ã€ŠIt&#x27;s All The Rageã€‹


 1 - Hellbound

    The room was freezing, it stung his naked skin like a rippling tide of needles. The air smelt of industrial strength sanitiser, pinched with the tang of artificial cold. The tiled ground hurt his bare knees, awkwardly positioned as he was with arms tied behind the waist. It was not the cold or the discomfort that bothered him most, however. No, the worst of it was the crying, steady sobs from behind that left him feeling hollow, empty inside. He had entered this room with cold fury, defiant in the face of brutal captors. Then there had been the declaration. Then there had been the tears. The flame had been doused and left only the hollow it burnt within him. There was a voice from out of sight, cool and calm.

    ¡®Do it.¡¯

    The sobs stuttered with a gasp. A crack reverberated.

    And he was torn to pieces.

    <hr>

    Mickie woke with a heaving scream, expelling the air in his lungs so fast that they cramped in protest. He had been pulled apart at the seams and dragged into icy depths of incomprehensible darkness. It had been so long, an unending nightmare of agony with the only other sensation being that of movement. A nameless unidentifiable force dragging him ever downwards, deeper into the dark. Mickie took the time to settle his breathing before opening his eyes, already that unending nightmare was growing distant in the way dreams usually did. As the memory of pain grew foggy it was replaced by another, one of white tiles and the grating sound of sobbing. Immediately Mickie sat bolt upright, his eyes opening to reveal a scene distinctly separate from his last waking memory. He was in a cage of dark metal, hanging in the open air within a cavernous pit of unreasonable dimensions. Far above him was a ceiling of craggy rock, an uneven display of lumpy stalactites and shadowy crevices. It was into a dark gap between two jagged spines that the chain of Mickie¡¯s own cage vanished. Panic was slow in coming for him, the absurdity of his surrounds stunning Mickie into slack jawed awe for a time.

    Hanging in the void all about him were innumerable other cages, varying in size and yet all with one feature in common. They were all empty. Mickie turned to get a better look at his surrounds and felt rough fabric pulling at his thighs. Briefly he noted that he had clothes on once more, a coarse tan shirt and pants that rubbed irritably against his skin. He had no context for the journey between the freezer room and this hanging prison. Only the feeling of distance between his last memories and the strange place in which he found himself. Then there was the other thing that came with his recollection of the cold room. The feeling of a barrel to his head. The crack that sent him into the dark.

    Sweat broke out up Mickie¡¯s back and he swallowed against a suddenly churning stomach. Feeling the back of his head there was nothing, no wound or scar to justify what his memory indicated had occurred. Attempting to breath deep and reign in his racing thoughts, Mickie turned his attention to the edge of the cage. From where he sat in the centre the solid bottom blocked the view of anything below the distant walls. Turning onto hands and knees he made a slow crawl towards the nearby dark rods that bounded his prison. The journey was treacherous, every slight shift in weight sending the cage rocking. Mickie made it the edge and pressed his head against the metal, straining to peer below. When he caught sight of what awaited in the depths, he wished he hadn¡¯t.

    A darkness that hurt to look at. One that was emptier than the space between stars yet had the draw of a black hole. Through this dark ran streams of impossible light, existing within a space where it should not be possible to exist. The twirling, looping rivers formed geometric patterns that hurt Mickie¡¯s mind to behold. Impossible formations within a place that his animal brain screamed should not exist.

    It was then that the panic boiled over within him, confusion and fear ratcheting into primal desperation. Mickie threw himself from the bars, desperate to get away from the abyss waiting below. The movement sent the cage swinging and he curled up in a ball as it rocked, eyes shut tight against what lay below.

    ¡®Get it away.¡¯

    His voice was hoarse, mouth dry from the nauseating fear.

    ¡®Please. Get it away from me. I don¡¯t want it. I don¡¯t.¡¯

    His voice rose to a wheezing shout as the lines of white returned, burned into the back of his eyelids in fading colour. The impossible existence of the endless abyss below had not been what terrified him, not entirely. It was, that beyond the fear and the incomprehension, the void called to Mickie. Looking upon it he felt drawn to the alien force, to the reality warping change that it offered.

    Gradually the hanging cage steadied, and Mickie dared to raise his head from between his hands, cracking open an eye to reveal the huge cavern. It was still there, empty and quiet. Part of him had been hoping this was all some strange hallucination. That perhaps Mickie would open his eyes to find himself back on the cold tiles in the white room. Yet his impossible prison remained, same as it had been before his panic struck. Wrung out emotionally, and out of options, Mickie called out into the void.

    ¡®Hello! Is anyone there?¡¯

    His voice exited the cage and rolled through the hanging cells to no response. He tried vainly another few times, the creaking of chains his only answer. Mickie felt along the bars of his cell, discovering the keyhole and latch that kept the door stuck. With little else to do he tried to prise it open, jiggling the mechanism to little effect. Slumping back in helpless exhaustion, a cold weariness crept into his body. It started with his arms, crawling up to his shoulders and leaving his legs feeling leaden and useless. There was a dull thud as his head slumped onto the dark metal floor.

    ¡®Come on now kiddo, don¡¯t hang your head.¡¯

    Mickie perked up at the sound of the voice. It was sharp and squeaky, like that of mouse in a children¡¯s cartoon. He sat up, attempting to identify the speaker.

    ¡®Bit rude to just ignore me I¡¯d say.¡¯

    With eyes wide open Mickie tracked the voice to its source. Perched upon the a chain link above was a red figure. It was about the size of a hand and appeared like a human scaled down to the proportions of a rat. Golden pinpricks glinted from a tiny red face. The little creature noted Mickie¡¯s attention and slid from the chain link. It swung between the metal of the bars and performed a graceful flip before landing.

    ¡®Uh, hello?¡¯

    Mickie spoke hesitantly to it. The figure performed a theatrical bow, sweeping an arm to one side and bending so low its black hair brushed the ground.

    ¡®Good day to you, dearly departed. I am one Miz-Mag, proud patroller of these hallowed hanging homes.¡¯

    The figure, Miz-Mag, swept an arm out at the surrounding cages.

    ¡®Um, hi. I¡¯m uh, Mickie.¡¯

    ¡®Mickie! A pleasure, truly, a pleasure.¡¯

    The little figure stood straight, and Mickie belatedly noted it lacked any clothing. In fact, its body was completely vacant of the usual human accoutrements. Miz-Mag appeared androgenous, like a porcelain doll with a dull red lustre.

    ¡®Now then dear Mickie, I could not help but overhear the calamitous racket you made from within your cage. Would I be correct in assuming you find yourself unexpectedly incarcerated?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, I.¡¯

    He swallowed a lump.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know how I got here.¡¯

    Mickie hesitated, examining the curious creature.

    ¡®Sorry, I hope you don¡¯t mind, but uh, what are you?¡¯

    Miz-Mag did not seem to mind the question at all, instead darting forward to leap upon his outstretch knee. Mickie just barely managed to stop himself from flicking the little figure off in alarm.

    ¡®As I just said, I am Miz-Mag, unquestionably unique in both manner and form. I reside here, deep within the gentle underbelly of the palace.¡¯

    ¡®The palace?¡¯

    Mickie glance about.

    ¡®This doesn¡¯t look like a palace.¡¯

    ¡®Ah my dear boy, that is because we are below the palace. Spending time hanging above oblivion within the beautiful Evergaol.¡¯

    The little red figure peered up at him, golden eyes glinting.

    ¡®Though it astounds me that you do not even know where it is you reside, I shall endeavour to educate you. My friend, you find yourself within the dungeon at the base of the royal palace.¡¯

    Miz-Mag swept its arm theatrically.

    ¡®The most hospitable hospice available in Hell¡¯s ninth circle.¡¯

    Mickie stared incredulously.

    ¡®Hell?¡¯

    He glanced about once more. While not particularly pious Mickie had heard enough about afterlife to gather that Hell was usually a bit more fire and brimstone.

    ¡®This sure doesn¡¯t look like hell.¡¯

    Miz-Mag released a chirping cackle.

    ¡®Ah dear boy. You will soon come to believe me as to your location, I¡¯m sure.¡¯

    Mickie was a bubbling mix of sceptical, terrified, and overwhelmed. He probably would have laughed at the claim if not for the alien figure and the otherworldly surrounds. The feeling of the barrel pressed to the back of his head returned. Mickie rubbed the spot, still feeling nothing but the hair on his head. Sighing he looked up at the distant cavernous roof.

    ¡®Guess I wasn¡¯t good enough for a trip upstairs.¡¯

    Miz-Mag patted his knee consolingly.

    ¡®Ah, I wouldn¡¯t worry about it kid. What is curious, is that you have found yourself here, with me, on the ninth circle.¡¯

    The creature did an abrupt summersault from Mickie¡¯s knee, landing on the floor of the cage with a small finger pointed at him.

    ¡®One might even call it providence.¡¯

    Mickie was about to ask what it meant by that when his cage gave a shudder. The hanging prison began to shift and jolt, forcing Mickie to grab the bars and keep steady. Miz-Mag appeared not to notice the bouncing ride, feet glued to the floor like they were magnetized.

    ¡®Oh my, it would appear our time is running short. Your jailor must have heard your howling.¡¯

    Mickie gave his strange companion a concerned look before turning to the surrounding cages. It did indeed appear as if his prison was rising. Miz-Mag drew back his attention with a pinch to the foot.

    ¡®Now kid, would I be correct in saying you do not believe you should be here?¡¯

    Mickie nodded rapidly in affirmation.

    ¡®And would I be further correct in assuming that you would like to leave Hell entirely, go handle any unfinished business on the surface.¡¯

    Mickie hesitated at that, the surface? Was the little creature talking about coming back to life? The cage gave a sudden jolt and Mickie gasped in fear as he caught a glimpse of the impossible void below.

    ¡®Yes! Yes, just get me out.¡¯

    Miz-Mag laughed in glee.

    ¡®Then do I have a deal for you!¡¯

    The little figure clapped its hands and a strange glowing symbol appeared in the air before it. A collection of lines, glowing black, that twisted and twirled to form a rough circle. Mickie made out distinct shapes chasing one another to form the border. A lion, a wolf, and some kind of big cat, maybe a leopard. Within the circle was a strange twisting character of some unknown language. It sat near the top of the circle, where the number twelve would be on an clock. The symbol floated before Mickie, keeping steady in his sight as the cage shifted.

    ¡®As it happens, I am also looking to leave this drafty hole. If we help each other in through equitable partnership both our needs can be met!¡¯

    Mickie glanced from the glowing symbol to the ecstatic Miz-Mag, then back to the symbol again. Mickie had still heard the tales of unfortunates who made convenient deals with the denizens of Hell. Glancing at the ceiling he realised time was beginning to run short.

    ¡®What are the terms of this deal?¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s eyes glowed golden.

    ¡®Oh simple, my dear friend. You will assist me in moving up, and I will grant you the power to make it out of here.¡¯

    The dark hole in the rocks was looming before the pair.

    ¡®Moving up?¡¯

    He looked upwards as the clicking of the chain grew louder and could make out dull metal past the ceiling of stone.

    ¡®What¡¯s up there? Why is this thing just floating?¡¯

    The symbol remained in the air before Mickie as the clanking of the cage echoed across the encroaching stone. Miz-Mag glanced furtively into the darkness above before scuttling into a shadow behind him.

    ¡®Times short kiddo. Deal¡¯s the only way you¡¯re making it out of this hole.¡¯

    Mickie looked to the dark image of the three large predators and the strange character, still hesitating. They reached the stony ceiling, rattling toward a ragged hole in the rock.

    ¡®I can¡¯t make a deal like this, I don¡¯t even get to negotiate on it.¡¯

    There was a sharp scoff, Mickie could just barely make out the glint of eyes in the shadows.

    ¡®No time. Its battle or burn kid.¡¯

    The cage passed through the gap in the stones and emerged into a massive chamber. Mickie rapidly glanced about, searching for his jailor. Steel catwalks were haphazardly strewn about, linking stone pillars to walls of dark metal. Chains hung from the ceiling everywhere, running to cages hung across the room or disappearing into gaps in the stone. Mickie followed the path of his own chain through a system of ceiling pulleys and into a massive winch. It was by the huge controls of this device that Mickie saw it. The monster turned from an array of levers and towards him. A thing of shining chitinous plate and narrow, sharp limbs. Six legs emerged from a bulbous torso coloured deep green. At the front of the thing emerged an oddly human shaped body, like the top half of a person in insectile armour. Its arms were horribly long and multi jointed, as the monster started moving towards Mickie they worked alongside the legs to navigate the complex terrain. Miz-Mag spoke up again, its voice sounding right in his ear.

    ¡®It¡¯s coming. Take the deal or you¡¯re dead.¡¯

    ¡®What the fuck.¡¯

    Mickie whispered in horror as the beast moved among the cages and catwalks like a spider on a web, steadily closing on him.

    ¡®You want to be bug shit kid? Take the deal.¡¯

    He could make out the monster¡¯s face as it closed. It was that of a human but for chitinous plating and an insectile jaw of twitching mandibles.

    ¡®Take it kid.¡¯

    Mickie looked to the glowing symbol, his hesitation fading under the rising dread.

    ¡®Take it.¡¯

    Now it was closing Mickie registered the monster¡¯s size. At least ten feet tall and just as long. The clicking and chittering it made as it neared set his skin crawling.

    ¡®Come on kid.¡¯

    The terror of it all was overwhelming. Why was he here? He didn¡¯t belong here? What did he do to deserve this?

    ¡®Just take it. I can help. Just take the deal.¡¯

    Mickie looked at the dark light before him. He wanted out of this place.

    ¡®Yes. Do it.¡¯

    Mickie reached forward and grasped the symbol. His hand passed right through, and the strange image winked out. There was nothing. It had disappeared and now he had nothing. Then a voice rang out in his head, deep, rich, and dripping with menace.

    Oh my. Oh yes. It¡¯s about time.

    Then came pain. Unlike anything he had felt before. A burning spike centred upon his right hand that sent shocks throughout his body. Mickie seized up, unable to move or breath with the agony. Through the tears clouding his vision he saw the jailor reaching his cage. He screamed in silence with the pain and fear, helpless to act. A long arm reached for the door of his cage. Rather than a key the monster slid long thin fingers into the lock, twitching them for a few moments. Mickie drooled, hardly processing the beast anymore through the fog of his torment. The lock clicked and the door swung open. A hand came through the opening to scoop his twitching form from the floor. It wrapped long fingers about Mickie¡¯s waist and lifted him effortlessly into the air. The monster brought him face to face with it, human eyes a rich blue tinged with hungry curiosity. With a final pulse of agony, the pain abruptly faded and Mickie fell limp in the jailors grip, heaving ragged breaths. For moments he was encapsulated by a relief so total it blanked out his surroundings. Then a shifting, clicking mouth drew his attention and the panic returned in a gut-wrenching surge.

    ¡®Oh shit. Oh SHIT!¡¯

    He started squirming but the hand that held him was iron. He could feel the thin fingers, digging into his skin, cutting his flesh as he struggled. The monster made a strange clicking sound, leaning its large head towards him. It was going to bite his damn head off. Mickie raised his hands to the beast, desperate for a way out. As he did his right hand burned with heat momentarily.

    CRACK

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Mickie was suddenly airborne, flying back from his captor with a right arm that ached from sudden pain. He landed heavily on a catwalk, something clattering loudly to the steel beside him. There was an inhuman screeching nearby that cut through his dazed mind. Mickie sat up abruptly, still feeling the tight grip of the monster¡¯s fingers. The hand was still wrapped around him, attached to an arm that ended in a jagged stump of shattered chitin and green ichor. Further down the catwalk, beside his cage, the jailor stood wailing with its remaining arm wrapped about a mangled shoulder, oozing green fluid to the steel below.

    Swallowing bile and scrambling back from the monster, Mickie gasped for breath around the panic clouding his senses. His bare back bumped against something on the catwalk, and he cast a look over his shoulder. An object of shiny metal and bleached bone lay in his path. It was about the length of his forearm and hand together. The majority of that length was made up by three conjoined cylinders of shiny steel. These were attached to a handle that looked to be carved bone. Mickie stared at the familiar shape. It was a gun. Not of a kind he could Identify easily, a bulky thing with three barrels forming a triangle and what appeared to be shaped metal designs along its length.

    Mickie¡¯s attention was pulled from the weapon by a sibilant hiss. He had no idea when the monster stopped screaming but found the threatening new sound to be far more terrifying. The beast was laser focussed upon his prone form; eyes wide with pain fuelled rage. There was a moment of silence as the monster and man locked gazes before movement erupted. Mickie fumbled behind himself for the strange gun, grasping the handle in a clumsy grip. The insectile creature bore down upon him, remaining arm drawn back for a stabbing strike. His fingers found the trigger and the gun went off with a cracking retort and flash of golden light. A hole was blown in the monster¡¯s chest so large that there was hardly any flesh left around it. It was like the gun had shot a cannonball instead of normal bullets.

    Poorly braced and lacking all training, Mickie failed to keep hold of the weapon as it bucked and the gun flew from his hands. It skidded across the catwalk before toppling off the side and into the abyss below. Mickie had little time to worry for the gun however, as the monster was on him. While the shot had most certainly killed it, the creature had been rushing him at speed that did not end with its life. Mickie attempted a rolling scramble to escape the collapsing body, but the severed arm still wrapped about his torso tripped him up. A crushing weight fell upon his legs, driving them into the catwalk and eliciting a pained scream. The large body of the beast had landed on his lower half and was crushing it like a vice. There was a wet tear from above and a heavy weight slammed into his back before bouncing off and rolling before him. The head of the monster had torn free from remaining body that held it. The terrible maw was slack in death, mandibles hanging loose to reveal a mouth of razor teeth. The eyes were wide open, and Mickie felt his gorge rise at how human they appeared. Wet ichor from the beast¡¯s body was flowing onto his back and the surrounding floor. The smell of it was a rotten sweetness that burned at his nose.

    Mickie shifted and jiggled his legs, managing to get enough viscera onto them to lubricate his escape. He lay flat and grasped a nearby railing post of the catwalk before heaving himself forward. The ridges of the chitinous body caught and tore at Mickie¡¯s skin and he gritted his teeth against the pain. Gradually, the corpse took more of its own weight as he was pulled free, and Mickie escaped the crushing mass. He crawled forward only to bump into the beast¡¯s disturbing head. With no pain to waylay him further Mickie was soon dry heaving onto the floor of the catwalk.

    ¡®By the blood kid, way to make a mess.¡¯

    The voice came from Miz-Mag, who sat on the railing above, legs dangling into the open air. Mickie stared at the little demon, drool running down his mouth while he gasped for air.

    ¡®What. What did you¡­¡¯

    He spat the taste of bile from his mouth.

    ¡®What did you do to me?¡¯

    The little demon chuckled with glee, it hopped from the rail to stand by Mickie¡¯s hunched form.

    ¡®We made a deal my friend.¡¯

    It padded forward until it reached Mickie¡¯s right hand, giving it an affectionate pat. Mickie realised the back of his hand was no longer smooth skin. Below a coating of gore, the skin was ridged and bumpy with the lines of a scar. The raised flesh formed a familiar pattern of three quadrupedal predators circling a strange symbol.

    ¡®I must say, it does suit you. The ladies love a scarred fellow.¡¯

    Mickie got to his feet unsteadily, flexing his branded hand. The corpse was still too close and the smell was curling his insides. So, he stumbled down the catwalk and away from the silent insectoid, moving without thought for a destination.

    ¡®The gun, what was it? How did I get it?¡¯

    The little demon trotted on the rail beside him, hands clasped behind his back.

    ¡®Call it a sign-on bonus. I need you to take me up through the circles, an act that will require a certain capacity for chaos.¡¯

    Mickie sighed at the roundabout response. It seemed the creature was incapable of giving a straight answer. He trudged along the catwalks towards a distant wall with aching legs and the hope of finding a way out of this prison. The place was large but not at the scale of the pit below, perhaps the size of a football stadium. Navigating the catwalks around stone pillars and over pits leading to the oblivion below made shorter distance a chore to cross, however. As Mickie walked, he found the ache through his body gradually begin to fade. It was difficult to notice, slow enough that the incremental straightening of his spine and lengthening of his stride did not give him pause.

    ¡®Mmm, its good to see you have inherited some good old hellish resistance kid.¡¯

    Mickie started as Miz-Mag spoke right into his ear. The demon had somehow moved from its spot on the rail to his shoulder without notice.

    ¡®How did you¡­¡¯

    It grinned into his eye.

    ¡®I¡¯m sneaky kid, you¡¯ll grow accustomed, I¡¯m sure.¡¯

    Mickie swatted at the creature only to have it leap over his head and out of sight.

    ¡®Come now, that¡¯s hardly a proportionate reaction.¡¯

    The demon¡¯s voice came from just in front of him. Mickie threw a glare at it. He was stuck in a nightmare and the only scrap of sanity offered thus far came with snark and trickster tendencies. It spoke of a deal as if Mickie was supposed to comprehend what that meant. From the stories he had heard a deal with the devil meant selling your soul. Is that what this thing was? The devil in disguise, trapping him an impossible situation to force a deal. There was probably no point in asking as he wouldn¡¯t get a straight answer in return. Mickie certainly didn¡¯t feel as if his soul had been grasped in the claws of an ancient evil. In fact, he felt good, too good for someone who recently had his legs crushed. Looking over the appendages he found them to be free of any bruising or wounds, even if they remain coated in blood and ichor. Miz-Mag had just mentioned resistance, was this what it meant? Mickie spared the imp one final glance before continuing along the catwalk.

    The silence held for a couple of minutes before the mounting question overcame Mickies reluctance and he turned to the diminutive demon.

    ¡®What are these circles you keep mentioning?¡¯

    The demon was once one more strolling on the rail beside him.

    ¡®Circles, layers, rings, call them what you will. They denote the descending realms of Hell.¡¯

    Mickie was surprised at the straightforward answer.

    ¡®And you want me to take you up through them? Which one are we at?¡¯

    ¡®As I previously told you, we find ourselves at the base of the ninth circle, right at the gates of the abyss.¡¯

    ¡®What if I didn¡¯t take you? That insect thing almost took my head off. I bet it¡¯s only going to get worse from here. What would even happen if I died again?¡¯

    The demon looked at him sharply.

    ¡®We made a deal kid. We climb, or we die. Also consider that the depths of Hell might not be the safest place to reside. We stand within the Sovereign¡¯s own dungeon you know.¡¯

    Mickie paused in his stride.

    ¡®The Sovereign? Sovereign of what?¡¯

    Miz-Mag shrugged.

    ¡®Of Hell.¡¯

    Mickie gaped for a moment before stuttering a response.

    ¡®Sovereign of Hell?¡¯

    The only response to the question was his own soft echo among the rocky pillars. Miz-Mag had vanished from sight, apparently having had its fill of twisting answers and dodging questions. Mickie spent a moment searching the catwalks and stony surrounds, but there was no sign of the demon. He grasped his branded hand and released a heavy breath. For all that the strange deal had improved his health Mickie felt a weight pressing upon him, dread of his location and situation. Surely he did not deserve to be here. While he certainly had not been the most virtuous of souls, being sent to the bottom of Hell seemed like a step beyond reasonable. With a sigh Mickie set off once more through the silent dungeon. In the distance he noticed a large platform of solid metal and shifted direction towards it. Set into the wall beyond the platform was a huge set of double doors, a potential exit from the cavernous prison.

    ¡®That¡¯s promising.¡¯

    After wrapping around a broad stone pillar Mickie finally reached a catwalk leading to the platform. As he stepped onto the wide surface a knot loosened in his gut he had not known was there. Putting solid ground between himself and the endless abyss below was a relief. Heading towards the doors Mickie noted a large padlock holding the large slabs together. It was odd that a prison door would be locked from the inside, but he supposed that the deceased warden would need to control access from within. Mickie briefly recalled the monster using its long fingers to open the lock on his cage instead of keys. It made him doubtful of chancing upon a convenient set in the cavern.

    On closer inspection the padlock was a sturdy piece made from the same dark metal as his cage.

    The keyhole looked suitable for a cartoonishly large key, Mickie might have been able to pick the lock if he had any skill in the art. He thought back to the strange gun that appeared in his hand. If he still had the sort of firepower that blew most of the warden¡¯s chest away, he would probably be able to mangle the lock enough to slide it free. It was a shame the device had fallen into the abyss when he last fired it. He recalled Miz-Mag¡¯s chatter about the weapon, the demon had not seemed concerned at its loss. If Mickie was supposed to use the weapon as a tool to escape then that might mean it was not truly gone. He looked at his branded hand, recalling a brief burn preceding his removal of the warden¡¯s clutches. Was this some part of the deal? Could he get the gun back? Without the demon to ask he could not be sure but with little alternatives it would be worth the attempt.

    The first time he called the gun it had been almost reactionary, like throwing his arms in front of a punch. Mickie had needed to get away from the insect and his body had reacted. This time he attempted to recreate the move intentionally. Mickie held his hand open and thought of the weapon, of steel and bone. The back of his hand began to ache with heat, a gradual build up that resolved in a spike of pain causing him to wince. Suddenly there was a weight in his hand. Instinctively he grasped it and Mickie found himself holding the gun by the handle, index finger resting on the trigger.

    Without a terrible monster bearing down on him Mickie took the time to soak in every detail of this mysterious, lifesaving item. He started with the three barrels that made up most of the weapon¡¯s body. Each of the metal lengths was shaped into the form a familiar trio of predators. The Wolf currently sat atop the three, head wide in a snarl with red gemstone eyes. The Lion roared out with shining golden eyes to one side while a leopard growled with gems of inky black to the other. It was the same three beasts that circled one another on his branded hand. The handle was as he remembered, a thing of fine bone that sat comfortably in his hand like an expert swordsman¡¯s blade. An unguarded bone trigger peaked from the steel body, rounded, and curved like fang from the beasts on the barrel. A bulky frame of metal held the entire thing together, its back and sides a grill that radiated a dull glow from within the weapon. Mickie held his free hand to the open slits and found them warm to the touch. Finally, the top of the body held a ridged point he guessed was supposed to act as a sight for aiming. The overall effect was something akin to a toy for aggressive children rather than an effective instrument of destruction.

    Mickie released a heavy breath and looked from the gun to the bulky padlock binding the doors, wondering if this was the best idea. He needed out of this prison however, and this door was the only exit he had noted in his wanderings. The only way out was through. Mickie moved approximately thirty paces from the door and stood braced with feet apart. He had plenty of practice shooting the guns when alive, though nothing so peculiar as the device he currently held. For something so unwieldy the weapon felt light in his hands as he raised it in a double grip. Sighting as best he could Mickie took a steadying breath and pulled the trigger. There was a flash of flame from the shaped wolf¡¯s head and the gun kick back in his hands. Being better prepared this time Mickie held to the gun as it bucked, taking a small step back from the force of its fire. The air took on a faint scent of sulphur that cause his nose to crinkle in distaste. Realising now that he had no way to reload the weapon Mickie looked for some kind of lever or pump. That was when the grills on the body of the gun released a hiss and steam vented from within. A steady discharge that ended with a firm ka-chunk. The barrels had rotated with the so the leopard¡¯s head now sat atop the three. It appeared to be some form of auto reloading mechanism, one that apparently require no ammo.

    After fiddling about with the device and being unable to pop the barrels or find a magazine Mickie turned his attention to the lock. He held the gun to the side and wandered over to the door to check the damage. Surprisingly, the metal of the lock had been hardly marred by the explosive shot. It¡¯s surface was slightly dented and blackened, as was that of the surrounding door. It looked like his gun fired some form of buckshot, the effective range of which was extremely poor. If he wanted the lock gone Mickie would have to stand closer than before. Opting for a middle ground of fifteen paces Mickie set his stance once more and pointed the leopard¡¯s head right at the lock. He fired and with a belch of dark smoke the gun kicked once more. The sound from the door in response to the shot was deafening. From so close Mickie almost dropped his gun to cover both ears in the aftermath of the screech from tearing metal. Ears ringing Mickie peered at the door to find he had clipped the lock and dented the huge doors inwards somewhat with the impact. A line of steel still held the slabs shut, though he would be able to slide it free. With ears ringing he moved forward once more and peered into the small gap leading to the room beyond.

    The space beyond the dungeon was darker than prison cavern, though he could make out vague shapes beyond the threshold. As attempted to make out what they were the ringing in his ears began to fade, quieting enough that Mickie caught the panicked squeals of a tiny demon. Miz-Mag had appeared from nowhere, standing atop his shoulder and was screeching directly into his ear.

    ¡®¡­sagging left teet kid. It¡¯ll eat us, why did you do that? What is wrong with you? We have to flee, it¡¯ll have your scent by now damn you.¡¯

    ¡®Huh?¡¯

    With a slow turn of the head Mickie peered at the manic creature.

    ¡®Time to run!¡¯

    The ground rumbled. It was no earthquake but a single rolling shudder. Then there was another. And another. Mickie frowned at the small hole between the doors as a shadow passed by it. The last of the droning faded from his ears and Mickie made out a slow rumble from beyond the threshold.

    ¡®Idiot, you can¡¯t fight it. We need to run.¡¯

    Miz-Mag was practically convulsing atop his shoulder, beating the side of Mickie¡¯s head and pulling his ear. Something came up to the hole, forming a dark object, strangely wet with two dark holes spaced at the top. A deep huff was paired with a blast of hot air that smelt like of meat stuffed in a garbage can and left to bake in the sun. Mickie staggered back, disturbed by the smell and the sticky warmth flowing along his skin. There was a brief pause, then a boom reverberated from behind the huge doors. The sound was familiar, far deeper and louder than usual, but something Mickie had heard uncountable times throughout his life. The bark of a dog. Mickie took a few stumbling steps backwards, eyes widening. If that was a bark, then the dark object was probably a nose. A huge nose. One that had gotten a whiff of his pungent, ichor crusted form. The doors boomed and shuddered. The damaged lock held but Mickie saw the metal bend slightly with the blow. Not good. He took a few more hurried steps back as a series of overlapped barks shook the cavernous prison. That was definitely more than one dog barking. Mickie got a sinking feeling about what lay beyond those doors. A second crash warped the lock further, broking Mickie from his wide eyed spell and sending him running onto the catwalks. He weaved around stone pillars with a demon screaming in his ear and a monster shaking the world behind him.

    There was a resounding crash behind him, and the barking grew louder still. Mickie rounded a pillar and chance a look back to find a sight that dried his mouth and set his knees shaking. The door had been blown open and three huge dog heads were ducking into the prison chamber. They were on the end of long serpentine necks that shifted and curled with graceful movements. The heads themselves were terrifyingly comical. Mickie had heard about Cerberuses before, the three headed dogs featured heavily in ancient myth and modern fiction both. He had always pictured something like a Rottweiler or Pitbull as the base breed for the monster, a suitably muscled and fearsome appearance for a massive beast of legend. The beast before him contrasted entirely with that preconception. Instead the three heads had the slightly squashed and bulging eyed face of a Chihuahua. They were all coated in dirty blond fur, with mouths full of large teeth jutting through the gums at odd angles. One head had a huge underbite while another a slighter overbite. The final featured a tongue that lolled from its mouth even with the jaw firmly shut. As a personal supporter of dog adoption and humane breeding, Mickie found the effect more disturbing than any brutish hunting breed.

    As the beast slid into the chamber he realised it was proportioned less like an actual dog than a ferret. The body was long and low to the ground, with thick and stubby legs built for moving considerable mass. A tail far broader than that of a typical Chihuahua followed, heavy and apparently prehensile from the way it shifted and coiled. It was more like a strange, furred serpent or lizard to Mickie¡¯s eyes than an actual dog. On his shoulder Miz-Mag broke their stunned silence.

    ¡®Well kid, we¡¯re in for it now. That thing is gonna chew us up and shit us out.¡¯

    Mickie did not respond to the morose comment, instead walking slowly away from the Cerberus. The metal of the catwalks was study and smooth, perfect for the soft fall of feet. Mickie did his best to keep the hound in sight while remaining as hidden as possible. He guessed it did not have great eyesight, the bulging eyes on two of the heads had a slight milky colouration that might even indicate blindness. The head with the lolling tongue was clear eyed however, and it was raised high above the others, clearly trying to catch a glimpse of wayward prey.

    Not wanting to trust in the beast¡¯s deficiencies to guard him within the empty prison, Mickie moved away from the Cerberus and back towards the corpse of the warden. He had the beginnings of a plan, though one that would only work if he avoided the beast¡¯s attention. The huge creature started to prowl away from its position by the door, huge paws crushing catwalks and tail winding about stone pillars for support.

    It did not take long for Mickie to realise it was on his trail. He had been scented through the hole in the door and now the head with the underbite was snuffling forward along his path. Picking up the pace Mickie finally reached the corpse of the creepy insectoid. The bulky body was splayed across the catwalk, dripping the remnants of its sickly smelling ichor onto the metal. The oozing lifeblood was far more pungent than the crusty coating Mickie sported. Feeling sickened, but with no time to hesitate, he moved to where the fallen head sat by the body of the monster. Avoiding the strangely human eyes Mickie scooped it up and moved to the ichor puddle surrounding the main body. The head had a ridged plate on the back that served as a handhold to dip it into the pungent juices. Coated head in hand he moved away from the corpse in a separate direction to the Cerberus. The monster had been closing on his position and it did not take long for the beast to find the corpse on the catwalk. Mickie had hoped the monster was kept hungry as a means to make it more enthusiastic in the pursuit of wayward prisoners. His guess was proven correct when there were a few excited yips from the direction of the dead warden followed by the sounds of wet tearing and crunching. With the meal holding the Cerberus¡¯ attention, Mickie turned to the oddly silent demon on his shoulder. Miz-Mag was trembling at the vision of the monstrous animal shredding the insectoid corpse.

    ¡®Hey, demon. Are those doors the only way out?¡¯

    Miz-Mag started and turned golden eyes to him.

    ¡®Of course not kid, there¡¯s a secret staff passage out as well.

    ¡®Where is it then?¡¯

    The demon raised a hand and pointed a fair way past the busy Cerberus. Mickie swore under his breath.

    ¡®All right. Doggy den it is. Anything else blocking the exit there?¡¯

    ¡®Smaller door, pup can¡¯t get through it so the lock ain¡¯t complicated, the gun should handle it easy enough.¡¯

    Mickie nodded and realised he had lost the gun at some point, strange, he did not remember dropping it. With the ability to summon the weapon at will he supposed it didn¡¯t really matter if he had it on hand. Running as fast as the unwieldy head would allow, Mickie moved once more towards the platform and massive doors. He did not get that far before the sounds of feasting abruptly ended and overlapping barks cut through the quiet of the prison chamber. It was time to drop his distraction. Mickie found a suitable spot further along his path between three tightly spaced stone pillars. The catwalk ran over a crevasse that was deep but did not break into the abyss below. He had briefly entertained a hope the monster might prefer a post meal nap, but the loud passage of the beast was getting closer. Lobbing the head into the crevasse was straight forward and Mickie did not slow his pace to check his throw. With the monster closing he sped up more, moving as fast as possible while remaining silent.

    There was an excited series of barks before a huge boom rang out across the cavern. Mickie risked a peak towards the beast and found two of its heads buried in the space he dropped the head while the final snuffled and yipped about the outside. It was the tongue lolling head, the one with the best eyesight. Of all the heads to get left out this one was the worst, if it glimpsed him Mickie was certain the beast would come running.

    The platform was growing tantalisingly close when disaster stuck. For the most part the metal catwalks were smooth and easy to traverse. Having grown accustomed to the perfect footing Mickie failed to notice a ridge on the intersection of between two metal walkways. His toes caught painfully on the lifted metal, sending him crashing into a support rail with a reverberating bang. Following the fall there was silence throughout the prison. Mickie looked slowly to Miz-Mag, the demon meeting his eyes with trepidation. The pair turned towards the Cerberus and locked eyes with those of a goofy Chihuahua. The clear-eyed head was focussed upon him while the remaining two had turned from their play, ears perked. Mickie dared not move a muscle, hoping desperately the oversized dog-rodent would return to his lure. The underbite head started to shift back towards the crevasse but a snapping yip from its tongue-lolling sibling pulled it free. The final head was sniffing the ground and upon catching his scent let out an excited bark that in turn got the others worked. With a crash the chase was on.

    Mickie bolted through catwalk at a dangerous clip, using the rails to support sharp turns as he raced for the doors. In the distance the Cerberus was almost serpentine as it wound between pillars, crushing catwalks and sliding over pits to the abyss. The noise of its passage was a growing racket that drove Mickie to push harder. He could hear the beast getting closer, even as he closed upon the open double doors. Ahead the final stretch of catwalk ended abruptly in a dead end, leaving an open-air gap to the platform. Mickie did not slow as he approached the rail. With large steps he leapt atop the metal guard and jump out towards the platform. The leap was a distance he would not have attempted in normal circumstances, further than would be comfortable for someone of his middling height. However, whatever Miz-Mag¡¯s deal had done to his body had changed his physical capabilities. Mickie took a moment to appreciate his newfound strength as he easily cleared the railing bordering the platform. His landing elicited a stumble that shifted to a dead sprint as he made for the door. The Cerberus was close, and he still needed to clear its den.

    ¡®Kid, the gun, call the gun!¡¯

    Miz-Mag was alternatively laughing and screaming throughout the chase and now grasped his ear with shaky hands. The brand burned as he reached the doors and shot into the chamber beyond. Behind him the crashing died as the Cerberus reached the platform and closed upon him. The beast¡¯s lair was little more than an oversized hall off stone, smelling of rot and littered with the bones of previous meals. Mickie leapt a pile of stinking remains, breath ragged and weapon in hand. He could see the second door now, a single piece of thick wood with a normal lock and handle. The shot would have to be good to ensure he blasted the thing open entirely. Snapping came from behind as the three heads attempted to snag him. Hot breath blasted by in terrifying gusts. Ten paces from the door Mickie raised his shotgun with the Lion¡¯s head roaring. At five paces he fired. There was a flash of golden light before a sledgehammer slammed into Mickie¡¯s back, lifting him clear off his feet. A moment of weightlessness was followed by a moment of intense pressure before Mickie blacked out.

 2 - Administration

    Consciousness returned to the sound of snapping and growling mixed within high pitched, manic laughter.

    ¡®Come now you over sized rat-dog; you won¡¯t be coming through that gap. Go lick your balls instead.¡¯

    Mickie turned his head painfully to regard the sight of snapping jaws uncomfortably close to his splayed legs. Jolting upright, he panicked and attempted to shuffle away, only to have his right arm inundated with agony. This pain was not the burn of the brand but a more traditional pounding stab throughout the limb. Moaning incoherently, he turned to the offending arm and found it twisted a direction that was wholly unnatural. A blast of stinking breath cut through the pain and Mickie gingerly sat up while cradling the broken appendage. His head spun with the motion, enough to almost make him retch in combination with the arm. Mickie was lying outside the single small door leading from the Cerburus¡¯ chamber, having somehow made it through the door while unconscious. Nearby was a spiral staircase of shaped stone leading to the castle proper.

    ¡®Are my dear boy, good to see you up and about. Now how about we give this old Mutt a taste of lead hmm.¡¯

    Miz-Mag had noted the returning awareness and moved to perch on his knee. Mickie looked from his broken right arm to the demon, then over to the Chihuahua head of the Cerberus. He attempted to take a calming breath.

    ¡®My. Arm. Is. Broken.¡¯

    The final word came through a hiss of pain and clenched teeth. Miz-Mag peered at the offending limb and nodded.

    ¡®Ah, that it is. Well, what are you waiting for, straighten it out.¡¯

    Mickie stared in horror.

    ¡®Straighten it out. Me?¡¯

    The demon glanced about.

    ¡®Well, my friend, if you noticed I¡¯m a bit small so unless you want the dog to do it then it¡¯s got to be you. Quickly now, or it might heal poorly.¡¯

    ¡®What a nightmare.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s the idea, we are in Hell you know.¡¯

    Mickie stood shakily and started a slow limp up the stairs, he wanted to get away from the Cerberus at the very least. The beast in question howled mournfully after him as the small demon hopped along joyfully at his side, leaping steps as tall as it was with ease. The pain in his limbs mounted until Mickie decided he had come far enough and sat on a stair. While he mental prepared himself for the ordeal ahead Miz-Mag happily chattered away at his side.

    ¡®I tell you, I knew it was a fantastic idea to make a deal with you, the way you handled the warden and humiliated old Cappuccino. I was a touch disappointed you did not wait for me before blasting that lock apart though, we might have avoided that dilemma altogether. But I got to say, blinding the pup with the same shot that busted the door, so it shoved you through while trying to grab you. Some might call it luck, but I got to say that¡­¡¯

    Its ramble was cut off as Mickie pulled his broken arm straight and loosed a roar of pain. Moments passed in incoherence, black spots riding his vision and waves of pain scrambling his thoughts.

    ¡®Ungrateful kid, cutting me off. You would be insect juice without me.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s head cleared as he listened to the demon¡¯s mutterings, arm throbbing but correctly aligned. It was long minutes before the pain settled and he could bear assembling a sentence.

    ¡®I need.¡¯

    He swallowed dryly.

    ¡®I need a shower.¡¯

    ¡®Ah the ungrateful sop speaks. Let me tell you kid you¡¯re gonna need to get used to that kinda pain if you want to get out of here.¡¯

    ¡®Shower.¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s rambling was working in concert with the pain to drain Mickie¡¯s patience. For its part the demon seemed not to care one bit.

    ¡®Now listen up, I don¡¯t have much time left before I got to rest so you better be taking notes.¡¯

    That caught his interest, perhaps the demon did not vanish intentionally?

    ¡®You need to get to one of the secret rooms that are about. Won¡¯t be hard, it¡¯s a big old castle, they¡¯re everywhere. Then you need to wait until I¡¯m back to guide you, otherwise you won¡¯t last two seconds.¡¯

    Mickie made to interrupt but was pre-empted as the tiny demon leapt up to grasp hold of his hair and stare eye to eye.

    ¡®No time for backchat. The guards probably heard old Cappuccino raising a ruckus and are gonna come looking. Slip out before that, out the doors up top then to the end of the hall. Take a right then the second right after that. There will be a painting of a frozen cat above a door. Don¡¯t take that door, take the one opposite. The down the hall for another right, up a few stairs then swing left through the door dead ahead. Pull the tail of the¡­¡¯

    The rapid explanation ended abruptly as Miz-Mag vanished without any noise or fanfare. Mickie blinked a few times and glanced about but the demon was gone. Figuring that something was better than nothing he stood and set off slowly up the stairs. Each step sent spikes of pain through his arm though Mickie thought he already felt the limb improving. Occasionally there would be clicks and jolts from within as the bones painfully shifted to their original position. The stairs wound their way upward, eventually coming to a door on a small landing. A replica to the one below, it did not take long for Mickie to realise that the large slab of wood was locked in the same style. He had not actually tried the door below, opting to blast it open rather than take the time to try the handle. Contemplating his busted arm, Mickie thought of summoning his gun to do the same here when muffled voices filtered through the wooden threshold. Unable to make out the words he still recognised the click of a key in the lock. The door creaked open inwards, swing right at him. Rather than resist it Mickie moved with the wooden slab to hide between the wall and the open door. Two diminutive red figures made their way across the threshold and onto the landing within. Mickie did not get a good look at them, only the backs of red wrinkly scalps as they moved down the staircase. He sat praying they would not turn around and notice his huddled form, ready to call his gun and blast them if they did.

    ¡®Aye Timul, just me or does it smell like old blood down here.¡¯

    A brief pause followed by loud sniffing.

    ¡®Ain¡¯t like any blood I ever smelt Biffo. You reckon the hound got hold of somethin¡¯ special.¡¯

    ¡®Could be, more like something nasty but. You ever seen old Cappuccino¡¯s heads fight over who gets to lick his bung hole?¡¯

    There was coarse laughter, growing fainter as the pair moved away.

    ¡®If that beast has busted open the door downstairs again¡­¡¯

    The voices faded as the two demons descended and Mickie released a tense breath, finally luck had swung his way. Sliding around the door and out of the stairwell he found himself at the end of a long stone hall, lined with fixtures of red glowing stones. The light flickered oddly, providing the impression of firelight within the windowless space. The effect was like a modern recreation of a medieval castle, inconvenient fire swapped for electrical facsimiles. Mickie made his way through the space, feeling extremely exposed. The directions Miz-Mag had provided were hard to recall, though Mickie did his best to recall them upon reaching the first intersection.

    ¡®It was a right. Then another right¡¯

    He paused.

    ¡®No, it was the second right.¡¯

    Checking the coast was clear he moved through the halls, jumping at any sound and eyes flitting for signs of life. At one stage he passed by a closed door only to have the something slam against it from the other side. There was a piteous moan that hopefully covered his own hiss of pain as Mickie jarred his broken arm. The limb had been improving but he still needed to hold it close and minimise jostling to keep the pain at bay. He found it odd that there was no sign of guards or staff outside the pair he had slipped by earlier. The stone corridors were bare of decoration other than the lighting fixtures and the occasional painting. The uniformity of the space would have had him completely lost without the direction from Miz-Mag. As it was Mickie had to retrace his steps several times after a turn failed to appear or a hall ended abruptly. He did however, eventually find himself before a second staircase. His demon companion had indicated that the stairs would not be that large which made the broad set stretching to a distant landing disconcerting. Perhaps he had got turned around along the way and managed to stumble across a different staircase entirely. Unwilling to risk a more thorough search Mickie hesitated only briefly at the first step before moving upwards.

    The climb was slow and presented an extended stretch with clear sightlines above and below. The corridors from before had been winding and short, providing cover and the chance to listen for any guards or servants. The stairs were long, walls bare of anything that might work for cover. He took the steps two at a time, loping up until his breath gave out and Mickie was forced to walk. The experience should have been agony for his busted arm but all he received was a dull throb equivalent to a bad sprain. There was no time to dwell upon the miraculous recovery in his frantic dash for a safe hole in which to hide. The lack of any personnel should have been reassuring but all it left was a growing tension. He could not be this lucky, eventually someone or something would catch sight of him.

    Mickie reached the top of the stairs and looked upon at the strange sight of sliding glass double doors. The brickwork ahead ended abruptly where the stairs met the glass, the halls beyond changing to smooth whitewash paint straight out of an office building. Walking up to the glass doors Mickie noted both the square motion sensor mounted to the ceiling, and the pass card scanner set into the wall. The space was open and well lit, there would be no slipping past the guards if they happened to pass by this time. Mickie wandered over to examine the scanner, it was a small black box with a red LED light gently glowing from within.

    Perhaps he should have taken out those guards from before, they might have had a card for this scanner. Moving to the door he found the pair tightly sealed with a typical ceiling mounted opening system. Mickie could blow them to pieces and get through with his gun, though that would be noisy to the extreme and he would probably shred his feet on the glass. Instead, he settled on a more subtle form of breaking and entering. He had noted a cool breeze against his bare toes indicating a flow of air, and sure enough the glass rested a couple of centimetres off the ground. With his right arm still recovering Mickie had to settle fitting only his left fingers into the gap and lifting.

    The sheet of glass was heavy and unwieldy, taking some shifting and grunting to lift from its plastic floor guides. Lowering the door outside its frame Mickie could now make a gap with which to enter. He moved to one side and began pulling the glass away from the frame to create enough space for entry. The rigid glass was unwieldy and the opening mechanism that held the top creaked in warning. Just a little bit more and he would be out, just a tiny bit more. There was a snap from above and the glass door jolted out of its frame. Mickie stood frozen as it popped free, sliding out and over the edge of the stairs. There was a moment of silence before an alarm rang out, blaring from beyond the door.

    So much for subtlety, it was time to run. Mickie took off into the new facility as the glass crashed and shattered somewhere down the stairs. The halls here twisted and wrapped, soon blurring into a confusing mass of white accented by grey. There were loud grumblings from behind as he ran, deep as if from a large creature. Mickie did not want to learn what had made those noises. He was brought to a skidding halt by the loud clank and shift of movement up ahead. Thankful for the carpet softening his footfalls Micke swung down another hall and pushed open one of the innumerable cookie cutter office doors that filled this strange space. He pressed himself against the wood, panting airconditioned air that was slightly musty and a touch too cold for comfort. The room he had stumbled into was pulled straight from an old government building. Cheap dividers sectioned off rows of cubicles in which little creatures of pale skin and long limbs tapped away at bulky old computers. In the corner beside Mickie was a single pot of dirt with the remains of a long dead plant poking from dry soil.

    Having barged into the room unannounced Mickie was unsurprised to find some of the strange creatures had stopped working and turned to peer at him with large, rounded eyes. They all had stubby legs that dangled comically from the office chairs on which they sat. One waved to him with a two fingered hand before returning to work.

    ¡®Uh, hello?¡¯

    Surprised at the relatively calm reaction Mickie simply stared at the critters as they continued tapping away on their keyboards. A clanking from outside cut his wide-eyed observation short and dragged his focus back to the distantly blaring alarm. Something large was just beyond the door, patrolling the hall with heavy footsteps. Terrified of being seen by a new mystery monster Mickie moved into the office and crawled under the desk of an unoccupied cubicle. If there was an oppice in Hell was there observation equipment too, if they could track him on a camera Mickie was done for.

    The office door creaked slowly open and the workers immediately stilled their incessant tapping. From his vantage Mickie could see the strange creatures frozen in place, wide eyes locked on the door as they sat rigid. Whatever was out there entered the space, silence indicating a lack of movement as it observed the barren room. Mickie held his breath, hoping it would not conduct a thorough search. Moments passed of silence before the creature left with creaking thuds. Unsure if the coast was clear Mickie remained under the desk for a time, wondering when Miz-Mag would reappear to guide him out of this mess. For all the demon¡¯s endless chatter and confusing answers Mickie thought it at least was not lying about the deal. Miz-Mag wanted out of hell, and apparently Mickie was its best chance of making that happen.

    Taking the strange worker¡¯s return to work as a positive sign Mickie emerged from under the desk. He cast about the space for something that might aid in his escape, maybe offices in Hell had emergency fire maps? The walls appeared barren, but something nestle in the far side of the room did catch his interest. Mickie walked as quietly as possible along a row of cubicles, coming out the far end to find a water cooler set against the wall. A classic display of white plastic with a blue jug sitting at home on the top. Two of the grey creatures clasped foam cups, sipping side by side without making a peep below a poster of a cat tied to a tree branch. Text beneath the image read YOU¡¯RE GOING TO HANG IN THERE.

    Attempting to figure out the amount of time that had past since he arrived in Hell was difficult for Mickie. It had at least been a couple of hours, though with what he had been through so far it felt more like a day. Either way it was long enough that he felt parched enough to risk taking a cup, topping it with water, and trying a sip. The liquid was cool, though heavily filtered and with a chlorine tang. Mickie downed a cup and topped of another, noting the two workers staring up at him with their strangely wide eyes. He knew he should find them disconcerting, but the oddly innocent expression and stubby legs gave an impression of harmlessness.

    ¡®You guys remind me of an alien I saw in a movie once. I hope you¡¯re nice like it was.¡¯

    Neither of the creatures responded, though one did tilt its head curiously at him.

    ¡®Not big talkers huh? I can respect that, this other demon I know won¡¯t shut the Hell up.¡¯

    ¡®And who might that be?¡¯

    The squeaky voice cut through the silent room, startling Mickie. He turned to find Miz-Mag standing atop the cooler, golden eyes glaring daggers.

    ¡®Oh, you¡¯re back.¡¯

    ¡®Sure am kid. And it appears that you decided making your own way through the ninth circle of Hell was superior to the directions I provided.¡¯

    Mickie shrugged.

    ¡®You spat out some half-cooked directions then disappeared, can¡¯t really fault me for getting turned around.¡¯

    ¡®Maybe, but to have dragged us into Administration? Surely you could have bunkered down until I got back.¡¯

    The little demon leapt from the water jug to one of the worker¡¯s heads, plonking down. The creature appeared to take no notice, sipping from its cup with eyes focussed upon Mickie.

    ¡®Boring old skin bags these. I tell you those guards though, you don¡¯t want to mess with them.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, one came in here looking for me.¡¯

    Miz-Mag looked to him sharply.

    ¡®They¡¯re onto you?¡¯

    ¡®I wouldn¡¯t go that far, the thing came in then wandered off right away.¡¯

    ¡®So, none of them caught sight of you?¡¯

    ¡®Nope.¡¯

    Miz-Mag breathed out a sigh of relief, resting its head in a tiny hand.

    ¡®Very well. You sure know how to kick the beast in the balls kid.¡¯

    Mickie downed his second cup of water. He was about to refill it when one of the workers stuck an arm out, proffering a full cup. He frowned at the creature but took the cup hesitantly.

    ¡®Thanks bud.¡¯

    The creature nodded slowly and moved away from the cooler. Its companion followed behind, forcing Miz-Mag to abandon his perch for Mickie¡¯s shoulder. Mickie followed them with his eyes.

    ¡®What are those guys? I didn¡¯t expect something so¡­¡¯

    He searched for the word.

    ¡®Placid?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah the workers are harmless enough, boring as stone though. They¡¯ve been tapping away in Admin for as long as I¡¯ve been around.¡¯

    Mickie looked over the rows of grey creatures. That he would encounter such peaceful beings at the bottom of hell, where violence seemed to be the only real language spoken. He did not feel pity for them, they did not seem all that dissatisfied with their lot as far as he could tell. There was something though, an empty feeling, loss maybe? It was something he couldn¡¯t really put a finger on.

    ¡®How come it didn¡¯t notice you sitting on its head?¡¯

    The demon grinned.

    ¡®Well kid, I¡¯m awfully sneaky.¡¯

    Mickie sighed at the non-answer and moved back through the cubicles, heading for the door. There was a slight pressure on his left shoulder as Miz-Mag fell into a seated position.

    ¡®It¡¯s good to see your arm in working order again kid. When will we be causing some chaos?¡¯

    The demon took on a playful tone.

    ¡®I may seem uptight but believe me, I can be swayed.¡¯

    Mickie flexed his branded hand, it did feel fully healed. From badly broken to mended in what? An hour maybe. What was strangest about it was that it did not seem so out of place. He had blown a hole in the warden and outrun a giant Cerberus, what was an arm repairing itself besides that.

    ¡®We need to find a way out of here, backtrack down the stairs maybe?¡¯

    ¡®Ah, I would recommend against it. They may not have been actively watching the staircase before, but there will certainly be a guard there now.¡¯

    Mickie frowned, drumming his fingers against his leg.

    ¡®Do you have a way out then?¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps. The palace has many secret paths and I know quite a few of them.¡¯

    Miz-Mag leant against his head and sighed.

    ¡®Sadly, however I have no clue where you have dragged us. Admin looks so pretty samey.¡¯

    ¡®Okay, so we need to get an idea of where we are, then you point and I¡¯ll follow out of here.¡¯

    ¡®I know it sounds simple, but believe me, those guards are about as fun as attempting to pet the Cerberus.¡¯

    None of the strange workers glanced their way as the pair meandered towards the door. Mickie took a moment to glance at one of the old, boxy computer screens, curious as to what these creatures got up to. The screen was a mess of gibberish code text and numbers, shifting and mixing as the worker tapped away. Shaking his head, Mickie continued towards the door, voicing a thought that had been forming since he arrived.

    ¡®You seem to know a heap about this castle.¡¯

    ¡®To an extent.¡¯

    Miz-Mag sounded hesitant.

    ¡®At least about the areas near the bottom anyway.¡¯

    ¡®So you know the castle and you can travel about apparently undetected, if that worker you sat on was any indication. So why then, have you not simply left before now.¡¯

    The silence stretch long enough that Mickie turned to peer at the demon atop his shoulder. Miz-Mag was sitting in studious silence, a strange, shifty expression on its face.

    ¡®W-well you see, it¡¯s the guy up top, guards the exit. He¡¯s is a piece of work.¡¯

    Mickie had been decent enough at reading people before he died. For all that the demon was a tricky little devil it had never displayed that level of hesitancy before. Strange, for a creature to which words were weapons to stumble at such a simple question.

    ¡®Never? One guard? And you couldn¡¯t cause a distraction to, let¡¯s say, sneak by?¡¯

    Miz-Mag spluttered.

    ¡®What would you know kid? The chap up top is a right menace, you haven¡¯t even seen him yet.¡¯

    Mickie made a contemplative noise. It was clear that the demon was holding something back, though most likely not joking about the danger this guard posed. Miz-Mag had been willing to tie itself to Mickie for a chance to get out. Something not without consequence for the creature if the strange disappearances were any indication. The pair reached the door before Mickie could press any further, he would push for answers when their situation was less precarious.

    ¡®Alright kid, the big boys outside are slow and noisy as all Hell so you will hear them coming. You don¡¯t want to let them see you however, so be slow and silent outside of this room, get me?¡¯

    Mickie nodded, took a steadying breath, and opened the door. The hall was silent but for the hum of air conditioning. The plain walls lined with doors appeared untouched by the prowling guards¡¯ passage, though it had probably checked multiple rooms. With silent steps Mickie moved from the office space and clicked the door shut behind him. A small pair of hands clapped sharply on his shoulder.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡®Alright kid, time for some mischief. Sculk about and let¡¯s figure out where we are.¡¯

    Mickie jumped at the noise, throwing the demon a terrified glance.

    ¡®What, I told you before, I¡¯m sneaky. Those idiots can¡¯t hear me. But uh, you probably shouldn¡¯t make too much noise.¡¯

    Hardly daring to breath Mickie sat still and listened for the approach of a guard. As long moments passed without a sound, he concluded the demon¡¯s claim was either true or they had gotten lucky. That was more than just sneaky, his red companion must have some kind of ability that assisted. Mickie did not dare talk back himself, terrified of drawing the guards for a check more thorough that the last. Taking a few tentative steps, he moved down the hall and towards the open intersection. Glancing out revealed no monstrous figures so Mickie did not hesitate to slink onwards, heading into a new region of the winding maze. Time spent wandering passed uneventfully before a hiss in Mickie¡¯s ear brought him up short.

    ¡®We got one kid; couple turns off and moving our way. Take that turn up ahead and pick a room, wait for it to pass.¡¯

    It took an effort of will for Mickie to stop from asking why Miz-Mag was whispering if the guards could not hear him. Instead, the distant thudding of footsteps drew him into the indicated hall and through a door partway down its length. The room found on the other side was a poor choice for a hiding spot, it appeared to be a cleaner¡¯s closet, small and narrow with shelves full of chemicals. It was also barren of any further places to hide, a point that thudded home with each step of the guard. With no time to step back out and find another room Mickie hunch in a corner and called his gun forth.

    ¡®Alright kid, you could have picked a better spot. Only shoot if you are out of options, its going to get crazy when you pull that trigger.¡¯

    The guard drew closer, steps coming down their hall and towards their room. The thuds came up alongside their room, before continuing without even a pause. Mickie released a breath as the sounds of the guard¡¯s passaged faded into the distance. They were safe for now. He did not move until all sounds had vanished before releasing a tense chuckle. Without the monster right outside Mickie took a moment to examine the cleaning closet. He was hunched by a large sink, built to accommodate some serious cleanup it was a stainless steel monster perched atop the floor like a bathtub. It was still a sink and Mickie would not fit within it, however he could stand in it and wash away the grime and gore coating his body. He stoppered the base and turned both taps so water poured into the tub. The noise was slightly concerning but Mickie found himself unable to care as the possibility of being clean dangled before him.

    ¡®Kid, while I can definitively state I am an advocate of personal hygiene, I must ask if this is truly the time to be taking a bath. And one not entirely subtle either.¡¯

    Mickie paid the demon no mind, instead turning to the shelves of chemicals and attempting to locate some form of soap. Failing to find any bodywash he settled on the closest approximation available, a basic detergent for surfaces labelled Bacteria Boiler. With such a dubious title Mickie only poured a small dose into the sink. He moved to pull the filthy rags from his body but paused, glancing surreptitiously at Miz-Mag, still perched on his shoulder. The demon rolled its tiny eyes and leapt to a nearby shelf. With no further obstacles Mickie was free to strip off, snag a neatly folded wash rag and step into the makeshift tub. What followed were a few blessed minutes of kneeling in warm water, wiping skin clear for what felt like the first time in days.

    ¡®You know, its strange. I wouldn¡¯t expect running water and a janitorial closet in the deepest realm of hell.¡¯

    Miz-Mag, who had been wandering the chemicals, peeked out from behind a bottle of Bone Bleach.

    ¡®How else would they keep the place clean? One thing to remember about Hell my friend, lots of blood.¡¯

    The demon froze suddenly.

    ¡®Kid, get ready to move, guard coming this way.¡¯

    Mickie froze briefly mid scrub before cursing and slipping from the sink to the tiled floor. He took another rag and was frantically drying on when the thumping footsteps came into earshot. Silent as a ghost he dressed and summoned his gun. The weapon had been sitting on a nearby shelf and Mickie had instinctively called on it instead of walking to pick it up. The realisation he had done the action by instinct wrapped up with surprise as the gun vanished from the shelf and appeared in his hand. He knew the weapon was unique, the odd design, light weight and summoning power indicated something magical in nature. It was the strange, instinctual understanding of the item that caused him the most concern, however. The act of summoning and firing the weapon was far too natural, as if he had been doing it for years, while the actual properties of the gun were still new to him. It was like he had discover his body had a new limb, shifting and feeling it was easy enough, finer control would take practice. Mickie was snapped from his thoughts by a hiss from Miz-Mag.

    ¡®Hey, focus. Get ready to blast that thing if it stumbles in here.¡¯

    The steps of the guard echo strangely as it approached, a double thudding that set his teeth on edge. As the sound neared the echo ceased and the guard passed the door once more without looking inside. Mickie did not dare make a sound as Miz-Mag let out a snicker.

    ¡®Clueless bags of bolts, that¡¯s what this lot are.¡¯

    They once again waited for the guard to disappear before approaching the door to continue the search.

    ¡®How are you going with locating an escape?¡¯

    ¡®Got a few ideas, if only we could glimpse some sort of landmark, not that there are many in this place.¡¯

    Mickie turned the handle and stepped outside. He froze in place. There was a shadow along the carpeted floor, broad and long. It stopped just to the right of his foot, extending back to a figure slowly turning towards them. He realised they had not heard an echo as the guard approached. It had been two guards, walking in near harmony to create the effect. And one of those guards had taken up a sentry position at the mouth of the hall. A hulking monster of shining steel with shrunken white skin coming in small glimpses as it moved. Mickie simply stared as a head fused with dark metal that join in unholy matrimony focused its eyes upon him. Eyes that were large, almost comically so. Eyes that were familiar, seen so recently.

    ¡®The workers?¡¯

    Mickies whisper was met with silence from the metal monster. It took a step towards him, thick legs of steel distinct from the stubby counterpart he had noticed in the office. An arm raised towards him, tipped with two long metal claws, scalpel sharp. Since arriving in Hell Mickie had felt a wide array of negative emotions; confusion, helplessness and existential dread to name a few. As he stared at the metal monster before him another feeling came forth, new to his time in this nightmare but all so familiar in the time before. A feeling that drove self-destruction, one that pushed him toward spite. The very feeling that led to his demise on the floor of a windowless cold room. Mickie glanced at the gun in his hand, short ranged, he¡¯d have to get close. The guard raised a huge foot for another step and Mickie moved in as it lumbered forward. A clawed hand stabbed at him, deceptively fast for the creature¡¯s size. Mickie lent and turned from the blow, unwilling to stop his charge for a clean dodge and suffering two lines of fire along his ribs as a result. He hit the body of the beast, a fly against a wall, registering its horribly wide robotic jaws descending upon his head. A barrel of steel met them first. Mickie fired with a red sulfuric flash and the guard¡¯s head became shiny shrapnel zipping through red mist. A steel shard cut his ear, taking some flesh as it flew past. There was stillness in the aftermath of the blast. Unlike the insectoid warden the guard did not collapse upon death. Broad legs held the heavy body upright and its arms locked up while attempting to encircle Mickie. The flesh remnants of the worker sagged as blood pulsed from a headless neck. Mickie stepped away to avoid the spray, his gun hissed and thudding to the leopard¡¯s head. The air smelt of blood, metal, and sulphur. Hell indeed.

    ¡®By the blood kid! I didn¡¯t know you had that in you, thought you were more about the running and gunning if I¡¯m honest.¡¯

    Miz-Mag meandered to the huge corpse and gave a metal foot an experimental kick. The small demon hissed at the resulting pain to its own miniature red stomper.

    ¡®Damn metal monkeys.¡¯

    The flare in Mickie¡¯s chest sputtered and died with the cooling corpse. He felt a rising sickness at the sight and smell of the scene and turned swiftly back to the storeroom.

    ¡®Was that one of the workers?¡¯

    His demon companion glanced up, shaking its head as if to clear it.

    ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter. Kid, what I told you about shooting one of those suckers was no joke. We got to go. Now.¡¯

    Mickie did not need any reminding, already able to hear the echoing thuds of approaching guards. He turned from the headless corpse to run but Miz-Mag stopped him with a tug to the ear.

    ¡®Gotta get by the dead one, there¡¯s a guard coming in from the other side.¡¯

    It made sense that the second guard which had continued down the hall would be the first to return. The bulky remains of the dead machine-worker hybrid took up most of the hall but Mickie managed to slide over a leg and past the torso with some effort. He took off down the hall.

    ¡®You guide and I¡¯ll run.¡¯

    ¡®Righto kiddo, take a right here.¡¯

    The halls flashed by in a blur as the pair raced along carpeted corridors. Miz-Mag¡¯s keen senses kept them ahead of the guards but eventually Mickie could hear the occasional thud of feet, growing more frequent as the darted around corners. He could tell they were being cornered as the window od quiet between pursuing guards narrowed and his demon guide¡¯s directions grew more flustered and panicked.

    ¡®Are we getting near an exit?¡¯

    If they did not have an immediate way out, then the pair would be forced to hide and hope the guards missed them in their search.

    ¡®I-I maybe kid, these damn halls. We¡¯ve been circling something for a while now.¡¯

    ¡®Something? A way out?¡¯

    Mickie pushed off a wall and ran down a passage as multiple footsteps grew closer.

    ¡®I thought so. The halls in this area seemed to close in on this block of rooms. Like a spiral. It had to mean something.¡¯

    ¡®And?¡¯

    ¡®And nothing, there¡¯s this large block of rooms in the middle we¡¯ve wrapped right around.¡¯

    ¡®You mean we¡¯ve been moving in a big circle and letting the guards get closer?¡¯

    ¡®Yes! It was meant to be a way out!¡¯

    Mickie swore loudly as a metal frame lumbered into sight at the far end of the hall. He could maybe take down a couple of the creatures, but if they corned him, it would be over. The block of rooms to his left seemed like the best choice here. Before the guard could turn and spot him Mickie grasped the nearest doorhandle and burst through to the room beyond.

    The space was another generic office space, including the gentle wide eyed workers tapping away at old computers. Mickie hurriedly shut the door behind him, hoping the guard had not glimpsed him entering. The far wall of the room seemed odd, set at a strange angle compared to the rest of the space. Passing the cubicles Mickie made his way over to stand before the odd barrier.

    ¡®You know, all the walls until now have been on right angles. Squares and rectangles, rooms and halls. I wonder why this is different.¡¯

    The demon on his shoulder also seemed interested.

    ¡®I knew there was something to the spiralling halls. Maybe there¡¯s an entrance in another of the rooms!¡¯

    If that were the case it did not matter. Mickie could hear the approach of the guard as it moved down the hall. They were out of time. He glanced from the wall to the gun in his hand. Looking to the gentle workers Mickie felt a pang of regret for what he was about to bring upon them. The strange beings did not deserve this place, or whatever horrifying process resulted in the guards. Mickie took a step back from the wall, raised his gun, and fired straight into the plaster. The leopard head let off dark smoke and a hole was punched straight through the white paint.

    Having expected the noise Mickie stood resolute as his weapon hissed steam and rotated barrels. The workers however were rustling and jostling in distress, standing from their desks to move away from him. They did not speak or cry out, the only sound of their fear came from the shifting of paper, the squeak of chairs and the sudden absence of typing. Mickie did not have to time to feel sorry for them, the guard was getting closer to the door, and he could hear more on the way now. He aimed the lions head to the left of the hole and fired again with a golden flash, noticing the weapon appeared to shoot differently for each head, though lacked the time to experiment. The varied lights and smells of each shot were good indicators at the very least. Further proof presented itself in the holes punched through the wall. The lion¡¯s head shot had blasted a hole almost double the diameter of the leopard¡¯s, indicating a wider spread. The result was a gap barely large enough to squeeze through, and Mickie wasted no time diving in headfirst. Behind him the door to the office burst open and a lumbering guard entered.

    Mickie was shoulders deep in the wall, having dropped his gun inside to free his arms for leverage. The rough edges of the hole scrapped against his skin as Mickie dragged himself through and out the other side. It was dark in the room beyond, the space lit only by the low glow of modern screens in a pleasant, open plan office layout. The fluorescent white light of the last room glowed through the hole Mickie had made, shining on the faces of three demons. Unlike the placid workers these creatures appeared far more traditionally impish, with red skin, bald, wrinkly heads and hooved legs coated in coarse fur. Mickie vaguely recognized them as the same species of demon that had opened the prison door to check on the Cerberus. The creatures were speechless, staring at Mickie like he was an angel from on high. With the guard moving in on his point of egress Mickie wasted no time in scooping up his weapons and vacating the space by the wall. Miz-Mag was dancing in excitement atop his shoulder, staring down the dumbstruck imps with gleeful delight.

    ¡®Ohoho, my dear boy, what have we come across. I was hoping for an exit but this, this is even better.¡¯

    One of the imps raised a clawed hand to point at Mickie.

    ¡®I-it¡¯s a human?¡¯

    Miz-Mag laughed happily.

    ¡®A control room! Oh, what luck. Let¡¯s set all the guards lose! That will throw them off.¡¯

    The occupants of the room appeared not to notice Miz-Mag or his delighted ranting. They were laser focussed on Mickie, surprise giving way to outrage muttering.

    ¡®What¡¯s it doing this far down in the palace?¡¯

    ¡®How could a human avoid our sensors?¡¯

    ¡®Quiet, the both of you! We need to get it contained.¡¯

    Mickie had started moving toward the short trio when the apparent leader got them under control. His own miniature demon could smell blood in the water.

    ¡®Drop them kid! I can handle the systems! Drop them now!¡¯

    For all that he had blasted his way this far however Mickie could not bring himself to shoot these walking, talking creatures. Intimidation would have to work.

    ¡®If you can handle the systems get to it, I¡¯ll deal with these three.¡¯

    The imps appeared rather startled as he spoke.

    ¡®What¡¯s it speaking to?¡¯

    ¡®Careful, it could be rabid.¡¯

    The leader once more shushed the chatty pair and turned to him as the sounds of crashing came from the hole in the wall. It appeared the guard was attempting to destroy the wall and enter. Miz-Mag leapt atop a desk and scuttled to a large tablet that appeared to serve as both a keyboard and screen. The demon started something akin to a tap dance atop the item as it worked the controls.

    ¡®You three. You are the controllers here?¡¯

    ¡®We are human, and you are not where you belong.¡¯

    It was the leading demon that answered, standing before the cowering pair like a gallant knight.

    ¡®And where do I belong?¡¯

    Mickie hefted the gun in his hand, making a show of looking it over to draw the imp¡¯s attention. Surprisingly, the creatures seemed to pay the weapon little heed.

    ¡®You should be with the other slaves. How did you get down here?¡¯

    Mickie frowned at that and took a step towards the leading imp. To the creature¡¯s credit it did not cower under his acidic stare.

    ¡®Slaves?¡¯

    He breathed the question, almost too quiet to hear with the guard¡¯s entry attempts.

    ¡®Now human, you will submit to the guard and the chief administrator will decide what to do with you.¡¯

    Mickie felt something sparking at that. These creatures made monsters from innocent beings like the workers, and from all appearances controlled them like puppets. They apparently kept humans as slaves either within the castle or somewhere above it. It dawned on him then why the leading imp was so willing to stand-up to him. He did not register as a threat. Humans were nothing to creatures such as this. Mickie looked over clawed hands and a torso of corded muscle. Certainly, this creature could be deadly, he would not want to get into a close quarters fight with one. Luckily, he did not need to. Mickie aimed the wolf¡¯s head beside the leader¡¯s foot and took a warning shot. When shooting the wall Mickie had gotten a good understanding of the spread from the leopard and lions head barrels. Based on this he had aimed the gun far enough to the side to avoid hitting the imp, though still close enough to give a scare. The wolf¡¯s head however appeared to have a far greater spread than he had expected. The red and orange flash was accompanied by a wail of pain as the leader of trio collapse, the skin on its leg torn and smoking. Quivering behind their collapsed leader the remaining imps stared up at Mickie in shocked horror.

    ¡®I-i-it shot the chief!¡¯

    There was a cacophonous crash from the wall as the guard finally tore through, creating a hole the size of a large door. The light from the office flooded the room as the metal monster began stomping towards Mickie and the imps.

    ¡®Ahaha, you fool, the guard is here now. Kill the human guard. Kill it!¡¯

    One of the trio before him began screeching hysterically over the wails of their leader. As Mickie turned to the approaching giant his scattered thoughts landed on the fact that demons were supposed to evil and tough. At least from what he had heard. The ones before him acted more like spoilt children, unaccustomed to being looked down upon and told no. Mickie focussed his gun upon the approaching metal guard just a Miz-Mag let lose an uproarious laugh from atop the tablet screen.

    ¡®Oh my, here we go, time to set the dogs lose.¡¯

    The guard suddenly froze in its approach. It looked like his demon companion had managed to let them slip whatever control held their reigns. Who knew how the guards would react now. The workers that made them were docile, but to be turned into such a monster, Mickie could only imagine.

    ¡®What are you doing stupid creature! Kill the human, before he shoots us too!¡¯

    The guard turned its head and peered at Mickie, wide eyes that had just moments before appeared dead now glimmered with comprehension. The giant took a step forward, no longer looking at him, but to the trio of imps still screeching and wailing. Mickie moved aside and was passed without so much as a side glance.

    ¡®Guard what are you playing at? The human is just there you metal buffoon. Kill it! KILL- Ugh.¡¯

    The tirade of the imp was cut short as the guard stepped forward and swung a hand casually at its chest. Steel fingers punched through red skin and the imp died with an expression of surprised shock on its face. What followed was like observing a moving meat grinder in action as the huge guard disassembled the three controllers. The demons failed to even provide a token resistance, so shocked by the actions of their once servile guardian. Miz-Mag cackled with glee the entire time, running along the desk, and leaping to Mickie¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡®Oh kid, absolutely marvellous. If this is how they all react when let lose it¡¯s going to be chaos.¡¯

    The metal monster finished with its grisly work and finally turned to Mickie, massive arms coated in dripping red. The sight made thee demon on his shoulder suddenly nervous.

    ¡®Uh, we might have to drop this one. You know, just to be safe.¡¯

    Mickie did not point his gun at the creature however, having recognised, for the first time, a familiar expression upon the face of its kind. The eyes spoke of pain, of a loss so terrible, that it consumed everything the creature was. It was grief compounded with a nihilistic outlook to form crippling despair. The guard stepped closer, then fell to its knees before him with a thunderous boom. Then, in a display of yet another first for its kind, voiced a sound. A keening, metallic groan emerged from the steel mouth, high and containing such condensed grief that Mickie was almost staggered by it. It was the fleshy steel amalgam pouring its pain out, unable to do anything else now it could think, could remember. Mickie could do nothing but stare, a hollow pit in his chest. Even Miz-Mag was more subdued, the small demon made no noise, simply observing from atop his shoulder. There was a bump against his leg and Mickie glanced down to find one of the workers passing him, moving to the guard. He turned and found a small procession of them entering through the hole in the wall and making their way over. The small, wide-eyed creatures gathered about their moaning metal kin and began to produce their own sound. It was not a grieved moan, as that of the guard, but something else entirely. Theirs was more a song, a rising, dipping and flowing melody that interplayed with the steady wail of the guard. The result was something sad, uplifting and wholly beautiful.

    Eventually the collective voices died out and the guard looked amongst its fleshy brethren, the despair in its eyes not gone, but lessened by its kin. The surrounding workers began to tug and pull at the arms of the giant, having it rise gently to its feet. They led the creature back out through the hole in the wall without looking back to the human with the demon atop his shoulder. Mickie thought they had all left when a gentle nudge to his waist turned him towards a small white creature. This one¡¯s wide eyes were forest green, and it held out a two fingered hand to Mickie as if wanting him to take it. He did, gently clasping the small appendage in his. While looking him in the eyes, the creature began to hum melodiously. With his hand in its grasp, Mickie not only heard it, but also felt it. A pleasant vibration that seemed to hold a meaning beyond his grasp, one that interplayed with the harmonious vocals. The humming ended before he could obtain any form of understanding and the final office worker left through the hole. Mickie stood in silence, the strange song and feel were something he would almost grasp, something seen from the corner of his eyes that was gone when observed directly.

    ¡®Well kid, that was uh, that was something. We better get back to it though.¡¯

    His musings were cut short by Miz-Mag, the demon regaining its usually chipper demeanour now the workers had left. Taking in the room properly for the first time since entering Mickie noted two actual doors on opposite sides. The space itself was an octagon of straight walls, which explained the odd angle produced in the adjacent room. One door was the usual handled office door common among the surrounding halls, the other was a glass sliding door akin to the one Mickie first came across when entering Administration. Both doors had card readers to control access. With a grim kind of nausea, he moved over to the minced remain of the imp trio and began poking about for something he could use. Bile rose alongside frustration until Miz-Mag called from across the room.

    ¡®Hey kid, shouldn¡¯t you be searching the tables before you pick at the corpses.¡¯

    Mickie turned to find the little demon holding up a card larger than its head. Happy to be free of the corpses he moved to his small companion and took the pass, sliding the attached lanyard over his neck. The song of the workers still tickled in the back of his mind, the sadness and shared grief of it made he feel acutely alone. Mickie had always been lonely, alone when he died and alone now in Hell but for a demon on his shoulder. Looking to the remains of the imps he felt the niggling of a familiar flame in his gut, warming his chest and filling the hollow within.

    ¡®So, are all the guards free now?¡¯

    ¡®All of them? Not a chance kid, it would just be the ones under this hub¡¯s control.¡¯

    Mickie glared at the screen Miz-Mag had been controlling, thinking.

    ¡®Are they all separate? Or is there a main controller somewhere?¡¯

    The demon gave him an odd look.

    ¡®One thing about Hell kid, everyone loves to micromanage. I¡¯d bet there is a main administrator with overall control.¡¯

    ¡®And where is this main administrator?¡¯

    ¡®How would I know? I look like a GPS to you?¡¯

    Mickie hummed thoughtfully, walking over to the control screen and peering at the backlit display. It was a jumble of numbers and text he could make no sense of, like the screens of the workers only more modern in design.

    ¡®Would this thing have a map on it?¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave him a wide-eyed look, turned to the screen, back to Mickie, then hopped down and started its odd tapping dance across the controls. The screen flickered and shifted rapidly, rolling through menus and displays he could not comprehend. Eventually it settled on a something he recognised, a web of lines, interlinked at right angles and connecting to various square rooms. Moving away from the controls, Miz-Mag stepped atop the map and tapped an octagonal room with his foot.

    ¡®This is us here.¡¯

    The demon reached over and pressed a few buttons. Red lines blinked into existence, overlaying the base map.

    ¡®This is the controller¡¯s personal pathways through Admin, we can get in through the glass doors over there.¡¯

    ¡®And the central controller?¡¯

    Miz-Mag grinned devilishly and patted a red series of rooms at the edge of the facility.

    <hr>

    The pair moved through a narrow passage, winding their way towards the central control room. Mickie held his at the ready, stepping lightly to avoid making any noise. Unlike the main halls of Administration these paths were built for the upper management, the guards below would struggle to even fit inside the cramped passages. The lighting here was subdued, and the walls painted in darker hues to the whitewash offices. Miz-Mag whispered directions as Mickie jogged, ensuring they kept a distance from other control rooms. They were closing in on their target and the route so far had been clear of any living presence, Mickie had not even heard distant chatter or the tapping of footsteps.

    Eventually Miz-Mag called a corner and from the visible excitement of the demon Mickie knew they were very close. Rounding the bend, a set of thick black doors lay at the end of an extended hall. There were no guards or visible protections, just the doors with a card reader to control access. Mickie made his way forward, coming up short as a high-pitched screech emerged from within the room.

    ¡®What do you mean radio silent? Go check on them then! We need to reestablish control!¡¯

    There was a moment of silence.

    ¡®No, I can¡¯t do it from here! Those idiots put a localised lockdown in effect, no external transmission allowed.¡¯

    Miz-Mag lets lose a gleeful chuckle while the room¡¯s occupant continued its tirade.

    ¡®I don¡¯t care what they¡¯re saying about an infiltrator, our sensors are getting nothing! So there is nothing! Now get into that control room and reestablish order!¡¯

    The voice rose to a squeaky roar before falling silent. It looked like Miz-Mag got the chaos it had wanted when setting the guards lose, who knew what trouble the metal behemoths were causing. Mickie was willing to bet his key card would not work on this door, this one was most likely the keyed exclusively to the boss inside. He hefted his gun, it was time to pick the lock then. Without further delay Mickie aimed the puma headed barrel of his weapon at the double door¡¯s latch. Dark smoke rose with a roar as the handles vanished from the door and a crash came from within the room. A cry of alarm was followed by outraged squealing from within. Mickie kicked at the doors, realised they swung outwards, and gingerly pulled them open around the smoking hole he had made. The interior of the central control room was as dark in design as the surrounding halls, glowing with the lights of numerous screens. In the centre of an enormous ring desk sat an extraordinarily round figure. It was perhaps two and a half feet tall and had scrawny legs and arms protruding from a circular, scaled body. Atop the boulder of flesh sat the head of a crocodile, snout gaping in shock at Mickie as he entered.

    ¡®W-w-w-what is the meaning of this.¡¯

    The same voice that they had heard from the hall came from the creature. Mickie did not answer, stepping forward as his gun hissed and thunked over to the lion¡¯s head.

    ¡®Y-y-you¡¯re the trespasser? A human? But our sensors, they got nothing.¡¯

    Mickie levelled his gun at the bowling ball.

    ¡®Quickly! help me!¡¯

    There was a reflective shine of metal from within a shadowed recess. Mickie paused warily, finger on the trigger as a sleek machine emerged into the light. It was a sleek beast with four legs and two razor sharp claws folded against its chest. A monstrous metal mantis, taller than he was.

    ¡®Kill it, kill the human!¡¯

    Mickie turned his gun on the mantis beast as it glided forward, coming up beside the desk and stopping. The creature became motionless but for its steel head, which Mickie realised had strange inorganic, multifaceted camera eyes. Unlike the guard down below this creature was pure robot, there were no organic components within its gleaming chassis. The camera swivelled and scanned the room, searching for its master¡¯s assailant. Miz-Mag burst into uproarious laughter.

    ¡®Gyahaha, I¡¯ll tell you what kid, we have had some serious luck hear. Looks like you acquired some of my talents for avoiding detection.¡¯

    It appeared that the metal machine could not see him. Mickie took a step towards it and the head locked onto the slight sound of his movement.

    ¡®Yes, its right there! KILL IT NOW!¡¯

    The crocodile ball was growing hysterical at Mickies continued existence, flailing its limbs about wildly. Having realised the mantis could somehow hear him, if not see him, Mickie waved a hand to the demon on his shoulder and pointed to the circle of desks. Miz-Mag got the message and hopped off, moving to work on a flat control screen. The room¡¯s occupant failed to notice the shifting display as it wailed in outrage. Mickie waited for the mantis¡¯ attention to shift before moving again. Once more the creature locked onto his location, this time moving about the desk towards him, claws sweeping the air. It appeared to have realised it could not see him and had started a physical sweep. It came closer as he stood with held breath, careful not to make any sudden moves that might alert the machine. The claws were dangerously close to his body when Mickie acted. He raised the lion¡¯s head and fired from mere feet away into the monsters head before diving low. With a golden flash the sensory array atop the machine exploded, alongside a chunk of the torso.

    The brief motion of moving and firing had somehow alerted the creature however and as Mickie leapt aside a claw brushed his leg. There was no pain initially, but as Mickie rolled from the headless mantis a fire lit along his calf. Touching the leg his hand came away red with blood, a nauseating inspection revealed the creature had skinned a large portion of the appendage. Beyond the neat hole in his pants there was glistening red that started to pulse with blood. Mickie groaned at the sight of it, turning away and back to the collapsing machine lest he be sick. The mantis was done for with the one shot, its claw arms falling limp as its legs gave out, depositing the shiny steel insect on the floor where it lay still.

    The resulting screams from the chubby reptile behind the desk were incoherent, not that Mickie could make out much anyway, dizzy as he was from the wound and the sight of his blood sluicing to the carpeted floor. Instead, he rose, the flame in his chest roaring at the sight of the stubby, fat crocodile. This was the thing that forced all the workers below to their desks, that turned the innocent creature into monstrous machines. He felt the blood pouring down his leg as he took a step towards the creature. Steam wafted across his vision as he lifted the gun, the barrel rotating with a thunk. Another step. Another. The head administrator wailed. Mickie stepped up the desk, pointed his gun. This thing would have had him killed; it would enslave those below again given the chance. He fired. A wolf barked with flame and the strange, round crocodile exploded.

 3 - The Mechanist

    A cone of red viscera was all that remained of the oddly shaped crocodile governing this strange section of the palace. Mickie stood at the origin of this bloody spread, staring at the remains as he supported a leg sluicing blood. It was odd how empty he felt at the sight. There was no victory, no vindication at having freed the metallic guards. He felt no disgust in himself either, no shame in having killed such a helpless being, one that had made no true capability to strike at him. A pinch of pain from his skinned calf brought on a wince. There was a light cough from the desk nearby.

    ¡®Ehem. Well kid, that was uh, that was something. The old blob had it coming though, no doubt.¡¯

    Mickie turned to his demon companion.

    ¡®Miz-Mag, are the guards free?¡¯

    ¡®My friend, have I failed you yet?¡¯

    Small red feet danced across a touchpad screen and a series of windows flickered into life on every display in the room. They were all camera feeds, strange seeing as Mickie could not recall noting any surveillance throughout his travels. The scenes were of metal giants, motionless in the halls of Administration. There was no noise, tough he could recall the sound of the sorrow that must now be filling the halls. As he watched, workers began filtering from their offices and hobbling over to the guards, offering their strange and melodic support. With eyes tracing along the feeds Mickie stumbled across a separate sight, far grislier than a song.

    The scene was of a control room, blood actively splattering the walls as a metal giant shredded a trio of screaming imps to pieces. Further observation of the various displays confirmed this was not an isolated case. Across the maze controllers were being butchered with terrifying ferocity. Mickie could only guess that the creatures had realised if their masters did not perish they might lose themselves once more. His thoughts were all but confirmed as one guard finished with the imps and then started scrapping the screens and systems on display, ensuring none could be used again.

    Killing the croc had brought nothing but a hollow in his gut, though seeing these odd creatures secure their freedom provided a measure of grim satisfaction. Mickie opened his mouth to question their next steps when another display caught his eye. The small window portrayed another control room, one distinct for a lack of active carnage. Instead, there was simply a darkened room with a ring desk, occupied only by a coating of gore and a dead metal mantis. It was the room he currently occupied, displayed live and apparently without him in it. Mickie turned to the spot the camera should have been nestled but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. They must have been extraordinarily small or well hidden.

    ¡®Ah dear boy, I see you have noticed the impact of my abilities rubbing off on you. No need to thank me, your companionship is reward enough.¡¯

    Miz-Mag had clearly noted his interest in their room, grinning devilishly as it skipped across the desk towards him. Mickie attempted to formulate a snarky response but his thoughts felts sluggish. He attempted to turn towards his companion and stumbled, dizzy.

    ¡®Ah, my friend. I believe you are running low on vital juices. We should probably get that taken care of.¡¯

    The wound to his leg was strangely painless, though the threat it posed Mickie was very real. Miz-Mag directed him towards a plain door against one of the walls. It had completely escaped his notice up until now. Through the door was a room that could only be described as a studio apartment. There was a small bed against a wall and fridge beside a kitchenette. On the far side of the room thick curtains were hung from floor to ceiling, pulled tightly shut so whatever lay beyond was hidden from view. Mickie¡¯s increasingly befuddled mind wondered if the head administrator considered itself to be working from home or to just have a short commute. The demon on his shoulder directed him to the bed.

    ¡®Kid you got to tie off that leg, use the sheets.¡¯

    He attempted to grab the sheet but found he was still holding his gun. Frowning, Mickie wished the weapon away. And it vanished. Apparently, he could unsummon the item as well. Handy that. The thin top sheets of the small bed tore easily under his hands. He fumbled a makeshift tourniquet around his upper thigh, pulling tight to cut off the blood flow. Darkness was seeping into his vision, shadows swimming in from the periphery. With the knot secured Mickie collapsed back onto the bed with a sigh. Miz-Mag moved to stand by his head.

    ¡®That should sort it out. Take a rest until it¡¯s fixed. I can feel the pull kid, I¡¯ll try and stick around but I¡¯ll probably be out of it fairly soon.¡¯

    Mickie gave a bleary nod with drooping eyelids. As his consciousness faded a thought stuttered through his addled mind. If he had died back on earth only to end up in hell, what happened when someone died in hell? He hoped they found themselves somewhere better, though all he could think of was oblivion streak with light.

