Constantine strolled solemnly through the empty arena, pouring over the hours he spent honing his body for the trial that awaited him.

  Running had been the worst part of it. Constantine’s endurance had always been poor since his troubled youth, but ever since Azazel’s shot him in the left thigh, there remained a constant dull pain in his leg everytime he walked. A small painful weakness, a reminder with every step of his failure to protect the one so dear to him. Countless painful hours spent running laps around the court, his sweat pouring from his forehead, each breath echoing that lingering doubt in his mind. Nathaniel and Insect made sure to focus on his stamina during his training. The rest of their training, gaining strength, learning to fight, sharpening his mind and reflexes, all came with greater ease.

  Now I could probably run a marathon with ease. He thought with a smirk. Never thought lazy old me could be capable of something like that.

  He touched one of the nearby wooden dummies, almost giving it a head pat. It was so pristine and new when he had arrived, and now everything was damaged, used, coated in his blood and sweat. This particular dummy was a bit luckier, having been one of the first he trained on. Constantine clenched his fist around his holy dagger, staring at its crimson hilt. With a flick, the dagger extended into its lance form. His eyes glinted with determination, and a desire to test himself.

  He stabbed towards the dummy’s head once, an indirect strike, meant to disarm the opponent for his followup. He spun in place, grabbing the spear with his other hand and thrusting forward with its spiked pommel. Like a seesaw, he attacked the dummy with the pommel and blade for a couple strikes, his hands and muscles moving as fast as they could. His body bore many cuts and wounds from his training, but now he and the weapon were one. He spun it around him, the blade dancing over and under his shoulders, around his waist even around his neck.

  The spear made a thousand deep slices into the dummy as Constantine danced around it. As his pirouette ran out of momentum, Constantine caught his weapon and jumped back while aiming straight for the dummy. The lance flew through the air, dead on its mark, but it passed right through like a phantom. While Constantine’s body still floated backward mid-jump, he dove back into the strange other realm. His mind and soul felt attuned to this place. No longer did he feel cripplingly weak or sick when he left it.

  Somehow, that notion doesn’t make me feel too reassured. His thoughts raced as he opened his eyes and sought out his dagger in that ocean of darkness. He dashed forward towards it, the only light that shone in that place. It still remained as if it was embedded into the ground, but there was no resistance as he picked it up. When his hand touched it, he felt the now familiar pull of the physical realm. Light and sound and color faded back in. He knew exactly where he was, behind the dummy. As he fully materialized back into the natural world, he spun once again, aiming his lance at the base of the dummy’s head. It was a clean slash. The dummy’s head flew off as his body came to a stand-still. He watched it float in the air and drop on the ground close to where he was moments ago. Constantine saw the faded edges of his body, still lingering mid-jump, slowly begin to dissipate like a spectre in mist.

  “You’ve gotten quite good at that haven’t you, Constantine?” A familiar voice called out from behind.

  “Is it already time to go Sean?” He replied without turning around yet. Constantine kept his eyes glued on the dummy’s neck, a tinge of frustration crawling through him. Still not perfect, just a hair too deep…

  “Yeah. I’ve come to pick you up. Man, it’s so weird whenever you use that dagger. For a second after you… teleport… there’s two of you.”

  “You can see me when I move through the other realm? When I use this power, its not instantaneous. Time slows down, and darkness begins to swallow my senses, but I have a few precious seconds where the world freezes and I can still see and move.”

  “That sounds… quite horrific.” Sean confessed with a sigh. “And no, I only see your after-image where you were and then... you, when you appear again.”

  “I’ve gotten much better, learning how to move in those few seconds...” Constantine said, inspecting the writing etched into his dagger’s handle. “Nathan said whenever I use it, my soul gets separated from my body, and that’s why. When I come back it takes reality a second to realign or something... Who knows though, even he seemed unsure.”

  “If he’s right though, you might wanna be careful. Carrying around a weapon that screws with space and time like that... who knows what sort of trouble you can get into? But anyway! Why are you still skulking around this place? What’s wrong, you getting nostalgic for Insect throwing you into the dirt again?” Sean asked with a smirk.

  “Yeah actually, it reminded me of when Katherine would wipe the floor with me instead. I can’t believe I’m getting nostalgic for getting my ass handed to me.” Constantine smiled, moving away from the earlier subject.

  “Well be careful you don’t get a fetish or something…” Sean laughed.

  Constantine finally turned around, his expression one of disdain and dejection. “Don’t... joke about that.” He couldn’t help but chuckle as well.

