The ringing in Constantine’s ears was ceaseless.

  It was a constant droning note that seemed to only intensify with each passing moment. He clutched his head, trying to let the dizzying sentiment fade away. The feeling of his cold hand against his forehead was like an anchor of reality, something which he could focus upon to try to calm and realign himself. His eyes were now open, but only cruel darkness lay before him. Slowly, he pawed around himself, trying to figure out where the floor he was laying on actually was.

  God… what the hell happened? He thought as he pushed himself off the smooth, dark marble floor. It felt like I got sucked through a black hole or something. Every muscle in my body feels like its been flayed open gargh…

  The dark visage of a smiling demon shot through his waking thoughts. Piercing scarlet eyes of such pristine yet terrifying beauty stared unblinking at him. Like two flawless red jewels, Constantine found it difficult to breathe or look away under their gaze. Their sheer immaculate perfection was otherworldly, their shimmering light one filled him with both dread and a fearful admiration. Then came a sudden realization which struck him like a bolt of lightning. He jumped to his feet, screaming their name:

  “Asmodeus!”

  He looked around, perhaps expecting a response or reaction, but there was only silence. He stood there like an upright stick in a patch of wet sand for a few more moments before realizing his dagger was not in his hand. Constantine paced around searching for it, getting a layout of his new location as he did. This place appeared very high-tech, in contrast to the entry chamber. The walls were a cold metallic black, with deep ridges and formations made to resemble unreadable shapes and letters. Thick tubes and pipes ran along the walls close to the ceiling. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of this corridor, he noticed there was a very faint bluish glow coming from them.

  “I wonder what sort of freaky shit he’s got flowing through those things.” He mumbled out loud to himself.

  “Don’t let your imagination get too wild, its only water. After all, a good amount of prisoners here need it to survive…” A voice came from the darkness behind him. It was the same terrifying sound that froze everyone earlier. Even without turning around, Constantine could feel the harrowing red gaze lighting down upon him. It made beads of sweat drip down the side of his forehead. “Are you afraid? Without your dagger you aren’t so eager to attack me right away?” Asmodeus taunted from the shadows.

  “No, actually.” Constantine willed all the courage he could muster and spun on his heels, smiling awkwardly but standing his ground with defiance. ”Its usually not smart to charge head-first into a place you can’t see.”

  Before his eyes could even adjust to the darkness, a powerful thud echoed throughout the corridor, causing numerous tiles all along the ceiling to flicker to life with bright, blue light. Now, Constantine could see the demon with full clarity. Asmodeus sat nonchalantly on a throne of flesh and bones that seemed to burst from the very metal sheets of the floor, his head and gaze tilted away from him. A spine with countless ribs adorned the sides of the armrest that the demon was leaning against. Spinning on the tip of the finger in his other hand was the crimson shadow of the holy dagger. “Well?” His deep voice fell.

  Despite his inner voice screaming at him to stay put, maybe even turn back and run, seeing the demon unleashed that anger buried deep in Constantine’s soul. His muscles sprung to life, his body lashing towards the demon once more. But this time, he was unable to move even a finger. Not out of fear, or any hesitation of his own, but as Constantine would discover immediately, his limbs had been bound. Tentacles of flesh, coated in blood and vile dew were suddenly and painfully wrapped around his ankles and wrists.

  “When the fu-”

  “Fascinating.” The demon interrupted. “You pass yet again. I was curious if your earlier bravado was just some spur-of-the-moment courage, but no, you would truly throw yourself into certain death.”

  “Its not certain death if there’s even the slightest chance I could kill you!” Constantine spat out.

  “Come now, you’re not that delusional are you? You could not touch me even if I sat unmoving in this chair.”

  Constantine took a deep breath. “Yeah, probably. In that case, its not certain death if there’s the slightest chance I could take the dagger and make a getaway.”

  “Hahaaa!” Asmodeus laughed, tossing the dagger and catching it by the handle. “Now that’s more appropriate.”

  A thought crossed through his head during the quick silence that lingered between them.

  Wait… if he’s here… then…?

  “What did you do with my friends you slimy fucker?” He shouted even harder, pushing his muscles against his bindings and causing his wrist wound to bleed through his bandage. “What do you want from me, freak? If you’re gonna kill me, spare me the bullshit and just do it.”

  Asmodeus did not answer. He rose from his seat and stood tall, his feet above the ground, and his unblinking eyes staring down upon Constantine.

  I can’t… stop myself from shivering… His… fucking eyes!

  “Killing you, would be a pathetically dull affair.” His voice entered Constatine’s ears, echoing through every corner of his mind before fading into a singular ringing tone. “And you and your friends should consider yourselves extremely lucky Constantine…” Asmodeus continued, grabbing him by the chin in much the same way he had grabbed Uriel back in the lobby. “Had I not been specifically instructed to do otherwise, you all would be nothing more than smears of blood and bones in front of my doorstep.”

  Fear. Every bone in his body, every muscle under his skin, every cell of his being was alive with fear. A sentiment that draped over his mind like an impenetrable mist, drowning out all other thoughts. For all his bravado, for all his wild and reckless zeal, Constantine was now face to face with fear that he had never even imagined possible. The fear of death was nothing compared to the fear he felt staring into Asmodeus’ eyes. The ringing silence as the demon stared at him seemed interminable. But then, the demon turned his gaze, and Constantine almost collapsed into unconsciousness, had it not been for his bindings propping him up like a puppet.