    <hr>

    Awareness was an unwelcome worm in Mickie¡¯s awakening mind. The pleasant veil of sleep was torn aside as his current circumstances clicked home. Lying in ragged garments on a dead creature¡¯s bed that was far too small for him. Despite his abrupt alertness Mickie did not immediately rise, instead lying in a hapless torpor. Having finally obtained a chance to stop and rest he found the despair of his circumstance waiting. Instead of confronting the feeling Mickie pushed it aside and rose slowly, taking a moment to examine his leg. The makeshift tourniquet had come lose during his rest and the disturbing amount of blood in the bedsheets indicated he had not healed easily. His life blood however was once more ensconced behind a pristine layer of skin, without even a scar to show for his ordeal. Judging by the extended silence of Mickie¡¯s awakening he guessed Miz-Mag had pulled its vanishing act again. Who knew how long it might take the demon to reappear once more. Unwilling to move on without his guide Mickie instead stood and moved to the fridge. He had not eaten since arriving, and while he did not feel particularly hungry some food would be a welcome distraction. The small fridge occupying the room was filled with a variety of surprisingly normal foods. Plastic takeout containers sat on the shelves, half full with various dishes. Mickie picked out a curry before shifting to a noodle dish upon realising there was no rice stored. There was no microwave, though he managed to find a draw containing nothing but spoons. The cold dish went down quickly, accompanied by water taken from a bottle in the fridge. Its flavour was bland and unappealing, though the weight of the food within his stomach was pleasant.

    With the meal eaten Mickie moved to the curtains covering the far wall, eager to remain distracted. He closed in on the thick drapes, taking hold of the fabric and pushing the covering aside. Cold blue spilt through the widening gap, burning his eyes, and casting sharp shadows throughout the small room. Mickie squinted into the glow, blinking as sight slowly returned. Beyond the curtain was a huge window, one that made up the entire wall. The glass was spotless on his side but marred with icy frost on the other. He peered through to behold a wasteland. The space was clearly a cavern of some kind, though one unlike any Mickie had seen before. The craggy ceiling was so far above him it might as well have been the sky. Strange lights of ghostly white and blue glinted up there, painful to look at as they illuminated the cave in a chilly glow. The world outside was coloured same as the lights above, a frozen sea of white and blue that stretched to the horizon. Peaks of ice that could be mountains dotted jagged plains devoid of any life. Mickie found himself entranced by the utter stillness of it. There was no sign of movement, no animals darting from cover, no trees shifting in the wind. Just Ice. In the distance he could make a large fields of dark shapes, upright with vague protrusions stretching out at odd angles. Trees perhaps?

    As he watched the unchanging wastes Mickie¡¯s observation gradually shifted to introspection. He had been running the knife¡¯s edge for the past day, desperate to stay ahead of internal mania and bloodthirsty monsters. With a moment of silence, the fact of his own death settled upon his mind like a veil, cool as the ice beyond the window. He could remember dying. The sound of gentle sobbing. The echoing emptiness of it. That hollow inside reflected the cavern without, still and cold. Had Mickie truly deserved hell? He was no delusional fool. The life that proceeded his demise had not been one of virtue. But to be sent so low. What would he find if he continued to climb? Would he see people he had known, meet enemies and friends again in death. What would they think of him? Of what he made of himself. The thought terrified him more than any beast. The weight of expectations he had failed to live up to. It was almost enough to make him give up on escape. He could hide here, in the palace. Live like a rat in the walls with his demon guide.

    Movement from beyond the window drew Mickie from his reverie. An odd shape was gliding across the icy plains. Rounded like a pill and supported by six legs. It was hard to gauge the size of the thing without a frame of reference, though he guessed it to be the size of a truck. The pill approached a section of the palace outside his own view, eventually passing from sight and leaving the surrounds empty once more. Mickie mulled over the strange creature. It had a shiny carapace that was more metallic than organic. Perhaps it had been robotic, built to withstand the inhospitable conditions outside the castle. It made him wonder what was building all the machines he had encountered.

    There was a sound from within the room, a light scratching that might as well have been a gunshot in the silence. Mickie whipped his head around to source the disturbance but found nothing amiss within the apartment. He slowly panned the room when the noise came again. The origin was above him, an air conditioning vent set into the ceiling of the bedroom. Unease began to creep up his spine as the scratching grew more urgent, increasing in volume. With a click the vent swung open on unseen hinges, revealing a dark that hid the nascent intruder. Mickie took a cautious step away and called his gun, the dark eyed leopard head resting at the ready. A long, thin metallic limb emerged from the vent. Then another, and another. A spherical body emerged, a shiny orb with eight spindly legs attached. It was as if someone had taken a child¡¯s drawing of a spider and made a robot out of it. A single spherical lens rotated and shifted atop the body, moving freely to scan the entire room.

    Mickie stood stock still, knowing that it most likely could not see him, though if it was like the mantis, it would be able to hear him. The small metal critter skittered around the ceiling with little effort, camera lens swivelling in a search for life. It moved down a wall and began a physical sweep of the room, darting under the bed and over countertops. Mickie decided to try and sneak away while the creature was busy in its search. If he could make it back into the control tunnels, he could probably find a way out of admin. The moment he lifted a foot from the ground the little spider froze in place on the floor. With a foot already in motion Mickie inevitably completed his step and the moment he touched ground once more the spider darted straight for him. Mickie did not curse or swear at his unfortunate detection. Instead he raised his gun and fired at the critter.

    Normally the rotating shotgun had such a large spread that it was impossible to miss at close range. The leopard¡¯s shot was more condensed than the others however, and the small spider was scarily fast. The dark blast from the weapon took off two of the back legs on one side of the robot, though the creature didn¡¯t even slow at the loss. Then it was on him, spindly metal appendages stabbing into his flesh as the creature latched onto his leg in response to a poorly aimed kick. Mickie panicked, batting at the spider with his gun as it bound itself to his thigh. It took multiple heavy blows before the robot popped free, leaving numerous small punctures. His gun hissed and thunked, finishing its reload with the wolf¡¯s head on top. Before the spider could right itself Mickie stepped forward and blasted it into metal chunks.

    The whole confrontation had been sudden and lasted little more than ten seconds. That did not mean there was any time to delay as Mickie set off for the door. If more of those spiders showed up, he needed to be long gone so they didn¡¯t detect him. He made it approximately three steps before his right leg abruptly gave out and Mickie crumpled unceremoniously to the floor. A sudden lethargy had swamped him, turning his body into a wet noodle of nonfunctional muscle. Mickie attempted to stand, to move his arms, to even turn his head from its uncomfortable angle against the floor. Nothing worked. His thoughts started slipping, twisting from his grasp to leave behind an abstractive torrent of colour and recollected sensation. Mickie realised he could hear his own heart beating. Slow thumps with a physicality that shook him. The was something else too, a continuous rhythmic scratching that underlay the thudding of his heart. The rasping got louder, and he noticed a shiny glimmer flicker past in his peripheral vision. Attempting to concentrate on it was impossible as his sight had gotten so very blurry. A distant pressure fell onto his back followed by a sharp pinch of pain. Then the world faded to black, and Mickie went with it.

    <hr>

    Sensation struck like a pillar of lightning. Mickie gasped a breath as muscles seized and his heart pounded. He writhed with the feeling but found movement was all but impossible. Something was pinning his limbs down, trapping him flat against a hard surface. There was a ring of bright lights directly above him, blinding him to the details of his new confinement. Beyond the light came a rapid series of clicks alongside the whir of servos. Mickie attempted to call out but only managed a gasping cough through his dry mouth.

    ¡®Ah I see you have responded to the stimulus. I can hear your breath, and the beating of your heart.¡¯

    The feminine voice was soft and dead as salted earth. There was no inflection to the words, spoken from seemingly every direction at once.

    ¡®Can you speak creature?¡¯

    Mickie swallowed dryly.

    ¡®W-where am I?¡¯

    More whirring clicks from above.

    ¡®So, the creature does speak. Tell me then, how do you hide from my eyes?¡¯

    Mickie ignored the question, pushing against his bonds.

    ¡®What am I doing here? Let me go.¡¯

    ¡®The creature will answer, not ask.¡¯

    There was a blur of movement from above, followed by a brief prick to his thigh. He caught a glimpse of a thin, articulated metal appendage emerging from the ring of lights before fire burned through his nerves. Mickie screamed in agony as his body seized with pain, unable to think, unable to breath. He spent infinite moments locked in abject torment before the pain receded like a tide, leaving Mickie drooling and gasping limp against his bonds.

    ¡®You will answer the questions creature.¡¯

    Mickie did not respond immediately, taking time in silence to reassemble his addled mind. The image of a robotic spider crystalised as he dredged murky memories. With the spider came the realisation that he had been drugged, captured, and strapped to a table. By what then? He hardly dared to breath, whatever was beyond those lights seemed far to trigger happy with pain. His captor had just mentioned being unable to see him, did that mean it was a robot?

    ¡®Speak creature. Or you will suffer further.¡¯

    For something that could not see him, this mysterious voice seemed to have a good understanding of his general condition. Something dug painfully into his thigh once more. Mickie hissed out a breath, unwilling to risk the pain again he opened his mouth.

    ¡®Stop. Please. Stop.¡¯

    The pressure remained against his thigh.

    ¡®Answer the question. How do you avoid my sight.¡¯

    Mickie hesitated, desperate to avoid the burning pain but unwilling to spill his secrets to the denizens of this terrible place. A painful jolt ran through him, originating where the metal appendage rested against his leg. His hesitation faltered.

    ¡®No cameras can see me. Only living creatures as far as I can tell.¡¯

    There was silence briefly from above. Then the whir of mechanical parts preluded a shape emerging from within the light. It was another metal limb, far thicker than the first and supporting a large camera on the end. Like an unnatural facsimile of an ostrich the long, articulated limb stretch out to peer closely at Mickie, camera lens shifting as it attempted to focus.

    ¡®Only organics. How curious.¡¯

    The voice hardly sounded interested, let alone curious.

    ¡®You will tell me how you achieved this.¡¯

    Mickie glared up at the lens defiantly. It had been the uncertainty of his situation that had broken his will before. Know what his captor was bolstered his resolve to talk no further. The robotic jailor before him seemed to sense this, because it was hardly a moment before fire tore through his insides. Mickie writhed in agony for what felt like an age, his body went from twitching to seizing up completely. It was only after his mouth filled with the taste of blood that the torture ceased, and the robotic arm withdrew once more into the light. There were a few moments in which Mickie thought he had gone blind from the assault on his senses. However, his vision did return with a gradual, fuzzy reluctance. Mickie coughed and dribbled blood onto the metal table, attempting to speak, to ward off another strike. If the robot zapped him like that again he would die. He couldn¡¯t take it again. The robot had retreated into the light, content with silence as he groaned and gurgled towards coherence once more. Mickie doubted he would be walking away from this table if he talked and his tormentor uncovered everything it wanted. The robot could not be reasoned with, it would take what it required from him them dispose of the remainder. A cold calculus that Mickie could recall from the worst kinds of people when he was alive.

    ¡®You will speak.¡¯

    Mickie tried to form a response to the prompt but only managed a moaning gurgle through a strained and spasming jaw. The robot did not take this as a reluctance to answer luckily, instead falling into silence once more as he desperately attempted to form words. It must have realised the shock had almost been too much for him and was now waiting for Mickie¡¯s faculties to return. A desperate despair burned in his gut as the pain slowly subsided. He could not talk, or he would die. He needed time to plan, time to escape from this metal table. The robot would not wait forever. Could he lie? Perhaps, though Mickie¡¯s understanding of his own circumstances were tenuous at best, he had no clue of what falsehood could be considered convincing.

    ¡®I have provided time enough. Explain to me how you avoid my sight.¡¯

    Mickie groaned as a metal arm emerged once more and pressed into his thigh.

    ¡®No, no, no. Please.¡¯

    The words were hardly more than a mumbled whisper but the reaction to them was sudden and violent. Charged roared briefly through his body and Mickie seized on the metal bed. It was only a brief shock, the attack ending in less than a moment.

    ¡®Do not beg. Talk.¡¯

    There was still no trace of emotion from the robot, yet Mickie felt he had somehow angered the creature. He groaned in response, mind foggy from the repeated trauma.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean¡­ I wanted to¡­¡¯

    Words were cut off as electricity tore through his body one more. Mickie did not even have the chance to cry out, pain wracking his body before darkness consumed him, giving peaceful release. But there would be no dreaming, no release from torment. Reality crash through his veins with energetic fire and Mickie gasped awake from a rest that never was.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡®You will talk. You will not rest.¡¯

    He tried to respond but found it difficult to recall how to move his tongue and shape his lips.

    ¡®Whaa-urrr.¡¯

    A camera lowered from the ring of lights to focus unblinking upon his face. Mickie attempted to peer back at it but found the world far to blurry for focussed sight.

    ¡®I wish to know how. You have five seconds before I¡­¡¯

    The flat voice cut off partway through its threat, the camera lowering until it rested by his cheek.

    ¡®Perhaps speech it not needed. I can make my own conclusions.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s addled mind struggled to make sense of his captor¡¯s words. It appeared to have noticed something on the table, something that redirected its grinding pursuit for answers. A new robotic appendage was lowered gently down from the circle of lights. It was a simple clawed hand, built for gripping with three sharp fingers and a thicker thumb. With the utmost care a pointed brass fingertip reached past his face and dipped itself into a small puddle of bloody saliva that Mickie had coughed out. He could just barely make out the strange sight of his mess disappearing into the clawed finger, sucked away as if by a vacuum cleaner. All limbs retracted and silence prevailed as the robot processed its findings. Mickie was uncertain at the strange reaction. Had his captor seen the blood? It must have. The camera had focused directly upon his tainted spit before the arm came to collect it. He had no idea why the spit was visible when the rest of him hadn¡¯t been, though the new behaviour from the robot was almost more unnerving than the taser pressed to his thigh had been.

    ¡®Stange findings indeed little creature.¡¯

    The voice was still flat and without inflection, though eerily soft this time. As if the robot were not talking directly to him.

    ¡®Initial conclusions require further refinement.¡¯

    The clawed hand shot from the light and slammed into Mickie¡¯s open right palm, pinning the fingers apart. He cried out in shock at the sudden attack, trying to pull away but was hopeless before the metal strength of the robot and the straps pinning him to the table.

    ¡®W-whaa¡­ What arre yuu¡­¡¯

    His voice remained a slurred mess from the repeated electrocutions, unable to reason properly even if it would work on the emotionless machine before him.

    ¡®Prevailing reason indicates physical connection to the subject is required to avoid detection.¡¯

    Something large and shiny glinted as it was lowered into the light. Another new arm. The most sinister to appear yet. Long fingers of scalpel steel that curled in on one another like impossibly long nails. This was a tool for cutting, and having heard the robot¡¯s thoughts an animalistic panic gripped Mickie at the sight.

    ¡®No, no, no, no, no. Get off me. Get off!¡¯

    He thrashed but the grip off his tormentor was immutable as it held his hand ready. That hand was his branded one. What if he lost his abilities with the hand. That would be the end. Mickie screamed at the robot but got no response as the scissor claws came closer, and closer, and then retracted back away. His hand had been left attached, in fact Mickie had felt no pain from the scalpels at all. Perhaps his cries had been heard and the robot would leave him whole. It was then that the clawed appendage released him and retracted upwards holding a dripping object in its grasp. A finger. He stared at the vanishing hand in confusion momentarily before turning to peer at his hand. There was no pain, and yet the table was coated by a growing pool of blood. Lifting his arm as best he could, Mickie found an absence where his pinkie should be. In its place was a red lump pulsing blood with rhythmic frequency. All that he could muster at the sight was a dazed look, while above him came a whirring and clinking as the thieving robot took account of its prize.

    ¡®Curious. Blood indicates demonic origin, yet the flesh holds distinctly human characteristics.¡¯

    Mickie was too busy staring at his bloody hand as a deep throb set in to care about what his captor had to say. For its part the robot had little to say to him in return, content to voice its thoughts to a silent room.

    ¡®Further analysis will be required. Diverse samples might aid in developing conclusions.¡¯

    That finally caught Mickie¡¯s attention.

    ¡®N-no not again. I¡¯ll die. Not again.¡¯

    An uncaring mechanical lens lowered itself face to face with him.

    ¡®If you will not answer me creature. I will pull pieces from you until I have a picture that I can see¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s thought¡¯s spiralled in despair. He would not talk. He could not. But then it would take from him. Take and take until he had nothing left. Perhaps if he only told some of it. Only enough that it would not cut him further apart. The camera in front of his face suddenly jolted, as if starting in surprise.

    ¡®It would appear the administrator guards will not settle. I will have to intervene. I know it was you that set them loose. I will have that from you as well. Be certain of that creature.¡¯

    Then the camera stilled, and the voice was gone. Mickie stared in confused pain at the frozen lens before turning back to look at his bloody hand with a sickened stomach. While looking past the camera he caught sight of a metal arm darting from the light to jab his stomach with a disturbingly large needle. The appendage remained locked against his flesh, holding the needle in place far longer than would normally be required to deliver a shot. Mickie peered at it in confusion for several seconds before the world greyed to black and he lost himself to darkness once more.

    <hr>

    ¡®¡­id. Hey kid. Wake up. Come on.¡¯

    Consciousness came slowly this time, floating him from dark depths until Mickie could recall the waking world and snapped alert in terror. He was still strapped to the metal bed, body pinned so he could hardly move. The lights still glared down from above, though they were partially blocked at the moment, obstructed by a red figure staring into one of his eyes.

    ¡®Miz-Mag?¡¯

    The demon straightened and slapped him on the nose.

    ¡®By the stinking divine kid, you had me worried. I tell you I can¡¯t leave you be for a second.¡¯

    Mickie was in no mood to banter.

    ¡®Mag you got to get me out. The robot, it got me. It took my, it took my¡­¡¯

    He swallowed dryly, unable to finish the sentence. His companion on the other hand had no trouble speaking its mind.

    ¡®It took your weenie pinkie, I know kid. I already put it back on for you, take a peek.¡¯

    Miz-Mag vaulted from his face to the table and stopped proudly beside Mickie¡¯s bloody right hand. Cautiously turning to peer at the appendage, Mickie lifted his hand as best he could from the table and examined it. His finger had been roughly bound back into place by thick metal stitching. The line that delineated the point of its removal was red and raw, while the finger itself was distinctly grey and lifeless. Mickie felt a rising nausea at the Frankenstein sight.

    ¡®I¡­¡¯

    He swallowed.

    ¡®I don¡¯t think its works like that.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave him a frown.

    ¡®What do you mean kid?¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t think you can just, just stitch it back on like that. I don¡¯t think that works.¡¯

    Mickie had heard that it was possible to reattach limbs when they got severed. But the grotesquery binding his finger back in place did not seem like the way to do it. His demon companion however appeared to have differing opinions on the matter.

    ¡®Oh that. Made do with what I could get my hand on dear boy. Not much of anything but metal in the Mechanist¡¯s lair. Besides, you¡¯re juiced with the demon sauce now, you¡¯ll be right in no time.¡¯

    With that Miz-Mag reach over to his finger and gave a pinch and a wiggle. Mickie¡¯s eyes opened wide as he felt the rough treatment. It came through faint, as if the demon was lightly tapping his nail instead of violently jerking the finger about. The return of any sensation at all was astounding, and Mickie lay staring in speechless silence, forgetting momentarily about his current predicament. Reality returned in the form of a miniature demon to the face.

    ¡®Stop gawping boyo. It¡¯s time we got outta this hole. Damn bindings are made of metal, only way to bust them I can think of is with that blaster of yours.¡¯

    Mickie understood what the demon intended. He summoned the gun gingerly into his branded hand, careful to avoid his healing pinkie. Attempts to position the barrel against the steel pinning his forearm proved fruitless, however. A shot at the angles he could currently achieve would probably take half his torso off as well. Mickie began to feel a rising tension as a minute of fumbling slid by. If he took too long and the robot returned he would be skinned alive for answers to how he reattached his finger.

    ¡®Mag, help me out, shoot this first one for me.¡¯

    The red demon gave him an odd look, as if the thought had not occurred to it. Small feet padded over to the handle of the weapon and Miz-Mag began to drag it into place. The small creature had to alternate between moving the barrel and the butt of the gun but eventually it had the weapon in a suitable position. The muzzle lay against the metal constraint facing up and away from Mickie¡¯s body. Not completely safe, but they were already taking too long. Mickie needed to be out of the bed before his tormentor returned. With cautious apprehension Miz-Mag wrapped its arms around the handle and grasped the trigger. Mickie gave his companion a nod.

    ¡®Do it.¡¯

    A bang was followed by blossoming pain as the lion headed barrel took a chunk from his arm while blowing the binding apart. He caught a blur of red alongside the shot as Miz-Mag was launched back off the table from the recoil of the unwieldy gun. Mickie tore his arm from the warped remains of the bindings and examined the damage. A wide but not overly deep wound greeted him, speckled with miniature fragments of steel. Nothing he could do about it now. Recalling the gun, Mickie set to work on the remaining constraints, his shots far more careful in positioning with an arm free. The metal binding his left arm went off perfectly, though he took a painful gash to the ribs and almost blew his left toe off. By the time his right leg was free Miz-Mag had returned to the metal table, clambering onto the surface with a groan. Mickie looked as bad as the demon felt, torn and bleeding from numerous wounds with a finger that still looked half dead on his right hand.

    ¡®Last time I¡¯m doing that kiddo, just about launched me out of the palace.¡¯

    Taking a moment to lift the battered demon to his shoulder Mickie stood slowly from the table. Free from the blinding light that had been his world, the surrounding room came into focus. It was a barren space, free of any furniture but his own bed and a screen affixed to the grey metal walls beside a door with no handle. A cell in both form and function. Before heading to the exit Mickie took a moment to turn and examine the region above the lights. The sight made him freeze in terror. Overhanging the bed was a metal monster. A sleeping beast of unnumerable curled metal limbs that emerged from the ceiling like a nightmarish burrowing insect. He saw a camera nestled within a menagerie of implements that would make any medieval torturer sweat. The creature was not entirely whole, however. Limbs were askew and a strange, sealed container had been broken open, voiding a viscous liquid onto the surrounding limbs where it dripped onto the floor by the table. Miz-Mag noticed his attention.

    ¡®Thing had your finger in the jar, had to get up there and bust it out.¡¯

    Mickie did not respond, instead raising a trembling gun to the still body of his captor. The gun roared. The barrel thunked. He shot. It thunked. Again. Again. AGAIN. By the time his tormentor was little more than scrap spread throughout the cell Mickie was shuddering uncontrollably. He let out a sob and staggered away from the table and towards the door. Control, he had to get back in control. The body in the room might be gone but the robot was still out there. They had to escape its lair or Mickie had no doubt he would wind up in an even deeper hole.

    ¡®You, uh, you alright kid?¡¯

    The red figure on his shoulder looked extremely disconcerted at sudden violence he had displayed. Mickie took a shaky breath and nodded, whipping his nose with his free hand.

    ¡®We need a path out of here when we leave this room. You know this place?¡¯

    His voice was only slightly nasally when it emerged, Miz-Mag answered without hesitation.

    ¡®Not a clue. One thing I learnt surviving in the palace kid. You don¡¯t fuck with the Mechanist.¡¯

    Mickie took another steadying breath.

    ¡®The Mechanist, it was the thing that had me?¡¯

    ¡®Yup, and it won¡¯t be happy you slipped your chain. We got an advantage with it being so addicted to technology. Damn thing refuses to have anything organic wandering about its den. It is still going to put the work into catching us though.¡¯

    With a simple nod in response Mickie moved to the panel beside the door. The dispay was as unreadable as the ones in admin had been.

    ¡®Can you work this thing?¡¯

    Miz-Mag sighed dramatically.

    ¡®Not this one no. The robot uses its own private language throughout its lair. Not sure anyone but the Mechanist or its minions could work the door.¡¯

    With no alternatives, Mickie did not hesitate to blast the door where the latch might be. He nailed the point at which it met the frame only to be surprised as the metal bent but held at the blast. It took another two shots to punch through the latch, then a precious minute working open the dark metal slab enough to slip through. Coming into the hallway beyond Mickie found it to be no more than a brightly lit metal tunnel. The walls were the same dull grey of the cell, though they shined slightly in the reflected fluorescent light provided by tubes in the ceiling. With no heading in mind Mickie picked a direction at random and started to run as fast as he could in his injured state. Miz-Mag appeared to not take its lack of use well, fidgeting and mumbling on his shoulder. Rounding several bends at random Mickie eventually came face to face with a prowling machine. A beast with a long, segmented body, held up by metal legs joined to each of the bulbous sections. It was a huge steel centipede. Mickie stopped abruptly at the sight, hoping the sound of his passage had not alerted the creature. The robot had a wall panel open and was chittering face first inside as it worked the contents. The thing was so caught up with its work it appeared to not have noticed the light slaps of his running feet. Without even daring to breath Mickie backed up and slipped away down another hall. After another few turns, he found a door of bulky metal. The obstruction had no handles, same as the one to his cell, access appeared to be controlled exclusively through a panel set into the wall. Mickie examined the device and gave his resident demon an inquisitive look.

    ¡®Sorry kid, same as the last.¡¯

    Without a path through the door, he would have to backtrack again. Another time delay when he could least afford it. Soon his escape would be discovered, either by the Mechanist itself or some robot minion. The door clunked heavily and rumbled open. Sound pounded into the hall, a cacophonous roar of overlapping noise that drowned out the surrounding hum of fluorescent lights. Mickie caught a glimpse of metal through the threshold and immediately pressed himself against a wall. Before the door had even finished sliding open the shiny head of a metal centipede shuffled through. Unlike that of its organic counterpart this beast had a single lens set amongst a ring of articulate limbs. The robot wandered by without even a glance towards Mickie¡¯s place by the wall. It appeared the sound from the adjacent room made him all but imperceptible to mechanical senses.

    The trailing body of the creature followed through the open door, preventing it from sliding shut. Mickie took the opportunity to sneak by, careful to avoid the limbs of the creature as it passed underfoot. Sound pounded through his ears as Mickie moved through a small passage and into a open warehouse. The space was easily four stories high, lit by massive floodlights handing from broad support beams. Large apparatuses filled every corner of the room, metal contraptions of pipes and cylindrical vessels supported by a forest of steel framework. Molten metal could be glimpsed pouring into vats where it was sectioned into moulds and pounded by huge steam driven hammers. To Mickie¡¯s apprehensive eye however, the feature that stood out most was the volume of machines within the space. The room was lousy with them, centipedes crawling up pillars and along piping, spiders monitoring the molten metal flows. Mickie had to duck aside as a bulky bipedal robot stomped along a path, a huge pile of ore stored in a container protruding from its back. Looking through the heavy machinery to the bulky robot¡¯s origin he noted what appeared to be a large tunnel opening into darkness. Crouched by a loading bay was a massive hexapedal robot, a truck on legs holding a tray full of metallic ore. Mickie started to weave through the facility towards the construct, drawn not by the machine but the huge passage leading out of the production room. It appeared that the ore processed in this facility was delivered via the large constructs through this tunnel. That meant he might be able to trace the supply line back out of the Mechanist¡¯s lair.

    Mickie almost stood on a scuttling spider bot and had to dart aside when an odd drone buzzed past, nearly taking his head off. The noise of the room was a perfect cover for his progress however, and Mickie made it to the loading bay without issue. The space was little more than a large concrete step that the transport crawlers could rest at and unload their cargo. The six-legged machines had a single limb upon their backs they used to pack the bipedal walkers with ore. Occasionally one of the haulers would lift its rear and jostle about to shift more unprocessed cargo into reach. Mickie made his way around the bustling hub of the dock to a quieter edge by the darkened tunnel. The drop to the concrete below was at least a few meters, a hard fall to be sure but Mickie could take it. Beyond the drop was the tunnel, and this did give him pause. A hole of impenetrable dark. With no light source he would be stumbling blind in there, making a ton of noise than any old robot would be able to pick up on.

    ¡®By the blood kid, we got to move!¡¯

    Miz-Mag had shouted directly into his ear to be heard over the racket of ongoing production. Mickie followed the frantic gesture from his miniature companion and felt his blood run cold. Steel spiders and centipedes were combing the room in a wave, flowing over every surface, and checking every corner. They could only be doing one thing. Looking for him. The Mechanist knew he was out. Time was up. The speed of the machines was incredible to behold, like an avalanche he stood no chance of escaping. Mickie cast about for an something he could use to get away and noticed one of the hauling bots finishing up with its load. The arm on its back felt about an empty tray for any remaining ore while the hind legs jostled to shift any leftovers. An opportunity.

    With no options left Mickie took off toward the oversized beetle, weaving around heavy bipedal robots carting loads of ore. He reached the edge of the dock as the beetle stood to leave, leaping for the rising edge of its tray. Poor timing and judgement were almost his undoing as Mickie slammed into the side of the creature and almost bounced away. He grasped the lip of empty storage as the six legs set into motion. Agony erupted from a finger that had not yet truly healed and fresh blood flowed onto his hand from the wound. With a desperate cry Mickie pushed past the pain to wrench himself up and over the side of the moving hauler and into the safety of the tray. He took a few moments to recover, lying panting on the shuddering steel. The transition from the light of the warehouse into the dark of the tunnel drew him into a painful seated position. Miz-Mag was already dangling at the rear of their escape vessel to get a view of the receding light. Mickie crawled over and scooped up the demon, holding it up to provide a better vantage. In the distance robots poured down into the loading bay and followed them into the dark. He was unsure of the constructs had somehow detected them and were following, or if the tunnel was the natural progression of their search. Either way the hauler on which they now sat was moving faster than the hunting monsters, which meant they were safe for the moment. Mickie patted the steel body of his ride gratefully, happy the robotic beetle did not seem to notice or mind their presence. He sat back against the wall of the tray, taking a moment to rest as the dark of the tunnel swallowed them and the clamour of the pursuing machines grew distant. His right hand throbbed in protest of its recent treatment and Mickie cradled the appendage gently as they were carried further into the dark.

    With no light source to illuminate their passage, only the rhythmic steps of the beetle and the cool steel of its chassis provided any stimulation. Mickie was unsure how long they had been moving when a light source came into view in the distance. Having been starved for any visual sensation Mickie sat bolt upright at the approaching glow. Had they finally reached the source of the ore? Hopefully it was a location out of the Mechanist¡¯s immediate influence and a step forward on the path up the castle. The glow grew along with a variety of sounds that put Mickie¡¯s hair on end. The shriek of metal on metal was overlaid with the rumble of engines and a variety of other noises he could not place. They emerged into the light suddenly, the beetle upon which they sat did not slow with the change, trundling ever onwards. By the time Mickie¡¯s eyes adjusted to the bright space they were already well inside, taking a direct path towards another tunnel in a far wall. Glancing about Mickie found the circular room to be some form of central hub for the transport beetles. All around him the robotic creatures moved with purpose, weaving through one another with a seamless ease.

    It was strange to see creatures that lacked any apparent sensory apparatus move so precisely, never so much as brushing one another. Mickie guessed they must be able to communicate at the very least. In the centre of the room was a pit, a circular hole in the floor that Mickie realised was mirrored in the ceiling when he glanced up. As they approached this hole the engine roar overtook the clamour of beetle legs. From the ceiling a dark shape appeared, lowering itself slowly into the light. Mickie resisted swearing at the sight of it, bitting his cheek so hard to that he tasted copper. A huge sight, a familiar sight. One that had his and Miz-Mag¡¯s undivided attention. Coming into the light of the hub was a mass of steel appendages, an almost circular glob of claws, cameras, blades and uncountable other tools. Just as the torture machine in his cell had been, this behemoth was not truly mobile, attached to a pillar of steel that rose in to the shadowy dark above. The roar of the engine ceased with the movement of the robot, and a soft feminine voice carried over the moving beetles as arms unfurled from the central mass.

    ¡®My sweet children, if only you could speak. So limited you are, yet so beautiful in motion. You who encompass so much of our collective home. I am certain you would be able to tell me of the infection in our blood.¡¯

    Mickie dared not breath as the surrounding robots continued to crawl, oblivious to the eerily gentle tone of the Mechanist.

    ¡®Perhaps one of you carry the filth even now. Your siblings followed the residue it leaked, yet the trail has ended.¡¯

    Panic gripped Mickie as he glanced about the metal tray and noted the blood from his injured finger coating numerous surfaces. If one of the cameras noticed the mess it would be the end for him. He gingerly grasped a section of the filthy rag serving as his shirt and attempted to wipe away the obvious marks. The Mechanist began to examine the bodies of the beetles with innumerable camera eyes, hunting for a sign.

    ¡®I know you would not purposefully carry such filth dear children. You do not know of our plight. A failing that falls upon me alone.¡¯

    The voice that had been so flat and cold to Mickie was almost loving as it spoke to the beetles, metal arms traced shining frames as cameras roved the flowing masses. Mickie felt ice in his gut as one of the huge mechanical frames moved in his direction. There was too much blood, even with his cleanup efforts the machine would see.

    ¡®To think the creature would escape its bonds. It should have been immobilised entirely, incapable of breaking the steel. Another secret I will need to extract.¡¯

    A chance came when another beetle wandered alongside theirs, heading in a similar direction. With Miz-Mag on his shoulder and his traitorous finger wrapped in his filthy shirt Mickie made a desperate leap to the nearby robot. He landed hard, though hoped the bang was drowned out by the clamour of moving machines. His old ride separated from his new one, moving to a neighbouring exit tunnel. As they closed in on safety it appeared the blood had gone unnoticed, and Mickie almost felt his actions had been unnecessary. There was a sudden strange hiss from the Mechanist¡¯s mass and a huge, clawed arm shot forth to grasp the bloody beetle. The master machine plucked their previous ride like it was a true insect, drawing it towards the central mass. Darkness enveloped the stunned escapees as they entered the tunnel, followed by a cold voice.

    ¡®Is this you creature, back in my grasp once more?¡¯

 4 - The White Wastes

    Mickie and his demon companion had slipped the Mechanist¡¯s grasp, yet they were not truly out of its lair. Fear kept him pressed deep into the metal tray¡¯s corner, awaiting the moment when the rhythmic tapping of their beetle¡¯s feet would be joined by a cold, robotic voice. His severed finger was healing at a prodigious rate, no longer bleeding, and recovered enough that Mickie could make small movements. The pain of exerting the damaged digit was intense however, amplified by his fear and lack of stimulus. Even the diminutive demon sitting on his splayed leg was subdued, unwilling to speak even if they both knew detection was not possible. Time blurred as they travelled, though Mickie was convinced that this trip had been far longer than the first. He thought back to the monstrous metal form of the Mechanist, and its desire to uncover his secrets. Why was the machine so desperate to understand him? What alien force drove the metal mind to be so violent towards living beings? Perhaps the creature just hated anything organically intelligent. His mind wandered further, to the impetus for his escape from the interrogation bed. The Mechanist had mentioned subduing the renegade guards within administration, he hoped the distraction of his escape had given the gentle workers the upper hand.

    Eventually light came into focus once more, cutting his meandering thoughts short. Mickie was happy to finally be leaving the dark tunnel, though he dreaded what might await them beyond its confines. As they came closer to the exit his skin prickled, the air was rapidly cooling, taking on a coarse dryness that scratched his throat. Light revealed an expanse of white and blue, cut by spires and jagged peaks of ice. Their beetle was clambering through a frozen cave towards the frigid landscape, metal feet managing the slippery footing with ease.

    ¡®The White Wastes.¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s voice was an intermingling of fear and excitement, the demon¡¯s eyes glued to the pale horizon.

    ¡®You been here before?¡¯

    Having entered a region that was very clearly not the domain of the Mechanist had provided Mickie with enough courage that he risked a whispered question.

    ¡®No kid, didn¡¯t even know it was possible to get here from the palace. Thought the building was sealed of entirely. The sovereign¡¯s got the prison in the depths now, so I¡¯m not sure what they would even need this dead world for.¡¯

    That was concerning, if the wastes were once a prison, then it might not be safe to enter blindly. Mickie glanced back towards the dark tunnel they had exited. At this stage he would take the chihuahua Cerberus over another moment in the Mechanist¡¯s lair. The pair exited the cave and into the light glow of the frozen waste, the world opening up before them as they left the palace behind. Mickie turned back to take in the structure, he had covered a lot of ground in those halls and was curious about how large it was. All Mickie could see from his current vantage was a tall wall of rocky stone, large to be sure but certainly not the scope he was expecting. As the beetle covered more ground dark metal came into view beyond the stone and Mickie realised, he was only seeing a portion of the monstrous building. Beyond a rocky base, huge pillars of steel reached towards the frozen ceiling, stacked atop one another with the coordination of an infant¡¯s block set. Odd overhangs jutted from wonky spires, creating haphazard geometric shapes that looked as if they might fall away at any moment. The metal narrowed gradually as it reached the ceiling, only a central tower vanishing into the stone beyond. The exit. One that appeared so very distant. Mickie felt exhausted at the sight, they had come so far yet were not even close to escaping the very bottom of hell. He caught the demon looking up at the palace with a strange expression.

    ¡®It feels like we¡¯ve lost ground, the window in admin had a decent view from memory.¡¯

    Mickie tried to spot windows on the metal monstrosity but failed to make anything out. The window he had looked through had been small, but surely there were others scattered throughout the huge building. Perhaps the views were only one way. Miz-Mag only grunted at his comment, continuing to gaze up at giant palace. Eventually Mickie turned away from the eerie construct and back towards the icy surrounds. The air hung over him like a frozen blanket, still and stifling. There was no wind in this place as far as he could tell, only the movement of the beetle giving the illusion of a breeze. It looked as though their ride was headed for a collection of mountains in the distance, taking a direct path through the ice. With his demon guide suffering from a rare bout of silence Mickie took it upon himself to ponder their next move. While it had been good to escape the Mechanist, he was unsure if remaining out in the cold was wise. The goal was to escape above, and the only way-out Mickie could see was at the top of the palace.

    ¡®Is there anything out here we can use?¡¯

    Miz-Mag finally turned with a swish of dark hair to peer at him with golden eyes.

    ¡®It¡¯s called the white wastes for a reason kid, nothing but ice out here.¡¯

    Mickie looked to the demon, then down at the robot scampering across the empty terrain.

    ¡®Then why is the mechanist sending robots out here?¡¯

    ¡®Not sure, didn¡¯t even know that it did. At a guess maybe that ore we saw in the processing facility. Could be a mine out on the ice.¡¯

    ¡®You never saw that metal before?¡¯

    The demon put its hands behind its head.

    ¡®Nope, I thought I told you I never went into the Mechanist¡¯s lair.¡¯

    Mickie shivered and turned towards the beetle¡¯s destination once more. He was cold but not to the extent one might expect with such frigid surrounds. His demon companion appeared completely unbothered by the environment, splayed out on his leg like a limp noodle. With little else to do Mickie took to examining his healing finger. There was a red line joining the flesh together and the skin on the appendage was a healthy tone once more. He moved it and the finger curled painfully in on itself, leaving Mickie speechless at the return of mobility. The jagged pieces of steel that had held his pinkie in place were still embedded into the flesh on either side of the wound. They no longer appeared necessary, if anything the improvised stitching was hindering his burgeoning mobility. Deciding to trust in his unreasonable healing capacity Mickie pinched a portion of metal and drew it painfully free. The piece had been forced deep, leaving wells of pooling blood on either side of the puckered skin. Mickie paid the smaller wounds little heed as he drew the remaining jagged pieces free. As the last slid out he moved the finger once more and found the motion coming easier than before.

    ¡®Look at that aye kid, good as new, just like I said.¡¯

    The little demon was giving him a smug look. Mickie was too astounded by his reattached finger to even provide a proper retort.

    ¡®Yeah, its moving again. That¡¯s insane.¡¯

    With his finger mostly healed Mickie felt whole again, shifting his attention back to the icy surrounds and viewing them with an improving outlook. He wasn¡¯t overly cold despite the ice, and he was free of the Mechanist. All they needed now was an easy way to the top of the palace and he would be free of this place. Surely the next circle would be better than this one. Peering back at the monstrous structure of black metal Mickie found it to be growing disturbingly distant.

    ¡®Hey uh, you don¡¯t suppose this beetle is going to head back?¡¯

    Miz-Mag appeared unconcerned at his sudden question, waving a lazy arm.

    ¡®Course it will, Mechanist loves its little bots far too much to send them on suicide runs. Worst case scenario is we just hoof it back on foot anyway.¡¯

    Mickie supposed the demon was right. Plus, it might not hurt to see if they could get a hint on what the beetle¡¯s collected and where they got it from. If nothing else a moment of peace in the quiet cold would be worth the time spent on the journey. Setling in for an extended period of travel, Mickie looked into the horizon and attempted to guess their destination.

    ¡®Well, I suppose we can check out whatever is out here then catch a ride back. There¡¯s sure to be¡­¡¯

    His voice trailed off as the beetle rounded a rocky spire and brought a strange sight into focus. From the window within Admin Mickie had noted strange tree-like shapes out in the ice. Suddenly getting a view up close, he realised it had not been frozen foliage but dark pillars of steel. A forest of metal that sprouted from the ice in a jagged, inorganic impersonations of normal trees. More disturbing than the twisted dark canopy however was what lay below it. Bound to the structures by heavy chains was an uncountable number of demons. They were all pressed to the metal, held upright by blankets of metal links. Mickie was transfixed by the morbid scope of the frozen prison. Demons of endless varieties were held captive on the ice, silent in the frozen air. He noted insectile beasts, horned humanoids with skin of deep green, triple headed and multi limbed figures in dark robes. There was even a large serpent, threaded through tight chains to wrap about a pillar. It appeared that the cold out here was worse than Mickie had first thought, as none of the imprisoned demons so much as twitch when their beetle approached.

    ¡®Blimey, what a lot of poor sods, aye kid.¡¯

    For all its tone was frivolous, Miz-Mag was gazing upon the chained demons with an intense scrutiny.

    ¡®They¡¯re all demons.¡¯

    Mickie observed.

    ¡®Why are they locked up?¡¯

    His partner shrugged.

    ¡®Couldn¡¯t say, probably pissed off the Sovereign at a guess.¡¯

    The thought Mickie the wrong way, and he contemplated on the reason why briefly as their beetle skirted about the metal forest.

    ¡®It almost seems¡­ too human, I guess. I would have thought demons stuck together.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave him an incredulous look.

    ¡®Dear boy, when have demons ever been known for anything but random acts of violence and mischief? Seriously kid, I would have probably be imp shit by now if the stubby runts could see me.¡¯

    ¡®I suppose, but I thought Hell was all about punishing the wicked, you know, sinners and stuff¡¯.

    ¡®Demons are all about sin kiddo, probably worse than most of the sorry mortals that get stuck down here.¡¯

    The explanation had a logical flow to it that made sense, however Mickie still sat uneasy. He would have expected the afterlife to be governed with more structure. A location built for the purpose of judgement and punishment. What he had seen to this point was something else entirely, a world that had the same chaotic norms of his life above.

    ¡®What¡¯s the point then?¡¯

    ¡®Hmm.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave him an inquisitive eye.

    ¡®The point to this, to all of this.¡¯

    Mickie waved about at the ice.

    ¡®Why do people come here when they die if not for punishment? Just to get tormented again? It seems unreasonable.¡¯

    ¡®Life ain¡¯t fair kid. You think I wanted to be a tiny tot that spends its life hiding?¡¯

    Miz-Mag seemed almost annoyed at his tirade. The demon¡¯s shifting mood was lost on Mickie, stuck as he was in existential contemplation.

    ¡®And then we die again.¡¯

    The murmured statement triggered a thought and Mickie¡¯s head snapped up to look at Miz-Mag.

    ¡®What happens when we die in hell, what¡¯s next? Is it that darkness? below the prison?¡¯

    ¡®By the blood kid! Give it a rest would you!¡¯

    The heated reply finally drew Mickie from his mental spiral. The demon on his shoulder looked both angry and uncomfortable. Apparently, the subject of death was something it preferred not to dwell on. Their conversation had carried them just about past the forest of frozen demons and their beetle was almost ready to leave it behind when a sound drew their attention. A clanking rattle, deep and loud that rumbled out from the metal trees. The noise was followed by a booming voice, deeper than the ocean and slow as magma.

    ¡®Human.¡¯

    Mickie looked to Miz-Mag in surprise briefly before they both turned to peer into the spines of dark steel.

    ¡®Someone¡¯s not frozen in there.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯d say kid, judging by the voice calling out and all that.¡¯

    ¡®How though?¡¯

    Miz-Mag took a moment to think.

    ¡®Hmm, cold is pretty insidious out here. Would even get us if not for yours truly. Maybe this is a prisoner that can resist the ice?¡¯

    Mickie tried to look through the metal but caught no sight of movement. Their beetle was veering away, and the metal forest would soon be left behind.

    ¡®Maybe we should check it out? A locked-up demon might be willing to help us out.¡¯

    His red companion appeared sceptical.

    ¡®I¡¯m not so sure, us demons are more about half answers and misleading truths.¡¯

    The frozen prison was being left behind, leaving Mickie with little time remaining to deliberate. He glanced in the direction the beetle travelled. There was little in the distance but a cluster of icy mountains, providing a good indication of their eventual destination. It looked to be an achievable distance on foot, and Mickie was not particularly cold despite their surrounds. He was confident in either making it to the mountains or back to the castle of foot. Without further deliberation Mickie scooped up his demon companion and leapt from their metallic steed. The ground was icy soil and it slapped hard against his feet on landing. The rough touchdown and the jump from the beetle was enough to shift his balance and with a slippery shuffle Mickie was on his ass. Miz-Mag snickered at him from its perch on an outstretched hand.

    ¡®Serves you right, making sudden moves without my permission.¡¯

    Mickie tilted his hand and dropped the demon to the ice. To his annoyance the creature landed gracefully and gave a mocking bow upon noticing his scowl.

    ¡®Well, I was thinking this demon could give me some answers. Seeing as you don¡¯t seem to know much of anything.¡¯

    As he stood carefully on the frozen ground Miz-Mag clambered to its usual shoulder perch while protesting.

    ¡®I know plenty kid. Got us this far didn¡¯t I.¡¯

    Giving the demon a dirty look Mickie almost spat out another retort, something about oversized demonic leeches. Before the words exited his mouth however as the demon¡¯s words brought forth a wash of recent memories. A ring of light. Robotic arms delivering pain. A small red figure waking him and helping him escape the terror. If nothing else his companion at least wanted him alive, they were tied to the same wagon now and the only way forward was up. Mickie snapped his mouth shut and simply shrugged before moving towards the shackled demons. Miz-Mag let out a short cackle of glee at the silent response before moving to his shoulder.

    Walking along the icy ground was slow going, each step requiring careful placement to prevent a fall. Upon reaching the edge of the metal forest Mickie foot crunched into blueish white gravel. He bend down and picked up a small stone from endless mounds scattered amongst the chained demons. It appeared to be a solid chunk of ice, rough and uneven like the shattered remains to a larger whole. The ice might be uncomfortable to step on but it was at least less slippery than the open ground. Mickie tossed the blue chunk back onto the ground and moved into the frozen prison. He had little to go on but a general direction for the source of the voice, walking in silence amongst an endless variety of hell¡¯s denizens. The final expressions of the creatures were as varied as the beasts themselves. One triple headed man-thing wept with one face, roared with another and laughed with maniacal glee on the last. Mickie found the disparate emotions on the same being more disturbing than the monstrous human itself. A peculiar dread began to crawl up his spine the deeper they walked into the metal forest. Like frosty oil dribbling along his back it came slowly, but with rising intensity. Heading into this place might have been a terrible idea, chance at information be damned. Mickie reflected that his decision to leave the beetle behind might not have been entirely rational. The demon upon his shoulder gripped his ear with desperate intensity, clearly of the same mind. They had not been walking all that far. If they turned around now it would be a short walk out, then they could simply follow the path of the beetle.

    A strange demon caught his eye, disrupting the cascade of thoughts. Mickie squinted at the huge frame, chained naked to a large spire of metal. This creature was easily over four meters tall and nearly two meters wide at the shoulder. Its hairless head was slumped in senseless defeat, a single large eye staring sightlessly over the prisoners. Mickie recognised the shape of this beast, and it was not one he associated with the frozen depths of hell.

    ¡®Is that a cyclops?¡¯

    His voice was barely a whisper, yet it made Miz-Mag stiffen in fright. The little creature glanced about suspiciously, as if waiting for the demons to start awakening at the noise. When the surrounds remained quiet the demon threw him a withering look before spitting a reply.

    ¡®You nuts kid? How would I know?¡¯

    Mickie was irked by the dismissive response. All the prisoners were frozen solid and chained besides, why did his companion get so wound up over the question. Peering at the huge figure Mickie was certain he had been right. It had to be a cyclops, pulled straight from a mythos outside that of hell. If so, then he had no clue how this creature had wound up chained in an icy waste within the deepest reaches of this place. With no answer forthcoming Mickie turned from the prisoner only to realise he had lost the direction forward. Before getting a chance to question the demon on his shoulder a deep rumble shook the earth, making the icy stones clink and shift. The shake was accompanied by a vibrating groan, almost physical in its intensity. Glancing towards the source Mickie realised he was not far from his goal. The noise had come from somewhere close by.

    Setting off through the prisoners once more, it was not long until the spires began to thin out ahead, giving Mickie glimpses of a thick structure made from dark metal. He stepped out onto open ground of icy gravel and was met with a ring of thick metal pillars. These were uniformly square in shape and shorter than the surrounding jagged spires. Each housed the end of a chain, leading into a dense mass of icy metal at the centre of the ring. A nest of chains, buried partway into the frozen gravel and topped by a huge head that was darker than the space between stars. Horns crested the hairless crown of the demon, forming a mohawk of curled spines. As he warily approached Mickie realised this creature was huge, larger even than the surrounding spires of metal that held other demons. A step noisily disturbed some gravel and Mickie froze when the huge being stirred, eyes opening to peer at him with orbs of solid starlight. He found himself unable to move, locked in place by the alien gaze of the massive figure. Time crawled by, neither Mickie or Miz-Mag so much as twitching, before the huge demon took a slow breath. The inrush of air was shaky and caused the chains binding it to shift and move as its chest rose.

    ¡®Human. I thought I heard your voice.¡¯

    The voice was as rougher than the icy gravel on which they stood. Mickie stared, transfixed for a moment before stumbling out a reply.

    ¡®Yeah I uh, I¡¯m a human.¡¯

    ¡®How curious.¡¯

    The massive prisoner paid little regard for Mickie¡¯s fumbled response. Falling silent once more with a thoughtful squint. Building up his courage, Mickie attempted to push the conversation along.

    ¡®I came when I heard you. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me?¡¯

    The demon let out a rumbling laugh at that, followed by another slow breath.

    ¡®Centuries of silence. And the first living creature I meet is human that has forgot its place. Tell me dead one, how is it you walk the ice so freely?¡¯

    Beginning to grow a bit miffed at the disregard of this chained demon, Mickie spat out an answer before pressing with another question.

    ¡®It¡¯s the gravel bud, less slippery than the normal ice. Now, tell me how I can get to the next layer up. Is the castle really the only way?¡¯

    A growl preceded the rumbling response.

    ¡®Watch your tone human. You will answer my question truthfully.¡¯

    Miz-Mag scoffed atop his shoulder.

    ¡®Or what? This big fella forgets he¡¯s on ice.¡¯

    Mickie had to agree with his companion. While terrifying at first glance this huge demon reminded him of the big bosses he had encountered while alive. Self-assured and confident, commanding even when at a disadvantage. In his experience they tended to allow their egos to overinflate berfore overreaching. It was very rare he met someone who had the talent to back up the bravado, so rare that he hadn¡¯t realised they could until it was too late. This chained monster had clearly fallen short, and even in chains believed itself to be on the top of the pile. Unwilling to give up his chance at answers Mickie decided to approach the conversation like he would have when alive. He called his gun in a show of strength, rhythmically tapping his thigh with the barrel. The glowing eyes fixated on the weapon¡¯s sudden appearance.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡®Righto, I can tell we misunderstand each other. I¡¯m not some human slave you get to tell what¡¯s what to. I¡¯ve been through the Mechanist¡¯s nest itself to get onto the ice.¡¯

    That drew the big creature¡¯s attention away from the gun and onto him once more. There was a rumble as it prepared to speak but Mickie cut it off..

    ¡®Now I intend to claw my way back out of Hell. I don¡¯t care what I need to go through to do it either. So, either we have a talk or I leave you to your friends.¡¯

    He glanced about at the frozen prisoners.

    ¡®I¡¯m sure they good for a conversation.¡¯

    The large demon did not respond immediately, starring him down with its glowing orbs. Mickie met the gaze unfalteringly, Miz-Mag cackling encouragement on his shoulder. It was some time before the giant spoke, not even blinking in their impromptu staring contest.

    ¡®You have heart human. Time was I would have taken such a heart straight from your chest for my own table.¡¯

    There was a pause and the demon followed almost begrudgingly.

    ¡®Times change though. Tell me your name and we shall talk.¡¯

    Mickie had to stifle a grin at the request. If the demon was bothering to know him then it was willing to at least give him the recognition required for a conversation.

    ¡®Mickie, and you are?¡¯

    ¡®I am the alter on which mortals so readily pray. I am the embodiment of your drive for more than your neighbour. I am Mammon of the seven.¡¯

    The words were intoned with a practiced resonance to convey a weighty grandeur. Mickie guessed if he knew more of Hell he might know who this Mammon was. Clearly the demon on his shoulder did from the impressed noise Miz-Mag made at the introduction.

    ¡®This chap was one of the princes kid, he¡¯s a pretty big deal.¡¯

    Needing to stay on the demon¡¯s good side Mickie rolled with his companion¡¯s comment and bowed to the chained giant, his gun pressed against his back.

    ¡®It is an honour to meet a prince of Hell.¡¯

    The old demon gave a thoughtful rumble before falling silent. Seeing an opportunity Mickie spoke up.

    ¡®Alright Mammon, you agreed to a conversation.¡¯

    Mammon gave a low growl.

    ¡®Fine. Ask your questions.¡¯

    ¡®I want to know if the palace is the only way to the next circle.¡¯

    Mammon breathed heavily and turned towards the monstrous metal structure.

    ¡®It is. At least it is the only remaining path that I know of.¡¯

    ¡®There were others?¡¯

    ¡®Once, but no longer.¡¯

    It took effort to swallow his frustration at the partial answer. It looked like all demons excelled at telling half the story.

    ¡®Okay. What¡¯s the best way up through the palace then?¡¯

    The demon paused to think.

    ¡®There are two paths. The first would be to walk the tunnels of the Mechanist. These you have seen before, if you truly did come through that abomination¡¯s lair. The next would be to move up through the central levels. They are a maze but will lead to the high levels if navigated.¡¯

    Mickie was taken aback by the frank answer. Mammon was not done, however.

    ¡®But it will not be possible for you mortal.¡¯

    ¡®Not possible?¡¯

    ¡®Not for you. I do not know how you snuck by the Mechanist, but I would not expect the feat to be repeatable.¡¯

    Silence followed the large demon¡¯s answer. Mickie considering his options while Mammon considered him. Perhaps it was possible to sneak through the Mechanist¡¯s lair once more, though the plan was risky. Mammon did not know he was all but invisible to the monstrous machine and most likely thought his escape was through sheer luck. On the other hand, the Mechanist was probably scouring the network of dark tunnels in an attempt to find him. It might simply be easier to navigate the castle itself and minimise any chance of contact with machines. Mammon read the indecision on his face.

    ¡®You must have seen the Mechanist to be so wary human. No doubt you realise how difficult it will be to navigate the dark tunnels in which it rules. The halls of the palace proper will be no kinder either. Infested as they are with the servants of the false Sovereign.¡¯

    The demon¡¯s voice was as soft as the gravelly tone would allow. Mickie met its starlight eyes as Miz-Mag began to shift in agitation on his shoulder.

    ¡®I will manage.¡¯

    He tried to impart the statement with conviction, though the words rang hollow to his own ears. Mickie had suffered to reach even this far up the palace, yet there was still so much more of the towering black structure left to climb. How much more of the constant threat from demons and monsters could he take. If the denizens of this place did not get to him then his rapidly fraying sanity would. Mickie had always been stubborn, but this, this was hell. How much further could he climb before his strength gave.

    ¡®No human. You might have made it this far, but no mortal can ever escape hell, and you are stuck as far down as it is possible to go.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t listen to him. We had a deal kid! A deal!¡¯

    Miz-Mag could no longer hold itself back, seemingly sensing Mickie¡¯s newfound doubt. Glancing at the creature Mickie found his earlier appreciation for it being replace with anger.

    ¡®A deal?!¡¯

    He hissed in response.

    ¡®What deal? Brand myself or be eaten by some fucking insect monster? You act like I had some choice in this or something.¡¯

    Mammon seemed taken aback at the sudden outburst, tilting its head in confusion.

    ¡®Deal? What deal do you speak of?¡¯

    Mickie froze at the misstep. In a bout of anger, he had spoken aloud to Miz-Mag, saying things that may not be wise to mention in front of the old prisoner. As if on cue Mammon came to a realisation.

    ¡®So that is how you evaded the Mechanist. Tell me then, who do you serve?¡¯

    ¡®Serve? I¡­ no one. It¡¯s not important.¡¯

    His fumbling attempt to shift the conversation back on topic was ineffective on Mammon. The chained demon growled with the sound of shifting mountains.

    ¡®Who. Was it the Sovereign? Or perhaps Rainzell? Yes, that fiend would be cunning enough. Perhaps trying to coax information from me. Show me the mark mortal.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s right hand itched and he desperately avoided glancing at it.

    ¡®Like I said it doesn¡¯t matter. Now if¡­¡¯

    ¡®You cannot deny me. SHOW ME.¡¯

    This time the demand carried something else with it. A weight beyond words. As if Mammon were personally guiding his arm Mickie raised his hand to reveal the brand marring the skin.

    ¡®No. It cannot be so.¡¯

    Self-awareness returned as Mammon sagged into its chain with a wearied breath. A bone handle was immediately in Mickies hand and pointed towards the demon, summoned from where he had dropped it on the frozen ground.

    ¡®The Hell did you just do to me!?¡¯

    ¡®I took what was mine. Fool mortal, attempting to attempting to hide truths from me.¡¯

    Mammon let out a raspy chuckle. Whatever arcane trick it had used to force Mickie into compliance seemed to have taken all the demon¡¯s energy. Its voice grew sluggish, though Mickie could still make out a change in tone as it continued.

    ¡®It is not possible. The mark of the Soul Lord. How.¡¯

    It dawned on Mickie that he was hearing fear in the old demon¡¯s words. Fear of the mark on his hand. Mickie spared a glance at Miz-Mag, who seemed just as confused as he was.

    ¡®The Soul Lord? Who is that?¡¯

    Mammon laughed, deep and slow.

    ¡®Impossible. And yet, I am unsurprised. Perhaps our foolish ruler will learn the lesson we did.¡¯

    As the words of the giant grew quiet a creaking crackle filled the air. Mickie¡¯s eyes widen slightly at the sight of frost visible creeping up the chains encompassing the demon. Like a rising tide, icy tendrils were creeping up the dark metal, growing slower until they stopped halfway up its form. Looking at the frozen surrounds warily, Mickie did not feel any different himself. He still stood barefoot on the ice, cold but not uncomfortably so. Perhaps it was the chains that made the frost do that. Whatever the cause Mammon appeared to be losing an ongoing battle to remain conscious, head lolling to one side as the onyx black of its skin took on a grey hue.

    ¡®A deal, I thought. Perhaps escape. But no. Better here, if it is to return.¡¯

    The field of frozen figures fell silent as Mammon¡¯s starlight eyes closed and the giant grew as still as the surrounding prisoners. Mickie looked upon its slumbering form with a knot forming in his gut.

    ¡®Great work fumbling the bag on that one kid.¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s squeaky voice cut through the silence and startled him. Mickie made to retort before glancing to the silent Mammon. The giant appeared to be asleep, but after his last slip up it was probably better to be cautious. The demon on his shoulder cackled as Mickie silently stomped into the frozen figures, his frustration building.

    ¡®You think you could even get out of prison without me kid. You¡¯re lucky I was around, or you would be bug-shit by now.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s frustration boiled over into anger at that comment. With a flick of his hand he unsummoned his gun and fast as a viper reached up to grasp the little demon from his shoulder. The action took Miz-Mag by surprise, the red creature screeching in indignation as Mickie held it up. They were yet to leave the sea of chained prisoners, but Mickie¡¯s anger once more outweighed his caution.

    ¡®Without you? I have been climbing through a blender to drag us out of this shit pile. Without me you would still be scampering about the bottom of that palace. I¡¯m the one who got us past the Cerberus, I¡¯m the one who got through Admin, I¡¯m the one who escaped the Mechanist. All you have done is get dragged along for the ride.¡¯

    Miz-Mag tilted its head and bit down on hard Mickie¡¯s hand. He yelped and dropped the small creature, which scrambled out of his reach before glaring back at him.

    ¡®You know you would be dead without me. And you are climbing because that¡¯s the deal. You take me up and out of here.¡¯

    ¡®Why though?¡¯

    Mickie shouted in exasperation.

    ¡®What¡¯s the point? You heard Mammon, we won¡¯t make it to the next circle, let alone out of hell. Do you want to die is that it?¡¯

    Miz-Mag gritted its teeth.

    ¡®I want, I have, to be more.¡¯

    ¡®Be more? What does that even mean? You¡¯ll be nothing once we¡¯re dead.¡¯

    The diminutive demon seemed to fumble for something to say for a moment, looking cornered.

    ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter what it means. We have a deal. You climb.¡¯

    With that Miz-Mag disappeared without a trace. Mickie stared at the vacant spot where it had stood before casting about for the creature. A glance about confirmed the demon¡¯s sudden retreat and Mickie let out an exasperated chuff as he set off.

    ¡®I bet the little shit doesn¡¯t even know why, barely knows anything.¡¯

    There was little to occupy Mickie as he trekked the remaining distance to the border of the chained demons. His thoughts were textured with encroaching despair, dwelling on the futility of his task and the horror of what he had seen so far. The positivity he had felt before was gone, drowned by the weight of what he had experience and what was to come. About him the frozen demonic visages seemed to be taking on life, starring at him, laughing at him, screaming at him. What had he done to deserve this. Nobody deserved this. He would have preferred the void of nothing if this was all that awaited him in Hell. Mickie did not realise he was running until he broke free from the forest of frozen steel and flesh. He was so distracted that he forgot about the change in footing as the icy chunks abruptly shifted back to frozen stone. The slick surface of the white wastes caused Mickie to slip near instantly and the air rushed from his lungs as he bounced and slid across the hard ground.

    Coming to a stop a small way from the sea of dark metal Mickie curled in on himself, gasping and groaning in equal measure. As the pain of the slip receded his mind achieved a pleasant vacancy from the panic that drove him from the frozen demons. Idly Mickie wondered if he would freeze like those he had fled if he simply remained on the floor. Maybe some other sorry sack would die in a hundred years and find themselves standing before his frozen form, wondering when they would wind up the same. He tumbled into musing upon the accursed deal that was so intrinsically tied to his time in hell. What would happen if he refused to climb, if he made the decision to simply sit still here on the ice and never move again. Miz-Mag might have known, though at this point Mickie would not be surprised to discover the demon didn¡¯t have a clue. For a denizen of hell, the creature seemed to know surprisingly little of use. Perhaps if he had made a deal with a demon like Mammon it would be easy to escape the stinking castle. If a little critter like Miz-Mag could provide a gun, then the giant demon would probably grant enough power to blast right through the monstrous metal structure. Or maybe not, Mammon had seemed wary of the Mechanist at the very least. Though not fearful. Which made Mickie nervous about the identity of this Soul Lord that was tied to the brand on his hand.

    An abrupt thud and shake broke Mickie from his meandering thoughts and nihilistic musings. The icy ground trembled as if from a massive impact and the air stirred for the first time since he had stepped foot on the wastes. Mickie sat up and glanced about, looking for the source of the disturbance. The world was silent and still for a long stretch before the thud came once more, shaking the frozen surrounds. A crack reverberated in the distance and a massive chunk of ice broke free from a mountain and arced towards the ground. Mickie winced at the crashing clamour of it connecting with stone and exploding into chunks. It appeared that whatever was causing the distant noise and shakes was in the direction of the mountains. Considering the jagged spires of ice, Mickie realised that these mountains were the same ones the robotic beetle had been heading towards. Perhaps this was all part of the mining process for the dark ore it had been collecting. Contemplating the distant peaks Mickie pondered the prospect of moving from his spot on the ice. Oddly enough, he found boredom was overcoming his bout of listlessness. He rose slowly, chuckling at the prospect of becoming bored within the depths of hell. With little else to do, investigating the distant peaks provided a convenient distraction. Standing slowly, Mickie dusted himself off before beginning to walk towards the mountains. The going was slow on the slick ice and Mickie stepped carefully to avoid slipping as he trekked along rocky crags and skirted dark ravines.

    Twice more there were distant booms that shook the earth and caused him to lose his footing. As such it was a slightly sore and bruised body that finally approached the frozen debris surrounding the mountain. Proximity to the scattered chunks of ice provided perspective and Mickie marvelled at the size of the blue-white boulders. The smallest were easily as large as he was while the larger chunks tripled his height. Taking a short break by one of the frozen stones Mickie examined the massive mountains of ice. They stretched into the sky, reaching for the distance craggy ceiling of this massive cavern. He wondered idly how they had formed, considering where he was it was probably tears of the damned or some such. The thought was oddly funny, and Mickie huffed as he moved on once more, through the debris strewn valley amongst frozen peaks.

    Unlike his trek across the icy plains this he did not have a directional goal for this portion of the journey. Rather Mickie simply followed the natural path of the valley, occasionally finding signs he was on the right track. There was a huge mound of ice blocking the way that had a gap of shifted stones through which traversal was possible. Occasional rends in the surface ice followed the path of shifted boulders, keeping the traversable surfaces clear. The result for Mickie was a safe passage to follow along during the steeper and more treacherous stretches of the valley. He fell into a rhythm of steady breaths and even footfalls, eventually coming into sight of open air. The valley path came upon an open pit bordered by the mountains, ringed by a path that spiralled into icy depths. Looking over the edge Mickie found a warren of pitted holes in the walls of ice, crawling with the glinting silver dots of robots.

    ¡®It definitely looks like a mine.¡¯

    Mickies cleared his throat and swallowed before setting off along the winding path into the pit. The steep decent was treacherously slippery and Mickie was forced to move exceedingly slowly to avoid a dangerous fall. Eventually he came to the first of the holes in the pit wall, a glittering cave of ice with smooth surfaces that disappeared into darkness. The was no sound or movement apparent within the depths and Mickie found himself unwilling to walk into the dark. He moved onward and passed a number of further vacant caves before reaching the first that had signs of life. At the end of a distant cave figures glinted in torchlight, moving about against a wall of ice speckled with dark veins. Even though he knew that the robots would not be able to see him, Mickie was still cautious when peering inside. The machines were too distant to make properly so he darted across the passage entry to continue the path downward. Perhaps he could find a cave further on that provided a better view of the mining process.

    Before reaching the next hole in the wall Mickie was forced to press himself flat against the side of the icy decline when a beetle trundled past. The large robot was laden with ore and had no issues finding purchase on the slick floor with its icy claws. At least he would be able to catch a ride out of the pit when exiting. The mountains above were disappearing behind a curtain of ice when Mickie finally found a cave shallow enough to provide a clear view inside. Lights reflected off slick ice before eventually reaching the end of a short tunnel. There were robots working veins of dark metal. Bulky constructs with three spiked legs to provide grip on the slippery floor. They dug at the wall with numerous limbs, drilling, cutting, and hammering at the ice to release the buried resources within. The raw ore was placed into holding containers on their backs, freeing up their arms to continue working. Mickie was forced to duck out of the way when one of the bulky mining bots moved away from the ore vein and towards the tunnel entrance. He was immediately forced to leap aside in a clumsy tumble upon finding a large beetle bearing down upon him. From a painful heap against the wall of the mine he watched as the robotic carrier came to a stop before the cave entrance and hunched low. The mining construct stomped slowly up to it and unloaded its cargo of ore into the already laden tray of dark metal. Upon completing the transfer something strange happened. Rather than immediately turning away from the big transport the miner moved to its front and gently stroked the creature with a clawed arm. Mickie watched in surprise as the robot pet its uncaring brethren before turning back to the tunnel and moving away. The large beetle did hang around, standing before moving up to the exit of the mine. Had that robot just shown affection to another of its kind? A strange prospect, as far as Mickie could tell the machines did not have feelings beyond the twisted mind of the Mechanist itself. Apparently, he had been wrong, or maybe the display was simply to indicate the completion of the ore¡¯s transfer and simply looked like affection.

    Contemplation of the miners actions caused Mickie¡¯s mind to drift as he continued into the depths of the pit. He was snapped out of his reverie by the sight of an approaching beetle. Quickly moving to one side Mickie was surprised when he glanced to gauge its approach and found the machine stationary. It was low to the ground, almost resting its dark metal undercarriage on the icy floor. There were no caves in site so the transporter could not be receiving a load of ore. Unsure what the beetle was doing Mickie moved away from the wall and continued towards it. He could always move aside if it started to walk again. It was a few steps later when disaster struck. In his exploration of the mine Mickie had somehow forgotten about the booming quakes that lead him to it.

    There was a sudden flash from below and a wave of force caused him to stumble as a cracking boom rang his ears. The ground shook like angry god and Mickie¡¯s failing balance gave out entirely. He took a few wobbly steps on the slope before tumbling and sliding toward the cliff¡¯s edge. He scrambled against the slippery ground to little effect as the drop approach, desperate to gain purchase. Eyes wide in terror at his approaching doom, Mickie summoned his gun into his hand and attempted to use it as an impromptu ice pick. The steel barrel made divots in the icy floor as he slammed it but failed to find purchase. Quickly running out of options Mickie instead turned the weapon towards the edge and fired into the open air. The recoil from the blast shunted him away from doom and Mickie breathed a sigh of relief as his sliding slowed. Then he swore as he gradually began to pick up speed once more, this time heading down the steep slope. He turned the gun forward and pulled the trigger, only to be met with a puff of steam as the weapon slowly shifted barrels. Panic sent needles through his chest as Mickie gradually slid faster while his gun reloaded. When the barrel clicked into place he immediately fired once more. His slide stuttered briefly from the force of the blast but did not slow enough to let him stop entirely.

    Ice was moving by faster and faster as Mickie gained more speed down the path. Small bumps that he might not even have notice on his walk jolted and bounced him about. The wind whipped by his face, making his eyes water and mouth dry. The next shot of the gun was used to push himself back away from the edge of the slope as he slid toward it again, slowing him little in his descent. Suddenly he was upon the hunched transport beetle, slipping towards its rising form at terrifying speeds. Desperate for a way to stop himself Mickie reached out an arm as he rocketed past, attempting to hook it around one of the creature¡¯s legs. He caught it on his elbow and with a terrifying wrench felt something pull out of place on his shoulder before he spun free from the robot. The jarring movement of the attempted stop sent him spinning and Mickie roared in pain and fear as the ledge approached once more. He attempted to blast himself away from it, but the shot went wild with his spinning and Mickie lost his grip on the weapon as it kicked. Then it was to late, he reached the edge and slid over into open air.

    The drop was as terrifying as it was brief. Mickie shot towards the icy ground, staring wide-eyed at the smooth bottom of the approaching pit. Partway down his back met the steep slope of the frozen cliff, though it did nothing to slow him. Unwilling to watch his approaching doom Mickie shut his eyes just before hitting the ground. Luckily the wall did not meet the floor in a jarring angle, instead curving up to in in a slope. From above this slope looked like little more than a step above a right angle. However, as Mickie hit the curve it proved enough to shift his momentum and send him careening out onto the icy base of the mine. The slope was not gradual enough to be gentle on his mortal flesh however, and Mickie greeted the bottom of the mine by connecting his right knee with the side of his forehead.

    <hr>

    Coming awake, Mickie¡¯s first thought was on how much his body hurt. Bones ached, his left shoulder pounded in pain, and he had a headache that felt as if his brain was being boiled. The next thought he had was to question how he was even alive to feel the pain in the first place. Putting the pieces together he realised the slope at the base of the cliff had saved his life. Taking a moment to lay still and let some of the ache¡¯s fade, Mickie breathed slow. That had been stupid. How had he forgotten about the quakes. The beetle pausing to brace for them should have been hint enough to alert him to the danger, instead he bumbled from cover and almost died because of it. He released a breath through gritted teeth and cracked open an eye slowly. The spearing headache was still there and the light entering his eyes did little to alleviate the pain. He needed to do something about his busted shoulder however, and that would require at least sitting up. Rising with a groan Mickie found himself sitting on the ice surrounded by a multitude of strange, sleek cylinders. They were dark in colour and had a rounded end topped with what appeared to be a green button. The strange objects were strewn all about him, and as Mickie craned a stiff neck he noticed their source. A large metal container was upended some distance away, dented on one side with cylinders littered around an opening. He must have slammed into the container during his slide and sent it flying. Not a pleasant stop for an unconscious body, but fortunate all the same.

    Setting about the next key item on his agenda Mickie examined his shoulder. It was clearly dislocated, the bone of his arm pressing oddly into the skin, pulling it taught. Could have been worse. Mickie balled up the front of his shirt and bit down on the waded rag. With a roar of pained effort, he wrenched the bone back into place. The pain was astounding but after a brief period to recover Mickie found himself thinking on how good he felt for someone who just fell off a cliff. The headache was still there, sure, and his shoulder was only beginning to calm from his abusive healing. However, looking up to fall he had just survived Mickie could not help but laugh in wonder.

    ¡®I¡¯m like the fucking terminator, just keep getting back up.¡¯

    The retort of metal on ice broke him from his astonishment. Mickie glanced about to find a miner bot approaching the edge of the debris field he had created. Preparing to sneak off as it approached, Mickie paused when the machine instead scooped up one of the cylinders littering the frozen ground. He could have sworn he saw two of the limbs move in an approximation of a shrug as it glanced about before the bulky figure turned and set off towards a distant hole in the ground. As it approached the spot several other miners scrambled up and away from their burdened companion. They moved away from the worksite and towards Mickie. One of them must have seen the location of his accident because it let lose a beep that sounded almost distressed. The whole squad of workers set off towards him and began to gather up the debris lying about. Trying to ensure they did not stumble into him; Mickie rose on painful legs to sneak away. Before he reached the edge of the cylinders however the first miner bot remerged from the divot in the ground and rushed toward its compatriots with a warbling beep. The bots on cleaning duty all froze and hunkered low. Seeing their movements Mickie¡¯s eyes widened, and he dropped to the floor, lying flat while watching the machines. The frantic solo miner reached its buddies and swiftly huddled alongside them. Nothing happened for a few long seconds. Mickie guessed at a count of about ten before there was a bright flash and terrible boom from the hole across the mine. The ground bucked with the force of the explosion and Mickie could have sworn he heard the creak of ice through the ringing in his ears. The earth settled as his headache returned in force, displeased by the explosive method of mining. Mickie glanced about at the strewn bombs with a sudden wariness and wasted no time in slipping away from the deadly debris field he had created. He was lucky he had not triggered one of these bombs when slamming into their storage. Even an unstoppable terminator might not be able to shrug that off. The thought gave Mickie an idea. A terrible idea.

    Shoving the budding plan away he instead moved towards the divot that had been the focus of the blast. In the caves above simple mining had been effective for removing the dark ore, he was curious what was different in this pit. All the robot miners had set about clearing up the mess of lose explosives in the wake of the detonation, keeping clear of the explosion site for now. Reaching the edge of the hole Mickie found a slope that led straight down to a massive wall of dark metal. Unlike the veins above this was huge, a single monstrous block of ore. Judging by the debris strewn about he guessed the miners were attempting to blow off chunks of this huge resource to process. Steam was rising from superheated metal in the aftermath of the explosion, puddles of water surrounding the ore already appearing to freeze in the subzero temperatures. Mickie experimentally picked up a chunk of ore that had landed nearby, finding it warm but already cool enough to handle. Or maybe it was hot, and his strange demon powers let him handle it like they let him walk out on this ice. Either way he got a good look at ore, finding it to be odd shape for a lump of metal. The piece was slim and long with a bulb on one end, kind of like a forearm and balled fist. Peering closely Mickie got a sudden sinking feeling. It was not kind of like an arm, but exactly like one. He could see the ridges of curled fingers, feel the light bump of veins against bone. The thumb appeared to have broken away, but by tilting the dark material he could see nails pressed up against the flesh of a palm. Mickie swallowed and turned back to the larger body of metal as the remaining steam billowed free.

    ¡®What the¡­¡¯

    The murmur escaped his limps, almost a groan as he beheld the dark material. The metal was not some kind of natural mineral. It was people. Or at least, it had been. Before him was a massive mound of frozen bodies, as lifelike as the imprisoned demons had been. A screaming face there, a curled torso there, a leg jutting from the mass over there. It was people. It had to be. What else could it be. A terrible mass of bodies, fused together into some kind of metal that these machines were mining.

    ¡®This place.¡¯

    Mickie turned from the site and stomped away, walking right by the approaching mining bots without them being any the wiser. He realised he was still holding the arm and tossed it aside in disgust. How was this even possible. Perhaps they were buried statues or something. No. That made no sense. Mammon had been surprised that he was able to survive on the ice freely. This must be what normally happens. People freeze and turn into some kind of metal that the Mechanist mined at its leisure. Mickie reached a wall and slumped against it, seething. He glared at the bulky miners as they returned to the pit, waiting for his anger to cool. The plan he had pushed aside slid back into his thoughts as Mickie waited for his demon companion to return. If Miz-Mag wanted to climb, then they would climb.

    And they would do it his way.

 5 - Fire and Steel

    It was sometime later that Miz-Mag finally reappeared, glancing about sheepishly before looking to Mickie.

    ¡®You found the mine then.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah.¡¯

    Mickie had been sitting and stewing on his plan for what felt like hours, watching the movements of the miners and beetles as they dug and shipped the metallic human remains.

    ¡®Did you know about it? The metal?¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave him a funny look.

    ¡®What? The ore? What about it?¡¯

    ¡®That it was people, humans.¡¯

    Disgust and anger churned within him at the recollection. Mickie had taken some time in his long wait for his companion to assess why the human made metal made him so angry. After all, its not like they were really people anymore. Disgust would be expected at the terrible mass of bodies that made up the metal pile. The anger however, that ran deeper.

    ¡®Look at the state of them.¡¯

    Mickie ground out bitterly and waved to the large divot in which the robot miners worked. Miz-Mag threw him a confused glance before making its way over to the dig site. That¡¯s what it was. The indignity of it all. These were people, and they were cast into the ice to become something for the demons to use. It was just like how they were all trying to treat him; eat him for food, swat him as a nuisance, dissect him as a curiosity. Mickie can¡¯t have been in Hell for more than a few days and yet it felt like an age. Miz-Mag returned looking slightly disturbed.

    ¡®Nasty stuff for sure kid. Rough way to go.¡¯

    Mickie simply nodded; it was clear the small demon knew nothing of what the mines had been digging up. Pushing aside the disturbing topic of the metal people, he instead pushed for some answers.

    ¡®What happens if I break our deal.¡¯

    ¡®No! You can¡¯t! We must climb!¡¯

    The squeaked response came immediately from Miz-Mag. It appeared that Mickie¡¯s crumbling psyche had not gone unnoticed by the little imp. The creature seemed to have realised he had been contemplating throwing in the towel.

    ¡®Yeah. Okay. And if don¡¯t? Then what?¡¯

    Miz-Mag began to look seriously panicked.

    ¡®Then that¡¯s it. This was an all-in deal kid, if one of us reneges then we are both done.¡¯

    ¡®So, we both die?¡¯

    ¡®Basically, souls get ripped straight from our bodies.¡¯

    That made his eyebrows rise. He had thought about questioning what it would take to break the deal but somehow Mickie knew. It would take more than just sitting around for a few days for the deal to break. He had to give up. Entirely and without reservation. Only then, when all drive to climb on was gone would the deal break and both he and Miz-Mag would apparently die. Strange that the little demon would write its own death into the bargain.

    ¡®Alright. So, its climb or die.¡¯

    Miz-Mag nodded vigorously. The situation was insane. Mickie was likely to be torn up by some super demon if he climbed, yet he would be dead anyway if he didn¡¯t. Fine then. If he was likely to die either way then Mickie would run the razors edge. See how far he could take it. How much damage he could do.

    Standing abruptly Mickie moved to the dented container holding all the explosives. In the distance the mining robots were working away at their giant pile of human remains, out of sight in their dig spot. Mickie hefted a cylindrical bomb, paused, then grabbed another. He made his way over to the hole in the ground.

    ¡®Hey, uh, kid. Are those what I think they are?¡¯

    The little demon scampered along behind him but was ignored. Pressing the bottom on one of the cylinders Mickie counted out the seconds. Three. Four. Five. He lobbed both the active and inactive explosives into the nearby pit before turning and diving onto the ice. The slick surface took him away from the dig site while keeping him low to the ground. Nine seconds. There was a flash and a thunderous boom from the nearby dig site, shunting the breath from Mickie¡¯s lungs and sending him spinning towards a wall. Managing to orient himself feet first Mickie took some of the impact on bending legs before allowing the sharp curve to kill his momentum. Once the ringing in his ears quietened Mickie heard a distant cracking alongside the frantic shrieks of a small demon.

    ¡®Insane, kid, totally nuts. What were you thinking?¡¯

    Miz-Mag was ranting ferociously from where it clung with a death grip to his pants leg. Paying the creature no mind, Mickie turned back to watch the ice wall above the pit crack and crumble. That had been a much larger blast than the others. So the explosives would detonate one another. Good. It was time to put his plan into motion. Mickie waited for his companion¡¯s tirade to stop before turning to the demon.

    ¡®You want me to climb. Fine I¡¯ll climb.¡¯

    Miz-Mag seemed taken aback.

    ¡®Well, I mean, that¡¯s great and all kid, but the uh, display you just put on seems a bit contradictory. Demonstrates a bit of a death wish if you catch my drift.¡¯

    Mickie grinned.

    ¡®I¡¯ll climb. But I¡¯m going to do things my way. I have a plan.¡¯

    <hr>

    Miz-Mag initially seemed reluctant when Mickie spilt the details of his plan. However, the red demon¡¯s sadistic side eventual came to appreciate the intended mayhem and after some clarifications the pair got to work. The mining robots were little more than buried scrap within their pit, blown apart and buried by collapsing ice. That was good. Mickie started by dragging the container of explosives to the edge of the dig site. Something he had noticed during his wait was that the beetle constructs appeared to operate on a schedule more than any kind of initiative. They would stop before a dig site and take on whatever ore had been dug, before moving on after a set interval. Another thing he had noticed was the large robots seemed to know when they were full on cargo. They would leave the mine immediately after getting a full tray.

    It tool some time for a beetle he judged as nearing capacity to make a stop by their dig site. During the wait Mickie had been worried that some of the other miner bots would check on the large hole. Apparently big blasts were considered the norm however, and even with Mickie¡¯s double bomb explosion he saw no three-legged workers coming to investigate.

    Their ride came to a stop near relocated container of explosives and crouched low to allow for loading. Mickie immediately set to work carefully packing the bombs into the tray, careful to keep the buttoned ends away from any pointy pieces of ore. He was forced to make a couple of stops while packing to shift some chucks of dark metal that looked suspiciously like splayed hands. It would be a disaster if any metal fingers were jostled into a button.

    Eventually the beetle began to shift, preparing to straighten and move away. Mickie judged that the usual time for a stop had not passed, so it was likely the construct was considering itself full-up. Time to go. With a grunt of effort Mickie hefted himself and Miz-Mag onto the rising beetle. There was a section free of packed explosives upon which he could sit, near to the front of the transport atop a pile of dark metal. It made for an uncomfortable seat and Mickie shifted about to find a spot that did not have lumpy pieces of metal digging into his rear. The robot beetle stood and set-off, climbing up the icy slop of the pit mine with an ease that put Mickie¡¯s bumbling decent to shame. He was nervous as they approached the first few cave entrances, uncertain if the transport was truly full. After they passed the first few without pause however, the tension drained from him and Mickie let out a breath. It would not have been good if one of the miners wandered over and noticed the packed explosives.

    The end of the spiralling ramp approached, towering mountains coming into sight once more. A sudden idea struck Mickie as they approached the final few mining caves. Not pausing more than a moment to consider he swiftly scooped up four of the couple dozen packed explosives and pressed one of the buttons. Then after a brief moment, he pressed a the remaining three to be sure. Just in case they rolled too far apart to detonate one another. Sitting on the head of the beetle Miz-Mag was staring wide eyed at his actions, glancing between the bombs and Mickie. With no time to explain he lobbed all the explosives off the back of the beetle. They bounced and rolled away down the slope, just as he had planned. Oddly enough the beetle they were riding on did not slow and brace for the coming blast, plodding on without a care. It must have been the mining bots themselves that signalled an impending detonation. They reached the end of the path out when the first blast came, followed almost immediately by a second, larger explosion. The ground bucked beneath their beetle and the robot staggered drunkenly before dropping hard onto its metal underbelly. Mickie thought it might have tripped until he saw the pointed legs spaced equally and dug into the frozen ground. Looks like the critter could at least handle sudden shakes.

    Their ride rose up on all six legs when the earth settled and set off towards the valley path with its load. Only the shaking had not quite stopped yet. Behind them the duo watched a jagged crack slice its way up the side of the pit and the ice groaned under the shifting weight. A large portion of the mine wall suddenly gave. Almost in slow motion, Mickie watched a frozen edge slide away and into the depths of the pit. The booming crash as it hit the bottom was followed by a blast of icy air that whipped at Mickie¡¯s hair and caused his wide eyes to water. He had hoped to make the path into the pit unusable. This was a bit more damage than expected, but it served his purpose all the same. Miz-Mag let out a wheezing chuckle at the destruction in their wake.

    ¡®By the blood kid, I think we need to get you away from those death cylinders.¡¯

    Mickie grinned at the tiny demon.

    ¡®We¡¯re just getting started.¡¯

    The ride back through the wastes felt uncharacteristically tranquil after the destruction the duo had just caused. There was nothing to see other than icy peaks and frozen plains. The rhythmic cracking taps from the beetles¡¯ legs as it walked was the only sounds to break the blanket of silence. It was not long after exiting the valley that he felt a weariness take hold. Lulled into existence by the steady rocking of their transport, and the strange serenity off their quiet surrounds. Soon Mickie felt his eyes beginning to grow heavy. Sleep called, and it was a losing battle.

    <hr>

    Mickie awoke to insistent tugging on his ear.

    ¡®Hey kid, its show time. Get ready to make a mess.¡¯

    Turning his head slowly, Mickie met a set of golden eyes and impish grin full of sharp teeth. His back crapped from the uncomfortable sleeping position on the lumpy ore. Stretching out the ache in his spine, Mickie took in their surrounds. Dead ahead the imposing black castle grew ever larger, reaching upwards to punch through the ceiling. The frosty cave entrance into the structure sat like an open maw into darkness, ready to welcome them back into the beast¡¯s belly. The sight of it was like cold water trickling onto the back of his neck. Mickie thought of the cold and cruel Mechanist, of the grotesque bodies piled and transformed into a resource for collection. It was time to go hard or die trying. He cracked the tension from his neck.

    ¡®Let¡¯s rock and roll.¡¯

    Soon the castle had swallowed them, the pair blind in the darkness of the Mechanist¡¯s tunnels. Mickie attempted to recall just how far it was to their goal, but measuring their time spent in the dark was difficult. Instead, he closed his eyes and attempted to calm his breathing. The plan was straightforward, simple really, he was confident in its success. Yet waiting in the tunnel for it all to kick-off was torturous. That¡¯s why Mickie almost sighed in relief when Miz-Mag piped up with a whisper.

    ¡®Hey kid. Something¡¯s up. Dead ahead.¡¯

    His eyes snapped open, and Mickie peered into the distant tunnel. There was a light growing brighter as they approached. They couldn¡¯t have already reached the central hub for the beetles. Mickie¡¯s sense of time in the tunnels was poor, however he was certain it was far too early. As the light source came into view, he felt his stomach drop. Glinting metal forms filled the tunnel ahead, a cordon of robotic bodies ready to inspect any passing machine. Had the Mechanist known they would be coming this way? Or maybe it had put checks in all the passages back into the castle. It was earlier than he might have liked but looking at the approaching wall of steel Mickie made the decision to expedite the plan. He leant in close to Miz-Mag and whispered low.

    ¡®I¡¯m going to cause a distraction. They¡¯ll be looking for signs of my passage, and if I make a racket, they should hopefully be too busy chasing me through the halls to check the beetle.¡¯

    Miz-Mag looked at him. Instead of fear or hesitation Mickie only saw anticipation in the sadistic devil¡¯s eyes.

    ¡®That¡¯ll work. You¡¯ll have to lose the horde though; they¡¯ll be gunning for you.¡¯

    With a grim nod Mickie reach down to scoop up three of the cylindrical explosives. He tucked them under an arm and dropped silently off the side of the moving beetle. The flooring of the tunnel was rigged metal, and Mickie¡¯s feet slapped against it with barely a sound. He did not have much time to act and needed to play this distraction just right. If Mickie was too quick, the robots might associate him with their beetle by proximity. To slow and they might take the time to pause and check to crawler. As far as the machines knew, there was only one intruder, and if he was already located then they shouldn¡¯t take the time to check passing beetles. He glanced back to find Miz-Mag getting close to the distant robots. The machines had not yet reacted to their brethren, but it would not be long. He pressed a button on one of the bombs and hurled it down the tunnel.

    ¡®COME AND TRY IT!¡¯

    The battle cry echoed in the steely confines, travelling the length of the tunnel to reach the cordon of robots. Mickie could see them all suddenly shift, even from this distance, heads quirking and posture stiffening. Instead of running away Mickie set off up the passage towards them, running hard to put some distance between himself and the impending explosion. The blast went off with the fury of an angry god when it came. The sound tore at his ears and Mickie felt something rupture, noise cutting off entirely on his right. A hammer of hot air landed on his back and launched him up the tunnel, sending him rolling with the breath gone from his lungs.

    Mickie gasped through the ringing in his head. He had lost the other two bombs in the blast and now reached about for them, desperate. Blurry eyes came into focus as he grasped a cylindrical shape in one hand, pulling it to his chest like a child with a plushie. Up ahead a storm of steel was approaching, flowing down the tunnel with lights held high. Machines of endless variety, the familiar centipedes wove between the four legs of stomping monstrous constructions. Long necks held spotlights that scanned the tunnel, looking for some sign of their quarry. Sleek mantis¡¯ darted ahead of the pack, claws ready to catch upon hidden flesh. Mickie noticed smaller machines resembling dogs keeping pace alongside them. Groggy, but desperate to get ahead of this monstrous tide, Mickie stumbled to his feet and set off down the tunnel. Hopefully his demonic recovery would fix him up enough to fight when the horde inevitably arrived.