  “Hahaha, sorry, sorry. But yes, we should get going. Its a long trip to the desert.”

  “Pfss... I can’t believe this day’s actually here. It feels… like forever passed. I’ve been training for so long I never actually thought it would ever end.”

  “Oh yeah!” Sean perked up. “Thanks for reminding me, here’s the Death Rose back.” He said, pulling out the occult revolver and handing it over. Constantine placed it in the holster on his belt. “I haven’t finished the modification you asked for yet but-”

  “Its fine Sean.” Constantine interrupted him, nodding graciously. “If anything happens to me in that prison… I want you to give it to him, a gift from me.”

  “I will.” The man said solemnly. “Although… hopefully if something does happen to you in Dudael, they’ll at least get the gun back. I kinda need it for...”

  “I mean, if I die in there I’d hope that someone recovers my body at the very least!” Constantine sighed before he burst into morbid laughter.

  The two of them joked around for a bit. Their joyous mood continued as they made their way towards the church from where they would soon depart. Perhaps their jubilant disposition was not appropriate for the seriousness of the situation, but Constantine did not care. He believed that in moments like these, remembering to laugh and joke in the face of death was the only way to persevere. Despite his true feelings being otherwise, he pushed himself to appear somewhat happy.

  It’s been too long since I’ve genuinely smiled. Constantine thought, forcing himself to awkwardly grin.

  It did not take long for the two of them to reach the hilltop. There, a whole party had gathered, waiting for them. Five large cars in a row surrounded by a lot of people Constantine didn’t recognize. First and last two seemed like regular black jeeps, while the third was a specially modified large truck. The truck’s bed had been improved with some comfortable seats on the side. Additionally, there was a skeletal metal frame placed over the top of the truck, and Constantine noticed that it could be expanded to provide a roof if necessary.

  I’m guessing that’s where Uriel and I will be for this ride?

  “Caramel’s men.” Sean answered, sensing the confusion in his gaze. “And some folks from around Venandis.”

  “I suppose at this point it doesn’t matter if they see Uriel.” Constantine whined to himself.

  “No you stupid Imp, it doesn’t. They have greater things to worry about.” Madame Léstrava said, approaching him.

  “Nice of you to lead us off Ma’am. I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea seeing her… that’s all.”

  “What idea, of you and her being great saviors? Yeah, we’ll see about that. These people are smart, they won’t start believing in fairy tales just cause a supposed angel walks among them.”

  “Speak of the angel… Do you want something Erika?”

  Madame was taken aback by the rudeness of his tone and comment, but she just smirked and continued. “I am indeed here to see you two off.” Madame said, but she then walked closer to Constantine, pulling him harshly by the arm and whispering in his ear. Her voice had a subtle tremble, a worry that she tried to bury deep in her chest, but could not shake.

  “How nice of you.” He said with an awkward smile.

  “You ignored my warnings when you first arrived here, so heed them now. I never wished any ill will on you or your friends, Constantine, despite what you might believe. The shadows that clung to you then are growing larger with each passing day, but what scares me most is that they are nothing compared to what I see in Uriel’s fractured heart. There is a hunger within her Constantine, driven by fear and doubt. Please be careful, for your sake but especially for her’s.” Madame’s words pierced into his thoughts, the emphasis she placed on the word ‘please’ sending a chill through Constantine’s heart. She was begging him, pleading in a manner completely unlike her. “I fear what will happen in that damned pit, but I am powerless to stop either of you now. I trained her as best as I could, but some part of me still believes that I’ve made the wrong choice in doing so. Perhaps my teachings will only lead you both down this doomed path. Perhaps I should have never allowed you two to come here. But now it is too late to take back my choices. Do not make me regret them.”

  “Wait… you-” He began asking, but Madame interrupted him by moving away and turning to Sean.

  “What’re you looking at Spindle, don’t you have some rations to check? It’s a long trip and I wouldn't want you all to starve before you even get there. You won’t find fast food in a desert.”

  “Or… anywhere else.” Sean chuckled awkwardly, understanding what was being demanded of him. “I-I’ll leave.”

  “I swear to you, Madame…” Constantine began when he was out of earshot. “I’ll keep Uriel safe, no matter what, I swear on my life.”

  Madame sweetly caressed Constantine’s cheek, looking at him with soft eyes. “That’s what worries me most.”