  “Your friends are alive. Although for how much longer, I cannot say. My finest security lieutenant is on the hunt for you all. But don’t worry, I’ve scattered you all throughout the prison, wouldn’t want to make things easy now would we?”

  “You… bastard… we’re nothing but sport for you? You think you can just toy with me and walk away all smug and beaming?” Constantine spoke with delirious hunger in his voice. His fear now gave way to anger. A swelling rage that ached from deep within. He willingly turned to stare at the demon, a dizzying madness welling inside his dark eyes. “You demons are all the same. Smug bastards that think you’re beyond consequence. But don’t worry, hope prevails eventually, no matter how long it takes. I don’t care if I die before then, I will still make you pay. I’ll crawl out of hell and I’ll find you. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I will gouge your fucking eyes out and make you pay for everything.”

  Asmodeus was briefly quiet. “You’re all talk Sancthos. Nothing more than a barking mutt. Your fiery will cannot win you every battle. Your hope is frail, weak. There is a darkness within your soul, but not even that is enough to save you.” The demon stepped closer, as if there was a new idea that crossed his mind. “But it could be… You have potential. If a demon was to teach you the ways to channel that darkness, perhaps you might achieve heights beyond your current mediocrity.”

  “Who said I’d ever want to get taught by you?”

  “I never said I’d teach you. You would be too much work for too little reward. My eyes are set on a grander prize.”

  Constantine looked up silently. His eyes were large with the deathly grip of worry.

  “Of course. You probably have realized it too by now.” Asmodeus continued, his lips curved into a smile. “There’s a darkness within Uriel greater than the touch of Death you have been blessed with. A power that has saved your life so many times already…”

  “FUCK YOU!” Constantine lashed out once again. “I’LL KILL YOU IF YOU LAY A FUCKING FINGER ON HER!”

  “Hmm? Do you think your threats worry me at all? I’m not going to leave such wonderful potential wallowing in ineptitude! No, Uriel must be allowed to have her eyes opened to her true strength.” The demon continued talking as he walked further down the corridor, his tentacles dragging Constantine along. “She must be taught to embrace her true nature.”

  “You will fail. I know Uriel better than you. She will never give in to her demonic nature, no matter how much you tempt her with lies of power.”

  Asmodeus stopped. Constantine then heard him chuckle, then watched as the demon turned around, his face contorted into a hideous laughter. “You think… I’m referring to her demon half?” The warden said plainly. His words left Constantine stunned. “You fool. Her demon blood might actually be making her weaker had she not had it in the first place. Did you never once ask your sweet angel about her heritage? Truly ask her?”

  “W-what are you fucking talking about?” Constantine snapped back. “I was the one who told her who her mother was. She had no idea that her father is Mephisto or her mother was…”

  “Camael?” The demon answered before him. But this was not a mindread, he simply already knew the answer. “A most beautiful jewel if there ever was one. Would you like to see her?”

  “What? She’s… alive?”

  “Alive… one could say so.” Asmodeus said softly. He reached down and touched Constantine’s forehead, giving a slight push.

  Constantine felt himself fall back, free from the grasp of the demon’s tendrils. The sensation of the world slipping from under his feet caught him by surprise, causing him to yell out. However, as he fell through the darkness, he stopped, feeling the familiar sensation as if he had used his dagger’s power. The same fading of the world, the blinding shadows that enveloped his sight, and the deafening eerie silence ringing in his ears.

  Is this… Death’s realm? Asmodeus can access it? Or is this merely some other dimension of his? His thoughts raced as a quiet wind blew against his face, making him squint. Far in the distance below, a white spec appeared. He blinked a few times as he fell towards it, occasionally putting his hand out towards it wondering if perhaps he had stopped moving. But he noticed with each passing second that the spec grew in size.

  “Whoooooooo areeeeeeee youuuuuuuu?” A voice boomed within his mind. It was a soft and gentle tone wrapped in the echo of another thunderous, fiery voice filled with rage and misery. A voice like a viper coiling around a slowly suffocating rabbit.

  “Me?” Constantine shouted. “Who are you? Stop fucking with me Asmodeus!”

  The walls of shadow that surrounded Constantine shook with unbelievable violent force. He felt as if his bones and organs were shaking inside his very body.

  “Theeeee deeeeeeemoooonnnnnnnn…!” The voice trembled, every sound drawn lengthily and echoing with anger and fury exacerbated by the name Constantine had uttered. “Reeeleeeeeeeaaaassseeeee meeeeeeeeee…!” The mind-shattering noise echoed onward, drowning all thought.

  Constantine shut his eyes, clutched his ears, and screamed. The voice screamed back at him, like the shrieking voices of a thousand tormented souls, crying out for the blessed end. The sheer force turned his fingers to ashes. Constantine’s eyes shot open in fear, this physical form of his was melting before the deafening scream of pain. But as his eyes opened, he saw that what once was a growing white spec, now became a colossal white disc. Blinding, awe-inspiring and terrifying.

  The… Moon? His thoughts raced in the brief silence that he had been gifted. But as his body began to dissipate, Constantine saw the moon for what it really was. At first, he thought the moon was simply going from full to crescent, but the shocking realization left him aghast. Two gigantic abyssal eyelids had closed around it and now they opened once more. It was an eye. A blind pale eye of a celestial size. Constantine screamed as his soul plunged into the iris of a dead god.