    His stumbling steps took him onward, until suddenly Mickie lost his foot in the poor light. Stomach in his throat he tripped over a jagged chunk of metal, slicing his shin, and sprawling into a small crater. It appeared his bomb had damaged the floor of the passage, blasting chunks away and leaving a warped crater. Mickie hardly registered the pain of the tumble over the feeling of a loose object digging into his side. In the improving light, he confirmed it to be the second bomb. Who knew how it had rolled all the way down here so quickly, but he was not going to complain. With a flash of dizzy inspiration Mickie used some of his dwindling time to pull off his ragged shirt. He wrapped the newly recovered bomb in it and stumbled out of the small crater. Gauging the proximity of the machines, he guessed they were close enough for his plan to work. Clutching the remaining explosive close, Mickie pressed the button of on his newly wrapped present and dropped the package back into the crater.

    Not hanging around to see how his plan played out, he stumbled down the path and away from the ticking bomb. Behind him there was a chorus of clattering limbs signifying the approaching metal horde. Unable to resist glancing back, Mickie found the machines swarming into the crater, investigating his discarded shirt. Some of the mantises and hounds disregarded the present however, taking interest in something else. The moved past the crater and Mickie wanted to scream. Instead, his mental count hit seven and Mickie dropped to the floor, curling about the remaining bomb and covering his ears.

    The blast came soon after, handled better than the first from his huddled position but still slamming him like a stomp from a mammoth. Something heavy crashed nearby, shaking the metal floor before continuing down the tunnel. A sensation of heat came from Mickies leg and he cracked open his eyes to find a sharp piece of shrapnel lodged in his thigh. He felt oddly calm, reaching up to pull the metal free and toss it aside. When he noticed the blood beginning to pulse from the wound an idle thought tumbled into his head, that maybe it would have been wiser to leave it in. Setting down his bomb Mickie pressed a tattered pants leg against the wound and sat upright.

    He summoned his gun and scanned the surroundings. Robotic debris stretched up the tunnel, metal chunks in a variety of sizes and states. The spotlight of the massive machine had gone out in the blast, replaced by the flickering light of flames dancing along some of the larger metal chunks. Mickie let out a dry cough of a laugh. His previously non-functioning ear was droning insistently, and he gave a shake of his head to try and clear it.

    ¡®Stupid bots.¡¯

    Apparently taking offence to that comment, the sound of whirring servos came from nearby, accompanied by an unsteady tapping. One of the hound robots staggered about a hunk of metal and stumbled towards him. It was missing a leg, and another had been rendered inoperable, forcing the robot to limp unsteadily. Yet the machine came right his way, homing in on Mickie like a real dog with a scent. He wanted to scream in frustration, these damn machines were relentless. When the hound was less than a foot away Mickie raised his gun to it and fired. Plating warped, machinery splintered, and the robots was launched back and away from him. It crashed into another chunk of metal and came to a stop. Mickie sighed at the rising clamour of shifting metal that filled the tunnel following his actions, it appeared he had woken the remaining bolt bags.

    The gun thunked over to the dark eyed puma head as the scent of sulphur faded. From his right a mantis dragged its upper half along the ground towards him, clicking razor claws against the floor. Ahead a more intact mantis crested larger piece of debris, alert and scanning for him. If Mickie shot the crippled one, the other would be on him in moments. Instead, he stood quietly, dismissing his gun to free up both hands. Once upright, he snuck towards the scouting mantis, thankful for the racket the remaining machines made as they shuffled about. A functional hound rounded the flames to his left and Mickie froze. He eyed the sleek robot as it wound toward his previous position. Once it had past, he continued towards the mantis, stepping over the twitching remnants of a spider bot. The air was beginning to thicken with acrid smoke and his throat began to itch with the need to cough. Tamping down the desire, Mickie reach the base of the metal chunk upon which the mantis stood. It appeared to be the broken head of the massive long necked machine, lying inert with the spotlight shattered and warped.

    The shot was simple to make, the mantis was stationary apart from a head that scanned the surrounding warzone. Mickie pulled the trigger and with a puff of black smoke took the top of the robot off. Instantly he darted away from the scene of the crime, distancing himself from the telltale blast. It was not a moment too soon, as a dog tore into the space he had just occupied, whipping about to catch him. Thinking himself free, Mickie was rather suddenly betrayed by his trusty weapon clicking over to the lion¡¯s head. Instantly the dog dove at him, and Mickie raised his gun to shoot, blasting the bot in the side and shattering its innards.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The extended commotion caused him to miss the second dog that had snuck up from behind. A sudden force sent Mickie sprawling forward and he tumbled as a line of fire blazed across his back. Rolling aside he put some distance between himself and the hound as it pounced again, raking claws across the metal floor. The metal beast tracked the sound of his movements, turning and rushing his position. Rather than roll for distance, Mickie tracked its movement and shifted out its way. When the bot came close, he lashed out with both legs and set it tumbling. Not giving the dog a chance to recover, he raised his weapon as the lion¡¯s head clicked into place and fired. Immediately he moved away again, staying low to avoid the worst of the hazy air.

    After a long stretch with no further prowling machines, Mickie concluded he had dealt with the worst of the remaining robots. Instead of stopping to rest he did a swift round of the debris field, dealing with any jostling remnants that appeared agile enough to attempt pursuit. The smoke was getting worse, and Mickie was unable to hold back a bout of coughing back as he reached the epicentre of his trap. The Initial crater had deepened, leaving a jagged hole within the floor that led into darkness. Glancing up the smoky tunnel, Mickie was uncertain if moving through the haze was a good idea. Considering that the machines were most likely swarming towards this spot, he figured the crater might provide a convenient escape. He took hold of a large slab of metal debris and used it to swat the flaming core of a machine into to cratered hole. The lights of the fire sputtered as the metal fell but came flickering back to life as the scrap clattered against the ground.

    From all appearances the path below was a tunnel just like this one, with a drop of about four to five meters. Steeling himself, Mickie tossed down his swatting sheet and took hold of the hole¡¯s edge. He paused before lowering himself into the new tunnel. Perhaps it would be best to hide his passage, it might give him more time to escape. It was the work of about a minute to drag pieces of debris into the crater and cover most of the hole. When only a small gap remained, Mickie tucked his recovered bomb between his legs and lowered himself down to hang over the next passage. Below him the flaming metal flickered, reflecting off shining walls and pushing back the dark. The cut to his leg had stopped bleeding, however liquid dribbled down his back from the hound¡¯s earlier slash. Hoping the fall would not worsen the wounds Mickie swung away from the flame below and dropped to the ground. The fall was not insubstantial, certainly enough to hurt him before he had died. With his strange demon body however, Mickie handled the landing with role, the bomb falling from between his legs to clang hard against the metal floor. Wincing at the rough treatment of his final explosive, he stood and set about the task of escaping.

    With the bomb in one hand, he moved to use the flat sheet of debris as a swat for the flaming metal chunk but paused. Recalling how little the ice outside had affected him Mickie looked thoughtfully to the flames dancing on the metal floor. Gingerly he reached towards the metal, feeling the heat against his palm but not the expected pain. Taking a deep breath Mickie plunged his hand into the fire.

    ¡®Like a desert breeze.¡¯

    Mickie laughed in disbelief and put a finger to the metal, feeling the warmth of a bowl that spent some time in the microwave. Hot but not unbearably so. He scooped up the flaming debris and held it up, mesmerised by the flame in his hand. Apparently, he couldn¡¯t get burnt. Wild. Holding a flaming object felt far stranger even than walking barefoot across a frozen waste. An echoing clang from above broke Mickie from his stupor. With a shake of his head, he moved up the tunnel, heading into the dark and away from any pursuing machines.

    For some time, Mickie¡¯s world was reduced to the flickering borders of his fire light, punctuated only by the slap of his footfalls. He had run some distance initially, eager to put some ground between himself and the smoking wreckage his bomb had wrought. Eventually fatigue had set in and with no signs of machines in pursuit, Mickie slowed to a walk. Every time he reached an intersection, he chose the path that lead upwards, hopefully towards the upper reaches of the castle. The shifts in direction had bolstered Mickie¡¯s confidence in having escaped the Machine horde, so when a faint tapping came from nearby, he nearly dropped his light in surprise.

    That. That had been close. Closer than he would have thought possible for a machine to get without him noticing. It had come from behind; something must have managed to track him somehow. Turning about slowly Mickie held aloft his flaming piece of metal and attempted to catch a glimpse of his silent pursuer. Seconds thudded by with no sight or sound to alert him. Perhaps he had been mistaken. It might have come from another tunnel or perhaps some mechanism within the walls. Unwilling to take any chances Mickie started to back slowly up the tunnel, keeping his eyes peeled for movement in the dark. Moments later it came again. A rhythmic click-tap. Quiet but discernible all the same. This time when Mickie froze the clicking did not stop. It grew louder, coming closer. A gleaming shell reflected the firelight briefly before fading back into the dark. Then came the voice, cold, soft, and without intonation.

    ¡®A light with no source. Tell me creature, are you there?¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s blood turned to ice at the sound. He knew that voice. It had tormented him not all that long ago. Carefully, he moved the bomb under one arm and summoned his gun.

    ¡®I realised you escaped onto the ice. Although I am surprised to see you actually came scurrying back. For a moment I thought it would be necessary to retrieve you.¡¯

    Then it emerged from the dark, low and sleek. A body of rippling carapace pieces that glowed in the firelight. Six legs with razor claws that clicked against the floor was the only sign of its passage. Taller than him, broader than him, quieter than him. The head had a distinct mammalian predator shape, and it arced about, searching for a sign of wayward prey.

    ¡®After the commotion you caused, I decided I needed to take custody of you personally. Indeed, I have been making this body for the express purpose of such.¡¯

    The machine was well within the light now, Mickie¡¯s hand tightened on his weapon as it approached. He needed to cripple this thing on the first shot.

    ¡®So, creature, if you will not tell me you are there, I will have to find you myself.¡¯

    A panel on the front of the robot¡¯s head slid open to reveal an eye. It was larger than anything Mickie had seen on a human, bloodshot with an icy white iris. The grotesque organ swivelled about briefly before focussing upon him.

    ¡®Ah, there you are.¡¯

    Mickie raised his gun, but it was too late. The Mechanist was before him with claws raking inwards. Instead of taking the machine in the head, his blast went low while he attempted to dodge. One of the middle legs of the creature was blown apart while the front claws dug into his side, slicing deep as Mickie spun away. There was a clang of metal as the cylindrical explosive fell to the floor and rolled away. The Mechanist didn¡¯t seem to notice, giving him no chance to rest as it came upon him once more, swinging a claw from the right. With no time to dodge Michie raised his gun to block, however the machines swing was too powerful, and the weapon flew from his grip. With only the flaming stone left to him, Mickie attempted to punch the metal face plate with it, aiming for the eye. It was only then that he noticed the robot had a tail, a long prehensile appendage that blurred over its body. With the strike of a scorpion, the tail speared him near the right shoulder, punching out his back before wrapping about his arm. Suddenly Mickie was in the air, his own attack missing entirely as he was lifted by the metallic tail. Unable to hold back a scream as the metal ground against his ribs Mickie cried out. The Machine below fluttered its plating at the sound.

    ¡®Ah, and now I have you. How simple it was with organics.¡¯

    The tail lowered him closer the eye in the machines head as the grotesque orb was spun upwards to face him. Mickie attempted to kick at it, but the Mechanist held him just out of reach.

    ¡®So curious, it appears you truly were human.¡¯

    Mickie gripped the tail with his right hand, attempting to alleviate some of the pressure upon his punctured body. From nearby there was a thunking sound.

    ¡®How was it then that you evaded me so?¡¯

    The eye scanned him greedily.

    ¡®And you managed to reattach a lost appendage. Curious.¡¯

    The mechanist rotated him slightly, examining his healed right hand. Then it froze.

    ¡®The mark. The traitor. How?¡¯

    For the first time he could recall, Mickie heard emotion in the soulless voice. The Mechanist sounded angry, voice a sibilant hiss. Though that was not all, there was a quaver to the tone that spoke of fear.

    ¡®Afraid machine?¡¯

    His rasped comment was met with pain as the robot tightened its tail, siding it slowly deeper into his body. Black spots appeared in Mickie¡¯s vision, and he grasped desperately to both consciousness and the flaming metal in his hand.

    ¡®You carry the mark of the Soul Lord. You will tell me how you attained it.¡¯

    The mechanist pulled him closer; he probably could even kick it from this distance. An icy eye stared unblinking at him, the only living part of this body revealing its fury. Mickie gasped out a breath.

    ¡®Well, you see¡­¡¯

    Then he released the tail with his right hand and called his loaded gun to it, immediately blasting the robotic appendage apart. From so close a portion of the tail simply vanished, dropping Mickie right towards the head of the Mechanist. As he fell Mickie swung his flaming torch at the organic eye. The machine reacted quickly, a metal panel beginning to cover the organics. However, it was too late. Mickie slammed his flaming steel into the bloodshot orb before hitting the ground and rolling away. It was not a moment too soon as his metal foe slammed its front claws down where he had just been. Desperate not to make a sound, Mickie crawled away from the monster as it shook its head like a dog.

    ¡®You would attack me with the heart of one of my children, human? As if holding it as a trophy was not crime enough.¡¯

    As the flaming metal dislodged from the face of the machine Mickie looked back to see a ruin of gunk and oily fire where the eye once sat. The Mechanist lashed about with its bulky form, searching for a sign of his presence. Careful to remain quiet, Mickie placed his gun gently on the ground and walked away from it. Moments later the barrel thunked as it rotated, and the twisting machine immediately pounced. Mickie called his gun into his hand and shot the creature in the shoulder as it landed, taking a front leg. With only four limbs remaining the Mechanist lashed out with its severed tail, slamming it into Mickie and sending him tumbling. The end of the tail still in his shoulder caught as he rolled and pulled free a gasp from his lips. Before he had even stopped moving the crippled robot was somehow right before him. A claw landed right by his head and Mikie dared not even breath.

    ¡®You think if you destroy this body that it will be over human? I am endless in these tunnels, even now my children rush to this location. You will never escape.¡¯

    He needed his gun to reload. Then he could summon it an slip away again. Before Mickie got the chance however the world suddenly roared, shaking as if the castle itself were about to fall. As the quake continued the Mechanist let lose a howl. A high pitch whine of absolute anguish the caused his teeth to ache. Mickie was so surprised at the noise coming from his adversary that for a moment he hesitated to react. The sound of his gun reloading kick started his brain and Mickie raised his weapon. The golden lion roared out with a flash, blasting straight into the underside of the machine¡¯s head. Just as suddenly as it started the Mechanist¡¯s scream cut off. Yet the construct itself was not yet dead. As Mickie rolled to his feet, he was almost slammed by its lashing tail. Looking at the rigid robot it appeared that whatever had taken hold of the Mechanist had not vanished with its wail. While its tail lashed about in a frenzy the rest of the body was locked rigid. Somewhere deep within the palace there was another bang and crash, shaking the metal under Mickie¡¯s feet.

    Unwilling to waste an advantage he shot out one of the remaining legs the moment his gun rotated barrels. This was a rear leg, leaving the robot with only a single clawed limb at the front on its left side. The machine began to wobble dangerously with its swishing tail. Next up was the remaining front leg, toppling the Mechanist¡¯s shell as it lost all support on one side. For the next minute or so Mickie blasted the machine into scrap, stopping only when the lashing tail finally fell limp. He stood, breathing slowly beside the silent pile of metal, observing the smoking remnants under the flickering light of his metal torch.

    ¡®The goal was never to escape.¡¯

    With a final look Mickie turned to collect his torch and bomb.

    ¡®Stupid fucking machine.¡¯

    <hr>

    Miz-Mag watched as Mickie dropped off beetle¡¯s side and vanished into the dark. The little demon had agreed to the human¡¯s plan more out of desire to keep the mortal moving than any true craving for violence. To be sure Miz-Mag loved chaos as much as the next demon, but it was beginning to think Mickie might be willing to deliver them both a fatal dose of mayhem.

    Watching its partner disappear from sight, the creature turned back to the cordon of machines. It had no doubt that the Mechanist was taking measures to catch them as they tried to sneak by. Hopefully Mickie would be able to provide enough of a distraction. Just in case the human was not loud enough, Miz-Mag began to heft chunks of metalized humans over their stacked explosives. It was exceedingly careful to keep space around the trigger buttons, it wouldn¡¯t matter if they were noticed if he set the whole lot off accidently. Moments after completing his rudimentary covering there was a shout and distant explosion, one that shook tunnel and send hot air blasting by. Miz-Mag was not bothered by the heat, though the jostling of the bombs made it nervous. Up ahead the horde of robots reacted like a pack of feral dogs, rushing as one towards the disturbance. Miz-Mag¡¯s eyes widened at they drew close, worried his plodding beetle would be crushed by their passage. However, the machines flowed around him like water about a stone. The little demon noticed a couple of robots glancing into the tray, but its covering held up under their brief scrutiny. In moments the horde had passed, and Miz-Mag was riding safely into the dark.

    ¡®You¡¯d better make it kid.¡¯

    The remainder of journey was quiet, Miz-Mag and his ride spent the time with nothing but darkness as a distraction. The result was an introspection that the little demon generally preferred to avoid. It thought of the human, Mickie, and the deal that had been struck between them. It was a deal that Miz-Mag had slowly lost any hope of making, having spent a century wandering the base of the castle without a suitable candidate ever appearing. Climbing higher was impossible for the demon by itself. The being at the top of the castle saw to that. For all it grew uncertain of ever finding a partner, the prospect of death terrified Miz-Mag. It had seen the river of souls that flowed beneath the ninth circle, painful to look upon and impossible to comprehend. On the day Mickie appeared in his cage that¡¯s exactly what Miz-Mag had been doing. Looking at the twisting white and wondering what it would be like to fall in. Was there something beyond Hell? Or was the river simply oblivion made manifest? Either way it was terrified of finding out. That was perhaps, the greatest difference between Mickie and itself. The human appeared to accept death as an inevitability, even in this realm where age was an illusion and all needs were reduced to desires. With Miz-Mag tied to Mickie through their deal, if one soul fell into the river, the other would follow.

    Reposition to get comfortable the little creature winced at the prospect of suddenly being dragged into oblivion. It would be worth it, however. As much as Miz-Mag valued existing there was one thing it valued far more. The climb. To reach the gates within Limbo and step free entirely. The thought made its red skin prickle with anticipation. It had been a drive that Miz-Mag had always known, tied intrinsically to the deal in an instinctive bundle that drove it to Mickie the moment he appeared. The was no way to explain the need to the human, how could encapsulate their very purpose for being into words. Kicking the metal of the beetle with its heel Miz-Mag let lose a rare sigh.

    ¡®Well at least we agree on one thing.¡¯

    It grinned into the black.

    ¡®The Mechanist needs to go.¡¯

    Time past slowly, creeping alongside the plodding beetle until a light drew Miz-Mag¡¯s attention. In the distance was a yellow glow, growing rapidly. Unlike the cordon of machines it had seen with Mickie this light source was moving. As such it was not long before Miz-Mag made out another horde of robots, pounding along the tunnel in the direction the demon had come from. Soon the gleaming bodies were passing by the stomping beetle, just as the other group had. This time however the transport and its contents were hardly given more attention that it took for the machines to move out of the way. Watching the light recede Miz-Mag took the urgency as a good sign, hopefully his partner had evaded the first group. Growing so distant from Mickie was putting a strain on the demon, their connection pulling on it harder to return. The strange rests that Miz-Mag found itself requiring were unexpected. Most likely a byproduct of linking their souls through the deal. Now the little creature was discovering that distance also played a role. As the beetle travelled further away from Mickie the link between them grew taught. It was like Miz-Mag had become a dog tied to the post that was his partners soul. The more he strained on the leash the harder it pulled back and the more it took to resist. It just needed to hold on a little longer. Up ahead was another growing speck of light, and this time Miz-Mag knew it had arrived.

    The beetle crawled out into the central hub, blending seamlessly into the mass of its brethren. Miz-Mag could see the central pit, a ring of open air cut into both the floor and the ceiling. Hanging in the air, above the sea of shifting beetles was the giant body of the Mechanist. Mickie had theorised that such a huge and central mass was most likely a main processing point for the bag of bolts. Looking up at the monstrous construction Miz-Mag had to agree. At the very least taking this thing out might throw the machines for enough of a loop to provide the pair with a chance to slip past. The beetle it rode moved directly for the central body, no doubt angling for a tunnel on the opposite side of the chamber. As Miz-Mag approach the huge construction it hopped from its perch and wandered over to one of the bombs, slamming the button on the top. To be sure the demon hit another three buttons then peered back up at the approaching mass of metal limbs and cameras. From this close Miz-Mag could see the arms of the robot twitching softly, like any organic creature might as it slept.

    ¡®Sweet dreams you metal nightmare.¡¯

    Snickering Miz-Mag reached for the link to Mickie. It took hardly more than an easing of will for their connection to draw the demon in. The tiny red creature vanished, leaving fire and force in its wake.

    <hr>

    Mickie was staggering up a gentle incline within the tunnel when he came across another robotic horde. The machines made themselves known through the screech of metal and flash of lights. Careful to approach silently, Mickie found the metal monsters tearing at each other like rabid animals. Mantis¡¯ cut at the legs of a long necked, spotlight wielding giant as the huge construct crushed a hound underfoot. Spider bots formed mounds of writhing steel limbs that tore each other apart. He saw a wave of them swamp a centipede as it tried to claw at one of the mantises. The scene was utter chaos. Edging about the wild machines, he snuck by and continued off into the tunnel. If the robots were going to go after each other rather than him, Mickie was not going to complain. It looks like Miz-Mag¡¯s little present had been far more effective than either of them could have hoped.

    Originally the plan had been for him to get a bit closer to the central hub before leaving Miz-Mag to blow the explosives. That way the trek out of the tunnels would be shorter and hopefully robot free. After feeling the magnitude of the blast however, Mickie was almost glad the cordon of machines had shown up. If all the robots had gone as insane as those, then it would be a pretty safe walk through the tunnels. After passing several intersections he paused as a familiar sound reached his ears. Rhythmic taps, heavier than those of the Mechanist¡¯s body and growing closer. From an intersection he had recently passed a shadow shifted, moving forward through the dark and into the light of his still burning metal ball. Mickie laughed out loud at the sight of a beetle, scarred, battered, and trotting along the tunnel as if nothing was wrong. The robotic hauler was missing a leg, and a good chunk of its body was warped and dented. The machine appeared to pay Mickie no heed, following its inexorable path through the dark, even as the world went wild around it.

    Peering at the swiftly approaching beetle, Mickie rolled his right shoulder to see how he was healing. The process of removing the Mechanists tail had been slow, Mickie pulling it out inch by inch while the wound closed about it. With the fear of bleeding out a possibility if he pulled the thing out wholesale, the slow removal had been required. It was not that long ago that Mickie had finally removed the last of the appendage, and the bleeding had only recently stopped. Looking at the approaching beetle he decided that a bit more blood would be worth expediting his journey.

    As the hobbling critter neared, he sprinted towards it, tossing his gear inside before jumping and grasping onto the tray as it past. His wound immediately burst, and Mickie groaned as he hauled on the beetle and flopped into the blackened container on its back. The landing was not comfortable, it appeared this hauler had been transporting metal ore when it was set upon by the rabid robots. Most of the dark material had fallen out when it was attacked, most likely through a huge hole he noted in the beetle¡¯s rear. There was still enough of the stuff to jab and stab at Mickie as he landed however, and he wasted no time removing the rest to secure his new resting spot. Task complete, he settled in for the ride with a hand to the hole in his right side, attempting to stem the flow of blood. Mickie was worried he might be pushing his whacky demon body a bit far. Despite having slept before entering the tunnels it was not long before his eyes drooped with exhaustion. He couldn¡¯t sleep yet though, if the beetle bumbled into a pack of insane robots he would be caught up in the chaos. It was important he stay awake.

    Mickie jolted alert with heart wrenching panic. He could smell smoke and fire, something was burning. Siting up searching for flames, all Mickie found was the tray of the beetle, only himself and his gear inside. The flaming metal torch had rolled against his leg at some point, and now rested against the fabric of his pants. While Mickie himself was immune to fire, his ragged and torn clothes were not. Swearing, he scooped up the light and batted at the lightly burning hole it had made in his remaining coverings. Without a shirt these threadbare pants were all Mickie had, and he did not want to wander the castle naked.

    With his remaining modesty secured Mickie took in his surroundings. It appeared that the beetle had stopped for some reason, even though they were in the middle of a dark tunnel. Lowering himself from the construct was a painful affair, with just about every muscle and bone complaining about the recent poor treatment. Despite this Mickie still took the time to carefully cradle his remaining bomb while exiting. The cylinder of death had been poorly treated recently and now things were calmer he was somewhat wary of test the device¡¯s stability further. Belongings secured, Mickie moved up the tunnel to find another beetle standing stationary. This one was even more beat up than his, the back end of it all but gone to leave the hauler with four legs.

    ¡®Weird. Why are they just stopped like that?¡¯

    Moving onward Mickie found an extended line of the hardy constructs, all stationary and queued up with perfect spacing between them. After the first ten or so Mickie began to count them, as he counted higher the transports started to look in better condition. These must have been some of the earliest to arrive, and as such had avoided their rabid brethren. At the forty-eighth beetle Mickie noticed light in the distance. Picking up his pace the count of constructs was soon left to the wayside, however he did note that as the light grew, the beetles began to rabidly deteriorate in condition once more. Mickie soon rounded a bend in the tunnel, the end coming into view and leaving him speechless.

    Beyond the smoking wreckage of a final few beetles was what must have once been the central hub. Staggering up to the tunnel¡¯s opening Mickie had to steady himself. The platform leading out into the open space was all but gone, leaving jagged edges of metal hanging over a massive void, warped and misshapen, like the teeth of a lamprey with bad dental. The walls were bent and cratered, with entire sections missing to reveal a ruin of cables and inner platting. Dotting the ruined surface, like the paths in an ant¡¯s nest, were innumerable tunnel entries. They stretch up to a distant ceiling, always aligned with the remnants of metal walkways. What captured the bulk of Mickie¡¯s attention, however, was a massive misshapen ball of flaming metal. It lay some levels below where he currently stood, resting on what would have once been the bottom floor of the chamber. While not as devastated at the platforms had been, lowest level was rent with as many wounds as the walls, cracks leading into darkness. The molten ball must be what remained of the Mechanist¡¯s huge central body. He had made a gamble that it was vital to the operation of the lair, and it looked like he had been right. Strewn about the flaming wreck was countless beetles, broken into an uncountable number of pieces and silent as the grave. Oddly enough, Mickie felt a twinge of sentimental guilt at the piles shattered remains. The beetles were the only robots who had actually been of any help to him. Even if it was unintentional.

    ¡®Sorry guys, if it¡¯s any consolation, it was a worthy sacrifice.¡¯

    Turning away from the graveyard Mickie considered the upper reaches of the huge room.

    ¡®Now how the Hell am I going to get up there?¡¯

 6 â€“ The Upper Reaches

    The devastated central hub within the Mechanist¡¯s lair was backlit by the dirty flame coming from a huge ball of scrap. Light danced about the jagged remains of mighty steel platforms, making the space appear like the mouth of a monstrous beast. Mickie needed to clamber up this mouth to reach the shadowed ceiling far above. Hopefully one of the tunnels up there would take him straight to the exit of the palace, and he could leave this terrible tower behind. Taking a slow step out onto what remained of his level¡¯s platform Mickie examined the distance to the next floor up. The tunnels themselves were about four to five meters tall, and with the platform being set a distance above, he estimated a climb of about six meters per level.

    Examining the pitted and scarred walls of the chamber, the solution to his problem presented itself a short walk away. Moving carefully along a path of bent metal Mickie soon reached an edge leading to open air. It appeared that some giant piece of shrapnel had slammed into both the platform and the wall behind it, rending a scar in the metal that revealed a mess of cabling and warped structural framework. The tear cut through multiple levels of the hub, ending at a tunnel entrance three platforms higher. With no other options, Mickie quickly took to scaling the innards of the wall. Instead of using recently healed right arm to climb, he wrapped it about his final explosive. While unwilling to leave the explosive device behind, Mickie had lobbed his burning hunk of metal into the pit below. It had saddened him to ditch the light source, but he did not want to risk holding it close to the bomb while climbing.

    Making the climb with a single arm should have been far more challenging than it ended up being. His weird demon body proved more than up for the task, however. Soon Mickie was clambering over the lip of the tunnel above where it met the scar in the wall. He pulled himself into the large hole and was met by the smoking remains of a beetle in the entrance. Poor hauler must have dragged itself along to the edge before it gave out for good. Beyond the ruined construct Mickie could make out a line of the creatures, stretching into the dark. Looking once more at the number of tunnels in the chamber he marvelled at thought of them all having a queue like this. It was like he and Miz-Mag had shattered the heart of the Mechanist¡¯s operations; nothing could flow through these tunnels anymore. Hopefully these beetles would be as essential to the castle as blood was to a body. If the denizens of this monstrosity were kept busy dealing with the fallout of the explosion, they might not notice him slipping by.

    A cursory examination of the level he now occupied revealed no easy climbing spots. The walls were still a ruin of pitted metal, but there were no useful rends in them like the one he had just ascended. It appeared the climb would only be getting harder from here on out. Mickie stood to shuffle along the remains of the platform to a suitably damaged portion of steel when a squeaking voice suddenly came from his shoulder.

    ¡®Holy shit kid.¡¯

    Miz-Mag had returned from its rest and was staring dumbfounded at the damage they had wrought.

    ¡®You know, I¡¯ve never really been able to do much. Too small you see, built for hiding and all that. I never even thought something like this would be possible. We killed the damned Mechanist.¡¯

    The tiny creature seemed in awe, it let loose a disbelieving laugh.

    ¡®The Mechanist just is kid. An ant doesn¡¯t kill the boot when it falls.¡¯

    Mickie turned an eye to the demon and gave a grin.

    ¡®I¡¯m sure an ant could manage if it had the volume of explosives that we did.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯d say.¡¯

    As he turned back towards the busted wall Miz-Mag seemed to note the cargo he carried.

    ¡®My dear boy, how do you even still have one of those bombs, and for that matter, where has your shirt gone.¡¯

    Mickie hefted his remaining explosive as they continued towards a promising climbing spot.

    ¡®Well, I used it to cover up a bomb to take out the machines.¡¯

    ¡®And I assume it worked?¡¯

    ¡®For the most part, I took out most of the horde with the blast and shot the rest before slipping away.¡¯

    ¡®Lovely work my friend. So, you were home free after that?¡¯

    Mickie shrugged the should without a demon on it.

    ¡®For the most part. Mechanist managed track me down.¡¯

    The squeaky exclamation Miz-Mag gave, necessitated a longer explanation on his part. Having reached the best climbing spot on the wall, Mickie ran through the events as best he could while clambering up. Without easy access to the internals of the chamber he was required to use sharp metal for handholds. Mickie finally reached the next level with hands aching from numerous cuts, puffed from the climb and his explanation.

    ¡®I get having the bomb is good and all kid, but surely it would be easier to climb without it.¡¯

    Mickie wiped the blood from a slice on his palm off on his pants.

    ¡®We still need to make it out of the palace itself after this. I¡¯m not going to leave such a useful tool behind.¡¯

    Miz-Mag protested no further as they found another spot to climb and continued onwards. As the pair clambered ever higher in the chamber the difficulty grew, the wall¡¯s condition gradually improving with distance from the blast. Eventually they reached an impasse a few levels before the ceiling. The platform above was the most intact yet, and Mickie could see no easy spots where damage opened a path past it. If the duo wanted to climb further, they would have to deal with an overhang of warped metal. Miz-Mag appeared to agree with his assessment.

    ¡®Well, my good man, looks like it¡¯s going to be the long way around from here.¡¯

    With a sniff Mickie turned to the best possible spot for a climb.

    ¡®Not quite yet. Who knows where these tunnels will take us, and I don¡¯t want to give the demons time to reorganise after the damage we did. We need to hit them when they¡¯re distracted.¡¯

    ¡®Well sure, that¡¯s nice and all, but it doesn¡¯t change the fact you aren¡¯t climbing up top with that bomb.¡¯

    He gave the demon a look that had the creature narrowing its eyes in suspicion.

    ¡®Well then I won¡¯t climb with it.¡¯

    Miz-Mag made a serious racket when Mickie threw it onto the next level, cursing loudly as it clung to the steel floor. It turned out the demon was not entirely willing to go through with his idea, so Mickie had just moved ahead with it anyway. He didn¡¯t get what the problem was, if anything happened Miz-Mag could just pull its vanishing act and be fine. When he next lobbed the bomb towards the little fiend, the cursing died out for a few moments. The cylindrical explosive landed flat on the platform and immediately started rolling for the edge. His companion hurried to hurls its tiny body before the object, and like Sisyphus with his bolder, push the bomb up the sloped platform. With both hands-free Mickie found the climb almost comically easy. The spot he selected for his climb had fewer handholds, though the reduced overhang from the damaged metal above made up for it. Within a minute he was pulling himself onto the platform, just as Miz-Mag got the explosive to a safe spot.

    ¡®Damn crazy kid. You sure you aren¡¯t a demon yourself?¡¯

    Mickie scooped up his companion and the bomb.

    ¡®Not a chance. Don¡¯t even have horns.¡¯

    Examining this level, Mickie could not believe his own luck. On the other side of the ruined platform was a massive chuck of metal debris. It half hung out of a tunnel, wedge into the metal above to provide a serviceable ramp up. The pair picked their way over and Mickie slowly clambered up the steep incline until he had reached one of the highest floors in the chamber. Looking up, it seemed that their days of easy climbing were over. Above them were another two platforms, damaged but not unreasonably so when compared to the first few they had past.

    ¡®Surely you aren¡¯t thinking on trying for those, kid.¡¯

    Mickie shook his head.

    ¡®No, even if I lobbed you and the bomb up, I¡¯m not sure I could make the climb.¡¯

    His companion breathed a sigh of relief as they turned towards the dark of the tunnel. This passage into darkness was one of a few scattered around the platform they had just reached. In the same manner as each of the entrances they had past during the long climb up, this one had a queue of beetles waiting. The hauling robots seemed to be in a far better condition up this high compared to their ragged brethren down below.

    ¡®Thoughts on this tunnel?¡¯

    Miz-Mag only gave a shrug in response. As Mickie had no real way of distinguishing between the paths either, he figured this one was as good as any other. The duo walked from the light of the Mechanist¡¯s central hub and into the dark once more.

    <hr>

    It could only have been at most half an hour since Mickie and Miz-Mag moved into the dark tunnel. Mickie had managed to stumble into the stationary beetles twice so far, and now walked with a hand to one of the walls to avoid further mishaps. The black was total, and the lack of any activity outside his own bumbling attempts to navigate the passage was setting Mickie on edge. He felt like they were walking up a gentle slope, but it was hard to confirm without seeing the passage under his feet. Miz-Mag had been telling him of its own mission while they walked. How the demon could so thoroughly embellish a story about sneaking past some robots and setting off a bomb he did not know. His companion however, had managed to fill a fair chunk of the walk so far with its bombastic retelling. So when the critter finally shut up for a handful of seconds Mickie was almost concerned.

    ¡®Would you look at that. My friend, I believe I see light up ahead.¡¯

    Never had such a squeaky voice been so soothing to Mickie¡¯s ears. He immediately picked up the pace, hand bouncing along the wall as he jogged onwards. It was not altogether long before he could make out the faint glow as well, seeming to come from a branching tunnel to the right. Following the new passage, the pair soon found themselves exiting the tunnel network and entering a small warehouse. The metal path of the tunnel ended in a loading dock, a step making it easy for the beetles to be unloaded on arrival. Currently the dock appeared empty, no beetles at rest and no workers scurrying about to handle cargo. As Mickie vaulted the dock wall, he noted a number of crates and boxes stacked in rows by the far wall, though not nearly enough to fill the space. The room felt almost cramped compared to the scale of what he had seen from the Mechanist so far. Looking about, he thought the general d¨¦cor was less in line with the Mechanist as well. The floor was a grey concrete instead of dark metal, and the walls were similar. Only the large lights dangling from ceiling supports really matched the metal monster¡¯s style.

    Moving over to a crate, Mickie attempted to prise the top off. Not having any luck he summoned his gun and turned an eye to Miz-Mag. The demon nodded eagerly at his silent question. Before Mickie was able to make use of his explosive box opener, there was the sounds of footsteps from nearby. Cursing inwardly he attempted to find a place to hide. While he did intend to wreak some havoc through the upper levels it would be nice to get the lay of the land before he got started. With not easy spots to duck behind he swiftly unsummoned his gun, stashed the bomb between two crates, and began to climb the one of the orderly rows. He had just made it over the top when a pair of figures walked by the end of his row. Mickie caught a glimpse of an imp, squat and red like the ones he had seen in Administration. Besides the imp was a figure that was shocking in its familiarity. Shorter than him at a guess, and with long hair as dark as his own. It was another human. Without stopping to think if he would be detected, Mickie set off along his row of crates.

    ¡®Kid what are you doing? You really don¡¯t want to let them know we¡¯re here yet.¡¯

    Miz-Mag was ignored as he approached the end of his row. From nearby a pair of voices started chatting in heated tones. It had appeared the human and imp had stopped amongst the crates nearby, allowing him to overhear the conversation.

    ¡®Alright mortal, I need a full stock take of this storage room by weeks end. I don¡¯t want to see you until you bring me that list.¡¯

    There was a muttered reply that Mickie couldn¡¯t make out, followed by the sound of skin hitting flesh. He winced at the sharpness of it.

    ¡®Do not test me right now human. Something has happened to the Mechanist, there have been no deliveries since that explosion shook the palace. We will be prepared. I will not fail the Palace Lord due to your incompetence.¡¯

    After a brief pause, footsteps sounded again, and Mickie ducked out of sight as the imp moved towards a distant set of doors. He remained still until well after the imp had left, expecting to hear the sounds of crates being opened to have their contents checked. Instead, there were some quiet mutterings before silence descended on the warehouse. Mickie remained still for almost a minute before his self-control faltered. He was sure that had been another human down there, and he couldn¡¯t resist passing up the opportunity for a conversation. With as much care as he could manage, Mickie lowered himself to the floor. He had expected Miz-Mag to kick up a fuss, but the demon seemed to have realised he was not going to listen. It leapt from his shoulder and stalked away as Mickie moved to the end of his row.

    Peeking into the area he had heard the demon issuing commands, he found the human. They were not even attempting to look busy, leaning against a stack of boxes while staring out into the dark of the tunnel. As he had noted before they had lengthy dark hair, hanging over threadbare garb of a similar make to Mickies own. A puff of smoke dissipated into the air before the figure as Mickie stepped slowly into the row they occupied. He was moving quietly, unsure how to make himself known without terrifying his fellow human. As it turned out, Mickie was not as silent as he had first thought, and as he took a step forward the figure whipped around in a blur. It was a woman, bordering on the far edge of her middle years and stocky from a life of work. A cigarette dangled from her lips, trailing smoke past gradually widening eyes coloured a deep brown.

    ¡®Holy shit. Thought I heard a rat, but you look more like yesterday¡¯s breakfast.¡¯

    Mickie didn¡¯t reply immediately, instead drinking in the existence of another human in this desolate place. His eyes fell on the cigarette and narrowed in surprise, how had anyone gotten a hold of a luxury like that in Hell? The women caught his attention and her eyes narrowed, she swiftly drew the cigarette from her lips and put it out against a crate. As the remainder went into a pocket Mickie caught a flash of sharp metal in her other hand.

    ¡®You mute or something? What do you want?¡¯

    Honestly if Mickie had to describe the women from an initial glance, he would have said motherly. Her tone and the sharp object she concealed spoke otherwise, however. He felt more like he was about to get mugged than anything else.

    ¡®Nothing I¡­¡¯

    He swallowed.

    ¡®I just got here. Been a while since I¡¯ve seen a friendly face is all.¡¯

    The woman gave him an incredulous look.

    ¡®Just got here? Go see your task master then, don¡¯t talk to me.¡¯

    Then to Mickie¡¯s surprise she turned her back on him.

    ¡®And put on some decent rags before someone important catches sight of you.¡¯

    The dismissal left him stunned. While he had been not sure what to expect from meeting a fellow human in Hell, it sure wasn¡¯t this. Mickie was not one to be dissuaded however, and quickly followed the retreating woman.

    ¡®Look lady, I just got up here. I¡¯ve had a rough few days, and I just want to get the lay of the land from someone.¡¯

    Before him the woman stopped. Hoping he had gotten through to her, Mickie closed to a couple of meters. She suddenly spun about, and Mickie caught a shiny gleam from her hand before reacting in kind. As the lady finished her turn he had his gun summoned, held low as to not be overtly threatening. The pair noted each other¡¯s weapons, Mickie¡¯s gun, and the woman¡¯s metal shiv. The lady gawped at his gun before looking up at him.

    ¡®What in the nine circles is that?¡¯

    She took a step away from him and Mickie let loose a weary sigh. With a flick of the wrist, he dismissed the weapon and raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture.

    ¡®Like I said, I just got here. I just want to talk.¡¯

    There was a tense moment as she stared him down. If anything, his strange display seemed to have put her more on edge than before. So, it was to his surprise when, with a practised flick of the wrist, the shiv vanished and she leant up against the nearby crates with folded arms.

    ¡®Well one thing¡¯s for sure. You are not normal. If you want to talk, fine, we¡¯ll talk, but you got to answer some questions first.¡¯

    Mickie had to stifle a grin. Sure, he wanted some answers of his own, but something told him that even getting this much from the woman was a win. Mirroring her pose against the crates he cut to the chase.

    ¡®Alright, name¡¯s Mickie. Happy to oblige.¡¯

    ¡®Aria. First up, what was that monstrous weapon you pulled from thin air?¡¯

    An expected first question for sure.

    ¡®It¡¯s my gun, got it through a deal with a demon when I first arrived.¡¯

    At the mention of a deal Aria inhaled a sharp breath.

    ¡®A deal? Are you some kind of idiot? How are you even walking free right now?¡¯

    Mickie frowned.

    ¡®It wasn¡¯t like I had much of a choice at the time. Massive stinking bug monster was about to eat me. As for walking free, why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡¯

    ¡®You should be little more than a subservient wreck right now if you cut a deal. Demons only bargain for one thing, and that¡¯s a soul.¡¯

    The middle-aged woman was getting worked up, moving away from the crates to pace the isle. Mickie was tempted to find Miz-Mag and put the blighter to the question. That little demon better not have hold of his soul. Keeping his gaze on Aria however, he thought over what she had said and tied in some rough conjecture of his own. The woman had mentioned subservience, as if those who made a deal were always bound to obey. While Mickie had to climb or die, he was not a complete slave to Miz-Mag¡¯s will. This very conversation was an example of an action contrary to the demon¡¯s wishes. There was also the fact he never recalled handing over his soul, he was sure that was something that would at the very least be noticeable.

    ¡®Well, I don¡¯t remember my soul being part of the bargain. Honestly, I¡¯m beginning to think the demon I cut a deal with is a bit of a weirdo.¡¯

    A tiny red head poked around a crate followed by a hand forming a rude gesture. Aria seemed to be having trouble believing him.

    ¡®Demons don¡¯t make deals like that.¡¯

    She let loose a frustrated sigh.

    ¡®You know what, fine, okay. Let¡¯s just move on. If you just got here, how are you already separated from you taskmaster?¡¯

    Mickie hummed, he felt like she wasn¡¯t getting his point on that.

    ¡®I¡¯m not with my task master because I never had one in the first place. When I said I just got here I didn¡¯t mean the palace, I was talking about Hell itself.¡¯

    Now Aria just looked befuddled. Mickie hurriedly continued.

    ¡®It would have been a few days back, at least I think it¡¯s been days. Anyway, I woke up in prison at the bottom of the palace, I think it was called the Evergaol. I¡¯ve been climbing up ever since.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    There was an extended moment in which the women did not reply. She simply stared at him in disbelief before straightening seriously.

    ¡®Show me the mark of your deal.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry?¡¯

    The demand immediately put Mickie on edge. It reminded him a bit too much of Mammon¡¯s forceful request out on the ice. Even if this time the words were not accompanied by some weird impulsion that made him obey.

    ¡®You have said a so many unbelievable things to me, that I am almost inclined to believe you. Everyone down here is usually more cunning with their lies.¡¯

    She gave him a hard look.

    ¡®But I need something substantive. Pacts tend to come with stipulations about revealing brands. If you can freely show me the brand, this whole deal story might have some truth to it.¡¯

    Mickie hesitated. He noted that nearby Miz-Mag was sulking with its back to him. If he revealed his brand, it would be his choice alone. Taking a deep breath, Mickie held out his right hand out for the woman to inspect. Aria took a step closer and examined the scar shaped into three animals chasing one another. Her eyes roved their shapes and came to rest on the strange character positioned at the top.

    ¡®Well?¡¯

    It had been long enough that Mickie began to grow impatient. Aria looked up from his, deflating.

    ¡®That¡¯s a brand alright. Between that and the gun I suppose it makes some of what you¡¯re saying believable.¡¯

    For some reason Mickie was almost disappointed in the reaction. When Mammon and the Mechanist both saw the three animals, they had completely freaked out.

    ¡®You don¡¯t recognize the mark?¡¯

    Aria chuckled.

    ¡®Nope, I know those of a few demons from memory, the big players mostly. Most big houses have a single baseline symbol with variations depending on the demon. This one doesn¡¯t match any I can recall.¡¯

    That was strange. From what Mickie had gathered so far, his symbol had something to do with a demon called the Soul Lord. Both Mammon and the Mechanist had mentioned the being. However, if each demon had a brand but some were similar depending on affiliation, did that mean Miz-Mag was related to this Soul Lord somehow? The conversation appeared to have garnered the attention of his companion, the diminutive fiend peering at them with a furrowed brow. Aria fished around in her pockets and withdrew the cigarette she had hidden away earlier. Then, to Mickie¡¯s surprise, she also revealed a metal lighter, sparking the blackened tip of the tobacco to life before taking a puff. He supposed if Hell had electrical lights and air conditioning it would have lighters too. Whatever had happened to the realm of fire and brimstone he had heard about while alive?

    ¡®Gave it up when I was alive you know.¡¯

    Aria had noticed his interest. She blew out a slow cloud and continued.

    ¡®But after a while down here I figured I¡¯m dead anyway, so there¡¯s no real point in holding back.¡¯

    Another puff followed.

    ¡®So, you remember dying right?¡¯

    Mickie grimaced.

    ¡®Sure do.¡¯

    ¡®And next thing you know you were in the Evergoal?¡¯

    He nodded; unsure what Aria was driving at.

    ¡®Simply put, that should not be possible.¡¯

    ¡®What? Why?¡¯

    ¡®Because everyone whp winds up down here arrives at the gates of Hell, up in Limbo. The demons scoop us up there.¡¯

    She took a gentle pull on the cigarette. Mickie frowned in confusion.

    ¡®So why did I end up all the way down the bottom?¡¯

    Aria barked out a laugh.

    ¡®How should I know. Honestly that¡¯s not even the craziest part. The fact you even managed to get up here intact is what I don¡¯t get.¡¯

    Mickie looked down at his ragged appearance. His body was coated in blood and machine oil, pants hardly more than a loincloth after the abuse they had received.

    ¡®I¡¯d hardly say intact. I wouldn¡¯t call the journey up exactly easy.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ll say, whose blood is that?¡¯

    ¡®All mine I think, only had to blast machines since I last washed.¡¯

    The women gaped slack jawed.

    ¡®All yours! How are you even conscious?¡¯

    ¡®Got some kind off demon power in the deal. Keeps me on my feet for the most part.¡¯

    Aria released an incredulous laugh, a genuine sounding deep belly rumble that made Mickie smile.

    ¡®Honestly, if I didn¡¯t have an idea what waited down in the lower palace, there is no way I would believe you. The Mechanist though.¡¯

    There was an extended moment of silence as the women paused to think.

    ¡®Wait, you mentioned machines. Does that mean you know what happened to the Mechanist? The bag of bolts went silent after the palace shook a while back. No more deliveries or anything. It¡¯s sending the imps up here into a frenzy.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s smile faltered. While he was glad the evil machine was gone, he did not like to recall their time together.

    ¡®I was what happened to the Mechanist. Well, me and the demon I made a deal with.¡¯

    It took quite some time for Aria to respond to that. She simply stood stock still, staring at him like he was an alien from another planet. Curious as to how his partner was taking the admission, Mickie looked about for Miz-Mag, but the demon was nowhere to be found.

    ¡®You? But how?¡¯

    ¡®Found some explosives, set them off right in the robot¡¯s main chamber.¡¯

    ¡®And the Mechanist?¡¯

    ¡®Dead as far as I can tell. All the robots went ballistic afterwards too.¡¯

    He paused.

    ¡®Except the beetles. They¡¯re still chill.¡¯

    Aria closed her eyes and took a huge pull from her cigarette, burning it right to her lips. Knowing he had probably dumped quite a bit on the woman, Mickie remained silent. The charred remnants of tobacco were plucked from between her lips and squashed against a crate. Aria breathed out one final cloud of smoke as she pocketed the stub.

    ¡®Alright. While most of this still sounds insane to me, I¡¯ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I just have one final question for you.¡¯

    ¡®Shoot.¡¯

    ¡®Why are you climbing up the palace? Surely it would have been easier just to find a place to hide.¡¯

    Mickie opened his mouth to explain about the deal but hesitated. While displaying the mark was one thing, elaborating on the terms of the deal felt far riskier. So, he went for a half-truth instead.

    ¡®I plan on leaving Hell. Heading back to the land of the living.¡¯

    Aria raised her eyebrows.

    ¡®Honestly, why am I not surprised?¡¯

    Without the context of the deal, he had thought the woman would scoff at the suggestion of escaping. Instead, she seemed thoughtful.

    ¡®How? The gates to hell are one way. They¡¯re not really gates as much as they are a drop of point for the newly dead.¡¯

    That brought a crease to Mickie¡¯s eyebrows. It was a thought he hadn¡¯t had up to this point. For some reason, he assumed if Miz-Mag wanted to leave Hell bad enough to make a deal, then it had to be possible to do so.

    ¡®Are you sure? Has anyone actually tried?¡¯

    Aria rolled her eyes.

    ¡®Of course they have. The gates to Hell don¡¯t open.¡¯

    With a thoughtful hum Mickie mulled over this. It would kind of suck to make it all the way to the top of Hell just to discover he there was no way out. Then he realised if he managed to make it that far it would probably be enough of a miracle that the gates might just pop right open to let him through.

    ¡®I¡¯ll figure it out when I get there.¡¯

    That got an amused noise from the older woman. For some reason that irritated Mickie.

    ¡®Look, I know my odds are slim. But what are the alternatives? I sit in a corner for all eternity and sulk? Or maybe I serve myself up to the demons and become a slave? No. Its all or nothing for me.¡¯

    The words felt right as Mickie spoke them. It had only been recently that his doubts had gotten the better of him. Out on the ice he had folded under the weight of his experiences and circumstance. Seeing the mine had filled him with new purpose, however. It was not only anger on behalf of the people reduced to a material for the demon¡¯s. No, he realised belatedly, it was that he didn¡¯t want to wind up like them, buried out in the cold once his usefulness was up. Even if Mickie failed to climb free, he would make sure the twisted denizens of this realm understood he had never submitted to despair.

    ¡®Well, not all of us can call a gun from thin air. Most of us sorry folk simply get peeled alive if we do anything but serve.¡¯

    It was an icy retort that broke Mickie from his introspection. Aria was giving him a cold look, eyebrows furrowed. Realising that what he had said probably sounded like a jab to the woman, Mickie hurried to apologise.

    ¡®Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean for it to be a dig or anything. I just.¡¯

    He sighed.

    ¡®I suppose I just have a chance here you know? With the gun and the deal. I need to make sure I take it.¡¯

    Aria gradually softened as he spoke.

    ¡®I get it. Its not like everyone down here doesn¡¯t dream of escape. I know I did.¡¯

    ¡®Did?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ve been down here for a while. Eventually they beat the hope right out of you.¡¯

    She deflated with a breath, the gave a light chuckle.

    ¡®Though I doubt you¡¯ll last long enough for that to be a problem.¡¯

    Mickie grinned.

    ¡®That¡¯s the general idea. Go big or go home.¡¯

    With her last question answered Aria seemed to think their time talking was up. She moved past Mickie, heading for the exit of the warehouse.

    ¡®Hey!¡¯

    He called after her.

    ¡®I get you finished your questions, but I still need to get some information about the area from you.¡¯

    The woman turned to him.

    ¡®And you will. I¡¯ll even do you one better and get you a disguise.¡¯

    She looked the suddenly tense Mickie over.

    ¡®You had better come with. We¡¯ll need to get that filth off you first.¡¯

    Then she continued walking, without even a backwards glance. Unsure what else to do, Mickie hurried to catch up.

    ¡®Hold on. We¡¯re just leaving? Didn¡¯t you have a job to do here?¡¯

    Aria threw him a grin.

    ¡®Good trick with demons. They don¡¯t expect a lot from humans so it¡¯s easy to slack off. I always take ages to do stock counts, so my task master has come to expect them to take a while.¡¯

    Looking at the stacks of crates Mickie thought the angry imp had been onto something when it had assigned multiple days of work.

    ¡®How does this all not take days?¡¯

    ¡®Another trick. One thing the Mechanist is good for. Well, I suppose was good for. The bag of bolts was always exact with volumes and numbers. Never even heard of a case where a delivery has been out.¡¯

    They reached the doors and Aria paused to finish speaking.

    ¡®So, for a dark steel warehouse like this there are always exactly forty eight ingots per box. We have nine rows nine boxes high and eighteen deep. Accounting for the 36 additional boxes on the end it¡¯s seventy-one thousand, seven-hundred and twelve ingots.¡¯

    The woman recited the maths as if from a script.

    ¡®Wow. Okay.¡¯

    Aria chuckled.

    ¡®I used to be a professor once upon a time. While crates are not as interesting as quantum particles, I do still enjoy the flow of numbers.¡¯

    She straightened up.

    ¡®Now. No more questions. We need to move.¡¯

    Mickie stood to attention as she continued.

    ¡®Outside is a service tunnel connecting to several warehouses. Not the busiest place, but there is usually some foot traffic. A way up the hall is an old secret passage that no one really uses. That is our goal. I¡¯ll check the coast is clear then we¡¯ll move.¡¯

    ¡®Alright. I¡¯m ready.¡¯

    A tense few moments past as Aria peeked into the hall before swiftly closing the door. She put a finger to her lips and waited. There was the faint sounds of footsteps from outside. Once the noise faded, the hall was checked again and deemed safe. Aria pushed the door wide and waved to Mickie, the pair stepping out into a large tunnel lit by fluorescence tubes. They set off at a run down the passage, the gore spattered young man following the middle-aged woman. Double doors like the one they had exited were spaced at regular intervals along unadorned walls. Above each door were metal plates, etched with numbers that climbed upwards as they covered more distance.

    Mickie idly realised that he had left Miz-Mag behind in the warehouse. It was not a big deal, the demon could always do its disappearing act and reappear at his side later. Then Mickie recalled the bomb he had hidden amongst the stacks and almost turned back around on the spot. How had he managed to forget that? Looking up at the frantic Aria he realised that his guide might not be willing to assist twice if he suddenly turned around and ran away. He gritted his teeth in frustration, breathing hard through the nose as they ran on. He would have go back for the device later, it should hopefully be straightforward if the disguise he had been promised held up.

    It was a surprise when Aria came to abrupt holt by an unassuming section of wall between two doors. Mickie almost slammed right into his guide, skidding past her as he came to a stop. The woman immediately started running here hand up a seam in the concrete panelling. Her fingers appeared to catch on something, and Aria pushed some kind of button. The panel clicked and was immediately pushed by the woman, swinging inwards to reveal a dark passage. Mickie followed her into the dark, reminded of the Mechanist¡¯s larger tunnels as he swung the concrete closed behind them.

    ¡®Alright. We can¡¯t stop yet. Keep your left hand to the wall and follow me.¡¯

    The request was a murmured whisper, hardly audible enough for Mickie to hear. Without light he could only blindly comply, and the pair moved into the dark. They proceeded through the cramped passage for some time. Pausing at various twists and turns only long enough for Mickie to receive directions. Eventually, Aria whispered for a halt, bringing them to a stop within the enveloping dark. A click sounded, and dim light spilt into the space, revealing the dusty passage in which he stood. Through an old metal door Aria had turned on a strange electrical lamp, one that looked like a smooth orb.

    ¡®Come on in.¡¯

    Mickie warily entered a cramped service room, crowded with pipes and odd pieces of junk. On the floor in one corner was some edge metal sheeting, like an oversized baking tray. Some rags hung from a metal frame beside a ratty looking chair. Odd contraptions of twisted components were stashed atop the pipework all about the place, like the trophies of a professional dumpster diver. The closet was clearly some kind of hideout or saferoom. Judging by the familiarity with which Aria navigated the strewn junk, he could guess who maintained it.

    ¡®I know it looks like a trash bin in here, never expected to have a visitor.¡¯

    She shifted aside some paper and pulled free a grimy bar of soap. With a frown Mickie watched the woman move to the oversized tray on the floor and motion him over.

    ¡®I keep the place for when some of the angrier big demons come by the palace. Those fuckers can be nasty to humans, and normally the taskmasters are too busy freaking out themselves to notice if I¡¯m around.¡¯

    With a grimace she continued.

    ¡®Anyway, I discovered one of these pipes runs water early on.¡¯

    As Mickie came to stand by Aria, he noticed one of the thick pipes had a handled tap crudely attached to it. He looked from the tap to the metal sheet sitting on the floor below. One corner of the sheet had a hole cut into it that revealed nothing but darkness.

    ¡®It¡¯s a shower.¡¯

    ¡®Sure is.¡¯

    Aria gave him a smile, though it looked almost pained.

    ¡®Best I could manage anyway. I¡¯m going to go get your disguise sorted, I¡¯ll probably be about half an hour or slightly longer. Get washed up while I¡¯m gone.¡¯

    The thought of this woman he hardly knew leaving him in a location only she could find immediately put Mickie on edge. If Aria wanted to bring back an army of fiends to swamp him, she probably could. There was a silent moment I which he squashed those thoughts.

    ¡®Yeah alright. See you in a bit.¡¯

    So far Aria had been nothing but helpful. By how tense she had been on the journey over here, it seemed like she was really sticking her neck out for him. While Mickie was unsure how he had earned this strange woman¡¯s goodwill, it would be cruel of him to repay it with suspicion. The smile he received before Aria ducked out the door, told him that she had known his thoughts and appreciated his trust.

    Alone in the cramped room, Mickie immediately stripped the ragged remnants of his pants away and stepped onto the metal basin. He found the handle of the tap difficult to turn, though once he had it open the flow of water was impressive. What followed were a few blissful minutes scrubbing himself clean. Mickie took a few slow mouthfuls of water, finding the liquid soothing to drink but not as quenching as he would have expected. It was curious, he had hardly consumed any food or liquids since arriving in Hell. Yet, despite this, he was not at all hungry or thirsty. Perhaps Miz-Mag or Aria would know something about it.

    Once clean, Mickie found himself unwilling to step out of the water immediately. Instead, he stood under the steady flow from the tap, listening to the drops thrum against the metal underfoot. He followed the liquid as it swirled about the basin before vanishing into the dark hole in the corner. It was a weird drain for sure, but compared to some of the things he had seen so far, not overly special. To sate an idle curiosity Mickie leant over the hole and listened, unable to hear the splashing of water below. Definitely weird. Finally done with the shower, Mickie turned off the tap and started wiping away the water on his skin. Aria had provided a pile of rags that he used with gusto, coming dry and clean for what felt like the first time in years. Without a fresh set of clothes Mickie was forced to slip back into his old raggedy shorts. They rubbed against his skin like sandpaper, and immediately transferred some of their mess to him.

    Sometime later there was a gentle tapping at the door and Aria slipped back inside holding a bundle of clothing. The older woman smiled when she saw Mickie clean.

    ¡®You actually look somewhat normal now.¡¯

    She handed him the bundle of clothes and turned away. It was the work of moments for Mickie to strip off his filthy pants and don the fresh garments. Soon he had a long sleeve shirt and pants on, the set very similar to what Aria currently wore, baring one big difference.

    ¡®Thanks for the fresh threads, though these don¡¯t have any pockets.¡¯

    Aria chuckled.

    ¡®Yeah, they don¡¯t come with them, I added mine personally with old fabric. One more thing.¡¯

    She revealed a pair of fingerless motorcycle gloves, tossing them to Mickie. He examined them, dark leather with navy accents, certainly not his style.

    ¡®I mean, thanks? It¡¯s just gloves aren¡¯t really my thing and they¡¯ll make me stand out.¡¯

    Aria rolled her eyes.

    ¡®Fool, they¡¯ll save your life. While they certainly might garner some attention it won¡¯t be nearly as much as that brand of yours. If one of the demons catches sight of that it¡¯ll be pandemonium.¡¯

    With a sigh Mickie pulled the gloves on, disliking the feel of the leather between his fingers. Across from him the eagle-eyed woman nodded approvingly.

    ¡®Good. I think they rather suit you. Now you look just like any of the workers about the upper castle.¡¯

    ¡®Are there really enough of you that I won¡¯t be noticed as the odd one out?¡¯

    ¡®Sure, there are plenty of us. There are also new people cycling through constantly, so new faces aren¡¯t a huge deal.¡¯

    The disguise seemed great, and while Mickie was grateful for the help, he needed to understand where all this goodwill came from.

    ¡®Thank you. Really. I might have bumbled right into the demons if you hadn¡¯t helped me.¡¯

    He smoothed out his shirt.

    ¡®I need to ask though. Why? This place doesn¡¯t seem real forgiving, you haven¡¯t mentioned it but this whole endeavour can¡¯t have been risk free for you.¡¯

    For what he thought was such an obvious question the inquiry seemed to have caught Aria off guard. She paused before releasing a long sigh, staring into the gently glowing lamp.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m honest. Maybe it¡¯s the fact you have hope. It reminds me of someone.¡¯

    Mickie did not ask who. He had enough memories of his own that he would rather stay buried. Aria looked up suddenly and met his eyes.

    ¡®Now. I believe you wanted some questions about the situation up here answered?¡¯

    ¡®I did. More about the way to the eighth circle, but yeah.¡¯

    ¡®Well then.

    She thought for a moment then gave a wicked grin.

    ¡®How about I do you one better?¡¯

    ¡®Oh?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ll show you the way up.¡¯

    <hr>

    The two Humans wound their way through the dark tunnels. With Mickie securely ensconced in his disguise, Aria was far more open about their presence than before. The older woman lead the way with another lamp held high, happily discussing the situation at the top of the palace. The Palace Lord, a demon named Rainzell, apparently hated the Mechanist and its machines. As such, everything in this region was operated by flesh and blood. A multitude of human slave workers tended to the needs of the palace, supervised by imp task masters that reported up their own chain of command. Mickie could vaguely recall Mammon mentioning Rainzell when they had spoken. The chained demon had seemed to think the big boss was dangerously cunning. The discussion on the palace lord made Mickie recall another denizen of Hell he had heard mention of a few times.

    ¡®So Rainzell is the boss of the Palace, or the bit up the top at least. What about the Sovereign then? I¡¯ve heard that demon mentioned a few times.¡¯

    There was a brief hitch in Aria¡¯s step at the mention of the Sovereign.

    ¡®The Sovereign huh? Yeah not surprising, it¡¯s the ruler of Hell. Though you¡¯re wrong about the sovereign being a demon.¡¯

    ¡®Not a demon? What else would it be?¡¯

    Mickie frowned. His companion hesitated only briefly before answering.

    ¡®An angel. A fallen angel. Never seen it myself, but apparently it looks just like one.¡¯

    That was surprising, though not hugely so, Mickie had heard of fallen angels before.

    ¡®And their name is Sovereign?¡¯

    Aria rolled her eyes.

    ¡®No, that¡¯s its title. The Sovereign¡¯s name is Mizaraphel.¡¯

    Not a name Mickie could recall hearing while alive, though certainly one he now committed to memory.

    ¡®So, if this Mizaraphel is the ruler of Hell then why isn¡¯t it in the palace?¡¯

    That caused Aria to stop in the middle of the passage, right at an intersection. The answer she gave was whispered, as if she didn¡¯t quite believe it herself.

    ¡®Because of the invasion.¡¯

    ¡®What invasion?¡¯

    ¡®The invasion of the living world. Mizaraphel has decided that Hell isn¡¯t enough. It¡¯s going to bring about the apocalypse. Gathering the forces of Hell as it rises towards Limbo, with a plan to break through the border between worlds en masse.¡¯

    Mickie stood frozen for a moment, processing that information. Suddenly it made sense why he had seen so few actual demons throughout the castle. If the Sovereign had gathered it forces, then that would mean those within the castle as well. They scale of it all, an invasion of the world above. It was too big to for him to really comprehend. There was nothing he could do about it. If anything, the Sovereign gathering its forces had assisted Mickie in his climb of the palace. He was uncertain if he could have dealt with an army of bloodthirsty demons on top of the Mechanist. And yet, if the Sovereign invaded the world of the living, then what would there be to climb towards? Even if he managed to escape Hell, what was the point if the world above was more of the same? Mickie pushed the thoughts away, that line of thinking would help him. There was nothing he could do about the Sovereign and its forces. He shook his head and turned to Aria.

    ¡®Alright, sorry. That was a bit of a bombshell.¡¯

    The older woman chuckled.

    ¡®I bet it was. You ready to keep moving?¡¯

    He responded with a nod.

    ¡®Good, because we¡¯re just out of the passage and we can¡¯t chat in the open. From here on out we are docile slaves, you got it?¡¯

    With a deep breath Mickie nodded once more.

    ¡®Yep. Head lowered and mouth shut.¡¯

    After another short walk the duo arrived at a dead end. With quick motions, Aria found another hidden switch and the wall popped open to reveal a service closet. Once inside the woman directed Mickie towards a collection of mops and buckets.

    ¡®Best way to take your time and get a look is to clean. We¡¯ll mop one of the halls leading to the lobby.¡¯

    Buckets topped with suds they stepped through the door and into the hall beyond, revealing an opulent passage of shiny marble floors and walls rich in colour and tapestries. As interesting as the surrounds were, Mickie kept his eyes to the floor while they moved towards the target passage. Flowing about him was a continual stream of imps, rushing along with cloven hooves tapping on pristine tiles. They never gave him more than a second glance, and yet Mickie was sure one would catch him out at any moment.

    Up ahead Aria had come to a stop, standing at the intersection between halls. The number of imps has slowly dwindled as they progressed, and in the hall ahead he could see none bustling about. The older woman moved to one side of the hall and wrung out her mop. As she started to wipe the floor in practiced motions, she waved a hand in the direction of the opposing wall. Mickie got the message and started cleaning alongside her. They slowly worked their way up the length of the hall, stepping backwards with every swish of the mop. Soon, he noticed the walls opening up behind him, the passage reaching an open room. Briefly Mickie wondered if Aria¡¯s plan was to have them mop the entire lobby. He was not keen to spend hours working, though maybe it would provide him with a chance to slip up the stairs. The thought of simply sneaking out of the Palace now was tempting. Aria turned about at the end of the passage, moving closer to the centre of the hall and cleaning back the way they had come. Slightly disappointed they weren¡¯t going beyond the passage, Mickie still moved to mirror her. It was then he finally got a good look at the staircase to the next circle.

    It was huge, sitting in the middle of a beautiful circular chamber, emerging from the domed ceiling far above in a twisting spiral. According to Aria, these stairs would take him straight to a huge city that occupied the eighth circle. And they were just, there. The room was as empty as the passage they were cleaning, not a demon in sight. What was to stop him just walking up to the giant spiral and leaving this terrible castle behind. Without even realising it Mickie had set his mop against the wall. He approached the staircases chamber with slow steps, pausing on the threshold. It couldn¡¯t be this easy. Surely some of the other humans must have tried to flee at some point, yet Aria seemed got up those stairs intact. But, there was no one to see him, the hall was desolate. It had to be worth the risk. Miz-Mag¡¯s face when it awoke to find them on the next circle would be priceless.

    There was a distant sound, growing louder as it approached the hall. The sounds of a squeaking voice accompanied by heavy footsteps. A lot of heavy footsteps. Aria was suddenly by his side, face white as a sheet and trembling like a cat in the cold. His guide did not speak, tugging at his shirt with frantic urgency as the sounds grew louder and Mickie could make out the voice of an imp.

    ¡®¡­no news of the Mechanist, Lord. We have dispatched scouts to its lair to ascertain the condition of the machine.¡¯

    Mickie understood then why Aria was so frantic. The imp had said Lord. It was time to go. He collected his bucket and mop as a new voice sounded, deep and resonant as if booming through a cavern.

    ¡®And the Kindle Kin?¡¯

    ¡®Still at large Lord. We are having difficulty uncovering the reason behind their rebellion. It is unheard of.¡¯

    ¡®The Conductor is secured?¡¯

    ¡®Entirely Lord. A full brigade has been stationed outside its chamber.¡¯

    The two humans started an expeditious retreat back the way they had come. Mickie glanced over his shoulder to the distant staircase as they fled, only to catch a small red figure emerge into the chamber. It was the imp he had heard talking. Something else followed the little demon, something large, with a monstrous body that trailed behind it. The Palace Lord. Judging by Aria¡¯s reaction to it, they did not want to capture this being¡¯s attention. Mickie turned away and hurried to follow Aria down a side passage. And yet, as he moved around the bend, he felt something. The feeling of being watched, magnified beyond reason. In the few steps it took Mickie to escape from sight he felt as if he was on an operating table, guts splayed open as something poked at his inside. Then he rounded the corner, and the feeling was gone. As Mickie pursued Aria he heard the deep voice, a distant rumble that caused his stomach to churn.

    ¡®It is apparent to me, that we have a rat in these walls.¡¯

 7 â€“ One Angry Rat

    The two humans fled through the opulent halls, cleaning implements in hand. At any moment Mickie expected to feel a gaze upon his back, peeling him apart like string cheese. Just ahead of him, Aria was moving with silent purpose, head down to avoid the ire of any imps they passed. From behind came a rising commotion, shouts and the clatter of running feet upon tiles.

    ¡®¡­stupid fool dead ahead¡­¡¯

    ¡®¡­late for my¡­¡¯

    ¡®¡­don¡¯t care, just get them¡­¡¯

    The shrill voices echoed up the hall, causing some of the demonic passerby¡¯s to pause and listen. Aria reacted instantly to the sounds of pursuit, turning towards a nearby door and ushering him through. Following along behind, Mickie found himself within a space that appeared to be an opulent conference room. Sitting about a long, rectangular table were four imps, all turning from a projected display to peer at them. Beside him Aria had stiffened, clearly having hoped the room was going to be vacant.

    ¡®Humans. Why are you intruding on our discussion?¡¯

    Standing beside the projected display was an angry looking imp, glaring at them from across the table. When Aria failed to answer, Mickie decided it was time to step up. He slowly moved forward; head bowed.

    ¡®Apologies. Our task master informed us of a serious mess within this room.¡¯

    An Imp sitting at the table glanced in an exaggerated manner.

    ¡®I fail to see any worthy mess human. You are interrupting an important meeting of Palace security. There will be consequences for this.¡¯

    From outside there was a growing clamour as the chase grew closer. While Mickie could hope that no demons outside had noted their direction, he was not willing to bet on it. With steady steps he approached the front of the room.

    ¡®Our task master informed us the mess had been concealed. If I might simply confirm its existence and deal with any cleanup?¡¯

    Somehow, the intense red on the presenting Imp¡¯s face was taking on an even brighter hue.

    ¡®No Human! We have informed you that there is no mess. You will vacate this room and report to the punishment suite!¡¯

    Mickie had made it to the front of the room and was standing by the group of demons in a submissive slouch. Over by the door Aria was alternating horrified looks between him and the imps. Occasionally she would turn nervously towards the growing racket outside.

    ¡®Aria, get the door please.¡¯

    He locked eyes with the older woman.

    ¡®I think a chair would be an effective measure.¡¯

    Hopefully his companion would catch the intention behind the request. Judging by the ranting imp leader, the room¡¯s other occupants had certainly had not.

    ¡®Impudent mortal. You dare to speak past your betters within their presence. You dare insult me. I will have to personally deliver your punishment. Come forward.¡¯

    The small creature was fuming and screeching in rage, like a child throwing a tantrum in public. Mickie glance towards the door and found Aria wedging a chair beneath the handle. He also noticed one of the imps at the table frowning in her direction. A shame, he had hoped that the fiends would keep their focus on him. At the very least the leader seemed intent on him alone.

    ¡®Yes. Kneel before me. You fail to see a tidy room. If your eyes are that useless then I will take one from you.¡¯

    Mickie summoned his gun and shot the imp that had taken an interest in Aria¡¯s actions. The demon¡¯s head and shoulders vanished in a spray of gore, taking the top of its chair as well. Without giving the room¡¯s occupants time to act, he threw the gun at another imp sitting by the table. While not fatal, the weapon was a bulky lump of metal, drawing a pained wail is it connected with the fiend¡¯s head. Standing before him the leader of the meeting gawped in surprise.

    ¡®H-human what¡­¡¯

    The exclamation was cut off as Mickie drove his mop handle into the creature¡¯s head, warping the steel shaft with the blow¡¯s force. The imp staggered and fell to the floor, where Mickie proceeded to wail on it with his increasingly damaged mop. A sudden heat blossomed in his side, causing him to lay off the head honcho. The final imp at the table had come to its senses and was attempting to end his rampage. Its eyes blazed with fury when they met his, hand still embedded in Mickie¡¯s side. He reached for the creature, and it attempted to duck away. With the strange reflexes born of his deal with Miz-Mag, Mickie caught the fiend by the wrist and hauled it to him. He slammed its head into the table, a sickening crack reverberating through the room. As the limp imp slid from his grasp Mickie turned toward his final opponent. Rather than attempting to fight, the final red figure was staggering towards the door, clutching its head. Summoning his freshly reloaded gun, Mickie aimed at the fiend. Excepted Aria was just beyond it, standing by the door.

    ¡®Move!¡¯

    Instead of darting aside the woman rushed the groggy imp. She grasped hold of a chair in passing and hauled the heavy furniture back for a swing. The final fiend did not even see the incoming object, too busy glancing back at Mickie in fear. With a resounding thud it crumpled and lay twitching on the floor, dazed. For a moment the two humans locked eyes, breathing ragged in the quiet. Then there was a thud against the door. And another. It appeared their fight had not gone unnoticed.

    ¡®Aria, we need to leave now. You have a way out of this room?¡¯

    The older woman looked up at him, appearing calmer than he felt.

    ¡®Yes, but we can¡¯t leave yet.¡¯

    Another creaking thud echoed into the room.

    ¡®What do you mean we can¡¯t leave? The whole palace is about to burst in here!¡¯

    She looked down at the recovering imp coldly.

    ¡®They saw our faces.¡¯

    That brought Mickie up short. After the warmth with which he had been treated, this abrupt shift in the woman was disconcerting. She had spent years working in the palace, and he was now realising that took more than knowledge and a hole to hide in. Looking at the remaining fiends a familiar hollow filled Mickie¡¯s chest. The fire inside that drove him to fight was gone, yet the job was not finished.

    ¡®Alright. You get the way out ready. I¡¯ll handle them.¡¯

    Aria looked him over and gave a firm nod before moving away. On the floor before him the imp attempted to rise, arms shaking underneath it. Mickie pointed his gun at the creature and fired. What remained lay still. The crashing against the door was growing more frantic, though it appeared the chair still held firm. Next up was the fiend he had slammed into the table. It had not moved from its spot on the floor, but Mickie needed to be sure. His gun rotated barrels and he fired. Finally, he stood before the beaten leader of the group. Waiting for his gun to reload, Mickie found his attention drawn to the projected display. The presentation they had interrupted involved several still images, displaying grainy scenes of different environments. Focussing on what appeared to be a large cold storage, his eyes caught on a familiar figure.

    ¡®Alright. Get that last one. It¡¯s time to go.¡¯

    Over by a wall, Aria had somehow shifted a tile to open a hole in the floor. Frantically Mickie scanned the other pictures on display. A set of lavish suites, an indoor garden of blackened, sinister plants, even an oversized pool filled with a murky purple liquid. All had similar figures in them. Making a split decision Mickie grabbed the remaining imp by the arm and dragged it over to their escape passage.

    ¡®What are you doing? Finish it off.¡¯

    His companion seemed more irritated than urgent, even as the door to the room started to give.

    ¡®I want this one. I have some questions for it.¡¯

    The woman did not push further than that, simply nodding before waving him towards the hole. Mickie dropped his new captive into the dark before following. There were handholds carved into the stone wall, and he swiftly descended, moving aside with the imp to make space. As Aria followed behind there was a grinding sound from above and the light of the conference room vanished. Soon the gentle glow of a circular lamp filled the space, held aloft by his companion. They wasted no time before setting off into the darkness, moving swiftly under the lamp¡¯s glow. Sometime later Aria waved a stop in the middle of passage. She swiftly popped open a section of the wall and peered outside.

    ¡®Alright, its clear. Move fast.¡¯

    The duo burst into a hall, a service passage similar to the first Mickie had seen. They sprinted up the passage, Aria counting room numbers under her breath until they reached four hundred and four. Mickie followed her inside to find some kind of boiler room, packed with noisy pipes and large, pressurised vessels. It took time to navigate the maze of steel, the heat of the room not impacting Mickie, but making Aria sweat profusely. She stopped by a large vessel of dark steel, unbolting a panel on the side to reveal yet another secret passage.

    ¡®You sure know about a lot of these tunnels.¡¯

    All he got was a motion for silence before Aria ducked into the dark. Following behind, Mickie pulled the door shut firmly, feeling the latch on the outside click into place. His guide seemed less hurried than before, catching her breath as they wound their way through the dark.

    ¡®Holy shit. I can¡¯t believe it. I can¡¯t believe what just happened.¡¯

    The statement broke the silent air abruptly, causing Mickie to jump.

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    The older woman let out a raspy chuckle.

    ¡®We just got caught off duty by the Palace Lord, then escaped any retribution, that¡¯s what.¡¯

    She cast a look at him over her shoulder as they walked.

    ¡®That gun of yours is insane. Usually taking down an imp takes a hell of a lot of planning. Those buggers are tough.¡¯

    There was another chuckle and she looked to the demon slung over his shoulder.

    ¡®Yet you beat the shit out of them.¡¯

    Mickie rubbed at the spot on his side one of the imps had cut. It had stopped bleeding during their flight and the flesh was slowly closing about the wound.

    ¡®Yeah, we either went through them or had the whole horde chasing us. Why was the big guy catching us such a big deal? Also, I think it might have seen me, got a weird feeling when we started to run away.¡¯

    ¡®The Palace Lord is weird; it always seems to know things when it shouldn¡¯t. That feeling you got was definitely from it. The demon has some kind of super eye, feels like it can somehow see your thoughts when it looks at you. People who get caught out by the Palace Lord tend to be pushed into an early retirement.¡¯

    Aria sighed.

    ¡®Shame it saw you. It¡¯ll be able to recognize on sight now, even if it was only a brief glance. Only if it sees you with the eye though, so, you know, don¡¯t get seen.¡¯

    The pair reached an intersection and took a left.

    ¡®If it¡¯s that risky, why did you take me to the staircase?¡¯

    ¡®Honestly, because the chances of running into the big guy are so low it¡¯s next to impossible. I have no idea why it was hanging about the lobby like that. Normally that room is jammed full of demons, I¡¯ve never seen it so empty before.¡¯

    Mickie had an idea why, though he would need to interrogate the imp to confirm it. The pair fell into silence as their journey progressed, keeping their ears open for the sounds of pursuit. Eventually, after a boggling number of twists and turns, Aria¡¯s lamp illuminated a familiar door set into the wall. The cramped maintenance cupboard released a knot of tension that had been gripping Mickie behind the neck. He set the unconscious imp down in the ratty chair and turned to the older woman as she lit a second lamp within the space.

    ¡®Now we just wait for this guy to wake up.¡¯

    Aria nestled the newly glowing light back amongst the pipework.

    ¡®You¡¯re going to wait for him. I¡¯ve got to run back to the warehouse.¡¯

    ¡®The one we met at? Why?¡¯

    The woman sighed and kneaded a stiff shoulder.

    ¡®You might have been seen by the Palace Lord, but they also know there was another human involved. I¡¯m certain there will be spot checks to snag anyone not at their stations. I don¡¯t want the demons tearing apart the tunnels to find me.¡¯

    Mickie winced.

    ¡®Yeah, that would make sneaking about difficult. Alright, I¡¯ll let you in on what I¡¯ve found when you get back.¡¯

    That got a chuckle.

    ¡®I¡¯ve been curious what you wanted little red over there for. I hope it¡¯s worth the effort of getting him in here.¡¯

    With that, Aria ducked back out of the room to go and enact her alibi. Left alone, Mickie turned back to the imp.

    ¡®Now how about I wake you up¡¯.

    <hr>

    As it turned out, Mickie had done far more damage than he initially thought to the fiend. He tried vigorously shaking it, slapping its face, even splashing it with water. However, nothing seemed capable of breaking the imp from its relentless snoring. With little else to do, Mickie simply contemplated the creature, waiting for it to rouse.

    ¡®Well dear boy, haven¡¯t you been busy.¡¯

    A high pitch voice came from atop one of the pipes, and Mickie turned to find Miz-Mag sitting cross legged.

    ¡®Decided you¡¯re done sulking then?¡¯

    The diminutive demon sniffed.

    ¡®If you ever actually listened to me, we would already be in the eighth circle. I¡¯m sure of it.¡¯

    ¡®Uh huh, sure.¡¯

    Honestly, Mickie had no idea if the demon was right. It had originally had a plan of where they needed to head, even if its directions had been terrible. Perhaps they would have slipped up through the entire palace if he had not bumbled into Administration. Not that Mickie would admit it out loud.

    ¡®Well, you are lucky I am so magnanimous my boy. At least you ditched that human before it could sell us out.¡¯

    That made him frown.

    ¡®You mean Aria? I didn¡¯t ditch her, she¡¯s just out right now. This is her safehouse.¡¯

    Miz-Mag chocked.

    ¡®Are you an idiot kid? You let her go out alone!¡¯

    The demon leapt to its feet.

    ¡®We need to run, she¡¯ll bring down the whole palace on our heads!¡¯

    ¡®What are you on about?¡¯

    ¡®Kid you can¡¯t trust the other humans in the palace, they¡¯re all sheep. They¡¯ll sell you out for a pat on the head.¡¯

    No. That couldn¡¯t be right. Aria had been good to him. He had no idea where the tiny fiend had gotten its opinions on the palace humans from.

    ¡®Mag, we literally just killed some imps and kidnapped this one. The whole time she could have sold me out.¡¯

    Miz-Mag grumbled, still looking unconvinced.

    ¡®Also, we ran into the Palace Lord, that guy was freaky.¡¯

    ¡®The Palace Lord!¡¯

    The sound his companion produced was of such a high pitch that Mickie could hardly hear it. Apparently Miz-Mag had both heard of the big boss, and was absolutely terrified of it.

    ¡®By the blood kid. Please tell me it didn¡¯t see you.¡¯

    Seconds past silently as he attempted to word his answer.

    ¡®Well, it uh. It might have caught a glimpse of me.¡¯

    The fiend let lose a moan and collapsed dramatically onto the pipe.

    ¡®Of all the things. It¡¯s going to know!¡¯

    ¡®Know what?¡¯

    ¡®Know it¡¯s me kid!¡¯

    His companion shot to its feet and started pacing.

    ¡®No matter what I do to get past it, that monster sniffs me out. It¡¯s like they put it there on purpose to stop me!¡¯

    ¡®Relax, will you.¡¯

    Mickie attempted to calm the irate demon down.

    ¡®What are you talking about?¡¯

    ¡®Tell me to calm down. Ungrateful twerp.¡¯

    After a few more choice curses Miz-Mag gave an exaggerated sigh and seemed to regain control of itself.

    ¡®The Palace Lord can see me. With that stupid eye it has. Only thing other than you I¡¯ve discovered that can.¡¯

    That surprised him, Mickie knew his partner was sneaky, but for only two people to be able to see it. There was something else that had been insinuated with the demon¡¯s response.

    ¡®Wait. Can you not control if people can see you? I thought you did it on purpose?¡¯

    The tiny red face shifted through several emotions at the question; annoyance, hesitancy and finally resignation.

    ¡®Sadly not, kid. Don¡¯t even know why nothing can see me. Just spawned this way I suppose.¡¯

    That only railroaded Mickie into another question.

    ¡®How can I see you then? I mean, I get the Place Lord, he¡¯s built for it. But I was the same as every other mortal in Hell.¡¯

    Miz-Mag shrugged.

    ¡®Honestly don¡¯t know why. I knew you could though. Same as I knew you were good for the deal.¡¯

    As Mickie opened his mouth to ask how, the demon cut him off.

    ¡®Don¡¯t bother asking. It¡¯s a demon thing, you wouldn¡¯t understand. Anyway, you buddy over yonder is waking up.¡¯

    Following the little fiend¡¯s gesture, he discovered that their hostage was finally coming awake. The imp groaned groggily, eyelids fluttering open so it could peer out in a daze.

    ¡®Ifs littler than. Than I ought to be¡­¡¯

    Incomprehensible slurring was all the demon could manage for some time. Consciousness ebbed and flowed until, finally, hazy eyes cleared enough to note Mickie¡¯s presence.

    ¡®W-what mortal? What are you? What am I doing in?¡¯

    Then realisation clicked in the behind the creature¡¯s eyes, and it froze. There was a moment in which the imp looked at him in terror before it attempted to bolt. It hardly made it out of the chair before collapsing in a boneless heap.

    ¡®Dumbass. You just woke from a beating; you aren¡¯t going anywhere.¡¯

    Mickie wandered over and hauled the small fiend back into place on the chair.

    ¡®That means you have to stick around for a chat.¡¯

    ¡®M-m-mortal you will release me and report to the punishment department immediately.¡¯

    That order might have been coloured with fear, yet it still held the gravity of expected obedience. The absurdity of it made Mickie laugh.

    ¡®You¡¯re delusional bud.¡¯

    His humour seemed to startle the Imp slightly, as if it was not accustomed to the sound. Immediately the creature followed its fear with anger.

    ¡®YOU! Do you have any idea what awaits you! We¡¯ll peel the skin from your body, eat the flesh from your bones while you watch!¡¯

    Mickie backhanded the ranting creature in the face. He had always hated interrogations like this when alive. Yet it seemed like the skills he most detested in life were the very ones most useful to him in death.

    ¡®Keep talking that way, and I¡¯ll pull out your tongue. Get me?¡¯

    All he got in return was an angry look. At least it had shut up.

    ¡®Now I happened to catch the little slideshow you had on in the conference room earlier. It seems to me that you demons are having some trouble with a rebellion. Imagine my surprise when I saw images of the critters from Administration running amok throughout the palace.¡¯

    The Imp did not respond, glaring at him in defiance. Miz-Mag, however, gave a delighted laugh from its perch on the pipe. There was a light pressure on his shoulder as the tiny fiend took its perch.

    ¡®Oh, dear me. What news indeed. It would appear our wayward workers have grown fond of their freedom. Perhaps the untimely demise of a certain mechanical master has let them free for longer than expected.¡¯

    That was Mickie¡¯s current hypothesis as well. He could recall the Mechanist mentioning the need to subdue the robotic hybrids. It appeared the old bag of bolts had not been successful before biting the dust. Even if Mickie knew of the admin workers and their freedom, he needed to know the extent of their uprising.

    ¡®So, I¡¯m guessing that, with the Mechanist gone, you guys up top have no way to control the rebelling grey guys?¡¯

    His captive gave nothing away. Fine then, perhaps it would respond to provocation.

    ¡®I mean, I can¡¯t say I expected much from you flesh bags up top. But you can¡¯t even control your own slaves.¡¯

    A sad shake of his head punctuated the statement.

    ¡®Useless without the machine to hand feed you. Honestly, before I died, I thought demons were scary. Looking at you lot though. Well, I¡¯m surprised us mortals aren¡¯t already running the place.¡¯

    That seemed to do the trick, the little Imp failed to hold back a screech of fury. It attempted to rise once more, and being unable to do so, resorted to screaming at him.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡®You stinking blood bag. You know nothing of your betters. Those disgusting Kindle Kin hybrids are the only reason those wrinkly fuckers are still heaving air. But we¡¯ll take them though. They won¡¯t get past us. We have barricades in place to stop them.¡¯

    The groggy Imp released a mad cackle.

    ¡®Once the Mechanist reconstitutes, they¡¯ll be done for. Back to Admin where they belong. But you, you filthy wretch. We¡¯re going to¡­¡¯

    Mickie zoned out the tirade as something the demon said caught his attention. The Mechanist reconstituting? That couldn¡¯t mean what he thought it did. He grasped the Imp by its pointy chin to shut it up.

    ¡®The Mechanist. I blew that shitter into the abyss.¡¯

    With a shove he pushed the demon back in its chair. Miz-Mag seemed to be miffed at his wording.

    ¡®You did? Damn kid, taking credit.¡¯

    Mickie ignored his companion.

    ¡®It¡¯s dead.¡¯

    Across from them the woozy demon took a moment to orient itself before laughing sadistically.

    ¡®You? Did that to the Mechanist? Don¡¯t kid yourself mortal. The Mechanist has no weakness. Unless you blow the whole castle, you can¡¯t kill it. Only a matter of time before the beasty pieces itself back together again.¡¯

    It couldn¡¯t be possible. Could it? Even though they had blown the robot to smithereens the intelligence driving it lived on. And it would return. That was bad. Mickie had no doubt that when the Mechanist came back online it would be out for blood. They needed to get out of the castle before that happened. Luckily, Mickie had an idea on how to get a clear run at the stairs.