  Before Constantine could question her unusual kindness, Jacob’s cries rang out throughout the courtyard. The two of them walked closer, seeing the young child clutching Sean’s leg stopping him from getting inside one of the cars. The child seemed incredibly distraught over his father’s approaching departure. Tears streamed down his face and no matter how hard Sean tried to pacify him, he wouldn’t stop crying. All of the people surrounding them had a pained expression that revealed both quiet understanding and soft pity. Then there came a flapping of wings, their dark shadow covering the already clouded gray sun. Constantine watched Uriel lean down and speak with the child, before getting closer to discern what she was saying.

  “...Come now Jacob, nothing will happen to anyone, and especially not to your father.” She said softly.

  “Y-you don’t know that!” Jacob whined. “Matilda said her mom said the mission was going to be a d-disaster!”

  “Well… I don’t know what you might have heard, but your dad won’t be in any danger!”

  “Yeah! Listen to Uriel, Jake. I won’t even get close to any fighting, they just need me to drive them to the place. I’m the only one that knows where it is.” Sean intervened trying to help out.

  “Besides, your dad’s got me protecting everyone! I’m a powerful angel, remember? And I’ve only gotten stronger lately... I hope...” Uriel said triumphantly, the last few words trailing off into a whisper. Constantine noticed, chuckling lightly with reassurance. “No, no hope! I know I’ve gotten stronger lately.” Uriel said, noticing him and turning towards him with a smile. Between them, a small leaf blew in the wind. Uriel’s eyes followed it, an idea forming within her mind. Constantine saw the flashes of a pale memory shining in her eyes.

  “F-for really?” Jacob asked.

  She hesitated for a moment, still focused on her thoughts. “Y-yes! Here!” Uriel clasped her hands together, a bright yellow light shining between her fingers. Jacob, and most of the people around her, were all staring intently. She closed her eyes, and the glow intensified, before fading away. Uriel then pulled away her hand, revealing a small golden sparrow made of pure light. The construct was made of simplistic shapes, and if one happened to look at it from certain angles, it seemed to almost fade into invisibility, but it was undeniably alive. It flew towards Jacob, landing on his left shoulder. He reached up to touch it, his eyes shining with wonder and leftover tears, but his finger passed through the bird entirely.

  “Its… still made of light Jacob. I’ve been practicing, trying to make other things aside from swords and shields… but the more complex I try to make a thing, the less… corporeal it is.” Uriel rambled a bit, unsure if she was talking to Jacob, Sean, or Constantine now. “Anyway! It’s yours. My gift to you. As long as you have that bird, it means I’m alive, and as long as I’m alive, your dad is safe!”

  “T-thank you so much Uriel! I’ll take good care of it! I’ll... name it… I don’t… know what to name it…” He said, pouting.

  “How about Lux?” Uriel suggested.

  “No.. that sucks…” Jacob said quietly. Uriel hung her head down in response, her disappointment draped like a blank mask over her face.

  “How about BrightBeak?” Constantine chirped in, patting Uriel on the back. Jacob looked at him for a moment, before his mouth opened up wide.

  “Yes! That sounds super cool! Thank you Constantine!” He said.

  “Alright then, feel better kiddo? Oh c’mere.” Sean said, giving him a tight hug. “Now, off to Madame you go. Take care of the bird, yeah? I wanna see it big and strong when I get back.”

  “That was nice of you…” Constantine said, siding up next to Uriel on the hood of the car as Sean took his son back to Madame.

  “You too. See, you don’t have to scare the kids all the time...”

  “You mean, like you did?” Constantine joked and faked a pout, trying to lighten the mood. “I took a look in the back of the truck, Nathaniel really prepared a kingly trip for us huh? Food for everyone, plenty of water, we even have sleeping bags, medicine and a bunch of other supplies I didn’t even recognize.”

  “Makes sense, the last thing he wants is for us to be in poor conditions for the fight ahead.”

  “I just hope we can repay all this kindness one day…” He said, his voice drowning in worry.

  “We will Constantine, we made a promise. To help them, and we’ll stick to it.”

  “Ohaa, you better.” Damien laughed, startling both as he approached. “Time to go, little swans, I hope you said your goodbyes to any friends you might have made here, ‘cause we might not make it back.”

  “Are we leaving without Insect and Nathaniel?” Uriel asked.

  “They actually left earlier to make sure everything’s in order. They’re actually waiting for us just outside of town along with a few of my men. We leave in five, so go claim your seat.” The masked man said cheerfully, making his way back to his own vehicle.