  He did not know how much time he spent splayed out on the floor, for the second time that day. But this time, Constantine was much more thankful to feel the icy chill of the metal, the ridges and bumps against his face rather than face the darkness he had just witnessed.

  “Do you understand now? Do you see the true power that lies within Uriel? Her true birthright?” A much colder and deeper voice seeped into his ears. “You are nothing more than a puppet on strings you can't even see. You’ve been granted a glimpse of them and look at you, it nearly left you comatose. And yet you cling to fruitless hope, hmhmhmhm...” Asmodeus chuckled softly. “Hopeful thinking, a most flavorful poison. Nothing more than numbing medicine to protect frail minds like yours. There is no hope for you, not here in this prison, not out in the decaying world you came from. Only despair.”

  No… no… I cannot… allow that reality to come true… I can’t… His thoughts fell, like a shadow being cast over them.

  “I’ve gazed into your memories, you know. It was nothing…” The demon continued, standing up as Constantine stared at him with delirious, tired eyes. “Reading your mind was like reading a particularly interesting pamphlet. Not much substance, but it kept me entertained for a few moments…”

  “You… f-fucker…” Constantine spat out, trying not to violently vomit from the aching pain that echoed throughout his muscles and bones.

  “What I found especially curious…” Asmodeus said, ignoring the insult. “In all those years being tormented by your father… you never once gave up hope. You never abandoned your father to his fate. You never considered abandoning your dear love Nikolai, nor her treacherous sister Katherine. That stubbornness of yours is foolish… And even yet, there is power to be found in foolishness. That makes you dangerous, Constantine.”

  “How… dare you mention Nikolai… you fucking demon.” Constantine spurted out through the blood that seeped from his mouth. ”You say I’m dangerous, does that make you afraid, demon? Say her name again, I dare you.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about, that zeal, that burning drive. Its so intriguing to me. What makes you fight so fervently? Your hope? Your friends? They’re deeper in this prison, I’ve brought you closer.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? Like I said, I find you intriguing. I want to fan the flame of hope within you. The greater the hope, the sweeter the despair it creates once its mercilessly crushed.” Asmodeus smiled, his wide, unblinking eyes staring him down. “Only in the face of despair, can the true perfection of a soul be achieved.”

  “I’d like to see you try.” Constantine taunted, a mad grin stretching across his lips.

  “Good, that’s what I want to hear from you.” Asmodeus nodded, tossing the dagger next to Constantine’s head. “I must take my leave now, your friends are being busy little gnats elsewhere. But don’t worry, I’ll keep a close eye on your journey. I hope we'll meet again before the end…” He said, floating backwards towards the wall. The demon’s eyes lingered as the rest of his body melted away into the metallic sheets of the wall, turning into a slimy goop of vanishing flesh and tendons.

  Constantine tried pushing himself off the ground, but he was frozen. He wanted to crawl closer to the wall, to check it, to make sure the demon was gone completely but he couldn’t. Even now, he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched from the darkness that lay at each end of the corridor. His dagger lay out on the ground, just out of reach. But the prospect of him wrapping his fingers around the hilt now seemed beyond impossible. With the cold floor pressing against his face, he could only stare blankly at the weapon. A feeling that once filled him with strength and hope, now only filled him with dread. Constantine’s horrified eyes stared back at him in the spotless crimson blade of the weapon. First tears welled up in his eyes, then they started streaming, and finally able to let down his guard, he cried. He unleashed a scream full of anguish and fear, a scream that drained his breath away. He choked and coughed, and gasped for breath, punching his chest violently to keep his lungs filled with air. Overwhelming despair suffocated his thoughts, like the vines of a maddening frenzy.

  Everything is dark… everything is… still… Why is everything so heavy…? His thoughts last raced before he faded into a dreamless unconsciousness.

  They called it The Vault. Mephisto never really bothered to ask the older prisoners why. He assumed it was because centuries ago this place was a cell for a gargantuan unholy beast. It would explain why the walls of this place were particularly massive and why it was so far away from the general center of the fifth layer, almost hidden out of sight within its labyrinthine paths. It took a long time, but Mephisto eventually mapped them out. The sterile samey blueish walls, combined with the hazy blue neon lights that littered the corridors and made the quietest yet distinctly noticeable droning noise, made it incredibly easy to get lost in. But having walked those halls countless times meant that Mephisto could now navigate them easier than the back of his palm.

  Furia, as this fifth layer was called, whether by the original Gods that built Dudael, or by the current Lord and Master whose name few prisoners dared speak, was the layer where Mephisto’s leisurely time was most spent. This was the most comfortable living layer, where the majority of Dudael’s prisoners were kept. Most of them were generally reasonable humans, demons and stranger beings that had the sapience to know restraint. The more dangerous creatures and men were further in the fiery layers below, while the precious items and artifacts were kept further in the icy layers above. Most of the prisoners knew the cells were their homes, being free to wander the layer during the hours of the day as long as the curfew was respected. Those that felt bold and disobeyed or attempted to flee to other layers would quickly learn why the security mistress, Aramia, was more terrifying to them than Asmodeus ever would be.

  Mephisto, being a prisoner in all but name, had a more luxurious prison cell than most, while also being allowed to wander as he pleased. He still was wary, as catching Aramia’s wrath was not something he was too keen on doing. During his wanderings, he eventually found out that the prisoners formed a small colony, a little hideaway in some of the deeper places of the prison. A place where they could unwind and socialize, those that wanted to anyway. In truth, no one had any delusions about their true nature. The Vault as it currently existed only did so because of the Lord’s mercy, nothing more. Everyone knew he was aware of the place, but as long as they were quiet and did not disturb anyone, they were permitted to keep it.