    ¡®These Kindle Kin, the grey guys, how long until they reach the upper floors?¡¯

    Unfortunately for him the Imp had regained control of itself and returned to glaring at him in silence. Mickie wanted to curse. Now he knew time was of the essence, they couldn¡¯t afford to wait upon a drawn-out interrogation. He rubbed the scruff sprouting from his jaw with a palm, fingerless glove catching on the sharper stubble. Then Mickie paused. That might work. Immediately he pulled the dark leather from his right hand, revealing the ridged flesh of his brand. He presented the mark to the imp, staring into the creature¡¯s eyes as they widened.

    ¡®You recognize this?¡¯

    ¡®N-no. I can¡¯t be. Mark of the traitor? But how?¡¯

    Bingo.

    ¡®Don¡¯t you worry your wrinkly little scalp about how. You know what this mark means, don¡¯t you?¡¯

    The anger was draining from the Imp at a visible rate. He had counted on some reaction, but this was like he had just made the critter look at the abyss beneath the palace. Who was this Soul Lord, that just its mark got such visceral reactions from demons?

    ¡®No. You can¡¯t. Not me.¡¯

    Its voice was softer than Mickie would expect possible from a denizen of Hell, wobbly with fear.

    ¡®I can and I will. Unless you tell me. How long until the Kindle Kin get here?¡¯

    His captive was on the breaking point, Mickie could see it in the clench of its jaw, the tremble at the corner of its mouth. Just a bit more.

    ¡®Still not going to answer? Fine. I guess I¡¯ll have to call on my friend for help.¡¯

    Mickie bumped Miz-Mag with the side of his head as he spoke, nodding subtly towards the imp. Without a sound his companion leapt to the trembling demon¡¯s shoulder, alighting upon it without notice. The tiny fiend gave him a wicked grin and mimed stabbing at the prisoner¡¯s neck. He raised his branded hand, fingers splayed.

    ¡®Perhaps an example is in order.¡¯

    As he clenched his fist in the air Miz-Mag jabbed hard into the creature¡¯s neck. The pain of his diminutive partner¡¯s strike could not have been that great, yet the imp moaned as if they had taken its arm.

    ¡®Tell me, or it¡¯ll be your soul.¡¯

    That did it. Sagging into its chair, the imp gasped a sob.

    ¡®The Kindle Kin will be here soon. A few hours at most.¡¯

    Mickie frowned. That was not a whole lot of time.

    ¡®And you have set up blockades and the like? Choke points to hold them at bay.¡¯

    The dejected prisoner nodded.

    ¡®Yes, block some of the tunnels. Defend the others.¡¯

    He could guess at the tactic, restrict the possible routes, and funnel the enemy into established choke points.

    ¡®Why not just block every passage?¡¯

    That was met with a sneer and a flare of temper.

    ¡®Who knows where the shitters would break through if we did that. Better to let the bumbling idiots wander into the meat grinder.¡¯

    Mickie clenched his fist and Miz-Mag jabbed the demon again, cutting the budding anger short.

    ¡®Alright then. You¡¯re going to tell me where these blockades are.¡¯

    <hr>

    It was with a hollow feeling that Mickie stood before the unconscious imp. The creature had grown progressively more fearful throughout the questioning. By the end it hardly reacted when Mickie summoned his gun and cracked it in the side of the head with the bulky barrel. Like a puppet with its strings cut their prisoner crumpled boneless to the floor. In truth he didn¡¯t want to deal with the demon. If he could just walk away and leave it locked up in the room, he would. But it was too risky. For his plan to work they needed surprise on their side. Something the imp before them could take away if it got free.

    ¡®You know, I thought I was done with this shit once.¡¯

    Mickie moved over to the metal basin of the shower and heaved it upright, leaning the old metal against a wall.

    ¡®As it turns out.¡¯

    He grunted as he picked up the imp.

    ¡®It¡¯s easy to fall back into old habits.¡¯

    Exposed by the lifted showering basin was a broad hole in the floor, a foot and a half in diameter. The drain was far larger without its covering, leaving plenty of space for him to lower the imp over the side. With a sigh he let go, and the prisoner vanished into darkness. As he straightened Mickie remembered words spoken long ago, ones that whispered within his mind with a clarity uncommon for memories.

    You think you can walk from this Mik? You don¡¯t walk from the family. You were born for this life, and you¡¯ll die living it.

    His sister had always been too smart for her own good, for anyone¡¯s good really. A delighted chuckle drew Mickie from his reverie. At the very least Miz-Mag seemed pleased with their interrogation.

    ¡®Ah, my friend. What fun we have, hey?¡¯

    When he didn¡¯t respond the demon continued, unperturbed.

    ¡®Did you see the look on its face? The buffoon really thought you were poking at its soul or something.¡¯

    The fiend gave another cackle as he lowered the shower basin back into place.

    ¡®Honestly, it¡¯s just a jab in the neck. What an idiot.¡¯

    Mickie closed his eyes and took a slow breath. Time was of the essence. He needed to focus.

    ¡®Alright, you heard the imp. There are almost twenty choke points being held around the palace. We need to get to the nearest one and shut it down. You good to guide?¡¯

    Miz-Mag grinned evilly.

    ¡®Dear boy. With you asking so nicely I would be glad to help. Let us go and wreak havoc upon the masses, hmm?¡¯

    All he gave in return was a nod, and the little miscreant leapt upon his shoulder. The room dimmed behind them as Mickie grabbed hold of the remaining lamp and moved to the door. He gave one last goodbye to the cramped space before sliding the metal door shut with a creak.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Aria.¡¯

    In the end she had not returned from warehouse. They had spent quite some time in the hideout, waiting for the imp to awaken and then grilling it for answers. Apparently, it was not enough time for her however. Mickie hoped his fellow human was safe, that she could make it back to her lonely little den before he kicked the hornet¡¯s nest. They could not afford to wait any longer however, he needed to act before the Mechanist returned for his head. Without another word, Mickie set off into the dark tunnels.

    He and Miz-Mag roamed in direction the little fiend seemed to believe would lead to an exit. While clearly not as knowledgeable of their surrounds as Aria had been, Mickie¡¯s companion claimed to have wandered the upper reaches of the palace a fair bit. Not as much as the lower levels due to its fear of the Palace Lord, but enough to know the layout. Apparently, the imps had set up their choke points in small clusters. The idea was that if the Kindle Kin concentrated on any staircase, others in the cluster could reinforce it. But to attack multiple clusters they would have to split their forces, hopefully wasting more time.

    Mickie was rather curious how the little grey workers he had seen were fighting. Their stumpy bodies were not exactly built for combat. Perhaps it was just the hybrid machines then, those things were built to kick the ass their kin could not reach. There was also the name, Kindle Kin. A strange name for an entire race, but he had heard it from the prisoner and the Palace Lord.

    ¡®Kid, slowdown! I think I spotted an exit.¡¯

    While the duo had been rushing through the secret tunnels, they had not been going at a breakneck pace. Mickie swiftly stumbled to a halt and glanced about for whatever had caught Miz-Mag¡¯s attention.

    ¡®Back a bit. There was a hole in the wall that looked perfect for a lever.¡¯

    Moving slowly back the way they had come, it did not take the pair long to find the hole again. Holding the light up to it, Mickie discovered there was indeed a lever hidden within the rock. He reached out a hand and took hold of the dark metal, giving it a firm pull. A bolt thudded free within a nearby wall, then a sliver of light fell upon them as a secret door creaked open.

    ¡®Ah, truly, you would be lost without me dear boy.¡¯

    Mickie just rolled his eyes and pushed open the exit. The duo found themselves within some form of industrial kitchen, bare walls and shining countertops covered in foodstuffs. Humans filled the space, working in industrious silence at an array of preparatory tasks. They hardly more than glanced at Mickie as he entered, remaining intent on their work. Other than Aria, he had yet to see any humans working throughout the upper palace, even if the older woman had guaranteed they were everywhere. So it was with a cautious optimism that he approached the nearest worker, a younger man dicing meat into cubes.

    ¡®Hey uh, how¡¯s it going?¡¯

    For his effort Mickie received an annoyed glare before the man promptly went back to ignoring him.

    ¡®Kid we don¡¯t have time to chin wag with every idiot we pass.¡¯

    The demon on his shoulder seemed eager to get underway. However, he was not yet ready to leave.

    ¡®Hey buddy, I just wanted to talk. Surely you can manage that much.¡¯

    The steady rhythm of the man¡¯s knife stopped as he placed it on the chopping board. He did not even turn to face Mickie before speaking in a low voice.

    ¡®The Hell is there to talk about? You should know how on edge the imps are. If they catch us talking it¡¯ll be both our hides.¡¯

    His voice was tinged with fear. The steady sound of chopping filled the air once more as he got back to work.

    ¡®So please, get back to your station or whatever your taskmaster had you doing.¡¯

    Mickie opened his mouth to respond when a shrill voice filled the silent kitchen.

    ¡®You! Mortal! What are you doing just standing there? How dare you take an unsanctioned break.¡¯

    At the other end of the kitchen an imp had rounded a corner and spotted Mickie. It stomped towards him with a head full of steam.

    ¡®And you! I told you to cut, not to chat. It appears punishment is in order.¡¯

    The imp closed to within a few meters of them. While Mickie was unsure what the creature intended, he figured it was best to not waste any more time. With burst of heat from his brand Mickie had his gun at the ready. Dark gemstone eyes glinted out into the suddenly startled face of the imp.

    ¡®You¡­¡¯

    Mickie fired with a gout of black smoke and the imp head disappeared. There was a crack as his shot continued through the fiend to shatter the ceramic flooring beyond. Dead silence followed the attack, every worker in the room staring at him in horror. With a flick of the wrist, he dismissed his weapon and addressed the stunned humans.

    ¡®Alright. All of you. You should go through the passage I came through and hide. It¡¯s about to get real messy in the palace and its going to be safest out of sight.¡¯

    The man he had attempted to speak with was the first to shake of the shock.

    ¡®Y-you just killed a task master. They¡¯ll kill us all for this.¡¯

    Miz-Mag cackled in delight.

    ¡®I believe they¡¯ll have bigger issues to deal with shortly.¡¯

    Mickie started towards the exit of the kitchen.

    ¡®Like I said. Its about to get crazy up here. I recommend you all go and hide.¡¯

    There were several angry murmurs from the surrounding workers, but no one else called him out directly. These people seemed so cowed compared to Aria. She at least acted in her own interest when presented with the opportunity. Mickie reflected that he had been lucky it was the older woman he stumbled into when exiting the Mechanist¡¯s lair. If it had been one of these people, he most likely would have received little to no help. He and Miz-Mag turned a corner and reached the door to the kitchen. Before the silent workspace passed out of sight Mickie took one last look at its human occupants. All he saw were downcast expression and hostile glares. Not a single person had moved towards the secret passage hanging open on the far wall. He turned back to the door and pushed it open. It was not like he could force them to make the right call. Beyond the kitchen was an opulent hall, not dissimilar to those leading toward the staircase. Miz-Mag took a moment to glance about before giving a squeaky grunt of satisfaction.

    ¡®There¡¯s not a lot of these passages spaced about the upper levels. They¡¯re normally pretty direct too. All we need now is some kind of landmark.¡¯

    ¡®That kitchen not good enough for you?¡¯

    The demon barked a laugh.

    ¡®They got more kitchens up here than you can count kid. We¡¯ll need something better than that.¡¯

    Resigned to the role of demon vehicle, Mickie set of down the hall at a jog. Hopefully these upper passages would not be a repeat of Administration, in which Miz-Mag had been all but useless with directions. The path they currently ran along was empty. However, as they reached an intersection and took a turn the pair discovered a more populated passage. Demons were hurriedly darting about, frantic in the face of the looming conflict. Mickie instantly hit the brakes on his run and assumed a steady walk, head down. He did his best to cover the bloodstain on his shirt. The wound beneath it had long since healed, but crusty crimson stain could attract unwanted attention. Luckily for him, the demons seemed far to immersed in their frantic activities to pay a lowly human much attention.

    It was a short while before something caught Miz-Mag¡¯s eye. The diminutive demon perked up on his shoulder before talking in a low squeak.

    ¡®Kid on the left wall. Painting of some weirdo. I recognize it.¡¯

    Mickie chanced a look up while walking and noted the indicated art. It was a huge full body portrait framed in gold, stretching from the floor to the ceiling of the passage. The figure depicted was almost human in proportions, though wrong in peculiar ways. Limbs that were too long and thin, skin that was whiter than porcelain, long, dark hair that floated as if underwater. It was the eyes however, that almost caused his steady gait to falter. Orbs of darkness, black as the abyss below the palace and just as unnerving. No wonder Miz-Mag remembered the painting, even as he tore his eyes away and continued onwards it was as if the eyes were tracking him. He wanted to ask the demon who the painting was of, however he could not risk drawing attention to himself by speaking.

    ¡®Turns out we¡¯re actually close to the stairs up, shame we¡¯re not headed that way yet.¡¯

    For its part, the fiend seemed unperturbed by the artwork, instead mulling over the direction they should take.

    ¡®Alright. I¡¯m thinking the best choice is coming up. Big set of plain doors, low traffic and points us right at a blockade cluster.¡¯

    His companion was on the money. Soon the indicated doors came into range, and with prompting from the demon, Mickie ducked through. This new hall was yet again of a familiar style, plain walls and fluorescent lighting that illuminated sequentially numbered doors. Unlike the previous passage, this new space was all but deserted. Moving along the concrete floor, Mickie only encountered a pair of humans just before they ducked through a door marked three-two-seven. Not even enough time to say a brief hello. On his shoulder, Miz-Mag was getting antsy, urging him to move faster.

    ¡®Got to take a passage up ahead. Jump into room six-oh-seven.¡¯

    They reached the door and Mickie did not hesitate to grasp the handle and push it open. Within was a storage facility, not connected to any tunnels as the first they had seen. Instead, this one was filled with stacks of crates, pilled so high they almost hit the ceiling at some points. There was a young woman nearby with a trolley, straining under the effort of moving an oversized box. She glanced Mickie¡¯s way as he entered, promptly losing focus on her task. The heavy cargo slid from the trolley and hit the ground with a crash. Wincing with the impact the worker looked to Mickie as if it was somehow his fault.

    ¡®I didn¡¯t know they assigned anyone else to hauling in this warehouse.¡¯

    Miz-Mag tisked in annoyance on his shoulder.

    ¡®Kid, we don¡¯t have time for another chat. Head to the far wall, behind those crates.¡¯

    Instead of doing as he was told Mickie turned to the irritated woman.

    ¡®They didn¡¯t.¡¯

    She looked at him in confusion.

    ¡®Then why are you in here? You made me drop that crate.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m in here because I¡¯m hunting demons.¡¯

    The fiend on his shoulder groaned.

    ¡®Kid don¡¯t tell the human that. What if she tells the imps.¡¯

    He shot the demon a glare. Its not like the Imps would have no clue what was happening when they found the kitchen. Though, he was not sure why he paused to talk to this person. Maybe he was feeling guilty for leaving Aria behind and wanted to help some of his other fellow mortals. Or perhaps he just wanted someone who would talk to him after the subdued chefs from before.

    ¡®Hunting demons? The hell are you on about?¡¯

    It took hardly a thought to summon his gun, golden eyed lion ready to fire at his command. The woman took a step back, surprised.

    ¡®What in the nine circles?¡¯

    ¡®Look, I have no time for a detailed explanation. Soon its going to get pretty crazy in the Palace. Make sure you, and anyone you care about gets somewhere safe. Spread the word if you get the chance.¡¯

    Miz-Mag, who had been impatiently huffing on his shoulder suddenly perked up.

    ¡®Something is inbound. We got to move kid.¡¯

    Without an early warning demon to alert her, the young worker spoke on casually.

    ¡®I mean, I¡¯ve noticed all the imps getting worked up recently. What¡¯s happening out there?¡¯

    Mickie could make out a distant commotion from the tunnel. It might not be for him, but he couldn¡¯t afford to wait and see.

    ¡®Some slaves from the lower levels have rebelled. Creatures called the Kindle Kin.¡¯

    He cast a look to the door of the warehouse.

    ¡®Look, I got to go.¡¯

    Unable to delay any further, he moved towards Miz-Mag¡¯s indicated crates. The woman¡¯s eyes widened slightly as she too finally heard the approaching racket. He reached the crates and began looking about for some kind of lever or button.

    ¡®Um. If you¡¯re looking for the passage, those are the wrong boxes. It¡¯s the other wall.¡¯

    Ducking back out of the cramped space Mickie glared at his demon companion, who at least looked slightly abashed. They swiftly made it to the spot the woman indicated and found a button cut smoothly into the concrete. As the commotion in the halls grew dangerously close, he ducked his head out and mouthed a thank you to the worker. She gave him an eye roll in return. The secret entrance was a panel in the floor that folded downwards, and the duo dropped into the dark. As Mickie hefted the trapdoor back into place there was a crash from the door to the storage room. A high voice wrang out, causing him to pause.

    ¡®You. Mortal. We have received a report of a suspicious human entering this facility. You will provide identification and inform us of any such individuals.¡¯

    When the woman spoke, she sounded completely different from their encounter.

    ¡®O-of course master. Here is my identifier. I have not seen anything amiss. I-I have just been completing my tasks as ordered.¡¯

    It was some top notch acting, and Mickie was grateful she hadn¡¯t sold them out. If this demon squad discovered him here it would hamper his plans. The demons questioned the woman further as Mickie slid the trapdoor home, careful to hold the latch open to prevent it clicking loudly. If that woman was willing to cover for him, the least he could do was make sure they could not catch her in the lie. He stalked quietly into the dark of the tunnel, pausing a distance in to take out his lamp.

    ¡®Kid that was far too close.¡¯

    Mickie did not reply to his companion. While he knew that had been a close call, all he felt was satisfied. It was good to know, after the reaction of the kitchen staff, that not everyone in this palace was broken. There was more than just himself and Aria resisting the suffocation of Hell.

    <hr>

    The duo did not need to stay long in the tunnels this time around, Miz-Mag soon calling out the exit. Their way out was a sliding wall panel that positioned them behind an aesthetic drapery within one of the opulent halls.

    ¡®Righto kid, we¡¯re just about on the border of the first cluster. Hope you know how you¡¯re going to tackle a bunch of imps at once.¡¯

    That was a roadblock to Mickie¡¯s plan that he had not been able to overcome. While they had gotten the layout of the blockades from their prisoner, the imp had not known the structure of the defences. So, he and Miz-Mag would be moving in blind and have to figure it out as they went. The hall was quiet as they snuck down its length, approaching the first of the choke points. There were no demons or humans nearby, perhaps having been cleared out in preparation for the fight. They should have been getting near the first blockade, yet the passage remained silent. It was strange, he would have expected to hear something from the waiting forces. A frantic tapping on his ear drew Mickie¡¯s attention to his fiendish companion. Miz-Mag was waving its arms frantically, miming something with its mouth and throat. That certainly was strange, usually the imp was happy to chat, knowing nothing but its partner could hear it.

    After a few more desperate seconds of miming the red figure threw its hand into the air in exasperation. Getting irritated with the ongoing display Mickie decided to just ask what the issue was. He opened his mouth in preparation for a murmured whisper. Yet when he formed the words there was nothing, no sound emerged from between his lips. Odd, he had been trying to be quiet, yet his voice should still have been audible. Attempting to speak slightly louder, Mickie was met with the same result. Nothing. He frowned in confusion, attempting to speak at a regular volume. The air moved in his lungs, tickled his voice box, and vibrated the skin of his throat. Yet no sound reached his ears.

    Miz-Mag appeared to have noticed his attempt at speech and had taken on a smug look. Smarmy devil, its not like it was the demon¡¯s terrible acting had been what clued him in. He gave the tiny fiend a roll of his eyes before returning to the walk. Now he knew to listen for it, Mickie realised that even his footfalls were unnaturally silent. Perhaps this phenomenon had something to do with the blockade.

    Another intersection was fast approaching. Knowing that they would soon be upon the demons, Mickie carefully glanced around the corner, finally catching sight of his first target. Dead ahead the passage opened in a chamber, opulent in d¨¦cor and containing what he assumed was a staircase. The space was so backed up with demons and equipment that it was impossible to see what they were guarding. Dark steel barricades lined the floor, supporting mounted weapons of twisted metal. Crates of strange ammunition sat open and ready to be used beside teams of imps. Most curiously, there was a strange device at the back of the formation. A hulking thing of metal pipes and protrusions. It connected to the floor and ceiling with huge suction cups at the end of thick wires. The main body of the device glowed with blood red runes, evil things that pulsed with the beat of a heart. If Mickie had to take a guess, he would say that was what cut out all sound. A machine that fused technology with demonic magic to suppress all noise. The only question was why the demons needed it.

    While the lack of sound might have aided Mickie in his approach of the blockade, the demons were not complete fools. As he wandered down the hall the group noticed his approach and a pair of fiends moved forward to meet him. These were not the typical imps he had grown accustomed to within the bound of the castle. Instead, they were taller than the red minions, with leathery brown skin and bulbous gecko eyes. For all that the creatures were larger than the imps, they were not altogether imposing, hunch backed and scrawny.

    As Mickie got close to the duo something strange happened. There was a sudden pressure behind his eyes, a weight on his body like the turn of a rollercoaster. Then a voice spoke straight into his head, cold and emotionless.

    ¡®Mortal. Why do you approach the blockade.¡¯

    It took an effort of will not to immediately flinch at the foreign thoughts entering his head. Somehow, someway, these creatures could talk directly to his mind. A workaround for the sound suppressors no doubt. Hopefully they couldn¡¯t read thoughts or anything like that, otherwise Mickie would lose the element of surprise. He attempted to think of a response, willing his reply to reach the strange brown creatures.

    ¡®I have orders to pass on from the Palace Lord itself.¡¯

    That seemed to do the trick. The demons before him tilted their heads before pausing. A moment later the voice entered his head once more.

    ¡®You will relay them. But first you will provide service identification and the passcode for this blockade.¡¯

    ¡®Of course, I have my identification right here.¡¯

    Mickie shuffled towards the pair, patting his pants as if searching his non-existent pockets. The duo stayed wary, watching him like a hawk.

    ¡®Ah, got it. Apologies great masters.¡¯

    He pulled his hand up as if holding something. When it drew level with the nearest demon, he called forth his gun and shot the creature from a few feet away. The lion headed barrel spat golden force that tore the being in half before slamming against the noise suppressor behind it. Mickie immediately rushed the remaining fiend but staggered as a sledgehammer passed right through his skull and clocked his brain. It was a mind attack, one that disrupted his run and caused him to stumble. Rather than instantly fall over Mickie continued forward and collided hard with the demon. Instantly the force on his mind lifted, becoming more akin to a light headache than a pounding migraine.

    The alleviated pain provided Mickie with enough of his faculties to fight back. He instantly grasped the demon by the back of its leathery head and slammed it face first into a wall. One hit stopped the remnant pounding in his head. Five saw the monster cease moving entirely. That had not been pleasant to endure. In future Mickie would need to keep an eye out for this particular demon. If one of them got the jump on him that might spell his doom.

    Surprisingly enough, the remaining imps within the blockade had not noticed the altercation, still standing at attention with eyes locked on the stairwell. That meant he could sneak in and deliver some chaos before shredding the noise machine and fleeing. Mickie had made such a mess of the first mind demon that he did not even bother attempting to hide the bodies. Instead moving swiftly towards the ranks of imps. It was strange none of them had so much as glanced his way, instead focusing intently on the location of the staircase.

    He paused at the threshold to the open room, the final spot that would provide any cover before he was upon the small force. Just inside, to either side of the passage were stacked crates. He slunk towards them, hoping they might hold something to assist him in making a scene. The first lid he popped off revealed stacks of oddly shaped ammunition. Effective but not ideal. A second lid was all it took to strike gold, however. Rows of cylinders, metal constructions with pins holding a handle against the body.

    Wasting no further time, Mickie grasped a grenade in each hand and flicked the pins free with his thumbs. He lobbed them straight for two of the larger weapon emplacements, aiming for the crates of ammunition stored there. Without even waiting for the explosives to land he was running back down the tunnel, carrying as many of the small cylinders as he could manage. It was a small distance to the bulky silencing machine, and he ducked behind it, waiting for the blast. Except there was no blast. No burst of debris, or flash as the ammo caught. Instead, white smoke began to rise amongst the feet of the imps, spreading like a low cloud. It took time for the demons to notice the substance, coughing silently before looking down with wide eyes. They began to stumble away, choking and retching without sound.

    Mickie cursed into the quiet, he had been hoping for an immediate impact on the formation. Gas grenades, while effective, did not produce the impact of a true explosion. Already the demons outside the toxic fumes were scanning the room for a culprit. Thinking fast, Mickie pulled the pin on another two grenades and lobbed them into the room. Instead of aiming for any demons the cylinders landed a ways outside the open tunnel. In moments fumes were filling air devoid of any life. The imps began to notice him huddled in the passage, pointing and attempting to alert their compatriots. Bulky metal rifles were raised in his direction as an obscuring white fog rose. Ducking out of sight behind the machinery there were a number of flashes that were swiftly followed by vibrations in the metal of the device. Then, like the volume dial on a stereo being slowly turned, sound returned. Not the full volume of a combat zone but a muted murmuring, as if he were listening from underwater. The stupid demons had shot their own machine.

    It appeared they had realised it as well, because as a foggy veil rose over the passage¡¯s exit, there were no further flashes from within its depths. Mickie stared into the toxic murk, steeling himself up for what had to happen next. On his shoulder Miz-Mag seemed to gather his intentions and wanted no part. It leapt onto the machinery and gave him a helpless shake of the head. Cowardly little critter. As ready as he would ever be, Mickie turned towards the smoke, took a deep breath, and ran right at it.

    The world became a murky white that cut at his eyes with innumerable needles. The muted sounds that reached him were those of screaming and coughing demons. Turning as soon as he entered the stairwell room Mickie came upon the crates once more. He shoved the box of gas grenades towards the clean air of the passage. The effort caused him to grunt out precious oxygen. Tears were attempting to wash away toxins that could be cleared by water. His lungs started to burn. Just a bit longer.

    With increasingly desperate hands Mickie began to hurl aside the lids of containers, searching. There. These were different to the cylinders of gas, with pins and handles, but spherical instead. His body was screaming for air. He needed to take a breath.

    Instead, Mickie grabbed a pair of the grenades and scattered the box onto the floor. He pulled the pins and hurled them into the fog, towards where he thought the emplacements had been. Now he could go. Turning back towards the tunnel Mickie stumbled forwards, desperate for clean air, when a figure hurtled out of the mist. The imp barrelled into him, sending itself sprawling and knocking the last of the air from his lungs. As Mickie summoned his gun and shot the creature, he inhaled a lungful of the white gas. No longer able to resist.

    Lungs burned with incandescent fire, throat scraped raw by razorblades. Desperate to be free of the poison he staggered into the passage. Only to find it was not safe. The gas had spread, flowing into the safer spaces to further entrap those within its depths. A bull jumped kicked Mickie¡¯s back as the grenades went off, launching him deeper into the passage. He connected with the metal of a bulky machine and bounced deeper, coming to a stop in a ragged heap. Mickie gasp for breath, and was surprised to find he could. Lungful¡¯s of clean air that seemed unable to remove the fire from his insides. Unable to move he retched and gasped onto the pristine tiles of the hall, body seizing and shaking from the poison.

    Function returned slowly, and as soon as Mickie could move, he turned back towards the stairwell. The gas was retreating into the space, he could feel a breeze pushing it back, like the breath of a lifegiving God. The imps must have had a failsafe, some kind of exhaust fan. Quickly, he turned to the bulky silencing machine as it was revealed and shot the thing with the leopard headed barrel. Then again as the barrel rotated, and again. Each blast was louder in his ears, rising in volume as the runes on the machine dimmed. When they finally sputtered and went out the chamber was becoming clear once more. Mickie did not hear the clamour of spluttering demons he had expected, there was some gasping and retching but the hall was quiet for the most part. Then the cackle of a tiny red figure echoed through the space.

    ¡®By the blood, my dear boy. You certainly did a number on them.¡¯

    Indeed, he had. The staircase room cleared to reveal a mass of imps, gasping, retching, and laying still. One of the grenades had hit an ammo crate and set the whole show off, blasting aside the blockades to reveal the stairs. They were extensive, not a spiral but a straight shot into the depths of the castle, broken only by the occasional landing. The result was a near unobstructed view into the palace¡¯s depths. A view that contained figures, distant and moving slowly upwards. Creatures made almost entirely of steel, but for a pale fleshy core. The Kindle Kin.

    ¡®Oh wow. They sure are close huh. Must be because this passage is such a straight shot up.¡¯

    Mickie tried to respond but his spasming lungs failed him, forcing him against the wall to support a coughing fit. Silence returned as he regained his breath. Except it was not true silence, not completely. Beyond the whir of air condition, and the pained moans of the imps, something new tickled his ears. A thudding rhythm, timed to the distant stomping of metallic feet. Growing louder by the moment. It came, not just through the air, but through the floor and the walls. A song that was familiar and yet distinct. It was not of loss and belonging, as it had been in Administration. This song spoke of chains, of pain, and most of all, fury. Anger forged and hammered until it stood stronger than steel. The collective rage of a species used up like leaves in a fire, all to warm the hands of an uncaring master. The Kindle Kin sang a song of war as they rose, and the very world itself carried their voice.

 8 â€“ Song and Silence

    The timetable had just slid forward for Mickie. He had not expected the Kindle Kin to approach the upper floors so rapidly. They might be slow movers, but the robot hybrids were tireless in their inexorable ascent. It was hard to judge how much longer he had until they arrived, though he was certain he would know when they did. The song of war had been getting louder as he stood, dumbstruck, with Miz-Mag. Even with the strange creatures so distant, the sounds they made already permeated the very walls of the upper palace. Just how intense would the music be when they arrived? Mickie glanced to the recently ruined silencing machine. Was this song the reason for these bulky devices? If so, it seemed like a lot of effort just to block out some music. He must be missing something.

    ¡®Kid we don¡¯t have time to dawdle.¡¯

    Miz-Mag had shaken free of its stupor and was now pinching Mickie¡¯s ear to get his attention. Shaking his head to dislodge the demon and his distraction both, Mickie turned to what remained of the weapon supplies. While the gas had not damaged the supplies, the subsequent explosions certainly had. There were cartridges of ammunition strewn amongst spare firearms of a strange make. The spherical grenades were even now still rolling about the room, having made it to all corners of the space. With little time to spare Mickie scooped up a couple of the death balls before making for the exit.

    ¡®It¡¯s strange, I thought the Kindle Kin were all pretty docile, outside of the freaky guards anyway.¡¯

    He threw a glance at the stairs as they left.

    ¡®Guess I was wrong.¡¯

    On his shoulder the tiny demon gave a dark chuckle.

    ¡®I¡¯ll say kid. Been wandering these halls for a century, and I never saw one of those grey goobers even cast an angry look before now.¡¯

    The duo reached a mess of gas canisters, spread about the hall after Mickie had tossed their crate out of the toxic fumes. The original idea behind the move had been to get some weapons out of the gas. However, the failsafe triggered by the imps had made the stairwell accessible once more, even if it had been too late to help the red demons. He took the opportunity to gather some canisters back into the crate. Several cylindrical death tubes soon sat by the pair of grenades he had scooped up. Mickie did not fill the box to the lid, he needed to move fast with this cargo. The Kindle Kin¡¯s song was steadily rising, the call of a leviathan whale as it arose from the deep. The sound of it was infecting Mickie, driving him to run, to fight. With the very ground vibrating in fury, the pair set of for the next blockade.

    Miz-Mag appeared to be feeling the effects of the music alongside him. As they ran the demon was uncharacteristically silent, speaking only to give directions and keeping its eyes locked ahead. The duo weaved through another tunnel, no longer attempting to remain discreet. All the attention would be on the encroaching metal hybrids, speed was most vital to them now. Racing up a service passage, Mickie knew they were getting close when the omnipresent war song became muffled. It faded to silence alongside the sounds of the world. The final thing Mickie heard was Miz-Mag shouting a reminder directly into his ear. Two-six-three, the number of the door they were targeting. The next blockade.

    They arrived before the nondescript location. The corridor was empty of life and blanketed in enforced silence. This blockade was most likely a Mechanist tunnel if it resided in one of the service warehouses. There might be more demons present to handle the larger entry point. Mickie placed his explosive cargo to one side and removed two of the smoke grenades. He flicked out their pins and pushed through the door to the room. It certainly was a Mechanist tunnel, the loading bay cordoned off with huge weapon emplacements. The crates had been removed from the storage area, making space for a bulky machine pulsing with dark runes. At the rear of the formation Mickie noted another pair of the brown mind demons. This time they had not noticed him, eyes glued to the dark of the tunnel as they awaited the metal monsters.

    As he lobbed the two gas grenades towards the throng of fiends, something caught Mickie in the side. He was sent rolling along the floor from the force of it, coming to a stop deeper in the warehouse beside the ominous machine. Looking up he noted an imp standing with one of the strange firearms. The tip smoked as the creature screamed into the silence. It stood next to the ammunition stores, hidden slightly by the open door. How in the nine circles had Mickie missed the thing? Checking doors and corners was usually a habit for him. As the imp raised its weapon once more a small figure clambered onto is shoulder. While Mickie might not have noticed the enemy, that did not mean Miz-Mag hadn¡¯t. Before the gun could be fired again, his companion stabbed into the imp¡¯s eye with its needle claws. The gunslinger screamed in agony and stumbled back into the crates it was guarding. The contents of the boxes were scattered about as it writhed.

    Mickie rose back to his feet with the feeling of sticky warmth running down his stomach. Before he could check the wound Miz-Mag caught his attention. It was waving and pointing frantically towards the tunnel entrance. A number of demonic faces were coughing and squinting at him as smoke crept upwards amongst their number. Panic set into the guards, some raising their weapons towards him. Mickie cursed soundlessly and dove behind the bulky metal construct as the shooting started. A rain of heat blasted about him, the imps hitting their own device instead of the human huddled behind it. Pinned in place, Mickie could only hope that the smoke did enough work on the demons to give him a chance of slipping away.

    A glance towards Miz-Mag had him performing a double take. Somehow his companion had killed the imp, leaving a bloody ruin of its face. Now the tiny demon was hefting a grenade from the ammo pile. It spun in place, building momentum before hammer throwing the explosive at the enemy demons. The pin was pulled free as the grenade soared into the air, bouncing, and rolling just short of the blockade. Mickie hunkered down as Miz-Mag bolted for the door of the warehouse, ducking outside and to safety. There was a concussive wave and the shots at his position stopped abruptly. Glancing around the ragged machinery Mickie found the guard force falling into hysteria. The gas had almost entirely enveloped them, and the grenade shattered whatever ordered attempts of escape they had cobbled together.

    Taking the opportunity presented to him, Mickie called forth his gun and jammed it into the ragged silencing machine. One shot was all it took after the repeated demon abuse. Something vital in the device broke and sound came crashing back about him like a thunderclap. Screaming imps, a keening moan that appeared to come from the mind demons. And the song. It was louder than ever before, vibrating Mickie¡¯s bones to a rhythm of fury. He rose with the call, turning from the chaos and breaking for the door. No demons fired upon him as he ducked back into the hall.

    <hr>

    The duo covered some distance before Mickie ducked into an empty room. His shirt and the bottom of his pants were becoming soaked with red. Pressure on the gunshot had kept him going for a time, but the wound needed tending before it closed around the shrapnel. The space they found themselves in was little more than oversized storage cupboard, picked by Miz-Mag as a likely quiet spot. Mickie leant against the closed door and turned to his companion, speaking loudly to be heard over the war song.

    ¡®I need you to pull the bullet out.¡¯

    The demon¡¯s golden eyes crinkled in disgust.

    ¡®Truly? Must I go digging through your flesh.¡¯

    Mickie almost rolled his eyes, but the feeling of blood oozing between his fingers kept him serious.

    ¡®Quickly. Before it heals over.¡¯

    Receiving a reluctant nod from the tiny fiend he slumped against the door, lying almost flat to ensure easy access. What followed was a painful minute of gritted teeth, as Mickie endured his companion¡¯s tender ministrations. Once Miz-Mag declared him clean they waited a while longer, keeping pressure on the wound until the bleeding had stopped.

    ¡®Alright kid. You¡¯ve had your rest. Time to move.¡¯

    Mickie gave the squeaky upstart and deadpan glare.

    ¡®If I stand up right now, the wound will rupture. Give me another five then we can go. If I bleed all over the floor it will be a bit conspicuous, don¡¯t you think?¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s grumbled response was lost in the surrounding noise. As the pair sat and waited, Mickie wondered if the Kindle Kin had reached this level yet. They had not been far away at the first staircase. The song had been growing progressively louder, and eventually Mickie could not withstand its urging for violence. He stood slowly to test the gradually healing bullet hole. While the wound both hurt and was still open, it no longer bled freely. That would have to be good enough, they really could not afford to waste any more time.

    The duo slipped out of the room and were running towards the next blockade when they met resistance in the halls. A platoon of imps equipped with bulky guns and supported by a single mind demon. Mickie came near face to face with them as he rounded an intersection. There was a moment of startled observation in which the two sides stared one another down. Then one of the imps regained its senses.

    ¡®Mortal. You were commanded to confinement. Why are you in the halls?¡¯

    Another imp was peering at him with a frown.

    ¡®Wait. Bilsen. That one looks familiar, look at the blood on it. Remember the report from Barrier C-3?¡¯

    Mickie did not wait for their conversation to finish, he removed his hand from inside the crate and tossed one of the two explosive grenades at the squad. It had been gently cooked in the moments prior and was ready to burn. He hardly had time to duck back around the corner before the blast ripped through the hall. The squadron was given no respite as he followed up with a cylinder of toxic gas.

    ¡®Alright. That corridor¡¯s out. We¡¯ll have to go around.¡¯

    Miz-Mag nodded sagely.

    ¡®That it is dear boy. Lucky for you, I am encyclopaedic on the topic of guidance.¡¯

    His companion waved down the corridor and the pair set of once more, music in their ears and wailing demons in their wake.

    ¡®At least we know the plan is working. If we are already stumbling into reserve forces they must be starting to panic in the centre.¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps. I¡¯m just hoping we can do enough damage they don¡¯t notice us slipping past.¡¯

    That was the goal. During his interrogation of the imp, Mickie had discovered that the Palace Lord had a reserve force on standby at the centre of the blockades. In other words, right by the stairs to the eighth floor. Mickie had already intended on causing some chaos as a distraction, though this information expanded his plan. The idea was simple. They would take down as many of the blockades as possible before the Kindle Kin arrived. Then the subsequent pandemonium would hopefully draw away the demons from the stairs to the eighth circle. If the conflict got bad enough, they might very well be able to sneak up the stairs unnoticed. It was certainly not a safe plan, nor entirely reliable. There was also a significant risk of human workers getting caught in the crossfire of waring demons. Yet Mickie found it hard to care. Those with drive to survive would make it. He struggled to picture Aria bumbling into an active battle instead of hunkering down. No, the people who got caught up would be those foolish enough not to flee.

    The song of the Kindle Kin grew silent once more as the duo neared the next blockade. Mickie had not realised how loud the thumping rhythm had gotten until it left his ears. The steel creatures could not be far away now. Reaching the next choke point they found a spiralling staircase close to an intersection of passageways. It stopped at a landing on their floor before continuing upwards to another level. Except it only made it about halfway to the ceiling above. The demons had removed the stairs from the central support pillar, making ascension beyond their barricade impossible. Mounted steel barriers encircled the stairwell, turrets pointed downwards and awaiting the Kindle Kin¡¯s arrival.

    Mickie did provide an opportunity for the demons to notice him. He tossed his remaining grenade towards the encirclement alongside a gas canister. Before either had a chance to detonate they were followed by two more death cans. Even with the speed of his approach however, it appeared the demon¡¯s had been informed he might attack. They turned upon him at some silent signal, weapons raised to poke him full of holes. With wide eyes Mickie ducked back around the intersection as bullets whizzed by in silence. The gifts he had supplied the angry guard force revealed themselves with a demonstration of explosive force and toxic fumes. As the suppressing fire stuttered in response Mickie dared a peek about the corner. The explosive had done some work, but it appeared the demons had prepared a counter for his gas grenades. An imp ran by the passage entrance, toxic canister in hand. The creature reached the spiralling stairwell and dropped his demon killer into it. What remained of the fumes were quickly drawn upwards towards an air system. It appeared they had already triggered the failsafe for the gas cannisters.

    The return of the bullet rain forced Mickie back behind cover. This blockade was a bust, he turned to leave when an idea struck him. If Miz-Mag snuck up the hall it could probably cause a distraction, maybe take out the silencing machine. He attempted to mime the plan to his diminutive companion. It took a few attempts for the message to get across, and when it did the demon did not look keen. Apparently sneaking up a corridor full of active fire was not an idea it considered exciting. Mickie contemplated just flinging the little guy up the hall anyway, it¡¯s not like the imps could see him. If he aimed correctly, the likelihood of Miz-Mag getting shot was negligible.

    Apparently, the fiend sensed his thoughts because it leapt off his shoulder and gave him a dirty look. Miz-Mag scurried over to the passage intersection and glanced up the length of the tunnel. Mickie wondered if it was actually going to run the gauntlet, but found his attention shifting as he failed to note any gunfire. There were no blurred distortions in the air. No spontaneous dents in the walls as bullets ricochet off them. Cautiously he joined the diminutive demon in peeking around the corner.

    The staircase stood at the end of the hall, same as it had before. Smoke billowed up from bellow, a toxic cloud that obscured the depths. And in that cloud he saw it. A looming giant, rising into the room with methodical movements. From the fog it emerged, gunfire pining of a body of dark steel, the fleshy core guarded by broad arms. Mickie caught a glimpse of an eye within the mound of moving metal. Large, bloodshot from the toxic fumes, and briming with rage. The Kindle Kin stomped through the weaker gunfire like it was an afternoon rain. All about the creature demons back away in fear, desperate to stay clear of its visceral claws. He saw one of the brown demons raise a hand at the giant, mouth agape in a silent cry. Perhaps trying to strike at the living mind of the hybrid. Whatever it attempted was not enough. The Kindle Kin staggered slightly, then a claw descended upon the creature. The fiend was eviscerated, like a fly that had been swatted, it crumpled to the floor, dead.

    Another metal monster emerged from the fog as the first disappeared from sight. It too was met with a rain of bullets, and unlike the first it did not protect its core adequately. The behemoth staggered as speeding shrapnel tore into flesh, lashing out and catching a pair of imps. The demons were dead before they hit the ground, though the Kindle Kin was also waning. Before it fell the creature tore into the scattered defensive forces, shredding them like paper. The huge body took another few shots from the surrounding imps. It staggered and fell, crushing an enemy even as the life left its metal limbs.

    As yet another hybrid emerged from the stairs sound returned like a crashing tsunami. The first metal hybrid had successfully destroyed the silencing machine. The return of sound did not bring with it the clamour of nearby combat. It did not bring the screams of demons or the crack of gunfire. All it brought, was the song. The weight of it was a physical force on Mickie. Like adrenaline behind the eyes, or a thunderstrike to the soul. He felt the fury. He was the fury. The demons had tried to contain him, to destroy him. Oh no. He would show them. They would fall. Foolish creatures. So much fuel into the flames they had started a fire they could no longer control.

    Something jabbed into Mickie¡¯s nose, a sharp object that made him reel backwards in pained discomfort. The shock of the blow seemed to lift a haze from his mind, and he found himself in the hall approaching the stairs. Dead ahead was a metal giant, back to him as it trapped the imps in their own blockade. Bullets flittered by as Mickie stood, dumfounded and in the open but for the hybrid¡¯s body. Miz-Mag retracted its clawed hand from his nose, a panicked look on the demon¡¯s face. He swiftly stumbled back out of the hall and to the safety of the intersection.

    The song still pounded at his soul, urging him to fight, to move, to slay. Yet he was removed from it now. Standing in the water as it rushed about him, rather than diving into the flow. Now he understood why the imps had installed the silencing machines. The song was more than just sound. It was some kind of weapon, a force that drove allies to fight and enemies to break. He had seen the panic on the imps faces as they attempted to slip by the wall of metal guarding the passage. The demons in that room were dead the moment they had cracked under the song. Without coordinated fire, they would never escape.

    ¡®You seeing sense again, kid?¡¯

    Miz-Mag had to shout to be heard over the pounding song. Mickie gave his companion a nod before standing straight.

    ¡®You think this is enough chaos?¡¯

    The demon looked at the butchery occurring in the staircase.

    ¡®I¡¯d say so. To the centre then?¡¯

    ¡®To the centre.¡¯

    He agreed and the pair set off into the maze of passages once more. Mickie only had a couple of gas grenades remaining and he carried them separately rather than in the crate. As he ran the war song was a constant drumming against his soul. Its volume of such that the demon on his shoulder resorted to pointing and poking to provide directions. The duo exited the service corridor into an opulent hall. They rounded a bend before coming up short at a charnel pit of chaotic destruction. A platoon of imps was hemmed in by four metal giants, being shredded as they wailed and pushed at one another. The creatures were not even fight back, just scrambling about a desperate bid to survive. Ostentatious walls were painted with viscera, demons slipping in the blood of their comrades as they stumbled away. It was a scene reeking of iron and fear.

    Mickie had seen some rough stuff, both alive and in Hell, but the display before him was enough to make him taste bile. Miz-Mag had indicated their way forward was through the massacre, but neither of them wanted to get any closer. Instead, the pair turned about and chose another direction, aiming to wrap around the conflict. They crashed through doors and cut around corners, sticking to the larger hallways for the sake of speed. Rounding another bend, Mickie almost had his head taken off by thudding gunfire. He rolled to the side at the sight of blockade in their intended tunnel. Coming up beside the blocked passage he swore into the rumbling war song.

    ¡®Mag, is there another way around?¡¯

    He was forced to shout right at the tiny demon to be heard.

    ¡®Yeah. But we¡¯ll need to wrap around the centre. It¡¯ll add some time.¡¯

    That was not ideal. If the imps somehow managed to reestablish control they would begin actively hunting him. He needed to get to the main staircase before that could happen. Looking down at the remaining two gas grenades he carried, Mickie figured it was worth a shot. Arming the two he lobbed them at a wall within the tunnel, hoping the blind throw would catch the demons. It was hard to make out, but for a moment he might have heard shouting. Then one of the heavy guns started methodically sweeping the hall, swiftly shooting from one wall to the other. It looks like he had not caught the blockade with the gas, instead having fallen short. The resulting cloud must have blocked the tunnel and as a result the demons were sweeping the space with blind fire. Something he doubted they could keep up forever, though he had no idea how long it would take them to run out of ammo. If it was long enough for the fumes to clear he would have zero chance of rushing the entrenched force.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    It looked like the duo would need to take the long way around. Mickie wanted to scream in irritation at the delay. They were so close, just a bit more and he could be free of this accursed palace. Gritting his teeth, Mickie ran into the labyrinth once more.

    <hr>

    It did not take long for the duo to figure out that they were trapped. Every turn led to a bloody conflict or a demon blockade. It looked like the palace rulers were slowly taking back control of the region, encircling, and driving back the Kindle Kin hybrids.

    ¡®We need a way out. You got a tunnel or something?¡¯

    Mickie still had to shout over the pounding war song.

    ¡®Yeah, I got something. We¡¯ll be losing time though.¡¯

    The tiny demon had been growing increasingly agitated as their options narrowed.

    ¡®At this point it¡¯s that or nothing.¡¯

    Miz-Mag reluctantly agreed and soon Mickie was stepping into a series of bunk rooms. Closer to barracks than dormitories, these spaces were clearly made to house human slaves. No one was present amongst the stacks of beds currently however, clearly having fled the nearby fighting. The entrance to the hidden passageway required him to shift one of the beds. A small square of wall behind it fell away when he pushed it, revealing the cramped darkness beyond. With time being such a crucial commodity, Mickie did not bother to reseal the narrow hole. They ran through the tunnels in an unseeing shuffle, bouncing off walls and stumbling along inclines. The exit was luckily at the end of a long tunnel, making it difficult to miss. Unable to see the approaching dead end, Mickie ran right into a hard wall and bounced back onto his ass.

    ¡®Ow¡¯

    Through the song he could faintly make out Miz-Mag¡¯s snickering laughter. Resisting the urge to swat the demon from its perch, he set about finding the exit switch. This one was a large and obvious button protruding from the wall. Not exactly subtle but at least it saved him time. The floor in front of them swung downwards, revealing the top of a crate. Mickie dropped into a storage warehouse linked to the Mechanist¡¯s lair. The large tunnel entrance was a mess of junk and debris, piled high to form a plug. It was honestly quite impressive, and certainly not something the Kindle Kin would be shifting any time soon.

    Signs of movement amongst the crates drew his attention. Humans were huddles amongst the rows of boxes, silent clumps of people weathering the battle together. An older looking man appeared to have noticed him, waving at Mickie to come down. He wave back, easily climbing down the stack of boxes to stand before the old slave.

    ¡®The hell are you doing coming in this late boy? You want to get your ass torn to shreds?¡¯

    The song was somewhat fainter this far from the fighting, though it still reverberated through the warehouse. Yet somehow whip crack of the old man¡¯s voice cut through the noise with contemptuous ease.

    ¡®Coming in late?¡¯

    Scanning the rows, Mickie discovered more people than even the bunk room could have contained. They must think he was insane for staying near the fighting.

    ¡®Oh right. Well, I¡¯ve been causing a bit of chaos. Stirring the pot as it were.¡¯

    The old man gave him a hard look.

    ¡®Nothing that comes back down on our heads I hope.¡¯

    Mickie chuckled.

    ¡®No sir. I believe the imps are a touch too preoccupied currently to track me down.¡¯

    ¡®That they are I suppose.¡¯

    There was a brief silence between them before Mickie cleared his throat.

    ¡®Anyway. I better be off. Things to do and all that.¡¯

    He turned to leave.

    ¡®Wait a moment. You¡¯re really going back out there?¡¯

    ¡®Sure am.¡¯

    The old man took a moment to consider. Right before he spoke, Mickie noticed something shift in his eyes. A flash of anger.

    ¡®You mentioned stirring the pot. What did you mean by that?¡¯

    Mickie gave the man an assessing look. Considering if it was worth the time expenditure to tell him of the chaos they had caused. This fellow was not like meek group from the kitchen, his eyes had a calculating glint and met Mickie¡¯s own evenly, like Aria had.

    ¡®You looking to start a fire yourself old boy?¡¯

    The man grunted.

    ¡®Might do. Won¡¯t kill any of these people in some hair brained scheme though.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s a shame. You felt those patches of quiet the imps have up?¡¯

    He got a nod in response and Mickie proceeded to explain about the choke points and the plan to open them up. The old man¡¯s eyebrows slowly rose during the tale, leaving him almost comically wide eyed. It took a few moments for the man to gather his thoughts when Mickie was done. When he did speak, it was only after looking over Mickie¡¯s bloody clothes.

    ¡®While that sounds effective as far as kicking the hornets¡¯ nest goes. I¡¯d say it¡¯s not the most secure way of getting those metal monsters up here.¡¯

    ¡®How so?¡¯

    The man turned toward the mountain of trashing plugging the tunnel.

    ¡®You know. Some of the early arrivals here said they heard movement on the other side of that blockade. Before this damned music got too loud to make much of anything out.¡¯

    Mickie gave the barrier a contemplative look. When it was just him and Miz-Mag they had dismissed the idea. Looking around the room full of people however, he realised if they all got involved, it just might work. Though, while he was personally sympathetic towards the Kindle Kin, Mickie could admit the metal hybrids were not endearing themselves to the upper levels. He struggled to understand why this old man would provide any assistance to them.

    ¡®I suppose you could dig out the tunnel there. But I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re willing to help the Kindle Kin. They¡¯re not exactly projecting a good image right now.¡¯

    The old man laughed.

    ¡®Boy, I was here when they built the palace. I can remember hauling in people I knew from out on the ice. All turned into metal for this forsaken place¡¯s construction.¡¯

    That brought Mickie up short. Not only had this man seen the source of the dark steel, he had been forced to haul it back personally. And he had apparently helped build the palace? How old was he?

    ¡®Who are you, old man?¡¯

    The humour faded from the wrinkled face.

    ¡®Someone unfortunate enough to survive here longer than anyone should have to.¡¯

    He let lose a weary sigh.

    ¡®Anyway, the point I was making was that I was here when they slipped the collar about the grey singers. I know what they¡¯re normally like. They won¡¯t hurt anyone in this warehouse.¡¯

    This man was older than stone. Perhaps he could even answer some of Mickie¡¯s burning questions. Questions about the brand marring his hand, and the identity of the Soul Lord. Why he had arrived at the bottom of Hell instead of at its gates. However, he was short on time and was not sure he could trust the cunning fox. If this group of people was willing to let lose another wave of metal giants, he wouldn¡¯t stop them. Mickie would need all the chaos he could get to sneak onto the eighth circle. In the end, all he could give the old man was a shrug.

    ¡®If you want to set the dogs loose, be my guest. I¡¯ve got to run though. It¡¯s been interesting talking to you, old man.¡¯

    He turned to leave, and a voice called out from behind.

    ¡®Before you go. You mentioned pockets of silence.¡¯

    Mickie glanced over his shoulder, looking past Miz-Mag to the ancient human.

    ¡®Yeah, what about it?¡¯

    ¡®Got some reports of one nearby. Bit of an anomaly, not grouped with any others.¡¯

    He shrugged haggard shoulders.

    ¡®Just thought you might be interested.¡¯

    Miz-Mag turned to him, and they exchanged a look. There should not be any choke points set up in this area. Every entryway was supposed to be completely sealed to funnel the Kindle Kin away from the centre. What were the imps silencing then if not a staircase?

    ¡®Yeah. That is interesting.¡¯

    Mickie turned back to the door leading out of the warehouse.

    ¡®Thanks.¡¯

    The old man left it at that, and the duo made for the exit, feeling the eyes of the room¡¯s occupants follow them. It made Mickie¡¯s neck itch to be so scrutinised, and he was glad to finally be out of the warehouse. When they were moving once more, Miz-Mag spoke up for the first time since they had exited the secret passage.

    ¡®Welp. That fellow was something. It¡¯s rare you mortals stick around for as long as he has.¡¯

    Mickie nodded his agreement.

    ¡®Yeah, crazy to think a human could be that old. Not sure I really trust him though. Why do you think he told us about the silent spot?¡¯

    The demon hummed thoughtfully, the sound almost inaudible over the ongoing music.

    ¡®Nobody lives that long down here and stays clean. The oldies are always dangerous. They¡¯re the ones who¡¯ve played the game and, if not won, at the very least learnt all the rules.¡¯

    ¡®So, we ignore the tip then? If he¡¯s pointing us at something, there must be a reason.¡¯

    The pair travelled in silence as Miz-Mag mulled it over.

    ¡®Normally I would say no to checking it out.¡¯

    The was a hesitant pause before the demon continued.

    ¡®But I¡¯m honestly not sure we¡¯ve done enough. The imps are regaining control, we need more chaos. If the Palace Lord has something other than a choke point under lock and key, I¡¯d say it¡¯s at least worth taking a look.¡¯

    Mickie sighed.

    ¡®Well, we didn¡¯t get any directions. So, I suppose if we run into it, we can take a¡­¡¯

    He paused, notice that his voice had suddenly dropped in volume. Apparently, the old man had not been exaggerating when he said the silent spot was nearby.

    <hr>

    It took the duo some experimental investigating to locate the source of the silencing field. They eventual came upon a service hall, near identical to any other, distinct only in that the numbers above the doors were absent. The passage ahead ended in a broad set of doors, guarded by what was possibly the largest blockade of demons Mickie had seen so far. Rows of heavy weapons glared back at Mickie as he peeked into the passage. Imps stood in neat ranks, weapons slung and ready to blast any approaching intruder. After catching little more than a glimpse of the small army, Mickie swiftly pulled his head out of the passage. He was unsure if the demons had spotted him, the lack of gunfire seemed to indicate he had gone unnoticed.

    While he huddled behind cover, Miz-Mag continued to stand out in the open, observing the forces in their path. Mickie felt the impact of the sound dampener acutely, if they could talk the tiny fiend could give him a breakdown of the defences. However, in the silence all he got from his companion was a shake of the head. Looked like this was a no go. Unfortunate, but from what Mickie had seen of the defences it was too risky to try and break through. Whatever the palace demons had behind those doors, it certainly was not a staircase. This was the first pre-planned blockade they had found with defences focussed outward, preventing entry to a room rather than their current level.

    He supposed it did not matter much either way, it was not like they were going to get past all those demons. Miz-Mag clambered back onto his shoulder and patted it consolingly. As they moved away Mickie wondered what the point had been behind the old man informing them of this place. The ancient human must have known the spot was so heavily guarded. Did he somehow expect them to get past gunfire from multiple heavy weapons? Mickie doubted it.

    The duo reached an intersection and Mickie paused, waiting for the usual tap or point to indicate direction. Miz-Mag seemed distracted, however. The fiend was staring into space with furrowed brows. He jostled his shoulder to snap the blighter out of it, getting an angry glare for his efforts. There was a tweak of pain from his ear as the demon pinched it. Then Miz-Mag pointed back the way they had come. Mickie raised his eyebrows at the directions and his companion rolled its eye before pointing again. Feeling like a horse that had just been spurred, he spun around, heading towards the guarded hall once more.

    Huddled just out of sight of the demons, Mickie stared uncomprehendingly as Miz-Mag attempted to mime some kind of plan. His dead-eyed look must have registered because the demon threw up its tiny fists in exasperation and slid off his shoulder. It pointed to him, then pointed to ground on which he sat. Then Miz-Mag pointed to itself and to the end of the passage. Mickie showed he understood that message with a roll of his eyes. The little rat applauded like a parent watching a child fit Legos together for the first time. He immediately reacted by flicking a hand at the condescending hell spawn, but Miz-Mag dodged out of the way and into the blockaded hall. So, Mickie settled for sending his companion off with a rude gesture instead.

    The wait was slowly driving Mickie mad. After so much time running and moving, simply hiding felt wrong. He had no idea what Miz-Mag intended by heading into the encampment alone. Though whatever it was the demon was taking its sweet time. Initially he had assumed the task was some scouting. Though as seconds merged into minutes and his agitation grew, it became increasingly clear that was not the case. When the realisation came, it was with a subtle change. Mickie began to hear a distant thudding sound, a familiar song, faint but growing louder by the moment. It looked like Miz Mag had gotten through the door, and was now sabotaging the sound dampener. Volume returned with increasing intensity, eventually crashing back around him with the force of a storm. The war song thrummed through his veins, and Mickie found himself almost swept up by it again. Knowing he needed his senses, he instead twisted an ear lobe sharply, using the pain to bring focus.

    If Mickie had noticed the return of sound, then the imps certainly had as well. He could here panicked shouting over the thrumming music, calls of confusion. Then a tiny red figure was ducking back around the corner, panting in exertion. Miz-Mag clambered back up his arm to collapse on his shoulder.

    ¡®Got them good.¡¯

    The demon panted.

    ¡®Managed to get inside the dampener and wreck it, took some work though.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s curiosity burned.

    ¡®So, what were they guarding then?¡¯

    Miz-Mag slowly got control of its raged breathing.

    ¡®Some kind of pod thing. Like a cylinder standing upright. Almost looked like something you could stick a person into, just was too small for most mortals.¡¯

    Unsure, he considered the possibilities.

    ¡®Some kind of demon maybe?¡¯

    ¡®Not sure. Either way kid, the lack of a dampener should give us a decent distraction. Let¡¯s get a move on before some imps come by to check it out.¡¯

    The demon patted his neck, ready to leave. Mickie did not move though. He sat with narrowed eyes, glaring towards the blockaded path as imps continued to shriek. Some kind of pod huh. What would the demons want to keep located away so tightly. What kind of chaos could he bring about if it got free.

    ¡®Oh no kid. Don¡¯t you think about it. We need to move.¡¯

    He ignored the tiny creature. The demons would be distracted right now, not looking towards the tunnel. The distance was not far. He could make it.

    ¡®Don¡¯t kid. Look I checked the prison thing. It¡¯s sealed up tight as. No way to crack it open easily.¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s tone had gotten pleading. Mickie could feel it though. A call. Through the song he felt a need. A desire to move and fight, a desire to reach whatever, or whoever, awaited within that room. Something floated up through his recent memories. A title heard in passing that was drawn forth by something beyond him, something just inside that room. The Conductor. It was something Rainzell, the Palace lord, had asked about. Mickie knew he couldn¡¯t let this chance go, the world itself sung for him not to walk away. Its tune was somehow different to moments before, a subtle shift. One that rang hollow. An emptiness to the tune that stirred his blood. The song echoed and Miz-Mag wailed as Mickie stood stood, stepping out into the passage.

    He was more than halfway to the blockade when the first demon noticed him, turning away from the open double doors to stare with wide eyes. It raised its weapon as Mickie raised his own. From this range nothing but the leopard would fatally would his target. As he raised his weapon it was unfortunately the wolf that waited in the topmost position. Then, as if it had heard his plea, the barrel spun. Not the slow thunk of a reload, but a rapid twirl that ended with the leopard slotting into place on top. Mickie did not delay to consider the change, firing immediately at the demon as a bullet zipped past him. The condensed shot took the creature in the side, sending it spinning into its fellows and knocking them in a heap.

    By now other imps had caught on and more weapons were raised in his direction while other demons made for the mounted guns. They were too slow, Mickie vaulted the first metal barrier and landed between two imps. They had been fumbling with the larger weapons and were unable to resist as he pistol whipped them with an arm length of shiny steel. Immediately, Mickie grasped one of the dazed duo, and held it up by the back of the neck. The unlucky demon¡¯s body shuddered under a rain of gunfire as Mickie pushed forward. He reached the second row of mounted weapons and tossed his bloody meat shield over the barrier. There was a familiar thud as his gun finished reloading. Just in time. Using the metal cover against the defending imps Mickie pointed his weapon into the bulky machine guns mounting and blew it apart. His new weapon came free with a tug and was immediately spun about to face the recovering fiends. Fire ripped free from the barrel with a thudding roar, blindly tearing into the demon ranks. The feed belt clattered against the metal barricade as Mickie swept the weapon to either side.

    He stood up after the initial burst and took hold of the huge gun, using the sights as a handle. The imps that were not lying bleeding on the floor huddled behind whatever cover they could find. With precise bursts Mickie blasted those he could, shooting through containers of ammunition and the limp bodies of demons. With a crunch the ammo belt for his gun caught, jamming the weapon for a crucial instant. One of the demons took the opportunity to peek from behind a barricade, shooting at him with its rifle. Mickie dropped his heavy weapon and attempted to roll away from the shot, though the heat that blossomed along his arm informed him that he had been unsuccessful. The burn from the wound only served to spike his adrenaline. He could almost see it. The song.

    With a piston drive from his legs Mickie sent his metal barricade careening towards the remaining demons. He stood and leapt for the final barrier as steel collided and shifted. The jolt of the movement shifted an imp¡¯s aim, a bullet grazing his thigh instead of punching his gut. Then he was before the demon, removing it from the fight with a belch of flame. To his left another red hell spawn was attempting to wrangle its mounted weapon around to shoot him. Mickie grabbed the legs of the demon he had just killed and lobbed them at the creature. Blood splattered everything as the ragged remains flew. It took the panicky fiend in the chest, staggering it away from the larger gun. Before the creature could bring its own rifle up Mickie was on it. He grasped the imp by the throat and ran at another group as they fired upon him. The demon¡¯s screaming stuttered as its comrades fired in an attempt to catch Mickie. They failed to take him, and a lion roared with a gold flash, taking two of the imps down. The remaining three were huddled behind a stack of crates, no longer even aiming properly as they fired in terror. Unwilling to wait for his gun to reload, Mickie dismissed it and scooped up a dead demon¡¯s rifle.

    Taking cover behind a crate across from the huddled trio, he dropped his minced meat shield and leant about the side. The angle put him on their flank, and the imps were too shellshocked to realise and reposition. Three bursts from the rifle and they were as still as their companions. A scream from nearby drew Mickie¡¯s attention as a burst of fire cracked into the wall behind him. Near one of the first barricades an imp was wailing in agony with hands over its eyes. Blood soaked its fingers and ran down its face. Looked like Miz-Mag¡¯s work. He raised the rifle to end the demon¡¯s misery when he noted a duo of bloody fiends break from cover and run for the end of the hall. If any of the creatures escaped, they would bring an army back with them. Mickie took a moment to steady his aim before taking the furthest in the back. The fiend tumbled to the floor and its woozy friend tripped over its thrashing form. As the second imp attempted to rise Mickie raised his rifle, and a burst took it in the neck. With the escapees dealt with all that remained was the screaming imp. He took aim, insides hollow as the song about him.

    ¡®My eyes! Oh, sweet Sovereign why? Why¡­¡¯.

    The wailing plea cut off and all that remained was the echoing sound of war. Mickie observed the carnage he had wrought with a familiar empty feeling in his gut. While the flow of violence still rattled through him, the song seemed to have lost its subtle shift. All he heard was the ringing of chains and groaning of a people subjugated. How easy it was to fall into old ways. All it took was a song, and he was right back into the past. The rifle fell from bloody hands, and he bald them into fists to try and stop the shaking. Nothing he could do. It was done. The imps were all dead or dying, their blockade in tatters. All that remained was to walk through the open door nearby. To meet the Conductor.

    A small figure stumbled out from behind a barricade, slipping in a puddle of blood before righting itself on his bare foot. When Miz-Mag looked at him Mickie saw something in its eyes. The imp was wary of him. He had done some wild stuff up until this point, but never had he walked so willingly into a bloodbath. Always there had been a plan, preparation, or flight. The tiny demon saw now what he was truly capable off, and it was unsure what to make of it. Mickie almost laughed, the demon on his shoulder was the one wary of him. There had to be some irony in there somewhere.

    Without anything to say, the pair turned towards the open double doors. From this close he could make out the pod Miz-Mag had described. It was a massive pill shaped container of metal, tethered to the floor and ceiling by thick wires. Tubes of dark steel wrapped and bound the prison, glowing with the same blood red runes as the silencing machines. As they entered the small room he noted a deactivated pile of machinery, the destroyed sound dampener. The device looked out of place in the otherwise barren space. The prison pod was at least central, this other machine was huddle in a corner, like an intruder trying to hide its presence.

    Moving up to the suspended steel, Mickie examined the pod for some kind of opening, finding not a seam in the metal. If there was no easy way to crack this egg, then he would have to slam it against the counter. In an instant his gun was at the ready, the wolf belching flame that tore at rune coated pipes and disconnected a cable. Then it rotated and he fired again, more pipes and another cable coming apart. It took another two shots to sever all the cables on top, at which point the pod fell to the ground with a crash. Then Mickie started on the pipework in earnest. He shot chunks loose and tore them free by hand, stripping the metal away like it was industrial strength wrapping paper. The runes had lasted longer than expected, even with most of the pipes gone from one side they still flickered. With a wrench he tore a final piece free, leaving one half of the now scratched and dented metal cylinder open to the air. The runes finally flicked and died along the remaining pipework. As they did the metal made a sound like nails on a chalkboard, a seam appearing in the pod as if it were cut from within.

    The result was a smooth line delineating the clean half of the device from the pipe laden remainder. Miz-Mag had long since returned to his shoulder and now leant forwards to watch in interest as Mickie bent down and took hold of the ragged metal. With a grunt he lifted half the prison free to reveal what lay within. It was a grey thing; wrinkled and bald. It was curled into a ball in the cramped confinement, unmoving even as the prison was opened. As Mickie set down the metal lid the creature twitched, fingers flexing. He watched as it slowly shifted its body, moving clumsily like a hatchling bird. It rose on stubby legs and exited its prison, using long, two fingered arms for balance.

    While taller than those he had met before, Mickie recognised the creature. A Kindle Kin. Not the half metal hybrids that had been waging war on this level of the palace, but one of the fragile workers. Slowly, the creature raised its short neck, and looked up to him. Its eyes were wide and bulbous, as all those of its kind were. Except unlike they colourful irises of its brethren, this creature gazed upon him with orbs of milky white. It was blind. And yet, as he gazed into the sightless eyes, Mickie felt something, a vibratory shift that pulsed outward in a wave.

    And the song of war, stopped.

    The sudden silence hit Mickie like a physical blow. This was unlike the zones of enforced quiet, in which the song had been suppressed. At those times the tune had been locked away, still there just unable to reach him. He did not know how or why, but this cessation was different. It seemed to take something from him, something he loathed and craved in equal measure.

    After a moment a new sound took the place of the song. It was the droning buzz of innumerable bees, the static of an old TV. The sound warbled and shifted as the blind Kindle Kin raised its hand. Then the conductor spoke, not with its mouth, but with the very world itself. Air vibrated in impossibly intentional rhythms to form words that were without origin because they came from everywhere at once.

    ¡®Hello Song Spinner.¡¯

 9 â€“ A Path Above

    The sourceless voice echoed through the small room, leaving Mickie and Miz-Mag speechless. It was one thing to hear one of these creatures speak, but it was as if the world itself communicated for the blind creature. The Kindle Kin seem to have comprehended their stupefaction even without eyesight. It spoke again, the noise still omnipresent but softer, akin to the voice of a normal human.

    ¡®Ah. I appear to have been overzealous and overeager in my awakening. Apologies Song Spinner.¡¯

    Mickie blinked slowly, coming back to himself.

    ¡®What was that?¡¯

    A strange sound came from the creature, a rhythmic hum that gave the impression of a chuckle.

    ¡®I am commonly called the Conductor. And who might you be?¡¯

    Confused and taken aback, Mickie responded.

    ¡®I¡¯m uh, I¡¯m Mickie.¡¯

    He glanced about him at the empty air.

    ¡®How are you doing that?¡¯

    The Conductor smiled.

    ¡®Mickie. A pleasure to put a name to the song. As for my manner of speech, it is just an adaptation I have developed as a means of communication.¡¯

    ¡®Seems like it can be used for a bit more than a chat. You felt that right?¡¯

    Miz-Mag seemed wary of the Kindle Kin before them. While Mickie did not respond to his companion, he had to agree. That sound had been more than verbal communication, akin to the song of war if less subtle in effect.

    ¡®Spinner? Why are you calling me that?¡¯

    The Conductor took a couple of slow steps towards him.

    ¡®It is the title given to you by my people. One to those who have provided new songs for our collective harmony.¡¯

    Mickie furrowed his brows.

    ¡®I never gave any song, and if I did how would you know? You¡¯ve been locked up this whole time.¡¯

    Milky eyes looked past him towards a nearby wall.

    ¡®Try as they might, the demons never truly could disconnect me from the greater whole. Even locked away I could hear the music of my people.¡¯

    The world trembled as the voice darkened.

    ¡®And their pain.¡¯

    Mickie took a nervous step back, even as the voice softened once more.

    ¡®But you gave them a chance, and then you showed them a path. Tell me, do you not recall a moment communing with my kind?¡¯

    A memory surfaced, one in which a Kindle Kin with green eyes had taken his hand and hummed to him. Apparently, it had heard something within him during those brief moments.

    ¡®So, I somehow gave your people a song? What song? Why does it even matter?¡¯

    The milky eyes disappeared for a moment as the Kindle Kin slowly blinked.

    ¡®To our kind, songs are more than sound. They are intent, drive, and meaning. They are how we interacted with the world. When you communed with that young worker you were imparted with, let us say, a snapshot of their being. In turn they were imparted with one of yours.

    For all that the Conductor was blind, Mickie felt like it was staring straight at him.

    ¡®And your song, was one of war.¡¯

    It suddenly clicked, why the song of the rising Kindle Kin seemed somewhat familiar, and why it had such an effect on him.

    ¡®So, the song they¡¯ve been singing, its mine?¡¯

    The grey head shook.

    ¡®Not yours, but not entirely ours either. You spun them a song of conflict and my people listened. You gave them the basis upon which they built their own song. I suppose you could call it a collaboration.¡¯

    It made sense in a way. Though now he was wondering what his own song sounded like. If he heard it would the effects be like the Kindle Kin war song but stronger? Did he even want to find out?

    ¡®Is the effect the song had on me normal?¡¯

    ¡®Seemed freaky to me kid. That was one hell of a show you put on outside.¡¯

    For the most part, Miz-Mag had been content to remain silent. Yet his companion still felt the need to add inane commentary to their conversation. Clearly the Conductor could not see the diminutive devil, because the grey figure spoke as if there had been no interruption.

    ¡®To an extent it was. Though I might have tweaked the tune slightly.¡¯

    The Kindle Kin sounded almost apologetic as it spoke, it made him suspicious.

    ¡®What do you mean by that?¡¯

    Already, Mickie had an idea what the creature was going to say. Though he wanted it confirmed. A sound akin to a sigh echoed through the prisoner¡¯s room.

    ¡®I needed to escape. Simply put, even with all the opportunity you gave my people, they are losing this fight.¡¯

    The blind eyes stared unseeing into a wall.

    ¡®We may sing the song, but we are not truly creatures of war. Even knowing the demons have laid traps, my kind walk straight into them.¡¯

    As the Conductor continued its words gained a weight that was almost physical, reverberating through the surrounds.

    ¡®They needed direction. Someone to steer the tune of their song towards victory. It was something they recognised, and so they have been attempting to reach me, unsuccessfully of course.¡¯

    It had been silent for some time; the war song having stopped with the return of the Conductor. Yet now Mickie started to hear something new, a deep base thudding, rhythmically shaking the palace.

    ¡®It would not have been enough. Even with your assistance.¡¯

    A song was rising. Something different from the grinding clamour of war. This was slower, yet unyielding.

    ¡®And then I felt you. Even silenced I could see the song in you. So, I called to you through it. Played on your link to the music to draw you in. To set me free.¡¯

    The thumping tune reached an unrelenting plateau, filling the air with the force of a rolling thunderclap.

    ¡®I apologise for using the song in such a manner. In the end however, this serves both our ends. I can hear the need for chaos caused within you.¡¯

    Mickie could feel the pull of this new song. It was not one of anger and fury, but the constant pounding of freedom, driven by the need to fight.

    ¡®Now I am loose I can be the hand to guide the blade. We will route Rainzell, and shred the remnants of that insidious machine.¡¯

    Unsure how to feel about all this, Mickie glanced to Miz-Mag. His companion shrugged and spoke loudly over the thrumming song.

    ¡®I mean, we did need a distraction kid. This is about as good as it gets.¡¯

    The demon turned towards the room¡¯s exit.

    ¡®Though I¡¯d say we should be getting a move on, probably won¡¯t be long before the imps find the mess you left outside. We want to be well clear before then.¡¯

    Mickie nodded his acknowledgement and turned to leave. In retrospect his actions assaulting the prison had been entirely rational. The moment Miz-Mag had sabotaged the silencing device the war song had pounced on his psyche. He thought of that old man they met in the blocked-up warehouse. Had it been the cunning geezer¡¯s hope that something like this might happen? The man had mentioned having seen the enslavement of the Kindle Kin, so perhaps he knew of the Conductor¡¯s imprisonment. Perhaps he could even somehow notice the link between Mickie and the war song. As the duo reached the door a voice rang clearly from the surrounding air, speaking over the thumping music as if it was not there.

    ¡®Are you leaving already Song Spinner?¡¯

    Turning, Mickie found the Conductor standing with an expectant tilt to its head.

    ¡®Yeah. Good luck with your fight and all that. I¡¯ve got places to be.¡¯

    He needed to ensure that he took advantage of the upcoming madness to slip out of the palace. The blind Kindle Kin behind him might be a sitting duck, left alone in its prison, though he doubted it was helpless. At the very least the being seemed aware of its surroundings. It also had those strange speaking abilities. It was entirely possible the Conductor could attack without moving, simply generating enough noise to drop any opponent.

    ¡®Curious. I thought you would stay to fight rather than move on.¡¯

    The voice did indeed sound interested. Mickie, however, did not feel like sticking around to explain himself. He stepped into the bloody hallway beyond the prison and froze. Figures had come into sight at the passage junction. Before even registering who had arrived, his brand burned, and a gun was in his hand. However, it was not demons standing at the end of the hall, but humans. Three individuals, frozen at the grizzly carnage of the blockade. Mickie¡¯s eyes met the horrified gaze of a young man and woman, then settled on a familiar, wrinkled face.

    ¡®Well, boy. I expected something, but you certainly knocked it out of the park.¡¯

    ¡®Hello again, old man.¡¯

    It was the same aged individual that pointed him towards the Conductor. If he had any doubts about this man knowing what had been locked up here, they were now expelled. Mickie lowered his gun but did not turn away from the trio. Even if freeing the Conductor had been to his advantage, he was unwilling to trust that the cunning fox had no further plans.

    ¡®Interesting gun you got there. Did I see you summon it just now?¡¯

    Mickie realised that he had not shown the old palace worker his weapon in their first encounter. While he was not normally hesitant when displaying the unique firearm, something in the aged expression gave him pause. The old man was squinting at the gun intently, a furrow creasing his brow as sharp eyes took in the shaped metal. Instead of answering Mickie opted to ask a question of his own.

    ¡®What are you doing here? I thought you weren¡¯t willing to risk anyone on a scheme like this?¡¯

    The younger pair of the trio were looking between the bloody man and their leader, expressions a mix of confusion and concern. These two clearly weren¡¯t in on whatever the old man had been planning. Mickie wondered why he had even brought them along. The wily worker had noticed his deflection, yet only smiled and gave an answer.

    ¡®That would be because the song stopped boy. Only one thing that can stop the Kindle Kin so completely once they get going.¡¯

    The old man¡¯s eyes finally left the strange gun to observe the prison beyond. Glancing back, Mickie found the Conductor approaching the opening, head tilted slightly. The thudding song around them quieted as the blind creature reached his side.

    ¡®Karsus, is that your voice I hear? How are you not with the river yet?¡¯

    While Mickie had gotten accustomed to the strange speech of the Kindle Kin, the other younger humans clearly had not. They turned their heads about with wide eyes, looking for the sound¡¯s source while the old man grinned broadly.

    ¡®It is me, old friend. The river has not managed to claim me quite yet. Now you¡¯re back we might have a chance against the Palace Lord.¡¯

    Without a shred of hesitation, the Kindle Kin stepped into the messy debris field Mickie had created. It weaved through remnants of metal barricades, stepping around lifeless imps as if it could see them. With everyone so distracted by the Conductor, he took the opportunity to subtly dismiss his gun. He had not been a fan of how interested the old man was in it. Once again empty handed, Mickie followed the freed prisoner to approach the trio of humans. The Conductor and Karsus were the only individuals in the small group that stood near one another, the younger humans keeping a wary distance.

    ¡®It is good to see you Con, though I did not completely bank on your getting free. I¡¯ve had people working on clearing passages for some time now. Soon enough we can flood the upper levels.¡¯

    While the Kindle Kin and human seemed friendly, Mickie heard something in Karsus¡¯ tone. He had spoken not like an old companion, but as a privileged officer in a chain of command. There was a certain subservience in the way the old man relayed his actions. Like he was reporting rather than simply informing.

    ¡®Good. We will need to create as many gaps in the defence as possible. I will direct the kin through the song to coordinate efforts. Can you direct your people to the tunnels I indicate?¡¯

    The Conductor spoke the question as if it already knew the answer. Sure enough, Karsus was quick to respond.

    ¡®Of course, easily done.¡¯

    Immediately the aged human spun to face his young followers.

    ¡®You two. This is the task I spoke of. Grab some of those guns.¡¯

    He waved a hand in the direction of Mickie¡¯s fight.

    ¡®And go where the Conductor tells you to. Spread the word and hand out weapons. It¡¯s time to crack this egg.¡¯

    The duo jumped to obey and scuttled forward. Mickie was given a wide berth as they scuttled past, heading for some dropped rifles and upended ammunition. Having decided he had delayed long enough, Mickie walked by the scheming human and Kindle Kin. As he passed, Karsus turned in his direction, eyes panning up from gloved hands to squint at his face. The old man was suspicious, most likely as to where the gun had gone.

    ¡®Where are you off to?¡¯

    Mickie gave a shrug in reply. He had already been lured into freeing the Conductor, he would not be hanging around to get sent on another errand.

    ¡®Got stuff to do old boy. Have fun in your rebellion though, can¡¯t say I don¡¯t appreciate the effort.¡¯

    All he got in response was narrowed eyes. Not that he cared, it didn¡¯t matter how sure Karsus was that he was up to something. Soon enough, Mickie would be gone from the palace and leave this whole conflict behind him. Making it to the hall¡¯s intersection, he paused to get instructions from Miz-Mag when the air vibrated, and a voice spoke from nothing.

    ¡®A shame that you are leaving.¡¯

    Glancing over his shoulder, Mickie found the Conductor¡¯s milky eyes turned in his direction.

    ¡®Remember, Song Spinner. We of the kin owe you a debt. It has been woven into the strands of our harmony. We will never forget.¡¯

    For the brief time Mickie had known the blind leader, the Conductor had seemed aloof. Rarely showing emotion outside of small glimpses. Now however, Mickie could hear the sincerity in its projected voice. He gave a firm nod of acknowledgement, then realised the Kindle Kin was supposedly blind.

    ¡®Right. Maybe I¡¯ll even live long enough to collect on that debt. Who knows?¡¯

    The space around him thrummed with a chuckle.

    ¡®Farwell Mickie.¡¯

    He turned back to the path and walked away.

    <hr>

    The palace felt abandoned as the tiny demon and ragged human ran through its halls. The new song of the Kindle Kin reverberated through the walls, drowning any smaller sounds. As a result, the duo almost failed to notice the demonic force approaching before it was too late. They rounded a bend in the passage when Miz-Mag suddenly hauled on Mickie¡¯s ear.

    ¡®Kid, demons! Coming fast!¡¯

    Mickie instantly reacted, pouncing upon the nearest door, and bursting through the threshold. He got it closed just in time as the faint sound of footsteps reached them. It appeared to be quite the force, all moving away from the stairwell lobby. Hopefully, it was the remnants of the guard stationed near their exit. As the noise of the passing force was swallowed by the song, Mickie glanced about the room they had entered. The space was some form of public restroom, sinks by one wall and cubicles against another. He was not even sure the imps needed to use the facilities, he certainly hadn¡¯t since arriving in Hell. There was also was no signage or distinguishing features in the hall outside to indicate the function of this particular room. Mickie flicked a lock of hair from his eyes with a breath.

    So much about this palace made no sense. It was as if the entire thing was constructed by stacking different buildings together. There had been the stone dungeon, the grey office space of administration, and now the opulent fa?ade of the upper levels. All of it built with seemingly no cohesive plan or thought to accessibility. If Mickie had not had a guide to help him up the various floors, he would have gotten lost within the depths.

    Turning to the exit of the restroom, he wondered if that was the point. A huge palace filled with pathways as twisted as its occupants. The sort of building that swallows people whole and never lets them go. He stepped into the empty hall, clicking the door shut. Well, he was clambering out of the monster¡¯s maw, and if luck provided, there were no more demons left to stop him.

    The remainder of the journey to the lobby was devoid of imps, and the pair made rapid progress through the opulent halls. Soon enough they turned a corner and discovered a hall ending in an open chamber. Slowing to a walk, Mickie approached the lobby. From a distance he could not make out any demons, but after his last encounter at the staircase caution was certainly warranted. The huge room housing the spiralling stairs to the eighth circle was just as he remembered. So opulent it bordered on gawdy with pristine floors that looked to never have seen dirt. Most importantly however, it was completely empty.

    Miz-Mag was vibrating with excitement on his shoulder, the tiny fiend finally at the threshold of escape. With a slowness born of wary caution, Mickie took his first step into the lobby. Then he took another. And one more. Nothing happened; no demons, no distant voices, no evil machines. Just a clear shot at an exit. In moments he was running, a dash for the stairs backed by a song that thumped with freedom. The music of the Kindle Kin carried him forward, onwards to the next circle. Then it would be next, and the next until Mickie was free of this wretched realm.

    Midway to the stairs, something shifted in the air, the ever-present song suddenly going quiet. His bounding steps faltered, and Mickie almost tripped as he came to a stumbling halt. Silence expanded about him like fog, pushing back the music until it was little more than a murmur. This was not the smothering stillness of the artificial silence. No, this quiet had a presence to it, as if the air had been commanded to settle and then made to obey. Mickie turned to the various entrances of the lobby, searching for a source. If it only entered now, he could still make the stairs. They were close, nothing could catch him before he got out. And yet, it was when Mickie turned to the leave that he saw it. Not coming into the room from an opulent passage but descending from the domed ceiling. An insectoid creature, broad as the stairs on which it walked, with segments of brown carapace held aloft by broad, pointed limbs. The front of the monster held a human torso, an armoured amalgamation of insect and man. Its head was just like another Mickie had seen, twitching mandibles below human eyes. Four arms emerged from huge shoulders, ending in gleaming fists of shiny chitin.

    With growing dread, Mickie realised not all the fists were empty. One armoured ball held a figure with dark hair, dressed in ragged working garb. The Palace Lord descended with a grace its massive frame would not suggest. Innumerable carapace segments undulating in a disturbing rhythm as it cleared the staircase and coiled about it like a snake. In moments Mickie¡¯s destination was blocked off by an impenetrable wall of armoured plating. On his shoulder Miz-Mag had shifted from quivering in excitement, to shaking in terror.

    ¡®Oh, by the blood, kid it¡¯s here. We need to run. We need to get away.¡¯

    Run to what? Run to were? This was the only exit, behind them was a demon infested warzone. Mickie wanted to scream in frustration. Why was Rainzell here? Its domain was quite literally overrun by an invading force. The leader of which had just escaped confinement. There was no reason for it to stand watch over the stairwell. No reason but the limp figure clenched in a monstrous fist. On the creature¡¯s forehead something moved. An shield of interlocking plates folded into one another to reveal the Palace Lord¡¯s third eye. Not one of a human, but shining, facetted, a pristine gemstone that contained a dark, shifting pupil. Mickie might not have even thought it an eye, if not for the feeling the orb invoked. As the pure crystal came into view he felt as if the attention of an evil god was upon him. It rooted him to the spot, nothing but a small animal before a terrifying beast. Instinctual fight or flight was overcome with startled immobilisation.

    ¡®Finally. The little rat delivers itself unto me. And what it this? It appears the vermin was carrying a familiar flee.¡¯

    The voice was deep, filling the enforced silence and stomping upon the Kindle Kin¡¯s lethargic melody. It came from within the dark maw of the Palace Lord, echoing up from its gullets to fill the domed lobby. On Mickie¡¯s shoulder Miz-Mag folded at the sound of it, the demon terrified by the unnerving monstrous being before them.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡®Tell me tiny bug, are you what has allowed this sickness to invade my halls? You, who allowed this rodent to squirm so fiercely, for so long?¡¯

    His companion did not answer, could not, such was its terror. Mickie however, pushed back the monster¡¯s impossible presence. The demon had held is attention, but now all he could see was the limp figure in its grasp.

    ¡®So you¡¯re the Palace Lord then. How about you answer something for me? Why is it the boss is just sitting back while its home is overun? Not exactly good leadership practice.¡¯

    Mandibles clicked in a show of disturbing humour.

    ¡®Come now. You think the Kindle Kin truly pose a threat? I will crush their song when the time comes, and the Mechanist shall slip the chain back about their necks.¡¯

    Rainzell¡¯s tone grew darker.

    ¡®The Conductor, however. That grey skinned cretin will take significant effort to get back under control. You should not have set it free.¡¯

    With a flick of the wrist the Palace Lord abruptly tossed its limp captive to the floor. The woman hit the tiles with a meaty thud, lying in a boneless heap. Mickie looked at his friend Aria, trying to gauge if she was alive.

    ¡®Foolish slave. It is not uncommon for mortals to get lofty ideas about their standing. It appeared this one had the misfortune of meeting you.¡¯

    Mickie did not reply, just watching the pile of hair and worn cloth.

    ¡®The human gave you up you know. A lesson in loyalty rat, all of your kind are prone to betrayal. You will sell one another out after little more than a threat.¡¯

    The heat of anger bloomed within the branded man, and he met the eyes of the Palace Lord. He did not blame Aria for talking. Everyone talked eventually. He just hoped she had talked early enough to avoid the worst of the suffering. From the outside she appeared mostly intact, signs of damaged contained to torn clothes and small injuries. Yet the older woman did not rise from the floor. Mickie could only hope she was still breathing.

    ¡®Understand, little rat, that there are some barriers you cannot breach. We demons are not made equal. You might strike fear into the imps, yet to those of a higher order you are nothing but a nuisance.¡¯

    The fire in Mickie¡¯s gut was stoked. He sneered at the monstrous insect.

    ¡®The Mechanist sure was something, and yet I turned its body to scrap.¡¯

    A thought occurred to him, a thread he could pull upon.

    ¡®And I seem to recall another bug like you. Down in the Evergaol. That creature seemed to think it was hot stuff too.¡¯

    A triple barrelled gun was called into his hand.

    ¡®At least until I turned it into dog food.¡¯

    The Palace Lord did not react as Mickie intended. Instead of an anger its mandibles clicked once more in a creepy laugh.

    ¡®Trying to make me mad rat? How foolish you are. I said demons were not made equal. You might have killed one of my spawn. Yet it was but an inferior cast-off. The fact it fell to you proves it.¡¯

    Huge chitinous arms flexed in anticipation.

    ¡®As for the Mechanist. Well, it is apparent you had assistance.¡¯

    Oversized human eyes focussed upon the spot where Miz-Mag huddled.

    ¡®It will be good to finally squish you bug. A century of your stink has been far too long.¡¯

    Finally, Miz-Mag was roused enough to squeak an angry response.

    ¡®Why will you never let me past? I¡¯m a demon too. Why do you always stop me?¡¯

    For some reason, that question sparked anger in the old monster. Innumerable legs stomped and clacked in anger as Rainzell replied.

    ¡®Because I can see it in you. Something that should not be. That should never be again. You reek of it. Of the Soul Lord.¡¯

    On the floor Aria¡¯s form shifted as she roused. The Palace lord threw Mickie¡¯s friend a look but paid her little mind.