  With a sigh, Uriel and Constantine waved to Madame, jumped inside the truck, and were on their way. A small amount of time later, after driving through the town, they were joined by Insect and Nathaniel in the same vehicle. Constantine breathed a sigh of relief at the prospect of having additional company on this long ride. Despite this, the first day was spent in almost complete silence for the whole duration of the ride. There was a pressing sadness and fear in the atmosphere, and no one seemed intent on fighting against it.

  “Look! In the distance. There’s a small city.” Uriel called out, waking everyone from their haze of mind-numbing boredom. “Its so empty… so eerie.” She commented.

  “Eerie, perhaps, but empty? Not at all, Darling.” Nathaniel said, wheeling himself closer to her. “Look closer.”

  Constantine peered his eyes on the horizon. The sun had started to hang lower in the sky, so the light was growing dimmer with each passing second. Still, he managed to spot what Nathaniel was pointing out.

  “Wights.” He said solemnly. “A whole pack of them. Pack? Swarm? What’s even the right term?”

  “I don’t believe there is one… Swarm does sound appropriate.” Nathaniel chuckled.

  “What are they, Nathaniel?” Constantine asked. “I saw one up close when we went back to the city in the first few days. It was a young woman, still holding her dead child. She was all… stone-like. Kept mumbling. Wrath put her out of her misery.”

  “Well… she got lucky then, died before she lost all that made her human. As to their nature… its all to do with death. Death is a necessary aspect of life. These damned creatures, they are… infected. A virulent plague not of the body but of the soul. Their bodies then waste away, but instead of dying and passing on their souls remain trapped inside. While they still have some humanity in them, they are called wights, as you know. But after enough time, their flesh begins to calcify and petrify, crystallize into rock and salt. They become these ghoulish husks that unknowingly seek to spread their corruption. Those are terrible Wraiths, and they are beyond any salvation. Putting them out of their misery is the best we can do, but unfortunately we cannot afford such distractions now. There will be time another day.” Nathaniel said, his voice soft and intonation low. He spoke slowly, as if remembering a past he wished to forget.

  “Wights, wraiths… I see.” Constantine frowned. “Couldn’t you guys have picked less similar names?”

  “How do you know this?” Uriel asked curiously, leaving his question unanswered.

  Nathaniel sighed, the desire to not have been asked that question clear on his face. “Years ago, long before you were even born Constantine, me, Damien, Lily and a few others were sent to deal with a small remote village out on the Island of Rilliat.”

  “Rilli... what?” Uriel mumbled softly. “I don’t know that place.”

  “Rilliat is an island on another continent far to the east from here. Its a wonderful place. Weather is always warm, but not too hot. Waters are crystal clear and the salty smell of the sea fills your nostrils everywhere you go. Well, that and the smell of the delicious cuisine there. Smoky roasted fish drenched in garlic and lemon served with white wine and along with a serving of fresh juicy fruits like apricots and-”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Oh-okay Nate, we got the idea.” Constantine said, annoyed and with a rumbling stomach full of canned soup.

  “That sounds lovely. Perhaps we can go there someday, Constantine.” Uriel said alight with hope.

  “If the place is still standing, who knows.” He said bluntly.

  “But yes, they requested our help and our party was sent there.” Nathaniel continued. “The local bishop had been having issues with one of their clergymen. Dubious rumors and strange happenings. Killings, disappearances, supernatural sightings. Unnatural occurrences all over the island. It got quite bad if they called people across the globe to deal with it, hah.” He grinned, but his smile faded immediately. “One of the priests discovered an old tome in some ruins on the island. His mind was warped by what was written there, and he began kidnapping people, experimenting on them and feeding their remains to what we later learned was a youthful pale shadow. He had summoned it in the catacombs below the island and was determined to, I believe he said ‘unleash chaos upon the world’ with its help.” Nathaniel shook his head. “Whatever he wanted, we found him and killed them both eventually. But, some of the people he killed and fed to the creature were… alive still. It was wrong. Their bodies were dead, but we found them in a strange state of lucency, their jaws chattering and creating this horrific laughing noise.”

  “And that’s how you learned about them?” Uriel asked. She nodded as she listened intently.

  “Not just. See, we went to the bishop to figure out what to do with them and… Lily suggested we take them with us. The bishop protested, but was more than glad to get rid of them after we helped him. And that is exactly what we did: kept them around, observed them and studied them for a period of time. Until they got too dangerous or there was nothing more to learn. .”