  They say that when some prisoners were eventually able to scrounge up enough scrap to try and build some benches and standing spots, the next day, before they even started, the vault was transformed from a massive empty box into a place filled with all sorts of different small buildings and enclosures. Some of the things the prisoners were given included a bar, a bookshop, an entertainment hotel as well as a gym and a few sports fields. Thankfully the occasional odd brawl that occurred in the Vault’s bar didn’t attract any attention, much to everyone’s relief.

  “You okay Meph’?” A surly voice broke through his deep concentration. Yet he continued running his finger around the rim of the glass on the table, his eyes following it intently before the interruptor spoke again. “Meph’?”

  The inanimaliat was quiet, but he did nod, acknowledging the presence of the other.

  “Could at least say something you bugger ‘unt?”

  “What do you want, Krank?” Mephisto snapped.

  The screech of a chair being pulled was followed by the straining gasps of something climbing it. Mephisto was soon face to face with a crooked imp, squinted eyes and mouth filled with sharp teeth, despite the few absent ones. Jeremiah Jimothy Krank Esquire as the imp liked to call himself was one of the many odd fellows Mephisto had befriended during his stay. The demon’s popularity came from his freedom, and that attracted many of those around the vault. But as many soon found, a friendship with Mephisto was often riskier than the rewards it offered.

  Krank however, enjoyed the thrill and had an itching desire to escape the pit, having been stuck in Dudael for close to four hundred years. He was there at the birth of the vault and knew secrets of the prison that Mephisto would have needed centuries to find. Mephisto needed him, and Krank needed an excuse. Their friendship was as solid as can be, although Mephisto was sometimes unsettled by how Krank rarely wore anything more than a raggedy cloth. Thankfully it was large.

  The imp scratched himself behind his long red ear and started speaking once more with his unusually tenebrous voice for such a stature. “You’ve been sitting staring at that whisky so long, it's almost evaporated. Unless that's what you’re waiting on. You’ve never been much of that talking kind, but you’ve never been this dour. Who shit in your boots?”

  “Aside from the usual slimy unblinking fuck? No one in particular.” Mephisto said, taking a swig of his drink.

  “There’s not many daft ones like you here to try and mess with the big boss…” Krank said, scratching his ear some more. “You should expect hell to come your way.”

  “Its not hell coming my way, I’m worried about.” He said bluntly.

  “Awh, lil soulless demon worried about the rest of us cursed fucks?”

  “No. Did you do what I asked?”

  “Is that’s what’s gotten you so worked up then? The fortnight is almost upon us?”

  “Still a day or two away but… yes.” Mephisto looked down, his face cast by a shadow of worry. “So?”

  “Yeah yeah, I had some of my boys run up and down Furia painting your stupid shit on every cell, but…”

  “Haeresis? No one wanted to go down there did they?” Mephisto finished the sentence for him, realizing what had to be done.

  “I offered a small fortune to them but the damn snake scares everyone.”

  “It’s fine, I’ll go and do it myself.”

  “You’ve got a real death wish, hah?”

  “I’m not afraid of no serpent.” Mephisto said, looking up defiantly. His eyes noticed something behind Krank, a figure rushing through the wisps of people that lingered in the streets of the vault. It was one of Krank’s boys, a younger imp that spent most of his time cleaning up the upper layers in service to the Book-Keeper. He dashed between the legs and hooves of the prisoners, intent on making his way to Mephisto.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Slow’un Wildfin.” Krank called out to his underling once he got close. “Whats’a matter?”

  “There's word from up top, a force is on the horizon approaching the gates.” The second imp spoke with a shrill, crumply voice. His information caused Mephisto to jump out of his chair, his eyes alight with decisive anger.

  “Any word from Asmodeus? Aramia?” Mephisto asked.

  “Nothing yet.” Wildfing replied. “No doubts the big boss knows, but no one’s been called out yet. Finny said from the outlook that the dust cloud is still some hours off. Maybe five or six at best.”

  “This is it… They’re finally here.” Mephisto stumbled back, before reaching forward and downing the last of his whisky. “Where’s my weapons, Krank?”

  “Back of the bar, lockbox.” The imp said with a devilish grin on his face as he climbed down the mountainous chair. “Don't forget the bag of blood, ha haa!”

  Mephisto reached over, pulling out all of his makeshift weapons and supplies, tossing them in a small bag around his shoulder. He then turned to the two imps, a hint of blue sadness noticeable on his face.

  “Wildfin, go out into the tunnels and wake up the prisoners, tell them to unleash hell once I open the doors.” Once the imp ran out, he turned to his friend. “This is it, little one. You’ll keep the weak and wounded safe in the vault like you said, right?”

  “When we’ve got the chance I’ll lead everyone out of this damned prison.” Krank nodded. “I must thank you, Meph. Without you I woulda rotted in this damn place another four cent’ries.”

  “Don’t go soft on me now. I never said I’d succeed.”

  “Well, no matter what happens then, I hope we never see each other again.” The imp smiled crookedly, before rushing towards the back of the bar.

  Mephisto let out a genuine chuckle. “Me too.” He said, before rushing out of the bar as if it had suddenly caught on fire.