    ¡®I could never allow a remnant of that traitor to remain. You might be hard to catch, little flee, but I am persistent. And now you have made a mistake.¡¯

    It turned its creepy gaze on Mickie once more.

    ¡®Binding yourself to a mortal such as this. A fragile sack of flesh that will drag you to the river, gone for good.¡¯

    Miz-Mag seemed to be growing angrier by the moment.

    ¡®Screw you! We¡¯ll turn you to paste, just like we did with all the others. Then we¡¯ll do the same with every other circle. Kid! Kick its ass!¡¯

    The tirade was met with amusement from the Palace Lord but fell on deaf ears with Mickie. His focus was entirely on the woozy form of Aria as she slowly sat up. There was a moment of confusion as the woman turned about, followed by a look of horror as she noted both Mickie and Rainzell. Then came an expression he had not expected. One of resignation. The huge insect blocking their path also noted his friend¡¯s awakening. Its eyes flicked to her before returning to Mickie.¡¯

    ¡®So, the foolish slave awakens. I suppose you wonder why I brought it along, little rat. You see, I felt a demonstration was required.¡¯

    Behind Aria a monstrous leg rose, clawed point gleaming in preparation for a strike. Mickie swallowed hard. He had figured it was going to be something like this. From where he stood there was no chance of reaching the older woman before the palace lord skewered her. Aria however, did not look to her approaching demise, instead meeting Mickie¡¯s eyes. All he saw in her was determination.

    ¡®Mickie, I¡¯m sorry.¡¯

    Her voice was raspy, but firm. Rainzell gave the woman an interested look as she spoke. The kind a cat might give a bug struggling on the floor.

    ¡®Oh. You wish to speak slave? A final epitaph perhaps? Go on then.¡¯

    Aria did not look away from Mickie. She appeared to be fiddling about with something under her shirt. It was not something he could make out, hunched as she was on the floor.

    ¡®Mickie. They got me. I made it back to the warehouse, but they knew. Probably got ratted out.¡¯

    She paused to cough roughly. When Aria resumed speaking her hands had stopped their hidden fidgeting.

    ¡®I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter now.¡¯

    Another bout of coughing had her gasping for air.

    ¡®Mickie, can I ask you to do something?¡¯

    There was finality in the question. The weight given to a request that one never expected to see fulfilled. All Mickie could give in response was a nod.

    ¡®Show them for me. Show them we are more than what they think of us. Take back some of the blood that th¡­¡¯

    A huge claw descended in a blur. It connected with Aria¡¯s back like an oversized pickaxe and slammed her against the floor. With hardly more than a gasp, the older woman was cut-off mid-sentence. A razor-sharp tip parted her flesh like a hole punch through paper, leaving his friend skewered on a length of bloody chitin. The Palace Lord had not even let her finish.

    ¡®I tire of this prattle.¡¯

    The leg rose and gave a loathsome flick, sending the corpse of Mickie¡¯s only friend in Hell rolling across the pristine tiles. A bloody streak marked her passage, a crimson ribbon connecting her to the monstrous insect. Blood was rapidly pooling about the body, the wound in her back an open sluice-gate. Mickie took it all in with a familiar emptiness inside him. Except now the walls of his hollow core shook from the pressure outside. All of Hell, all he had seen and done, his death, it was crushing him.

    Then, as if in a daze, Mickie noticed something on the floor by Rainzell¡¯s bloody claw. It was small, cylindrical, and had a green button on the top. He squinted at the familiar object. The last time Mickie had seen one of these it was when he had hidden it in the warehouse. The very same warehouse that Aria had returned to after his capture. Somehow, someway, his friend had both found the final explosive, and managed to hide it on her person until this point. Past the demons who had beaten and interrogated her, under the ever-seeing eye of the Palace Lord itself. All to this point, to give him a chance and make a request. Mickie looked up into the eyes of the monstrous insect. For such a seemingly omnipotent being it had the same flaw as every other denizen of Hell. A flaw borne of unchallenged power and impossible ego. It could not help but underestimate humans.

    With a flash the bomb went off right beside Rainzell¡¯s glistening leg, and Mickie was blow backwards in a flash of light.

    <hr>

    The boy sat curled up on his bed, bloody fingers gripping his elbows as he rocked slowly back and forth, back and forth. It was too much, all of it too much. The pain in his wrist from holding the weapon, the warm feeling of blood against his toes. He could not even cry. Only sit, sit and rock.

    Back and forth. Back and¡­

    A hand touched his shoulder. The boy turned to find a face looking down at him with concern. A face that should have been cold, with its sharp angles and piercing eyes. Except to him it was the kindest face in the world.

    ¡®Lu¡­¡¯

    He got no further before a sob broke free. The boy sobbed into the arms of the girl, heaving breaths as he attempted to regain control.

    ¡®Mik, what are you doing? You can¡¯t cry like this. You know how it will be if she sees you.¡¯

    ¡®I can¡¯t help it.¡¯

    The words came blubbering out between sobs.

    ¡®It¡¯s too much. Too much.¡¯

    She stroked his hair gently.

    ¡®I know. You have to remember what I told you. You need to pack it away.¡¯

    ¡®Darius told me packing it away is bad for you.¡¯

    There was a soft laugh.

    ¡®Well Darius is a brick who hasn¡¯t felt real emotions in decades. He doesn¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to be us. What it takes for us to survive.¡¯

    With a few steadying breaths the boy stopped his balling and turned to the girl. Looking into her gentle eyes.

    ¡®I tried to lock it down. Like you said. I did. But it just comes back up. Why is she like this Lu? Why is she?¡¯

    The girl shushed him as his voice rose in heated anger.

    ¡®Careful Mik. Careful. She is how she is. We can¡¯t stop the storms now, can we?¡¯

    He frowned and made to speak.

    ¡®But¡­¡¯

    ¡®I know she isn¡¯t a storm you silly boy. But it does not change the fact that it only gets worse if we go against her.¡¯

    Strong hands pushed him to an arm¡¯s length.

    ¡®And if she catches you like this, she will punish you. So, you need to lock it all up. You hear me?¡¯

    ¡®But I can¡¯t.¡¯

    He whined with wobbly lip.

    ¡®It always becomes too much in the end.¡¯

    The girl gave him a thoughtful look.

    ¡®Then maybe you need to do something else.¡¯

    ¡®Something else?¡¯

    He got an affirming nod.

    ¡®Yes. Instead of keeping it down, how about you never let it in. Can you try that for me?¡¯

    The boy voiced a shaky agreement.

    ¡®Okay.¡¯

    ¡®Good boy. Now I want you to picture yourself as an empty space, like a ball with nothing in it. Can you do that for me?¡¯

    He nodded and did as he was bid.

    <hr>

    The recollection faded as the world came into focus, three spiralling stairs superimposing on one another to create a cohesive whole. With a pounding head Mickie sat up and took in his surroundings. The lobby was the same for the most part, the explosion having been contained to its centre. The staircase was surprisingly undamaged by the blast, though the same could not be said of the Palace Lord. Rainzell had been torn almost in half, its torso held to the bulk of its insectile form by a stretch of ragged flesh. Most of the carapace segment before the human portion was gone, taking both arms on one side with it. The crystal eye sat half lidded and unfocussed while the human pair rolled about in delirium. Below the torso a set of spiked legs were attempting to scramble along the floor. The remainder of the partially attached body appeared uncooperative however, shifting and twitching in random directions.

    Mickie judged the creature dazed, but not yet out for the count. It would be best to finish things before the insect could regain its bearings. Standing, he noted a huddled ball of red in his arms. Miz-Mag seemed to become aware of its position at the same time he did. The demon immediately sprung upright and clambered to its usual spot on his shoulder. It appeared to be saying something, though Mickie could not make it out over the ringing in his ears. Slowly, the duo made their way towards the disoriented Palace Lord. They passed the still form of Aria, further bloodstains marking her second journey across the tiles. Sound gradually returned in the form of the Kindle Kin¡¯s song, no longer supressed by the Palace Lord.

    It appeared the huge monster was beginning to regain control itself. Even with a large chunk of its body gone, Rainzell was an old and powerful demon. Not a creature to die easy. At Miz-Mag¡¯s urging Mickie took up a stumbling jog, only to come to a halt when a series of thudding clangs reverberated through the chamber. The sound of the surrounding song was muffled, and it did not take Mickie long to find the cause. All the exits to the lobby had been sealed by walls of dark steel. The space was enclosed but for the staircase out. The fog in Mickie¡¯s mind had not yet cleared enough to properly process the change when a voice echoed through the chamber. A feminine sound, dead as salted earth.

    ¡®Are you there, my wayward creature?¡¯

    Throughout the chamber pandemonium erupted as tiles shattered and domed portions of the ceiling fell away. From the dark emerged long, sinuous tentacles of ropey cable. Bending and twisting they rose into the air, topped with claws, cameras, blades, and innumerable other gleaming tools. The room became a forest of snaking arms within moments, a horde of deadly obstacles between him and the Palace Lord.

    ¡®Did you think you could kill me, little mortal?¡¯

    The prehensile appendages began sweeping the chamber, searching for a hidden human.

    ¡®Did you not realise that I am the palace itself? Impossible for you to ever destroy.¡¯

    At the foot of the spiralling stairs the Palace Lord let lose its clicking laugh. Human eyes regained focus to stare straight at Mickie.

    ¡®Looks like play times over human.¡¯

    The remnants of the armoured torso straightened even as green ichor ran from brutal wounds.

    ¡®Machine. I will inform you of its location. You will take this one alive. I want to impart a le¡­¡¯

    As one of Rainzell¡¯s claws had descended on Aria, a huge black mass of coils now fell upon the unsuspecting Palace Lord. The bundle split as it reached the battered insectoid body, striking the monster and cutting it off with a pained roar.

    ¡®Machine! What are you doing?¡¯

    The black tentacles were not just striking at the body but seemed to be digging into its very flesh. Mickie would have liked to say he moved forward while the two titans struggled. However, the sight of it had him rooted to the spot in disturbed horror.

    ¡®You are too weak to suppress me. Too weak to resist. I will make better use of this form.¡¯

    With a wet tear the front segment of the Palace Lord was pulled away, its mandibles open in a roar of pain. The cry ended abruptly as a limb of dark cable sunk into its mouth, making the insect¡¯s human eyes bulge and its body seize.

    ¡®I tire of having so much filth within my body. It is time to make myself clean. No more humans, no more demons, and no more singers. Only me and my children.¡¯

    The muffled chitinous mass was lifted into the air by strings that burrowed into the meat of its body. Rainzell appeared to be seizing up, losing an impossible battle for control. From behind the barriers sealing the lobby the song was growing closer. Closer and louder.

    ¡®Such sound. It grates upon me. Do they think they can hunt me with it? When they are in my palace?¡¯

    Two broad tentacles near the stairs began to glow with blood red runes. Immediately, the sound in the chamber was replaced by absolute silence. It appeared the robot could generate quiet of its own. As the rising song was smothered, the Palace Lord grew rigid in the nest of cables, then went limp. In a stillness of its own making, the Mechanist spoke.

    ¡®There, it is done. I shall make better use of your gifts.¡¯

    With a jerking twist Rainzell¡¯s head snapped upwards to focus its crystal eye upon Mickie. The two human eyes rolled in their sockets, uncoordinated and disturbing.

    ¡®Hello little creature. I can see you once more.¡¯

    The horror of the scene gripped the duo, and they stood frozen, looking at the possessed remains of the Palace Lord. It was too much for Mickie. This whole ordeal was too much. Aria, this palace, the wastes beyond.

    ¡®And what is this. A demon, so small, so curious.¡¯

    Miz-Mag shook on his shoulder, terror gripping the tiny demon. The overwhelming flood threatened to swallow Mickie, just as it used to when he had been little. During his time in Hell, he had felt it on occasion. The hollow within he had built. That he had spent his life strengthening until nothing could phase him. It had taken a lot to see the hollow shattered. But once it had, all Mickie had wanted to do was leave it behind.

    ¡®Perhaps I shall take the small one. Is it you that made the deal tiny demon? Are you connected to my most hated father?¡¯

    For a time, he had gotten to experience it. A life of feeling, a life where he would not drown in himself for if he did not shut the world out. Except he had been hollow when he died, and in death he found himself empty still. As it turned out you could not just tear down the walls. They were always there. Always waiting.

    On his shoulder Miz-Mag was screaming vitriol that never left its tiny jaws. The silencing field was total, but his tiny companion did not seem to mind as it wailed into the empty air. He scooped the fiend gently from his shoulder, holding the demon at eye level.

    ¡®Oh? Will you offer it to me mortal? Do you think that will save you?¡¯

    The robotic tone went ignored as Mickie looked into the golden eyes of his companion. He pointed at the Mechanist and made a fist. He pointed at Miz-Mag, and waved a hand out of sight. The fiend seemed to understand. It settled its panic fuelled rage and gave him an uncertain look. In his partner¡¯s red features Mickie saw wariness. Not of him, but of the world around them. The demon had spent a century unseen within these labyrinthine halls. One hundred years with no goal but to leave. Now its only shot of escape was sealed behind a wall of twisting cable. The demon tensed for a moment, then sagged with a breath. Its next look was a new one. Miz-Mag met his eyes and in the instant before the demon vanished Mickie saw the pleading desperation within them. Then it was gone with the demon, leaving his hand empty.

    ¡®The creature? Where has it gone? Mortal, what did you do?¡¯

    The cold voice sounded almost annoyed that its object of curiosity had vanished. Mickie found it strange that the Mechanist was asking so many questions when it had silenced everything but itself. Perhaps the machine had not survived their last encounter completely unscathed. It did seem like there were a few screws loose in the old bag of bolts. All about him the sinuous arms were coiling, pulling back in preparation to strike. It appeared the Mechanist was done playing its games. That was fine, Mickie was just about done screwing around as well. It was time for him to accept the reality of his situation. Hell would destroy him if he was not hard. It would drown him in a torrent of misery before sending what remained to the abyss. He needed to shut it all out. Just like his sister had taught him to.

    He took a slow breath, a steady breath. The hollow expanded with his lungs. Like a ship in the fog it had always been there, lurking, out of sight. Now it swallowed him whole. As Mickie breathed out, he let it all go. The pain, the fear, the wonder, and the triumph. Everything was gone but for one emotion. For he had discovered early on that you could not operate without fuel. Something had to burn so the body could survive, and nothing sparked quite as hot as rage.

    The scalding heat flowed through him like a river, and Mickie was moving in an instant. From his stationary position he was on the first grasping fusions of rubber and steel in moments. So fast that it almost took the Mechanist by surprise. Two coiled tentacles launched towards him, one a grasping claw and the other a sharpened metal blade.

    Mickie shot the claw, scattering metal and sending the limb behind it awry. The moment he fired he dismissed the gun, already noting the time until it reloaded. Instead of ducking away from the bladed arm he rolled towards it. The sharpened steel whispered past his shoulders and put Mickie alongside the extended tentacle. He was up and running before the appendage could curl back in to strike him, already noting a camera swinging in from the right. It was attached to a thick mass of cabling that produced force with minimal control. Mickie slid low as the camera flew by and was immediately forced to jump as bladed arm came on its return swing. The weapon jerked to a stop as he sailed free, caught on its thicker sibling.

    ¡®No wonder you evaded me mortal. So slippery, an eel in my pipes.¡¯

    The ranting of the machine was nothing to him, all that mattered was stairs. A trio of tentacles protruded from a single hole in the floor, each tipped with a sparking taser. It would be safer to go around, but safety was not the priority. Speed was. As Mickie came into range the three limbs descended upon him. Knowing he could not dodge them all, the branded man instead ducked past one and grasped the other two as they closed. He did not try to halt their strike but redirected it, driving the sparking weapons into one another. While he had been holding the right tentacle by its rubber body, his left hand grasped the metal taser. An electrical charge jolted Mickie even as he released the cables and continued to run. The burn of it was only fuel to the flame and he snarled while leaping the taser trio¡¯s hole. Landing in a sprint he was instantly focussed on the next set of sinuous barriers. So focussed, in fact, that Mickie failed to notice the descending hook until it was almost too late.

    In his mad dash along the floor, he had forgotten that there were limbs dangling from the distant ceiling. One of these fell upon him now, aiming to trap him on a curved length of steel. Mickie rolled forward as a line of ice slid down his back. The momentary distraction put him within reach of the other ground dwelling appendages and two claws closed in to grasp him. He evaded one but the second caught his calf. Even as the tentacle sent Mickie tumbling, he summoned a freshly reloaded gun and blasted it apart.

    ¡®How long can you squirm eel? I am endless in this castle.¡¯

    There was no respite and Mickie was forced to roll aside when a heavy ball of steel swung for his head. Instead of jumping to his feet and running away, Mickie heaved himself onto the chunk of metal. The broad mass of machinery behind the ball had been driving it towards him along the ground. He used that momentum now, getting his feet in position and launching from the ball as it slowed. A blade sailed narrowly by before Mickie was running once more, only one twisting barrier between him and the staircase. With one hand he reached down and tore the unattached claw from his leg. The removal cost him some flesh but let him move freely as the final tentacle arced towards him. It was topped with a strange tube and Mickie realised all to late what it was for.

    Flame roared from the limb to inundate him from the chest up. With a flinch the mortal closed his eyes, only to feel an uncomfortable heat. The anger driving him did not wait longer than that. Swift steps brought him close to the tentacle, and a swing drove the claw¡¯s remains into the flamethrower. Mickie was running for the stairs even as the flames licked up his undamaged chest.

    ¡®The fire? Was it the deal mortal? Do you think you can scamper away up the stairs?¡¯

    Before him lay the dead remains of the Palace Lord, large segments of insectile carapace that sat motionless about his escape route. As much as the fire failed to injure Mickie, it created an inconvenient obstruction to his vision. Upon reaching the corpse this meant he failed to notice the puddle of green ichor until he slipped and was tumbling through it. The goop served to douse the flames but left Mickie smelling a familiar kind of foul. He scrambled past the severed end of the insect and into a gap between coiled body segments. The possessed remains of the monster swivelled to follow him, cables bulging the chitinous plating.

    ¡®There will be no respite above. You will never reach the city.¡¯

    Mickie gripped a section of leg and hauled himself onto the dead limb before scrambling atop the body itself. Immediately a camera swung at him from above, but the ichor coated man was already jumping to the top of the next segment. Dead insect continued up the staircase, and Mickie took off along the Palace Lord¡¯s corpse instead of the steps it covered. Slithering tentacles gave chase while above a wall of rubber and steel was forming to trap him. He needed to move faster, yet the viscera coating his body made each step treacherous. With a silent and sudden rumble, the world shook and Mickie slipped in his climb. He contacted the ridged chitin of the dead insect hard and grasped an edge to avoid sliding further. The shaking did not last long, and soon Mickie was back on his feet and continuing upwards. Except it appeared the Mechanist had paused in its chase.

    ¡®What is this? My little toys? Have you have decided to come back to me?¡¯

    The new object of the mad machine¡¯s interest came into view as Mickie rounded a bend in the stairs. Beyond the sea of artificial limbs was a pillar of smoke, rising from a hole where there had once been a sealed passage. From its murky depths came hulking figure of dark steel, Kindle Kin hybrids that moved to engage the furthest twisting tentacles. Mickie was unwilling to waste his adversaries¡¯ distraction and the new arrivals fell out of sight as he ran.

    ¡®Oh? Do believe that you can destroy me? I thought you would have learnt by now; I am the master in these walls.¡¯

    Beneath him the tentacles had resumed their pursuit, though he would soon clear their reach. When next Mickie caught sight of the Kindle Kin a new scene was playing out. The metal hybrids had formed a curved wall that carved into the innumerable robotic limbs. The result was a safe zone surrounding their point of entry, a space that was filling with small creatures, grey and almost waddling on their stubby legs. It was the true Kindle Kin, those that worked within administration. They looked so fragile compared to their metal brethren and the Mechanist¡¯s tentacles. Mickie wondered what they were even doing here, how could something so small assist in a fight such as this?

    ¡®Ah the singers. You think you can attack me? Did I not find a solution to your prattle years ago?¡¯

    That gave Mickie pause, they could attack the Mechanist? And it dawned on him. A realisation that cascaded into plan, one that would guarantee a chance at escape. He hesitated, glancing towards the distant ceiling. It was blanketed by limbs of rubber and steel, the machine awaiting his arrival. It would be next to impossible to escape that way. The only way out, was through. Mickie turned to the possessed remains of Rainzell, his decision made.

    Coming level with the hanging grotesquery he shifted direction, running right for the ledge. Without hesitation the branded man launched himself into open air, sailing right for the crystal eyed corpse. The Mechanist was too slow in noticing him, only starting to move the bulky mass of chitin as he neared. It became clear that Mickie was likely to make the jump, so the robot instead lashed a nearby tentacle at him. A limb coated in red runes swung to strike him from the air, just as he had hoped it would. He twisted mid-air and grasped the silence enforcing appendage. It hit him with such force that Mickie almost failed to grab hold, his shoulders popping and a leg failing to gain purchase.

    Instead of trying to keep hold of the twisting tentacle he let go. The fall was substantial, but Mickie had arrested enough momentum to make the landing managable. With a grunt of exertion and a twinge of pain he hit the floor. A gun manifested in a scarred hand and Mickie rushed the base of the runed tentacle. His fall had placed him right by it, and before the Mechanist could do anything to react the branded man raised his weapon and fired.

    Plastic and steel were torn, half the limb gone in an instant. The appendage had been swinging around to strike him and now its own momentum worked against it. Remnants near the base gave out and the tentacle fell, red runes dying along its surface. Immediately there was a shift in the air, the universal quiet that gripped the chamber faltered as something took its place. Distant, yet ferocious, like beast howling at the gates. Music.

    Mickie glanced over to the second rune lined limb, it was still upright, twisting and folding in on itself. He cast a glance at the Kindle Kin, the metal giants still holding back the Mechanist. Past those fighters were fragile creatures of flesh and blood. It had to be them. Singing so loudly that one suppressor was not enough. The Mechanist had been droning something right before the distant noise started, but it was silent now. No more threats, no more taunts. It looked like Mickie had finally gotten to see the machine afraid. Now all that was left was to see it dead.

    He ran at the second and final silencer, even as all the tentacles that pursued him up the stairs shifted direction. Weapons came at him from all side, a veritable wave of deadly steel. A bulky camera whistled by his head and collided with a claw, sending them both off course. Mickie grasped a blade by the base and used it to block another, slipping past in the moment of collision. A claw reach from the ceiling and instead of dodging he reached past the steel fingers to grasp the plastic beyond. With a yank Mickie launched into the air and over a heavy metal ball.

    There was a vibration up his arm as the gun reloaded, he was close now. A hook cut at his side and Mickie danced left without slowing, the flash of pain as it scratched him going ignored. Then a blade bit into his leg as two dancing claws kept him occupied. Rather than resisting the edge he moved with it, feeling the scrape of steel on bone for only an instant before he was free once more. The pulsing runes were within range now, yet he could not fire. Twisting tendrils from other limbs obscured the air, obfuscating the sightlines and blocking any shot. Just a bit further.

    It was becoming harder to move, wounds accumulating on Mickie¡¯s body as he pushed deeper towards the final silencing tentacle. A wall of weapons was forming about him, enclosing him in a circle of death. The Mechanist knew what the Kindle Kin¡¯s song meant, and it threw everything at him to keep it at bay. As progress slowed Mickie felt frustration crack his empty insides. He was so close, yet the machine seemed intent to drown him in the plastic of its body. A massive ball of steel drove at him from above and Mickie barely managed to shift out of the way. The lumpen mass slammed into the tiled floor, peppering his legs with ceramic shards.

    While the attack would have flattened him if it had connected, the huge tentacle instead provided an opportunity. Mickie leapt atop the limb as it started to retract, his injured leg almost buckling as the ball rose once more. He ran across slick rubber as it moved, passing by the lesser limbs it had flattened while striking. A sparking taser came for him and Mickie dove forward, over the final few tentacles. He sprung up right before the runed limb as it struck at him, instantly ducking low to avoid it.

    ¡®Mortal.¡¯

    The cold voice sounded almost pleading, the sorrowful moan of a creature that saw its end at hand. Mickie jammed the lion¡¯s head right into the base of the tentacle. Limbs behind him reached, desperate to stop what was about to happen. The muffled song rose, a wolf scenting weakened prey. He pulled the trigger, the lion roared gold into the silence, and sound consumed the world.

 10 â€“ An Aria for the Damned

    The song was unlike any Mickie had heard from the Kindle Kin, a collective roar, discordant yet driven with purpose. There was an element to the sound beyond the physical, a weight that seemed to press upon something within him. It left Mickie incoherent for a time, lying on the broken floor as the world twisted and folded upon itself. Even as the music battered at his soul, an inherent part of the music conveyed an intent. He was not the one for which this song was performed. He was simply a bystander, whipped by the winds of the storm but not at its centre.

    Within him the hollow fractured under the mounting pressure, his natural defences crumbling under the weight on his soul. Mickie was flooded by emotions he had set aside, the pity, the pain and the grief. They swept through him, carried on a wave of foreign thoughts and emotions. The fury of the silent, the longing for direction, the agony of flesh unmade. It was the cumulative rage of the Kindle Kin, screamed at the Mechanist with such ferocity that the world quaked. Scenes danced across his mind, Aria¡¯s lifeless corpse flicked from a chitinous leg, a young boy lying dead on the floor, Lu¡¯s expression when he told her he was abandoning the family. And a room, white tiles, cold air. Cold as the barrel against the back of his head. The sound of tears. His sister Lucia¡¯s sobs. The sound of them rang louder than even the song. At the time he had been empty, pushed everything aside in a desperate grab for dignity at the end of his life. Now however, there was no distractions, no hollow. He felt the agony of the betrayal as if it was happening in real time. As if Lucia had the gun to his head at that very moment. The command to fire was muted, inconsequential compared to the person who followed it. When the shot came it was the roar of thunder, cutting through all other noise to leave his soul quivering.

    Then Mickie remembered something he though impossible to truly recall, the aftermath of his death.

    The world became a shifting realm of kaleidoscopic grayscale, an infinity sucked dry if its colour, yet still endless in the space between white and black. Through this murky water between life and death something had emerged. A clawed hand. Not much larger than his own, yet simultaneously domineering as a monster rising from the deep. It grasped him and pulled him down. Mickie was drawn into the depths, and the endless grey flayed him as he went.

    With the abruptness of a summer storm, the song suddenly quieted, dropping to a susurrus murmur. The alleviated pressure upon Mickie was like air to a drowning man. He desperately called upon the hollow and pushed aside the confusing recollection. Slowly the palace lobby came into focus, a forest of quivering black cables emerging from shattered floor tiles. The Mechanist appeared frozen, even more stunned than he had been, and showing no sign of recovery. Beyond the machines extensive reach was a wall of steel bodies, even now hacking down the unmoving tentacles. Mickie tried to rise but found his limbs weak, the combined battering of body and soul proving too much even for his demonic regeneration. The still corpse of Aria lay some distance away, and he started a pathetic crawl towards it.

    A change in the hybrid Kindle Kin brought the ragged man to a halt. They had stopped attacking and were now shifting aside to let something through. For a moment he glimpsed the mass of singers within, then the metal giants were resealing the gap as a figure emerged. Mickie recognized the Conductor by the milky white of its sightless eyes. The ancient being stepped into the shivering sea of limbs, unhurried and unafraid. As it walked the low tone of the song rose, a disquiet rhythm thumping with each step of the old singer. The rising volume put pressure on Mickie, and he had to concentrate to keep his head clear of unwanted emotions and memories. A ways into the forest of plastic and steel the blind Kindle Kin came to a halt. It simply stood for a spell, contemplating something in the ongoing music. Then the creature began to hum, low and resonant, with such intensity that Mickie could feel the ground shiver in response.

    Like a flock of birds, the other Kindle Kin dove into the rhythm of the Conductors tune. Their collective voice held the same meaning as before yet became shaped by their leader. The low hum oscillated, and as a shepherd would with their flock, corralled the larger melody. Mickie felt it, the alleviation on his soul as the music was drawn inwards. Even the Mechanist seemed to feel the effects, limbs twitching more vigorously as it tried to reassert itself. When the music was concentrated about the lone figure, the Conductor began to sing in earnest.

    A tune that spiralled and twisted, rising upwards even as it told a story of being dragged downwards. Of a role taken were that never should have been, of force that swallowed the very world, of an entire species, locked up as tightly as it had been in its prison. As the Conductor sang the rest of the Kindle Kin followed, an endless orchestra riding its wake until they reached a peak. Mickie could feel it, up in an ethereal something, a hammer hanging above the glass of his soul. There was a heartbeat in which quiet overcame all, the silent moment before impact. Then the Conductor let lose a note a victory, of rage, and of pain. The crescendo tipped and fell, not a hammer in the hands of the grey leader but a spear with a tip shaper than any scalpel. Mickie felt it pass him, goosebumps rippling along his flesh. The killing edge formed from the collective voices of the Kindle Kin drove into the Mechanist, and it could do nothing to resist. All around the castle shook as the music halted and the insane machine died, truly and completely.

    It took time for palace to stop quaking, like the death throes of a gargantuan beast, it slowly stilled into an eternal silence. All about Mickie the tentacles dropped lifeless to the floor, nothing but limp plastic and rigid steel now the Mechanist was gone. A silence gripped the chamber, as if the Conductor had used up all the sound in the world for this one strike. Mickie could only hear the thudding of his heart as he stood unsteadily and limp forward. There was something he needed to do before this moment of peace ended, someone he needed to honour.

    With no monsters or machines at his throat, it did not take long for Mickie to reach Aria. His friend of little more than a few hours was a wreck of blood and twisted limbs after her tumble across the floor. With firm hands he set about straightening the dead woman out, lying the body on its back with arms across the jagged hole in her chest. Even with both limbs to cover it, Rainzell¡¯s killing blow was still large enough to be visible. So, Mickie gingerly pulled the scorched rags of his own shirt off to cover it. Then he knelt by pale head of the lifeless woman, its skin somehow free of blood despite her grievous wound. Mickie reached to close her eyes but paused. His hands were filthy, coated in blood and ichor. It did not take long to strip the fingerless gloves off, setting them aside before wiping off his fingers as best he could. Even then some grime streaked Aria¡¯s face when he was done. With dignity thus restored Mickie bent forward and gently kissed his friend¡¯s brow, just as he had been taught as a child.

    ¡®I swear I will show them. As you have asked of me, so it shall be.¡¯

    The words were little more than a whisper, yet they seemed to echo through the silent lobby. Like a spell had been broken, noise returned, the sound of metal footsteps ringing through the chamber. Beside Mickie the air vibrated softly, a voice forming from nothing.

    ¡®Strange to see one such as you care for those who have gone to the river.¡¯

    He turned to find the Conductor standing nearby. The blind Kindle Kin appeared like a balloon that had lost some air, sagging and exhausted. Whatever the creature had done to kill the Mechanist must not have been easy.

    ¡®And what would you know about me?¡¯

    ¡®You are a Song Spinner, the harmony knows of you and so do I.¡¯

    Mickie frowned and stood.

    ¡®Well, your songs must not cover it all then. Aria gave her life, and asked something of me in exchange. So, it¡¯s something I¡¯ll do.¡¯

    The conductor tilted its head slightly.

    ¡®So not sentiment then, but duty?¡¯

    The branded man coughed out a chuckle.

    ¡®Duty. No, that¡¯s something given or expected, this is more personal. Something between individuals, a debt.¡¯

    Checking his body for wounds Mickie shifted the topic.

    ¡®What did you do to the Mechanist? I knew you all had something up your sleeve when the normal Kindle Kin entered, I just don¡¯t get how you killed the machine with a song.¡¯

    A pair of hybrids made their way over, shifting the dead tentacles they could not cut easily.

    ¡®To my people the harmony is all, and with it we can touch upon things beyond the physical.¡¯

    He gave the creature a tired look, one it somehow interpreted without eyesight.

    ¡®Simply put, we struck at the very soul of the Mechanist, the only part of its body that was not replaceable. It is a cruel way to defeat a foe, though one we deemed necessary.¡¯

    ¡®Why would it be cruel, I mean, from what I saw the bag of bolts didn¡¯t suffer that long.¡¯

    The old singer took a slow breath.

    ¡®Not because of pain. The death of a soul is a true death. There will be no river for those who have no soul with which to enter it.¡¯

    Mickie thought of the void below and shuddered. Honestly, he was not certain if absolute nothing was worse than that. The pair of hybrids arrived, stomping to a halt beside the human and Kindle Kin. When a brief silence past without a response, the Conductor continued.

    ¡®So, will you rest for a time? I understand you have questions you wish answered.¡¯

    With a look to the stairs Mickie considered. He finally had an opportunity to leave the palace, and who knew when the next obstacle might arrive. Yet he was exhausted and bloody. Heading into a hostile environment like this might be riskier than waiting to recover. There was also the matter of answers. Perhaps the Conductor could give him some information on what waited above.

    Before Mickie could voice a decision, a new arrival caught his attention. Picking his way through the mass of Kiddle Kin by the door was an old man. Karsus got free of the crowd and hurried over to where they stood. Over his shoulder hung a rifle, though his clothes appeared unruffled. Too busy coordinating a war to do any real fighting it seemed.

    ¡®By the blood, you did it. The Palace Lord and the Mechanist both. It¡¯s inconceivable.¡¯

    The Conductor smiled at the sound of its subordinate¡¯s voice.

    ¡®Indeed, we have taken the head from the snake. Though the credit is not just mine, our young friend is the arbiter of this strike.¡¯

    Karsus gave Mickie a surprised look, before noticing the body of the woman behind him.

    ¡®Is that Aria? How did she get caught up in this? I thought she had decent instincts for trouble.¡¯

    Mickie found he did not feel like explaining the situation to the old man. Instead, he turned to the Conductor.

    ¡®I think I¡¯ll take you up on your offer. Though I do have something to ask.¡¯

    The creature gave a slow nod.

    ¡®We shall assist if we can.¡¯

    ¡®Give Aria a proper send off, something better than a pit out on the ice. I don¡¯t know was passes for a burial around here, but she deserves it. You have her to thank for this as much as me. It was Aria that killed the Palace Lord. The Mechanist might have finished it off, but Aria was the one who weakened it.¡¯

    The old man seemed taken aback by that, yet the Conductor only gave another nod.

    ¡®The imps lower their own into the depths beneath the castle. It shall be the same for her.¡¯

    Not exactly the send off Mickie had in mind, though with burial not an option he supposed it was the best they had. A sudden curse from Karsus had drew his attention, only to find the old man raising a rifle in his direction. Instantly Mickie¡¯s own gun was in his hand, pointed at the human leader¡¯s head. It was only the two metal giants that held his fire, they were close, and he was still recovering. They might get him before he slipped away. Karsus glared at the barrel, his own rifle not quite in position, though still pointed towards Mickie¡¯s body.

    ¡®Con, it¡¯s the mark of the Soul Lord. On his hand. I knew something was familiar about that gun of his.¡¯

    The Conductor was not ruffled as it replied.

    ¡®We know of the mark. It reverberates within him, tying him to another. One that is hidden.¡¯

    Karsus gave his boss a wide eye look.

    ¡®Then why is he still standing? It¡¯s the mark of the fucking Soul Lord!¡¯

    Milky eyes swayed as the old singer gave a shake of its head.

    ¡®Not the Soul Lord. A branch. The symbols differ.¡¯

    That was met with a scoff from the old man.

    ¡®Like it matters. Anything related to that fiend is more than trouble, it¡¯s a rot that will poison us all.¡¯

    Karsus lifted his rifle and Mickie¡¯s finger tightened on the trigger. Metal hybrids or not he would blow the old man to pieces before taking a bullet. At that instant a hulking claw of dark steel reached out and grasped the barrel of the weathered human¡¯s rifle. Mickie just managed to hold his fire as the gun was pulled from Karsus¡¯ hands. The old man¡¯s head swivelled between the hybrid clutching his weapon and the Conductor.

    ¡®What are you doing Con? He cannot be allowed to survive.¡¯

    Somehow that seemed to annoy the blind singer, its voice reverberated through the air, harder than before.

    ¡®I have nothing to do with it Karsus. The kin act of their own will, I am a guide, not a puppet master.¡¯

    Its volume dropped back to normal.

    ¡®Mickie is a Song Spinner. No kin would stand by while he came to harm.¡¯

    Karsus still seemed ready to object, so Mickie decided to cut in.

    ¡®Look old boy. I don¡¯t even know who the Soul Lord is, but if that big fellow hadn¡¯t stopped you then I¡¯d have turned you into minced meat.¡¯

    All he received in response an angry glare. Even if the old man was not content, there was little he could do without a weapon. Mickie dismissed his gun and turned back to the Conductor.

    ¡®I know you said answers later, but I feel like I¡¯ve gone long enough already without knowing. Who was the Soul Lord?¡¯

    A susurration like a sigh rippled through the air.

    ¡®I suppose that would be particularly prevalent for you. Very well, I shall walk with you to a room and explain.¡¯

    With that the Conductor turned and waved an arm to the mingling Kindle Kin. In gradual clusters they turned and walked out of the large lobby. As the space emptied several still forms were revealed, casualties of the fight against the mechanist. Another song filled the silence left by the Conductors attack, a thumping rhythm of freedom that held little impact. After what Mickie had just experienced, he doubted even the war song would have been able to stir his blood. The volume of the tune rose then dipped as the Kindle Kin leader did something to the air.

    ¡®The humans will need you at their helm, old friend. I believe you would be better served at their side than mine.¡¯

    Karsus hesitated for a moment, giving Mickie a suspicious look. Then he abruptly turned on his heel and stomped after the exiting Kindle Kin. Watching its friend and subordinate leave, the Conductor gave yet another sigh.

    ¡®At times hate runs so deep it transcends death. Karsus will not be the only one to react in such a manner when observing your brand.¡¯

    It started to walk towards the exit. Mickie got the hint and took a moment to slip his filthy gloves back on before following.

    ¡®So I¡¯m guessing the fight isn¡¯t over, you can¡¯t have taken all the imps out already.¡¯

    ¡®No, we concentrated ourselves here when I felt the Palace Lord fall. I knew it had to be the Mechanist. We had an opportunity to finish the machine and took it.¡¯

    ¡®Then why are you walking with me? You could have given me the short version and gone back to the fight.¡¯

    The Conductor gave a verbal huff of amusement.

    ¡®I am not limited as humans are. Even now I touch upon the harmony, feel the rhythm of the battle, and make and necessary changes to the conflict. With the Palace Lord gone we will target the next leaders in line. The humans know of their location. Soon the imps will be fractured and broken.¡¯

    Absolute confidence coloured the projected voice. It was something Mickie could understand, the Conductor was a battlefield commander that controlled its entire army in real time. The imps were not nearly a capable enough force to resist that kind of tactical advantage. He and the ancient leader exited the devastated lobby, flanked by the two hybrid Kindle Kin.

    ¡®Alright. Out with it then, tell me about the Soul Lord.¡¯

    His blind companion gave a thoughtful hum.

    ¡®Very well. The Soul Lord was the title given to a demon that rose into prominence some centuries ago. One of particularly malicious inclinations.¡¯

    Mickie rolled his eyes.

    ¡®Yeah, I gathered that much.¡¯

    The Conductor turned its head towards him in a manner that could only be disapproving.

    ¡®All stories require context. Now, the Soul Lord earned its title through uncountable demonstrations of capability. Simply put, it had the most acute understanding of souls than any being has ever achieved within this realm.¡¯

    ¡®So, it could do stuff like you did to the Mechanist?¡¯

    There was a pause.

    ¡®Not exactly. We use song as a means to interact with the soul. This demon needed no such tricks. At the height of its power the Soul Lord could tear a soul from a mortal without lifting a finger.¡¯

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Beside him the Conductor gave a slight shudder as it walked.

    ¡®And what it did with those powers. It is difficult to describe the horror, though you have seen the aftermath.¡¯

    ¡®I have?¡¯

    ¡®Indeed, for starters the Mechanist was made by the Soul Lord. An abomination it created by fusing a soul with the castle the Sovereign had built. A sentient caretaker within the very walls of the palace.¡¯

    Mickie was a mixture of amazed and appalled at that. At some level it was genius, a living home that took care of itself. Yet he had met the Mechanist, and that machine was something that should have remained on the drawing board. The Conductor was not even done either, its tone darkening as it continued.

    ¡®It was the Soul Lord that imprisoned my people. Its power was unbelievable, a being that could disrupt the harmony itself. We persevered for a time, but eventually I was caught, and my kin soon followed.¡¯

    Mickie suddenly found himself slightly wary of the diminutive creature. How could it be so forthright with him if he carried the Soul Lord¡¯s mark. The blind Kindle Kin seemed to sense his unease.

    ¡®Do not fret Mickie. We have heard your song, and through it touched upon your soul. I know you are not the Soul Lord¡¯s, even if you carry a derivative of its mark.¡¯

    He supposed if the singers meant him harm, they would have attacked way back at Administration. The fact that Mickie still stood leant some credence to their goodwill.

    ¡®If the Soul Lord was so powerful, then how did it die?¡¯

    ¡®A prudent question, Spinner. And one that relates to something else I wished to convey. You see, I have noticed something peculiar while observing the Soul Lord¡¯s various atrocities. A pattern, you might say.¡¯

    The roundabout response brought a furrow to Mickie¡¯s brown.

    ¡®And that is?¡¯

    ¡®That the Soul Lord always requires an element of control, a contingency. You can see it in the palace was staffed. We Kindle Kin were not easy to subdue, certainly it would have been easier to simply use humans within these halls. Yet we were the pick.¡¯

    They reached an intersection and Mickie followed the Conductor down a hall to the left.

    ¡®Consider the Mechanist. An artificial monster with one crucial weakness, its soul. So, our malicious captor placed the very beings that could destroy its creation into that same monster¡¯s control.¡¯

    As they reached a nondescript door the Conductor waved for a halt without slowing its explanation.

    ¡®My people were the contingency measure. A fire sitting under the Mechanist that could consume it if the machine went rogue.¡¯

    Mickie gave the idea some thought.

    ¡®I suppose it makes some sense, though wouldn¡¯t that risk what¡¯s happening right now. You know, an uprising.¡¯

    The Conductor gave a shake of its head.

    ¡®Not under normal conditions. I presume you are aware of the Sovereign¡¯s planned invasion?¡¯

    At his nod the Kindle Kin continued.

    ¡®The might of the Sovereign would have been enough to slip the chain back about our necks. Yet it would not have been before we struck a blow against the Mechanist. Taught it that masters were necessary for its ongoing survival.¡¯

    While interesting, Mickie was unsure how this related to his last question.

    ¡®So, what does that have to do with the Soul Lord¡¯s death?¡¯

    Milky eyes glinted in the gentle light of the opulent hall.

    ¡®I believe it has everything to do with its death. Approximately one century ago the Soul Lord betrayed the Sovereign and as a result was struck down. I was already a prisoner at this point but the event caused such a stir that it reached me even in my cage.¡¯

    Beside them one of the metal hybrids shifted slightly, the only movement either creature had made since they stopped walking.

    ¡®The Soul Lord was an intrinsic part of the Sovereign¡¯s rise, the driving force even. It would not be a stretch to consider that the crafty demon attempted one of its contingencies on the fallen angel itself. Some plan, that once discovered, resulted in the Sovereign killing its greatest supporter. A betrayal certainly, and one in line with the Soul Lords behaviour.¡¯

    Mickie gave that some thought.

    ¡®Does that mean the Sovereign has some kind of pre-installed weak point, put there by the Soul Lord?¡¯

    Grey shoulders rose in a gentle shrug.

    ¡®It is difficult to say. Perhaps, though it is just as likely the Sovereign destroyed any plans that were in motion.¡¯

    At that the Conductor reached a two fingered hand up and opened the nearby door.

    ¡®Now, if that answers your questions on the Soul Lord, I believe it is time I left you to rest. These are the quarters of an attendant to the Palace Lord, modest but suitable for your needs.¡¯

    Mickie stepped up to the door and glanced inside. It was a basic studio apartment, not unlike that of the head Administrator.

    ¡®Yeah, thanks.¡¯

    ¡®It is our pleasure Song Spinner. We will leave a guard outside, when you are rested simply ask and he will take you to the stairs. I will speak with you once more in the lobby.¡¯

    With that the Conductor turned and stomped away on short legs, one of the hybrids trailing behind. The other metal giant took up a post by his door, turning still as a statue. Giving it little more than a glance, Mickie entered the room and clicked the door shut. He felt exhausted, wounds still healing from his numerous fights, mind churning with what the Conductor had told him. Pushing himself a bit further, Mickie stomped over to a side door and pushed it open, revealing a small bathroom. There was only a shower hidden behind a curtain, and he wasted no time stripping off his ragged garments and stepping under the water.

    It took some serious scrubbing and uncomfortable shifting in the imp sized space, but eventually the water ran clear. Mickie exited the shower and grabbed a towel off a nearby rack. Drying himself off, he headed for the door when something caught his eye. It was a mirror, hardly larger than his flattened hand and pinned to the wall above the sink. With trepidation Mickie turned to the piece of reflective glass, gentle leaning forward to reach eye level. The face that looked back was surprisingly normal, better than normal even. The same deep olive skin and hazel eyes peered back at him. A nose that remained the same little button he had hated when younger. He was not gaunt or haggard from the recent events, if anything he appeared healthier than before his death. The perks of a demonic pact, he supposed.

    Mickie swept his black hair away from his eyes and straightened. He wandered into the room, thinking about how he should have asked for fresh clothes. Just as he did however, Mickie noted a fresh set folded neatly on the bed. Looks like the Conductor had been a step ahead of him. Clean and with modesty restored, he fell onto the small mattress. Exhaustion was a weight that pressed upon Mickie, yet sleep was not swift in its arrival. Even now the song of the Kindle Kin pounded, loud enough to keep his mind in the waking world.

    The Conductor¡¯s description of the Soul Lord kept returning to his thoughts like a catchy song. How was this dead demon related to Miz-Mag? He was certain that the tiny fiend had no clue. Mickie raised his branded hand up and examined the ridged flesh. Three distinct predators, the same as his gun had on the barrel. Did they mean anything? Perhaps they were simply handed down by whatever demon had spawned his invisible companion. Then there was the symbol, a small character resting just below the lion. Apparently, it differed from the one depicted on the Soul Lord¡¯s true mark. Mickie should probably find out what it meant at some stage; it might give him a hint as to the dead demon¡¯s involvement in all of this.

    Eventually drowsiness overcame his mind¡¯s stubborn resistance to sleep, his eyes drooped, and slumber overcame him. As Mickie¡¯s waking mind quieted, its barriers fell. Dreams filled with shifting tones of grey overran his rest, echoing with the sounds of crying and gunshots like peels of thunder. Through it all the dead man was dragged. Pulled in to the depths, destined to sink for all eternity.

    <hr>

    Mickie was awoken by a hysterical figure jabbing at his face, the song of the Kindle Kin once again ringing in his ears. Apparently Miz-Mag had expected to awaken on the eighth circle, and found their continued presence in the castle a rude surprise. It took some time for Mickie to calm his panicky companion. Then longer still to explain how they came to be in this little apartment. There was a brief silence as he finished the tale, then the little demon let lose a high-pitched squawk of laughter.

    ¡®By the blood kid. I mean, I saw the Palace Lord eat it, but the Mechanist too?¡¯

    His companion paused to give another laugh.

    ¡®I knew I made the right choice cutting a deal with you.¡¯

    The laughter was infectious, and Mickie gave a gentle chuckle as he rose from bed.

    ¡®I was the only choice. You¡¯d have made a deal with a chicken if it could see you.¡¯

    Miz-Mag threw a rude gesture in his direction, causing Mickie to chuckle once more. He fetched his gloves from where they had been hanging in the bathroom. They were still wet from the wash he had given them, though he could deal with a bit of discomfort if it meant avoiding a bullet to the brain. The duo exited the room soon after, Miz-Mag returned to its perch on his shoulder. Outside the hybrid Kindle Kin waited stoically, appearing to not have budged an inch since he entered.

    ¡®Hey, could you show me to the stairwell?¡¯

    The metal giant gave an assenting grumble and set off, heavy footsteps reverberating through the floor.

    ¡®Why get the bot¡¯s help kid? I could guide us no problem.¡¯

    Mickie gave the kindle kin a quick look before answering in a whisper, barely audible over the ongoing song.

    ¡®Because they offered. It¡¯s best to never let others no your limits, keep a card up the sleeve and all that.¡¯

    ¡®But we already found our way to the lobby once, why would they think we couldn¡¯t do it again?¡¯

    He gave a one shouldered shrug.

    ¡®Not sure, the Conductor is kinda weird. Might be that the big guy is more for protection, that old man did not seem pleased I left the lobby alive.¡¯

    The demon made a thoughtful sound but spoke no further, leaving the song to thrum on endlessly as the duo made their way to the staircase. Arriving at the large chamber Mickie found it to be little better than when he had left. Limp tentacles of dark plastic had been shifted aside to create a path leading to the spiral stairs. To one side lay several fallen hybrids, those who had died in the fight against the Mechanist. Miz-Mag let lose a whistle at the messy display.

    ¡®They really did it huh, killed the Mechanist. Not as impressive as our show down in its lair though.¡¯

    Mickie did not respond, preferring to keep silent as a grey figure approached. The Conductor step up alongside him and the ever-present song was muffled.

    ¡®Hello Spinner. I hope you are well rested?¡¯

    At his affirmation the blind leader continued.

    ¡®Good. It was my understanding you wished to ascend the stairs. I thought that the location of your departure was a good spot for our final chat.¡¯

    He almost made to ask how the Kindle Kin had known of his intention to climb but paused. It was probably obvious from his actions alone at this point.

    ¡®Yeah, I¡¯m heading up. Wanted to ask you about the next circle, just so I don¡¯t head in blind.¡¯

    The Conductor waved him forward and the pair started a slow walk to the stairs.

    ¡®A wise decision. The black city is not something you should tackle in ignorance. It is home to some of the most powerful demons outside of the Sovereign¡¯s own army.¡¯

    That was not ideal.

    ¡®So, the next circle is just one giant city?¡¯

    ¡®For the most part. The metropolis is centred within an expanse of darkness, the only location truly of note. The stairs will take you straight to it.¡¯

    ¡®Figured they would. I don¡¯t suppose I¡¯ll arrive in some quiet corner that no demon ever visits.¡¯

    Milky white eyes turned to him in a look that could only be sympathetic.

    ¡®Unfortunately, not. It has been some time since I was dragged down into this palace. Though the humans here speak of a grand tower, right in the centre of the city. It is there that the stairs emerge.¡¯

    ¡®Of course it is.¡¯

    He let lose a frustrated sigh. On his shoulder Miz-Mag decided to give its two cents.

    ¡®Well, it¡¯s not like it was going to be easy kid. We¡¯ll just have to spill a bit of blood, same as always.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s gaze traced along the scarred and battered tiles, following a streak of red that demarcated Aria¡¯s journey across the floor. Her body was gone now, given greater priority than even the Kindle Kin by the entrance. Mickie hoped she was somewhere safe, waiting to be given a proper send off.

    ¡®Alright, so it¡¯s going to be a rocky arrival. Anything else I should know about the city?¡¯

    The Conductor gave a knowing smile.

    ¡®I believe you might be interested to know that there are four exits leading to the seventh circle.¡¯

    That caught his interest, Mickie gave the singer a sharp look and the air vibrated in a chuckle.

    ¡®It is not hard to deduce your intentions, Spinner. While I believe it impossible, it would not be the first time I have been surprised by you.¡¯

    The branded man attempted to school his features as the Kindle Kin continued.

    ¡®Spaced near the borders of the city, are four towers. They reach to the ceiling and provide access to the seventh circle. The information I have gathered indicates each is guarded in some manner, though accounts of what by vary between sources.¡¯

    They reached the stairs and came to stop at the base. At some stage the monstrous body of the Palace Lord had been hauled to one side. It lay twisted and still, a small mountain of chitin and dead flesh. Disposing of that thing would be a serious hassle, Mickie was glad it wasn¡¯t his problem.

    ¡®That¡¯s good to know, anything else you can give me?¡¯

    The Kindle Kin gave a slow nod.

    ¡®Yes. The demonic houses within the city are numerous and varied, but I caution you to be wary of one in particular. That of Belphegor, an old demon, and one of the most cunning to ever have spawned within the nine circles.¡¯

    Mickie frowned.

    ¡®That name sounds familiar. I think I¡¯ve heard it before.¡¯

    ¡®I do not doubt it, Belphegor was one of the seven in older times. The Lord of Sloth.¡¯

    That meant this Belphegor was like Mammon. The thought of encountering a demon of that calibre without it being chained and frozen caused Mickie to shudder.

    ¡®I¡¯ll try my best to avoid it then.¡¯

    There was a lull as Mickie attempted to think of another question, but came up short. There certainly were any number of things he could ask, about the Kindle Kin or the myriad idiosyncrasies of the palace. Yet at that moment they felt inconsequential. Mickie was about to leave this place behind, and if he ever saw it again something would have gone terribly wrong. His eyes wandered to the stairs, so close and blessedly free of any obstructions. He had gotten what he could on the Soul Lord and the eighth circle, anything else could wait.

    ¡®I think it¡¯s time I got moving. Thanks for your help, in killing the Mechanist and giving me some information.¡¯

    The Conductor gave him a soft smile.

    ¡®It is the kin who thank you Song Spinner. You have enabled us to secure freedom once more, and the harmony shall always remember that.¡¯

    Mickie gave a solemn nod and stepped onto the staircase, only to pause as the Conductor spoke again.

    ¡®Before you leave, I would give you some final words of advice.¡¯

    He turned back to the ancient singer.

    ¡®Shoot.¡¯

    The creature paused for a moment before speaking.

    ¡®Firstly, you should know that we will be sealing the stairwell behind you. The kin have spent decades administering to these walls and know many of its secrets. A lockdown failsafe is one discovery we will now put into use.¡¯

    Mickie turned to properly face the blind creature and shrugged.

    ¡®Sure, I¡¯m cool with that. Wasn¡¯t planning on coming back down.¡¯

    The Kindle Kin gave a nod.

    ¡®Secondly, a warning. One about the brand that marks your hand.¡¯

    He tensed up at that, though the Conductor spoke on without noting his caution.

    ¡®It is essential to be wary of any link to the Soul Lord. Remember what I told you about the demon, plans and contingencies. It is likely there is more to your mark than you realise. Watch for the signs that all is not as it seems.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s shoulders relaxed and he let lose a short bark of laughter.

    ¡®Nothing is as it seems down here. Bit hard to nail down any one event in particular.¡¯

    His humour died with a sigh.

    ¡®But you¡¯re right. I¡¯ll keep my eyes peeled.¡¯

    The palace¡¯s exit called to him, and Mickie could resist its pull no longer.

    ¡®If that¡¯s everything, I¡¯ll be off. All the best in your hostile takeover.¡¯

    The Conductor gave a soft chuckle.

    ¡®Farewell Mickie, I hope you achieve what you set out to.¡¯

    And with that the branded man and his companion demon began their ascent to the next circle. They were partway up when Miz-Mag, who had been fidgeting for some time, let loose a mad cackle.

    ¡®The harmony shall always remember.¡¯

    It mimicked the words of the Conductor in a pretentious tone.

    ¡®What a wierdo. You think the harmony remembers that you blew the head off one of those metal giants?¡¯

    Mickie glared at the fiend as it gave another peel of laughter. He wanted to give a snippy reply yet was leery of speaking with the old Kindle Kin so close. Who knew how good the creatures hearing was. Instead, the duo stomped onwards, Mickie serenaded by constant chatter from his invisible sidekick. Eventually they neared the ceiling, passing by the hanging remaining of the Mechanist¡¯s tentacles. Miz-Mag gave a whistle of appreciation.

    ¡®Would have been trouble getting past all this. I guess you¡¯re lucky the singers showed up to save your ass. And mine too for that matter.¡¯

    Mickie grunted as he shoved a dead limb blocking the stairs, pushing it out into the open.

    ¡®I¡¯ll bet. Might still have made it, though it would have been rough.¡¯

    They ascended a final few turns of the spiral and reached the point where the stairs met the ceiling. There was a landing here, a platform separating the path they had followed from another, similar spiral that continued up a cylindrical tunnel. Looking at the climb he wondered why Hell had electronic lighting but no elevators. One decent lift ride could have saved him a lot of trouble.

    The Kindle Kin¡¯s song had grown distant as they climbed, so when a grinding sound abruptly came from below it was easy for him to pick up. Mickie turned back the stairs he had just climbed, only to find them falling away. The top step parted from the landing to slowly disappear into the palace lobby. He looked over the edge and saw a huge set of dark steel blast doors sliding shut right beneath the platform. As they swallowed the view of the domed room, Mickie caught one last glimpse of milky eyes, almost appearing to look right at him from. Then the palace was gone, locked away behind a mass of steel that would take an age to bore through.

    ¡®Bit rude. Hardly waited until we were out the door before slamming it shut.¡¯

    For its part, Miz-Mag was unbothered to see its home disappear for good. The fiend had spent an age locked away in the palace, and all it wanted was to reach what lay beyond. Mickie turned to the next set of stairs.

    ¡®I suppose we had better get moving.¡¯

    There was had another circle to escape and a promise to keep. Mickie would show the demons that humanity was more than they could ever hope to contain.

    <hr>

    Back within the palace, standing by the stairs in the remnants of the lobby, was a grey figure. One so old that it struggled to delineate time as humans did. The Conductor tilted its head up, feeling the enhanced barrier slide home to muffle the sounds beyond. While not impenetrable to the ancient Kindle Kin¡¯s senses, it made picking up what Mickie said difficult. Yet it still noted the occasional words, the mortal had certainly referred to itself as a collective, a ¡®we¡¯. It was one of many strange snippets the old singer had caught while listening in on their newest Spinner. There had also been the confrontation with the Palace Lord, in which both the insect and the human held a conversation with a third individual. One that appeared by all accounts to be undetectable.

    The blind Kindle Kin hummed thoughtfully. What was the Soul Lord planning when it forged this interaction? Why was this strange human only now appearing, so long after the puppet master had fallen. Perhaps Mickie would fall in the city above, his secret sinking into the abyss with his soul. Or maybe, he would succeed. The thought excited the Conductor. For all that it loathed the Soul Lord, that demon had achieved something near impossible. It had shown the old singer something new. Perhaps the Soul Lords¡¯s unknowing agent would do the same if he lived long enough.

    A thrum ran through the harmony, currently resonated to the rhythm of freedom. The Conductor touched upon the warbling dissonance, reading from it the entire status of an ongoing conflict. With an ululation pitched too low for any human to make out, the Kindle Kin leader gave its orders. Individual packets to key fighters, widespread movements to blockades, the application of a flanking manoeuvre on some overzealous imps. All of it was sent forth in mere moments, hardly a diversion for the blind creature. Familiar footsteps sounded nearby as a human approached.

    ¡®Con, they¡¯re on the back foot now, it¡¯s only a matter of time.¡¯

    It was Karsus, the oldest human the Conductor had ever met, and one it would consider a friend of sorts.

    ¡®Then we are progressing as expected. I have sealed the passage to the eighth circle, once we finish taking the palace, we can begin the excavation.¡¯

    The old man seemed sceptical.

    ¡®Are you certain we should be leaving? Can we not just secure the ninth against intrusion?¡¯

    It took an effort of will for the singer to restrain a verbal sigh.

    ¡®We have discussed this Karsus, the ninth is far to inhospitable. If we remain the Sovereign will eventually return, and we will be driven onto the ice.¡¯

    With a slight firming of its tone, the Conductor continued.

    ¡®No. If we wish to keep a hold of our freedom, there is but one choice. We must clear the old paths and follow them to freedom.¡¯

    <hr>

    The tower rose from the centre of the tiered city, a monolith of sleek plating that reflected flashing neon lights. It served a myriad of functions, and as such was staffed by a small army of slaves and servants. One such employee was a demon named Bizaltine, a small imp stationed within a large hall. Just one of a several guards within the room, this demon was tasked with watching a grand set of double doors. It was said that these marked the end of the passage between the eighth and ninth circles. Personally however, Bizaltine was not certain. In the weeks it had been stationed here, not a single soul other than the guards had entered the hall. If this was truly the way down to the palace, then there would surely be important demons going back and forth all the time.

    Bizaltine fidgeted with its gun¡¯s strap, attempting to get the unwieldy rifle in a more comfortable position. The accursed thing was unreasonably heavy, making it difficult to carry and even more challenging to use. Growing bored, as the little imp often did during extended shifts within the hall, Bizaltine turned to see if it could catch the attention of its neighbour. Only to notice something was wrong with the surroundings. Everything was gloomy, as if coated in shadow.

    ¡®It certainly took you long enough. I thought guards were supposed to be paying attention to their surroundings.¡¯

    It was a cold voice, spoken softly from right beside the imp. Bizaltine gave a yelp of surprise and spun about, fumbling for its rifle.

    ¡®Raise that oversized stick at me imp, and I¡¯ll take one of your eyes.¡¯

    The authority within the words was absolute, Bizaltine was certain that the threat was genuine. Gently, it lowered the rifle while scanning the surrounds. A patch of wall seemed to shift, shadows unfolding to reveal a figure. Slender, tall, and cloaked in darkness. This was a demon, and one of significant power. Instantly Bizaltine¡¯s survival instincts kicked in and it fell to one knee.

    ¡®Apologies, Oh Great One. I was startled and meant no intention of harm to one of your stature.¡¯

    The living shadow gave a sigh of exasperation.

    ¡®Not bad, imp. Bit too waffly for my tastes though. You can stand.¡¯

    With a wince the shaking fiend rose to its feet, head bowed in supplication.

    ¡®How my I assist you, Great One?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m looking to know if anyone has come by here? Or if you have noticed any changes beyond the door?¡¯

    Bizaltine¡¯s response was prompt and emphatic.

    ¡®I would never presume to look beyond the threshold, Great One. As for your other question, no one has passed at all in the past few weeks.¡¯

    The shadows surrounding them seemed to grow pointed as the demon grew irritated.

    ¡®I meant observed from your post fool, of course you would not enter.¡¯

    It was spoken with such certainty and contempt that a brief spark of irritation kindled in Bizaltine. For a moment the imp was tempted to say it had checked past the doors. That in fact, the Soul Lord was back there juggling sixteen mortal heads. It was an urge the little fiend swiftly suppressed.

    ¡®Apologies, Great One. As far as I am aware there has been no activity beyond the doors.¡¯

    Bizaltine remained rigid, head bowed and awaiting a response. Silence held sway for what felt like an age, yet the imp did not dare look up and risk the demon¡¯s wrath. Eventually however, a new voice broke the guard from its position.

    ¡®Oi! What in the nine are you up to?¡¯

    Glancing to the source of the whispered question, Bizaltine found the world no longer covered in a veil of darkness. Instead, a nearby guard was giving the imp a confused look.

    ¡®Well?¡¯

    It swallowed dryly and glanced up to where the shadowy figure had been standing.

    ¡®I uh, got distracted. Sorry.¡¯

    ¡®Distracted? You got sulphur for brains? Get back into position!¡¯

    Bizaltine was only too happy to comply. Yet as the guarded stood vigil by the door it could not help but scan every shadowy nook and cranny, hoping to not see something looking back.

 11 â€“ Metropolis of Midnight

    For what felt like an age, Mickie¡¯s world was reduced to a ceaseless climb, one foot in front of another, up the stairs. He had attempted to count the passing lights set into the walls, but Miz-Mag¡¯s relentless prattling kept throwing him off. It had at least been a couple hundred.

    ¡®Dear boy, let me tell you, I have been looking forward to seeing the big city. Living large in the palace was nice, certainly. But one eventually hungers for the bustle of city life. Indeed, my friend, I think I am better suited to the streets than the opulent halls.¡¯

    A sudden wave of vertigo caused Mickie to misstep, and he stumbled, almost collapsing onto the stairs. The tiny fiend on his shoulder swore loudly.

    ¡®By the blood kid, watch your step.¡¯

    The branded man straightened, and almost immediately fell over again as his head spun.

    ¡®Something¡¯s wrong. The stairs, something with the stairs.¡¯

    He steadied himself, waiting for the world to settle. Except the dizziness was only getting worse, now accompanied by a tickling sensation from his brand. Heal blossomed within his right hand and spread up his arm, becoming uncomfortable warm. Mickie held up his scarred flesh to find the mark glowing a dim orange.

    ¡®Welp, that does not look right.¡¯

    He was in no condition to reply as fire gradually spread throughout his body, pain blossoming into agony. Muscles seized and the marked mortal collapsed to the hard staircase. The heat kept building, like Mickie¡¯s body was a sealed vessel, straining to hold together as pressure spiked. Desperately he squirmed and clawed at his chest, hands digging and tearing the fabric of his clean shirt. Miz-Mag was saying something, dismayed, but he could not make out the words.

    Then, as sudden as it had come on, the pain was gone. Mickie gasped in relief, slowly taking stock of his body in the aftermath of the agony. Everything seemed to be fine, though his clothes once more looked like they had been pulled from a dumpster. With a groan Mickie sat up slowly on the stairs, rubbing the brand on the back of his hand. Something gave him pause, it almost felt like there were more lines etched upon his flesh. Taking a look, he swore loudly, prompting Miz-Mag to shift from the stairs to his shoulder.

    ¡®Well bend me over and spank me clean, I did not see that coming.¡¯

    The border of the mark remained the same, a lion, wolf and leopard circling one another. Within the trio of predators however, there was a new symbol accompanying the last. This new amalgamation of squiggles was positioned to the right, where the numbers one or two would be on a clock. It was a sight that made Mickie uneasy, and it was not long before his brain pulled together a dohesive picture as to why.

    He had received this brand when entering the castle, hauled up from a hanging cage. Now he was moving on to another circle it flared up, adding a new symbol to the empty space in the centre. Eyeballing the distance between the two strange characters, Mickie mentally added more until he looped about the mark¡¯s interior. Nine total symbols would fit. Nine symbols for nine circles. Words the Conductor had spoken just before he set off up the stairs came back to Mickie in that moment. A warning about the Soul Lord and its contingencies.

    ¡®What happens when I get to the top?¡¯

    The words came out sounding dry, stripped by his nerves until they were flaky and untextured. T demon on his shoulder seemed to sense his unease. Miz-Mag¡¯s answer did not contain a hint of the fiend¡¯s usual joviality.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know kid, I just made the deal.¡¯

    Miz-Mag seemed to have reached the same conclusion about the symbols within the brand, and if its expression was any indicator, the creature found the discovery as disturbing as he did. Yet the mortal found himself unable to accept his companion¡¯s answer. The demon¡¯s lack of knowledge on the pact it had placed upon them had been an ongoing sore spot for Mickie. This most recent development was the straw that broke the camel¡¯s back.

    ¡®How do you not know? It¡¯s your deal!¡¯

    An outburst shaped by his frustration and unease burst forth, and he ranted without giving the demon a chance to interject.

    ¡®Why would you bind you soul to someone without knowing what you were really doing? It makes no sense at all. I can¡¯t believe you were never suspicious about that urge. Never stopped to think, maybe there was some kind of reason you felt the need to make a deal. The fact that I, a human who can somehow see you, appeared out of nowhere did not give you pause. It¡¯s astounding, there was clearly something else at work!¡¯

    His companion had fled from his shoulder at the explosion¡¯s onset, and now stood glaring at him from a nearby step. The look on Miz-Mag¡¯s face was not one of pure anger, rather it was fury masking something deeper, a pain that huddled within. Catching a hint of that genuine emotion, Mickie paused in his tirade and took a breath. It took a moment for Miz-Mag to start talking, its voice coming out almost in a hiss.

    ¡®What would you know? Your little more than a child. Probably died doing some stupid shit. What would you know of me? Of a century wandering the halls of that metal monstrosity. Of the only thing that can talk to you wanting you dead. Of being weak. Of being alone.¡¯

    The final words came out with a squeak of effort, and Miz-Mag closed its eyes, tilting its head down.

    ¡®You expect me to have answers when I can ask no questions? You expect me not to take a chance at fulfilling my purpose? Tell me, Mickie, should I have let you die instead? Maybe continued on for eternity, unseen in those damned halls?¡¯

    Golden eyes glinted with an angry determination as the fiend abruptly raised its head.

    ¡®I might not want to die, but I also don¡¯t want to live like that. Not when there¡¯s an alternative. I do have reasons to climb other than the deal you know.¡¯

    Mickie crossed his arms.

    ¡®And they are?¡¯

    Light reflected off white specks as his companion grinned.

    ¡®I want to be known. To be thought of with awe. It¡¯s like you said, I want to show them, show them that I¡¯m more than just a bug underfoot.¡¯

    The tiny demon stated its lofty goals with an honesty that Mickie rarely saw in the creature. It was enough to break him from his obstinate anger. The branded man rubbed his brow and drained the emotion with a slow breath.

    ¡®That¡¯s all well and good, but it doesn¡¯t change the fact that something weird is going on.¡¯

    Miz-Mag let lose a dark chuckle, attempting to put its usual chipper attitude back on.

    ¡®It¡¯s Hell dear boy, if something weird isn¡¯t happening you¡¯re doing it wrong.¡¯

    He could hear the effort behind the forced joviality, and it sucked away the last of Mickie¡¯s temper. With a sigh he stood and began walking up the staircase once more. Miz-Mag did not return to its usual perch, instead hopping from stair to stair beside him. The duo continued silently in this manner for some time until a thought occurred to Mickie.

    ¡®How are you going become known to the demons if they can¡¯t even see you?¡¯

    Miz-Mag threw him a glace before returning its focus to the staircase.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know, I¡¯ll work it out. Could always get you to say you¡¯re doing stuff for me. You know, the Masterful Miz-Mag sends it regards, or something.¡¯

    That sounded a lot like something the family used to do when Mickie was alive. The thought of his little partner acting like one of the old-school dons caused him to huff out a chuckle.

    ¡®Yeah, maybe not that line, we could work something out though.¡¯

    He received a glare for laughing at the suggestion, but Miz-Mag seemed to be a bit closer to its usual self when the demon responded.

    ¡®Well, maybe I¡¯ll get some power to help, you seem to be picking up new ones, so I could too.¡¯

    Mickie gave the fiend a confused look as it hopped between stairs.

    ¡®What are you on about? What new power?¡¯

    Miz-Mag landed and came to a sudden stop, returning a baffled look of its own.

    ¡®The new ability you got from that little dance you did before, can¡¯t you feel it?

    That took the human by surprise, and he stumbled on a step.

    ¡®No, I can¡¯t feel it! You can tell I have powers?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, I thought you could too. I mean, you called the gun up almost immediately.¡¯

    ¡®That was because I was about to die!¡¯

    He gave an exasperated sigh.

    ¡®Well, what is it then?¡¯

    The fiend tilted its head.

    ¡®What¡¯s what?¡¯

    ¡®My new power!¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave a sudden burst of laughter.

    ¡®Yeah, I know, I was just messing with you kid. As for the power, well, my sense of it is kind of vibe based. Though at a guess I would say it¡¯s some kind of protection. If the gun¡¯s the sword, this is the shield.¡¯

    It sounded like another summoning ability then.

    ¡®So I just call on a shield then?¡¯

    All he got in response was a shrug. Deciding there was nothing for it other than to try, Mickie stretched out his branded hand and thought of a shield. A few moments past with nothing manifesting into his grasp. Perhaps if he thought of it appearing, that was what he did when summoning the gun after all. Another silent few breaths past with no results.

    ¡®Performance issues kid? Not to worry, it happens to the best of us.¡¯

    He gave the snickering demon a glare before going back to the drawing board. Miz-Mag had said a shield, but that was not the only form of defence available. Armour also protected the body. In fact, some kind of passive shielding would be the better choice, seeing as he had never actually held a shield before. With a low heat his brand began to burn, the same as it did whenever he summoned the gun. The warmth drew his attention like a hand on a hot stove, rapidly spiking before something came forth from within him. Mickie felt it take form, a gentle weight upon his shoulders, coarse fabric against his knees. From the stairs nearby Miz-Mag made an impressed noise.

    ¡®Looking sharp kid, though you might want to lose a layer.¡¯

    Looking down, Mickie took in his new appearance as best he could. It appeared that the summoning had called forth clothing of some kind. Jeans poked out beneath the threadbare shorts he had been wearing, and long jacket sleaves emerged from the beige top. With a thought, Mickie dismissed his new clothing. It vanished as if had never been, and the palace worker clothes he had on shifted as they settled back onto his skin. He did not even bother to readjust the garb, pulling it off until he was standing nude on the staircase. The brand burned once again, and Mickie¡¯s new outfit was called forth to cover his body.

    ¡®Huh.¡¯

    Off all the accoutrements one might expect when thinking of armour, this getup was certainly not among them. He was indeed wearing jeans, a comfortably snug pair that shifted with his legs like a second skin. They were bound by a belt woven from tight strands of dark hair, held into place by a bone buckle. The jacket appeared to be made of some reptilian hide, broad scales as hard and slick as wet stone protected his upper body. Below the defensive layer was a crimson tee, for all appearances a merchandise top one might find at a death metal gig. The words Soul Siphon hung above an image of three familiar furry predators, snarling with muzzles coated in blood.

    While a touch more overstated than he preferred, it was the kind of outfit Mickie had preferred during the few years of peace he had while alive. The result of nights spent in basement bars and weekends on the road, riding, and camping. It was a comfortable fit, though perhaps not his first choice when thinking of armour. Miz-Mag had wandered over and was testing the durability of the jeans, scratching at the denom.

    ¡®This is some tough stuff, maybe you won¡¯t get poked full of holes every time we fight now. Shirts a bit much though.¡¯

    Mickie jabbed the thick fabric protecting one of his arms, hardly feeling the pressure on the skin beneath.

    ¡®It¡¯s like Kevlar on steroids, definitely better than the rags I was wearing before.¡¯

    There was only one real problem.

    ¡®Why don¡¯t I have any shoes?¡¯

    His feet were as bare as they had been when he first arrived in Hell. Mickie had no doubts they would get filthy if he had to run about in a city. Hopefully his demon powers gave him immunity to any infections he would be risking by coating them in grime. A figure alighted atop his shoulder, and he failed to feel Miz-Mag through the jacket at all. He would not have even known the demon was there if not for its eye-catching shade of red.

    ¡®Well, there¡¯s always next time, aye kid.¡¯

    The fiend patted his ear consolingly. Mickie rubbed at his brand as he started climbing the stairs once more. There was little he could do about the deal currently, if he didn¡¯t like what was happening each layer then he would have to stop climbing. Though that would mean a trip into the abyss. It put the whole do or die clause of the bargain into a new light for Mickie. It was, as the Conductor had warned, a contingency. One designed to force him upwards. His misgivings about the brand would have to outweigh his will to live, something Mickie could not see happening. For now, he would make use of whatever new power was provided, and deal with the consequences of doing so if he lived long enough to suffer them.

    <hr>

    After another tedious period spent climbing stairs, the duo came into view of an upper landing. Excited, Mickie took the final stretch two steps at a time, reaching a blessedly solid platform. Unlike the lobby within the palace, the top of the staircase was a small chamber, still domed but plain in design and only as wide as the stairs themselves. A large set of double doors set into the grey walls was the only way in or out of the space. They approached the slabs of steel and Mickie raised his hands to grasp a large ring that hung at head height.

    ¡®What¡¯s the bet we¡¯ll just be walking out of here without a fight?¡¯

    Miz-Mag had slipped from his shoulder and was examining the point where the door met the floor, the gap too narrow even for the small demon.

    ¡®Unlikely kid. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if the path out of here is riddled with demons.¡¯

    Mickie rolled his shoulders.

    ¡®Alright. Okay.¡¯

    A gradual calm came over him, everything but the task at hand pushed away.

    ¡®Let¡¯s do this.¡¯

    He heaved on the ring and the door swung inwards. The light beyond was the same gentle glow as within their room. A passage stretched some distance before terminating at yet another set of doors. Guards lined the walls, at least a couple dozen imps holding unwieldy rifles. Before he had even got the door open a squeaky voiced called out to Mickie.

    ¡®Who¡¯s there! Identify yourself!¡¯

    Releasing the ring, Mickie paused, his expression shifted from one of calm calculation to hurried panic in an instant. The mortal made sure his glove was in position over his brand before taking a few stumbling steps into the hall. He had hardly made it past the threshold before a foot caught on his calf and Mickie tumbled to the floor. Scrambling onto his knees, he raised trembling hands and spoke between ragged gasps for air.

    ¡®I serve the Palace Lord. I come baring news from the ninth circle.¡¯

    The barrels that had been pointed his way dropped ever so slightly. An imp stepped forward from its place by the wall.

    ¡®What news human?¡¯

    It raised its gun in threat and Mickie quailed beneath the barrel.

    ¡®I-I-I was told only to report to the master of this place. It is of utmost importance.¡¯

    The imp approached and he shrank away from it.

    ¡®Why are you dressed like that mortal? I¡¯ve seen the palace slaves, and they all wear stuffy rags.¡¯

    Mickie did not answer, only mumbled.

    ¡®Message, I¡¯ve got to relay the message.¡¯

    ¡®Answer me fool!¡¯

    A barrel was prodded into his chest, and Mickie gasped in feigned terror.

    ¡®The Palace Lord! My master commanded it, I do not question him!¡¯

    The imp took a step back, seemingly mollified. At their positions on the walls, some of the guards were making poor attempts to conceal laughter. His interrogator paused, touching a hand to its ear.

    ¡®Understood.¡¯

    It turned back to him.

    ¡®You will follow me, any sudden moves and you¡¯re dead, understand?¡¯

    Mickie gave a vigorous nod while scanning the hall for cameras. Though he couldn¡¯t find any, that didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t there. After all, the surveillance back in Administration had not been visible. It looked like something had been watching his entry and wanted to know why he wasn¡¯t visible on their feed.

    ¡®O-of course sir.¡¯

    He stood on unsteady legs, flinching slightly when the demon waved his gun.

    ¡®Come on. Get moving.¡¯

    With a panicked urgency Mickie stumbled forward. As he tromped towards the far end of the hall Miz-Mag skipped ahead, chuckling merrily.

    ¡®Well played kid. Now we just need a chance to slip out of here.¡¯

    The guard followed right on his heels, issuing orders as they went.

    ¡®Alright, Fakil, you¡¯re head while I¡¯m out. Pontus, you¡¯re with me.¡¯

    An imp against the wall tromped forward silently. Mickie¡¯s escort scanned the hall, looking for a particular fiend.

    ¡®Ah Biz, there you are. You¡¯re coming too, can¡¯t have you dozing off while I¡¯m gone, can I?¡¯

    The other guards gave a series of low chuckles as another fiend stepped from its position. Mickie noted this particular imp seemed downcast, though tried to hide it behind a stoic fa?ade. They reached the doors at the end of the hall and Mickie was prodded in the back with a barrel.

    ¡®Alright slave, get the doors.¡¯

    Mickie hurried to comply and soon the human and his imp escort were wondering through the halls. The interior of the building was more akin to the offices of Administration than the gawdy halls of the upper floors. Gray walls an austere lighting was complimented by tiles of matte black. Unlike the offices within the palace however, these halls were a bustling network of activity. All about demons of every shaped and size were walking with purpose, heading to who knew where within building.  Mickie even noted occasional humans moving through the organised chaos, better dressed than those within the palace.

    ¡®Of course it¡¯s stinkin¡¯ shift change. Going to take ages to get through this.¡¯

    The head guard grumbled loudly as they moved through the halls, eventually coming to a side passage. Mickie noted the leader of the imps take a card from his side and press it against a scanner on the wall, prompting a set of doors to swing open. They entered an empty hall that was swiftly sealed behind them. It looked like his chance at escape had arrived.

    This passage was narrower than the others, and more importantly, empty of anyone but their merry band. Under the false pretext of scratching his neck, Mickie scooped Miz-Mag from his shoulder. The demon gave him a raised eyebrow and Mickie mimed poking his eye then pointed a subtle thumb behind him. In response to his odd actions, a barrel was jabbed hard into his back.

    ¡®Cut that shit out and walk normally or we¡¯ll have to drag your corpse.¡¯

    ¡®Sorry sir. Just nervous¡¯

    He had stumbled along with the jab, and when Mickie looked to his hand after steadying, Miz-Mag was gone. It was only a few more steps before his companion made itself know.

    ¡®Alright kid, I have the quiet one, on your left. The boss is on your right and another just behind it. On zero. Three, two, one¡­¡¯

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Mickie spun and struck out at the trio¡¯s leader while a little red fiend rammed its claws into an imp¡¯s eye. With one hand he grasped the bossy guard on the side of the head, lifting him off the floor. Before the hell spawn could recover from the shock of the act, he was slamming its head into the wall. Once, twice, and a third time for good measure. The imp was dropped limp to the floor and Mickie wasted no time in dispatching the one Miz-Mag had blinded. In moments all that remained of the guard force was a single scared imp. It backed away from him slowly while fumbling for its unwieldy gun.

    ¡®Mag, handle the gun, we want this one alive!¡¯

    The terrified guard seemed not to registered what he had said, the barrel of its weapon shook slightly as the creature tried to sound commanding.

    ¡®Get on the ground. Get down or I¡¯ll shoot.¡¯

    Its voice was tight with fear, and Mickie put his hands up before responding.

    ¡®Then what? You kill the messenger of the Palace Lord? Rainzell will turn you to paste for damaging his property.¡¯

    To its credit, the little imp seemed to have gotten a hold of its courage as it answered. However it failed to notice the added weight of Miz-Mag alighting atop its bulky rifle.

    ¡®The Palace Lord would never send a human. I¡¯m not stupid, I know it always sent imps in the past.¡¯

    There was a click and a clatter as Mickie¡¯s companion pulled a catch on the gun and kicked its magazine free. The fiend them immediately hauled on a slot in the side and threw the chambered round across the hall. The final imp looked on in awe as its gun unloaded itself, not realise Mickie was upon it until it was too late. He grabbed the demon by its combat vest and slammed it against a wall.

    ¡®Do you know a way out of here!¡¯

    The guard spluttered in confusion and surprise. Knowing there was likely cameras in the hall, the branded man called his gun forth to push things along. A snarling barrel was pressed against the temple of the terrified imp.

    ¡®Do you know a way out of the building.¡¯

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    It was little more than a squeak that answered him.

    ¡®Good can you tell me what it is?¡¯

    ¡®No. It¡¯s too far. Difficult to describe.¡¯

    Mickie cursed and unsummoned his gun. He was about to dispatch the remaining guard quietly when an idea occurred to him. One relating to his strange form of invisibility.

    ¡®Mag, can I make others invisible by touching them?¡¯

    The little fiend hopped atop the head of the imp he had pinned to the wall.

    ¡®Unfortunately, not dear boy. We can make things that aren¡¯t alive disappear by contact, but not living beings.¡¯

    There went that plan. He had been hoping to make the guard disappear on cameras and have her guide them out. It was not to be. Not only that but time had to be running short, he did not doubt reinforcements were already on their way.

    ¡®Alright, what are the exits to this building? Give me the closest ones.¡¯

    It appeared the guard was done playing along however, it glared at him from its position against the wall.

    ¡®They¡¯re going to take your skin off when they get you.¡¯

    Mickie was not willing to drag out time with further interrogation. He drew the imps head forward in a sharp movement and cracked it against the wall. Miz-Mag jumped from the creature as he did so, cursing loudly.

    ¡®By the blood. At least warn a fiend would you.¡¯

    His companion dusted itself of before moving to the downed leader. As Mickie dropped the final Imp to the floor his companion rummaged around the limp creature¡¯s belt, returning with a card in hand. The duo moved back the way they had come and paused by the doors out.

    ¡®Alright, eyes peeled for any way out. There must be one somewhere.¡¯

    The fiend yapped an affirmation and Mickie pressed his new keycard to the reader. They emerged into the bustling hall and stood before the door, preventing it from opening completely and revealing the crime scene within. Eventually the motor attempting to push past Mickie¡¯s heels gave up and the trio of incapacitated guards vanished from sight with a click. The man and his demon wasted no time merging with the ceaseless stream of individuals moving through the halls. He figured that the exit had to be one of the most travelled routes, so Mickie followed the largest flow of people.

    Currently, his biggest advantage was that so few demons knew what he looked like. Until the imps back at the stairway door reported that information, he could blend seamlessly into the crowds. The trick would be finding a way out before the demons wizened up and found him.

    The flow of mortals and fiends led him through a short, interconnected series of halls. Up ahead there seemed to be a congregation of sorts, an intersection of passages positively teeming with activity. Approaching the potential exit, Mickie winced when a sudden blaring alarm echoed through the cramped passage. It preceded something far worse however, as a raspy voice followed the grating tone.

    ¡®Attention all BCMA personnel. There is a fugitive mortal lose within the facility. Lockdown protocol will be engaged. Ensure you reach your designated lockdown stations as soon as possible. Guards will be armed and¡­¡¯

    Unlike the surrounding staff, Mickie did not come to a stop at the announcement. Instead, he weaved through the crowd, heading right for the busy intersection. As the crackly voice droned into a description of his appearance the branded man barely held back a curse. A demon began to swear at him as he pushed past but cut-off mid word, scanning Mickie¡¯s jacket and jeans. Before the hell spawn could raise the alarm, he and Miz-Mag had pushed their way into an open foyer. It was the standard entrance to an upscale city tower, floor to ceiling windows and swathes of tiled space. Humans and demons alike filled the room, listening to the announcement in confused silence. They appeared to have had their immediate plans prevented by a contingent of guards posted up by the doors, inhibiting entry or exit. Even as Mickie stepped into the crowded foyer, metal shutters began to slide down over the tall windows.

    Back in the hall there was a shout, something about a mortal with a jacket. The sound of it carried across the hall and caught the attention of the guards. Mickie kept his head low as he weaved through the throng, heading not for the doors, but a window. He silently cursed how short the imps were, they were not a great means of cover. It was not long before the guards noted the only individual moving through the throng. Shouts went up for him to stop, though Mickie only pushed to move faster. The metal shutters were already halfway down and moving ever closer to sealing the tower. Mickie did not doubt he could blast a hole through the barrier, it was just a question if he could do so before the guards got to him. It would be better to shatter the glass and slip out before the lockdown was complete.

    ¡®Slave. They told you to stop.¡¯

    A voice thicker than gravel slurry came paired with thick fingers wrapping about Mickie¡¯s bicep. The branded man and his companion turned to face a massive demon. Some kind of fusion between flesh and stone, the creature was at least eight feet tall. It had four arms, one of which was attached to Mickie by a huge hand. By all appearances the monstrous fiend should have been able to turn the human to paste and hand the mush to the guards. However, the creature had made one fatal error. It had given him a chance to retaliate.

    A gun appeared in Mickie¡¯s free hand and with bang he blew the left half of the creature apart. The demon stumbled back and there was a moment of silence. Throughout the foyer every hell spawn and human turned to the mortal with the weapon, steam hissing venting from the device to disperse in the air. Then the wounded giant let lose a roar of pain and all hell broke loose. Everyone ran and pushed to get away from Mickie, rushing into the tower and towards the doors out of it. The guards by the exit were attempting to get a clear shot at him, but the panicked masses were making aiming difficult.

    While Mickie ducked low and ran for the nearest window, a shot rang out from behind, soon followed by more screaming. It appeared one of the guardians by the door had attempted to hit the runaway and clipped someone in the crowd instead. The increased pandemonium was enough for him to reach the window and shoot it with a freshly reloaded gun. Glass shattered and was still falling in a rain as Mickie grabbed Miz-Mag and stuffed the fiend into a jacket pocket. Hopefully his companion would remain in cover. Arms raised to protect his head, the human dove into the deluge of sharp shards.

    The metal barrier still had a few feet to cover, and he tumbled beneath it easily. His clothes provided ample protection from the sharp debris, leaving only his face, hands and feet exposed. A slice on his check stung and pain lanced up a foot as Mickie rose outside the tower. Taking a moment to pull a piece of glass from between his toes, the human¡¯s thoughts came to a stop at the view before him. The tower resided within a courtyard of barren concrete, hemmed by a broad road. Beyond that however, lay the city.

    Haphazard towers of twisted geometry filled the skyline. Constructs of stone and steel, pipework and platforms. It was so chaotic that the disorder felt intentional. Cutting through the warped buildings was a broad road. It formed an incline that rose into the distance, eventually far eclipsing the towers themselves in height. Where the road faded into darkness, Mickie could just barely make out the faint outline of a structure rising into the black.

    The sound of shouting drew the slack jawed man from his observations. Over by the entrance to the facility imps were spilling out with guns at the ready. The guards had exited the building to come after him. Mickie started running for the slopped highway and the tower beyond, gunfire barking after him like an angry dog. Something clipped his shoulder hard, and the mortal was sent rolling along the smooth concrete. Pain was set aside in favour of urgency, and Mickie was up and moving once more, bare feet slapping against the asphalt of the road.

    A distant roar drew his attention from the ongoing gunfire to the sloped highway. Bulky vehicles of dark metal had pulled onto the slope and were gunning right for him. Mickie swore and ducked low, heading for a side street instead. The rain of bullets from the guards finally cut-off as he passed between two bulky towers of grey stone. An empty sidewalk glowing with the light of streetlamps greeted him. The hunted human passed by several alleys, avoiding the first few before turning down one at random, his only real criteria that it took him away from the tower. Contrary to expectations, the narrow path between buildings was well kept. Mickie swerved around pipes protruding from walls as he ran, but at no point did the detritus of life slow his passage.

    The roar of engines echoed through the cramped confines of the alley, undercut further by the occasional loud shout. It seemed the enforcers still had his trail. Ahead the alley was intersected by another, Mickie took a sharp turn to try and shake the pursuing demons. A series of twisting turns and hard sprints followed, until Mickie rounded a bend and almost ran headfirst into a dense web of steel. The alley before him was chocked with pipework, leaving little room for anything but a slow crawl. There was no time to turn back now, shouts were coming from all about as his pursuers encircled the block.