  “Wow. That's kinda fucked up Nate.” Constantine blurted out. Insect, who had been quietly listening in on the conversation, proceeded to kick him in the shins. “Ghak... bitch…”

  “No, he’s right, Insect. It was a deplorable thing to do. I have committed a great many sins in my life, many of which I might not be able to ever atone for. But that, that might have been one of my lesser ones. See, we learned that once a person passed into wraith-hood, they were gone, incurable. But those not yet affected, like we were, could inoculate oneself with prayer and piety. Just like washing one’s hands prevents disease, so did keeping our souls and minds free of sin protected us from the corruption. We even succeeded in bringing a small child back from the brink, and giving them a rightful, humane death.”

  Silence hung in the air, save for the roaring engine and the tires against the asphalt road underneath.

  “So…” Constantine said, sitting back down. “A pale shadow did all that?”

  “I don’t think so. We never were able to find out the true origins. See, I believe a pale shadow is like a rodent. Its more of the carrier of the disease, and not so much the cause of it. It is a creature made of death and misery, it is only normal that we mortal beings be affected just by the mere presence of one.”

  That is one big and scary fucking rodent Nate… Constatine thought, keeping his humorous comment to himself. Silence settled over them once more, and everyone returned to their places. Very soon after however, all the cars began pulling into a nearby density of trees next to the road.

  “There’s a small clearing just off the road from here. We’ll stop there for the night.” Nathaniel told everyone. Soon there was a small campfire, with some of Damien’s men preparing food over the fire while others set up perimeters around the camp.

  Constantine walked around aimlessly, taking a small walk after his supper. After what happened, he felt slightly awkward around Uriel, but this was different from him avoiding her like he had after Gausville. This was just an all too familiar sentiment of dizzying love. A sentiment he knew all too well, but only ever felt towards Nikolai.

  I never noticed how quickly I slipped into loving her. I spent all these months around her... But I can’t be distracted now. He said to himself, trying to calm down his knotted stomach. I need to focus on the mission ahead. All of a sudden, he noticed Insect sitting alone on a log, away from the crowd but still close to the fire. He watched as she massaged her wrists, when he suddenly had a realization.

  “Mind if I join you, Teach’?” He asked, sitting down without getting an answer. She just rolled her eyes and motioned her intent to get up and leave, but Constantine grabbed her by the arm gently. She turned to him surprised, and he responded by signing to her. “Please, I just wanna talk.”

  Insect sighed with cold annoyance, but she sat back down. “What do you want?”

  ”I never noticed it before, or... maybe I did but I only just put it together. How come you always wear gloves?”

  Insect looked at him confused, before turning back to her hands. She tugged at her wrist, pulling on the thin black leather gloves. The back of the glove was stitched with an emblem, a white tear, shining brightly against the dark color of the leather surrounding it, like a singular star against the backdrop of the night. Encircling this teardrop was a half-circle of thin red spikes underneath it, like a crimson crown, an omen of the power her ancestry had gifted her no doubt.

  “You only just noticed this, Constantine?” Insect signed, with an amazed look on her face. “You know I use my hands to talk right?”

  “Yeah, yeah I know. I just realized I’ve never seen you take them off.”

  “You’re an idiot.” She signed, interrupting him while he talked.

  “I know, its just. I never really paid attention to your hands hands, more like… what you were doing with them. Like now, so… why do you wear them all the time?”

  Insect just laughed and shook her head. Constantine nodded approvingly.

  “I figured. Truth is, I just wanted to talk because I’m just worried. Anxious. Concerned about the future. About Dudael. Are you not?” He began.

  She did not answer right away, instead picking up a small rock and tossing it into the fire.

  “I really hope that wasn't supposed to be foreshadowing for what’s gonna happen to us.”

  Insect laughed. It was a strained laughter, one made when trying to not reveal the festering doubt. “I too, am scared.” She signed. “But, I’ve trained you with all that I know, just as I have been. I believe in you. I believe you won’t let all those beatings go to waste, right?”

  “I… keep saying I will but, I’m scared I might be crushed by the weight of all the promises I’ve made.” Constantine spoke, his words pouring straight from his heart. “I will rescue them. I will defeat Asmodeus. I will escape the prison. I will protect Uriel. I will save... All these promises. I keep thinking about what Damien said. Will I really be able to keep all of them?”

  Insect gave him a slap on the back of his head like she usually did. She then began to sign: “For being such a magnificent idiot, you sure overthink too much.”

  “Harsh.” He said quietly. “But not incorrect. I have nothing left except those promises. I cannot abandon my friends to die in a hole. But why are you coming?”

  Insect’s eyes narrowed, but her gaze was fixed on the flickering dance of the flames before her. “Much the same way you couldn’t just let your friends die, I couldn’t let you and Uriel kill yourselves. You need me in there if you want a chance to live.”