  Mephisto massaged his shoulder as he sat behind a pillar of obsidian. He kept checking behind him, making sure that Aramia hadn’t continued chasing him, but the serpent was now long gone. He took a deep breath, taking in the layout of his current location. Haeresis reminded him a lot of Baphomet’s hell. The flayed bodies he was staring at on the other side of the sickeningly green river that cut across the room brought back those horrific memories. He stared at them, watching as blood dripped from their raw muscles, and how their chests still expanded and contracted, despite the dozen hooks they were hanging on, keeping them open and suspended. These corpses were nothing more than fresh meat for the denizens of this particular region. This was the crypt of blackmoor harpies, demonic half-human half-skeletal vultures. Unfortunately for Mephisto, this crypt was the only way for him to get back to the stairway to Furia.

  “I need to get out of here…” He said quietly, trying to ignore the groans of the corpses, and the iron-like smell of blood that emanated through the air. He suddenly choked, gasping for air, as the smell was also accompanied by a singing, burning sensation in his chest. He looked over to the river, noticing the greenish steam that escaped from it. “That looks like it’ll corrode straight through my bones…” But first, he checked something in a pocket against his chest. The makeshift dagger he used against Aramia was still there, the magic she had used to protect herself now congealed into red lines across the blade’s edge.

  He nodded once he felt ready, and stood up. The demon wandered forward, stepping quietly in fear of not alerting any unwanted foe. The crypt was littered with bodies and remains on either side of the river of liquid acid that flowed through the middle. Every now and then from the middle of the river a tree with a deep red bark would sprout, going up to the high ceilings where its branches would curve back down towards the walls. Mephisto noticed upon closer inspection that these trees were made of organs and sinew, not wood. The bark was muscle, coarse, striated and rough while the branches were like capillaries, dripping with flowers of blood. The demon turned away, inspecting the numerous caves and tunnels littered the walls on each side, blocked by gateways of rusted iron spikes. The spikes were merely for show and he realized what waited for him should he make too much noise.

  But a sudden noise was what stopped Mephisto in his tracks. Coming to an intersection, he heard the wet, crunchy sounds of something feasting. He carefully peaked around the bloodslime wall and noticed a pack of vicious beasts tearing a carcass to bits. Small, yet vicious, the harpies' wings were nothing but skeletal fingers, extremely long and sharp. They used these claws to rip the still breathing soul apart, stuffing their beaked faces with juicy red flesh. While their elongated skulls bore resemblance to a human’s, their eyes were naught but dead, black holes. They bled with the desires only to rip, tear, and feed. One of them departed after slurping down some stringy muscle, and made its way closer to the river. In one fell swoop, it stuck its freakishly long neck out, pulling a great amount of poisonous water in its mouth. It gurgled and cawed, letting the liquid fall into its gullet with a satisfied gurgle at the end.

  “Fuck.” Mephisto mouthed without making a sound. Why are these damn things out at this hour? Fuck’s sake. Think, think. How’re you gonna get across the damn room? He thought, looking across the chamber. The river split into three directions, and the room was shaped to accompany. Mephisto had to somehow get across, but the bridge was too close to where the harpies were feasting. Swimming’s out of the question… maybe I can jump it? He thought. Ghh, the jump seems way too big, and I might make too much noise… maybe the trees…?

  His eyes scanned the room some more searching for any sort of alternative method of crossing, but nothing seemed usable. He considered throwing some of the bodies, using them as stepping stones, but the rattling of the chains they hung on seemed loud enough already.

  I’ve no choice, I have to turn back and try to find a way around… He decided, absentmindedly turning around…

  Cra-aark

  … And stepping on a pile of bones, specifically ribs, picked clean.

  “Motherfuck-”

  “GRAAW-AWH-AWHK!’ The beasts shrilled from the corridor, furious hunger in their voices.

  Mephisto spun on his heels, running into a sprint to leap across the river. But as he made the corner, he was instantly jumped by one of the harpies. Their talons latched onto his clothing, forcefully pushing him onto the ground.

  “Gah!” He gasped as the air was shoved out of his lungs. Pulling out his gun, a junk of iron and metal, Mephisto then tried shooting towards the beast. But the harpy’s beak stabbed forward, messing up his aim. The gun fired upwards over his head and towards the river. Mephisto winced as he heard the iron bullet fizzle and burn, causing a quick-dying spurt of fire on the surface of the river.

  With quick thinking, he pulled out his dagger with his free hand and stabbed the bird’s lengthy skeletal leg right at the joint. He twisted the blade, separating the light tendons that kept the leg together. The harpy screeched and cawed, flying backwards in a fit of pain and rage. Mephisto quickly jumped back up on his feet, and ripped the leg from his clothes. But instead of throwing it away, a quick glance made him realize that the talons were absurdly long and sharp, and attached to a much longer boney leg. He nodded, and swapped it for the gun in his hand.

  Miracle that these damn things didn’t rip me apart! He thought, as he quickly shuffled about, avoiding the other harpies that were now rushing towards him.

  “Hyah, HYAH!” He shouted, swiping at them with the length of his new weapon. His aggressive stance made the beasts pause briefly, before they in turn spread their wings and became much more vicious.

  Mephisto deftly avoided their flying, swooping strikes to the best of his ability, but the harpies were growing in numbers. The commotion was attracting the others like vultures from their caves.

  Fuck… fuck… I need to get out of here FAST! He screamed in his thoughts as he almost avoided another blow, a harpy clawing shallowly across his shoulder, drawing blood.