    Getting onto hands and knees, Mickie crawled into the mess connecting the two walls. Steel jarred his sore shoulder, causing him to wince and throw a pained glance at the offending limb. The jacket had held up against the penetration of the gunshot, not even a mark marring the spot where he had been hit. It had done little to prevent the force from hitting his bones like a hammer, however. Mickie figured something was likely broken within the joint, though he could do little about it. The ever-growing sound of pursuit was the larger issue, a noose tightening about his neck.

    Finally making it to the end of the pipework Mickie crawled free, only to curse the moment he stood up. Miz-Mag, who to this point had been silent in his pocket, poked its head out to give a bleary look around.

    ¡®How in the nine did you get us into this much of a bind kid?¡¯

    They had emerged into a stretch of alley, though one ending in the solid stone base of a tall building. It was a dead end. Mickie ran to the barrier and found the space between buildings hardly wider than a couple of hand spans. Miz-Mag could make it, but he certainly did not have a chance of squeezing through. The sound of methodical pursuit was close, calls for location and checks that little chance for him to slip by.

    Casting about for some means of escape, Mickie¡¯s eyes landed on the mess of pipework he had just exited. The steel barrier ran a good way up the length of the buildings it connected, ending at a distant rooftop. It could work, though he was at risk of being spotted during the extended climb. With no other options remaining, the branded man hooked his good arm around a pipe and hauled himself into the air. It was not easy going, though his shoulder hurt less with each moment it still made pulling with his left arm all but useless.

    Disaster struck as he attempted to grab hold of a smaller metal tube, only to have it pull free the moment he put weight on it. The desperate and painful grab he made with his injured arm in response was not enough to regain balance. As a result, Mickie dropped the loose pipe to free up his other hand. The loose debris fell the couple of stories he had climbed to clatter against the concrete below. The racket it made carried through the ongoing thrum of background city noise, a clear signal to any enforcers hunting nearby.

    It was not long before Mickie heard the grunts and grumbles of a demon passing under the pipes. All he could do in response was huddle down and hope the hunter failed to look up. A form came into sight, an imp by all appearances. Yet as the fiend stood Mickie realised it had not come alone. Yanking on a lead, the red hell-spawn pulled an odd creature free of the crawl space and into the alley¡¯s end. It was pale, with skin that glistened in the faint light. Four reptilian legs held the body low to the ground, bunched tight with muscle that the imp struggled to shift.

    ¡®It¡¯s a fuckin¡¯ dead-end. Nothing here but dust, I¡¯d say your losing your touch Clappin.¡¯

    The enforcer shouted into the web of metal while adjusting its body armour. A response came near immediately, echoing through the tangled mess of steel.

    ¡®I know what I heard. Get the slithestra to check, though I doubt it¡¯ll work, the useless beast.¡¯

    Grumbling at the rebuke, the demon kicked aside the loose pipe and turned to its creepy pet.

    ¡®Come on then Dinky, grab a whiff.¡¯

    Mickie watched in morbid curiosity as the slimy reptile¡¯s smooth head unfurled like a flower. Folds of flesh curled back to reveal a glistening interior of red, interspersed with fibrous bristles. The living rose tilted towards the sky and Mickie noted a deep inhalation by the expansion of its stomach. He realised then that he was completely screwed. Clearly this animal was used for tracking purposes, and looking at that head, it had an insane sense of smell.

    Sure enough, the slithestra hauled upon its leash as it caught a scent. Only it did not turn towards him. The pale dog-lizard pulled forward, dragging its imp towards the end of the alley. They came to a stop before a feature Mickie had overlooked in his earlier panic. Against one of the walls, set into the floor, was a lengthy section of painted metal. The white animal ran straight for it, thin tongues emerging from its head to caress the surface.

    ¡®Woah ho ho, we got something! I told you Dinky always pulls through, don¡¯t ya girl?¡¯

    The imp patted the slippery back of its charge, though the creature paid him little mind.

    ¡®You found the mortal?¡¯

    An excited response preceded frantic shuffling and grunting. A second demon emerged from the pipes to join the first, not an imp but something closer to Mickie¡¯s own height. Grey skin, devoid of hair, hung from a frame with long limbs. Large flaps dangled from the side of its head, and it took him a moment to realise they were ears. The gangly creature stood and dusted itself off before examining the empty alley.

    ¡®I don¡¯t see a mortal.¡¯

    The over excited imp seemed not to notice the irritation in its partner¡¯s tone.

    ¡®That would be because it¡¯s gone below, look how keen Dinky is on that cover.¡¯

    Indeed, the strange dog-lizard was attempting to nose its way past the metal plate. Numerous fleshy strands curled and tugged at any gaps, though they failed to gain enough purchase to shift heavy barrier. The Imp enthusiastically hauled his pet aside, then motioned its partner towards the covering.

    ¡®Shift it would you, we should take a look.¡¯

    The elephant eared demon hesitated at the coating of slime the creepy animal had applied to the old metal. Even now the pale beast¡¯s head flaps quivered as it strained against its leash.

    ¡®Can¡¯t you? I mean, you are closer to the ground than me.¡¯

    ¡®You got salt for brains? I¡¯ve got to manage Dinky. Go on, hurry up.¡¯

    With great reluctance the taller of the pair hooked its fingers in small handholds before shifting the plate aside. The moment a dark tunnel was revealed the metal was dropped to the ground with a thud. The grey demon wiped its fingers of in disgust as it peered into the darkness. Nearby, the imp was desperately attempting to control its pet as the beast strained to reach the open hole.

    ¡®Well, what¡¯s down there?¡¯

    The wrinkled fiend stared into the pit for a silent few moments before letting lose an abrupt curse.

    ¡®By the blood. We didn¡¯t find the mortal, we found a damned Urchin den.¡¯

    Though the name meant nothing to Mickie, the discovery appeared to be of some import. The imp was so shocked it dropped the leash of the slithestra. In moments the pale beast was diving headfirst into the hole, vanishing from sight.

    ¡®Shit! Dinky!¡¯

    ¡®Idiot!¡¯

    The two enforcers both leapt for the vanishing leash but got in each other¡¯s way. They rolled on the floor as their charge disappeared into darkness. While the imp appeared ready to jump right in the flappy eared demon grabbed hold of it, lifting the smaller creature from the ground.

    ¡®You idiot! If that stinking beast ruins our chance at a raid, it¡¯ll be both our hides.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ve got to get her. She just smelled a human is all.¡¯

    Panic laced the smaller fiend¡¯s words, it clearly wished to take off after the wayward lizard-dog.

    ¡®Right. You need to go get the slithestra and keep it from fucking anything else up. I¡¯m going to go grab the chief, if the den has anything in it, we need to strike before they realise their caught out. I¡¯ll be back soon, so get the beast and hold, it, steady.¡¯

    While far calmer than its companion, the taller demon¡¯s tone was laced with frustrated anger. The imp was more than happy to agree, taking off into the hole the moment its feet touched the ground. With a final glare and curse for its clumsy companion, the remaining fiend turned and crawled back into the wall of pipes.

    ¡®Welp, I have no idea what just happened,¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s voiced Mickie¡¯s own thoughts perfectly. It appeared that the duo of enforcers had been using a combination of sound and smell to hunt them. Yet for some reason the pale beast on which they had been relying had failed to detect Mickie. Not only that, but it found something else entirely. The branded man recalled they had called the hole in the ground an Urchin den, he would have to remember that. For now however, they needed to make use of their pursuers distraction. Mickie gradually swung back out from his nook amongst the pipes and began the climb anew. If the enforcers were going to keep their eyes on the ground, then the rooftops were by far the best choice.

    The small rest had done wonders for Mickie¡¯s shoulder, and the duo made good time up the cylindrical forest of steel. Occasionally there would be a shout from within the opened crevasse below, the imp calling to its pet. As they neared the top of a building however the shouts suddenly spiked in both intensity and frequency. The imp started screaming madly, yelling at something to stay back. With a hand reaching for the concrete edge of a roof, Mickie froze. He glanced back down to the open pit and saw occasional flashes of torchlight. It must have been the imp, screaming as it ran from some unseen foe. The shouts reached a feverous pitch, then with a faint gasp, tumbled into groaning sobs. Words were spoken in an incoherent jumble that Mickie could not make out.

    A sudden clang from below broke him from his distraction. It was followed by a demon cursing in a deep voice, different from the duo he had heard earlier. Mickie swiftly caught hold of the adjacent rooftop and pulled himself onto its concrete balustrade. A final peak revealed a bulky form of glistening black scales, dragging itself out of the pipe work. Unwilling to risk being spotted, he rolled onto the roof and motioned for Miz-Mag to observe. The little demon was more than happy to lean over the side and relate the events within the alley.

    ¡®The imp¡¯s gotten mighty quiet. Whatever¡¯s in that pit sure ain¡¯t friendly.¡¯

    He rolled his eyes, that was not exactly an update.

    ¡®There¡¯s a big old demon checking out the whole, some kind of snake monster. Oh, and the other grey fellow from before is crawling out the pipes to join him.¡¯

    A deep voice rumbled up over the building¡¯s wall, just audible enough for Mickie to make out.

    ¡®The fool went into the den, did he?¡¯

    The response was in the recognizable voice of the grey demon, though it held the rigidity of reporting soldier.

    ¡®Yes sir. The slithestra got loose and ran into the Urchin den. My partner followed soon after to secure it.¡¯

    ¡®Then that would have been him I heard dying before.¡¯

    There was weary resignation in the statement. The voice of someone reaching an unwanted but expected conclusion.

    ¡®I believe so sir.¡¯

    If the death of its partner fazed the fiend, it was not betrayed in its response. Miz-Mag had been staying silent so they could listen, but now piped up in a rapid whisper.

    ¡®The big guy is turning back, heading for the pipes. I think he¡¯s going to leave.¡¯

    ¡®Sir, what about the den?¡¯

    The voice of the remaining enforcer reached them as Mickie¡¯s companion finished its explanation.

    ¡®We¡¯ll need a specialist force, though I doubt there will be anything left after your partner¡¯s efforts. Call dispatch and join a new team, we have a mortal to catch.¡¯

    ¡®Yes sir.¡¯

    Soon after Miz-Mag reported that the duo had left the alley, apparently to rejoin the hunt for him. Giving his demonic pursuers enough time to get some distance, the branded man eventually shifted onto his knees. Peering back over the side provided no new insight as to what this Urchin den was. Looking into the hole¡¯s dark depths Mickie felt he could almost make something out. A glint in the black, like eyes reflecting light. Then it was gone, leaving him questioning if there had been anything there at all.

    ¡®That sure was exciting kid. Now we just need to get off this roof.¡¯

    Mickie nodded, still not comfortable enough to voice a response with the patrols about. The rooftop upon which they stood appeared like any other in the living world. A concrete surface, hosting several vents and whirring fan units. Disjointed buildings hemmed the duo in on all sides, lights shinning from the occasional window up above. Beyond the high rises was a void that swallowed all light, a darkness that obscured the rocky ceiling. It reminded him of the abyss below the palace, and the mortal suppressed a shudder as he turned away.

    ¡®This place is a maze.¡¯

    His small companion spun about on its concrete perch.

    ¡®That it is. Glad we got that butt ugly tower as a guide.¡¯

    The little demon leapt atop Mickie¡¯s shoulder as he stood. Unless they wanted to climb back down into the mess of alleyways, their options were limited. Luckily for the duo, the buildings in the black city differed from the usual high rises on earth in their manner of design.

    The structure about them were messy, with jutting overhangs, extruding pipework and haphazard balconies up their length. Mickie¡¯s surrounds were so uniformly unique that it made the normal rooftop on which he stood appear as the oddity. The wacky cityscape did offer something other than confusing geometry however, a path forward. With his demonic powers the mortal was certain he could make his way above the alleys and emerge outside the cordoned zone. If he could manage that then slip into a crowd, it would be near impossible for the enforcers to find him.

    It did not take long for him to find the tower in which he had arrived. It loomed above all the other buildings, a dark observer to a city of perpetual night. Unlike the surrounding structures, this one was composed of black panelling, making it appear sleek and sinister. The spire did not end in the traditional point one might expect, rather there was something perched atop its peak. Like a cauldron balanced on a pencil, this round structure appeared far too large for its position. It was so far up that significant details were difficult to make out, though he could see lines running from the monstrous bowl into the city. Tethers perhaps? Or maybe alternate paths to the construction? Either way the landmark made for an effective means of orientation.

    Mickie turned from the spire and made his way to a promising edge of the rooftop. Across a narrow gap an odd section of steel protruded from one of the misshapen buildings. It ran up the length of the structure, passing by a narrow ledge to join with the base of an overhang. Stopping a few steps from the open air, Mickie prepared himself for the jump.

    ¡®You ready Mag?¡¯

    He spoke low, wary of attracting a nearby enforcer¡¯s attention. On his shoulder the little demon latched onto his jacket¡¯s collar.

    ¡®You know it kid. Let¡¯s thread this needle.¡¯

    A few steps later he was flying towards the metal spine, hands grabbing hold and feet springboarding against concrete panelling. In moments the mortal was pulling himself onto the nearby ledge, pressing against the wall to stay out of sight.

    ¡®Well, that wasn¡¯t so bad.¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s chipper squeak was right in his ear.

    ¡®Now we just have to do it another few hundred times.¡¯

    This was going to take a while.

    <hr>

    An indeterminate amount of time was spent slinking from overhang to rooftop, scrambling along pipes and jumping deadly gaps. At one stage the pair were forced to bunker down on a balcony as the narrow alley floor became flooded with sound and movement. While the event itself had risked exposer to uncountable eyeballs, the aftermath left him feeling rather optimistic. This had to be another shift change, just like what had been happening in the central spire. If he was not spotted, this influx of mortals and demons would wreak havoc on any hunting attempt.

    Soon after, the growing desperation of his pursuers was confirmed. A hissing sound had Mickie ducking low, only to straighten out when a metallic object zipped by overhead. It appeared to be some form of drone, equipped with a swivelling camera and deadly looking turret. Too bad the device had no chance of spotting him. The enforcers had to know he did not appear on digital observation. The fact they were even trying indicated the ground patrols were losing hope. Mickie stood to get moving as the whirring drone darted around a corner and vanished from sight. Sudden voices from the alley below had him dropping swiftly back into cover.

    ¡®Damned never going to find the blighter with this tech. I heard it don¡¯t even appear on camera.¡¯

    ¡®You hear that when you were kissing the captain¡¯s bunghole?¡¯

    Enforcers by the sounds of it, a pair of them. They were not the first he had slunk by, though most were not this vocal. There was a shove and a shout from the alley.

    ¡®Watch it, or I¡¯ll send you Urchin hunting once I get the new office.¡¯

    A grumbled response came that Mickie could not make out, when the first voice spoke again it sounded smug.

    ¡®That¡¯s what I thought.¡¯

    Silence returned briefly before the smug demon¡¯s loud rasp reached him once more, this time from further down the alley.

    ¡®I reckon it¡¯s sabotage that they won¡¯t let us deploy flyers. I bet they don¡¯t even want us to catch the bastard.¡¯

    The duo was getting further away, and Mickie did not here the other fiend¡¯s response. It must have been insulting because the voice reached him a final time, fading as the enforcers walked away.

    ¡®Get stuffed. The boss knows what he¡¯s about. It¡¯s higher up, I bet it¡¯s that slimy bastard¡­¡¯

    Mickie waited until he was certain the demons had moved on before continuing. The contents of their conversation had been interesting, though nothing that he could really use. It sounded as if the enforcers had attempted to deploy some form of aerial surveillance beyond the drones. An attempt that had apparently been blocked by someone up the chain of command.

    Another period of tense climbing followed the encounter with the chatty demons. When distraction next came it was in the form of a rocky cliff face. Mickie had just swung around the side of a building to land on a slanted overhang when it appeared. Only a few towers away the alley ended abruptly, the structures to either side replaced with grey stone. While steep, the cliff was not overly tall, only slightly higher than his own current elevation. Beyond the earthen barrier were more buildings, shorter and more ragged than those within this sunken portion of the city. It was the perfect place in which to disappear.

    ¡®Well, I¡¯ll be, guess lady luck does swing by Hell on occasion.¡¯

    Miz-Mag was just as pleasantly surprised as its mortal partner. While the cliff might deter most denizens of this realm, they had almost already cleared the rock wall. It was a straightforward path among the twisted high rises for the pair to close in on the next level. In short order Mickie was swinging onto a balcony that overlooked the open air above the cliff. He took a moment to gauge the jump. It was quite a distance, necessitated by the gap between his building and floor beyond. The jump would not be pleasant, but all he had to do was clear a dozen or so meters of open ground before reaching the next warren of alleys. There was a good chance he would be spotted, but it would be easy to slip away without enforcers in every direction.

    ¡®Okay. Here were go.¡¯

    A few steps run up was all the balcony provided. The duo used them as best they could, launching onto the metal guard rail and flying towards the stony earth. Wind roared in Mickie¡¯s ear and the corners of his lips twitched up in a smile of exhilaration. Then they met the ground, and he was rolling with the impact, strange demon bones handling the fall with little difficulty. A distant shout reached Mickie, but it was too late, he was already vanishing into the warren cramped buildings.

    <hr>

    In the distance an imp assigned to patrol the city edge had seen the mortal jump. It knew something was going on down near the sunken tower, though no one had deemed to tell it what. It had called out to the foolish creature, only to be surprised once more when the human rolled to its feet and ran for the warren. How in the nine could one of the slaves shrugged off such a jump? Movement from nearby drew the guard¡¯s attention. Something across the gap had shifted within the shadows, though he saw nothing when he looked. Strange, for just a moment the imp could have sworn it saw a figure standing in the dark.

 12 â€“ Stalking Shadows

    The next level of the city was a cramped maze of stacked tenancies. Lights were strewn about buildings, a confusing mix of fluorescence and neon that disoriented as much as it illuminated. Narrow balconies and walkways clogged the air above, making the blackened sky only visible for small moments. The warren of twisting pathways was the perfect place for a man and demon to lose their pursuers. While the branded mortal would have to pause at some stage to get his bearings, Mickie was more concerned about putting some distance between himself and the enforcers. He had spent a good portion of his life in places like this and knew how reluctant the policing force would be to enter the maze.

    Unlike the sunken district of abstract towers, these streets were far from empty. Demons of all varieties moved amongst the interconnected floors, like ants in a nest. They paid him little heed, only appearing to take any notice of the mortal when he got in the way. Occasionally Mickie would spot loitering clusters of fiends down streets and alleys, huddled in low circles. At one stage he was brought to a standstill by the scene of a shakedown in progress. A gaggle of insectile demons surrounded a much larger hell spawn, threatening it with heavy looking batons. It was not out of sympathy for the lonely victim that he stopped, however. Rather, it was the assailants themselves that caused Mickie duck beside the alley entrance to watch the robbery in progress.

    In his occasional glimpses, Mickie had begun to note a pattern in the composition of the gangs. While the demons that composed each cluster were endlessly varied, they all held a common thread. There was always at least one of these insects in the mix. They were hunched things, perhaps five feet tall on average. If they wore anything at all it was long cloaks that hung just below oddly jointed knees. The reason from the lack of garb was made apparent by the four limbs emerging from a chitinous torso. Adding in the creepy mix of locust and human features they had for a head, and these demons were a disturbingly memorable sight. Watching the cornered fiend take a swing and catch a baton in the back, Mickie concluded that all the gangs he had seen to this point were likely under the same banner. These insects probably ran some form of syndicate, one that he had fled unknowingly into. Depending on the influence held by this group, they could pose both a benefit and a liability. On one hand crime organisations did not take kindly to organised policing forces entering their territory. On the other they could be a nightmare to deal with if you got on their bad side. He knew that from experience.

    So, as the robbery transitioned to a full beatdown, the man and the demon snuck away. With his new deduction of their current situation, Mickie felt it better to be cautious than outright speedy. He needed to fly under the radar and use the gang to his advantage. Though it would be wise to slip out of the district as soon as possible. To that end the mortal went looking for a way up to the raised walkways. If he could catch sight of the central spire, he could orient himself and hopefully make a direct line away from the enforcers. A downcast human clued him in to the location of a shadowed staircase as they stepped out. The individual passed Mickie without even looking up, though at this stage he had grown used to the downtrodden demeanour of his fellow mortals. Reaching a raised path crudely welded to the cramped buildings, he located the massive ball structure hanging above the tiered metropolis. Its position to his right indicated how turned around he had gotten with the warren of builings.

    ¡®Kid. Something¡¯s watching us.¡¯

    The squeaky whisper was so sudden it made him jump. Rather than look to Miz-Mag for confirmation Mickie immediately scanned his surroundings for a threat. A fellow human, a pair of raged imps and a harassed looking humanoid fiend, but nothing looking his way. Strange, his companion had sounded frantic, almost fearful. He gave the demon a questioning look.

    ¡®Can¡¯t you see it? There, under the landing.¡¯

    Mickie followed the tiny red finger to a small set of stairs connecting the raised walkway to a building¡¯s entrance. Beneath the landing was a shadowy recess, darkened by the poor lighting. He squinted into the space and saw nothing, no glint of eyes or distortion of movement. Yet Miz-Mag had sounded adamant. Mickie turned to ask the diminutive demon what it had seen when he caught something in his periphery. A moving outline, fast and near imperceptible. It was for less than an instant, but it was enough for the wary mortal. Without reacting to the shifting shadow, Mickie moved to the stairs and returned to a lower level. Whatever had bean beneath those stairs was dangerously fast, and he did not want to give away the fact they had noticed it. Mickie was unsure he would be able to get away from it in open pursuit, and he did not want to attract the gang¡¯s notice with incautious movement. For now, it would be better to have Miz-Mag observe and report if they were being trailed.

    ¡®Hey Mag, keep an eye out, will you?¡¯

    Entering the noisy streets once more, he felt comfortable in a whispered request. It would be impossible to make out his voice amongst the ongoing clamour of the city.

    ¡®You got it kid.¡¯

    They set out once more, switching direction at a promising intersection to move away from the central spire. For a time, the duo travelled in tense but untroubled silence. Mickie caught sight of another couple of gang clusters, though Miz-Mag made no report of the strange shadow following them. Just as Mickie began to grow comfortable in the prospect of their escape the little demon on his shoulder tensed up.

    ¡®Kid, I got something.¡¯

    At that moment a trio of cloaked insects emerged from an alley up ahead. They near immediately spotted Mickie, and after a whispered discussion began walking his way with purpose. The branded man had no clue what drew their attention, but the timing could not have been worse.

    ¡®It¡¯s behind us kid, definitely following.¡¯

    Mickie desperately wanted to turn and catch a glimpse of their shadowy pursuer, but the trio of insects were almost upon him. He turned his eyes to the ground, hoping they still might let him slip past. However the insects spread out as they closed, attempting to hem him in.

    ¡®Hey slave. You look mighty familiar. Stop for a quick word would you.¡¯

    The demon¡¯s voice was a disturbing buzzing gurgle, as unappealing as the creatures themselves. Mickie did not even bother to glance up, moving ahead with his head down. Before the insectile creature could continue he was pushing past it. The gang members seemed frozen in place for a moment, shocked by his complete dismissal. However, their inaction did not hold for long and in moments a clawed hand had grasped Mickie¡¯s arm.

    ¡®You brain dead slave? Speak when spoken to.¡¯

    With a yank his arm came free from the demon¡¯s hold.

    ¡®Shadow¡¯s moving in kid. I can see it, shaped like one of you humans.¡¯

    With a trio of angry demon¡¯s behind him, and a shadowy pursuer closing in, Mickie let caution fall to the wayside. He had hoped the insects might show restraint on such a busy street, however it appeared they were more than willing to go at him in the open. Perhaps word of his flight had been spread, maybe even a bounty placed upon his head. Dashing down the alley at a sprint, Mickie gave his predicament no further thought beyond how to escape it.

    For all that the gang members were sleek in form, they were not altogether fast. In almost no time at all, Mickie had outstripped the trio and was taking several swift turns to lose them entirely. He weaved through crowded confines, clambering up along rickety walkways when the streets became too cramped for his rapid pace.

    ¡®Nice work kid, we definitely dropped those demons, can¡¯t see our shadowy friend either.¡¯

    Mickie vaulted the rail on a raised path to land just within a quiet alley. Heading back onto the bustling streets, the hunted human was once again walking undisturbed. While the demon¡¯s might be onto him, Mickie was just one human among multitudes. If he kept his head down it should still be possible to fly under the radar. Their peace was destined to be short lived however, as Miz-Mag started before whispering in his ear.

    ¡®I see it again. Damn thing got ahead of us.¡¯

    ¡®Where?¡¯

    It appeared their silent tail was not so easily deterred.

    ¡®Level up on the left, hiding in the shadow of a doorframe.¡¯

    Doing his best to not directly peer at the indicated spot Mickie performed a scan of their. Sure enough there was a tall figure, veiled within darkness cast by neon light. He did not dare look straight at it, so all Mickie could glean from his brief glimpse was a vague humanoid outline. The creature meshed seamlessly into the backdrop of the noisy streets, without Miz-Mag he would never have spotted it.

    ¡®What even is it?¡¯

    ¡®No idea kid. Only thing I¡¯ve ever seen that sneaky before is me.¡¯

    They were closing in on the raised shadow, and Mickie was wary of continuing to speak.

    ¡®Keep an eye on it, see if you can figure out why its tailing us but not attacking.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave its ascent and the pair continued as if nothing were amiss. It took all the self-control Mickie could muster to not peek up at the door frame when they passed below. His neck itched with the expectation of a blow that never came as they passed their pursuer.

    ¡®Alright, its back on our heels, keeping a steady distance.¡¯

    He wanted to curse. Why was this this only following them? It played on Mickie¡¯s nerves as they wandered ever onwards. The shadow was always following, and as time wore on it began to close on the duo. Miz-Mag would lose sight of the figure only for Mickie to stumble upon glimpsing movement out of the corner of his eye. He ached to call his gun forth, but doing so would not go unnoticed in this bustling district.

    ¡®Shit. Dead ahead.¡¯

    Mickie looked up to find the street beyond them devoid of life. The ever-present flow of demons and mortals alike had been purposefully halted by a large group of insectile thugs. Even as he watched more piled out of an alley to take up positions in their path. His stomach dropped, and Mickie turned about to find yet more bugs shuffling out of buildings and dropping from raised pathways. Only now he realised what their shadowy pursuer¡¯s intent had been. To shepherd them straight into a trap.

    ¡®It¡¯s up above. On the platform.¡¯

    Knowing that he had been duped, Mickie gave up any pretence of subtlety and looked straight at the creature. The moving shadow appeared to have also dropped its game of hide and seek. On the highest level of rickety paths stood a figure draped in darkness. In the glaring lights of the labyrinthine warren, he realised it was wearing some kind of cloth. A full body covering that seemed to blur at the edges, making it difficult to focus on the demon itself. Mickie¡¯s eyes drifted instead to the one feature that was not hidden behind the strange fabric. A set of eyes, red and sharp as a hawk¡¯s. In them Mickie could make out no amusement or satisfaction at his plight, only cold calculation.

    ¡®Hello slave. We had reports you were scampering about our nest. So nice of you to come and pay tribute.¡¯

    An insect emerged from the pack blocking his path, strutting with a confident gait. It spoke in the same buzzing gurgle as the trio he had encountered before, though with a tone dripping in satisfaction.

    ¡®Heard you came from the tower. Black Watch was gunning for you pretty hard for a while there.¡¯

    Mickie gave the demon his full attention. It move towards him at a steady pace with a baton in each hand. Looking at the surrounding ambush, he realised that none of the fiends had anything worse that a heavy stick. They must be planning to take him alive. The branded man flexed his right hand, perhaps he could still get through this.

    ¡®Well slave? You going to speak? Or do we have to make you talk?¡¯

    It was getting close now, shifting the pair of batons to a ready position for a strike. Mickie slowly inhaled, and in doing so empty his mind of its circling thoughts. He needed to be scarier than the demons themselves to make it out of here.

    ¡®Something I¡¯ve noticed.¡¯

    He spoke with a steady cadence, not to the approaching demon but to those still barricade his path forward.

    ¡®Is that you bugs have rather scrawny necks.¡¯

    Legs bunched and launched him forth. The bug coming at him was startled, but still swung its batons to strike the aggressive human. Mickie was already in its guard however and he grasped the insect as its weapons thudded into his back. Even with the swing coming from a weak angle it hit hard. As scrawny as these demons appeared, they still packed a punch. Mickie took hold of the demon¡¯s shoulders, pinning it for a moment. Unlike the Palace Lord, the heads of these beings followed a different route. Compound eyes reflected an uncountable number of gloved hands as Mickie reached forward. Fingers pushed into a surface that was strangely rigid, like half frozen jelly. He twisted and pulled, ripping the insect¡¯s right eye straight from its head.

    The creature let lose a gurgling wail and attempted to back away. Mickie intended to keep it pinned with his free hand but found the strength of the bug overpowering. Instead, he moved within it, stepping into the body of the creature and tripping its oddly jointed legs. The demon lost its leverage and Mickie pounced on the flailing creature. He spun it as it fell, turning the bug to face its stunned brethren. One hand grabbed an empty eye socket, the other a shoulder. With a savage twist Mickie snapped the screaming fiend¡¯s neck. Its cries gurgled to a halt, and Mickie dropped his dying assailant to the floor. It landed in a boneless heap and, too his shock, the damaged head popped free of the body. The ichor coated ball rolled from the corpse, coming to rest beside Mickie¡¯s bare foot.

    ¡®By the blood. Your tore its head off kid.¡¯

    Surprised that mirrored Miz-Mag¡¯s own flittered about the hollow man¡¯s mind, but he paid it no heed. The goal had been to appear savage; this was to his advantage. Mickie scooped up the dripping head and stepped over the bug¡¯s corpse. Holding the grisly trophy with a loose grip, he started towards the blockade of insects. They watched him approach in wary silence, fear keeping their batons at bay for a shocked few moments. For all these bugs were terrifying demons, they were also thugs of a kind with which Mickie was familiar. Driven by an unstable mix of loyalty and self-interest, it was easy to throw them off by inducing a healthy dose of fear.

    The group would inevitably overcome Mickie if they were to swarm him, but none wanted to be the first out the gate. Inevetably however, something would set them straight, and Mickie knew it almost time to act when a taller bug spoke up.

    ¡®Don¡¯t just stand there, you cowards. Get the stinkin¡¯ mortal.¡¯

    Judging by the demon¡¯s position near the back, Mickie guessed it to be a leader of some form. The insect sounded disdainful of its brethren, playing on their pride to spark a reaction. However, the gang did not immediately charge. Initially responses to the call were lacklustre, some grumbling and shifting of stances.

    ¡®Looks like I¡¯m stuck with the mother¡¯s shit, not her spawn. You¡¯re all softer than that fleshy slave. How ¡®bout this then, first one to belt that skin-sack gets primo seat at the hall tonight.¡¯

    Mickie had no idea what a primo seat was, but it must have been something special. Immediately all the demons perked up and turned greedy eyes upon him. The problem with praying on self-interest, was that it could just as easily be swung back against you. He was prepared for this however, being little more than a few strides from the barrier of agitated insects. Before the first bug could charge Mickle lobbed the bloody head of their companion into the front ranks of the crowd. The demons closest to the disturbing object staggered back, only to be met with those begining to surge forwards.

    In the minor confusion that followed, the man and his demon closed the remaining distance and Mickie called forth his gun. Something he had realised when he saw the batons amongst the assailants, was that they lacked knowledge of his most potent weapon. If the demon¡¯s knew he could call on a deadly firearm at will, there was no way they would have met him with wooden sticks. So, when the apparently insane mortal before them raised an evil looking firearm, the insects seemed understandably confused. Mickie willed the wolf¡¯s head into place, and it spun to the top with a heavy click.

    There was a moment of silence in which the gang members seem to register what was about to happen. Then he fired into their midst with a breath of sulphuric fumes. From this distance the blast caught three insects, continuing to send several more sprawling in various states of misery. The attack seemed to send the unprepared gang into a mixture of panic and fury. Screams of pain intermingled with shouts of anger as Mickie charged the opening he had carved into their ranks.

    A baton cracked painfully into his ribs, a claw grasped for his arm but failed to find purchase. An insect moved in front of Mickie, and he barrelled right into it. The demons might have been strong, but they were not overly heavy. He lifted the chitinous creature right off the ground and flung it aside, clearing the path to freedom. One final insect that had been hanging at the back attempted to bar his passage, but it staggered back when he raised his steaming gun. The weapon might have still been in its reload cycle, but the bugs didn¡¯t know that.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    By the time the demon realised he could not shoot, Mickie was gone. It took a few moments for the gang to realised he had slipped their grasp. When his escape finally registered the cries of anger and outrage chased him down the streets. Without paying any attention to direction he fled through the cramped warren of tenements. The world narrowed to the path ahead, turn after turn, jumping onto raised walkways, barging through a group surrounding an alley trash fire. Miz-Mag screamed encouragement as the disparate lights became a strobing mass that ached behind his eyes. There was no time to check if the shadow was still following them, speed outweighed all caution.

    Even with his demonic body Mickie¡¯s lungs began to burn. His movements became clumsier until he slipped on a grimy piece of detritus and tumbled around a corner. Scrambling back to his feet the gasping mortal was met with a dead end. Ahead the buildings came to a stop at a familiar ridge of rough stone. It stretched upwards, terminating in what had to be the next level of the city. Mickie moved to the stone wall, searching for some path up its steep incline. Unlike the sunken towers however, this hive of activity held no buildings tall enough to surpass the barrier. They were stuck.

    ¡®Welp kid, that¡¯s rough. At least we shook the bugs.¡¯

    Miz-Mag poked its tiny head out from one of his jacket pockets. His partner clambered back to its usual perch and glanced about their surroundings.

    ¡®At least we can take it easy again. I¡¯d say we just follow the wall ¡®till we find a way up.¡¯

    It was essentially their only option at this point, Mickie opened his mouth to agree when his companion abruptly stiffened.

    ¡®Kid. It¡¯s here.¡¯

    He didn¡¯t need to be told twice. Looking to the pathways above it did not take long to pinpoint a blurred figure within the dark. Instead of pretending ignorance Mickie glared straight at it, his gun held loose by his side.

    ¡®I¡¯m getting tired of you. I¡¯d recommend you get lost.¡¯

    From the oval outline of a head with red eyes came into focus. As they met his own the figure straightened and dropped lightly to the alley floor.

    ¡®It is rare for a mortal to be so perceptive.¡¯

    The voice was quiet, but it cut with an edge of hard ice.

    ¡®Your kind are normally blind to anything but themselves.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s grip tightened on his weapon.

    ¡®Well, I can see you, and unless you move real quick, I¡¯ll kill you too.¡¯

    ¡®You cannot harm me, though that is an interesting item that you hold. The result of a deal made, no doubt.¡¯

    The branded man did not bother replying. He started towards the shadow cloaked fiend, raising his gun to blast it aside. The unshakable stalker was blocking his way out of the alley, and he could not afford to stand around talking. A shiny leopard¡¯s head snarled, and Mickie fired in a burst of black smoke. From this close there was no chance of missing. In fact, his attack should have blown the top half of the demon clean off. Instead, its form burst into a writhing mass of darkness, sourceless shadow given life. A pair of veiled legs protruded from the uncanny display, stationary as the tendrils of darkness twisted and folded in on themselves.

    ¡®By the blood.¡¯

    Miz-Mag let out a soft curse, only able to watch alongside Mickie as their silent foe reformed from darkness itself. Mere seconds after the branded man had shot the fiend, it stood whole before them once more.

    ¡®You cannot kill me. Now mortal, you will come willingly, or I will take you by force. There are no alternatives.¡¯

    There was no surprise or sadism in the veiled demon¡¯s icy words. It spoke only with deadly surety. Mickie was speechless. He had blown apart heavy metal doors with his gun, had killed one of the Mechanist¡¯s robotic forms. How could something of simple flesh and blood simply have shrugged off his attack like it was nothing? Unless it was not flesh and blood. An uncomfortable wariness settled in his chest. A few long moments had stretched since the demon made its declaration. The creature did not seem overly pressed for time, happy to wait for its prey to make a move. The metal weapon in Mickie¡¯s hand clicked and he fired straight into torso of the fiend. Again, the demon¡¯s form exploded into a mass of writhing darkness. Except this time the twisting shadows were topped by an intact head. Red eyes stared the cornered human down as the fiend¡¯s body reformed. The process ended with it standing intact before them once more.

    ¡®Futility truly is a hallmark of the damned.¡¯

    All he could do was stand there in impotent frustration as the gun hissed and rotated barrels. This was not a foe he could best. All that left was an attempt at escape. The wolf¡¯s head clicked into position and Mickie sprung into action. He moved to dart by the shadow clad demon, firing into it legs. While the attack had the same effect as all the others before, it also served to delay the response of his pursuer. The red eyed fiend¡¯s legs disappeared in a blast of shadow as he dove past. A blade appeared right before his eyes, yet vanished into black fog when it made contact with him. Unable to pause and consider the attack, or the fact it had no effect, Mickie was on his feet in moments and running.

    As it stood the best way to the next level was the sloped road he had seen from the central spire. It appeared to be the main avenue between the massive steps that made up the sunken city. Dashing madly onwards he always kept the cliff to his right, hoping to follow its curve to the road. Any passerby that blocked his path was simply bowled over, be it mortal or demon. Miz-Mag was perched atop his shoulder and keeping an eye on their surround. Knowing what his partner was looking for, Mickie was fast to react when it shouted a warning.

    ¡®Kid, right side. Shit! Get down!¡¯

    He did not hesitate and dropped low for a few strides. It was just in time too, as something blurred over his head, clipping his scalp with a stinging line of fire. The shadowy pursuer seemed to have realised how durable his clothes were and gone for the head. Miz-Mag¡¯s assistance had been timely however, the throwing knife that clattered against the concrete walkway might have done more than scratch him otherwise. He took the next available turn, knowing that now demon was on them it would be difficult to shake. Perhaps if he could get it in the open, he could slow it with another shot from his gun. Yet Mickie hardly made more than a dozen paces around the corner before he stumbled. A wave of vertigo had abruptly come over him and left a numb lethargy as it receded. Heedless of the issue, he made another few staggering steps before his legs locked up. Miz-Mag cursed as Mickie tumbled to the hard floor, his limbs failing him.

    ¡®Kid, what are you doing? We need to run!¡¯

    His mouth felt as if it were filled with wet cement.

    ¡®The knife. Poison.¡¯

    It had to be. There was nothing else that could have brought upon this immobility so suddenly. As if to confirm his slurred statement, a figure dropped from a nearby rooftop. It touched down lightly and walked casually towards the immobile human. Mickie saw blood red eyes glinting with a callous cold.

    ¡®Foolish to the last. You could never escape me.¡¯

    The demon bent down and flipped Mickie onto his back. Limbs flopped like wet noodles, yet he could feel none of the rough treatment.

    ¡®Venom of the Horned Invirae. You will be little more than a corpse until receiving the antidote. This would have been easier if you came quietly, slave.¡¯

    ¡®Shit kid, this don¡¯t look good.¡¯

    Miz-Mag squeaky voice barely penetrated the fog that had rolled over his mind. Mickie attempted to focus on his companion but found his eyes traitorously unresponsive. The shadowy demon spoke from just above him, softly as if to someone else.

    ¡®I have the human from ninth. Requesting a collection.¡¯

    A brief pause followed, in which the poisoned mortal tried in vain to shift his unresponsive limbs, yet he remained a prisoner within his own skin.

    ¡®Transmitting location now. Target will be on rooftop.¡¯

    ¡®Come on kid, you got to move, got to fight it.¡¯

    Mickie could not even look at Miz-Mag to convey he was trying. In the distance came the sound of overlapping footsteps, growing louder. A buzzing voice soon reached them over the increasing clamour.

    ¡®This way fools. The Mother will string us by our toes if we don¡¯t catch¡­¡¯

    The shouting came to an abrupt halt, the owner of the voice apparently coming upon the immobile mortal and shadow clad fiend.

    ¡®Well call me a bloodhound¡¯s flea. You actually pulled through. Not half bad for the spawn of a traitor.¡¯

    He could hear the approach of the insect, until his captor stopped it with a sharp warning.

    ¡®Another step bug, and I will peel your back from your body.¡¯

    For all its bravado, the new arrival appeared to take that as an honest threat.

    ¡®What are you on about? We had a deal. You bring the slave to us.¡¯

    ¡®I did bring it to you. Placed it into the centre of your ambush. It is no fault of mine that you failed to detain it.¡¯

    ¡®You traitorous witch. You would twist a deal made against the hive? Within our own warren no less?¡¯

    The insect was so angry it disregarded the other his captor¡¯s warning. Mickie heard the heavy click of claws on stone followed by a heavy thud. Then the screaming started. Unable to move or even see what was happening, Mickie could only listen as the bloody eyed shadow made good on its threat. Minutes of agonised wails interspersed with pleas for aid were all he could make out. Eventually the pained cries faded to soft sobs and the cold voice of his poisoner rang through the alley.

    ¡®Our deal was made and completed. I expect the remainder of my payment for services rendered before the next cycle. Any who would contest this should do so now.¡¯

    Mickie could almost picture the alley as the silence dragged, a mob of insectile demons unwilling to suffer their brethren¡¯s fate.

    ¡®Good. As there is currently no contract in place for this slave¡¯s capture, I will be claiming it. You may extract the payment for hunting within the warren from our prior deal.¡¯

    He desperately tried to move, to escape before he was dragged into whatever hole his shadowy captor had in store. It was like the Mechanist all over again. Mickie pushed against the lethargy in his limbs to no avail. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, the alley suddenly came into focus, his eyesight clearing in mere moments. Great, now he would be able to see his fate coming alongside hearing what was in store. His vision returned just in time to see a mob of insectile demons retreating from a dark form. The demon stood over a twitching mass of ichor and limbs, positioned beside a neat stack of chitinous plates.

    ¡®You think this will be the end of it, traitor spawn? You think the mother will let this slide? When next you meet the hive, be prepared to greet the abyss.¡¯

    Fury soaked the parting words of the insects. Mickie knew it was not a baseless threat either. He knew crime, and these bugs were a syndicate of the bloodiest kind. They did not care for the loophole his captor had used to swing the deal. All they cared about was that an outsider had deprived them of their prey, then reduced one of their own to a humiliated wreck. Not that any of this mattered to him, if Mickie could not get moving, he would soon be worse off than the demon twitching on the floor.

    Once the final bug had left, the red eyed shadow turned about and approached his limp form. Unwilling to hint at his returned sight, Mickie unfocused his eyes to mimic their prior state. In his periphery the mortal could make out the demon winding something about his wrist. It disappeared from view, and soon he was being hauled into the air by a useless arm.

    ¡®I really don¡¯t like were this is going kid. If you¡¯re gonna do something, then do it now.¡¯

    Mickie could not even feel his own body being yanked into the sky, let along move it in resistance. The street receded until he was pulled onto a roof of dusty concrete. The shadowy demon then pulled his hands behind his back to bind them. Even though the action was out of sight, Mickie was surprised to find he could feel the slick binds wrapping about his skin. The fiend paused above him, considering.

    ¡®Oh, by the nine, kid, your gloves.¡¯

    The sensation of his gloves being removed was too faint to make out, yet Mickie certainly heard the sharp inhalation of breath. His brand had been seen.

    ¡®I suspected a pact of some kind. But this.¡¯

    Blurred feet came to stand before his face.

    ¡®He will be most interested in you.¡¯

    <hr>

    The remainder of the time on the roof was spent in silence, Mickie desperately trying to regain control of his body. By the time something changed, he was able to twitch his fingers ever so slightly. A hissing whir reached them from above, and his fretful partner¡¯s eyes grew wide at the sight of it.

    ¡®By the blood, it¡¯s some kind of flying machine. Like the one we saw earlier, but huge.¡¯

    Whatever was approaching, it marked the end of his chances to slip away. Mickie wanted to shout in frustration but all he could manage was an impotent gurgle, lost in the roar of the approaching vehicle. Wind whipped about his face, hard enough that he felt it through numb skin. Something was clamped tightly about his chest, and before he could discern what, Mickie was lifted off the roof. Miz-Mag appeared to have realised what was going to happen, and managed to grab hold of his jacket collar.

    The flying device lifted them up and into the dark skies above the city, and a bloody eyed shadow watched him go. Even if Mickie could move, all escape would grant him now was a rapid fall and deadly landing. Helplessness began to swallow him, even as the city skape came into focus below. The confusing sprawl was spaced out in a series of oversized steps, a circular funnel that ended in the mess of twisted tower he had so recently navigated. The only visible way between the levels was the sloped road he had observed upon arrival. It was one of four, equally spaced about the circular metropolis. They rose through ten staggered levels, before terminating at distant towers. The four paths to the seventh circle that the Conductor had mentioned. It hurt the mortal to see them, at the end of a straight road that was clear, excepting some minor traffic. If only he could have entered the circle unseen.

    As Mickie was carried ever upwards his attention left the sprawling metropolis to focus upon his eventual destination. It was not difficult to deduce where the flying device was headed. Only one location required such height to reach. The top of the central spire. In confirmation of this they flew past a massive chain of dark steel. Monstrous links joined to form an impossibly long connector between a distant point in the city and the precarious bowl above. The lines in the sky he had seen were indeed supports for the massive structure. As they neared the top of the spire, more connected chains came into view, some running from the building to the distant ceiling.

    Approaching a hole in the side of the spire¡¯s tip, Mickie could finally appreciate just how large the structure was. The curved cup of metal was easily broader than a pair of stadiums set side by side. They were well underneath the widest point when the flyer finally pulled into a large chamber that could only describe as a hangar. Smooth floors were empty but for a few strange vehicles. A pipe laden cross between a drone and a helicopter, they gave Mickie a good idea what his current ride looked like. The flyer came to a hovering standstill beside one of its ilk. Rather than land immediately it kept him dangling a couple of meters from the ground. The reason for this becoming apparent when a massive demon stomped over to their position. It was a giant with stone for flesh and a face that sent shivers down Mickie¡¯s numbed spine. Instead of the usual accompaniment of ears, nose and mouth, this monster had a head packed with eyes. They darted about in every direction as the demon unlatched him from the flying device. Still bound and immobilised by poison, the branded man could do nothing to resist. As the fiend dragged him along the chamber floor however, Mickie balled his hand into a fist. Just a little bit longer.

    ¡®Let¡¯s see that one, Funk.¡¯

    The rocky giant came to a stop beside an official looking imp holding some form of electronic pad. Mickie immediately relaxed his muscles and ensured he was staring blankly into space. A beep sounded as the new demon waved the pad against Mickies wrist restraints.

    ¡®Alright. Delivery for the big man from the traitor spawn. Looks like a pact holder, but no details are listed.¡¯

    A claw hand shifted the bindings to get a look at the brand.

    ¡®Mark looks familiar, not sure from were though. Other than that, we got a dose of Horned Invirae venom, rough stuff that. Slave looks well enough though, so probably won¡¯t be lethal.¡¯

    A moment of silence followed in which the imp tapped away on its pad.

    ¡®Recorded summoning capabilities. A gun, huh that¡¯s pretty unusual. It¡¯ll need a summoner cell then, hand restriction at the least I¡¯d say.¡¯

    More typing followed before a hand lightly slapped Mickie¡¯s cheek.

    ¡®Heard there was a lot of trouble to get this one. It doesn¡¯t look like all that much though. Ah well, cleared for arena confinement Funk. Block C, cell seven.¡¯

    With that the imp turned away and the new arrival was dragged off by the monstrous demon. Miz-Mag clambered from a pocket to stand right before his face.

    ¡®We¡¯re deep in it now kiddo. You better hope they aren¡¯t as curious as the Mechanist about what your inside look like.¡¯

    Mickie had to agree. Time was running out to make a move, he was sure that a prison designed for individuals with capabilities like his would not be easy to escape. He worked his tongue in his mouth, trying to gauge if he was capable of speech yet. Judging he would be able to get a point across Mickie slurred a word to his companion.

    ¡®Bindings.¡¯

    The sound of the giant fiend¡¯s movement drowned his mumbled request before it could reach any further than Miz-Mags ears. His diminutive partner gave him an inquisitive look, so Mickie rolled his eyes upwards, towards his bound hands.

    ¡®You want me to free your hands?¡¯

    Mickie gave a slight nod.

    ¡®Alright kid, I can give it a try. You better be ready to fight the big guy.¡¯

    In short order the tiny fiend had clambered over Mickie¡¯s head and was working to loosen the knotted restraints. All the while the rocky giant dragged the duo ever deeper into the spire¡¯s peak. The paths were narrow and gloomy, the exact kind Mickie would expect to see in a prison. As such it came as a surprise when their passage led into an open hall. It was high ceiling space lined with statues of white marble. The figures appeared to be warriors one and all, dressed in actual armour and holding real weapons in pearly hands. Mickie¡¯s brief observation was cut short however by a squeak of victory.

    ¡®Got it! You better pull your weight kid.¡¯

    The bindings locking his hands together abruptly fell apart, dropping Mickie to the floor. Prepared as he was, the branded man was still sluggish from the poison in his veins. Instead of attempting to roll away, he summoned his gun and tilted his head back to find the rocky demon looking at a loose mess of rope in its hands. A number of eyes shifted to the mortal and his gun, but Mickie was already squeezing the trigger. The blast took the creature in the chest, and it reeled backwards with a clamours few steps.

    Mickie dismissed his gun before rolling onto his stomach. He felt drunk under the effects of the toxins, his limbs weak and clumsy. Making it to hands and knees the woozy man was attempting to stand when his demonic companion cried a warning.

    ¡®It ain¡¯t dead. Watch yourself!¡¯

    Sure enough, the craggy fiend had somehow survived the blast from his gun and was moving towards him on unsteady legs. A good portion of its upper body was gone, the remains crumbling further even as it approached. Alarmed, Mickie made the mistake of summoning his weapon from his precarious position on the floor. While the gun had reloaded, raising his hand unbalanced the inebriated mortal and he toppled while firing. The resulting blast took the giant in the leg instead of the head, destroying the thick limb but not killing its owner. When the creature hit the ground, it wasted no time before beginning to crawl after him.

    What followed was a race of snails as he and the wounded demon bumbled about the grand chamber. However, Mickie¡¯s condition was only improving with time, while his rocky pursuer appeared to be crumbling further by the moment. After clearing enough distance, the branded man rolled onto his side and fire a blast straight into the head of the giant. The demon finally fell still, leaving him and Miz-Mag alone but for the rows of statues. It took longer than Mickie would have liked to stand, he knew their recent fight would not have gone unnoticed and reinforcements might already be on their way.

    The hall had numerous tunnels leading out, with both ends capped by impressive doors. One set was of banded wood, while the other was a barred monstrosity of black steel. Neither looked overly enticing as far as options went. It would have to be one of the tunnels then. At that moment the unbarred wooden door at the end of the hall burst open. The force of it was such that Mickie almost tripped on his wobbly legs.

    The wise response to the sudden change would have been to simply run. However, the shock of the thunderous entrance stopped the demon and mortal in their tracks. The duo looked to the opening as the doors continued to ring from the impact. Walking casually through the threshold was a single figure, a fiend if ever Mickie had seen one. Unlike the often androgenous or indistinguishable demons he had encountered, this being was most certainly male in feature. A dark goatee framed a narrow face of dull red skin, contrasting with eyes that glinted a mischievous emerald. The creature wore a black three-piece suit that reflected the light of the hall. Taloned feet clicked against the floor as it walked, and a wicked grin displayed razor teeth.

    ¡®Oh, dear me. Funk was truly one of my better employees. Did you have to be so¡­ final with it.¡¯

    The demon came to a stop as Mickie raised his weapon, and a clawed hand stroked the goatee thoughtfully.

    ¡®You must be the new arrival from ninth. I was so eager to meet you that I rushed over upon hearing you had touched down.¡¯

    It looked him up and down.

    ¡®Though I did hear you were dosed up with Invirae. Must be some deal that you made if you can shake of that stuff.¡¯

    There was a knowing twist to the tone that made Mickie¡¯s spine crawl. He had a bad feeling about the demon before him, it gave off a presence that felt almost familiar. Akin to one he had felt out on the ice of the white wastes.

    ¡®What are you?¡¯

    The demon gave a dark chuckle.

    ¡®What? Rather rude wouldn¡¯t you say. Should the question not be whom?¡¯

    It was with the smile of a shark that the old lord of hell answered.

    ¡®I¡¯m certain you must have heard of me. The name''s Belphegor, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡¯

 13 â€“ The Lazy Lord

    Mickie did not hesitate. The gun cracked as he fired right at Belphegor, and then he was running for the open double doors. He hardly made it more than a few steps before a vice of iron latched onto him, stopping him dead. A clawed hand had grasped hold of Mickie¡¯s forearm, and no matter how he tugged it did not budge in the slightest. Emerald eyes glinted through the clearing smoke of the gunshot.

    ¡®Come now, there¡¯s no need for such hostilities.¡¯

    The arm whipped to one side and tossed Mickie like an oversized stick into one of the walls. He slammed against the hard surface with such force it left a divot. Bones broke and the mortal¡¯s vision darkened briefly before he gasped back to awareness. Miz-Mag had been on his shoulder, yet now his partner was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully the little demon had vanished into its usual resting place before suffering an injury. As he attempted to rise Belphegor approached, adjusting the jacket of his suit and smiling like a shark. Some painful looking burns ran along the demon¡¯s jaw and down its neck, the only sign of Mickie¡¯s attack.

    ¡®Truly an interesting weapon. Unfortunately, I am made from sturdier stuff than your average imp.¡¯

    The wounded mortal managed to stagger upright and attempted to stumble away. From behind there was a deep chuckle. Something connected with the side of Mickie¡¯s knee so hard his leg folded the wrong direction. He cried out and collapsed, hardly able to turn onto his back before Belphegor was upon him. The old fiend placed a taloned foot upon the branded man¡¯s chest and compacted him with the weight of a mountain.

    ¡®A derivative of the Soul Lord¡¯s mark. I do wonder what that upstart had planned for you, I¡¯ve almost come to miss its little schemes.¡¯

    Hooked claws pressed into his Mickie¡¯s shirt, slicing through fabric and gouging his flesh. He could not even draw enough breath to moan at the pain of it.

    ¡®At first, I simply wanted to know what had crawled out of the Palace. But now. Well, you seem harmless enough and I¡¯ve found its usually best to unravel that soul sorcerer¡¯s before making any rash moves.¡¯

    With screaming lungs Mickie tried to push aside the crushing limb. Black spots were dancing in the corner of his eyes, turning from butterflies to twisting snakes.

    ¡®So, I think I¡¯ll have you do some work for me. Make up for killing dear old Funk. How about it?¡¯

    It was hard for the mortal to focus, he attempted to parse what the demon had said but his mind felt foggy.

    ¡®Nothing? Well, no news is good news.¡¯

    Something changed within Belphegor at that, the invisible force the old fiend exerted began to press upon the world. Even through his fading consciousness Mickie felt it, like a hand had grasped his frantic heart and slowed its beating. Then the demon spoke, and Hell itself went still at the sound.

    ¡®Sleep.¡¯

    And he fell into darkness.

    <hr>

    Consciousness returned with the force of a thunderclap and Mickie sucked in a ragged breath before coughing up a wad of bile and blood. He attempted to rise but found anything more than a crouch impossible. Manacles glowing with bloody runes encircled each wrist, chained to the floor by heavy metal loops. The bindings were set into opposite sides of an unadorned cell, keeping his arms pulled apart. He faced a blank wall of dull metal, though when Mickie craned his neck, he could see a series of bars obscuring a dim hallway. Emerald eyes glinted at him through the barrier of metal, a wicked grin forming upon noticing his attention.

    ¡®Welcome back to the land of the dead, my dear enigma. I have been eagerly awaiting your return.¡¯

    Belphegor¡¯s voice was the same smooth baritone as when it had been crushing him to a pulp.

    ¡®It is a curious bargain you have made. Partial invisibility, impressive recovery, and improved strength on top of that nasty weapon. Rare for one of my kind to give so much of itself.¡¯

    The demon sounded inquisitive but did not outright ask for details. Mickie cast about for Miz-Mag, but it appeared his companion was still missing, off in its strange limbo. Hopefully the little fiend would return soon, because there was no way Mickie was escaping this place without help. Belphegor had fallen silent, seemingly waiting for a response. With a body still throbbing from his last meeting, Mickie was not willing to test the old demon again.

    ¡®What do you want?¡¯

    His voice was dry, and his diaphragm ached from the effort of shaping the short question.

    ¡®Many things, dear boy, many things.¡¯

    The door to his cage clicked, and Mickie craned his neck in an attempt to catch sight of his approaching captor.

    ¡®However, I expect we will have more than enough time to chat in the future. I would love to hear the tale of how you slipped by Rainzell.¡¯

    The gentle tapping of claws on metal came to a stop right behind him. Mickie attempted to give the demon a defiant look, but a clawed hand of red flesh clamped upon the top of his head, forcing him to look forward.

    ¡®I¡¯m sure you will speak in time, my dear enigma. I will learn who you are, and why you carry that mark. But first you need to understand that you are mine, and that you are not indispensable to me.¡¯

    With a dark chuckle Belphegor released his head and moved to the exit.

    ¡®Prepare yourself. You will need to give a better showing than you did against me if you want to survive.¡¯

    The cell door clicked shut and the ancient demon disappeared down the corridor. Mickie waited until the sound of its steps had long faded before testing the limits of his prison. He pulled at the chains, finding to be as durable as the dark iron implied. Next, he attempted to summon his gun and found the weapon came to him without issue. Strange, Mickie had been wary of the runes glowing upon his bonds, but they appeared not to inhibit his powers. They chains were restrictive, though not so much that he could not turn the weapon upon them. Wedging the barrel into the metal links, the branded man paused to contemplate his next move. A fiend as nasty as Belphegor could not have overlooked this possibility. They had mentioned these cages were designed to contain summoners. Yet, what else could Mickie do? Until Miz-Mag came back his options were to limited to the extreme.

    In the end he decided it was better to at least cross the option off the list and squeezed the trigger. The flash of gunfire was accompanied by an equally bright glow from the runes. Mickie¡¯s ears rang as his arm was yanked painfully by the chain. As the steam and smoke cleared, he found an almost unblemished chain, glowing with intense red light. The twisted script upon the metal had not dimmed as the echoes of the blast faded. In fact, it was almost as if the light was getting brighter.

    Something tickled him, something inside his chest that wanted to get out. Mickie gave a couple of coughs, but the feeling only got worse, sliding like rough stone into his gut. Next his back itched with a spine deep ache, not the kind that you could remove with a scratch. The mortal swallowed, feeling short of breath. The inconvenient aches and pains intensified, moulding, and merging into a nebulous glob that filled his body. It began to burn worse than any fire could, burn with a pain that only his brand had ever produced. Mickie writhed on the floor, twitching yet unable to even cry out. His vision became consumed by the red glow of his chains, bright enough now that his entire cell was coloured a bloody red. Unable to think, unable to even draw breath. It felt like he was going to die, like the abyss below had crept up from nowhere and was wrapping arms of crimson about his neck.

    Then the pain began to recede. Like the tide it withdrew as the light of the runes faded, returning the Mickie¡¯s faculties to him with agonizing slowness. For a time, all the human could do was lay gasping on the hard floor of his prison. That had not been a pleasant experience.

    ¡®Note.¡¯

    He coughed wetly.

    ¡®Note to self. Don¡¯t shoot the chains.¡¯

    Stuck waiting for his companion and with nothing but a blank wall to occupy him, Mickie¡¯s thoughts turned inward. It sounded as if Belphegor did not actually know what had occurred within the palace. Strange that there had been no word between the eighth and ninth circle at all during the Kindle Kin¡¯s rebellion. If the Palace Lord had sent for reinforcements the outcome of the battle might have shifted in the oversized centipede¡¯s favour. Yet the creepy old demon had not even bothered to send a note upwards. There was something he was missing, most likely tensions between the castle and the city.

    As time dragged on within the cage, the tension Mickie felt began coalescing into jittery nervousness. He had never been good at sitting still, preferring action to patience. Mickie had always found that with enough energy and momentum he could get just about anything done. Then again, it was not the patient who died young. Sometimes momentum hurled you right into a brick wall, and you were moving too fast to stop even if you saw it coming. The mortal emptied himself of his restlessness with a few steadying breaths. He needed to keep his wits about him in this viper¡¯s nest, Belphegor could return at any time.

    The sudden sound of a motor whirring to life drew Mickie from his meditation. With a lurch the floor to which he was chained lurched and began to rise. Turning about he found it was not just the floor that was shifting, his entire cell was. The dim light from the hallway outside gradually thinned as his prison lifted into the air. Soon enough it was gone entirely, plunging Mickie into darkness but for the bloody glow of his chains. After a time rising the cage shuddered and began to slide forwards. He cursed loudly, Miz-Mag was too slow in returning. Whatever fate awaited Mickie, he would be facing it alone.

    As the prison made yet another shaky shift in direction, Mickie began to hear something new over the clamour on a motor. A distant roar, continuous like the cascade of the waterfall. The sound grew as his cage rose, eventually consuming even the sound of his ascent. It was the overlapping cries of a crowd, the noise as fluid and chaotic as troubled water. Light began to filter into his prison, and as it did the roar reached all new levels of fervour.

    ¡®And nor for a truly special bout. My dearest damned and damaged, do we have something special for you.¡¯

    A digitally enhanced voice boomed so loudly it shook the rising cage. The crowd cheered in response, the general clamour masking a chant, something about a bloody beast. His chance to discern anything further was cut short as light poured through the bars of the cage. With a sudden thunk the metal barrier fell away, and Mickie craned his neck to make out what awaited beyond.

    Then, to his surprise, the manacles binding his wrists popped open and dropped to the floor. Mickie rubbed his tender skin and frowned at the glowing metal. For some reason, his newfound freedom did not provoke anything more than wary caution. He stood slowly, turning towards the opening of the prison and the roar of the crowd.

    ¡®On one side, a killer of the roundest order, an angry oval we all know and love, the Bloody Bean!¡¯

    The crown screamed their approval as Mickie neared his cage¡¯s opening. His eyes adjusted slowly to the bright exterior, revealing an expanse of white sand bordered by a tall wall of steel.

    ¡®Facing the crimson kidney, we have a new arrival to the Cauldron, and what a specimen he is. One century ago, a being of outstanding power and obscene violence betrayed our dearest Sovereign. For years now, we though the soul lord dead and gone. Now however, its mark has returned, on the skin of a mortal no less. So, without further ado, I present, the Marked One!¡¯

    With an abrupt lurch the open cell tilted forward, and Mickie was helpless to prevent himself from tumbling out of the opening. He rolled on to the sand, accompanied by hesitant cheers. It appeared the crowd were unsure what to make of him. Mickie for his part could care less about the opinions of the audience and quickly scrambled to his feet. He had been deposited upon a huge sandy field, hemmed in by a large wall. Atop the wall were rows upon rows of demons. Stadium seating stacked far into the black sky, absolutely packed with hell spawn of all varieties. Hanging above the viewers were what Mickie supposed had to massive screens, though all he could see from the field was a sheet of dark material.

    ¡®Furthermore, my attentive attendees, this will not be a typical fight. I have received word from both backers that we have a duel to the death on our hands.¡¯

    The cautious enthusiasm of the crowd roared back to life at that proclamation. In the arena however, the traped mortal hardly took any notice. Instead, his attention was drawn to the empty cage as it sunk into the floor, stopping when the metal roof was flush with the sands.

    ¡®Place your bets real quick, because we will be under way in 10, 9¡­¡¯

    There was something else in the arena with Mickie, directly across from him. A round, lumpy object that could easily have been a misshapen boulder, if not for the crowd¡¯s rising chant.

    ¡®BLOODY BEAN, BLOODY BEAN¡¯

    As the countdown neared completion, the chorus gained momentum, and Mickie began to look at the strange object with a rising apprehension. He had long since picked this to be some form of gladiatorial arena, housed at the top of the spire. Yet the question remained of what he would have to face.

    ¡®2, 1. In the name of the rising Mizaraphel, let blood be spilled!¡¯

    A horn sounded over the speakers, like an ancient call for battle. Grains of sand shifted and shook with the force of it, though not nearly as vigorously as the lumpen object across the field. Seams began to appear in the strange boulder as it expanded, unfurling like a horrific flower. A creature akin to a giant sea anemone rose from the sand. Though instead of softly swaying strings of flesh, this monster was formed from a host of human limbs.

    Legs and arms of all variety emerged from a fleshy core to form a dense forest. They held the beast aloft, providing a base of support upon which it could move. Within the twisted libs Mickie caught a glint of bloodshot blue eye. As the monstrosity had garnered Mickies attention, he seemed to have caught its. Legs tensed and arms shoved, moving the hell spawn in a rolling walk towards the branded man.

    ¡®Oh, fuck me.¡¯

    Mickie had faced down humanoid insects, a three head chihuahua and a horde of bloodthirsty machines. Yet the amalgamation of human flesh before him was the most disturbing thing he had encountered yet. It appeared slow at first, the innumerable appendages making movement difficult. Yet as he stood transfixed, the beast closed with increasing momentum, turning faster and faster in a spray of sand.

    Mickie was almost too slow to react when it came upon him, realising at the last moment that its limbs were not the normal size for a human. The arms and legs were another half as long as might be seen in a mortal, and the discrepancy had thrown off his opinion of its size. Running and diving to the side, Mickie did not quite clear the beast as it tumbled past. A searching hand wrapped about his ankle, dragging along through the sand.

    Luckily, the bean¡¯s speed was such that it could not keep hold of him as the body rotated. Mickie was hurled across the arena as the monster continued towards a wall. Even if it got in his nose and mouth, the sand was an effective cushion. As the crowd roared their approval of the monster the branded man stood, having suffered little more than some bruises. The human-anemone was turning in a lose arc, tumbling about to roll in his direction once more. Mickie took a slow breath and emptied himself of the churning disgust and fear. He took in the proximity of his adversary to the wall, the slower speed at which it tumbled, and made a decision.

    Instead of waiting for the monster to roll his way, Mickie ran straight at it. To effectively avoid the bob he needed it to be slow, so it was better to close the distance before it got going. The plan proved effective, and as the monster came upon him, the branded man did not even need to dive away. He darted to the side, summoning his gun and shooting the beast in its lumpy mass of flesh. Blood and limbs sprayed across the sand in gory cascade as the monster rolled to a shuddering stop.

    ¡®Take a look at that blaster. We¡¯ve got a fight on our hands!¡¯

    The Bloody Bean was sluicing blood in a viscous waterfall. The rate at which the lifegiving fluid poured from the central body was alarming, even a creature of its size could not sustain that loss. A sudden writhing shift within the monster resulted in the immediate cessation of blood loss. It had somehow folded in upon itself, becoming marginally smaller and sealing the hole in its body. While the damage might be gone, the signs of the attack were not. As the grotesque bundle of appendage rolled in his direction once more, blood sprayed from gore coated limbs. Mickie cursed as he ran towards the beast. It looked like he would need to whittle down the self-repairing monster.

    As the anemone came upon him, Mickie repeated his strategy of darting to the side at the last moment. Right before he fired into the body however, the monster shifted direction. A forest of arms and legs had halted the bean¡¯s momentum, then straightened out to launch itself after the slippery human. Taken by surprise, Mickie barely managed to dive aside as it rolled past, a leg clipping his shoulder painfully. The crowd roared in approval at their favoured fighter¡¯s display while the battered mortal rolled to his feet.

    If his adversary could adapt to his tactics, then Mickie was going to have to change it up. He ran for the nearby steel wall as the bean circle around to strike again. Legs pumping, he glanced over his shoulder to find the violent bundle of limbs gaining, far faster than his pact enhanced muscles. The clamour of the crowd began to rise as they sensed blood in the water. Then Mickie hit the arena¡¯s barrier and dropped flat against the ground. It was not a moment too soon either, as the monster slammed against the steel with such force that the ground rumbled.

    Mickie however, was not crushed by the impact. By huddling low, the round large anemone of flesh had failed to catch him under its mass. That did not mean the branded mortal was in the clear though. Even as he raised his gun the creature began to shudder and shift, its lumpen core distorting and pushing grasping hands towards its cowering prey. A blast of golden light met the innumerable limbs, punching a hole in the greedy forest. Mickie had hoped that the monster might recoil after taking the hit, but it only pushed harder to take hold of him.

    Blood from the wound washed over him in a crimson wave, blinding him in the deluge. As a hand caught hold of his jacket, some of the fluid got into his mouth. It tasted of rotten copper, and he gagged at the viscous sensation of it. The bean began to reel him in, more hands grabbing hold and dragging Mickie into an inescapable net of flesh. His weapon finished reloading with a squelching thunk, and the beast received another shot, aimed right where his first had been. This time it did the trick, and the soaked human was dropped to the sticky sands as the bean hastily backed away from the wall.

    ¡®Oh my, would you look at that, what a beautiful shade of blood.¡¯

    The crowd was in a frenzy, screaming at the twisted abomination and cursing Mickie with every manner of colourful insult. He found it all difficult to make out with ears clogged by blood, and was too focussed on his enemy to bother clearing them. Having retreated a short distance, the monster shuddered and folded upon itself again, this time becoming visibly smaller. Hopefully that meant Mickie was getting close to killing it for good. The shifting beast seemed to bring about a change in the observing crowd as well. The hysterics settled into a thumping mantra, a call to the wounded abomination.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡®Flatten him. Flatten him. Flatten him.¡¯

    Mickie stayed by the wall as the bean finished its reformation, the centre almost invisible amongst the dense wall of limbs. It was too small now for the same trick to work again, he would have to face the beast head on. When the bean moved, it moved fast. The body tensed low before springing into action, coming at him in a fountain of sand. As the crowd screamed the mortal raised his weapon and fired. It was all he could manage before the monster crashed into him. The combination of the blast and his attempted dodge saved him from the full force of the blow. However, even a glancing collision was enough to send him careening into the barrier.

    Stars blossomed in the abyss above the arena as Mickie lay dazed upon the sand. His left side hurt terribly, a stabbing ache then spun the lights above in a dizzying display. Nearby the Bloody Bean detached itself from the steel wall and rolled in his direction. Desperately, the woozy mortal righted himself, coughing up a large mouthful of blood. It was getting hard to breath, his chest felt full, yet he yearned for air. Mickie pointed his gun at the approaching monster, but it was still spewing steam, not yet reloaded.

    It appeared the Bloody Bean was forgoing its usually healing ritually, accepting the loss of blood to strike down its prey. Unable to shoot, Mickie attempted to run away. The monster was faster than him however, and he had hardly made it more than a few steps before hands began to reach and grasp at his back. He spun to face the creature, dismissing his weapon to fend it off with both arms. But it was a losing battle. The beast had too many limbs and too much reach.

    Even as blood coated the sand from a nasty gash, the beast caught hold of an arm and dragged Mickie in. Desperately, he tried to pull free, but his laboured breaths were giving way to failing muscles. The monster grabbed his shoulder, his calf, his hair. It dragged him into its embrace and towards a bloodshot eye, wide with rabid hunger. Skin parted like tearing fabric, revealing a maw that was more a bloody hole than true mouth.

    ¡®No, no, no.¡¯

    One of his hands was fed into the opening, and the pain of it was staggering. He felting his skin begin to boil, his flesh meting as if it were wax. The leather of is jacket do not hold that acid inside at bay for long, dissolving to reveal the flesh beneath. Mickie screamed in fear and agony but was cut off by a fountain of vomited blood. His chest was suddenly lighter again, and the fading human took in a breath of blessed air. Clarity hit Mickie like a sizzling thunderclap, and he called forth his gun. It formed within his right hand, inside the body of the monster. He blew a chunk of flesh from the Bloody Bean, but his adversary was so fixated on its consumption it seemed not to care.

    More of Mickie was pulled into the agonizing inferno of the creature¡¯s mouth, even as he slowly disassembled it from within. At some point, he found that his right hand could no longer move enough to pull the trigger of his gun. So, in panicked desperation Mickie called it to his left and the weapon came to his unbranded hand. Could he always do that? Had he even tried before? It was getting difficult to think through the agony. All he could do was shoot, wait, then shoot again. How long had it been since the monster dragged him in? Half a minute? Ten years?

    When the beast finally died, it did so with abruptly. One second the endless arms and legs were pulling him ever tighter, and the next they were pulling him to the ground with the dead monster. Mickie lay still for a moment, stunned, before yanking his arm from the corpse. It came free with a wet slop and the exhausted human stumbled away from his fallen opponent. He glanced at his arm to assess the damage and whimpered in horrified disgust. His jacket was gone just beyond the shoulder, the protective layer dissolved away. The white of bone shone between lean strips of red flesh. Tendons were pulled taught in the open air, all the meat dissolved from around them.

    There was almost no arm left, and yet, on the back of his hand, Mickie made out a ridged bumpy mark discolouring the remaining meat. He wanted to scream, to cry, to beg the roaring crowd for help. Instead, he tried to empty it all out, to put up the barriers within himself and think with a clear mind. There was something wrong with his chest, breathing was getting difficult again and as Mickie felt at his ribs it did not take long to find out why. Bone pressed hard against his skin, angling directly inwards towards a lung.

    As the announcer exclaimed about something and the crowd screamed in rage or adulation, Mickie pulled his rib from his punctured lung. He felt the bone slide from his organ, and the sudden influx of fluid that followed. All he could do was cough and spit, desperately hoping that the blood would stop flowing before he drowned in it.

    ¡®The Bloody Bean has fallen! Our slothful sinner sure has himself a monster with in this one. Could it be the second coming of the Soul Lord?¡¯

    It was all Mickie could do to just hold everything at bay. Pain racked at his psyche, his body was a bloody ruin, all he could taste was blood and all he could hear was the roar beyond the pit. It weighed upon him like the world itself, and all Mickie could do was bear it. Simply wait until the masses lost interest in the spectacle of his ruined figure.

    ¡®I think our little friend here is about to fall over, the old bean didn¡¯t die without a fight. Let¡¯s hope big Bel has something to pull him back together.¡¯

    A nearby patch of sand shook with a deep rumble before lifting into the air. An open cage rose into the arena, a familiar pair of chains bound to the floor within. Mickie did not expect to be relieved by the sight of his prison, yet he stumbled eagerly towards the opening. It was getting difficult to hold himself together, and the dim room would provide an escape from the innumerable eyes upon him. Moments after his feet met the cool floor, the cell rumbled to life and began to sink into the ground. Taking his exit as its cue to move on, the announcer¡¯s voice followed Mickie in his descent.

    ¡®Next is the final match. It¡¯s gonna be big, its gonna be bloody, and its gonna be cold as stone and deadly as a snake.¡¯

    <hr>

    The trip back through the underbelly of the Colosseum was spent alternating between coughing out blood and gasping for air. More concerning than the lack of air however, was the lack of feeling from his melted arm. For a time, the limb had spiked with agony, the remnants of flesh screaming their loss to him. Now though, he felt absolutely nothing from useless mass of meat and bone. Mickie could only hope that his healing was up to the task of restoring the appendage.

    Eventually the cell clunked back into its place deep within the spire¡¯s peak. Mickie hardly noticed, focussed as he was on the recovery of his battered body. Just as he began to feel as if he could breath again, a delighted laugh rang through the dark.

    ¡®Oh, dear me. What a fight.¡¯

    Emerald eyes glinted from beyond the bars of his cage, Belphegor beaming at him with a predator¡¯s grin.

    ¡®To have beaten the Bean in a death match. They¡¯ll be talking about this one for years.¡¯

    The door to his cell clicked open and the ancient demon strolled in without a care in the world. Following close behind was a human woman, dressed in a suit like the fiend¡¯s own.

    ¡®I¡¯m certain you will be of the utmost use to me, dear enigma.¡¯

    The woman following Belphegor was older than many of the other mortals he had met in Hell. Grey hair was pulled into a bun above a sharp face that Mickie felt he had seen before. She met his gaze, and for a moment, her eyes widened in surprise. Then Belphegor was squatting in front of Mickie, cutting the woman off from view. When his captor next spoke, its words were soft, almost gentle.

    ¡®I wanted this first match to serve as a lesson for you. While you might presume to be of some value to me, do not think you are indispensable. I will find out what has occurred within the ninth, with or without your input.¡¯

    The old demon lord gave a happy grin.

    ¡®So, that being said, do you have anything you might like to say to me, dearest enigma? Perhaps your name?¡¯

    Mickie remained quiet, glaring into the emerald eyes with as much loathing as he could muster. The mortal was keenly aware of his unchained arms, it would be the work of moments to call his gun and shoot the smug fiend. Yet Mickie was also aware of his own condition, still desperately trying to keep hold of consciousness through the pain. Belphegor gave him a condescending laugh and straightened back out.

    ¡®I expected as much.¡¯

    As his tormentor turned, the older woman came back into view. She was staring at Mickie with an intensity that he found disconcerting. That aged face seemed so familiar, yet he could not put his finger on where he had seen her before.

    ¡®Ah, how rude of me. Introductions are in order.¡¯

    Belphegor had taken note of the two mortal¡¯s staring contest. The demon gave another chuckle and clapped his hands.

    ¡®This, dear enigma, is my very own Cleopatra. A queen fallen from grace. I took her under my wing after she died, just as I have done with you.¡¯

    The woman bowed her head towards Belphegor in a show of respect. Mickie narrowed his eyes at the display. Just who was this person, and why did he feel like they knew one another?

    ¡®My lady, this is the enigma of whom I am sure you have heard so much about. The only soul to leave the palace in weeks, and carrying the most sinister of marks to boot.¡¯

    When next he looked, the other mortal had her attention focussed solely on Belphegor.

    ¡®Now that we are all caught up, it¡¯s time we took a look at that arm. I¡¯m honestly surprised there¡¯s anything let after the Bean got hold of it.¡¯

    The silence of the two humans seemed to faze the old demon very little.

    ¡®I find your regeneration to be the more impressive of your many traits. It reminds me of another ability I have seen before, enough so that I think a test is in order. Grab the urn would you.¡¯

    Directing the final few words of his statement towards the woman, Belphegor was swiftly obeyed. Soon a large clay jar of sorts was brought into the room and set down near Mickie. He looked at it with some trepidation, the thing was lined with the now familiar glowing runes.

    ¡®Fear not, dear enigma. You have done me a service today, and I am simply repaying the favour.¡¯

    The old hell lord reached out a clawed hand and rested it atop the urn. There was a brief flare of red light before the runes went out and the lid of the container was removed. Immediately the scent of copper and brimstone filled the air, a heady mix of blood and fire. It made Mickie¡¯s stomach churn with nausea and, for a reason he could not explain, made his mouth water. Whatever was in that container called to him, sang like an oasis in the desert, promising to quench a thirst he should not have. With an effort of will, the branded man tore his eyes from the urn and pushed the desire for its contents away. Belphegor however, appeared to have been waiting for his reaction, and seemed pleased with Mickie¡¯s response.

    ¡®Oh, ho, ho. It looks like I was right. Handle the bandaging would you, my dear.¡¯

    With the smell tickling the back off Mickie brain, it took him a moment to notice his fellow human pulling up her sleeves. She dipped her arms into the pot¡¯s pungent contents without hesitation, drawing forth sodden strips of fabric.

    ¡®I can see your hunger boy, and I understand it. That there is the blood of a beast old as time itself, the purest essence of both life and hell.¡¯

    The older slave approached Mickies damaged arm, hands dripping with as much blood as the cloth she held. Hunger hit him like a tsunami, cracking his calm centre and urging him to take, to consume. Mickie held it at bay, shaking like a leaf in a cyclone. With dread he watched as the first of the bandages were laid across his wasted arm. When they contacted his skin though, the growing pangs in his gut abruptly ceased. Sensation returned to the limb in a sudden and terrible itch, as if something were crawling in his skin. The woman finished applying the bandages and stepped away, her eyes still locked on Mickie¡¯s shaking form.

    ¡®Look at that, just as I thought.¡¯

    Beneath the bloody cloth, Mickie¡¯s arm was regrowing at a visible rate. Fabric shifted and stretched as muscles reknit and skin reformed. The sensation was unlike anything he had experienced before, relief mixed with a mind twisting need to scratch at the healing flesh. It squeezed and slipped into his hollow insides, and without realising it, Mickie¡¯s free hand drifted towards his arm. There was a blur of motion and the snapping of steel against steel before the mortal found himself chained once more.

    ¡®We can¡¯t have you disrupting the process. I never got to have a truly good look at it before.¡¯

    The bindings against the walls of the room had moved of their own accord, restraining Mickie to the floor once more.

    ¡®Seeing as we are helping one another out, will you not give me your name?¡¯

    It spoke to the degree of Mickie¡¯s irritation that he opened his mouth to snap a response at Belphegor. All that came out however was a torrent of spit and blood as he cleared his lungs. The return of easy breathing that followed helped focus him, and Mickie simply gave the old demon a glare in response. Belphegor seemed not to mind, chuckling at the ragged captive.

    ¡®Do not worry, it will give me no power over you, as so many stories seem to indicate. Though it was said that the Soul Lord could do some strange things with a name, I am no suicidal upstart. I simply asked to satisfy my own curiosity.¡¯

    Mickie could feel his hand again as nerves reconnected and tendons strung taught. As the healing drew to a close, he noted that the blood on the bandages appeared to be drying. Already pieces were flaking away and falling to the metal floor.

    ¡®You see, my dear enigma, we have no record of you within the bounds of Hell. This is strange, normally every mortal to arrive is documented before assignment. Further, you were down in the castle, not a place where they would stand for undocumented slaves.¡¯

    As the itching finally stopped within his limb, one of the previously soaked bandages cracked like dry chalk. It fell away to reveal a section of perfectly smooth skin, coloured a deep crimson by the blood remnants. The rest of the coverings soon followed, leaving Mickie with an intact arm once more.

    ¡®Just as I thought. How very strange.¡¯

    Belphegor stokes its beard thoughtfully before abruptly straightening.

    ¡®Well, now you are whole once more, I¡¯d say another fight is on the table.¡¯

    A devilish grin split the old lord¡¯s face.

    ¡®Do remember what I told you though. I will find out what I want to know, sooner or later, so a wise man would make sure to still be of use when I do.¡¯

    With a wave to the older woman, Belphegor turned on it¡¯s heels and headed for the open cell door. The old demon¡¯s human servant did not follow immediately. She paused to give Mickie a look that was difficult to decipher, though he was certain that for the briefest of moments, there was fear in her eyes. Then the cage door clanged shut, leaving Mickie alone in the dark.

    <hr>

    The bloodied mortal¡¯s silent confinement was not destined to remain as such for very long. A whirring from above drew his attention to the ceiling, where a small panel had opened. From the dark recess came a familiar appendage of plastic and steel, capped by a nozzle. Mickie recoiled at the sight of it, straining against his glowing chains. It couldn¡¯t be, not here. He and the Conductor had killed it back in the palace, the old Kindle Kin had confirmed its death. Yet a tentacle so reminiscent of the Mechanist¡¯s own slithered from the ceiling.

    Mickie called forth his gun, desperately attempting to turn it towards the approaching mass of metal and rubber. The tentacle came to a stop a few feet from his face, swaying gently back and forth, as if searching for him. It could not see him. Hardly daring to even breath, Mickie watched the nozzle at the tip of the limb like a hawk. Was it another flamethrower? He recalled the Mechanist had used those in the past. A powerful spray of water abruptly burst forth from openiing, missing the wary mortal completely.

    What followed were a confusing few minutes of the limb blindly spraying water about, occasionally catching Mickie with a burst of frigid water. While the cold of the liquid impacted him little, the force of it was a different matter. Many of his bones, his ribs in particular, were still healing, and the water punched his ragged body continuously. By the end of the uncoordinated shower, the sodden man had concluded that this most certainly was not the Mechanist. The limb dangling from the ceiling certainly looked like one from his old foe. However, the bag of bolts would have done far more than just give him a rough rinse off.

    When the arm retracted into its hole above, Mickie found himself feeling strangely refreshed. Clean of the battle¡¯s detritus, now all he needed was for his clothes to dry. Looking at the ragged remnants of his jacket sleeve, he wondered if there was a potential solution to both issues with his wardrobe. Mickie unsummoned his clothing with a thought, becoming naked on the floor of his cell. Next, he pictured his armour, dry and clean, expecting the garments to come easy this time now he knew what to call forth. Yet his call was met with resistance, as if something was holding back his clothes. Frowning, Mickie willed it to come, pulling the ethereal threads harder and harder. The invisible tug of war came to a sudden end with a rustle of cloth and a foreign kind of fatigue. Mickie was dressed in his jeans and jacket, with the sleeve once more covering his entire arm. It had taken something from him to do that, the expenditure of an energy he did not truly understand.

    With little else to do but wait in silence, Mickie pondered the weary weight that now draped over him. It was internal, he could feel that, yet it was not truly part of his body. The closest thing to it that he could recall was the powers displayed by both Mammon and Belphegor. They had touched upon something within him that Mickie did not understand. Now apparently, so had he. It must have been the damage to his armour. Repairs, it seemed, did not come for free.

    As time wore on the strange feeling receded, until Mickie was completely whole once more. He followed the process, feeling out the bounds of this ethereal cup. If he could figure out how to draw on this force, could he do what the ancient demons could? The thought excited and scared him in equal measure.

    ¡®Hoh boy kid. This is quite the pickle.¡¯

    Mickie cracked his eyes open to find a tiny red demon pondering his chained form. Miz-Mag warily poked one of the runes coating his bonds, unsure if the symbol was dangerous.

    ¡®You could say that.¡¯

    He hesitated briefly before replying, whatever monitoring the cell possessed would catch what he said. It would only be half a conversation though, might even make him look a bit crazy. If he avoided saying anything too compromising Mickie could afford to speak.

    ¡®At least they¡¯re not cutting you open.¡¯

    Miz-Mag glanced about the room, no doubt searching for signs of hidden surveillance.

    ¡®Shame we stumbled into Belphegor like that. What¡¯s he holding you for?¡¯

    Using short sentences, Mickie mumbled out an explanation of the colosseum in which they found themselves. As he spoke, the diminutive demon examined his chains in greater detail, attempting to find a weak point. Mickie finished his explanation just as Miz-Mag was poking at the welded floor joint.

    ¡®Welp, we¡¯ll just have to bust out here then. Can¡¯t be worse than the Mechanist.¡¯

    The chained mortal had to agree. Escaping the raised cauldron would be a challenge, but one they could tackle with a hereto unprovided resource, time. Belphegor wanted to know what Mickie knew and make use of his talents for violence. That meant the old lord would be in no rush to send him to the abyss. It also meant that they could plan a proper escape, using the hidden resource that was his demonic partner. It took some effort, but Mickie managed to relate his thoughts through leading statements and mumbled sentences. The plan was simple, Miz-Mag would head out and scope their prison, mapping a pathway to escape. In the meantime, Mickie would play Belphegor¡¯s game, stalling until they could make a break at freedom.

    ¡®Alright kid. I¡¯m gonna make a move. Try not to die while I¡¯m out saving our asses.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ll do my best.¡¯

    Miz-Mag slipped through the bars of his cage and disappeared into the dim halls, waving to him before ducking out of view.

    <hr>

    Hours passed in silence. The man and demon decided in advance that Miz-Mag would explore until he was forced to rest by their bond. It was idea Mickie agreed with, though the passage of time within his steel cage began to become grating. It wore on the branded mortal¡¯s nerves, grinding irritably against his restless nature. Mickie attempted to focus inward, to touch on the otherworldly force he held within. He could feel it, hanging amorphous and untouchable, pulling him in with yet remaining forever out of reach.

    When the roar of an engine and the turning of gears eventually came, it was almost a relief to Mickie. The cage rumbled to life and slid away from its spot in the hall, heading for his next bout in the arena. Time had long since stopped flowing as it should within the colosseum¡¯s dark underbelly. It felt like days had passed since his last fight, though it could very well have been just a few hours. Miz-Mag was yet to reappear from its first sojourn into the depth of their prison. Not that his companion¡¯s vanishing habit was a good indication of time, the little demon seemed to pop in and out for no reason at all.

    As the cage rumbled towards the sandy battlefield, Mickie attempted to feel out their path. Up for thirteen seconds, ahead for twenty-three, left for fourteen, followed by a pause as the cell rotated. The next rise brought light into his cramped cage after only a brief grind upwards. Clear sand came into focus as his eyes adjusted to the bright battlefield, preceded by the roar of the crowd. Mickie¡¯s chains clattered to the floor as they automatically unfastened, releasing him to his next bout.

    Rather than wait for prison to tilt and dump him out, the mortal walked willingly onto the arena. His arrival was met with a chorus of boos and cheers. The crowd was energetic, though less so than they had been during his last fight.

    ¡®Welcome, one and all, to this evening entertainment. To kick us off we have a newcomer returning to the sands. Belphegor¡¯s pet is back and starved for more. Who are we to deny him?¡¯

    A roar of approval met the familiar voice of the announcer. Mickie did his best to ignore the sea of demons, instead looking for his opponent. His eyes fell upon a shifting pile of sand as it bulged. Another cell was rising into the arena.

    ¡®This mortal has already proven himself capable against a sample of the worst our dastardly pits has to offer. So, for our first bout, we shall see just how much of a demon this man truly is.¡¯

    The crowd appeared to have gathered something from the projected voice, because they went berserk. Shouts and screams echoed of the steel walls, projecting upwards to bounce off the shrouded ceiling above. It was enough to make Mickie nervous. Whatever got these fiends riled up could not be good news for him. Across the arena the cage began to tilt to spill forth his opponent.

    ¡®Shall we see how our new hotshot fares in a death match against his own kind?¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s world tunnelled as they came into the light, grasping at the smooth steel of their cell. Humans. Dressed in rags, gaunt and gangly they tumbled onto the sands, clutching at shoddy weapons of sharpened steel. The screaming of the crowd became warped to his ear, near hysterical as he watched his fellow mortals scramble up on shaky legs.

    Seven of them. Seven humans that were closer to corpses than living beings. He could not understand how there even were in such a state. It should be impossible to starve in a realm where you required no food. The group glanced about in twitching terror at the rows of wailing monsters.