  “That second part might be true…” He said, leaning forward, adjusting his posture. ”But come on, Insect. You hate me and at best you tolerate Uriel cause she’s an angel. Your father wouldn’t let you come just like that if there wasn’t some other reason. I saw the way you two argued the other day.”

  “In truth… I also don’t know why he let me go so… willingly. I expected him to put up more of a fight, but he just… went with it?” She signed, quicker than usual.

  “I'm sorry, I didn’t...” Constantine interrupted. “I didn’t understand that.”

  Insect nodded, pulling a small notepad from her pocket and writing her previous sentence.

  “Ah, I see. Thank you. I think… Nate is certainly not an idiot. I’m sure he trusts you, perhaps more than might be apparent at first glance, but I also think he knows something.”

  For some reason, Constantine’s words had resonated with Insect. Perhaps she had similar theories brewing in her thoughts, and having them placed on the table all but confirmed them to her.

  “Nathan always told me more than a parent should.” Insect began. “But… even I knew he kept his secrets from everyone. Everyone has secrets. Even him, even from me.”

  “Are you going to ask him?”

  “Maybe. But not now, not until this is over. We should get some sleep, Constantine. Who knows what we’ll run into on the road.” Insect signed.

  Really nothing, I hope its nothing. Constantine wanted to ask more, but noted that Insect seemed unwilling to discuss further. However, to his surprise, she took a few minutes to write one more thing on her notepad before handing the paper to him. Constantine nodded, watching as Insect got up and quickly walked away to get her sleeping bag.

  Now then, what’s this? “All you need to know Constantine, is that Asmodeus has taken something from me. Something dear to me, that I intend to take back at all costs. You’re not the only one with demons to face.” He read it quietly to himself. So I’m just a convenient excuse for you Teach’? Well, I can’t blame you for jumping on the opportunity.

  He peered his eyes around the camp, looking at Damien’s men and noticing how some of them quickly looked away from him. Ah, so that’s why you wrote this instead of just telling me? Everyone has secrets indeed... Understanding the importance of the note, Constantine crumpled it and threw it into the fire, watching the piece of paper turn to black ashes in the flickering orange lights.

  Katherine descended into the suffocating depths of the tunnels below, following the only glimmer of light she had: a flickering torch in Octavian’s hand. Thankfully, it was not just the two of them willingly throwing themselves into the dark necropolis. Octavian had a few dozen soldiers marching ahead and behind them, making sure no unpleasant surprises awaited. Even though they were all nothing but demons and vile men, Katherine was glad she was not alone with Octavian.

  Katherine looked on at him, trying to discern any weaknesses in his gait and armor. He was clad in his suit of armor, a shade of deep-black and gray that did not shine in the torchlight. All light seemed to seep into the metal. The same pentagram etching that adorned his chest was decorated on his back, only larger, covering the length of his broad shoulders. Katherine noted how the pentagram was incomplete, each of the five points having a break in the line along the right edge. A strange chill coursed through her as her eyes ran down the lines of the symbol. She looked up, seeing the red eyes that were engraved in the back of Octavian’s skull-helmet. She touched her chest, feeling her own cold armor, her mother’s armor now corrupted and defiled. An all too familiar sentiment of disgust filled her thoughts.

  “See anything you like Katherine?” He called out to her without turning around.

  “Hate would be a more appropriate word.” She spoke softly, with her usual icy confidence.

  Octavian paused. Katherine almost bumped into him, but she stopped in time. She noticed he was laughing, chuckling to himself.

  “Hate. Hate is a very appropriate word, Katherine. Hate is a story, a whisper as old as the first breath of this world. You should be careful invoking such a dark shadow as its spectre haunts the hearts and souls of all. Even yours.”

  “I know what hate is you id-”

  Octavian turned around, slamming her against the coarse rocky walls of the mountain tunnel. His helmet stared back at her, his eyes not visible underneath the black pits of its skull-shape. His hot breath soundlessly escaped like steam through the canine-like fangs of the skull’s mouth.

  “You do not know anything. You are a petulant child. A weak, pathetic whelp that has by chance been gifted powers beyond their dreams... or their nightmares. You had your chance to change the course of this fate. You failed, now you listen to my every word. We are descending into a realm of hate. A realm of fear and death. Do not speak as if you know anything of true hatred, Katherine.”

  Katherine’s dual-colored eyes boiled with fury. ”Get your hands. Off. Of. Me.” Her voice echoed, despite the quietness of her angered tone. “I’m here aren’t I? I’m not stupid to try disobey now of all times.”