  The inanimaliat fought fiercely, his viciousness emboldened by his fury and awareness of death. The harpies circled around him, each taking turns pecking away at him between their screeches, neither side willing to jump in and risk getting killed. They knew the more time passed, the more tired the demon would be.

  The river, I need to get across the river… but how…?

  An opening, his chance finally came in the blink of an eye. A couple of harpies got over zealous in their attack, creating a small gap in the wall of skeletons that formed around Mephistopheles. With reckless dexterity he lunged forward, bearing through the cuts and slices on his body as he pushed through. His legs tore through the rocky gravel of the crypt, propelling him towards the river. He panted and gasped rapidly, his eyes glued to the dark green poison that cut across the chamber.

  Fear set in his heart. He knew his legs were not powerful enough to make the jump across, but acid or not, he had to try. But right before he reached the edge of the stone walkway, an idea flashed through his mind. His gaze saw the red branches of the tree, bent down across the ceiling, pushing down towards the river. He wouldn’t have been able to reach normally, but his grip tightened around the harpy’s leg.

  “FUCK IT…!” He shouted as he leapt with all his might, the tip of his boot just barely splashing across the surface of the acid.

  He unleashed a mad shout for dear life as he stabbed into the fleshy branch of the tree. Blood sprayed on his face and body like a torrent. But the talons stabbed deeply, with enough of a grip to hold up the demon.

  “Ha-HAH!” Mephisto shouted, amazed his crazy idea worked. Using the force of his jump, he flicked his legs forward, gaining momentum. Once he built up enough of a swing, he jumped forward, aiming for the black stone on the other side of the river. Mephisto shouted once again as his body collapsed into a roll on the hard rock. The demon could be nothing but ecstatic however, uncaring of any pain he might feel. “YES! FUCK YES!” He screamed, allowing himself a moment of respite.

  But the moment went and passed, as the harpies continued chasing him, simply flying over the chasm on unnatural, boney wings. Mephisto looked back over his shoulder as he ran. Most of the birds were across the river, on the other side.

  If I could… just… His thoughts raced, looking down at the river of acid between them. Then, he put his dagger aside, pulling out a packet of matches from his satchel. An idea from an older time, inspired by an old friend’s voice that rang in his ear.

  “Have you ever used acid for interrogation, Mephisto?” Azazel’s voice called out.

  “Do you never have more normal topics of conversation, Azzy?” He remembered himself answering back with exasperation.

  “Answer the question damn it.” The bronze-haired demon answered back with annoyance.

  “No? What’s that?” He said with a sigh.

  “They’re these substances, burns but it isn’t fire, it eats away at your flesh and skin in an instant. The best part, there’s hundreds of thousands of different kinds out there. Its like an entire world of possibility. But you best be careful how and what you combine them with. I once tossed a slightly lit cigarette into a beaker of the damn thing and the whole thing flared up with this giant purple flame. Not even in hell had I seen such marvelous flames, such intense fury. These humans are a pretty creative lot…”

  He struck a match, throwing it into the river. But much to his dismay, the match only sputtered and fizzled, the slightest flame erupting almost unnoticeably.

  “NO! COME ON!” Mephisto shouted, panicked. He lit another and tossed it, in futile hope maybe it would ignite, and then another, but to no avail. “Fuck… fuck… fuck…! Why won’t you damn work!”

  “I’ll have Belial show you some examples around. He can borrow you a chemistry book.” Azazel’s voice continued. “...Teach you the basics, you wanna be careful though. Not even metal is safe from the damn things… in fact… I think metals are often used to enhance the speed and ferocity of reactions… What was the damn word… I think it was something like a…”

  But just as the harpies were getting dangerously close once more, a few of the more brazen ones starting to fly over the river, a single word crossed his lips. “Catalyst!” He said. “It needs a catalyst! Some metal, metal, metal…” He ecstatically cried out, searching for anything he might be able to use. He placed his hand over his chest, feeling the makeshift gun, and his eyes lit up with glee. Mephisto quickly yanked it out, dropping a lit match down its barrel. “I swear to God, Azazel if you fuck me on this…”

  When the wooden bits of the gun were noticeably alight with flame, he took a deep breath, and tossed it in the river to his left. The gun made a soft splash, then it floated on the surface for a few moments. The metal immediately started bubbling and melting, corroding before the potent green liquid it had been submerged with, but as the seconds passed, nothing more than a few flames seemed to linger.

  “God damn i-” Mephisto began with disappointment, but he was quickly silenced as an explosion burst from behind him, igniting the whole river in a bright, painfully orange flame. The flames whistled loudly, a pillar erupting upwards at the origin, spilling acid and flame all over the harpies that chased him. Their screeches betrayed their deathly fear of fire, and as the river spilled over, alive, the harpies backed away, hiding in their dark tunnels. The unfortunate ones that got hit by the eruptions violently threw themselves against the black stones, trying to quell the fires on their bodies.

  “Hah!” Mephisto chuckled as he watched them squirm. The demon’s eyes now peeled forward towards the exit of the crypt, and the unending stairs that lay beyond.

  Evan pulled himself up on the iron bar with his single arm, his muscles twitching and bulging from the strain. He grunted with each set as he kept the count, a hint of steam escaping from his mouth as he did. The cell was unusually hot today. The bar was something he had installed in front of his bed in his little exercise area next to some dumbbells and a weight bar. His room had taken a somewhat more homely appearance, with some posters, books and other trinkets strewn about.