    ¡®Let the battle, begin!¡¯

    A horn reverberated over the crowd, signalling the start of the match. Yet neither Mickie or his emaciated brethren moved straight to violence. The confused mortals had noticed him and appeared to be trying to call out. Their words were lost to the crowd, though he could be near certain of what they were attempting to say. Questions about where they were, of what was happening. Of why the voice seemed to think they were going to fight.

    Rather than grow frustrated by the delay, the audience lapped it up with relish. They cried jeers and taunts, delighting in his hesitation. Mickie knew exactly what this was, and why the crowd was so excited by a seemingly straightforward bout. He was to be an executioner. To be the monster that butchered the weak for the entertainment of Hell¡¯s denizens. The demons were in a frenzy because they believed they were going to see him break. Maybe even see him get cut down, unable to draw a weapon against his own kind.

    It was Belphegor. The ancient fiend had first tried force and was now attempting guilt. Seeing if the slaughter of fellow humans loosened Mickie¡¯s tight lips. A bone handle fell into his grasp as he breathed slow. In, and out. In, and out. Expression fell from the branded man¡¯s face as he put on a dreadfully familiar hollow mask. Belphegor had not been lying when it mentioned having no idea who he was. Everything went quiet within him, emptied until all that remained was the seven mortals, now stumbling towards him on the sand. These demons wanted to see him break, to watch the process as an evening¡¯s entertainment. But Mickie had broken long ago, and he would show them now, what had been pieced together from the jagged remains.

 14 â€“ Stone Eye

    Mickie¡¯s world was an ongoing slog of endless darkness and chains. A dreary quiet split only by abrupt surges of violence, punctuated with the chatter of demons. Belphegor would not always come to see him after a bout. In fact, the old demon lord seemed to be gradually losing interest in its new toy, the intervals between its appearances growing ever longer. The trend concerned Mickie, Miz-Mag had been spending every waking moment scoping the interior of their new home, but the demon was not yet confident in their escape. Mickie sensed he was shifting from a strange curiosity to obstinate liability in his captor¡¯s eyes. Belphegor wanted to know what had occurred within the palace, though not so much the old fiend would risk keeping him around indefinitely.

    If Mickie¡¯s ongoing silence was becoming a bitter draft, his success in the arena was the honeyed chaser. It appeared the higher rungs of demonic society within this sunken city used the battles as a component of their larger political games. Every so often the Mickie¡¯s shifting cage would deliver him to a fight that stank of ulterior motives. Whether it be an opponent far below his abilities, or a separate request from Belphegor to kill during a non-lethal match, there were usually signs. It was after such a fight that the branded man now found himself, battered and broken, lying panting on the floor of his cell. Rather than fulfilling a request for Belphegor, Mickie had found himself on the receiving end of the political bludgeon.

    A group free-for-all had turned into a team match from the moment the announcer said go. The five other fighters had turned on him as one and revealed weapons that were too lethal for a friendly duel. His opponents were not pushovers, and if they had caught Mickie at the beginning of his stay within this raised death pit, then the result would have been different. The sands however, had changed the branded man from a raging bull to a deadly scalpel. In life he had been exceedingly proficient at violence. Now, he was the embodiment of it. When he rose from the dark, the hordes in the stands roared at his arrival. Mickie had yet to give his name, and The Soul Lord¡¯s Dog was apparently too much of a mouthful for the bloodthirsty crowd. Now they just called him the Gunman. An apt name, if a little plain.

    A painful click came as his shoulder realigned itself. Mickie¡¯s arm had been dislocated during the fighting, and apparently his own ministrations were not sufficient for his demonic healing. The cage was nearing the end of its return journey to his quiet little corner of the dreary prison. Thirteen seconds marked the end of its descent and the grumble of the engine ceased as he lined up with the hall. With a grind and a click the chains on the floor sought out his wrists of their own volition. Mickie was prepared for them, kneeling towards the door with arms outstretched. He had long learnt the lesson of attempting to avoid the bonds. No matter where he stood within the cage, the chains were always long enough to reach him, yet always short enough to keep him restricted to the floor. No doubt a feature tied to the indecipherable runes lining their surface.

    The passage beyond his cell was empty, which meant Belphegor would not be coming to visit following his latest match. For all that demons were supposed to be creatures of chaos, Mickie¡¯s captor seemed to prefer the structure of a routine. The old lord would always be waiting for him after a bout, ready with a quip and a laugh. Next would follow a round of questions, though never anything about his brand or deal, and then a reminder of the mortal¡¯s precarious circumstance. If Belphegor was not already here, then it would not be coming at all.

    That did not mean Mickie was alone in the dark, however. Usually, he would spend the time between fights trying to touch on that strange otherworldly force, the power that repaired his damaged armour. This time though, something gave him pause. The silence in the cell was too complete. For all his prison was quiet, there was always the background hum of activity. The distant roar of an engine, a crash of steel on steel, the turning of some hidden gear. All he could here once his cage had settled however, was the gentle hum of fluorescents. It was as if the world abruptly ended beyond the boundary of his imprisonment.

    ¡®I know your there.¡¯

    His voice was soft, yet it echoed within the unnatural silence. A shadow peeled itself from the metal walls of the hall and took the form of a small figure. Blood red eyes peered through the bars at him.

    ¡®I was beginning to believe your initial success in detecting me was the exception rather than the rule.¡¯

    It was the demon that had captured him during his brief flight through the city. For some reason Mickie could not gather, this shadowy fiend had taken an interest in him. It was second only to Belphegor in appearances outside his quiet cage. The only reason he knew it had started visiting was the fact Miz-Mag had awakened from its slumber to find the creature nestled in shadows. Ever since then, Mickie had kept his eyes and ears open after a match, looking for the signs that he was not alone. The strange silence was one such sign, an ability of the demon that veiled an area from the senses of onlookers.

    ¡®What brings you to my humble little box this time? Another chat about my poor performance?¡¯

    ¡®No, I believe you fought well, though perhaps without efficiency.¡¯

    Its voice was sharp and cold, like a breeze before a snowstorm. Now though, after speaking with the fiend a few times, Mickie had learnt to recognize inflection in the ice.

    ¡®Well, isn¡¯t that a glowing bit of commentary. How very unlike you.¡¯

    Belphegor¡¯s intentions were easy to understand. The old demon wanted to solve the puzzle of his brand and uncover the situation within the palace. This other demon however, was proving to be Mickie¡¯s own personal enigma. He could not understand why the shadow kept coming back. They never spoke of anything important. Rather, the fiend would dissect his fight, pointing out the mistakes and offering improvements. At first Mickie had been reluctant to listen to advice from the creature that put him in chains. Over time though, he began to implement the changes, and found himself becoming ever more deadly as a result.

    ¡®So, if you¡¯re not here for a bit of positive reinforcement, then what?¡¯

    Red eyes gazed into his, and in them Mickie thought he saw a glimmer of reluctant melancholy.

    ¡®I came to inform you that this will be our last meeting. Another mortal has emerged from the palace, and Belphegor has taken them into custody.¡¯

    A stone sank into Mickie¡¯s guts. How? The palace was supposed to be closed off from the other layers. He swallowed but did not allow the sudden fear onto his face.

    ¡®I thought the ninth circle was in lockdown?¡¯

    ¡®It is. The stairs are still barred, yet the lord is convicted of this informant¡¯s validity.¡¯

    It could be a trick. Perhaps Belphegor put this demon up to it, another tactic to push Mickie into spilling his secrets.

    ¡®I don¡¯t believe you.¡¯

    His visitor gave a slight huff of amusement, a rare outward display of emotion.

    ¡®Believe what you will. This was not a warning; your fate would be unchanged whether or not I told you of the informant. Have you not sensed in in your battles, the rising pressure?¡¯

    Mickie had sensed it. Belphegor¡¯s increasingly infrequent visits, and battles that were becoming ever more deadly and treacherous.

    ¡®You were a tool, one the lord has put to ample use. He has struck more blows to other houses in the city than you even realise. In doing so however, he has painted a target upon your back.¡¯

    ¡®I though Belphegor wanted the secrets of the Soul Lord?¡¯

    ¡®Indeed, he wants them, but not to the extent he will risk keeping you alive to have them. It may not seem as such at the outset, but above all else the lord is cautious. He will not grasp if he risks being burnt.¡¯

    It was a facet to his questioning that Mickie did not understand. Belphegor would ask circuitous questions about the Soul Lord, touching on Mickie¡¯s presence in the palace and attempting to tease out details on his powers. The old demon would never directly ask about his brand though. It was as if the specifics of his deal were a taboo subject, one that Belphegor expected him to be unable to speak on. Mickie had his theories, yet was reluctant to confirm with the old lord or his current visitor. Showing he did not understand might be worse than remaining in the dark.

    ¡®Alright, the other houses want me dead, I gathered that much. What does it matter? I¡¯ve survived up to this point.¡¯

    ¡®You have survived because you had utility. But now the lord will want you gone.¡¯

    Mickie stared out at the strange shadow. While he was still unsure if the creature was telling the truth, it was becoming clear that he could not afford to call this bluff. The shadow seemed to take his disquiet as fear.

    ¡®Do not fret. He will not slay you outright. You will have the opportunity to die on the sands.¡¯

    Well, wasn¡¯t that just peachy.

    ¡®You mean I¡¯ll be going into more rigged fights?¡¯

    ¡®Indeed. Up to this point there might have been tampering within the bouts, but all contenders still agree on fair terms. Now however, there will be now such restrictions. Belphegor has set up a fight you cannot win.¡¯

    His time was up. Miz-Mag did not yet have a perfect understanding of the palace, but they would just have to make do.

    ¡®How do you even know all this? Surely the houses try to keep this stuff under wraps.¡¯

    Hesitation flickered through the crimson eyes before the shadow answered.

    ¡®Knowledge is power, and I am steeped in it.¡¯

    It appeared that line of questioning was not welcome, because his visitor stepped back from the bars.

    ¡®You are an impressive specimen for a mortal, yet a mortal you are still. No human can outlast hell.¡¯

    The shadows swallowed the sleek frame of the demon, until all that remained was a pair of red eyes in the dark.

    ¡®It is a shame that you were branded by the Soul Lord. I might otherwise have taken you for myself.¡¯

    The fiend vanished as the ambience of his prison returned, leaving Mickie to his fate.

    <hr>

    It was a tense wait for Miz-Mag to reappear. Now Mickie knew his next fight might be his last he wanted to get moving before the cage got going again. That being said, Belphegor had always waited until Mickie was fully healed before shipping him off to get torn up. Even if he was to be sent to his death, the mortal could rely on the old fiend to maintain its habits.

    He was still dripping from the inbuilt shower in his cell when a red figure came into existence before him. Miz-Mag took in Mickie¡¯s bruised form as the mortal released a tense breath.

    ¡®Bit of a rough one kid?¡¯

    ¡®We¡¯re out of time.¡¯

    Miz-Mag tensed, noting the severity of his tone.

    ¡®But I¡¯m not sure¡­¡¯

    ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter.¡¯

    Mickies gave his companion a meaningful look. He did not however, mention the arrival of the new mortal from the palace. The red eyed fiend might be able to obscure audio surveillance, but he certainly could not.

    ¡®By the blood. This is it then. Well, I suppose we could¡­ No that won¡¯t work.¡¯

    The tiny demon paced the cell floor before its branded companion, muttering to itself.

    ¡®Ah well kid. I suppose we have no other choices. I got a path out, but it ain¡¯t an easy one.¡¯

    ¡®No time, it¡¯ll serve.¡¯

    Miz-Mag nodded and relayed the first steps of their escape to him before darting out of the cell. A few minutes past in tense silence before the manacles about Mickie¡¯s wrists clicked open and fell to the floor. The invisible little imp had long since found the controls to the shackles and observed their use as Mickie was sent to a fight. The branded man wasted no time, rising to his feet and calling his gun to his hand.

    The entire barred wall to his cell abruptly slid into the floor, leaving no barrier whatsoever between Mickie and the hall. It was the functionality used when he was sent to the arena, ensuring there was nothing for him to grab onto when the cell dumped him upon the sand. Now the mortal and demon used it to flee their cage in less than six seconds.

    Mickie sprinted down the hall as his companion had directed, taking turns at speed until he reached a plain door at the end of a hall with no cells. The door was locked, just as Miz-Mag had warned him, so Mickie shot it open with a single blast from his weapon. He used a trick he had stumbled upon in during the endless time in the dark between fights. Just as he could use the strange force within himself to repair his clothing, he could also use it upon the triple barrelled gun. It had been a difficult trick to master, requiring more conscious effort than the armour, but the results spoke for themselves.

    A trickle of force was siphoned from within, running along an ethereal channel to poor into the weapon. Grills on the body of the gun glowed and the steel heated. The lion head did not so much roar, as explode with golden light, blasting the heavy metal door right off its hinges. The slab of steel fell into the room and landed atop a screaming imp. Force from the blast was not one directional, and Mickie unsummoned the weapon as it flew from his grasp.

    ¡®By the blood kid, that almost hit me.¡¯

    Miz-Mag cursed loudly as Mickie entered the control room and peered down at its prior occupant. The imp guard was mostly covered by the heavy door, its head poking out to reveal bloody holes in place of eyes, courtesy of his sadistic companion.

    ¡®Pop¡¯em open.¡¯

    Against the far wall was a desk, hunched beneath a multitude of screens displaying images of various cells. Demons and mortals all peered about in confusion as their manacles began to unfasten and fall to the floor. Miz-Mag tap danced across the controls, familiar with the technology if not the runes that marked the chains. Metal barred walls fell away in rapid succession, leaving nothing between the prisoners and freedom but empty air.

    ¡®All done. Left us a path through but we got to move quick.¡¯

    This was the sure-fire start to their escape plan. Miz-Mag had spent hours in this control room, following the imps in during a shift change and watching as they worked the controls to the arena. Codes for access, location designation and layout had been catalogued and memorised by his companion. As the prisoners began to wander into the halls, Mickie marvelled at how much damage the tiny fiend could cause with only time and incentive. Miz-Mag took up its perch on his shoulder, and the duo made for the exit. As they passed the fallen guard a scoff sounded right into his ear.

    ¡®Stupid bloody imp. Popped the door right open when I rang the access.¡¯

    Halls passed in a blur as Mickie hurtled through the labyrinthine prison. Like a beast rousing from slumber, the various gladiatorial captives moved slowly, then with more force as they realised nothing had arrived to stop them. Shouts and laughter began to ring through the metal corridors as the man and demon fled, yet they did not come face to face with any loose prisoners. Miz-Mag had purposefully left a path out of the maze untouched, hoping to redirect any guards and provide them with a swift exit.

    Yet it turned out the chaos of the sudden prison break was not something the pair could avoid completely. Mickie turned at an intersection only to stop as he came face to face with a boulder of a demon. Eight feet of craggy stone suspended on four pillar legs; the mortal was glad he never had to face down this beast on the sands. The rocky behemoth was glancing about confused, as if unsure of where it was, though when it noticed Mickie, he gained its full attention.

    ¡®Hey, uh you mind if I slip by?¡¯

    A mouth like a small cave opened, and his request was met with the sound of an affirmative avalanche. At least Mickie assumed it to be affirmative as the monster shifted into a side passage, making space. He had hoped the other prisoners would be positively inclined to one another, and it was good to see the thought confirmed. Mickie moved by the giant and was about to jog off down the passage when a brief crackle of static sounded from above. A voice followed, emitted from speakers set into the ceiling.

    ¡®My bloodthirsty friends, it would appear there has been an issue with our security systems. While I¡¯m sure this all seems like an exciting opportunity, I highly recommend you only consider it as an amusing diversion from your usual duties.¡¯

    It was the unmistakable voice of Belphegor, projected throughout the prison.

    ¡®Get back to your cells, and we will resolve the issue shortly. Fail to do so, and you will be punished.¡¯

    Mickie had paused to hear the message, but now set off again, worried control would soon be reestablished.

    ¡®I speak now to those of you who carry my mark.¡¯

    Belphegor¡¯s tone abruptly changed from its usual smooth delivery, becoming harder, deeper, like when it had used the strange ability on Mickie.

    ¡®You are to contain those who are without my brand. You will neutralise all unmarked fighters. Do this, for I command it.¡¯

    The words rolled by the duo like wind on a hilltop, yet the giant they had stumbled into was not so fortunate. A groan like the shifting of the earth came from behind. Mickie glanced back to find the massive creature trembling, a strange light glowing on its chest, over the place a heart would be on a human. Squinting, he realised it was a symbol carved into the beast, radiating bloody red. A flame in the centre of a web. The monster abruptly stilled, focussing upon the duo with terrible purpose.

    ¡®Shit. Kid, run.¡¯

    Mickie did not need to be told twice, he set off at a sprint down the hall. The ground quaked and the narrow passage was filled with the sound of a jackhammer as the monster pursued. That must have been Belphegor¡¯s mark on its chest, forcing the stone giant to obey or die. It was a terrifying thought, that the old demon could force his marked to act at any time. Could the same happen to him if the mood struck Miz-Mag? A thought for another time. The monster was gaining on them, momentum building in its clamorous charge.

    ¡®Turn left, just ahead.¡¯

    The intersection came just in time, Mickie diving down the passage as the stone giant thundered past. It was moving far too fast to make their turn and continued past, legs grinding steel to slow. The duo were already making another turn by the time the creature made it to their hall, and soon left it behind as they made for the exit.

    While they had gotten lucky in this encounter, the same could not be said for other prisoners. Shouts of excitement became screams of pain as the freed slaves turned upon one another. At a guess, Belphegor would only have marked those gladiators he did not plan to kill. The best of his bloody dogs, powerful like the stone giant they had just left behind. Mickie knew all too well what that meant for the other captives. Only death or recapture awaited them now.

    ¡®We¡¯re close kid, take a right at the end of this passage.¡¯

    Mickie and his companion could still make it out though, if they stuck to the plan. He darted about the next turn and discovered the narrow halls opening up ahead. A duo of guards nearly crashed right into him as they raced towards the unfolding debacle. The first died before it even got the chance to raise its rifle, head becoming a gory shower. Mickie grasped the now headless imp by its armour jacket, not slowing his sprint as he spun the rifle and shot the second in passing. A body thudded to the floor as he continues towards the exit, corpse still in hand.

    The passage emerged into a small room containing a staircase, sealed behind a metal sliding door. Originally the duo had no solution for the obstacle other than Mickie¡¯s gun, same as with the control room door. Now though, an alternative was dangling from the branded mortal¡¯s hand, dripping blood onto the floor. It was the work of a few moments to rip free a pass card from the corpse and swipe it against the reader. He had been slightly worried there might be some form of lockdown in effect, but the door slid open without issue.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    According to Miz-Mag they were held beneath the cup atop the spire, close to the massive arena. The plan required them to gain some height and head towards arrival hangar for the more important guests of the arena. It was an unexpectedly peaceful climb to the destination floor, no guards or staff blocking the staircase. When they reached the correct level however, another door barred their path, and this time the swipe card failed to provide access. Mickie sighed, pocketed the slim piece of plastic, and blew apart the door with a charged shot from his gun.

    ¡®I only managed to slip up here once, so it¡¯s a bit foggy, but we gotta head straight down this hall.¡¯

    After clearing the scene of their explosive entry Mickie slowed to a brisk walk, giving Miz-Mag time to recall the path onwards. Occasionally demons and mortals passed them, frantic with the news of the breakout and the clamour he had just caused. He received a couple of double takes, being a familiar face to any who frequented the fights. However, Mickie did not meet any eyes or flee the confused glances, instead relying on chaos to hold his cover just a bit longer.

    Eventually they turned into a hall that pressed right against the side of the huge spire top. Rather than walls surrounding the passage, one side was open to the dark skies above the black city. Twinkling lights of countless districts stretched out before him, staggered by cliffs of rough stone. After so long in the dark, the expanse took Mickie¡¯s breath away, just as it had went he first stepped out of the tower.

    ¡®Stop gawping kid, the chain¡¯s just down this path, we¡­¡¯

    His companion cut off abruptly with a squeak, going rigid on Mickie¡¯s shoulder. Turning about, the marked man discovered they had not been nearly as subtle as he had hoped. A familiar figure rose from the shadows, emerging like a beast from the deep to bar their path. Bloody eyes met his, and Mickie felt his hopes of escape begin to wither as silence blanketed the world.

    ¡®How?¡¯

    He breathed the question softly, not directing it at the demon before them, but getting an answer all the same.

    ¡®I know you mortal. I have known you from the moment I heard of how you escaped the tower. You are a bull, charging ever onwards, relying upon momentum and chaos to carry you fourth. I observed it within the Hive, and I observed it in the arena.¡¯

    The dreaded shadow was standing in the open before him, not even bothering to veil itself with darkness.

    ¡®You do not fight for glory, you fight to survive. I figured you might attempt an escape when encountering impending death.¡¯

    Shouts came from further in the halls accompanied by the tromp of boots.

    ¡®I do not know how you slipped your cage, but I know you had powers that lay unrevealed. The guards think you are mad, muttering to yourself in the dark. But you are not mad. You are driven.¡¯

    ¡®Why tell me of the fight? Push me into escaping only to stop me?¡¯

    His voice shifted, getting lower as anger began to churn in his chest. They were so close. Then to his surprise, the demon reached up and pulled upon the fabric that cocooned its head. Dark cloth fell away, spilling out long black hair. A face was revealed, beautiful and cold, with high cheekbones above a slender neck. Crimson lips, pressed flat in a pitiless line. Mickie would almost think the fiend a human woman, if not for the horns that adorned its head. They were small and sharp, circling its skull like a crown of black bone.

    ¡®I require your fall. A sacrifice for something greater. Before you go however, I will grant you the privilege of knowing who it is you sacrifice for. My name is Illiath, descendant of the fallen queen Lilith. I am the last of my house, but I will not be the end of it.¡¯

    The guards were getting close now, soon they would be upon him. Mickie tried to parse the demon¡¯s words, derive their deeper implications, but the fear and anger were making it difficult. He attempted to empty himself of it all, but the quiet calm was too far from reach to call.

    ¡®Kid you need to do something or we¡¯re screwed.¡¯

    Mickie acted, raising his gun and firing at the proud demon. Expecting the fiend to explode into shadow he made to dash past. Except Illiath did not take the blast head on, the demon weaved sideways, past his gunshot and came straight at him. A knife flashed towards his head, but Mickie stepped past it, attempting to grapple. It was then that Illiath¡¯s form became murky, like paint in a pond. The mortal¡¯s hands passed through the demon¡¯s neck and the rest of him followed, stumbling forward. A stinging heat took him in the back of a knee and Mickie crumpled to the floor, grasping the limb, and finding his hands coming back bloody.

    ¡®You are but a mortal. Learn your place.¡¯

    The voice came from above, so very close to his prone for. With a roar of frustration Mickie, pushed off the ground so hard he crashed into the fiend¡¯s leg. He grasped soft fabric in one hand while raising his weapon in the other. A glimpse of Illiath¡¯s face provided a satisfying, wide eyed look of shock. Mickie expected the demon to turn to shadow as his finger tightened on the trigger. Instead, the black horned hell spawn launched itself backwards with such force that the fabric of its clothing was pulled from his grasp.

    Mickie shot fading shadow as Illiath leapt over the railing and into opening air. In an instant the demon was gone, disappearing as abruptly as it had arrived. He was victorious but it did not matter that Mickie had managed to scare the fiend away, the damage was already done. He tried to stand, but his cut leg refused to cooperate. The pursuing guards were close now, and even as he dragged himself towards the end of the hall, Mickie knew he would never make it.

    The escape had failed, and his life would be forfeit.

    <hr>

    He put up a desperate struggle, but eventually the guards overwhelmed Mickie and beat him into a half-conscious fugue. They dragged him roughly back to his cell, where the remnants of the breakout where being cleaned off the floors and walls. Miz- Mag was gone, jumping from his body as the guards beat him, then unable to catch back up when they dragged him away. Mickie did not know if his companion had returned to rest, or was just stuck behind one of the doors leading back to the prison. Either way he was chained alone in his cell, lying in a daze as groans and whimpers reached him through the narrow halls.

    It would have worked if not for Illiath. They had been so close. The thought of the humanoid demon made Mickie burn with anger. It felt like a betrayal, as stupid as the thought was. During his time in the dark, the red eyed fiend had been the only creature with whom he could speak somewhat openly. Miz-Mag was always exploring, and when they did talk, he had to be wary of prying ears. Even the little he had said was enough to clue in a keen eared demon like Illiath, anything more and his secret might have been pieced together. So, he had come to enjoy the talks with the living shadow, if only because they kept him sane.

    Except it had all been a ruse, and he was a fool for not seeing it earlier. Mickie of all people should have noticed the tactical undercurrent, that the demon visited him to gain his trust. Not to win him over completely, but just enough that when it told him of his impending doom, he might act on the information. He just could not put together why. Illiath had mention its house, that of Lillith. It was a name Mickie recognized, and the demon to whom it belonged was apparently dead. He just could not see the link between his death and the return of a fallen demonic house.

    Pain faded with time, his body healing its bruises and breaks, leg repairing the cut that put an end to his escape. Yet, Mickie¡¯s mood remained dark, he knew what was to come and when the sound of claws on steel reached him, it felt like a funeral dirge. Belphegor came to a stop outside his cage, arms locked together behind its back and trailed by the usual older woman. Time past in silence as the old fiend watched him, emerald eyes shadowed and without their usual twinkle.

    ¡®You know, I am quite fond of humanity. It¡¯s how I earned my old station as the lord of Sloth.¡¯

    Though the cries of the other prisoners had died down, the occasional moan or sob still echoed through the halls.

    ¡®I give mortals opportunity that other demons do not, shepherd them as others do not. In return, all I ask for is loyalty.¡¯

    Mickie strained his sore neck, looking into the eyes of his captor. He felt as he did before his death in the living world, empty, drained of energy and drive.

    ¡®You were serving me well. I would have had you tame the sands, kept you alive even with the mark of the Soul Lord. Yet you have spit in my eye.¡¯

    ¡®You were going to kill me, send me into a fight I could never win.¡¯

    The red skinned demon¡¯s thin brows furrow in a frown.

    ¡®Whatever gave you that notion? I do not dispose those who perform without cause. It is only now you have given me such.¡¯

    ¡®But¡­¡¯

    Mickie almost spoke of Illiath but stopped himself short. The shadowy fiend only ever came with that shrouding veil up, and when he escaped it had been Illiath that enabled his capture. It just went to show how badly he had been played. He would look like he was grasping if he laid blame upon the red eyed demon.

    ¡®But what?¡¯

    Belphegor waited for him to elaborate, then gave a heavy sigh after a few moments passed in tense silence.

    ¡®Very well. I will give you one final chance to tell me of what occurred within the palace. Prove to me that you are more trouble than you are worth.¡¯

    The old lord straightened a cuff as he stared intently at the haggard mortal, waiting for a response. Mickie let his head fall back against the hard floor with a thud. So, the comment about the new arrival had also been part of the ruse, an added hammer to drive home the lie of his impending demise. He had misjudged Illiath and Belphegor both, by trusting the first in the slightest and underestimating the value of loyalty to the second. It did not matter if he spoke of the events in the ninth layer. His tenure as Belphegor¡¯s pit slave had been shaky at best, there would be no recovering from this. Talking would just hurt the chances of the Kindle Kin. A minute ticked by before Belphegor let lose a sigh of dissatisfaction.

    ¡®You know, I could have tortured you. Pulled you apart piece by piece until you let slip what I wanted. Yet I showed restraint, because I care for you humans more than you care for yourselves. For centuries I have shaped, I have guided, and this is the repayment I receive.¡¯

    Belphegor turned to his mortal companion and gave her a sorry shake of the head, as if to say can you believe it. Mickie just stared. He could shout that he had been tortured, held in the dark and only taken out to kill or be killed. But the scrawny demon knew that. It was just pandering, putting on a show for its silent partner.

    ¡®Very well then. If you so desperately want to keep your secrets, then you can have them. But I¡¯ll have one last show out of you. You mentioned an impossible fight, well do I have one ready for you.¡¯

    A clap rang through his prison as the fiend brough its clawed hands together.

    ¡®Who knows though, you haven¡¯t died yet.¡¯

    With a humourless chuckle Belphegor turned, and left Mickie to be thrown to the dogs one final time.

    <hr>

    Hours later the cage rumbled to life and began its usual grinding journey towards the arena. Mickie remained on the floor throughout, listless, and still aching from the beating he had taken. He was in that freezer again, cold tiles against his knees and nothing but a weary pit in his gut. An entire circle of Hell conquered, and this was how he would end? Just another a bloody smear on the sand?

    Anger began to spark in his gut, a flame sputtered to life, low and hot. No. The abyss would not have him yet, the uppity demons were not going to just lop off his head. They wanted a show, a spectacle, to set him against an impossible foe and then watch him die. But he had given his word to Aria before she took her own life. To die here would be to show the demons that he was nothing but a tool for their amusement. If he killed their champion though, that would give them second thoughts.

    No foe was truly invincible, and he had spent countless fights on the sands, working, refining, becoming a more deadly than he had ever been before. He would kill their impossible enemy, then once he was done, he would find another way out of this prison.

    The cell rose into the arena, welcomed by the roaring crowd. Mickie slid feet first from his prison as it tilted, landing comfortably in the sand. The rows of demons were close to a frenzy, hollering with excitement and bloodlust as the announcer rumbled out its usual niceties. Across the arena a telltale bulge in the sand indicated the arrival of his foe.

    ¡®Here it is. A match we have all dreamt of since the Gunman first drew blood upon the sands. A fight that you can tell your kin-spawn about. Today a fan favourite takes on the Queen of our halls, and as customary for challengers to the throne, this will be a deathmatch.¡¯

    His opponent¡¯s cage did not have the usual opening at the front. As far as Mickie could tell it was a perfect box, without space even for air to flow. Then the roof split, four equal triangles rising to turn each wall into an oddly shaped arrow. As the solid steel points then proceeded to sink into the floor, the crowd went from frenzied to completely mental.

    ¡®Welcome to the sand, our lady of pale marble. The beautiful, the terrible, Stone Eye!¡¯

    A figure came into view upon the open platform left by the cage. Tall, and armoured in shining plate. In one gauntleted hand his adversary held a monstrous tower shield, in the other, a short spear with a curved blade. Whatever hid behind the steel armour was clearly humanoid, though Mickie could not make out if it was human or demon beneath the gleaming shell.

    ¡®I hope your bets are in, dearest denizens, because the fight, starts, now!¡¯

    The customary horn sounded as Mickie called his gun to his hand. Without hesitation he began to stalk forward, and at the same moment his armoured adversary did the same. They approached one another like a pair of stalking tigers, steady and focussed. As the so-called Stone Eye neared, Mickie made out details on its armour. The head was the yawning jaws of a great serpent, the mouth holding a dark visor that would be at home on a motorcycle helmet. Snake motifs adorned the chest plate and greaves, curling reptiles with tinted orange eyes. It was an ensemble far beyond anything Mickie had encountered within the arena so far.

    The audience wanted blood, and armour was generally considered a boring hinderance at best. Mickie was an exception to the rule with his ability to summon protection, and apparently this champion was as well. Anger flickered cold in his chest. What kind of creature hid behind that tinted face plate, to have earned such protection. No doubt he was facing the favourite pet of this twisted city¡¯s high and mighty.

    As they neared one another, the two warriors did not strike out. Instead, they circled; assessing, judging, waiting for the first move to begin the bloodshed. Mickie¡¯s gun was held low and at the ready, not yet pointed at the Stone Eye but resting with his finger on the trigger. For its part the serpentine gladiator kept its massive tower shield at the ready, prepared to intercept any attack he threw its way.

    Secretly, subtlety, Mickie willed the power he held within towards the weapon in his hand. The body of the gun began to glow with internal light as the leopard head clicked into place at the top of the barrel. He was close to the armoured warrior, with enough charge he might be able to blow right through that shield and win with a single shot.

    Suddenly, the Stone Eye moved. He had been prepared for the strike but was still caught off guard by his adversary¡¯s speed. It was almost on him when Mickie got his overcharged weapon up and fired. The weapon kicked so hard it flew from his grip, nearly breaking his pact strengthened hand in the process. If the trigger had a guard, it might have even ripped his pointer finger clean off.

    The shot sent him stumbling back, and in doing so saved Mickie life. A glint of metal whispered past his neck as the tower shield buckled. It had been the spear with the crescent tip, inches from taking his head clean off. Unfortunately, his attack had not been as devastating as intended. The tower shield was made from sturdy stuff, warped, and deformed, but not broken. Another swing off the spear came at him, and Mickie blocked it, wedging the blade between the roaring mouths of his gun barrel.

    Even one handed, the strength of the attack was such that he struggled to resist it with both of his. Shining metal inched towards his head, steel hungry for the taste of his flesh. Mickie heaved and with a roar of effort he shoved the curved razor away and danced backwards. The Stone Eye attempted to follow but stumbled as the tower shield dragged awkwardly in the sand. With a serpentine hiss of pain, the warrior sliced away the strapping of the armament, letting it fall. Good to know his attack had not been for nothing.

    The armoured warrior rushed him and Mickie tried one of his favourite tricks, raising his gun before it had fully reloaded. The Stone Eye did not so much as twitch, coming right at him and stabbing forward with the spear. Mickie eye¡¯s widened, it must have been informed of his abilities and their limits in advance. He twisted sideways and felt the weapon slide along the leather on his back, failing to penetrate the summoned material.

    Instead of ducking away the branded man grasped a hold of the spear¡¯s haft with one hand as the gun finally clicked over to the Lion¡¯s head. Going straight for the kill he raised the weapon. Even as his finger squeezed the trigger the Stone Eyes twisted unnaturally. It folded backwards and sideways in an attempt to avoid the golden roar of the lion, but Mickie was too close. Steel screamed as it tore and blood sprayed as he carved through the front of the gladiator¡¯s chest plate, raking its collarbone and shoulder with claws of force and flame.

    Before Mickie could untangle himself the Stone Eye straightened, whipping upright and forward like a coiled spring. The helmet of his foe crashed into Mickie¡¯s face, crushing his nose like an empty can. Briefly blacking out, awareness returned as fire speared into his left thigh, stars twinkly as he reeled backwards. Blood pulsed slowly from a ragged gash, carved through the weaker protection of his jeans. There was no time to rest though, his opponent did not want to give his gun time enough to reload.

    Mickie staggered away from a cyclone of slashes. He took a cut on his hand, his cheek, his lower stomach. Every time his gun reloaded the Stone Eye would twist and swing at it, sending the shots askew or letting them glance off its armour. It had his measure, knew his tempo. When Mickie had seen his opponents armour, he had thought that it might be slow. But this creature was a machine, eerily fast and dangerously precise. It made no noise as it came after him, uncaring of the wounds he had managed to inflict. The crescent spear was a dancing tongue that lashed and probed him without respite. Mickie needed to change the pacing, disrupt the rhythm of the battle. It was time to play his hidden card.

    When he had first discovered the ability to overcharge his gun, it had swiftly been followed by another idea. One of the biggest weaknesses of his strange weapon was its delay between shots. It made groups of enemies are more challenging prospect and put him at risk if he failed to kill immediately. So Mickie had concluded, that if he could shoot harder, then he could probably shoot faster. He had only ever tested it once, nestled in the dark of his cell where the camera would hear a gunshot but see nothing. It worked, but the cost to his reserves of power was high.

    Deep within that abstract self his soul thrummed with nascent energy, almost eager for use. Mickie twisted his gun up as it completed a normal reload cycle, but the Stone eye was ready. As he pulled the trigger his foe spun sideways and whipped the gun aside with the butt of the crescent spear. The shot went wide and his foe was quick to capitalise on the misfire. Steel glinted as a curved blade swung for the branded man¡¯s side. Mickie could have dodged it for the price of another cut, but instead he stood firm.

    Pain radiated up his side as steel met leather with enough force that it slid through and dug into his ribs. Stumbling, he grabbed hold of the spear shaft as it was wrenched free. Energy roared through him and into the steaming gun. Lethargy overcame him as his ethereal cup ran almost dry, but he was rewarded by a blast of heated air and the sound of a barrel thunking into place.

    Mickie hauled on the spear, dragging himself forward. As the gun rose the Stone Eye hesitated, surprised. He fired into the hand holding the spear. Hardened wood accompanied blood in the air as his enemy¡¯s weapon exploded in its grasp. With a rare cry of pain, his opponent staggered back, finally giving Mickie the space he so desired. Blood dripped from a mangled gauntlet, steel fingers warped into strange directions.

    ¡®Look at that! The Gunman can hold his own! Perhaps we should let the beast out of its cage then?¡¯

    The slight reprieve finally let some of the announcer¡¯s endless prattle filter through the blood pounding in his ears. While the two fighters had been locked in their deadly dance the audience had been held in tense silence. Now they started up again, not just shouts and cheers but an underlying chorus. A chant that sent shivers down his spin.

    ¡®Open. Eye. Open. Eye. Open. Eye.¡¯

    Abruptly the Stone Eye moved. Not to engage him, but in a retreat that took it out of his weapon¡¯s range. Mickie glanced about cautiously, unsure of what was about to happen.

    ¡®Well then, let¡¯s take off the training wheels.¡¯

    Then, to his surprise, the armour on his opponent¡¯s body began to flake off like dead skin. Greaves slid to the sand, gauntlets following soon after. Scales of burnished gold reflected the light, coating clawed hands and muscled legs. Partway up each appendage the shining reptilian scales shifted to dark skin that was distinctly human. The chest plate fell heavily to the ground, revealing a prisoner¡¯s clothes, ragged, stained and worn. He noticed runes of deep red embedded in the armour¡¯s inside, same as those that lined the chains in his cell. Why would his enemy¡¯s equipment be controlled like his shackles?

    Soon all that remained of the shining armour was the serpentine helmet. The wounds he had inflicted on his opponent were more visible now, one mangled hand and an arm that appeared dislocated. Blood seeped from a gash near the demon¡¯s collarbone alongside a plethora of other small cuts. Seeing the injuries should have buoyed Mickie, yet all he felt was a rising dread. Something nagged at him. A hall within the spire¡¯s peak danced across his mind¡¯s eye, lined with statues of stone warriors. He swallowed. Serpents, Stone Eye, statues, scaled skin. It was like the old Greek legend of Medusa. Now he knew why the armour was controlled remotely. It wasn¡¯t to protect the champion from him, but to protect him from its deadly gaze.

    Twisting its broken hand painfully around its injured arm, the scaled fiend wrenched the appendage back into place. Then both hands moved to the helmet and removed it slowly, as if pulling a splinter from a wound. Mickie glimpsed bronze hair, broad strands that twirled, shifted, moved. His eyes fell to the demon¡¯s feet as the yawing serpent¡¯s head hit the sand. The crowd roared their approval at the unveiling, and he glanced about to find the masses wearing tinted glasses. Just like those that could be found in a movie theatre. The sight might have made him laugh if he wasn¡¯t so concerned for his own unprotected eye sockets.

    The gorgon took one slow step forward on the sand, then another. Mickie did not know what to do, he could not pause to aim, and risk meeting the demon¡¯s gaze. His opponent paused by its dropped tower shield, bending down to heft the item with its recently repaired arm. Supporting something so heavy on a limb so recently dislocated should have been painful, but the gorgon bore the weight without so much as a grunt. Then, it ran at him, covering the ground at incredible speed with the shield held aloft. Panicked, Mickie readied himself for the second round of their duel, keeping his eyes to the ground before the Stone Eye.

    When the gorgon nearby he raised his weapon and fired, half blind and inaccurate. The shot caught the edge of the tower shield, denting it further. His opponent had been expecting the move though, and the shield was supported by the gorgon¡¯s full body weight. With hardly a stumble the serpentine warrior was on him, the protective slab of iron discarded in favour of deadly claws. Mickie tried to weave back, nearly looked up, and froze in horror. The blow took him in the shoulder, not punching through his jacket but landing like a hammer. Then a second took him in the chest, a third in the thigh.

    It knew he would not look up and played on that advantage, always striking high to low. Mickie¡¯s collarbone popped painfully, and he tried to back off, desperate for distance. The gorgon stuck to him like glue, faster without its armour, not giving him a moment to retaliate. He needed to do something, to fight back, to focus. The gun barrel rotated, and Mickie took the chance it presented, raising the weapon without a thought to direction and firing. Miraculously, the blind shot clipped his opponent¡¯s thigh, carving off a chunk of scales and flesh.

    The haggard mortal staggered back as the Stone Eye gave a serpentine hiss of pain. In the seconds before it came on him again, Mickie withdrew into himself. Emotions broiled within, hot anger, writhing panic, twitching pain. They ruled him, feral as a wild beast with instinct only to snap at claw. He needed to pause, to take back control. As the Stone Eye closed, he took a steadying breath, and with it finally locked out everything but the immediacy of the fight. A claw came for his shoulder and Mickie twisted sideways, letting it pass.

    Fury and pain made the gorgon strong, but also rash. He stepped into the monster, driving a knee into its gut. Locks of twisting bronze serpents writhed as before his eyes, but Mickie¡¯s attention was drawn to something just below them. The gorgon¡¯s forehead was tattooed, red ink in the shape of a crescent moon, encircled by a ring of jutting bone. As the monster pulled back he shifted his focus, avoiding its gaze and whipping his gun up. The steel cracked into the nest of snakes and staggered the gorgon.

    It paused, stunned from the blow to the head, letting Mickie dance sideways and stomp on a knee with everything he had. The joint held but the Stone Eye gave a pained cry and slowed. He laid into it, moving always, focussed on anything but the face, the eyes. Keep by its injured hand, take the hits he could, slide by those he couldn¡¯t.

    The reload of his weapon signalled that it was time to end the fight. His opponent was on one knee, still struggling to rise under his onslaught. The weapon swung up to fire, this time at the head. Yet Mickie had not been the only one to hear the thunking sound of death¡¯s footstep. With a scream of pain and fury the gorgon exploded up towards him. Its good hand wrapped about his jaw, the other about the barrel of his gun.

    In silence the two gladiators strained against one another, Mickie twisting his weapon towards the stone, his opponent forcing his head closer, drawing his eyes in. Claws cut through the meat of his cheek, grinding against teeth. The demon was stronger, but its hand was a ruin, struggling to hold the gun back. Mickie focussed on the struggle over that cylinder of steel, even as his forehead was forced against the gorgon¡¯s he kept his eyes away. Just a bit further, the bloody grip slackened, and the leopard¡¯s head pressed into the neck of his foe.

    ¡®No¡­¡¯

    The noise was not a hiss, not an angry roar, or a defiant shout. It was a whisper, the last gasp of someone feeling hope slip through their fingers. A human sound. The gentle pain of it broke Mickie from his shell of cold violence, not completely, but enough that his focus slipped for just a moment.

    And in that moment, he looked.

    The eyes were bronze speckled with golden flecks. Slitted pupils stared into his, and within them he saw a reflection of himself. The pain, the rage, the desperation, and the fading hope. For eyes that were so deadly to behold they displayed so much, untrained in hiding emotion because nobody dared to look. Something itched inside Mickie, a sensation like ants were crawling through his veins. It snapped the mortal from his stupefaction, the mistake he had just made splashing his brain with icy water. His finger twitched on the trigger of the gun even as his felt his body changing, he could still kill the demon. But those eyes were still locked with his, and even as his hand hardened, he found his grip slackening on the weapon. The last thing Mickie saw before he fell deep within himself was the eyes of his enemy, softening in sadness.

 15 â€“ Mouse in the Machine

    The grand hall was heavy with the silence of its marble occupants. Lined along the walls, they stood in myriad poses, pride, fear, and helplessness being most prominent. The statues wore a variety of clothing and armour, dusty from the idle flow of time yet still scarred from battle. One end of the hall housed a monstrous door, banded in dark iron and barricaded by a heavy bar. Beside that oversized threshold a new addition to the collection of white stone stood sentinel. It differed from its ilk in that the clothes upon this warrior¡¯s back were not made of real leather or cloth, but rather made from the same stone as its body. Held in a hand ridged with the marks of a strange brand was a beautifully carved gun. Marble shaped into a rotating barrel with three snarling heads at its end, grills on the body revealing the lumps of unknowable machinery within the weapon.

    For a time, this warrior had drawn the crowds of the dark city, all wanting to get up close and personal with the mortal who very nearly killed their champion. Eventually interest waned and the hall return to its usual quiet, leaving the Gunman to the silence amongst its stone kin. An abrupt flash of red saw a tiny little being come into existence beside the warrior¡¯s bare foot. The demon glanced about in drowsy resignation before taking a seat on its companion¡¯s big toe.

    ¡®Welp, it was good while it lasted kid.¡¯

    Miz-Mag kicked its little legs into the air. For a time, the fiend had hoped Mickie might awake of his own abilities. After all, the kid¡¯s wounds had still healed even though his body was made of stone. A couple of weeks after the last scratch had disappeared however, Miz-Mag was finally forced to admit that its companion was most likely not coming back without help. That was, if there was even a way to turn the mortal back to flesh and blood. The tiny fiend had finally finished mapping out the upper levels of the spire during its last waking hours, and was beginning to feel as it had in the depths of the palace. Trapped once again, though now by its own deal rather than the Palace Lord. No matter how far Miz-Mag travelled, it would eventually be drawn back to Mickie¡¯s side.

    The sharp click of boots on stone broke the silence and the demon¡¯s dour thoughts. The tiny demon glanced up to find a human approaching, a familiar older woman with sharp features and grey hair. She came to a stop before the it¡¯s stony companion, standing a hesitant few feet from the Gunman¡¯s frozen form. Curious, Miz-Mag clambered up to Mickie¡¯s shoulder, trying to puzzle out what had brought this mortal into the grand hall. While the fiend had not been around its partner constantly, it recalled a number of visiting faces, and this woman was not among them.

    There was emotion on her weathered face, a softening of the eyes and tensity to the jaw that were difficult to categorise. Miz-Mag found mortals a confusing lot at the best of times, and all it was used to from the slaves in the palace was a downcast refrain of weary fear. When the woman abruptly stepped forward the little demon nearly leapt from its perch in surprise. She came within a couple feet of Mickie and reached out a hand, fingers touching his cheek where the gorgon had shredded flesh with its claws. The marble was smooth now, healed by the bond between demon and man. The older woman turned her attention to the ridged brand, tracing the outline of the animals and peering close at the symbols within.

    ¡®Strange to see you so captivated by another mortal.¡¯

    Miz-Mag and the human observer both jumped at the cool voice. It had the demon glancing about the shadows until he uncovered a figure, leaning against the back of another statue. The abilities of Illiath were strange to the tiny fiend¡¯s powerful eyesight. More than just concealing itself in shadow, the sneaky hell spawn was draped in it. Nestled between the layers of darkness like paper in an envelope.

    ¡®I could say the same to you, Illiath.¡¯

    It was the first time Miz-Mag had heard the woman speak, though her voice was just as he would have guessed. Hard as steel, cool as ice, the kind of tone one acquires from a lifetime walking the razors edge of power. The layers of shadow fell away from Lillith¡¯s descendant, the demon stepping out from behind the statue.

    ¡®Watch your tone, Anima. You would do well not to speak to me as an equal.¡¯

    The woman, apparently named Anima, did not look at all threatened.

    ¡®You cannot afford to harm me. We both know it.¡¯

    She glanced back at Mickie.

    ¡®It is a shame this one could not prove more useful to the lord. In fact, I find myself wondering what inspired his futile attempt at escape.¡¯

    The words came out with a musing ring, but Anima¡¯s eyes were locked upon Illiath¡¯s.

    ¡®I would not know; you mortals are such unpredictable creatures.¡¯

    Miz-Mag felt that was a bit rich, coming from a fellow spawn of this chaotic realm.

    ¡®That we are I suppose. We were just lucky you were around to cut the Gunman¡¯s run of luck short.¡¯

    ¡®Indeed.¡¯

    Run of luck? Oblivious to the hostility between the pair, Miz-Mag kicked its companion¡¯s stony neck in annoyance, hurting its clawed foot. It let out a stream of curses the others could not hear.

    ¡®Stinkin¡¯ oversized bug-warts. Run of luck! More like weeks of hard work and meticulous planning.¡¯

    The tiny fiend glared at Illiath, recalling how the demon¡¯s setup had been what caused them to act in haste. They might have succeeded too, if the red-eyed shadow had not made an appearance near the exit. Miz-Mag maintained a rule of social distant from those it considered dangerous, but this sneaky demon was testing its resolve. Maybe just an eye? Or perhaps a finger. Yes, that would show them.

    ¡®Run of luck my throbbing¡­¡¯

    ¡®So, shall we get underway?¡¯

    Illiath abruptly cut off Miz-Mag¡¯s muttering¡¯s, breaking off the silent staring contest with Anima. The human gave a slow nod, still glaring daggers.

    ¡®Yes. I have a flyer waiting, please follow me.¡¯

    It looked as though the duo were about to leave. Miz-Mag figured that it might be worth its while to peek at what they were up to. It leapt the small gap to Anima as the woman turned to go, grabbing hold of the back of her collar. Clambering to take a seat upon her rigid shoulder, the unseen fiend settled in for the ride.

    They wound their way through the now familiar corridors of the upper spire, eventually reaching an door that Miz-Mag had yet to find a way through. Anima swiped a pass against the reader and pushed into a small hangar. Unlike the industrial style dock that delivered the demon and its human to the arena, this space was more comfortable in design. Plain, clean, and housing a single flying device with four seats set amongst a nest of rotor blades and pipework. The woman and her tail did not speak as they clambered into the vehicle, Anima taking the controls while Illiath buckled into the back.

    Wary of the wind as they slowly rose into the air, Miz-Mag clambered down on a spare seat and cautiously peaked over the flyer¡¯s side. They coasted out of the small hangar and into the dark skies of the black city. Miz-Mag¡¯s exploration had provided it with ample opportunity to take in the tiered skyline, though it welcome the new perspective that flying provided. They followed one of the cardinal roads, shooting past trundling transports before veering off towards a nest of industry on the fourth ridge.

    Metal warehouses hunched low over furnaces and factories, providing sporadic glimpses of fire and metal through smoke clogged openings. This place was a different scene than the bloody glamour of the arena, though no less violent to those who toiled. Miz-Mag glimpsed humans in ragged garments, working monstrous machines and hauling heavy loads. Fiery demons with stone skin oversaw the work, keeping the slaves in line with the threat of their presence.

    Their transport set down atop a blocky concrete building, the only one of its kind amidst the expansive industrial zone. As the roar of the rushing air faded the sounds of this sector took their place. The grinding of metal, shouting of foreman and roar of machinery. It reminded Miz-Mag of the workshops it and Mickie had ran through in the Mechanist¡¯s liar.

    Anima and Illiath disembarked the flyer, their undetectable companion retaking its previous perch. The flat rooftop had a protruding stairwell that provided access to the building¡¯s interior, which the silent band moved through. They wound through a tastefully decorated hall of soft wooden panelling and painted scenes of the city. The d¨¦cor reminded Miz-Mag of the palace¡¯s upper levels, not as gaudy but still unnerving. Anima led them to a set of hazy glass doors and knocked with two precise knuckle wraps.

    The doors swung open on motorised hinges, revealing Belphegor sitting comfortably behind of monstrous desk of carved white stone. Behind the ancient demon was floor to ceiling windows, providing a vista of the industrial district and city beyond. As their group entered a shadow drew Miz-Mag¡¯s eyes to the roof, where the skeleton of some massive monster hung. Long tailed with four clawed feet, the beast was positioned with outstretch wings, forever floating above the old demon lord¡¯s head. An oversized human head capped the creature, jaw hanging opening in an endless scream.

    ¡®Welcome, dear Illiath, it is good to see you.¡¯

    Belphegor waved its guest to a plush chair across the desk, and the red eyed demon took the seat. Anima moved to the side of the door and stood at attention as the two fiends conversed.

    ¡®My lord.¡¯

    Illiath removed the wrappings from her face, dark hair spilling forth and horns glinting in the light above.

    ¡®Ah, so cold, yet so beautiful. How much you remind me of Lillith.¡¯

    The younger demon straightened and puffed up its chest a little as the complemented landed. Miz-Mag noticed Anima giving a slight eye roll.

    ¡®You wished to see me lord?¡¯

    There was an eagerness to the question that had been absent from Illiath up until now.

    ¡®I did. I wanted to thank you for services rendered up until this point and discuss the future.¡¯

    The dark-haired demon gave a tiny shudder of anticipation.

    ¡®It has been my pleasure lord, and I would be happy to undertake any further tasks you might have for me.¡¯

    The sycophantic pitch to the demon¡¯s reply made Miz-Mag¡¯s stomach turn. This deadly killer was acting little better than a scrawny imp, where was its fiendish pride?

    ¡®Very good. That was a masterful play you made against the bugs and their Hive, angering them while delivering such an impressive prize to me.

    ¡®It was not particularly difficult. The bugs are stupid, and the mortal could never have hoped to match me.¡¯

    ¡®Still, a debt is owed, and I believe I know just the thing.¡¯

    Excitement built in the air as Illiath leant forward on its seat. Belphegor gave its shark toothed grin.

    ¡®Do you know why I asked you here?¡¯

    Illiath gave a small shake of its head.

    ¡®Well, I believe I am reaching the point where my latest venture is becoming self sufficient. We are almost ready begin exporting. This means my active contribution to the ongoing work will be significantly reduced, and a governor placed on this very chair.¡¯

    Even Anima seemed interested, tilting ever so slightly towards the conversation.

    ¡®I just have one final problem. One that I think you are best positioned to help me solve.¡¯

    ¡®Of course, lord.¡¯

    Belphegor reached under the desk and retrieved a cloth bundle, placing it gently atop the pale stone. The old demon peeled back layers of fabric to reveal a deadly looking dagger. It was a simple item, leather grip with a blade the colour of old rose petals. Runes throbbed along the flat, brutal symbols that Miz-Mag was getting tired of not understanding.

    ¡®Is that?¡¯

    Illiath was wide eyed, looking between Belphegor and the small weapon. The old lord grinned and gave a lazy nod.

    ¡®Yes, my dear, soul killer runes still active. Got it from a gaggle trying to slip up into the spire.¡¯

    ¡®The spire? Why?¡¯

    ¡®To take what was mine of course.¡¯

    It was not a true answer, but Illiath was far too excited and impressed to press. The red-eyed fiend reached for the weapon, looking to Belphegor for permission.

    ¡®Go ahead. Do use the cloth though, I need it free of contaminants.¡¯

    Illiath pinched the handle through a rag and raised the weapon to eye level, examining it in detail.

    ¡®I thought the power was only useable by the urchin. Unless¡­¡¯

    Belphegor¡¯s wicked smile served as a response for Illiath, though not one that Miz-Mag could parse.

    ¡®Now as for what I want from you.¡¯

    The dagger was returned to its spot on the desk as Illiath gave the old lord her full attention.

    ¡®You are going to take this blade, and plant it somewhere for me, without being spotted.¡¯

    ¡®Plant it where?¡¯

    Belphegor leant onto the desk, resting its chin on its interlocked fingers.

    ¡®In the body of the Hive queen.¡¯

    Silence gripped the room. Though Miz-Mag could not gather the significance of the request, the little fiend knew it must have been quite the ask. Illiath was sitting stock still, eyes darting between the knife and Belphegor.

    ¡®That won¡¯t be easy. Even for me.¡¯

    ¡®I know. That is why, if you succeed, the governorship of this district will be yours.¡¯

    Moments passed in tense silence, the room waiting for the red-eyed demon¡¯s answer. Illiath sat with a deep frown, glaring at the dagger as if it would provide her with the answers. Miz-Mag found the whole spectacle mildly amusing. If it could lift the dagger, the little demon could probably do the job for them without so much fuss. Eventually Illiath broke its silence, a smile creasing the cruel beauty of its face.

    ¡®Very well. The Hive queen will fall. Did you have a timeline.¡¯

    ¡®Soon as you can, would be best. Long as the old bug dies from the dagger, and you aren¡¯t spotted.¡¯

    Belphegor wrapped the blade and slid the bundle of across the table.

    ¡®Did you need a lift back to the spire?¡¯

    Illiath shook its horned head.

    ¡®No, I¡¯ll show myself out. There is planning to be done.¡¯

    ¡®As you wish. Good hunting, crescent born.¡¯

    Shadows draped across the young demon as it headed for the door, blending its body into the surrounds. Anima did not seem to have too much trouble tracking the veiled figure, opening and closing the door for Lillith¡¯s heir. Miz-Mag watched the larger fiend leave without much interest, its thoughts instead on the urchins. This was the second time the strange city dwellers had come up. Not only that but a group of urchins had infiltrated the spire, or at least tried to.

    ¡®Thoughts, my dear?¡¯

    Now that the backroom deal had been struck, the old demon had its clawed feet kicked up on the desk. Anima turned her thoughtful eyes from the door and towards her master.

    ¡®Hard to say, they¡¯ll give it a go though. Ambition is not lacking in that one.¡¯

    Belphegor gave the table an affectionate pat and waved a hand at the vacated chair. The woman walked over to take a seat, passing beneath the screaming human skull of the monster as she did. Its head was easily four times larger than the Miz-Mag¡¯s entire body.

    ¡®But of course, ambition is useful as long as it is well directed.¡¯

    Anima gave a soft sigh as she settled into the chair.

    ¡®You must be wary of that one though, I am next to certain Illiath orchestrated the Gunman¡¯s breakout. While reviewing the footage I noticed suspicious periods of excessive calm, no random movement or noise. It aligns to noted records of their abilities.¡¯

    Belphegor barked a small laugh.

    ¡®The nerve. We will need to keep an eye out in future, it appears I underestimated how much of Lillith was in the twerp.¡¯

    ¡®And retaliation?¡¯

    ¡®Let Illiath know that we know, but don¡¯t go public with it. Besides, that little enigma got far further than he should have, he definitely had a plan going in. Did the camera feeds turn up anything?¡¯

    Anima produced a tablet and began tapping along its surface.

    ¡®You know how it is with the Gunman and electronic video, though I did notice something strange during the escape.¡¯

    Anima located and video and began to play it, she maxed out the volume and swung the device around to face the old lord. Miz-Mag craned its matchstick neck to catch the show. While Mickie had blasted his way into the control room, his companion had taken some liberties with the surveillance footage. Random chunks were deleted alongside important snippets of discussion disguised as Mickie¡¯s lonesome ramblings. Yet try as it might the little demon could not locate any feeds for the control room itself.

    At the time it had concluded that there was no surveillance in the room, though the video on the tablet now proved Miz-Mag wrong. Under the glowing light of numerous screens sat the guard, bored and with drooping eyelids. The splash of blood and sudden screams from the demon were abrupt and brought a crease to Belphegor¡¯s brow. Miz-Mag¡¯s golden eyes traced the empty space in the video, where it had landed and started on the controls to Mickie¡¯s cell, before switching to clear the various video feeds. Soon after, the door to the room exploded inward, and another unseen actor stepped onto the stage. Belphegor¡¯s eyes narrowed, flicking up to Anima, who gave the old lord a confirming nod.

    ¡®Pop¡¯em open.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s voice, grainy and distorted, came through the tablet¡¯s speaker, and Miz-Mag winced as the controls to the prison began to shift and cycle seemingly of their own accord. Anima paused the video and gave her master an expectant look. Belphegor was stroking its goatee pensively, lost in thought for a handful of seconds.

    ¡®The reports of the mortal talking to himself, do we have any recordings?¡¯

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Anima straightened in her chair.

    ¡®After reviewing this footage, I attempted to track them down. However, someone cleared large swaths of the Gunman¡¯s feed, moments outside of Illiath¡¯s little visits.¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps during that very escape?¡¯

    ¡®That would be my guess.¡¯

    The emerald eyed lord leant back into his chair, looking at the hanging skeleton as if the bones somehow held the answers it sought.

    ¡®Ah, how I hunger for answers! It is a shame he proved to be more trouble than he was worth.¡¯

    ¡®Even though he was induced to escape?¡¯

    Belphegor gave his slave an inquiring look.

    ¡®Well, it¡¯s clear that without Illiath the Gunman would not have made that attempt at escape when he did. To be sure he would have tried eventually, but not for some time. It could be that a different tactic may work where the pits failed, honey instead of vinegar?¡¯

    ¡®You mean we undo the gorgon¡¯s gaze?¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave a little gasp of excitement. So, its partner could be healed.

    ¡®Yes, it is costly, I know, but still within your means.¡¯

    Belphegor gave the proposal some thought, but eventually gave a slow shake of its head.

    ¡®No, as much as I would love to solve that puzzle, the risk of letting something marked by the Soul Lord escape is too great. I do not fault you my dear, it was before your time. But that abyss born upstart was a nightmare to all things planned and ordered. You saw how much chaos the Gunman caused, I cannot risk my plans to satiate mere curiosity.¡¯

    Even someone as inept at reading humans as Miz-Mag could see Anima¡¯s desire to protest. Seeing that her master¡¯s mind was made up however, the woman bit back her arguments and simply nodded an acknowledgement.

    ¡®Good, now as for the Hive. Once our little Lillith in the making clears¡­¡¯

    Miz-Mag zoned out the conversation, fixated instead upon the fact that it was possible to cure Mickie. It was frustrating that the two schemers had discussed the possibility and not the means, but that was not something it could change. Better to take the information and roll with it, track down the solution elsewhere. The little spy fixed eager eyes upon Anima¡¯s tablet, still resting atop the desk. Perhaps the woman had done her research.

    No, the demon tore its eyes away. It was too risky. These two already suspected something after the video of the control room, and Miz-Mag did not want to give them any more hints. So, the demon waited with a measure of impotent impatience as the room¡¯s occupants laid out further plans. If it had at all been interested in the city politics, Miz-Mag might have been entranced by the value of the information. However, all it wanted was get started on fixing Mickie and leaving this city behind for good. Eventually the conversation concluded, and Anima stood from her seat.

    ¡®By the blood, finally.¡¯

    The draw of Miz-Mag¡¯s bond with Mickie was random at best, and the little fiend wanted to get some exploration done before it was dragged all the way back to the spire. Unsure of where to begin, it had decided to go along with Anima, maybe try and get ahold of her tablet. They returned to the flyer and set off across the city, not rising towards the spire¡¯s top but flying low towards the wonky towers beneath it.

    Miz-Mag¡¯s unknowing escort set them down upon a nondescript building, easing them into the corner of a broad balcony rather than a rooftop. Swiping an access pass the duo entered the office and followed a hall. To either side of the walkway mortals and demons alike were glued to large desks in open plan seating. They tapped away at keyboards as data streamed along six screens hanging from the ceiling. It was like a hybrid mix of the drudgery in Administration and the overstimulation of the displays in the prison control room.

    Glass panels separated them from the busy workers, but even so the noise was tremendous. Shouts, curses, and calls of every emotion. Some at other staff and some at nothing at all. The overall effect was like a beehive, if all the bees were juiced to the antenna on caffeine and given the ability to speak.

    Anima made her way through the building with a surety that leant itself to familiarity. Taking a few turns she reached a small room of hazy glass walls. The mortal did not bother knocking, hardly slowing to shove open the swinging doors and enter the private office. Inside a pale and spindly demon started in surprise, seeing Anima and muttering a few words into an earpiece before hanging up. The creature was all taught skin and long bone, fingers with too many joints flexed on a keyboard while milky bulbous eyes narrowed at the intrusive guest.

    ¡®Anima, always a pleasure to have some of your station stop by.¡¯

    The voice was sibilant and sarcastic, conveying a displeasure at the human¡¯s presence.

    ¡®Manguell, still eating babies?¡¯

    There was clearly no love lost between the pair.

    ¡®No, I don¡¯t feel the need, not when your visits leave me so, satiated.¡¯

    Hatred and desire mingle in the creepy demon¡¯s words, spat like venom at Anima.

    ¡®Well, we shall see if you have earned your fill. Do you find what I requested?¡¯

    Manguell stretch an arm to one side, sliding open a desk draw and rifling through the contents, all while glaring at its guest. Miz-Mag tilted its head, curious as to what this exchange entailed. Yet its interest was curbed by a growing tension, like something was grasping at its insides, pulling it back to Mickie.

    ¡®Not now. I want to see what that¡¯s about!¡¯

    The bond was pulling at the fiend, calling it to the restful limbo, the place where Miz-Mag was both awake and asleep.

    ¡®Delivery is already made. Pulled straight from fifth, no record in the system.¡¯

    Removing an envelope from the drawer, Manguell placed it before Anima. The woman swiped the thin sleeve and glanced at its contents. Miz-Mag tried to get a look but only saw a table with some numbers before the folder was tucked away.

    ¡®Good. I¡¯ll send someone soon for pickup, have staff waiting.¡¯

    Manguell looked like it had just swallowed a razorblade.

    ¡®You want me to keep someone stationed there? Constantly?¡¯

    Anima gave the demon a cold smile. Miz-Mag winced as the grip on its insides tightened, the call to return becoming difficult to resist. It still needed to get a hold of the mortal¡¯s tablet.

    ¡®It will not be long, like I said, someone will be by soon.¡¯

    Manguell might not like what it is being served, yet the spindly fiend chewed and swallowed it all the same.

    ¡®Very, well. My payment?¡¯

    The woman reached into her pocket to remove a small clay jar, ringed by runes. It seemed like nothing special to Miz-Mag, but Manguell¡¯s eyes latched onto it like a man seeing water in the desert. Anima gave the little container a shake, sloshing its contents before tossing it across the desk. The jar disappeared in a blur of unnerving movement.

    ¡®Remember what I said. Have someone waiting.¡¯

    Anima did not wait for a response before turning to leave. The office beyond was the same busy mess as before, and Miz-Mag used the clamour to shift inside its unwitting carrier¡¯s jacket. Worming into a large pocket holding both the tablet and folder the fiend poked about until it woke the screen. Eager, Miz-Mag swiped to gain access, only to curse as a password input screen popped up. So much for that.

    Eyes aching, stomach churning, the demon resisted the call and turned its attention to the folder. The call had shifted to a powerful drag now, and Miz-Mag could not hold on any longer. It tried to open the envelope, to peek inside, but was overcome by a sensation like falling into a waterfall, and Miz-Mag was whisked away by the torrent.

    <hr>

    The next time Miz-Mag awoke it did not have any company. The grand hall was silent as the grave, and the fiend did not feel the need to hang around with Mickie¡¯s stony form. Having received a good lead, the demon instead made its way to a small administrative block it had uncovered during its periods of exploration.

    A small room, it fit the criteria of having both a device the demon could use, and being vacant for convenient stretches of time. Unlike many doors in the spire, the access to this room was not flush with the floor. Instead, it had been poorly hung from the frame, leaving a gap through which Miz-Mag could squeeze to gain access. The interior was a grimy space occupied by a few desks and an ugly demon. The oversized fleshy ball of a creature was snoring loudly on a chair far too small for its ponderous frame.

    ¡®Perfect.¡¯

    Clambering on to the snoozing worker¡¯s desk Miz-Mag paused the video it had been watching and opened up a browser. A pair of headphones nearby ceased their dull murmur, the change not sharp enough to wake their owner. First on the research docket was a cure for the stony state of its companion. Searching the city¡¯s browser for reported cures turned up very little of value. The arena¡¯s champion was apparently a bit of a celebrity, and while there were reports on the gorgon¡¯s fights and victims, there was only speculation on a cure.

    Switching tact, the fiend tap danced in a search for urchins, and was immediately inundated with information. News articles, security services, even an advertisement for ¡®urchin repelling cream¡¯, whatever that meant. Apparently, the urchins were an ongoing nuisance that spread through all corners of the city. Secretive and sly human slave escapees that stole, mugged, and straight up murdered the general populace. In other words, the kind of criminal syndicate who might know how to cure its companion.

    It was a bit of a leap in logic, but Miz-Mag was growing irritated with the computer¡¯s ongoing inability to give him a decent lead. Besides, it was not like Mickie was going to go anywhere in the meantime. Clearing its search history, the fiend opened the snoring demon¡¯s video and clicked play before leaping from the desk. Now it just needed a convenient way out of the spire.

    Sometime later Miz-Mag found itself standing at the opening of a large hangar, looking warily out at the drop to the city below. While not inducing the same sense of vertigo as glance into the abyss below the palace, it was still an impressive fall. Miz-Mag had always been able to jump from heights orders of magnitude greater than itself. Being small came with the benefit of being light, that combined with its demonic physique meant it could handle the proportionately large falls. This drop though, was not one it wanted to risk without a little help.

    Beside the demon was a bundle of fabric, a balled-up prisoner¡¯s shirt it had uncovered while investigating an old storage room. The hangar was silent and empty beyond some parked flying devices, which meant no one would notice the incongruous clothing. Gathering what little courage it could, Miz-Mag began to flatten the shirt out. It was bolstered by the thought that this was the kind of plan that Mickie would come up with, and somehow, they usually turned out okay. Even if things went horribly wrong it could always vanish before hitting the ground.

    Parachute ready, the diminutive demon got into position. Clawed feet curled into the fabric at one end while slightly shaking hands gripped the other. Ready for take-off. Miz-Mag waddled up to the edge, a light breeze buffeting it and making the shirt flap. A long moment passed. Then another.

    ¡®Maybe I should just find an elevator.¡¯

    Deciding that speed was perhaps not so vital, the little dare devil turned from the edge. Just as it did however, the gentle breeze picked up in a sudden gust of warm air. The wind filled the makeshift parachute and pulled Miz-Mag off balance. There was a terrifying moment in which the hangar tilted as the fabric yanked the demon back. Then its stomach hit is throat as air began to rush past and Miz-Mag fell from the spire.

    Facing the wrong direction, the shirt tangled with its body. The fiend wrestled with the fabric as it tumbled, unable to even see the approaching ground. Rolling and shoving, the roaring air suddenly caught its parachute and yanked Miz-Mag around as it ballooned behind the demon. The force was sudden and hard enough that it yanked the shirt from one of his hands.

    Suddenly able to see the approaching ground, it was with terror that the fiend grasped behind itself for the flapping fabric. Screaming, Miz-Mag¡¯s sharp fingers got a hold just as it was contemplating vanishing, arresting its fall with a stomach-churning lurch. It was just I time too, as the thrill-seeking fiend drifted between two towers and towards a broad street. Alighting on the road, Miz-Mag half coughed, half laughed its way to the sidewalk, knees wobbly from the stress and the landing.

    ¡®D-damned kid better appreciate this.¡¯

    Miz-Mag had expected to follow the path Mickie had made during their first flight through the city, but failed to locate any familiar side streets. Figuring if they had stumbled upon an entrance once, it was surely possible to do so again, the demon set off into the maze of alleys.

    As it turned out, secret entrances into the underbelly of a demonic city were not all that easy to find. After a frustration few hours wandering through the twisted maze of towers the familiar pull of its bond with Mickie began to draw the demon back to the spire. Without making any progress towards finding an urchin den, Miz-Mag was pulled into the dark.

    The next waking attempt was spent trying to catch an elevator down to the base of the spire. Without a pass Miz-Mag was forced to wait by the doors of the lift until someone used them. Except for some reason the spire¡¯s blighted staff rarely did. The few times Miz-Mag managed to sneak aboard, their only destination was another level of the spire. Frustrated, the demon realised it probably had to do with the strange shift changes. The periods when demons and mortals alike left their stations to flood the halls and head home, or whatever they had that served the purpose. Unless Miz-Mag chanced upon one of these busy rushes, it would be difficult to catch someone leaving the building.

    Having its elevator planned foiled, the unseen fiend returned to its tried and terrible parachute strategy. Prepared this time around, the fall was much more tolerable, Miz-Mag even managing to control its decent and land in another part of the city. Buoyed by its success, the demon set to searching with gusto, but not much success. It was hours later, when Miz-Mag finally struck it lucky for the first time.

    A sudden shift change saw the demon clambering up the side of a building to avoid being crushed by the sea of workers. As the flow abated, something caught its golden eye. A small, hunched figure flittered expertly through the easing bustle, brushing against harried staff. Curious, Miz-Mag followed the little oddity, attempting to catch a glimpse of a face beneath the voluminous cloak it wore. The figure wound around a corner and came to a stop in the shadow of some pipework. Standing on the ledge above, Miz-Mag laughed in delight before jumping feet first towards its quarry.

    Usually, the denizens of hell did not feel the little demon when it contacted them. It took concerted effort on Miz-Mag¡¯s part to have something notice its presence. Whatever this creature was however, it appeared to be the exception to the rule. The fiend had barely grabbed hold of the cloak before its quarry shot off like a rocket. It must have mistaken the contact as the grasping hands of some silent authority, because Miz-Mag caught the glimpse of eyes as it checked for pursuers.

    Eventually they came to a stop, long after the alleys had returned to their usual silence. Miz-Mag took the chance to haul itself onto the suspicious sneak¡¯s shoulder, watching in curiosity as it double back. They took a number of turns in quick succession before coming to a stop in the middle of a nondescript alley. Miz-Mag¡¯s ride moved to a bulky machine and pulled a panel from it with deft fingers. A small crawl space was revealed as the covering came free, leading to a drop into darkness.

    ¡®Welp, glad I found you, no way I would have spotted this on my lonesome.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave his little friend a happy pat on the shoulder, only for the urchin to stiffen at the touch.

    ¡®Sensitive little bugger, aren¡¯t you?¡¯

    After a surreptitious glance about the cloaked sneak slid into the machine shell and pulled the panel closed behind them. Only after sliding into the crawl space and making a confusing number of turns in the dark did they pause for a break. There was a scuffle and light bloomed out from a circular orb, illuminating a grimy room that looked as if it had been carved from rock. The urchin shuffled to their narrow entrance and shoved a large chunk of stone into the hole. It was only then that Miz-Mag¡¯s sneaky friend let out a gentle sigh and relaxed.

    Small hands reached up to the hood and pulled it back to reveal a tangle of red hair and a face that was far too rounded for a normal human. Miz-Mag tilted its head in confusion, it was a mortal, that was for sure, but unlike any the fiend had encountered before. Smaller and softer, but with eyes that held a heaviness only decades in the nine circles could impart. The demon started as it realised this was a human child, at least in body if not spirit. It had heard of them in its time at the palace, younger and squishier than the crusty old ones. Miz-Mag had figured up until this point that was what Mickie was, the kid had looked younger than the others in the palace.

    ¡®Milo? That you?¡¯

    The voice came from the other side of the room, echoing out of a broader passage than the one through which they entered.

    ¡®Yeah Vic, it¡¯s me.¡¯

    Another small human poked its head out of the tunnel, this one with darker skin and longer hair, but the same soft features.

    ¡®I thought you weren¡¯t due back for another couple hours?¡¯

    ¡®I wasn¡¯t. Ran into something weird up top.¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s urchin, Milo, moved over to its buddy with the light in hand, and they set off down the passage.

    ¡®Weird in what way?¡¯

    ¡®Kind of a feeling, I guess? Like I was being watched. I ducked out of sight but then it felt as if something tried to grab me, so I bolted.¡¯

    Vic gave its friend a worried look.

    ¡®So¡­¡¯

    ¡®So?¡¯

    The small human huffed.

    ¡®So, what was it? You¡¯ve got good instinct for these thing Milo, if you think there was something then there probably was.¡¯

    Milo shrugged, bucking Miz-Mag slightly on its shoulder perch.

    ¡®Didn¡¯t see a thing. Was weird, and spooked me enough that I decided to head home. It¡¯s odd though.¡¯

    The red-haired mortal paused dramatically, receiving an irritated look from its companion.

    ¡®Even now I still feel like I¡¯m being watched.¡¯

    Vic¡¯s eyes went wide, until the urchin saw the grin on its friend¡¯s face, then the kid¡¯s nose scrunched in annoyance. Miz-Mag cackled alongside Milo.

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry Vic, it¡¯s probably nothing.¡¯

    ¡®Hoh boy, if only you kids knew.¡¯

    They followed a path through a web of tunnels, the material of their surrounds changing from carved rock, to steel, to hollowed concrete. The two children seemed to know exactly where they were headed, and Miz-Mag was only too happy to tag along. Eventually another young voice rang out from the dark.

    ¡®Halt. State your name and purpose.¡¯

    Vic stepped forward.

    ¡®Scout Master Victoria and Ghost Milo. Return code alpha-one-four-nine-epsilon, returning for an early report.¡¯

    There was a period of silence at the end of the passage before a light sputtered to life, revealing yet another human child.

    ¡®Vic! Milo! Come on up. Sestus is in, you can make your report directly to it.¡¯

    ¡®Sestus? Really?¡¯

    The two urchin¡¯s seemed excited and a little anxious by the news as they hurried down the passage.

    ¡®Yep. Boss was doing the rounds and checking in at each of the lower city hubs, it¡¯ll be happy to see you.¡¯

    They bustled into a complex of large rooms. All about there were human children hurrying to complete countless tasks, like ants in a nest. As they called greetings to the demon¡¯s group, it mused over the appearance of these miniature mortals. Miz-Mag knew, of course, that humans had gender differences in the same way some demons did. It had even learnt to distinguish between the two during its century locked away in the palace. However, these children were closer to the androgyny that Miz-Mag, and so much of hell, possessed. It made the fiend feel strangely at home, amongst these strange and small mortals.

    Eventually their group came to a closed door, their guide stepping forward to knock and recite a passphrase. The barrier slid open to reveal a room far quieter than the rest of the base, softly lit by ceiling lights. A large table was positioned at the centre of the space, drowned in stacks of paper held down by the occasion electronic tablet. A figure no larger than the children stood with its back to them, sleek golden skin tight about a frame of corded muscle. The demon had three forked tails that twisted and lashed as it read from an untidy collection of pages. Hands that were uncharacteristically gentle set the stack back amongst its brethren as the door slid shut behind them.

    ¡®Vic, Milo, welcome back. It¡¯s a bit early for you, so I¡¯m guessing something happened?¡¯

    The golden fiend turned towards them, and Miz-Mag began to feel that something was terribly wrong. It was as if the world itself had turned its eye upon the little demon, piercing the veil that shrouded it. It could have fled, could have vanished back to Mickie¡¯s side, but at that moment Miz-Mag was a mouse before a lion, frozen and quivering.

    ¡®Oh, and you¡¯ve brought a guest. Who might you be, little one?¡¯

    Rows of razor teeth in a disturbingly broad mouth, a slitted serpent¡¯s nose, and crystalline eyes, backlit by an amorphous dark flame. As the Palace Lord once had during its first escape attempt, this demon now saw the unseeable red fiend. Miz-Mag gulped nervously; perhaps coming here had been a bad idea.

    <hr>

    Mickie was locked in the veil between dreams and consciousness, tumbling along in a confusing mess of sensation without context. One moment he would be at the estate in his youth, fingers trailing grapevines as he discussed nonsense with his mother. Then the vegetation would disappear, leaving a swathe of wavy grass and a vaguely familiar woman. She looked at him with fervent adoration, belly swollen with the curve of a child.

    Then the world would dissipate, and he would tumble into himself, falling deep until he came before a gently glowing mass of power. The space beyond was bound, locked in a cage of slithering stone. It was, Mickie had come to realise, his soul. The prison into which he had been cast when he made the mistake of looking into the gorgon¡¯s eyes. As he did every time he found himself within this place, Mickie reached out to the power, attempting to call on it, to shift the shackles that bound him. The orb rippled and shifted with his desires, but always refused to take a useful form.

    In the end, the dreams would call him back and he wall fall through fog. The scenes were familiar, yet always became twisted. He would be standing before Mammon, the giant chained and silent, then the old demon would be screaming in fury as someone laughed in glee. The monstrous form of the Palace Lord would hang from the Mechanist¡¯s tentacles, before shifting to a strange room, lifeless and whole, except for the crystal orb in Mickie¡¯s hand.

    If time had been difficult to perceive in the depths of the arena, it was all but impossible within the prison of his soul. Logical thought was difficult, action instead driven by instinct and emotion; the desire to escape, the anger at the writhing stone that bound him, the fear of being caged here for eternity. Eventually a new dream disrupted the endless cycle, one distinct for the clarity of its conveyance.

    Mickie walked upon the icy expanse of the white wastes, along the surface of a frozen lake. All about him were the still forms of bodies, locked in the ice. Occasionally a head would peek above the surface, mouths moaning in dreary agony. Together the voices created a haunted choir, a ceaseless refrain of suffering and torment. Beside him stood a tall figure, pale skinned with eyes like the abyss. Dark hair swam softly behind his eerie companion as they approaching a hulking form locked at the lake¡¯s centre.

    Pillars of steel supported monstrous chains, frozen under the surface. Hooked spikes dug into the massive prisoner¡¯s flesh, tethering it to its icy cage. Human in appearance, a handsome man with dark hair and roman features. Black feathered wings were locked in the ice, partway outstretched behind the demon¡¯s body, as if it were even now trying to take flight.

    ¡®Big L, why it is good to see you.¡¯

    Mickie said, voice strange and tickled with amusement.

    ¡®Magareem, you¡¯re as snarky as ever, and I see you brought a friend.¡¯

    The bound giant¡¯s voice was like a smooth whisky, strong and smoky.

    ¡®Oh, more than a friend, might I introduce Mizaraphel, the most graceful angel to have ever touched our sunken circles.¡¯

    ¡®You are fallen?¡¯

    The prisoner¡¯s eyes narrowed as it took in the ethereal figure standing beside Mickie.

    ¡®Fallen.¡¯

    His companion spoke the word with distaste, voice soft yet sharp as a razor.

    ¡®I am not fallen.¡¯

    A deep chuckle shook the ice.

    ¡®Of course you aren¡¯t.¡¯

    ¡®I was cast down, I was betrayed.¡¯

    Anger coloured Mizaraphel¡¯s retort.

    ¡®Come on Lucy, stop trying to drag my holy friend down into your muck. Aren¡¯t you curious as to why we¡¯ve come for a visit?¡¯

    The ancient ruler of hell turned its eyes to Mickie.

    ¡®What, you aren¡¯t here just to mock me?¡¯

    A voice that was and wasn¡¯t his own gave a sinister chuckle.

    ¡®Oh no, my lord. We¡¯re here to find out what lies beneath the ice.¡¯

    Mickie was abruptly pulled from the vivid dreamscape, dragged through a kaleidoscopic mess of images and sounds. The frozen giant roared in rage as the lake cracked and fractured, Mickie was pulled away by Mizaraphel, floating high as the ice fell. Then the abyss. Absolute void split with lines so bright they made his soul tremble. Unfathomable and unknowable.

    He fell into his soul space, relieved to be free of the dream and the impossible darkness below the palace. It took time for the disorientation to clear and for Mickie to realise something was different. Beyond the vague disconnect of his current existence there was something new, yet familiar. Pain, felt in a place where he had no nerves to tweak, no receptors to fire.

    Not only that, but the stone serpents binding the cocoon of his soul were no longer alone. Something had joined them, something red and sinister. It did not bind him, as the gorgon had, but felt at the boundary of his soul, taping at the glass like a curious child. A spine jutted out of the red to slam against his outer shell, sending a spike of agony through him.

    Then the real torment got underway. An orchestra of blades against the chalkboard of his core, pain out of body, beyond physical. The red mass scratched and tore at the outside of his soul, unable to get in, yet desperately trying to. Mickie was so lost in the haze of pain that he failed to notice when the stone binding him was caught up in the scourge. When physical sensation began to return, he did not realise until a voice began screaming in his ear.

    ¡®Kid! Kid! You gotta take it off! Kid!¡¯

    Cool air against his skin, scratching against his scalp, the taste of chalk on his tongue. Mickie fell to his knees, taking a gasping breath as his eyes fluttered open. He was in a familiar hall, surrounded by the countless other victims of the gorgon¡¯s gaze. Yet he was also in his soul, surrounded by pulsating red fury as agony ravaged him in a place that should feel no pain.

    ¡®Take it off! Come on, you stinkin¡¯ idiot.¡¯

    Something was stinging his eyes, he reached a hand up and it came back red. His head itched as he glanced about in a fugue, there was something scratching his hair, cutting the skin beneath. Mickie reached up and felt thorns spike his fingers. Grasping the object, he pulled it from his scalp and tossed it to the floor. Abruptly, the red mass striking his soul puffed away, leaving him shaken, but free of pain. Slowly, Mickie turned to meet the wide eyes of a tiny demon.

    ¡®Holy shit.¡¯

    Miz-Mag said, and let loose an uproarious cackle.

 16 â€“ Serpent and Spire

    Mickie glanced at his demonic partner, hunched on hands and knees as he was, the red fiend was almost level with him. Miz-Mag finished its laugh and went to speak further but was cut off as the groggy mortal retched onto the tiled floor. The pain might be gone, but he felt wrong, like something had twisted his insides. His last clear memories were of the fight, the gorgon¡¯s eyes, its claws punching through his check to tear at his gums. Gingerly Mickie held a hand to his face, only to find the skin smooth and unblemished.

    ¡®By the blood kid, take it easy!¡¯

    His partner danced away from the mess, suddenly reproachful. Mickie swallowed hard, fingers digging into the floor as he shook off the effects of that strange attack. Only now that he had regained full use of his faculties did he realise that the assault on his soul had been what turned him back to flesh and blood. Dazed, he turned his head towards Miz-Mag.

    ¡®What was that?¡¯

    The little fiend gave a short barking squeak of a laugh and shrugged.

    ¡®Honestly kid, I don¡¯t have a clue. Not part of the plan at the very least.¡¯

    ¡®The plan?¡¯

    His question was a reflex response, body shifting to autopilot as his head swirled with the confusion of returning sensation. Thoughts of the dreams he had experienced, the time he had been locked up as stone, the question of how he was even alive. It was all a twisted mess, taking up his metal space and proving difficult to dislodge. Mickie did not press Miz-Mag when the demon failed to respond. Instead, he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. For now, what he needed was to regain control, quell the confusion and the panic.

    The storm in his head calmed, and Mickie pushed aside the less pressing issues. He was alive, he was in the statue hall of the spire, and he needed to get moving before something stumbled in and discovered him. Before he could leave however, there was the matter of his reawakening. Mickie opened his eyes, glancing about until he discovered the item he so recently ripped from his head. It was a large wreath of inky black thorns, tipped with the red of his blood. Touching a hand to his hair coated his fingers in blood, though the wounds themselves seemed to be healing fast enough.

    ¡®What is that thing?¡¯

    Mickie asked as Miz-Mag picked its way around the bile puddle towards the thorny crown.

    ¡®Not sure. Just popped back in to find it on your head. Knew something was weird with it once I saw you were bleeding though.¡¯

    Mickie ran his eyes over the sharp thorns.

    ¡®How would that be weird?¡¯

    His partner came to a stop a respectable distance from the wreath.

    ¡®Because you were still stone at the time. Statues don¡¯t normally bleed. Tried to get it off you, but the moment I touched the thing¡­¡¯

    Miz-Mag shuddered at the memory, and Mickie understood the sentiment. If he never felt the grind of that red mass against his soul again it would be too soon. While the question of the wreath was one for which he wanted answers, it was not the most pressing problem the duo faced. Rising to his feet, Mickie glanced about the hall, locating a stone warrior with a frayed looking tunic. He walked over and began to tear the covering from the marble body.

    ¡®Mag, you mentioned a plan, do you have one?¡¯

    The little demon scampered over and clambered up to his shoulder.

    ¡®Yeah, I got one. Been cooking up a way to get you out with a pal of mine. This was not exactly how we intended it to go.¡¯

    Pal? Yet another question that would have to wait. He got the fabric free and turned back towards the thorn wreath.

    ¡®So, I wasn¡¯t meant to turn back?¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave him an annoyed flick to the ear.

    ¡®Obviously you were, just not yet. Wanted to get you someplace safe first.¡¯

    They reached the thorny wreath and Mickie made to drape the fabric over it when something caught his eye. A strip of white amongst the dark. Using leather to grip the dark spines, he carefully lifted the deadly crown, revealing a strip of cloth tied to the twisted wood. Ink darkened fabric, spelling out a few words in Latin.

    ¡®Ex sanguine et vitibus natus. Born of blood and vine. The hell does that mean?¡¯

    While the phrase confused Miz-Mag, the words struck Mickie like a thunderbolt. He stiffened slightly, then coughed to hide his surprise.

    ¡®I didn¡¯t know you could speak Latin.¡¯

    If Miz-Mag noticed his reaction, the small demon did not comment as it puffed out its chest.

    ¡®I¡¯m over a century old, I know a lot of things. Now are we going to stop mucking about and get moving?¡¯

    With another surreptitious glance at the slice of fabric Mickie covered the wreath in cloth and bound it leather. Hopefully that would be enough to stop any of the spines from poking through. He stashed the bundle in an inside pocket of his jacket.

    ¡®Well, now that¡¯s done, I¡¯d say it¡¯s time we hit the road. I¡¯ve had to make some alterations on the fly, and it won¡¯t be easy¡­¡¯

    Miz-Mag trailed off as it realised Mickie had stopped listening. The mortal¡¯s attention had drifted to the end of the hall, settling on a large set of barred doors.

    ¡®Come on kid. Focus up. You want to get out of here or not?¡¯

    Of course, Mickie wanted to leave. Yet he paused, held still by the memory of his last escape. While the writing on the wreath made him almost certain this was not a trap, he was still unsure of their chances. Even if they made it out of the spire there was still the rest of the city, through which he had no doubts they would be hunted like rats in a grain silo.

    Belphegor and Illiath had both demonstrated that there were demons outside his capacity to fight, and he would be in their territory the entire time. What they needed, Mickie concluded, was an ally. Someone strong, with goals that aligned to their own. A pair of eyes swam up from memory, open, driven, and angry.

    ¡®You¡¯ve explored this place, right? You know what¡¯s behind that big door?¡¯

    Mickie gestured to the barred threshold, receiving a dubious look from Miz-Mag.

    ¡®Sure, I¡¯ve been back there, but it¡¯s not somewhere we should be heading at the moment.¡¯

    ¡®Does it hold what I¡¯m thinking it does?¡¯

    Now his partner was really getting concerned.

    ¡®If you¡¯re thinking of the gorgon that turned you to stone, then you¡¯d be right. Look, kid, we really got to get moving.¡¯

    Mickie started walking, but not in the direction Miz-Mag wanted. The demon let lose a frustrated groan.

    ¡®Please don¡¯t. We need to go.¡¯

    ¡®And what? Get caught the moment we set foot in the city?¡¯

    His voice was tight with anger.