  “Hmpf.” Octavian chuffed, retracting his hand in a shoving, demeaning manner. “Then maybe you’re not so stupid after all.” He turned around and continued walking down the steps of the tunnel.

  “Dick. Not like you to lose your cool like that. I guess you’re more afraid of this place than you let on.” She said while massaging her neck.

  “Whatever you say. No point trying to convince you. But it would be remiss of me not to point out the goosebumps on your skin. If I am afraid, I’m not the only one here.”

  “Bite me.” Katherine whispered, sticking her tongue out. “Its not everyday you walk head-first into ‘a realm of fear and death’.” She then said, mocking his earlier comment.

  “So that’s the issue then. You’re afraid you’re not gonna live through this?”

  “Death does not scare me. I died before, I’m not afraid to die again.”

  “This mission is not as doomed as you might consider it. I told you a while back that I’d tell you the story of the demon that escaped this pit, did I not? Perhaps now is the best time to, its a long way down.”

  “I have no choice do I?” She said, rolling her eyes.

  “Don't pretend like you’re not intrigued. You’re curious. Because if the story is indeed true, it means the prison is not as inescapable as you believe it to be.”

  “Very well then. Who was this demon? How’d he do it?”

  Octavian paused, but whether it was hesitation or for dramatic effect, Katherine couldn’t tell. “His name has been forgotten to time. It was hundreds of thousands upon thousands of years ago. This demon had committed a sin so great that God himself sent an archangel to smite him, send him back to hell where he belonged. Shemhazai, the watcher without eyes, one of God’s greatest lieutenants. But this demon’s power was so great that even this archangel could not slay him. The two of them battled for hundreds of years, their powers cleaving across the battlefield that was this land. The great ocean that once covered this place boiled to nothing from the heat of their flaming swords.”

  “And to break the stalemate, Shemmy decided instead to create Dudael and lock the demon up in here, right?”

  “Correct, though I’m upset at you for interrupting me. Yes. Shemhazai bound the demon to a great canyon below the waters… well, in the desert at that point. He then built the mountain on top of him. Stone by painstaking stone over the next God-knows how many thousands of years later.”

  “And then?”

  “This prison was built with the sole purpose of weakening the demon, sapping him of his strength. The demon was stripped of nearly all power over the eons he spent in this pit. But still, he was not hopeless. You see, Dudael became a prison like the one we know, but it was only as a last resort. Angels that fell into their sins, demons that sought to break the heavens, creatures lurking in between the planes of existence and the beyond that sought only to devour. Dudael became their tomb.” Octavian said, lighting his torch against the tunnel walls. Katherine looked up, seeing ancient crude drawings that still lingered on the walls. They depicted abstract shapes, beings that she could not recognize nor even envision, and men who fought them and held them back. “Look upon these men carefully Katherine. It was millenia before Samson was alive, and yet even in those prehistoric times, the will of man burned bright and true, opposing the yawning dark. Protectors and hunters of righteousness. These are your true ancestors.”

  “Dead men. All of them.” She spat coldly, running her fingers against one of the spectral drawings on the walls. “Let their rotting spirits sleep and go on with the story.”

  “You’re so dull. No flair for drama. Moving on, Shemhazai could not watch over these beings alone, and so the righteous men that captured them were tasked with keeping them contained. It’s always humanity’s fault isn’t it…? Heh… The demon discovered a fault in the grand holy force that permeated through the architecture of Dudael. Like the weakest link on the chains that bound him. His theory was that he could exploit that fault, corrupt it to do his bidding. And that he did. Over the next thousands of years, he poured all the malice and hate he held within him into that one fault. Despite the fact that Shemhazai watched him without pause all that time, he never saw it coming.”

  “Ironic. Maybe God shouldn’t have put an angel without eyes to make sure such a powerful demon stayed locked up.” Katherine said, shrugging her shoulders.

  “Eyes are a powerful tool Katherine, but they are a weakness over countless years. Eyes grow weak and old and blind. Shemhazai had no need of them. That’s why he was chosen as the first warden.” Octavian said, with a smirk.

  “What happened then?” Katherine asked, fully engrossed in Octavian’s tale now.

  “The demon was weak, a shell of what he was before. He wanted to kill the Archangel as retribution, but he found that to be impossible. Instead, he made the angel take his place in the pit. Some say Shemhazai’s screams still echo in the deepest layer of Dudael.”

