Aiden

There is a world between ours and the afterlife. A place where no light enters. Where no life escapes.

This place was created as punishment for an Element’s selfishness. But the prison became his kingdom. With every deal he made, that kingdom grew. And so did his strength.

Darkness can flourish too. And if you look at the spires of ash and decay, the withered tendrils of rotted shrubbery, one might have once mistaken it for verdure, or some kind of blossoming. If only death could blossom.

At the very heart of it all, Votum only ever wanted love, the unconditional love of a mother. But love is hardly unconditional, even a godly kind. And if he could not achieve the attention he desired through recognition, he would get it through punishment. It’s a familiar story, they always are.

But I feel nothing for him. No empathy, no sympathy, no pathos. Nothing.

I open my eyes to darkness. And I claw my way out, into the gray.

Thorned black vines have coiled themselves around my body, mummifying me where I lay. I wonder how long I have been in that darkness, waiting. Watching. Dying. It was almost peaceful. 

With a wince, I tear at those vines, eager to free myself from this thorned prison. The vines shriek, writhing like snakes as I dig my dagger into the tensile flesh. Eventually, they surrender, skirting along the muddy rot beneath my body in search of a new victim. Preferably one with no teeth and no blade.

The sky here is blanketed in a thick gray smog. It coats the inside of my throat and forces me to cough, though that does nothing to clear my lungs. Through that smoky haze all I can see is shades of gray. Isolated black towers loom around me, reaching their crooked spines out into the distance, higher than the smoke. There are no signs of life. Just vacancy.

But I am not alone here.

Blood gathers at my wrist where the thorns have sliced through. My scars are back, so are my marks. My wounds too.

Blood beads along the bone and a droplet slips past my fingers. Just one. But the echo it leaves in the wind is loud. The shriek I hear next is louder.

All at once I realize where I am, why I’m here. As though finally breaking through the crest of a wave. I am a living thing in the land of the dead. That is a very dangerous thing to be.

The shriek is louder this time, throws every hair on my body on edge. I don’t have the time to run so I climb back beneath the dark undergrowth, praying it will hide me well enough. I press my lips over the wound in an attempt to mask the smell of blood.

And then I see it. It does not look the way they do in the living world, a shadowy image with no distinct definition. It is pale and faceless and corroded, all limbs and fingers, skin stretched thin and joints bloated like a corpse left out too long in the sun.

Through the cover I see its face transform. The skin rips itself apart, gushing black blood as rows of teeth gnaw their way through. The face half-folds into itself, and murky gray eyes roll into empty sockets, scouring the underbrush for me.

I have to clench my eyes to slow my heart. Act dead. Be dead. But I can’t keep them closed for long. My nerves won’t let me.

The creature climbs down the rocks on all fours, sniffing the air for blood. It tastes like rusted iron on the tip of my tongue.

It creeps closer, closer until I’m forced to face the fact that I’m going to have to do something. I have to kill it before it kills me.

I grope for a stone half-buried in the mud. And, with as much strength as I can quietly enforce, throw it as far as I can.

The creature straightens. With a screech, it pounces in its direction. And I don’t think, I just move.

I roll out from the bushes, dagger in hand, and lunge. The blade sinks deep into the back of the demon’s neck with ease, piercing its tougher layer of skin like butter. It screeches, swatting at me as it turns. I step back with my hand in front of me, summoning fire at my fingertips. But the creature doesn’t step back like I expect it to. In fact, it rushes forward, hurdling through the flames.

“Fuck,” I shout, and roll away before it can sink its teeth into my shoulder. In the distance, more shrieks pierce through the darkness. That was a mistake. I must have just signaled to everything here my arrival. I swing a dead branch at it, which does nothing but taunt it further.

It slams its body into me, knocking me to the ground, and I use the branch to wrestle it away, to preserve some space between us before it can attack again. With a grunt, I use my free hand to scour for the blade buried above its shoulder blades. When it lunges forward again, my fingers wrap around the hilt and everything after that moves quickly. I slice upward, digging deep into flesh, and use its shock against it, twisting us around to stab through the back of its head. The blade punctures through the front of the skull, sailing right between its eyes.

It falls back, slack with death.

I don’t have time to catch my breath. I hear the sound of more screaming somewhere behind me and decide not to chance it. I tug hard and the dagger unlodges with a squish.

“Gross,” I whisper, wiping the black blood off on the dirt. And then I’m sprinting into the shadows, headed for the tallest tower. It stretches far higher than the others, scraping the dead sky like black, contorted bones. They must be there. They must be.

The closer I get, the warmer the blade in my hand grows.

I imagine Votum sitting on a throne at the very top, peering down at me, waiting. I shove my way through the vacant courtyard. I feel like I’m stepping into a trap, but what other choice do I have?

My blade stays at the ready in my hand, my guard up. But it’s empty in the tower. Every hallway, every staircase, all empty.

The stairs within the tower spiral down, so far down that I can barely see the bottom. I’m tempted to send a flash of fire down to see what awaits me down there, but I know better. Whatever I’m stepping into, I’m stepping into blindly.

The staircase feels like a form of hell itself, an eternal stretch of nothingness. My knees burn, my feet hurt, my ribs are cramping. Save for the sound of my feet hitting each stone step, it’s completely silent.

When my feet finally hit ground, the blade in my hand is so hot that I have to wrap it in the sleeve of my sweatshirt. Even then it feels like my fingers are burning.

I’m standing in front of a set of giant arched doors. With my heart in my throat, I shove through them.

Beyond a simple stone platform, the room drops into a chasm, a ravine filled with shimmering gold coins. I look around, half expecting to see a giant dragon or something. But it’s just me.

It’s too easy. That’s what I'm afraid of.

Against my better judgment, I step into the hall. The doors slam shut behind me. I shove my body against the doors only to find myself locked inside. I knew it.

My feet trudge toward the edge of the platform. I don’t really have a choice at this point. I just hope the coins will soften the fall.

I shout a curse as I slam into the first mound of gold coins, hitting far harder than I expected to. The skin on my hips and arms are tender, preparing for bruising. I open my eyes, which had fallen shut on my descent, and look around. Half buried in treasure, my stomach sinks down to my toes. Something’s wrong.

There is no enchantment, no energy around the coins. The air hangs dead around me.

I gather a handful and hold them up to the light, inspecting their inscription. If they are real, they're useless. I toss them aside and dig deeper, scouring around for one enchanted coin.

What the hell is the point of having these then? All those people gave up their souls to be… a forgotten trophy in exchange for some dwindling mortal cause. That’s beyond evil. To take advantage of a human’s desperation, to condemn them to damnation, for nothing but a consecrated temper tantrum.

Just one of these coins could have saved him. Just one.

Panic bubbles from my stomach to my chest, lodging itself in my windpipe. So this was pointless. It was all pointless.

What if there really is no way of saving Alex? Oh god. Oh my god.

The last bits of thread holding my heart together snap. I’m too distraught to even cry. I’m just numb. I am coated in it, consumed by it.

If I failed him… Alex is stuck here, all alone. What have I done?