Before anyone noticed, his tail had her on the floor, sucking her neck. When he screamed, the wolves came and swiftly subdued the tail, and the elders prevented the poison from spreading to her heart, but Odiva remained in a coma for weeks with an open wound in her neck that refused to heal.

Everything changed from then on. What was once admiration, or perhaps a form of love, became something that could only be rejected, something repulsive, even among demons.

New rumours started: Even if he is the son of Satan, that tail is much too reckless! It discriminates against no one! It even attacked his own mother! The boy has no pulse to control it, what kind of demon king is he going to be if his tail continues to attack randomly? What kind of demon can't even control his own pet-demon?!

He was old enough to understand fear when he saw it, old enough to see blame, and hate in the glances his father spared him, and pity from his older brother. He was resolute in his numbness to it all. His mother would open her eyes soon, and all would be well again. It had been an accident after all. She would say so herself, as she often did when the tail had attacked others. He only wished that she would visit him in his dreams, like she did when he was having a nightmare. She would tell him all would be alright and that there was no nightmare without an end. But she never came. Instead, she just kept her eyes closed.

Months passed, and he still refused to leave her bedside, even as he was under the strict supervision of the elders, and the wolf guards. Satan had ordered it so. The tail could no longer be allowed further damage.

When his mother at long last woke, she greeted him with a withdrawn gaze he had never seen on her before. He knew the look on other people, but not her. Was she scared of him?

He knew it to be true when she recoiled from his touch.

Immersed in despair, that night Leviathan would rid himself of his curse. On his own terms! He wouldn't wait for the elders' whatever solution anymore; he was certain his method would work. During dinner, in a rare moment of distraction from his wolf guards, he stole a sharp knife from the dining hall and took it to his room.

The next morning, the wolf that usually came to wake him found spattered pools of blood leading to his bed. Besides being covered in blood, his eyes red and sore, his cheeks streaked with tears and blood, Levi was unharmed. The tail too was intact. As it would be, only the knife he had stolen suffered the worst fate, as its blade was chipped, and broken in half.

It was days later when Odiva finally called for him. He had hoped for warmth, a glimpse of forgiveness, but right away he sensed it. Her eyes glittered strangely; her body seemed rigid, unable to hold him without trembling. She would not be at ease unless they ensured his tail was restrained with some new contraption the elders concocted. Perhaps she even tried her best to overcome her fears, but it would never be the same between them, he knew.

With Satan away, focused on Beelzebub’s training, Leviathan was left on his own to discover this new shackling feeling called loneliness.

***

Odiva’s recovery was slow. Her wound, though it finally healed, left a pronounced scar. The elders could not explain such a phenomenon, but it fuelled their scientific curiosity further, probing, testing him endlessly, most times forgetting he had just turned six years old.

In his dejected state, Leviathan found he did not care what they did, at least the elders were still keen to be around him. He no longer ate, no longer slept regular hours. Instead, he wracked his brain on how to get rid of the tail. He spoke when only spoken to, withdrawing more into himself. Overtime, his rosy complexion vanished giving room to a gaunt and pale figure; a shell of his former self. To avoid the scrutinies from the elders and the wolves, he took to wearing his royal mask all the time. No one else took particular notice.

Lucious was born not long after that.

He would hear people’s distant whispers: The child prodigy is born! Such an intellect even as just a babe! What a joy to be around! Hard to believe he is Leviathan’s brother. He will surely be the next in line to the throne.

Leviathan too, wasn't immune to his baby brother's spell. He fell in love after just one look. Naturally, this had only been allowed at a safe distance and with his tail fully restrained. It was then that he made a silent promise to himself. He would look out for Lucious, protect him, make sure he continued to enjoy his good fortune, because, eventually, he would grow a tail too, and then he too would be hated by everyone. This frail babe would never be able to handle that.

His mother even favoured him a warm smile just as he sealed his promise. So she still listened in on his thoughts. She hadn’t smiled at him like that since before the accident. He was on the right path. This was to be his new purpose, and it filled him with excitement: he would protect his brother from the worse that was to come. Perhaps even regain some of his mother's affection by doing so.

Over the years however, no tail came.

Instead, Lucious thrived in what should have been Leviathan’s life, had it not been his cursed tail. Whilst he spent his days with the elders being researched, Lucious learnt sword fighting with Beelzebub and the ways of the Colours from the elders. While he shared his meals with his wolf guards in the kitchens, Lucious took up his seat in the Hall next to their father. Their own mother looked at, and held Lucious with the same warmth she had for him once. While he was living unseen, unwanted, in the shadows, Lucious, or rather, Lucifer, was rising brightly to his given name, and to become the most loved prince of Hell.

Despite it all, it was still hard to hate him. Blissfully unaware of the good fortune he had stolen, Lucious was a happy and curious child who loved both his brothers more than anything. He couldn’t reason it, but Leviathan knew that he looked up to him, admired him even. At every chance, Lucious would chase him around with a flurry of questions:

‘Levi, why are you always with the elders?’

‘Levi, when are you joining us for dinner?’

‘Levi, why don’t you come train with me and Beel?’

‘Why are you so skinny, Levi?’ or ‘Leviiii, make your tail talk, pleeaassse?’

The boy had no boundaries with him. No one besides the elders dared to mention his tail, but there he was, this little brat, trying to touch it, play with it as if it was a stuffed toy. Even the tail seemed to succumb to his charms, lacking the will to attack him. Try as he might, Levi’s taciturn front always crumbled at Lucious’ feet.

So what changed?

Perhaps his father’s expectations, or maybe even his own ambition that eventually took over. Overcoming the final Test would be his opportunity to still become something. Out of the three brothers, he was the most lethal, arguably the most powerful. He wanted to be seen, to be wanted! There was no choice. So he pulled away from the silly brotherly distractions, and threw himself into training and research to regain control of his life.

His chance came when they lost Beelzebub. In a way, that day they lost Lucious too, as he allowed his father to see what he loathed the most: weakness.

The pain of losing Beelzebub hit him hard. Seeing his mother’s tears as she cried Beelzebub’s name made his heart ache, but by then, he was a master at disguising his true feelings, and the devil watched what came next. If Satan hated weakness, he would show him nothing but strength. Perhaps he could save Beelzebub when he became king.

For the years that followed, Leviathan broke free from the shadows and forged his own light. He gave the weakened Lucious no break, provoking him at every turn, springing challenges and attacks at every chance. He couldn't risk Lucious rising to greatness again. They were rivals now, not brothers. He trained not only to control his tail but also to improve his weakened body. He took to the old ways and drank the essence of souls and grew stronger.

The transformation took everyone by surprise, but there was no longer hate or fear in their eyes. He exuded confidence, controlled unpredictability, and an unapologetic passion for his demonic nature. For that, the people loved him once more, drawn to his devious smile, like bees to a thorny flower’s sweet nectar.