Dark Favor
Writing Prompt: A world where the main religion worship the Seven Princes of Hell as benevolent forces
The crowd roared as the tempo picked up again, and the speakers blared all the louder. With zealous fury and worship, the band reached the crescendo of their metal song, and their divine favor began to show. The lead singer’s voice became deeper as he released a guttural scream, and then he sang his lyrics with newfound power. The hands of the bassist elongated and strung the strings wickedly, and the drummer grew in his seat until he towered above his cymbals. With each note and word sung, the crowd praised and worshiped fervently, elated from the first signs that the Princes were pleased.
The singer grabbed the mike while knocking the stand aside, and he thrusted his fist into the air. With a resounding note, he sang the final chorus with a demonic reverberation. The auditorium erupted at signs of horns sprouting from his head, and the shouts grew even wilder from the spectacle.
Then, reaching the final note, the band ceased, and they stood panting in the adoration that befell them. Within the deafening noise of cheering, each player tensed their hands and exhaled in adrenalized joy, relishing the moment while their Prince still touched them with their power. Shortly, the demonic transformations began to reverse, and together, the band bowed before their audience.
“Another round of applause for the Demon Heralds!” screamed a man over a microphone. The crowd eagerly obliged, and they cheered all the louder as the players left with ecstatic smiles. “Better keep an eye out for them, folks. By the looks of those blessings, theses prodigies will be selling albums in no time!”
While the announcer spewed remarks of the performance, the crowd fell into a murmur as they talked amongst themselves, sharing their favorite bands of the night and who had the coolest ‘favor’ from below. With twelve bands down, only one was left to perform. The excitement in wonder of what the last performance might be was unanimous. With such a large annual event frequently staring upcoming artists, it is no wonder that the legendary musicians of the modern world originate here; the opening stage for the world to hear one’s unique music of worship. Like the Demon Heralds who had just played a metal song recounting the epic powers that be, commonalities are expected. Musicians would often pick a specific Prince, while group bands trended towards having exactly seven members for each Prince. The songs always bespoke of the awesome and terrible power their Lords wielded, and so it became that the modern bard had become one of the most influential and popular positions in the world.
But man had been playing the music of demons for centuries, and it’s easy to forget the ballads and tributes of the past.
The lights suddenly dimmed, and the audience became quiet. A single light appeared over the center of the stage, and all eyes stared in unblinking curiosity. Before them was an empty stage. There were no microphones, no instruments, and no stereos to be seen. Then, the echoes of footsteps on wooden boards reached their ears, and a young man slid into the spotlight.
The lad sported a plain outfit, casual wear one would wear to school. However, what stood out to the audience was not his lack of demonic themed apparel, but the large, feathered piper’s hat that was clearly too large for his head, and the wooden violin he cusped in his shoulder. He stared out into the crowd, his one eye peeking out from beneath the velvet of his hat.
A few chuckles drifted across the stage, and smirks were shared. Yet, the boy’s gaze was unwavering, and soon the gigglers quieted at the intensity in his stare. With so many performances in one night, the stage had become charged with otherworldly energy, adding a weight to the air like a veil that boy could feel.
He raised his bow, took a deep breath, and he began to play.
The soft music rang sweetly through auditorium, sounding no louder than a whisper at first, yet clear as a bell. People’s chins lifted as they stared in fixation, and their chests felt lighter as they listened. It was a soft music, beautiful and enchanting in a way that catches the soul of the listener, and speaks of the soul of the musician. As the boy played, there never arose shouts of cheer, nor cries, screams, or roaring support. There was simply the dreamlike music, weaving through the air as if it was working through the very firmaments themselves.
Eying the crowd beneath his hat, the boy kept his diligent tempo, and he exhaled in humbly. With no words or symbols to show his praise, the boy drew the crowd closer, as well as the attention of the Princes.
The music changed its tone, and so too did the crowd begin to change their forms. With smooth transitions, inhuman traits appeared in the faces of the crowd. Noses elongated, fur grew across the body, and hooves appeared on those who had come barefoot in respect to traditions. For those whose deepest desires were uniquely theirs, they received appropriate changes. Horns for those wishing for dominance, fangs for yearning pleasure, and a host of other aspects, each tailored for the heart that swayed within the music.
When all the crowd had change, and a lone boy played before a crowd of demonically touched listeners, the music became fuller, and the notes rang clearer. The transformations were a sobering process, but the audience was not startled or alarm by this fact. Instead, they focused intently on the boy and his music, savoring a moment none of them had ever expected to experience.
It was becoming clear that this was no longer an ordinary concert, and that the boy would go on from this one concert into the world, a rising star that must be heard. As if to commemorate the occasion, the growing presence of the Seven Princes could be felt. Whatever method the boy used, whatever desire he held in his heart, his music was unlike any musician in recorded history, and it was complemented with powers yet seen. For despite the sensations that emanated from his and his violin, he remained fully human, divinely charged by the Seven Princes.
A flurry of emotions filled each listener, and they all gazed ahead at dreams that manifested within them. Dreams full of wonders and terrors, spectacles that spoke to each part of humanity.
This music was not the worship of the Princes, or prayer for their benevolence. No, this music was reminiscent what Giuseppe Tartini once dreamed; man did not play music for demons, but rather demons played music for man. For man’s dreams of his desires, and it is demons who reveal paths to one’s heart.
When all is said and done, when the music stops and the crowd returns to normal, lives will be changed henceforth. For no matter how awesome a power might be, the sounds you dream will move you in strange ways. No matter how many paths demons might show before you, it is the free will of man that decides where his path shall lead.