to ignore what she is saying, but if I’m this Devos. Maybe I need to listen to this because right now I am starting to question my childhood. I barely reminisced most of my childhood. I then remember that forest moment I was so afraid to think about.

Back when I was eight, Omar—that old friend—and I were two troublemaking kids back in the day. He used to stay across from my beige house. His house was such a darken sage; I never seen that much green before. Omar’s mom was a nurse just like my mom. She and his mom were great friends. Just like us. His mom was single just like my mother. So one of those days, Omar and I had ridden our bikes nearby the creepy forest which were three miles away from our neighborhood block. Our moms told us to stay away and do not enter any part of the forest. We were just kids, so we ignored what they say and entered in. When we did, we found a possum running out of the woods. We decide to go after it. Chasing that possum was adventurous for us back then instead of watching Saturday morning cartoons.

That possum think it was smarter than us, but almost an entire hour of cat and mouse, we eventually found the possum heading up a long oak tree. Omar challenged me to climb up that tree. He almost dared me. I took that dare and climbed up the tree. I raised my small hands up those loose branches and loose stumps at a time. I had to be careful because I noticed a bee hive just a mile away from where the possum was nesting itself on top of one of the taller branches. Omar tried to warn me to watch out for those bees.

I did. I was mainly focused on that possum. When I finally got up to the tall branch where it was resting, I wanted to stand up. However, I did not want to test my full weight, so I crawled my way from where the branch and trunk connected to almost where that possum was, near the end of the branch. While I was able to hang on and crawl my way to that wild rascal, I almost got him. I tried to pull my left hand out while my right hand along with my feet tried to hang on. I reached out my left hand to the possum, but then the possum made some awkward noise and jumped off to another branch.

I tried to capture it during its escape, but the momentum of failing to capture it caused me to drop down; however, my right hand was still holding on. Omar screamed for help over and over again. I tried to pull myself up, but the branch’s base started splintering away from the trunk of the tree.  Before long, the branch broke off and I fall almost eight feet to the ground hard. I landed on my back near a patch area of grass and dirt. Omar rushed to my side to check to see if I damaged any of my ligaments as he continued to yell for help. But help did not come. I thought I broken bones, but the impact was so painful. As I tried to get up, I fall back to the ground. Omar tried to help me. I was pissed I could not get off and then I finally realized I broke my left ankle. It seemed my left ankle took the most impact from the air to the ground.

I felt the pain. I started to cry. Omar told me to stay calm as he ran to get someone to help us. I knew I could not walk, so I was furious. After a couple of times trying to get up, I quickly sat back down on the dirt ground still frustrated. I pounded my right fist to the ground with such force to show my anger I did not knew that right near me, the tree I fallen down was on fire.

I looked up to see the tree suddenly in a blaze. The smell of oak burning like it was a fireplace for the outdoors. Omar ran back towards me where he helped me up, he put my left arm around his neck, and we swiftly walked out of the burning tree. I turned my head to notice above the possum that I did not capture managed to escape in time where it hastily ran away to get to safety while the tree continued to burn. Eventually, we got back to our block thirty minutes later. My mom was not that happy to find out we went into the forest and I got myself hurt. Omar was there by my side all the way through, but he never questioned what happened to that tree. Since then, Omar and his mother left Oakston to head to Monroe.

I never had any contact with him since the move, and I was devastated by that. He was one of my childhood friends. Since that day, I always tried to believe what set the tree on fire was the sun. However, learning about me being this Devos, the powers that is in me might have been dormant. I wonder back when I was child I may have used my powers back then without even knowing it. I look back to Syril trying to see if she knows a way to control my powers.

“Syril?” I say.

“Yes.” She responds.

“Do you know how I can control my demonic side?” I ask.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not the person you should be telling this to.” She says while showing a sincere look from her face.

“What you mean?”I ponder.

  “I’m an oracle.”She says.

  An oracle?! From escaping from a demon to learning I myself is one, now she is another supernatural being; an oracle. What I read from myths, oracles are practitioners of vision. They see into the future and set out omens for those who are part of their visions.

 “Why should I trust you?” I ask worryingly.

 “You can’t. All you can do is to trust me.” She responds.

 “Can you see…my future?” I ask.

 And suddenly her green eyes turn pure white and it is like she is in a trance. I wave my left hand to her face to sense she probably saw that. However, she practically is not moving any part of her face nor body ever since she her eyes turned white. She is a statue you normally see near fountains or by governmental buildings.

 Then like it was half of a minute, her white eyes return back to the shade of green.

 “Syril?!” I say.

 She rapidly closes her eyes and opens them back up. “I have seen your future, Caden.” She says.

  I’m pausing for excitement or at least anything except feeling in a state of confusion which I have been in the past four hours.

  “Your future is…unclear.” She states.

  “Unclear?” I say as my head nods down to think on what she means of my future being unclear. I look back at her once more. “Why my future is unclear?”

  “Your future has yet to be written.” She says.

  “Please tell me something that I can look forward to like will I have a successful career in law enforcement.” I say.

  “Your path is unknown, Caden. That is all I can say about your future.” She says.

  “What can you say?” I ask.

 “This does not reflect your main path, but you will learn more about who you really are.” She replies.

   Exactly what Dantailon wrote about the trials instructing me completing those trials will make me know more about myself. Even Mal mentioned that.

   “But that is not all; I can tell you about the trails.”  She states.

