“We bound him in our blood, and by the ancient words the old man spoke, we brought him back to life. He is us, now, and we are many. The old gods were slain while man still dreamed, but some remember the visions of humanity’s infancy.”
“And is there not yet something older?” I asked. “Before the novelties of demons grew stale, when your prince first fashioned his crown, was there not yet something more ancient still?”
“And who would know?”
“Who set the pillars of the sky and carved in them things no man may know? Who filled the deep and drowned your precious gods in a flood? Who even now has crafted a likeness on earth, a self-portrait, that you and your old man defile?”
“God has abandoned us.”
“Or we have abandoned him,” I said. “But there is no going back. Your master is a has-been. He was a cliché before you were born. It’s all been tried before; it’s all been wanting. Even if you renew this ancient fad—the Pact of Blood, are you calling it?—you’ll grow tired of it. That’s always the way with demons. They only have one trick, a nasty one, but humans long for so much more. Your hunger is infinite. Can you feed it on these scorched bones, this husk, this leftover? Your god is nothing more than a discarded angel, burnt up by envy and pride, a small time crook in a gang busted up long ago. He wasn’t even important enough to arrest.” I sigh, staring at the young cultist with his childlike eyes. “He gives you nothing,” I add. “He only exists because he’s latched onto your attention like a leech. Your old man knows this. He’s half a demon himself, by now, running the same scam. All his power comes from you, from your belief in him.”
“We have bound him in our blood,” the cultist repeats quietly. “We will be the masters of the new world.”
“For how long? There will be a new one after yours, and one after that, and on and on—it never ends. One rebellion leads into the next and no order is ever established but that’s it’s already dead. Until you go back to first principles, you’ll never find anything to stand on, anything living. The greatest rebellion, at this point, would be to stop rebelling.”
“You can’t stop us. I’m just a small part in a grand scheme. Things are moving that you can’t understand.”
I nod.
“I know more than you think. I was there when the first pillar fell. I know I can’t stop the fall, I can’t stop what’s coming, but maybe I can stop you, can catch you…if you’ll take my hand. Maybe you’ll hear me. That’s the real revolution, the only thing worth saving in a burning house, a soul.”
Tale Told 
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