  This was however in stark contrast to his body, littered with dozens of scars from his numerous scuffles and fights with other prisoners and cruel punishments inflicted by Aramia and her underlings. None hurt as much as the left hand he had been branded with on his back. The demonic mark of the Cripple. A stinging pain that still lingered even though the wounds had scarred and were a month old now. But pain and insult were things Evan was accustomed to now. He sought it out. It made him stronger, or so he convinced himself. As he pulled himself up one last time, his ears pricked up with the soft voice of his only friend calling out to him.

  “Wrath?” He answered, dropping down and walking to the glass door. “You called me?”

  The once monstrous visage that Wrath projected was now replaced by a frail, meek appearance. Her horns were rough, their color dwindled to a pale gray. Her imposing form, now famished and skeletal almost with her ribs poking out from under her shirt from her lack of sustenance. It was difficult for her to even stand properly. Her wings were like the shriveled leaves that she could not even use to hold herself up. But what hurt Evan the most was looking at her eyes.

  Her once golden, shining eyes that initially filled him with dread and fear when they were enemies, later with hope and reassurance when they became allies, now were nothing more than two faded pearls, their light almost extinguished. It hurt deep within his heart to see her wither away in such a manner, and it truly stung just how powerless he was to help in any way. No matter how much he squirmed trying to get stronger, how much he did odd tasks to buy favors, how much he begged the rulers of the prison, no one would have any mercy for her. She was forbidden from even leaving her cell except for the most special of occasions, and the days she received any blood were few and far between. The guilt he felt ached like a thousand flaming needles stabbing him in the heart.

  “A-awful lot of c-commotion today, you n-notice?” She said, softly stuttering. The once thunderous echo her voice exuded was now barely distinguishable.

  I’m glad to see that at least your hearing is still sharper than mine… I’m sorry Wrath… I’ll… make this right somehow. He thought to himself, trying to avert his gaze from her. “N-no I didn’t notice much. Ever since I got clapped by Terkik across the ear my hearing’s been somewhat shot.” He chuckled, sticking a finger in his ear. “Why, what’s up?”

  “I s-saw some folks p-p-passing by, some g-golems too… I can hear some c-chatter from down the loung-ge. C-can you go and ch-check?” She said, trying her damndest to control her vocal chords but her own body disobeyed from sheer impuissance.

  Evan listened intently, but with disappointment, he knocked on the glass of his cell. Instead of it passing through, the glass was solid, and his finger made a soft knocking noise. “Curfew’s on Wrath… I can’t leave the cell.”

  “B-but… why are people out then? Something-g’s going on.” She protested.

  “Wrath…” Evan said quietly

  “Dont ‘Wrath’ m-me!” She shouted back. “You t-told me not to lose hope. To keep b-believing in our friends. Where’s your belief? Where’s your h-hope?”

  “I… I’m sorry I just… this is probably just some scuffle. Some idiots out at night causing a ruckus.” He said as he turned to clean himself up with a damp towel.

  “Y-you’re probably right… I just wish…” She said dejectedly. Wrath grit her teeth and slammed her fist against the glass, startling Evan. “D-damn it. It’s not right. I shouldn’t be crying p-pity to myself like this. I deserve a-all of this. All the horrible things I’ve d-done… all the sins I’ve committed. I deserve to be locked up like an animal.”

  Before Evan could answer back, a familiar voice called out from the darkness of the corridor.

  “We’re all deserving of pity in this damn hole. Some of us more than the others.” Mephisto said, coming into the light. “And honestly, you need it more than me now.”

  “Y-you!” Wrath said with fury in her voice, her eyes going wide with hate.

  “Mephisto?” Evan said, confused. “What are you doing here?”

  “Wrath’s right. The party’s started. I’m here to get you two out.” He said, triumphantly pulling out a crimson tipped knife.

  “W-who asked for YOUR damn help?” Wrath shouted, gritting her teeth.

  “No one, doesn’t mean I won’t give it. I’ve wronged you both, you deserve as much.”

  “How’re you gonna get us out?” Evan asked.

  “This blade is slightly special, a friend helped me procure it. The edge absorbs a marker, and is able to mimic it. I baited the snake, she gave it a taste of her magic on a silver platter.” Mephisto said.

  “You fought Aramia?” Evan said with surprise.

  “Could hardly have been called a fight. But yes, I suppose. Now listen to me carefully, both of you.” He said, looking up at Evan. “I’ve spent the better part of these months running up and down this prison. Asmodeus was a stupid cunt for allowing me as much freedom as he had. Me, as well as some other prisoners I've enlisted have written a blood rune on every cage, cell, door, and everything with even as much as a lock in this damn prison.” Mephisto said, taking a deep breath and putting the edge of his blade close to the ethereal glass of his cell. As the blade got closer, a red mark appeared to pulse against it. “When I open this, everything is going to explode open. All the prisoners and all the forsaken shit I could find that Asmodeus locked up and forgotten is going to swarm the place.”

  “Why would you-” Evan started asking, but Mephisto quickly answered.

  “Would I open everything?” He nodded. “Distraction. If I opened up just you two, even with the war outside the security forces of the prison would put you right back in in no time, and I would not have a second chance to get you out.”

  “I see, you hope in the chaos, we can make our escape then?”

  “No.” Mephisto said bluntly. “Escape is currently impossible for all of us.”

  “Then what? Why?” Evan said, his face scrunching up in confusion.