   “Tell me.” I say.

  “Each one will follow the next.” She says.

  “What?” I ponder about that confusing riddle; I wonder Mal may know more than he is telling me. What I’m going to say to my mother. I want to ask Syril one last question. I put my head back up, yet when I try to see her she disappears without a trace.

***

 I see mother’s purple bag on top of the table, but when I check her room and near the kitchen she is not there. I even check the backyard, looking out through the backdoor window observing the grassy field and the boarded fence. So seeing she is not here, I hear beep-beep, beep-beep noises from my iPhone ringing in my pocket. I pick it out and notice those noises came for incoming messages. I view the phone screen where my mom texted me an interesting message.

MOM

Sorry I’m not there. I’m at Nick’s. Be back around 7.

If you’re hungry, go ahead and fix yourself something to eat before dinner.

 Why is mom spending her time at Nick anyway? Something about that Nick is not right. He seems to have great demeanor and tries to have a good heart for my mom, but he does not fool me. One thing mom is right about; I’m hungry.  I decide to fix my “good lunch”—my PB&J Banana Carmel sandwich. I head near the refrigerator grabbing the peanut butter jar, grape jelly jar, caramel jar, and four banana slices.

 I lay them on the counter. I reach atop of the fridge to grab the bread. I untwist the little twister that was enclosing the bread bag; I open it up to grab two slices. I lay them on a clean plate I got from the dishwasher, and as well a knife. I layered the peanut butter on the bottom bread, jelly next, and then the caramel. After that, I layered the four banana slices then the top bread.  Wallahi!

 I take two huge bites to the sides trying to get to that gooey part. Chewing it, it never ceased to amaze me the combined taste of bananas, peanut butter, caramel and jelly can do to a sixteen year old’s stomach. I wonder if my demon side is enjoying it as well, because I know I am.

   Then I hear a voice.

  “You call that food?”

  I ponder on where that voice is coming from, but as I step forward to the hallway, it seems it is coming from my room. I enter still holding my sandwich in my right hand. There I see the voice came from none other than Mal.

  “Mal!”

  “Nice to see you again kid.”

  “Thank goodness you are here because we need to talk.”

  “Alright, but first what is up with that sandwich. What is that?”

  “It’s my ‘good lunch’.”

 “Excuse me?”

 “My ‘good lunch’; what I mean by that is that my mom wanted me to eat healthy, so while I always fix my PB&J, I added bananas and caramel to give it that ‘good’ quality.” And after that, I take another big bite out of the sandwich getting the proteins and carbs mom wants me to have.

 “So Caden, I know you are enjoying your good lunch, but you read that entry didn’t you.”

 “I did, but...”  I put the rest of the sandwich nearby a book on top of my desk. As Mal views it very disturbing, I see it as to me my own type of etiquette. Knowing I got a few more bites, I decide to hold off and just talk with Mal a bit. “I was attacked.”

  “Attacked?! By who?” He asks.

  “A demon named Purson.”  I respond.

  Mal taking a step back seemingly he sort of knew about him or something.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “So those hellhounds were just a distraction for that hellion attack?” He responds a bit agitated.

   “There’s more.” I say.

   “What is it?” He says.

  “I’m a Devos. Everything Dantailon wrote about the Devos; it was me.” I state.

   He startled a bit; “I wanted to tell you.” He says.

   “Because is it true?”I say it back.

   “Yes!” He responds.

      After hearing it from him, it is official. I’m a Devos. I’m a demon—half-demon actually, but a demon nonetheless. I glance back at Mal.

  “Why you didn’t tell me about this earlier.” I say.

 “Because I kept a promise you should know when the right time truly came.” He says.

 “I don’t know what the wait is. I’m ready to know.” I say.

 “Did Purson tell you were a half-demon?” He asks.

 “No, Syril did.” I respond.

  “Syril?!” He answers very jumpy.

  “So you know Syril.” I say.

     “Yes, she’s a tricky being. Be careful around her. She may seem to be a good ally, but she could cost you your life for the Archdemon.” He says being cautious.

 “Archdemon; By any chance Asmodeus comes to your mind.” I say.

 “I do.” He says.

 “Why do you know about this so much?” I ask.

 “Because I’m a demon!” He states strongly.

 “No…you!” I say startled by the words he just said. I should have known by the knowledge he knows about Asmodeus, Syril, and a Devos. I cannot believe this person who known me since I was a baby is actually a demon. The way he looks, it is impossible to believe he is a demon. Looking back at Purson, I could see he was popping the black eyes to fully show there was no human in him.

   “Aris and Karina. Are they demons?”

  “Yes they are.”

  “So you knew all of this stuff. Why you didn’t tell me?” I ask.

   Looking like he is trying so hard to keep something back, “Because like I said, it was a promise I had to keep.”

    “To who? My mother?”

   “No!”He says strongly.

   “Who then?!” I ask.

    He pauses trying not to answer the question, but if I need the truth, I need to know who.

   “Who!” I yell.

   “Your father! He yells back. I kept that promise to your father to make sure you will know everything when the time is right. Guess the attack you faced earlier forced the timeline.” He says.

  “Wait a minute, my father. Who is my father?” I ask wanting to know who.

  “Caden…” He says.

  “Mal, please I need to know!” I say praying for the truth.

  Thinking he is still hesitating, I have an inkling feeling he is going to answer.

 “Dantailon…your father was Dantailon.” He says it finally to my surprise.