I … am very tired. That is, I think, my quintessential state of being. As the years crawl by my lethargy only increases, seemingly endlessly. Sometimes, at times like this when I am awake but have not yet opened my eyes, I ponder that fact. I wonder, am I a creature that fundamentally needs more rest as I grow older? It seems unlikely. Even though I'm like this, I am fairly knowledgeable, and I've never heard of a creature like that among any of the myriad species and subspecies of demons. Unfortunately it seems I probably can't blame my racial heritage it is much more likely to simply be a problem of personality. Even now I'm procrastinating my awakening, vaguely hopeful that if I just keep my eyes closed long enough I can once again slip away and into my dreams.

Sadly, I feel that that is impossible at this juncture. No one can sleep forever, dreams always end eventually and leave you to confront the world. Because I am alive sometimes I awake, it is one of the great unavoidable truths of the universe. Perhaps if I was dead it would be different. Some say death is an endless sleep but no one knows for sure so I'm not willing to risk it. What if after dying, I am forced to wakefulness again, in say … a land of clouds and harps? Or maybe a land fire and brimstone? Or, most terrifying of all, just being forced to start life anew? No thank you. I will have no part in any of those things. I must sadly resign myself to only being able to sleep the vast majority of the time. And also resign myself that this moment, right now, is not a part of that vast majority.

So reluctantly I opened my eyes, for the first time in … a long time. Around me the world had not changed, after all the massive columns of the throne room hewn from living stone millennia ago are nearly as ageless as I. The towering throne room doors are open – occasionally supplicants and the like use those doors but in truth I couldn't remember the last time I've seen them open. Furthermore, while the throne room is as massive as when I last opened my eyes it has fallen into a state of obvious disrepair, the everburning torches have been extinguished, one of the crystal chandeliers has fallen and is strewn about in a starburst of shattered crystal, the various ornaments and paintings that decorated the walls are missing, the throne room is desolate and empty. It seems my castle has been looted while I slept. Not a situation I have encountered before. How novel.

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Perhaps one of my subordinate demons decided to take advantage of my sleep? To loot my castle? That seems plausible. Though odd. My vague memories of the various demon clans that had built themselves around me, in an unending – and very demonlike - cycle of rises to power and falls from grace, painted them as very loyal fellows. Fanatically so even. For as long as I can remember I have lived in this castle, lording over my lands, while inferior creatures scurried about my feet delivering tributes and begging my blessings. In fact, this is the first time I can remember not being greeted by some sniveling supplicant immediately upon waking – begging for some blessing for this clan or that clan who had faithfully served for hundreds of years. Sometimes I obliged. Most times I didn't. It's such a waste of energy to interact with such creatures after all. And even if you tell me you've faithfully served for a thousand years – how am I supposed to know if that's true? Such creatures with their tiny powers are all so alike in all aspects – how am I supposed to differentiate? Why am I supposed to care?

That aside, this situation is new. This situation is different. It's new and it's novel. Almost enough to make me want to move around a bit – find out what's happened. There was a time I would have been furious at the absence of my subordinates but as I've grown older it seems I've stopped caring. In my youth perhaps my blood would have boiled and I would have been compelled to go out, find the disobedient children, kill them, and then claim their children as my new subordinates. Or maybe just kill them all and allow some other group of parasites to attach themselves to me. In this way, I've always had people willing to handle the mundane day to day year to year and century to century running of my domain. But if my throne room is empty – indeed if my castle is empty as my senses easily confirm – it seems someone else entirely has decided to take my duties as lord of this place onto themselves. Honestly, I can't say I care. If anything all this excitement has only made me more tired and if my castle is empty my subordinates likely all got themselves killed so it's not like there will be anyone to complain if I just … go back to sleep.