  “Listen to me, there’s an important reason why the first rule is ‘no one leaves this place’. I don’t know what exactly, but I know where. There’s a place where not even I could enter. A place Krank told me about and assured me of. He had managed to infiltrate it hundreds of years ago. That’s where the secret of Dudael lies.”

  “Krank, huh? I know him, we've met out and about often. But do you trust him on such an important thing?” Evan asked, unsure.

  Mephisto hesitated. “What choice do we have?”

  “So be it. What do you want us to do?”

  “First go to the vault, get some clothes, supplies, some weapons. There’s going to be chaos in the prison, and it would suck for either of you to get shanked by some random prisoner or eaten by some… worse thing.” Mephisto leaned in closer to the wall, his voice turning into a whisper. “Especially with Wrath’s current state. Evan, you really need to protect her.”

  Evan exhaled, and nodded. He turned around, taking his weight bar, and quickly putting as many of the weights as he could comfortably handle on only one end. He then tied a massive iron nut at the end, to keep them from sliding off. He gave a couple swings of his new weapon, assured that he could handle it with just one arm. “This should do.” He said.

  “Yes, it should for now.” Mephisto confirmed. “Then, keep going down. Towards the seventh, maybe eighth layer.”

  “Down? Why down?”

  “Everyone’s going to be going up, all the fighting, Asmodeus, Aramia, Katherine, Octavian, all the shit will be going down in the upper layers. It will be mayhem. Once I break whatever curse or seal is keeping us in here, I’ll come get you both out.”

  “K-Katherine?” Wrath, who had been quietly listening until now, exploded. “You sold us out to f-fucking KATHERINE? Is she the one attacking this damn p-prison? H-has she truly lost her m-mind?”

  “She’s here too?” Evan said, bewildered and amazed. “I… thought she died.”

  “No…” Mephisto said, now turning to address Wrath. “I sold you out to Katherine’s master, the one who controls her, Octavian.”

  “B-but… Katherine… killed him… I saw his body during the auction how…why…?” It was Wrath’s turn to be bewildered and confused. Her confusion however, went beyond just the current topic. “W-why Mephistopheles… Why?” Her head lowered, but both of them could tell when the sparkling blue tears started streaming down Wrath’s face. “Y-You came to me… you took me in… y-you gave me a c-chance. You asked me to, you Mephisto, n-not anyone else…”

  The demon was silent. He could only look at her through the glass, his face rigid, frozen as if he was a statue. “I had to… I had to stick to our deal… I had to separate you Wrath, give you over to Baal. You were just an unfortunate bystander Evan.”

  “WHY, DAMN YOU?” Wrath screamed with savage fury, like bolts of lightning flashing from a sudden storm in the dead of night. “WHY, WHY, WHY?” She shouted, slamming her clenched fists against the glass each time.

  Mephisto took a step back, thankful he had not yet opened their prison cells. “For the sake of protecting my daughter. That’s why. I did not want any of this, truly. But if I had THE CHOICE…” Mephisto’s voice climbed an octave in anger, his fist slamming back against the glass, startling Wrath and making her step back. “Everything I’ve done since I found out was for her sake. For cherishing the last memory I have of Camael. If I was given the choice, a hundred times over, between saving you, or saving Uriel, I would choose to save Uriel every time. Every. Single. Time.”

  Wrath was stunned. Her golden eyes took a slightly orange tint, perhaps from the puffiness of her red eyelids and the tears that streamed from them down her cheeks. “You h-had no right… You used me… I thought-t you were giving me a chance at… r-redemption… f-friendship… and you’ve done nothing but use me… It was nothing but a lie. My h-heart was always meant to be broken, no? I never meant anything more than a tool would to you, did I?”

  “No.” Mephisto turned away, but stopped for a moment. His eyes cast in shadow. “I do not regret what I have done, what I had to do but I… would at least give you the peace of mind to know that I never wanted this. Perhaps this friend that’s been with you will be your redemption. And truly, I am sorry, both of you.”

  Wrath slumped down to the floor. Unable to control herself with all the pain and suffering she had endured, and now, with this crushing heartbreak, Wrath simply burst into a loud, aching sob. In that moment Evan did not see a monster, nor a demon or angel or some eldritch creature of the night, but only a girl he loved whose heart was broken with betrayal, and his own heart cried out in echo.

  “Mephisto…” Evan finally spoke up, wiping away his tears, the sight of Wrath crying awakening from his trance. His voice was still, unwavering, like the sheen over a perfectly unmoving lake that deceptively hid its treacherous depths. “Open the doors for us, and then you have five seconds to leave. We’ll follow your plan and go down, but do not come back for us. We’ll find our own way out. If I ever see you again I will rip you apart with my own hand.” The threat gently came.

  Mephisto lingered for a few more moments, his shoulders slumped sadly. “Acceptable terms I suppose. For what its worth, I did enjoy the time we spent together, kid. Keep her safe for me.”

  “I will, but not for you.” Evan’s final words to him rang out coldly.

  With that, Mephisto nodded, and stabbed the glass. Aramia’s crimson magic shattered the blood rune and once it faded, the whole glass cell exploded. The shards instantly vanished into dust. Throughout the whole prison, each rune vibrated violently, echoing with the spark of dark magic that was cast upon it. A blinding flash of red light shone brightly, like a dying star throughout the depths of Dudael. With its disappearance, hell was uncaged.

  alone must find it within the shadows hidden in your soul."

  - Song Of The Void - The Tale Of The Prince And The Red Door: Chapter II

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