  Katherine stopped, her brow furrowed in anger and confusion. “So, how did he escape? Was it the men the angel chose as guardians? What was the fault he exploited? ”

  Octavian turned around. She could not see it, but he was grinning underneath his helmet. He uttered only one word before turning around and continuing his path. “Death.”

  Katherine quickly followed and Octavian continued his story.

  "See, when the archangel created this holy mountain, he inoculated it against all possible evil and unholy powers that might try to attack or infiltrate. It was a magnificent, glorious display of divine power, everything evil could enter, but nothing could escape. But in doing so, he made two mistakes. Firstly, he left out the one force that existed beyond divinity. The keeper of the cosmic pact that existed between creation and that which does not exist.”

  “He didn’t want the demon to die, only exist locked in eternal punishment…” Katherine said, coming to an understanding.

  “Exactly. The demon found out that there were others in Dudael. The chosen holy priest and men meant to upkeep and protect the place. That was his second mistake. The demon’s undying, ravenous hatred was an evil in itself. One that already existed within Dudael’s holy barrier when it was created. That hatred, that loathful abhorrence infected the mind of one of those men, the one whose soul and mind were weakest and most susceptible.” Octavian paused, and Katherine noticed that the soldiers in front had also stopped. All of them had come before a massive stone door, covered in cobwebs and moss and similar drawings to the ones she saw earlier on the walls. Katherine peered at it, and high above her was an inscription scrawled red like blood. She almost thought it was still dripping.

  “Bring him forward.” Octavian said coldly. His soldiers obeyed, and those from behind dragged forward a sack, tossing it on the ground. The wails of a person came from within, as one of the soldiers reached down with a knife, cutting the sack open. Katherine’s blood turned to ice in her veins when she saw what the demon dragged out: a young child, could not have been older than thirteen years of age. His legs and hands were bound shut and through the binding on his mouth Katherine heard him scream at her for help. Her fingers locked around her halberd, but even if she wanted to act in any way, she was frozen like a statue, unable to breathe, unable to swallow her spit. She could only watch, unblinking, as Octavian stepped forward and pulled the child up by the hair.

  “When the priest committed suicide, the barrier that Shemhazai crafted became corrupted by death. All the evil contained in this place let loose in the world once more. A rotting husk was all that remained, and eventually the rats came to feast upon its putrid flesh. This gateway remains as one of the few rocks the angel placed.” He dragged the child closer to the door, and once close enough, he turned towards Katherine. She stared back at him, feeling his smug grin underneath his helmet. The quiet chuckle he enjoyed, mocked her. “Don’t blink.” He said.

  A flash of dark light illuminated the cave as Octavian reached out his free hand towards the child, placing his flat palm on his shoulder. His gauntlets were thin, yet the metal had a visible heft to it giving them an ominous atmosphere of power. In one fluid motion, like a hawk ripping into an innocent rabbit faster than the realization of its death, he separated the child’s head from its shoulders, his fingers slicing with razor accuracy through his flesh. Katherine’s eyes were locked with the child’s, watching as life seeped from them in an instant. The child did not even scream. There was nothing but fear in both their eyes, cold, biting fear. With great care, Octavian then placed his open palm under the sliced neck, letting his gauntlet soak further in innocent blood. When satisfied, he tossed the head aside in a small corner of their chamber and turned to the stone door. He inspected it for a moment, before finding a stray rock, one that was not part of the original design. He removed it, and stuck his bloodied fist within the rock.

  “Grrrgh.” He grunted, bearing through the pain.

  Whatever you’re feeling now, it is not enough. Katherine thought, as she looked down before her at the lifeless body still radiating heat. “I swear on my mother’s grave Octavian, I will kill you, tear you apart for everything you’ve done to me and for all you’ve hurt in your so-called quest for salvation. Your stupid seal won’t hold me back forever, mark my fucking words.”

  “Ohoh… hohohohoho!” He laughed without fear or worry in the face of her promise. “One child’s death is all it takes for you to get all emotional Katherine? I guess you have your own style of being dramatic after all?” He said, retracting his arm from the hole in the wall.

  The whole room began to rumble and quake. Katherine used the end of her halberd to keep herself from keeling over. With agonizing slowness, the stone door began to lower, and light flooded the room from the ceiling. It was not a bright, blinding light, but a faded, otherworldly shade of red and purple. It was almost overpowered by the light of Octavian’s torch, had the soldier who carried it not dropped it by accident and let it extinguish in the child’s blood. Soon, the scraping song of rock against rock came to an end, and a hallway into Dudael lay before them.

  “Welcome to Hell!” Octavian said cheerfully.

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