He placed his claws on the keys. Not to summon fire, or to break minds, but to play the Nocturne in C-sharp minor . His fingers, built to tear spines, moved with a gentleness that would have shocked Heaven.
But that was before the Silence.
"I still make them weep," Asmodeus said, his voice soft. "Just not for the same reason." sad satan ost
"I remember when you used to make popes weep," a gravelly voice said.
A century ago, God stopped listening. The prayers of the faithful grew hollow, then stopped. Without divine attention, Hell lost its purpose. The torture became boring. The sinners stopped screaming and simply stared at the walls. The other demons grew fat and lethargic, their malice curdling into a deep, existential boredom. He placed his claws on the keys
"That," he said, his fingers still pressing the two sad notes, "is the sound of God forgetting you. Not hating you. Not punishing you. Just… forgetting. It’s colder than any lake of ice."
Belial stared at the piano. The single, repeating interval echoed off the empty walls. For the first time in a thousand years, the fallen angel felt a shiver that wasn't from the cold, but from a terrifying truth: they hadn't won Hell. They had simply built a smaller, lonelier prison. But that was before the Silence
It was Belial, once a great duke, now a skeleton in a moth-eaten tuxedo. His eyes were hollow.
Asmodeus played on. The rain stopped. The only sound in all of Hell was that sad, simple, perfect little gap between two notes. And in that gap, Asmodeus was the loneliest being in creation.
He began a new melody. A single, repetitive note, like a dripping faucet in an abandoned hospital. Then a second note, a minor third, creating a tiny, aching gap. He played the gap over and over.
The piano wept.