    ¡®Mag, Belphegor treated my capture like a game before feeding me to the wolves. Even with the brand, I was an ant to it. We can¡¯t escape alone. It¡¯s like the palace, we had the Kindle Kin there.¡¯

    They neared the door.

    ¡®Kid, we already have help. I mentioned my buddy before didn¡¯t I, they¡¯ve got some serious muscle.¡¯

    His partner paused briefly, hesitating.

    ¡®And they can see me too. Got eyes like the palace lord.¡¯

    That sounded supremely suspicious. Mickie came to a stop and turned his head, giving the demon a serious look.

    ¡®We¡¯ll leave this buddy of yours for later. For now, I just want you to answer one thing.¡¯

    Miz-Mag appeared to be about to speak, but upon meeting his eyes the fiend held its tongue.

    ¡®Do you know what this friend wants?¡¯

    His partner tilted its head slightly.

    ¡®Wants? It wants to help us, it¡¯s been helping me plan for your escape.¡¯

    ¡®No, that¡¯s what you want from it. I¡¯m talking about what it wants from you and I. There¡¯s a difference.¡¯

    For a creature so old, Miz-Mag was terrible at interpreting other beings. It was something Mickie had realised during their time together, a product of a creature unable to interact with others. One who got information by spying instead of interacting. Mickie had already been fooled once by Illiath, and was not keen to play into the hands of yet another power hungry fiend.

    ¡®This is hell Mag. When does anyone down here do anything without getting something in return? You saved me, but now I have to carry you around, the Kindle Kin helped us in the palace but also used us as bait for the Mechanist. The only person to actually help us pro bono was Aria, and look what happened to her. Do you get what I¡¯m saying?¡¯

    The little demon gave a slow nod.

    ¡®So, what does this friend of yours want then?¡¯

    ¡®I-I¡¯m not sure. I think it wants to meet you, never really bothered asking why.¡¯

    ¡®And that¡¯ Mickie said, ¡®is a problem.¡¯

    He laid his hands on the heavy bar across the doors and began to heave it aside. Gradually, it slid into a holding space, leaving the doors free to open.

    ¡®What we need, is an ally we actually understand, one who won¡¯t screw us over immediately.¡¯

    He set his hands against a band of metal and began to push, a path beyond forming with the creak of old hinges.

    ¡®I suppose you have a point kid, but why now? And why the gorgon?¡¯

    Both were fair questions. They were pushing their luck by not immediately fleeing, it was most likely just a matter of time until someone discovered his statue was not where it should be. Not only that, but the only time he had met the serpentine demon they had been locked in a deathmatch. Yet their fight was, in essence, the very reason why he made the call. Mickie had always found an honesty in the immediacy of violence, and in the moments before his flesh turned to stone he had seen something in the gorgon. An anger he was familiar with, one that he could trust. He stepped through the open door, heaving it shut behind them.

    ¡®I¡¯ve got a hunch.¡¯

    ¡®Are you kidding me! You give me that whole spiel and then say you¡¯re acting on a hunch.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m good with these kinds of things.¡¯

    His thoughts turned to Illiath.

    ¡®Most of the time anyway. I was right to trust Aria, wasn¡¯t I?¡¯

    It looked as if Miz-Mag wanted to argue further, but as the large door thudded shut behind them, the fiend realised there would be no changing his mind.

    ¡®Alright, but if you get stoned again, I¡¯m just gonna let you gather dust.¡¯

    The hall in which the duo found themselves was far grander than those of their old cell block. A single passage, lined with glowing gems and tiled with rough stone. Mickie covered the distance with urgent strides, soon coming to an opening next to a door set in the wall.

    ¡®Snake¡¯s in there.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gestured to the passage¡¯s end, then turned to the door.

    ¡®But control room¡¯s just here. At least I think it¡¯s the control room, haven¡¯t gotten in before.¡¯

    Mickie nodded slowly, stepping past the door and into the open chamber. Peeking about the wall he could not see any windows leading into the adjacent room, only stone stretching from floor to ceiling. It looked like the guards used cameras to watch the gorgon, probably an added measure to keep themselves safe. He thought briefly about breaking down the door but stopped himself. If they were using cameras, it meant they would be unable to see him, something that could be used to his advantage.

    The gorgon¡¯s cell was not difficult to find, positioned as it was in the centre of the circular chamber. It was large, the same steel box that had risen through the sands to deliver the demon to their fight. As had been the case in the arena, there was no opening to the cube, no gap through which the serpentine warrior could use its deadliest weapon. He had hoped they might be able to talk with the imprisoned fiend, maybe get her to lure the guards from their control room. It looked like that was not going to be an option.

    Returning to the door set into the wall, Mickie called forth his gun and readied himself. He would just have to return to the usual method. The door was blown inward with a single charged shot, and Mickie stormed into the room. Three imps turned wide eyes his way, one at the monitoring station and two playing a game with cards and knucklebones at a small table.

    ¡®Mag!¡¯

    Mickie held up a hand and his companion hopped into it. With a flick of the wrist, he launched the little demon at the imp manning the controls. While Miz-Mag screamed through the air Mickie turned to the remaining guards. They were pushing chairs back and attempting to rise. Far too slow.

    In moments the duo had secured the room, Miz-Mag ensuring no backup had been called by targeting the imp at the controls. Mickie stood from the silent body of the last guard, wiping its blood from his hands with the leg of his jeans. He turned to the display feeds above the control station. Images of the room outside were relegated to the corners, most screens taken up by an image of a chained prisoner.

    Unlike when the gorgon had arrived in the arena, there was no armour covering the bronze scales and dark skin. The same ragged prisoner¡¯s garb from the second portion of their fight was all the demon wore apart from its chains. He had almost expected the arena¡¯s champion to get some form of luxurious special treatment. Apparently, all its prowess in battle had earned was tighter security.

    Whereas he had been kept captive by a manacle on each wrist, Mickie counted five binding the serpentine warrior. Wrists, ankles, and most cruelly, its head. A tight helmet binding the gorgon from the nose up, chained to the floor by heavy, rune covered metal. The guards were relentless when it came to protection from those slitted eyes, so much so that it gave Mickie an idea. He glanced about and soon found a pair of cheap looking glasses on the desk, same as had been worn by the audience during the fight. It made sense that the guards would keep some additional protection handy.

    ¡®Alright.¡¯

    He slid the glasses on, they were small but would serve.

    ¡®Pop open the cage. Also, while you at it, unlock its head and legs. Better to keep the wrists secured though, just in case.¡¯

    Nothing happened for a few moments. Mickie turned a questioning eye to Miz-Mag, only to find the demon staring back, deadpan.

    ¡®Access codes? I did mention I never made it in here.¡¯

    ¡®Ah.¡¯

    Mickie glanced about the room, noticing one of the guards at the table stirring from its enforced slumber. He started towards it, hoping what came next would not take very long.

    <hr>

    It was, Mickie mused, a blessing and a curse to have a reputation again. It was something he had grown sick of when alive, something he had run from. Yet, it did open seemingly difficult doors with ease. When the guard had woken, it had recognised him from the arena, and been extremely confused as to why he was not a statue. After a good look at its companions, it had not been difficult to get the hell-spawn to spill what it knew. An interrogation that might have taken a dangerously long time was made easy, all because the fiend knew who he was, fearing the mortal and the mark he bore.

    With the access codes obtained Miz-Mag had been able to do as he asked, opening the box and unshackling the gorgon¡¯s head and legs. Mickie made his way out of the control room and towards the demon, undersized glasses guarding his soul. For her part the gorgon did not seem particularly deadly, looking about in disorientation as her eyes adjusted to the sudden light. They found Mickie as he approached and narrowed to a wary squint.

    He had been unsure if the glasses would work, and was relieved to find he could meet the slitted gaze of the gorgon without issue. It held none of the emotion it had at the end of their fight. All Mickie saw was the demon, glaring at him with suspicion, the blood red brand of a crescent standing in stark relief on her forehead.

    ¡®I remember you. The mortal from the arena, the one with the gun. How did you break the bindings?¡¯

    The gorgon spoke up as he came to a stop. Her voice was hard, cold as one might expect from such a proficient killer.

    ¡®Yeah, that¡¯s me. Almost blew your head off too.¡¯

    His tone was amiable, but not gentle.

    ¡®That was not an answer.¡¯

    ¡®No¡¯ Mickie said without affectation, ¡®it wasn¡¯t.¡¯

    They stared one another down. The mortal let the silence hang, waiting for the gorgon to speak.

    ¡®Why are you here?¡¯

    She asked the question as if it pained her, speaking through gritted teeth. It was likely the serpentine warrior thought he had come for revenge.

    ¡®I want to make a deal.¡¯

    He received a confused look, the answer taking the gorgon by surprise.

    ¡®A deal? Are you blind or something? Can¡¯t see I¡¯m already branded?¡¯

    ¡®Not a pact. No brands or binding. I mean a mutually beneficial exchange.¡¯

    There was a drawn moment of silence before the prisoner laughed. It was a short, sharp sound, over as soon as it started.

    ¡®Right. Of course. A gentlemen¡¯s agreement if you will. All cards on the table.¡¯

    Irritation spiked through Mickie, and he crouched down level with the warrior.

    ¡®Look. I want out of this arena, and I¡¯m going to go out on a limb here and say you do too.¡¯

    He paused, continuing when the gorgon failed to disagree.

    ¡®Now, I happen to be in the fortunate situation of having both the opportunity and means to escape. What I¡¯m lacking is the ability to turn anyone who gets in the way into art piece.¡¯

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    That caught the prisoner¡¯s interest, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

    ¡®How would you have the means to escape?¡¯

    ¡®It doesn¡¯t matter.¡¯

    ¡®I think it does.¡¯

    The retort was a sharp whipcrack, paired with an angry glare. Mickie did not reply, raising his eyebrows and waiting for the gorgon to continue.

    ¡®You come in here, start prattling on about some escape opportunity, and won¡¯t even elaborate as to what it is? How could this not be a trap?¡¯

    He could not elaborate because Miz-Mag had not actually told him the plan. Not that Mickie planned to explain that to his prospective ally.

    ¡®Why in the nine circles would this be a trap? What motive would I have for releasing you?¡¯

    ¡®How should I know, the assholes that run this death bucket do all kinds of weird shit. Politics, fun, it could be anything.¡¯

    The gorgon spat the words with a mix of disgust and malice. Slitted eyes traced his hand, settling upon the brand.

    ¡®And you have the mark of the Soul Lord, did you think I wouldn¡¯t notice.¡¯

    Mickie flexed his scarred hand, deciding that this current discussion was going nowhere.

    ¡®We both are marked; both have made deals. I did not make my deal with the Soul Lord, no matter what the brand might indicate.¡¯

    That received a confused frown but no retort.

    ¡®I¡¯m going to be breaking out of this prison. Come with me or stay and be a pet until someone stronger comes along.¡¯

    He stood and walked back towards the control room.

    ¡®Where are you going?¡¯

    The question was less aggressive, the prospect of a missed opportunity final cracking the gorgon¡¯s shell of suspicion.

    ¡®To prove a point.¡¯

    Mickie replied over his shoulder before striding through the warped security door. Miz-Mag waited on the desk, looking mildly panicked.

    ¡®What I tell you kid, a waste of time.¡¯

    ¡®Unlock the wrist shackles.¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    ¡®The gorgon¡¯s wrist restraints, unlock them.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gaped at him, then at the monitors containing the feed from the cell, then back at him. He had been expecting a burst of frustration, so was surprised when his companion suddenly laughed.

    ¡®Ah why not? Worst that can happen is that we¡¯re both statues for eternity.¡¯

    A short dance across the controls later and Mickie was heading back out to meet the scaled demon. She stood rubbing her wrists, uncertainty plain even through the tint of his glasses.

    ¡®There you go. Free either way. Now, you can choose to sit here and let them reattach your chains, try and bust out on your own, or pick the wisest choice, and help me escape.¡¯

    He stopped a small distance from the gorgon, wary of the speed at which she could move. When the bronze eyes met his thugh, Mickie finally saw the emotions he had been seeking. Hope, fear and suspicion, a mix he knew only too well.

    ¡®When we fought, just before the stone took you, you had your gun to my neck.¡¯

    It was not a question, but he answered all the same.

    ¡®Yeah, I remember.¡¯

    ¡®My abilities do not overcome immediately. There was a moment in which you could have killed me, I felt it, knew it was my end, yet you did not shoot. Why?¡¯

    This, Mickie felt, was an important question, not one he could brush off even though he might want to.

    ¡®There was a moment in the fight.¡¯

    He started.

    ¡®A moment when I realised. You¡¯re like me. Most of the fighters are little more than animals, it¡¯s what this place does to them. But not me, and not you.¡¯

    He held her gaze for a long moment before breaking the tension.

    ¡®And I mean, I was done for either way.¡¯

    A silence settled between them as the gorgon thought. When she eventually did look to Mickie, he knew the answer before it was even spoken.

    ¡®Alright. I¡¯ll help. We escape the prison then the city. Go our separate ways at the seventh circle. Agreed?¡¯

    He grinned.

    ¡®Agreed.¡¯

    <hr>

    The mortal and the gorgon made their way swiftly towards the exit of the oversized prison. Miz-Mag was waiting at the ready besides the door to the control room and scampered onto his shoulder.

    ¡®Well kid. I hope it¡¯s worth it.¡¯

    Mickie didn¡¯t respond, unwilling to explain why he seemed to be talking to himself to his new ally. Perhaps he would once they were out of the palace, but it was far too risky with all the hidden surveillance about.

    ¡®So,¡¯ the gorgon said ¡®what is this grand plan of yours? I¡¯m going to need something, or I¡¯ll just be a liability.¡¯

    It was a valid question, and honestly something Mickie should have gotten from Miz-Mag by now. He gave the little demon a questioning look, getting an eye roll as it began a rapid explanation.

    ¡®Well¡­¡¯

    He paused near the exit to the tunnel, pretending to be mulling over his words. Luckily his partner¡¯s plan was not complicated, and he had the outline in moments.

    ¡®We need to reach an abandoned hangar a few levels up. Once we get there a modified flyer will be waiting. One designed to pilot itself.¡¯

    A lie, but the best he could come up with on the spot. It would actually be Miz-Mag in the pilot¡¯s chair, apparently the little demon had been training to fly with its new friend.

    ¡®Then we head down to a district on the third tier to meet a contact, who will assist us with escaping the city.¡¯

    ¡®A self-flying vehicle?¡¯

    She sounded sceptical.

    ¡®I¡¯ve been assured it is both effective and swift.¡¯

    ¡®Right. And why aren¡¯t we just flying straight out of the city?¡¯

    A good point. Mickie paused in another false deliberation as Miz-Mag rapid fired the answer to him.

    ¡®Because the city is ringed by watchtowers manned by guards with flyers of their own. If we push too far out we¡¯ll be intercepted, it¡¯s better to lose them in the city first.¡¯

    The explanation appeared to have mollified the gorgon, though she still looked sceptical.

    ¡®Look, if you¡¯re not convinced just split from us when we step outside.¡¯

    He got an angry look.

    ¡®You know as well as I that my chances are best with you. It¡¯s just all the external help. A lot of this plan relies on factors outside our control.¡¯

    It was a point that irritated Mickie as well, though not that he would admit it. Plans tended to go awry even when he thought he controlled all the variables. Inviting outside influence was a recipe for chaos.

    ¡®That¡¯s true, but it¡¯s the best chance we have of making it out. I tried to escape on my own once and failed, it¡¯s what got me sent up against you. Remember, there¡¯s still the city to clear after this, we¡¯ll need the help.¡¯

    The gorgon did not seem satisfied but let the matter drop. Seeing the conversation was done, Mickie turned towards the closed doors of the prison. He wrapped a hand about a large handle and heaved one of the heavy slabs inwards, relieved to find the outside had not been resealed. Miz-Mag had told him while working open the gorgon¡¯s shackles that the control room probably had camera¡¯s linked to an external feed. The demon had doctored the footage inside the prison itself, but said they could still be given away if someone checked externally.

    When the door swung open without resistance Mickie took it as good sign that they were in the clear, at least for now. The trio stepped into the hall only to freeze in place. A small cluster of demons stood about the place where his statue had been, an official looking pair and three guards. As the band of would be escapees stepped into the light the entire group turned towards them. Eyes widened, but any shouts were cut off as the gorgon came to stand next to him. Demons turned white with fear, then paler still as skin hardened into stone.

    In moments all but one of the guards was a cowering statue. The survivor began to fumble at its jacket with eyes on the floor, trying to grab a radio. Mickie cursed and rushed the panicked fiend, gun forming in his hand. From a pocket the imp got hold of the device, pulling it out to shout down the line.

    ¡®This is Alimagus of patrol group theta-seven. We have¡­¡¯

    The voice was cutoff with a gunshot, the leopard head turning both the radio and guard into a broken mess. Mickie did not stop running, he made it to one of the stone guards and snagged a key pass. Then, for good measure, he took an extra from the more officious looking demons too. As the gorgon moved to catch up to them, he spoke softly to Miz-Mag.

    ¡®You good on directions?¡¯

    ¡®You know it kiddo.¡¯

    ¡®Alright.¡¯

    He turned to his new companion as she neared.

    ¡®Grab a rifle from one of these chaps. Then we¡¯ll need to run.¡¯

    A small serpent slithered from the gorgon¡¯s head, dangling across her face. The demon brushed it aside as she replied.

    ¡®Can¡¯t use a gun.¡¯

    Mickie gave her an incredulous look, receiving a shrug in response. Stashing that question away for later, he waved her on and they set off down a side passage, running as Miz-Mag shouted directions. It was only a few turns before an alarm began to thrum, a deep reverberating base that trembled through floor. A crackling voice soon followed the siren.

    ¡®Attention all personnel. There has been a breach in the containment of the Stone Eye. Lockdown will soon be engaged. All teams report to sector leads for deployment orders.¡¯

    No sooner did the voice finish up than the trio rounded a corner and stumbled into a pack of confused guards. Unlike the first group none of them were quick enough to avoid his new ally¡¯s deadly gaze, and soon all that remained was a group of startled statues. He and the gorgon picked their way through the stone cluster and towards a set of stairs.

    ¡®Be advised the Stone Eye is moving out of sub-level four.¡¯

    Rather than trickle through the hierarchy of enforcement this announcement was over the speakers, a warning to the general staff. It also made Mickie pause, midway up a step. Of course they would be tracking the gorgon over the video feeds. His new ally shot him an irritated look as his brain spat out a potential solution, as if it was ready made and just waiting for him to encounter the problem.

    ¡®Mag. You can feel my abilities. Will my jacket make her invisible?¡¯

    ¡®Huh?¡¯

    Miz-Mag seemed taken aback by the question while the gorgon was growing frantic.

    ¡®What are you on about? We need to run!¡¯

    ¡®Mag!¡¯

    He hissed urgently at the little fiend.

    ¡®Yeah, right, yeah. Maybe? I think?¡¯

    Good enough. As Mickie set off up the stairs Miz-Mag moved to his head while he pulled his jacket free. The serpentine warrior was relieved to be moving, but still looked to him with concern.

    ¡®This really isn¡¯t the time to be getting changed.¡¯

    He spoke over her.

    ¡®Look, it¡¯s hard to explain but I¡¯m invisible to digital sight. I think if you wear my jacket you might be too.¡¯

    Her expression shifted from concerned to slightly confused, yet a clawed hand still caught his protective layer when he tossed it over.

    ¡®Quickly. Before they hem us in.¡¯

    They reached their exit door just as the gorgon pulled her second arm into the sleeve. Immediately Mickie felt something, a tugging deep within, something his body inherently resisted. With a sensation akin to pricking a finger Mickie pushed through the resistance, and a trickle of power flowed from his soul.

    ¡®Strange, I definitely feel¡­ something.¡¯

    The gorgon eyed him briefly before turning back to the door. Mickie noticed with a twinge of amusement as he observed that the jacket was a tad too small on her broader frame.

    ¡®Alright. That should work. Let¡¯s move.¡¯

    They forced open the door only to be met by a shout to stand down followed by the clatter and hiss of a metallic object. Smoke poured from a cylinder on the ground and Mickie cursed. It could just be smoke to block the gorgon¡¯s eyeline, but if the guards had opted for something stronger, he could not afford to wait. Taking a deep breath Mickie ducked low, darted out from behind cover and scooped up the hissing projectile. Without even looking he sent the object down the stairs and rushed through the door.

    The cluster of demons beyond wore heavy gear and held large shields of reinforced plastic. Batons crackling with electricity were poking between the gaps, ready to subdue their wayward slave knight. As Mickie darted forward, he saw eyes widening behind large, tinted glasses, imps confused to see him. He realised, right before blasting a hole in their formation, that the guards did not know he was with the gorgon. They would have got the warning then checked their feeds, seeing only the Stone Eye and prepared accordingly.

    As a result, the formation was ready for the unarmed serpent they would have tracked on camera, and fell to pieces at his onslaught. A stun baton came at him from the side and Mickie grasped it, ripping it from a confused demon and jamming it into another. Then his new companion was behind him, clawed arm lifting a demon and bodily hurling it down the foggy stairs. She twisted back around with its sparking weapon and set into the surrounding fiends. These guards might have been heavily armoured, but their opponents had been forged by blood and sand. They were fury and speed, cleaving through the barricade before moving on, leaving only twitching and limp bodies behind.

    Miz-Mag took them through a winding series of turns, and Mickie was happy to find no guards manoeuvring into position before them. It appeared the trick with his jacket was working, though the demons running the show were probably clued into his presence at this point. The trio came to a stop before an innocuous section of wall as Miz-Mag shouted for a halt.

    ¡®What is it? Guards are coming.¡¯

    Beside him the gorgon had a hard look, determined after their successful destruction of the demon blockade. Mickie gave his little partner an inquisitive look, and the little fiend pointed to the wall.

    ¡®We need to blast through this.¡¯

    He gaped, hissing a response before he could stop himself.

    ¡®It¡¯s steel, it¡¯s going to take way too long!¡¯

    ¡®I wasn¡¯t the one who woke up early then decided to break out hell¡¯s most wanted. Originally, we would have gone a different way, but thanks to you there¡¯s a lockdown in effect. Through that wall is an elevator shaft that we need to get to.¡¯

    He cursed and turned to the sheet of grey metal, maybe a charged shot would be enough. The gorgon, who had been watching his frantic conversation with narrowed eyes, chose that moment to speak up.

    ¡®What¡¯s the problem?¡¯

    ¡®This wall, we need to clear it.¡¯

    In the distance he heard shouts as the wreckage of their entry was uncovered. A serpentine gaze regarded him, then the barrier of steel. The snakes on her head began to writhe with restless energy.

    ¡®Very well. Give me a moment and turn away. The glasses will not protect you from this.¡¯

    Mickie was about to question what she meant when he felt a change in the air. On the gorgons head the innumerable serpents stiffened, then whipped around to face the wall. There was a weight pressing upon him, upon his soul, as it had when Belphegor and Mammon used their powers. He turned his eyes away as it spiked, and from the unseen steel there came a creaking, cracking sound.

    ¡®It is done.¡¯

    Her voice was weary, heavy with the burden of the power she had brought to bear. Mickie turned back around to find the wall, alongside a good section of the floor and ceiling, turned to rough, flaky stone.

    ¡®It is brittle and weak, easy to break.¡¯

    ¡®Holy hell.¡¯

    He wanted to ask why she didn¡¯t do that in their fight, but once again locked away his question for later. The shouts were growing less distant as their pursuers combed the winding corridors. Taking a step forward, Mickie fired into the stone wall. The weakened material exploded into a chunks, a dust cloud falling to reveal the dark interior of an elevator shaft.

    ¡®There should be a ladder against one wall, we need to climb upwards.¡¯

    Miz-Mag sounded excited, they must be getting close to the exit. Mickie stepped around the crumbling sections of stone floor, peering into the dark shaft. Sure enough, a series of rungs protruded from an adjacent wall, stretching up and down into the black. He turned back to the gorgon.

    ¡®You good to climb?¡¯

    The serpentine warrior seemed exhausted, living hair limp and unmoving, shoulders slumped. At his prompting however she nodded, moving over to the shaft¡¯s entrance. Due to his position facing down the hall, Mickie was the first to see the guard round the bend. It pointed their way with a rifle and shouted back to its group.

    ¡®Shit, climb, now.¡¯

    Nearer to the ladder, his ally had heard the guard¡¯s cry and knew what it meant. She squared her shoulders and grabbed a rung, swinging into the elevator shaft. Mickie was on her heels as the first shots rang out down the passage, bullets whipping by to clang off metal walls. As he pulled himself into the dark, the mortal took a moment to twist around and fire into the stone ground by the opening. It fell away as he dismissed his gun with ringing ears. Hopefully that would buy them a bit more time.

    The only light in the shaft came from the opening they had made, fading away as the escapees hauled themselves upward. A shout from below was followed by a cracking gunshot. Something whispered past, driving Mickie to climb faster. Glancing back, it appeared his shot at the floor had been somewhat effective. The reduced space made it difficult for the imps to get a good angle at them, resulting in awkward shots that risked the guard tumbling into the dark.

    Another bullet clinked off the steel nearby, yet another punching through his jeans and into the meat of his thigh. Mickie felt the jolting wrongness of the wound, but adrenaline held the pain at bay for now. Soon they were too high for the guards to get a good angle, and a fresh bout of shouting filled the silence left by the cessation of gunfire.

    ¡®Just over there kid. Check those sealed doors.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gestured towards a set of sliding doors further up, and Mickie forwarded the instruction to his gorgon companion. She was the first to reach their exit, leaning over to examine the thin metal. Apparently finding it suitably weak, his new companion drove a scaled fist into the point the sliding sheets joined. The doors warped, leaving a small gap of air between them. As Mickie caught up to the gorgon, she used the freshly made handle to haul open the exit. Gears groaned reluctantly at the abuse, but slowly one of the panels was pulled aside and the trio slipped through.

    They found themselves within a dusty hallway, lit sporadically by bulbs that struggled against the burn of age. Miz-Mag had not been kidding when it said the place was abandoned. His little partner directed them to an open door and the group stepped out into a dim hangar, cramped with old boxes and machinery. The exit to open air was bisected by a massive chain, links of heavy metal rising from below to fade into the darkness of the ceiling.

    Mickie¡¯s attention was drawn back to the entry hall by a heaving grind. On the opposite end to their own entry shaft, another set of sliding doors contained the sound. It was another elevator, one that was no doubt hoisting a horde of heavily armed and armoured imps to halt their escape. Feeling the press of time, he turned a sharp eye to Miz-Mag.

    ¡®Where¡¯s this transport?¡¯

    For its part, his little companion had been eyeing the stacks of dusty crate and detritus. The demon pointed to a cleaner looking cloth, covering a bulky piece of machinery. Mickie hurried over and hurled the fabric aside to reveal a weathered flyer, older and bulkier than the other models he had seen. Miz-Mag wasted no time launching itself towards the controls, tiny hands grasping a joystick almost taller than it was. The fiend dug about in the space until it found an odd metallic ball, brass semicircles delineated by a line about its circumference.

    ¡®Take this and twist both halves till they click.¡¯

    Mickie too the orb and did as he was bid, the metal clicking into place as a green light began to blink on its surface.

    ¡®What is it?¡¯

    ¡®Tracker. So my buddy can find us if we can¡¯t land at the designated spot. Now, move this thing towards the edge, can¡¯t take off so close to all this junk.¡¯

    For a moment Mickie thought about tossing the ball. Having any kind of transmitter on him felt like a bad idea. Yet, they were almost certainly going to need these friends of Miz-Mag¡¯s. So, he pocketed the orb and moved to a corner of the flier. The machine was heavy, and the effort of moving it finally spurred his wounded leg to send spikes of pain up his hip. After a few feet Mickie grew annoyed, and glanced up to ask his new ally why she was not helping.

    He found the gorgon at the edge of the hangar, looking out in awe at the city. Frowning, Mickie stepped away from the flyer and wandered over to join her at the edge. Below the twisted tower scape meshed with the cliff to the next tier, where it met with a comparatively squat district. It was the Hive of those insectile demons, and it was bright with monstrous gouts of flickering flame. A low rumble came from behind as the engine of their escape vessel came to life. It mingled with an influx of shouting beyond the hangar. They were out of time.

    ¡®Hey, come on, we need to go.¡¯

    Beside him the gorgon jumped and tore her gaze from the distant flames. She nodded suddenly, and without looking at him, hurried over to the flyer. They hauled it towards the edge as the guards came closer. Luckily, their pursuers were moving room to room, buying them a few extra moments.

    ¡®That¡¯ll do it kid, hop in.¡¯

    Mickie waved to his serpentine ally, and they slid into the seats of the flyer. Broze eyes turned to him, wide with the same frantic worry that pounded in his head.

    ¡®Can this thing really fly itself?¡¯

    Miz-Mag jerked on the controls and their flyer shuddered upward, right at the ceiling. Mickie shrank back and the gorgon cried out, but their diminutive pilot heaved again on the stick, leveling them out.

    ¡®More or less.¡¯

    Mickie replied weakly. A shout from the door was paired with the clang of bullets against steel. It appeared the guards had heard their machine¡¯s engines and come right for them. Ducking low as Miz-Mag eased them towards the hangar¡¯s opening, Mickie noted a small force pouring into the room. They held the standard bulky rifles, all bar a small group of three imps. These jogged through the open door with a large cylindrical weapon hefted between them. Mickie frowned at the device, too big for any kind of explosive launcher, he could not puzzle out its purpose.

    Their flyer cleared the hangar and drifted into open air, Miz-Mag twisting the stick to shift them away from the bulky chain obstructing their path. Back in the spire the fire from their pursuers ceased as the trio of imps took up positions near the spire¡¯s open dock. They hefted the cylindrical device onto their shoulders, pointing it towards the flyer. If it was too big to be a launcher, then why were they holding it like one?

    ¡®Mag, evasive manouver¡­¡¯

    Mickie was too late in his warning. With a boom something rocketed forth from the guard¡¯s weapon, a projectile that unfurled like a set of opening jaws. It shot past the trio of passengers to collide with one of the propellors keeping them aloft. The spinning blades of steel came to a screeching halt, wrapped in countless threads of a glistening dark material. Idly, Mickie noted it was a net, no doubt meant to capture him and the gorgon.

    ¡®By my bloody balls!¡¯

    Miz-Mag wailed as it wrestled with the control stick, trying to right their course. His companion¡¯s efforts were in vain with one of the blades down however, and the trio veered for the heavy chain connected to the spire. Right before they crached, something clamped about Mickie¡¯s forearm like a vice, and he was hauled from the flyer. The mortal was pulled free as steel warped, engines sputtered, and Miz-Mag wailed in terror.

    As the machine¡¯s remains careened off the chain, his companion¡¯s cries cut off, the little demon vanishing altogether. Mickie was pulled onto the shaky surface of a large link by his new companion. The gorgon had noticed their impending crash and opted to jump for the chain rather than drive right into it. If only he had realised and snagged Miz-Mag as well. Shouts came from the hangar, and bullets pinged off their steel roost. Mickie ducked into a metal ring larger than he was, the chain providing cover from the fire if not a way to escape it.

    ¡®What do we do now? Our plan just fell out of the sky!¡¯

    Obviously, he knew that. Mickie almost snapped out a frustrated reply but held his tongue. The gorgon had probably just saved his life, she was not at fault here. He needed a solution, a way to get them away from the spire. Climbing the chain would only get them shot down or hunted by other flyers. As if in conformation of the thought, a trio of dark shapes came about the curve of the spire¡¯s peak, heading right for them.

    Frantically, Mickie cast about for something, some way out, when his eyes landed on the point where their vehicle had contacted the steel links. The chain was dented and marred, weakened but not nearly enough to break. It did give him an idea though.

    ¡®Can you do that stone gaze thing again?¡¯

    The gorgon looked at him in confusion for a precious few seconds before catching on.

    ¡®I can, but only once more, and this metal is too thick, the centre will resist me.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s fine, I¡¯ll handle it.¡¯

    He swung aside as power began to build about the serpentine warrior. Her hair shuddered and stiffened, snakes sensing what was to come. Mickie spared a glance at the approaching flyers as he summoned his gun. They were getting close, he could make out inbuilt weapon emplacements on their backs, manned by demon squads. His soul shuddered as formless power flooded towards his gun. They only had time for one shot, so he needed to make sure it counted.

    The air shivered abruptly, a wave of force rolled by, wilful as a rockslide and quiet as old earth. Beside him the gorgon sagged, almost falling from the chain link in her bout of fatigue. In Mickie¡¯s hand the body of the gun glowed with the energy he had poured into it, a bomb ready to go off. Turning to the section of chain, he found a concentrated patch of flaky stone at the join between two links. Weakened but not yet broken.

    Taking a steady breath, Mickie wrapped his free arm tightly about the chain, raised him gun, and fired into the stone. A gout of flame, an ear rending roar of force, something bending his arm, twisting it back upon itself. The mortal blacked out for an instant, coming too suddenly as his stomach climbed into his throat. He was falling, had slipped from the chain. Except that wasn¡¯t right. He could feel the steel under his arm, pressed against his legs.

    The world snapped back into focus, though Mickie¡¯s ears still rang from the blast. He held tightly to the chain with one arm as it swung downward, falling free from the spire in an almost gentle arc. Next to him the gorgon was clutching tightly to the ride, snakes whipping wildly behind her head in the rushing air. Below the flaming Hive sector on the second tier flashed by, replaced by the next level. Peering ahead Mickie noticed the fourth tier looked a little too close to their current height.

    It was a district of low, squat homes and industrial buildings, and the chain carved into it like a scoop through a soft tub of ice cream. Heavy steel tore through homes and workplaces alike, just a link shy of Mickie¡¯s own. The mortal watched the destruction just below his feet, occasionally catching a glimpse of a wide-eyed demon or human through a window or on the streets. The chain slowed as it dragged, but did not stop, a concern because they were quickly approaching the stone wall to the next city tier. He and the gorgon might have gotten lucky with their positioning for this district, by that barrier of stone would pancake them.

    Mickie glanced up at his ally and saw the same thoughts mirrored on her face. She mouthed a word at him, or perhaps shouted it, he could not tell through the ringing in his ears. Jump. A clawed hand pointed towards a taller warehouse roof, right in the path of their swinging chain. It would not be a long drop; they could make it. He gave his companion a firm nod. Below metal rent a house in two, and Mickie saw a glimpse of a terrified face before it was swept up in the destruction.

    Thirty meters from the warehouse. Twenty. At ten meters the branded man firmed up his resolve. At five meters he loosened his grip, squatting low and leaning out. They hit the roof and in the momentary resistance of impact the human and gorgon leapt from their dangling ride of deadly steel. A moment of weightlessness passed, he breached the surface of a sea made from force and violence. Then Mickie hit the roof and splashed back beneath the waves.

 17 â€“ Burrow Below

    Grimy stones dug into Mickie¡¯s uncovered feet as he hobbled through the dirty streets. In the distance there was a calamitous crash as the chain upon which he had been riding hit a distant cliff. As the snake of dark metal continued to wreak destruction through the city, a strong hand caught his uninjured arm and pulled him down a narrow alley.

    He and the gorgon had been fleeing the scene of their departure for some time, unsure if they had been spotted jumping from the chain. Mickie thought their chances were good as the district was currently in a state of confused panic. Some had seen the chain carve its way through their homes, but many only felt the roar of destruction and quaking of the earth. It was the perfect tumult for Mickie and his new ally to lose themselves in.

    The duo finally came to a stop under the shadowed walkway of two interconnected warehouses. They spent long moments gasping for air and listening to the distant shouts of ongoing carnage. Images flickered across the mortal¡¯s vision, still scenes of panicked eyes looking up, bodies broken like kindling, and blood on steel. They fell from his mind, Mickie sweeping aside the disgust and niggling guilt to leave himself empty and focused. Meeting the eyes of the gorgon, he saw his own resolve reflected in her slitted eyes.

    Mickie had honestly expected very little if any guilt from the serpentine warrior when it came to the means of their escape. He could only imagine what months in the arena would do to even the most sensitive empath. Yet, his new companion looked slightly shaken at what they had done, even if he could tell by the firm set of her jaw that she did not regret it. They had done what was required to survive.

    ¡®What¡¯s next?¡¯

    The gorgon¡¯s question was hushed, pitched low even though no one would hear them through the ongoing chaos.

    ¡®Next is the hard part.¡¯

    He dug into the tattered pocket of his jeans and pulled free a dented metal orb. One end still glowed occasionally with a gentle green light. Mickie tossed the object to his new ally.

    ¡®We wait.¡¯

    Scaled fingers plucked the orb from the air, and she examined the battered surface curiously.

    ¡®And this is?¡¯

    ¡®A way for my allies to find us, hopefully before any city enforcers do.¡¯

    The gorgon¡¯s brow furrowed.

    ¡®How long will they be?¡¯

    ¡®Honestly, I don¡¯t know. Not sure if you could tell, but that exit wasn¡¯t really part of the plan.¡¯

    That earned a snort.

    ¡®I should hope not. We were lucky to not be minced along with the other poor sops.¡¯

    It was a dry response, an attempt to shove aside the guilt she felt with an air of disregard.

    ¡®So, now we¡¯ve successfully escaped prison together, I think introductions are in order.¡¯

    He reached out a hand.

    ¡®I¡¯m Mickie.¡¯

    The gorgon hesitated only briefly before shaking his hand.

    ¡®Kalistra.¡¯

    She said, mouth struggling to form the name, as if reluctant to speak it.

    ¡®Fantastic.¡¯

    Mickie released the gorgon¡¯s hand to prod his injured leg. The hole was still there, but it had already stopped bleeding. He observed his ally¡¯s sharp claws.

    ¡®Any chance you could pull out a bullet for me?¡¯

    <hr>

    A massive crash marked an end to the ongoing clamour as the chain finally stopped its destructive swing against the cliffs leading to the sixth tier. Over the next couple of hours, the chaos in the streets settled as word spread, though neither of the two fugitives had spotted authorities yet. It brought the mortal¡¯s thoughts back to the burning hive district he had seen before leaving the spire. Could it be that the enforcers were otherwise occupied?

    A soft tapping on stone caused both escapees to whirl around. The sound was deliberate enough to get their attention, but low enough not to spread beyond the alley. It did not take long for Mickie to catch sight of a small figure, cloaked, and huddled in the shadows. He was glad he had thought to give the glasses to Kalistra while they waited. If this figure had surprised them before she wore the protective lenses, then their guide might already be stone.

    ¡®There was only supposed to be one.¡¯

    The voice was oddly high, though not so sinister as Miz-Mag¡¯s squeaky tone.

    ¡®There was a change of plans.¡¯

    ¡®No shit.¡¯

    Mickie stepped from the shadows to reveal his face, but the small figure did not follow suit.

    ¡®I know I got free earlier than you all expected. Miz-Mag and I had to get a bit creative with the escape.¡¯

    He tried for disarming, but the new arrival was reluctant to bite.

    ¡®You are Mickie then?¡¯

    ¡®I am.¡¯

    ¡®And who have you brought with you?¡¯

    Kalistra took a steady step into the light, the bronze scales of her serpent hair glinting. The reaction from the new arrival was immediate, the cloaked figure cursing and taking a few steps back.

    ¡®The gorgon!¡¯

    It spoke the word like a curse, fear and surprise evident.

    ¡®Indeed.¡¯

    Kalistra seemed mildly amused by the effect her presence had.

    ¡®It seems my reputation proceeds me.¡¯

    By all appearances their prospective guide was on the verge of fleeing. Mickie switched tactics, shifting from reassuring to professional.

    ¡®Look, buddy, were you not sent for the express purpose of picking me up?¡¯

    He received a hesitant confirmation.

    ¡®Then I don¡¯t see what the big issue is. I¡¯m here, and I¡¯ve saved you a rescue attempt. What else could you ask for?¡¯

    ¡®You were supposed to be alone.¡¯

    He let a touch of irritation into his tone.

    ¡®Well, I¡¯m not. So, either you go back empty handed, or you go back with both of us.¡¯

    Mickie did not know what Miz-Mag¡¯s new friend¡¯s game was, but he was certain that his presence was part of it. A war played out in the body language of the little figure; it was clear their guide did not want to help them. Eventually though, duty won out, and they were directed to follow by a voice dripping with distaste. Mickie raised an eyebrow to Kalistra, and his new ally gave a nod in return.

    Kalistra was handed a cloak to wear, while Mickie was informed emphatically that he would be getting nothing. That was fine, he could manage without with attention so focused upon the destruction wrought by the chain. The trio wound their way through the sooty alleys, weaving between murmuring groups of residents discussing the recent disaster.

    Their guide led them to a dead end between two buildings. The figure moved to a heavy looking garbage bin, overflowing with filth. It beckoned them over, shifting aside bags of waste before setting a shoulder against the massive metal box. Mickie figured it wanted their help to move the thing, but was swiftly proven wrong. The bin glided aside on silent wheels, revealing a rusted manhole covering the street beneath. It was that with which the little figure needed assistance.

    Kalistra hooked two fingers into a hole in the metal and pulled the covering aside with little effort. Beyond was a stretch of darkness, one that reminded Mickie of another secret entrance he had seen when he first arrived in the city. The identity of Miz-Mag¡¯s new allies clicked into place. These were the urchins that the enforcers had mentioned when they followed him into the alley. It would have been nice if his partner could have at least informed him of that much.

    The mortal kept the revelation under wraps as they descended into the dark. Their guide was skittish enough, he did not want to make it apparent how little he actually knew of their supposed rescue plan. As he and the gorgon made it into a tight stone passage, the bin was rolled the back into place overhead. The manhole soon followed, the light vanishing as it was dragged into place. There was the tapping of feet on a ladder, the scuffle of footsteps in the dark, then a glowing orb bloomed to life in their guide¡¯s hand.

    ¡®Follow and keep close.¡¯

    A long journey through cramped passages ensued. Mickie thought Kalistra might be get put off by the tight spaces, but when he glanced back the gorgon seemed at ease, almost happy at their surrounds. Eventually another high pitch voice called out into the dark and the cloaked figure gave a coded answer. Mickie could feel an excited ripple ululate through the tunnel ahead as their guide¡¯s response echoed outwards.

    Soon they were walking into a massive underground bunker. Rooms upon rooms of space for storage, training, sleeping, eating and even entertainment. And, to his surprise, the occupants were human children. They spoke like miniaturized adults, cursing one another and discussing work. It also seemed like their guard had been an exception rather than the rule. Most other urchins were happy to see him, and downright delighted at the presence of a celebrity like Kalistra.

    They spoke about Miz-Mag as if they knew the little demon, wondering at how it had orchestrated an escape such as theirs. If Mickie¡¯s partner had been present its head might have exploded from the praise. The mortal¡¯s broken arm was splinted and wrapped in a sling, though he was unsure if that was even required. His regeneration had proven highly adept at managing the injuries he had received while in the arena. Breaks, burns of bloody wounds, there was little Mickie¡¯s could not overcome given a little time.

    Eventually they were led to an unoccupied room in which they could rest, a barrack style dorm not currently in use. The inside consisted of four spartan bunks and an attached washroom. An energetic kid with long curly raven hair spoke to them from the door.

    ¡®Feel free to wash up and rest. The boss is out handling the hive op, should hopefully head this way soonish, but who knows.¡¯

    The mention of the hive peaked Mickie¡¯s interest, but the urchin had vanished before he got the chance to ask a question. They soon discovered that the underground dwellers had managed to scrounge up clothing for Kalistra. Khaki pants and a basic black shirt that the gorgon changed into almost immediately. After Mickie took his turn getting cleaned up he resummoned a fresh outfit and exited the bathroom to find his new ally holding a bundle of leather and cloth.

    It was the wreath of thorns; he had forgotten about it in the chaos of their escape. The deadly crown had been tucked away in his jacket when he gave it to Kalistra. When Mickie recalled the clothing, it must have left the wrapped wreath behind.

    ¡®Careful with that, don¡¯t let what¡¯s inside touch bare skin.¡¯

    ¡®What is it?¡¯

    The gorgon set the bundle down on a spare bunk.

    ¡®A wreath of thorns. Don¡¯t know what kind, but they aren¡¯t pleasant. Take a look if you want.¡¯

    Mickie motioned for her to unwrap the item, curious if she would know of this cure to her own abilities. After a minute or so of careful cloth removal the wreath sat on a bed of fabric and leather.

    ¡®Any ideas?¡¯

    He asked hopefully, but Kalistra gave a slow shake of her head.

    ¡®None. Why can¡¯t I touch it? Looks harmless enough.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s what cured me. Turned me back to flesh.¡¯

    The gorgon¡¯s eyes widened, and she looked from him to the wreath.

    ¡®Really? This thing? How?¡¯

    There was an undercurrent of excitement to the questions.

    ¡®Painfully.¡¯

    He spent a few moments thinking of a good way to describe the experience.

    ¡®If being turned to stone was like being trapped in a cocoon, then wearing that thing is being freed by getting dropped into magma. Sure, the cocoon burns up, but so do you.¡¯

    ¡®Curious. So it scrubs the soul free?¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s fingers danced above the tangle of black thorns, eager to touch them.

    ¡®Scrub isn¡¯t the word I would use. Shred¡¯s probably more suitable.¡¯

    The gorgon pressed a finger into the wreath. Mickie winced as she did, expecting an immediate outcrying of agony. Yet, there was nothing. Long moments past in silent expectation until Kalistra ripped her finger free with a gasp.

    ¡®Well, that was unpleasant.¡¯

    The branded man was almost irritated at how well she took the experience.

    ¡®Just unpleasant?¡¯

    ¡®Well, I didn¡¯t get so far as to allow a proper attack on the soul. Though, I can see now how this object would break the bindings of stone.¡¯

    Kalistra began to wrap the wreath back in its packaging, taking care not to let the deadly thorns make contact with her skin. She tossed the bundled object to Mickie, and he tucked it back away into his jacket.

    ¡®These urchins.¡¯

    The gorgon said cautiously after a short silence.

    ¡®They seemed to speak as if there was another with us. You did too, for that matter.¡¯

    Mickie glanced over to find the serpentine warrior focussed upon his brand. What she had said was more an observation than a question, spoken with the understanding that he would likely not answer. It was how Belphegor had once questioned him, dancing about the subject of his deal rather than questioning him directly. Mickie realised he now had a chance to confirm something he had long suspected.

    ¡®Kalistra, if I was to tell you the specifics of my deal, what would you say?¡¯

    His new companion¡¯s eyes widened in alarm.

    ¡®That you¡¯re mad. I didn¡¯t mean to pry. If what the urchins said is related then do not answer.¡¯

    ¡®And if I did anyway, what would happen to me?¡¯

    That garnered him a confused look.

    ¡®You would die?¡¯

    There it was, the reason everyone in this city had been so aloof about his mark. They had thought that the requirement of silence was hard baked into the deal, had not even considered the prospect that he might be able to speak freely.

    ¡®Is this common knowledge, that we die if we talk about the bargains we made?¡¯

    Kalistra was growing ever more confused.

    ¡®Well no, until I made my deal I always thought that it was a subject of shame, and was taught that it was rude to pry. I suppose those who force the deals might consider it common knowledge. Why are you asking me this?¡¯

    So that probably meant Aria had not known what might happen when he talked to her about it back in the palace. The Mechanist though, well it probably didn¡¯t care if he died, as long as it got what it wanted.

    ¡®I am asking because I have no enforced silence as part of the bargain I made. In fact, the specifics were rather vague at the time.¡¯

    The gorgon stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

    ¡®So you can¡­?¡¯

    ¡®Tell you that Miz-Mag is the demon I made the deal with, and that it follows be around like a bad smell? Yes, I can.¡¯

    Kalistra stared in horror for a moment, but when a few moments past and Mickie failed to drop dead, she let lose a nervous chuckle.

    ¡®In all the nine circles, I would never have thought.¡¯

    She paused and gave him a wary look.

    ¡®And you aren¡¯t lying?¡¯

    It was Mickie¡¯s turn to chuckle.

    ¡®Would be a bit of an elaborate ruse if I did. Would have had to convince all those urchins to go along with it while I was locked up.¡¯

    She waved him off.

    ¡®I know, I know. It¡¯s just, I don¡¯t think you realise how unusual this is. When a bargain is struck there are always clear terms. You can never harm your master, never disobey a direct order, and never speak of the contents of your deal.¡¯

    ¡®Why would they prohibit talking about it?¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s expression turned bitter.

    ¡®So no one can help fufill your end of the bargain. It¡¯s what makes the deals such a trap. The idea is to gain the eternal service by binding the other party then making it impossible for them to fulfil their end of the bargain.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s what happened to you?¡¯

    No answer, only a meaningful look. That would be a yes then.

    ¡®Well, I¡¯m under no such restrictions. In fact, you¡¯ll probably get to meet my demon once he wakes back up. Kind of anyway.¡¯

    ¡®Kind of?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, Miz-Mag is invisible for most people, it¡¯s impossible for them to hear him talk and they only feel him if he puts some effort in. Oh, and he¡¯s about this big.¡¯

    Mickie held his hands slightly less than a foot apart, indicating the approximate size of his little red partner. The gorgon leant forward in interest.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡®So, your mark really isn¡¯t from the Soul Lord? I mean, I thought it looked like a derivative, but I wasn¡¯t certain.¡¯

    The mortal rubbed his branded hand, thoughts straying to the strange half dreams he had while locked within his soul.

    ¡®No, far as I can tell Mag isn¡¯t the Soul Lord.¡¯

    ¡®You mentioned you were able to see this Miz-Mag. Was this before or after you made the bargain with it?¡¯

    ¡®Before, showed up not long after I got to hell actually.¡¯

    ¡®Any others that can see it?¡¯

    ¡®The boss of the palace, and apparently someone in the urchins, but I haven¡¯t met them yet. How is this important?¡¯

    Kalistra looked at him as if her were an idiot.

    ¡®Because why would you, by all accounts a normal mortal, be able to see a demon that no one else can? The Palace Lord I can understand, it¡¯s equipped for the task. But you though, what makes you different from any other mortal or demon?¡¯

    It was a thought that had occurred to Mickie before, but one that had long since slipped from his list of priorities.

    ¡®I¡¯m not sure, and as far as I can tell Miz-Mag doesn¡¯t know either.¡¯

    ¡®That is a problem. From what you have said there is something amiss with the deal you made, like the contract you signed was written in advance, just waiting for you to arrive.¡¯

    Mickie felt a mild unease. Though this was something he had been considering for some time, it was odd to have it confirmed out loud by another. His gaze drifted to the mark on Kalistra¡¯s forehead, red ink, a ring of bones surrounding a crescent. He wondered what it had taken for her to bind herself so completely with a deal, and who she had pledged to. Instead, he changed the subject.

    ¡®You seem to know your stuff when it comes to these deals. Were you some kind of hell lawyer or something?¡¯

    The gorgon gave a soft chuckle.

    ¡®No, nothing so sinister. I was training to be a Transcriber for my people. Someone who manifests power into physical form.¡¯

    ¡®Manifesting power?¡¯

    Mickie thought of red characters etched into dark steel.

    ¡®You mean those runes, like the ones on our chains?¡¯

    Kalistra nodded.

    ¡®Yes. The metal produced in the ninth circle is a good conduit of power, though there are other materials that work.¡¯

    Images of frozen corpses flickered through his mind.

    ¡®Well, I¡¯d expect that stuff to be a bit scarce in future.¡¯

    The gorgon gave him an inquisitive look.

    ¡®Why?¡¯

    Mickie told her of his time out on the white wastes, speaking of the palace to someone other than Miz-Mag for the first time since escaping it. Once he finished describing the mines, he shifted to the reason he was out there in the first place. Eventually, he had covered the entirety of his time in the ninth circle. Kalistra was a mixture of horrified and impressed as he described the Mechanist¡¯s possession of the Palace Lord. When he came to the Conductor¡¯s killing blow, the gorgon was outright awed.

    ¡®I¡¯ve heard of these creatures before, but I never knew what they were capable of. That sounds a lot like a direct strike on the soul.¡¯

    ¡®What? Like the wreath?¡¯

    ¡®Similar, but far more potent. Rather than jab or scratch I think your friend ripped the soul straight from the robot¡¯s body.¡¯

    That was basically the palace itself if Mickie recalled correctly. It was an impressive feat that made him ever more wary of the mysterious Conductor. A sudden knock at the door drew the pair from their discussion. A boy with a shock of red hair poked his head into the room.

    ¡®Hey, sorry to interrupt but the boss is back. It has some time if you want to come say hi.¡¯

    The pair were soon on their feet and moving through the bustling warren. Urchins still hurried about, though now with far less casual chatter. Clearly the arrival of their boss had the children on their best behaviour. Watching the industrious youths, Mickie was taken aback by how uniformly mature they all acted. It almost seemed impossible that a force like this could have been assembled, organised, and trained without an adult. He had not known many children, but those he had tended towards frenetic disorder. Deciding that their red-headed guide was friendly enough, he posed a question.

    ¡®So are you guys recruited the moment you get to hell or something?¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    The boy appeared distracted, but answered readily enough.

    ¡®Oh, nope. Normally we drift about for a few years, serving some demon or other. The urchins only scoop up those that look like they can handle the work.¡¯

    A few years? But they were all so young.

    ¡®Why are you all, you know, still children?¡¯

    The guide gave him an odd look.

    ¡®It¡¯s better for sneaking about, smaller frames and all that.¡¯

    There was a sudden pause as a thought struck the boy.

    ¡®Hold on, you meant to ask why some of us aren¡¯t a bit older?¡¯

    Mickie gave a confused nod of his own.

    ¡®Wow, you really are new. Sorry to break it to you but I¡¯m probably older than you are buddy. Been down here far longer than I ever was alive.¡¯

    Mickie was taken aback, he missed a step and stumbled along before regaining his balance.

    ¡®I¡¯m surprised you don¡¯t know that your kind do not age in this realm.¡¯

    Kalistra commented, but Mickie hardly heard her. His brain was still catching up with the information. The urchins were not actually children, well, not mentally anyway. Mickie knew that some humans had been in hell for unreasonable lengths of time, but the deeper implications of that had never occurred to him.

    He recalled that the Conductor¡¯s human friend had been around when the palace was being built. That must have been centuries ago. It should have dawned on Mickie then, but the old man had looked the part with skin weathered as old stone. These children though, it was disconcerting that there could be someone over a century old looking like they were only just big enough to reach the high shelf.

    ¡®Wouldn¡¯t it get crowded then?¡¯

    Mickie asked abruptly. Kalistra raised an eyebrow in his direction, while their ginger guide made an enquiring noise.

    ¡®Hell, I mean. If no one gets old here, then no one dies naturally. Surely it would get crowded.¡¯

    ¡®Oh right, that. I mean, maybe? I¡¯ve never really noticed it change; this place tends to be pretty fatal. No one can escape death forever.¡¯

    The kid seemed dismissive, not all that interested in the logistics of the realm. Kalistra, in contrast, gave the eternally youthful boy a frown and elaborated further.

    ¡®Unnatural death does play a significant part. However, there is also the call of the abyss.¡¯

    That certainly sounded pleasant.

    ¡®And what is that?¡¯

    ¡®It is a difficult thing to describe, but those who hear the call know it for what it is. Those who have lived too long, and grow weary with life tend to be the ones that hear it the most.¡¯

    ¡®So, you hear the call and die? Like killer whale song or something?¡¯

    ¡®Yup, drop dead like a puppet with its strings cut.¡¯

    Their guide interjected, point them down a side passage as the gorgon gave him a dirty look.

    ¡®In a way, yes, though I would not truly call it death. To answer the call is to dive willingly into the river of souls. It is to move away from existence in this realm.¡¯

    The thought of the light streaked black beneath the palace caused Mickie to shudder.

    ¡®Yeah. Not sure I¡¯ll be answering any call if it comes my way.¡¯

    ¡®Ain¡¯t that the truth. We¡¯re here, by the way.¡¯

    Their guide brought the pair to a stop beside a heavy door, bringing the conversation to a close. Stepping forward, the boy hammered a fist into the dense metal.

    ¡®This is Milo. Theta-six-four-seven-Gamma. Got the big kids with me.¡¯

    Without a response from inside, the doors swung open, and they were ushered through. While Mickie had begun to suspect the leader of this group was not human from the way the urchins referred to it, he was unprepared for the creature that greeted them.

    If Mickie was forced to describe the demon, he would have gone with the words frog and goblin. When the golden skinned terror turned to face them, he realised snake also belonged in the mix. It was, simply put, one of the most sinister looking fiends he had and encountered so far. And that was in a list including a monstrous humanoid centipede. At least he now knew who Miz-Mag had been considering its new friend.

    ¡®Ah, you must be Mickie.¡¯

    It turned uncanny gemstone eyes to Kalistra.

    ¡®And you the dreaded champion of the arena. It is truly a pleasure, both of you. My name is Sestus, and as you might have already surmised, I am the leader of this little band.¡¯

    There was a silent few moments in which the pair just took in the strange demon, who seemed to mind their attention very little. The golden goblin glanced about, looking for the final member of their little party.

    ¡®I see Miz-Mag is not with you. Nothing untoward I hope?¡¯

    ¡®No, it¡¯s just resting at the moment.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, it would have been good to catch-up with the little scamp, though, for now I suppose the pair of you will serve.¡¯

    Sestus¡¯ voice was soft and curated, contrasting with its monstrous appearance.

    ¡®Serve for what?¡¯

    ¡®I thought that would be obvious. Serve to explain why you are here so early, and why a giant chain shredded part of the city.¡¯

    Mickie winced, but did not dive into an explanation immediately.

    ¡®Look, Mag might have trusted you, but I don¡¯t know you.¡¯

    Beside him Kalistra stirred.

    ¡®You entrusted our escape to someone you didn¡¯t know? This could very well have been a trap.¡¯

    The mortal gave her an irritated look, but Sestus interrupted them with a chuckle before he got the chance to retort.

    ¡®Come now. There is no need for an argument. I¡¯m sure Mickie¡¯s options were limited upon his awakening, and dear Stone Eyes, I¡¯m certain you prefer this to your last accommodations. We, after all, have not attempted to put you in chains.¡¯

    Kalistra looked as if she wanted to argue further, but settled for casting Mickie a disgruntled look. For his part the branded man waited in wary silence for Sestus to continue.

    ¡®Now, my boy, while I¡¯m sure you have been through quite the ordeal, I think you can agree that Miz-Mag, at the very least, trusted our intentions.¡¯

    Mickie gave a slow nod, not responding, but not refuting the leader of the urchins.

    ¡®Good. Now, we have helped you get this far, so do you not think it proper to offer us an explanation at the very least?¡¯

    He gave the gemstone eyes a long look. While the motivations of this creature remained a mystery, it was true that it had been helpful so far.

    ¡®Alright. I¡¯ll explain.¡¯

    Fishing in his jacket pocket, Mickie removed a cloth and leather bundle, placing it on a nearby table. He peeled apart the coverings to reveal the circlet of dark thorns. Sestus peered at the wreath for a long moment, before abruptly bursting into laughter.

    ¡®A soul flayer crown! I mean, that would do it, but must not have been pleasant.¡¯

    ¡®It wasn¡¯t.¡¯

    Mickie replied dryly. The response had caught Kalistra¡¯s interest, and the gorgon leaning into the conversation.

    ¡®So, you know what this stuff is then?¡¯

    ¡®That I do. This here is a branch from a soul flayer bramble, a rare and particularly sinister plant residing in the sixth circle. The bramble traps anything that falls into it through a debilitating attack on the soul. While the victim is stunned it becomes ensnared in the thorns, unable to escape. Its prey will then slowly bleed to death while its soul is stripped raw.¡¯

    The gorgon and man stood in silence for a long moment before Kalistra turned her slitted eyes to Mickie.

    ¡®Are you sure that whoever did this didn¡¯t just want you dead?¡¯

    ¡®I doubt they did.¡¯

    Sestus interjected, its wide mouth twisted in an eerie smile.

    ¡®The bramble is rare enough that whoever acquired some must have known what they were getting, and the effect it would have. The only questions that remains, is who?¡¯

    Ex sanguine et vitibus natus. The latin phrase attached to the wreath came back to Mickie like an old debt. No, whoever had place the soul flayer on his head did not want him dead, because they knew who he had been when alive. Mickie did not relay his thoughts to the two demons, instead letting the conversation roll onwards as he rebound the wreath. Kalistra seemed happy enough to take charge of their escape, describing the ascent through the elevator shaft and eventual destruction of the chain.

    ¡®Fast thinking and lucky timing.¡¯

    Sestus commented on their flight through the panicked city district.

    ¡®Lucky timing?¡¯

    Kalistra was as confused as Mickie with regards to the golden demon¡¯s conclusion.

    ¡®Indeed. You mentioned a lack of any enforcement in response to your escape. That would be because their services were already occupied elsewhere.¡¯

    ¡®The hive. That district on the second tier.¡¯

    The realisation came to him with a memory of flickering fire.

    ¡®Exactly. I suppose the pair of you must have seen it on the way out. Another gift from our mutual acquaintance.¡¯

    ¡®Miz-Mag did all of that?¡¯

    Sestus gave a low chuckle.

    ¡®Of course not. What it did provide us with however was an opportunity. Your partner overheard a conversation, one in which Belphegor ordered the hive leader¡¯s assassination.¡¯

    ¡®And how does that translate to the district burning to the ground?¡¯

    ¡®Well, the cunning old devil wanted the murder weapon to be of a particular sort. One designed for use by my very own group. A dagger bound to an urchin, one that severs the soul from a body and casts it into the abyss.¡¯

    Kalistra started at that.

    ¡®You mean soul bound? How in the nine circles did Belphegor get one bound to an urchin? Or even use it?¡¯

    Mickie found her reaction to be a bit overblown, it was just a knife.

    ¡®What¡¯s so special about a soul bound weapon?¡¯

    It was the gorgon who answered him.

    ¡®They¡¯ve usually got abilities, like the one Sestus described. Abilities that should only be usable by whoever it¡¯s bound to. That means if Belphegor has one that can be used¡­¡¯

    The two of them turned suspicious eyes on the leader of the urchins.

    ¡®If you are insinuating that one of my own has switched sides, then you are wrong. Belphegor acquired the dagger during a failed rescue attempt.¡¯

    Gemstones eyes glinted at Mickie in something he guessed might have been meaningful look.

    ¡®Then, through some means of which I do not know, the old fiend twisted the binding on the dagger, changed it so anyone could wield the blade.¡¯

    ¡®He can do that?¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s exclamation was driven by her understanding of the work involved. For his part, Mickie was less concerned with the how than the why.

    ¡®So, Belphegor wanted to frame the urchins for the kill?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, apparently he can do that, and yes, he wanted the hive gone and us to be blamed.¡¯

    The branded man took a moment to think that over. An assassination of such a key figure would not be a simple task. To do it unseen and frame the urchins would require some serious stealth, at a level almost akin to Miz-Mag¡¯s invisibility.

    ¡®Illiath.¡¯

    Mickie concluded, it made sense in terms of talent and desire for power. The name elicited a smile and a nod from Sestus, and a markedly odd reaction from Kalistra. The gorgon stiffened, as if she had just had a whip cracked by her ear. She tried to hide the response with a forced frown, too exaggerated to be convincing. Suspicion piqued, Mickie glanced her way but did not comment, instead elaborating on his point.

    ¡®If someone were to perform an assassination like that it would have to be Illiath.¡¯

    ¡®And you would be correct to think so.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s began to pull the pieces together, assembling a narrative from scattered fragments of information.

    ¡®But it didn¡¯t go smoothly, did it?¡¯

    He looked to the golden fiend.

    ¡®You all got word of the assassination from Miz-Mag. Probably intervened enough that Illiath was spotted after the kill.¡¯

    A nod confirmed his thoughts.

    ¡®Yes, it was a closer thing than we might have liked, but the hive found out who really killed their queen.¡¯

    ¡®So, the insects knew it was Belphegor attempting to frame you for the kill. They would not have been happy.¡¯

    The urchins had mentioned that Sestus was out on a mission when he and Kalistra arrived. Probably making sure Illiath was caught in the act. Yet Mickie had seen the hive ablaze on his way out of the spire, not something the insects were liable to do on their own.

    ¡®I¡¯m guessing Belphegor was watching, had his eye on the hive. Probably came down hard when he realised Illiath had been discovered.¡¯

    He paused, mulling over the reason why. Kalistra, who had been following along, jumped in with an answer.

    ¡®Extermination.¡¯

    She said grimly, but with certainty.

    ¡®Better to kill them all then let the secret get out.¡¯

    Sestus grinned wickedly at them, mouth stretching towards the back of its head.

    ¡®Our thoughts exactly. I must say I was not prepared for Belphegor to come down so hard. Took us a while to extract from the hive.¡¯

    That explained the circumstances of their escape, but not their host¡¯s motivation for providing assistance.

    ¡®Well, it¡¯s good to know Illiath couldn¡¯t get away with murder, but I think it¡¯s time you told us why we¡¯re here.¡¯

    The golden demon leant against a nearby table, slowly blinking its gemstone eyes.

    ¡®I suppose it is time that we got back on topic. The escape you made was impressive, but it complicates our future plans to get you out of the city. We will need to adjust accordingly.¡¯

    ¡®How so?¡¯

    It was not hard to guess the impacting factors, but Mickie wanted to hear it from the urchin leader.

    ¡®Well, there is the chain currently lying across the district above. It might have caught Belphegor by surprise, but he will respond swiftly. I don¡¯t doubt a group of enforces have already been redirected from the hive to scour the city above for you. Now our original plan would have had you leave the spire with a touch more discretion¡­¡¯

    ¡®What was the original plan?¡¯

    Kalistra interjected.

    ¡®You made it seem as if you had some other way to remove the stone bindings?¡¯

    If it was at all disgruntled at being cut off, Sestus did not show it.

    ¡®Well, we would have smuggled Mickie out while he was still a statue after infiltrating the spire. Miz-Mag had been working with us to form suitable points of entry. After Mickie was out, we would have cured him of the bindings, and yes, we would have not used the soul flayer.¡¯

    Sestus paused with a dramatic flourish, flaring the gorgon¡¯s impatience.

    ¡®And what would you have used?¡¯

    ¡®So eager, young champion. If you were hoping for a cure-all then you are out of luck. We would have leveraged the bond between Mickie and Miz-Mag, using their connection as a bridge to his soul, a way to get a scrubbing brush over for a clean, as it were.¡¯

    The explanation left said mortal feeling a touch uneasy. He was unsure he liked the prospect of letting the eery gemstone-eyed fiend anywhere near his soul. For her part, Kalistra seemed to accept the answer, even if it displeased her.

    ¡®Yes, I can see that working. Would not be easy though.¡¯

    ¡®Not easy, but still easier than getting ahold of some soul flayer bramble. Did I mention how rare that stuff is?¡¯

    The gorgon grunted and waved Sestus on.

    ¡®Well, back to the plan. Originally, we would have had stealth on our hands. Got Mickie out before Belphegor realised what was happening. Now though, if you aren¡¯t discovered above, they¡¯ll post armies at every exit. In other words, it¡¯s about as likely to succeed as your chain plan.¡¯

    The golden demon barked out a quick laugh as Mickie scowled in its direction. Kalistra glanced between them in confusion.

    ¡®The chain plan?¡¯

    ¡®Our original attempt to leave the spire. The one that got me sent to fight you. We would have escaped the palace by climbing down one of the chains connected to the city. Only Illiath got to us first.¡¯

    ¡®Not sure how you expected to stay out of sight for the whole trip down.¡¯

    Sestus said with low chuckle.

    ¡®We weren¡¯t exactly spoilt for options. Now, if we could get back on topic, what are our next moves?¡¯

    ¡®Ah, forgive me, Miz-Mag just made the tale so daring in the telling. As for what comes next, well, we will need to wait.¡¯

    That gave Mickie pause.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, I thought you said Belphegor would be locking down the four paths up? Shouldn¡¯t we get out before that happens?¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps. The tunnels of each den are extensive, but not interconnected. We would need to head to the district above and risk getting spotted by the enforcers.¡¯

    ¡®So what? I can¡¯t wait around here forever.¡¯

    Clawed hands patted the air in response to Mickie¡¯s frustration.

    ¡®Nor would I expect you to. The Soul Lord marked you to climb, so climb you will. We will just have to consider another way up.¡¯

    ¡®And that is?¡¯

    Sestus stretched its arms up, satisfied as a cat that had caught a mouse.

    ¡®A path out in the dark, hidden from any prying eyes.¡¯

    ¡®You have something like that?¡¯

    ¡®We do. Some time ago the urchins finished carving a tunnel out of the city and up through the ceiling of the eighth circle. Using it we shall flee without Belphegor being any the wiser.¡¯

    ¡®And how do we get to this path out?¡¯

    ¡®Well¡¯ Sestus said, leaning forward. ¡®That¡¯s the hard part.¡¯

    <hr>

    Mickie walked slowly back to the barracks with Kalistra, thoughts turning over the plan outlined by the cunning demon. It was a good plan, and that was the problem. An escape route, ready made for their purposes, prepared by a fiend whose reason for helping them he could not puzzle out. If he had a better alternative available, Mickie would be happy to take it.

    The duo made it back to their accommodations, but Mickie found himself unwilling to step inside. His thoughts were restless, bleeding through to his body and demanding movement. Kalistra glanced back at him from beyond the threshold, pushing the protective glasses they had stolen back atop her nose.

    ¡®You alright?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ Mickie said, shifting his bad arm in its sling. ¡®Just feel like a walk is all. Might go for a wander.¡¯

    The gorgon gave him a brief frown, before seeming to let go of whatever thought had caught her with a shrug.

    ¡®Suit yourself.¡¯

    She slumped onto a bed as Mickie set off into the base, led by the twisting rhythm of his churning mind. Mickie wondered who it was that had placed the wreath upon his head, who it was that knew him. Did he even want to find out? His had been a life moulded by others, the existence of a tool to be used until it broke and was discarded. It was not a life he recalled with pride. Yet, now he had died he found himself a pawn yet again, playing on a board of which he could not even see the limits. Perhaps he should have turned down Miz-Mag when he awoke in that cage. Accepted whatever fate the insectile warden had in store for him.

    ¡®Mickie, right? You okay?¡¯

    A soft voice drew the branded man from his introspection. He found himself at an intersection between tunnels, a young girl looking up at him with old eyes. Her brows were knotted in a mixture of concern and irritation. Mickie glanced about to find a large, heavily loaded trolley, no doubt he had blocked this urchin with his daydreaming.

    ¡®Yeah, sorry.¡¯

    Taking a step to one side, he let the ageless girl get back to her task. She turned away after casting him a long look, hauling her burden through the halls with some effort. It must be strange, Mickie mused, to never be able to develop the capabilities of an adult. He wondered just how much this group had seen, huddled beneath the black city.

    ¡®Hey, hold up.¡¯

    A sudden thought struck Mickie, a series of dots that perhaps the urchins could help him connect. It only took the taller man a few short strides to catch up with the burdened child, who turned an irritated eye on him.

    ¡®Yes?¡¯

    ¡®You guys wouldn¡¯t happen to have some sort of library down here, would you?¡¯

    ¡®A library? Does this look like a place of learning to you?¡¯

    The urchin had clearly had enough of him wasting her time and turned back to the trolley.

    ¡®Okay, what about an archive, or a storage of intelligence?¡¯

    With a weary sigh the child stopped and faced him.

    ¡®And what, pray tell, do you need to know?¡¯

    ¡®I want to know about the demons running the show, the houses and their marks.¡¯

    The waylaid urchin squinted up at him.

    ¡®I suppose I could help with that. Won¡¯t take you to our intelligence hub, but I know someone familiar with the various houses up top. Just one problem¡­¡¯

    A small hand waved to the trolley, and she turned to him expectantly. Mickie knew an order when he saw one and stepped up to offer his assistance with a chuckle. Even though he could only push with one arm, the two humans continued down the hall at a steady pace. In fact, free of her charge, Mickie¡¯s new companion underwent a mood shift he found suitable of her physical age, if not her mental maturity.

    ¡®Nice of you to lend a hand.¡¯

    The urchin said as she directed him around a bend.

    ¡®Staying young forever is highly overrated.¡¯

    Mickie found the remainder of the walk an interesting mix of exasperating and informative. The urchin¡¯s name was Agnes, and she had been dead for seventy-four years. In that time she had not aged a day, though apparently it was possible to do so. There were demons who could shift and warp the ages of mortals with some strange power. Agnes assured him however, that she was happy enough the way she was, before contradicting that claim by telling Mickie how lucky he was to have died in his prime.

    ¡®Here we are. Give me a sec would you.¡¯

    The elderly child turned to an unobtrusive door set into the wall of the corridor. She fumbled with the handle and pushed it open, beckoning Mickie through, the laden trolley preceding him inside. Beyond the door lay something akin to a workshop, though one that appeared to have recently experience the passing of a cyclone. Tools were hung crooked from walls and strewn about hap-hazardously on benches. Metal shavings and debris littered the floor, narrow paths cleared for traversal. Mickie pushed the trolley to one side as he gave the mess a glowering look. Agnes strutted into the room with a happy familiarity, shoving aside some detritus to make space on a countertop.

    ¡®Help me unload this thing would you.¡¯

    With a grunt the urchin hefted a box and set it on the cleared bench. Mickie moved to assist, unloading the trolley with significantly more speed.

    ¡®So, you uh, you work here?¡¯

    Agnes met his cautious inquiry with a glower.

    ¡®That I do. You got something to say about it?¡¯

    Wary of the unfulfilled promise of an introduction to someone with answers, Mickie settled for a shrug.

    ¡®Not particularly.¡¯

    The final crate was removed from the trolley and set amongst the piles of tools.

    ¡®Alright, delivery is done, time you introduced me to this contact.¡¯

    Agnes gave the stacked delivery a satisfied look, then dragged a stool out from a workbench. She clambered into it, taking a seat with a weary sigh.

    ¡®Well then. I suppose you have helped me out, ask away.¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯

    Mickie gave the urchin a confused look.

    ¡®Boy, I¡¯ve been under this city since well before you were wetting diapers in the land of the living. Did you think I spent the whole time with my head in the sand?¡¯

    ¡®No, but I thought you were going to introduce me to someone.¡¯

    ¡®And so I have. Her name¡¯s Agnes, best blade Transcriber to every creep below the streets of this stinking city.¡¯

    The urchin¡¯s face was stern, yet the corners of her mouth had an amused tilt that was inexplicable irritating to Mickie. He rubbed his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.

    ¡®Well, I suppose it saves me another trek. Just how familiar are you with the demon houses? Do you know about the older ones?¡¯

    ¡®Of course I know about the older ones. They¡¯re always the most famous.¡¯

    The elderly child responded with a spot of annoyance.

    ¡®What of the fallen houses? Old, but not prevalent anymore.¡¯

    That caught Anges¡¯ attention. She squinted at him in curiosity.

    ¡®Maybe, depends how long ago they bit the bullet.¡¯

    Mickie cleared himself some space and leant against a bench.

    ¡®What can you tell me, about the house of Lilith?¡¯

 18 â€“ Bonds of the Branded

    The halls of the underground warren were quiet when Mickie finally exited Agnes¡¯ workshop. Lights had dimmed on the ceiling above, casting the narrow passageways in a fluorescent twilight. The facility was entering a night cycle, giving the occupants a chance to rest. Even so there was still the occasional urchin about, moving silently past the branded man with only a silent nod of acknowledgement.

    For his part Mickie¡¯s thoughts were heavy with new knowledge, gears grinding in his skull as future options were considered and discarded. A plan was forming, one he suspected he would soon have to put into play. Soon the door to his assigned barracks barred his path, and Mickie contemplated the unadorned metal only briefly before pushing his way inside. Within things were just as he had left them barring Illiath, who was now a gently snoring mass swaddled beneath bedsheets. The mortal man took a bunk low bunk for himself some distance from the gorgon, one that faced the door. You could never be too careful.

    Settled and undistracted as he was, the gentle throbbing of his broken arm made itself known within its sling. He could feel the gradual twist and click of bones realigning beneath his flesh, a shifting cyclical rhythm of pain. It hurt, but in a way that was almost hypnotic. Without realising it the branded man¡¯s eyes closed and he unintentionally slipped into a place buried within. A realm in which Mickie had so recently been trapped.

    Mickie found his soul space to be the exact same as when he had left it when freed of the stone bindings. Everything bar the amorphous power suspended within, which now trickled forth a constant stream of energy. Strange, his gun was not summoned and Illiath had removed his jacket, he did not think he had any powers active. With an abstract effort the mortal felt out the edges of this flow, attempting to gauge its path. He found it did not leave his body, but rather circulated through it, concentrating upon his injured arm and thigh.

    Mickie realised it was his healing powers, drawing from his soul to accelerate the repairs to his body. The power required was small far less that the requirements of his gun or armour. He had failed to notice when his wounds repaired as a statue, likely because the slowed healing reduced the flow to an imperceivable amount. If this was all that was required, then Mickie wondered what might happened if he increased the flow. After all, his gun reloaded faster when he forced more energy through it, perhaps the case was the same here.

    It was, he soon discovered, not the same case for his body. Mickie had called upon his power, willing it forth to flood his mortal flesh. Yet the resistance he felt here was not spongy reluctance of his weapon, but a rigid refusal. Worse still, as he pushed against the barrier, a pressure built behind his eyes. I was as if a storm head were forming in his brain, becoming angrier by the moment as it raged against the bindings of his flesh. It felt wrong, like he was bending an invisible limb the wrong way and this growing pressure was the prelude to a break.

    With a gasp Mickie let the power go, his eyes fluttering open as the storm in his skull settled. It appeared that accelerating his healing was a no go, and he had no idea why. Settling himself back on the bed, Mickie was soon once again adrift in his soul. This time he did not try to call on the unshaped force, instead opting to just float and observe the gentle stream flowing to his body. It was relaxing, and for a time Mickie found peace without needing to empty his restless mind. The twisting rhythm of the healing path coaxed him into a state of meditation in which he was separated from the burden of thought.

    Slowly, he began to drift off, the power¡¯s flow becoming abstract and undefined, strange and untethered. Lines blurred as consciousness faded, lights attenuating amongst one another, the brightness warping to form something new. Just before sleep took Mickie, he saw something in the distorted path, something old yet eerily familiar. It was like the distant howl of an unknown beast, a sensation that awoke the animal in the man, warning him of danger. In the twilight between reality and subconscious he felt, that just as he had noticed the old power, it had noticed him in turn.

    <hr>

    Mickie sat at a large desk of carved bone, bare feet resting atop a small folder. He examined a long, clawed hand, flexing it to stretch bloody red skin while releasing a jaw popping yawn. About him was the d¨¦cor of an office space, and a fancy one at that. Bookshelves lined with leatherbound tomes hemmed the walls to either side of him, interspersed with display cases holding strange artifacts. The floor was carpeted with a soft scarlet thread, subtly shifting as if caught in a sea current.

    Across the room was a heavy wooden door, one that drew his attention as it sounded with the telltale tapping of a knock.

    ¡®Enter.¡¯

    His voice was heavy and rich, like dark chocolate laced with honey. The door slid silently open to permit a figure, one stooped low with submission. With hesitant steps the new arrival stepped forward into the light of a lamp, revealing golden skin and gleaming gemstone eyes.

    ¡®Ah, Sestus, you are back. I hope everything went smoothly?¡¯

    The strange demon bowed low.

    ¡®Yes Lord. The creature is contained above, I completed the rune carving personally.¡¯

    Mickie smiled, satisfied.

    ¡®Good work child. Though I thought I told you to drop the formalities?¡¯

    Sestus stiffened.

    ¡®But, Lord, I¡­¡¯

    ¡®Oh, I know. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll figure it out in time. For now though, I¡¯ll settle for you taking a seat.¡¯

    He waved a hand at a chair on the opposite side of the desk. With visible nervousness Sestus approached, sitting right at the edge of the leather cushion.

    ¡®May I ask the occasion Lord?¡¯

    A deep chuckle resonated through Mickie¡¯s throat.

    ¡®Do I need a reason to have a chat with one of my favourite spawnlings?¡¯

    Gemstone eyes widened in surprise and the branded man felt an amusement that was not trully his own.

    ¡®I¡¯m messing with you. I just wanted to talk to you about the future.¡¯

    ¡®The future?¡¯

    ¡®Indeed, little Sestus. You see, I have gained much from working with the Sovereign up until this point. However, they appear to have fixated upon an invasion of the world above. A goal that does not align with my own.¡¯

    Mickie was casual while addressing the golden demon, drumming sharp claws on carved bone as he spoke. Sestus however, devoured every syllable as if it were the last thing it would ever hear.

    ¡®So, I will be going on a little journey, and I would like you to come along with me. How does that sound?¡¯

    ¡®Of course, Lord. I would be honoured. Where would we be going?¡¯

    With a swift movement Mickie lifted his feet from the desk and swung forward. He rested his chin on a platform of interlocked fingers.

    ¡®We are going to head on up. Right to the first circle. I¡¯ve been meaning to check the lock on the gates.¡¯

    ¡®The gates Lord?¡¯

    ¡®The gates of Hell, Sestus. They¡¯re only meant to open one way, and I think it¡¯s high time we made sure that truly is the case.¡¯

    <hr>

    Awareness returned swiftly, Mickie waking to a small pinch of pain at his neck. In moments he was out of the bed and on his feet, scanning for threats.

    ¡®It¡¯s about time you got lazy bones moving kid.¡¯

    The voice was squeaky and familiar, coming from the pillows at the head of his bed. Mickie found Miz-Mag glaring up with a stern look from the pillow.

    ¡®Did you just jab me in the neck?¡¯

    Irritated as he was, Mickie failed to moderate his tone. Too late he realised his mistake as a bundle of blankets shifted across the barracks.

    ¡®Huh? What¡¯s that?¡¯

    Kalistra sat up, blinking about the room without her glasses on. The mortal¡¯s eyes fell to his toes immediately.

    ¡®Morning. You uh, mind putting the glasses back on?¡¯

    ¡®What? Oh, right.¡¯

    He waited for the affirmative before risking another glance. The gorgon was giving him an inquiring look, the snakes that made up her hair drowsy and limp.

    ¡®Sorry about that. Miz-Mag decided it was time for me to wake up.¡¯

    ¡®Well kid, didn¡¯t want to hang about in suspense, did I? I can see that you made it and all, but I need details.¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s eyes widened, and she cast about the room.

    ¡®The demon from your deal is here? Where?¡¯

    Miz-Mag rolled its eyes.

    ¡®You told her about the deal? Why not just put a public service announcement out while you¡¯re at it.¡¯

    Mickie ignored his partner.

    ¡®Mag is on my bed, but you won¡¯t be able to see or hear it.¡¯

    The gorgon turned her attention to the unmade mess from which he had just risen. From the tangle of sheets, a tiny red fiend made a rude gesture.

    ¡®Strange. You know, if Sestus had not confirmed its existence, I would be inclined to think you were lying.¡¯

    Kalistra said, eliciting a cry of outrage from the tiny fiend. Miz-Mag abruptly darted from the bed, dashing across the room towards the gorgon. Mickie knew what the fiend intended, but figured it was the best way to quash any doubts that she might have. A gasp abruptly cut through the momentary silence as Miz-Mag drove a clawed hand into the gorgon¡¯s arm.

    ¡®Ah! What in the nine was that?¡¯

    She turned about, looking for the source of a small cut as it welled with blood. The perpetrator was already gone though, cackling its way back to Mickie.

    ¡®That would be Mag. It has a bit of a complex about being invisible.¡¯

    ¡®Watch it kid, or I¡¯ll jab worse than your neck the next time you sleep.¡¯

    Miz-Mag returned to his shoulder, grumbling the entire time while Kalistra stood cautiously, keep a wary eye on her surrounds. Mickie found his eyes drifting to the mark on the gorgon¡¯s forehead, a reminder of what he had discovered the night before.

    ¡®Nothing from Sestus then? Surely it must be time to head out soon. Should we go looking?¡¯

    The serpentine warrior was intent on the door, but Mickie called her back.

    ¡®Actually Kalistra, I had something I wanted to discuss with you. Something about the mark on your forehead.¡¯

    Immediately she stiffened, any remaining relaxation her rest had imparted drained as if it had never been.

    ¡®Mickie, I told you I cannot speak on the specifics. I am bound to silence.¡¯

    ¡®I know you can¡¯t say anything about your deal, and you don¡¯t have to. I just need an answer to a question, one that I believe you should be able to give.¡¯

    He got a wary look, but the gorgon did not object.

    ¡®I want to know if anything will happen if someone figures out who you made a deal with. You won¡¯t be revealing anything personally, so it should be fine right?¡¯

    Kalistra stood silently for a few moments, before giving a cautious reply.

    ¡®I would be fine if someone found out independently. It has happened before.¡¯

    ¡®And this person can reveal the fact to you?¡¯

    A slow nod.

    ¡®Yes, but I can neither confirm nor deny if they have the truth of it.¡¯

    ¡®Good.¡¯

    Mickie breathed a sigh of relief. At the very least he would be able to communicate his plan. The mortal man leant against a bunk frame and stared into a wall. To be safe he should not look at Kalistra while speaking, if he read something from her expression it might count as her revealing something.

    ¡®I believe, and I am almost certain of this, that Illiath is the demon you made a deal with.¡¯

    Silence gripped the room momentarily.

    ¡®By the blood kid! That sneak is her master? Oh, that ain¡¯t ideal.¡¯

    He cut Miz-Mag off with a raised finger.

    ¡®During the first escape attempt Mag and I made we were stopped by Illiath. For some reason the demon revealed its name to us, alongside the fact it was a descendant of Lillith. At the time I had no idea why, thought it was bragging maybe. Probably knew we were being sent to you, and wanted us to know who we had lost to. Vanity or pride or something.¡¯

    Mickie drummed his fingers against his leg as he ordered his thoughts.

    ¡®Anyway. I had a conversation last night with an urchin, one who has been in this city a fair while. She told me about the house of Lillith, even drew me its mark.¡¯

    He pulled a folded piece of paper from a pocket and flattened it out on a hand. Inked clearly on the crumpled surface was an image of a large snake coiling about itself to form a ring. Within this serpentine circle a crescent hung above an inverted cross, surrounded by a few strange symbols.

    ¡®The house of the crescent moon they used to call it. The urchin told me that there were no surviving demons, they all had been irradicated during the fall of the Soul Lord.¡¯

    With a deft motion he returned the paper to his pocket.

    ¡®So, I asked about your mark. Apparently, it¡¯s one of the biggest mysteries in the city. The question of who the arena¡¯s champion serves. My urchin friend guessed what I was thinking, and assured me your master could not be of Lillith¡¯s fallen house. She said she had thought of that herself, but there were simply no demons left.¡¯

    On his shoulder Miz-Mag had settled and listened quietly. Mickie hoped Kalistra was being just as attentive.

    ¡®Except there is a demon left. One who is apparently hiding the fact they are from a supposedly dead house, and what their mark actually looks like.¡¯

    That concluded his explanation of how he knew. All the facts but the slight tell he had noticed in Kalistra when Illiath¡¯s name came up yesterday. It would be best if she thought she had given nothing away. Next came the plan.

    ¡®Now, I¡¯m no expert on demon psychology, but Illiath did not strike me as the sort to let a prize possession just walk away. Not only that, but from what I saw Belphegor do with a fighter during my first escape, if our shadowy friend so much as reaches earshot they could force their bound to switch sides.¡¯

    Finally, Mickie looked away from the wall and towards Kalistra. The gorgon looked caught between a desire to flee, and the guilty need to stay and hear him out. Clearly, she had reached a similar conclusion to him.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡®If we can somehow get through the rest of the city without seeing Illiath, then that¡¯s great. But, if we do run into them, we need to have a few precautions in place.¡¯

    The mortal laid out the first few steps of his plan. With her tongue bound, Kalistra could neither agree or disagree, only hold her silence as he laid it all out. He would just have to hope that she did as he asked. Truth be told, they might not even run into the shadowy fiend on their way out of the city. Yet Mickie doubted it would be so simple. Illiath had just been sabotaged by the urchins during an assassination attempt, only to then have their bound champion pulled out from right under their nose. He would be stupid to think the demon would hold back when came to hunting them down.

    ¡®Kid, are you nuts? Is this snake lady really worth the risk she poses, or the target she paints on our backs?¡¯

    Mickie had known Miz-Mag was going to kick up a stink about this. Yet he could not explain himself here, not with Illiath around.

    ¡®Later.¡¯

    He murmured, so low that only his demonic partner could hear. Miz-Mag gave him an irritated look, but relented with a frustrated sigh.

    ¡®By the blood, this better not be because you¡¯re lovestruck or something. She turns people to stone with a look kid, you can¡¯t fix her.¡¯

    Mickie chuckled softly and began to work his recently broken arm. It was stiff, but no longer painful enough to need the immobilisation of the sling. He worked free of the wrapping, tossing them idly onto a bed as he worked his hand. That charge shot really had been something. Blew his gun right out of his hand and nearly took him along with it. Mickie called to the weapon, and found a resistance to the summoning, same as his clothes whenever they were damaged. Not unexpected, he had basically used it as a directed hand grenade.

    Figuring now was as good of a time as any, Mickie siphoned off his power to call forth the weapon. It was delivered to him with a bout of fatigue that had the branded man plonking back down into bed. The action drew Kalistra from a grim introspection.

    ¡®What was that? The power just now?¡¯

    ¡®Hmm?¡¯

    He raised a groggy eyebrow before catching on

    ¡®Oh, just some repairs.¡¯

    Mickie waived the gun about before dismissing it.

    ¡®Takes it out of me though.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, that was strange.¡¯

    The gorgon gave a slow shake of her head, frustration becoming evident.

    ¡®This plan of yours. It¡¯s insane. I just don¡¯t see how¡­¡¯

    A knock echoed abruptly through the room, cutting her off mid-sentence. As Kalistra was closer to the threshold she stepped over and swung open the door to reveal an unfamiliar urchin. The child stood with a rigid, disciplined posture and wasted no time in informing them that it was time to go and that Sestus was waiting. They hurried through halls that were once more buzzing with activity.

    Rather than head for the central office, their eternally youthful guide delivered them to a larger chamber. The space appeared to be some sort of staging ground, with urchins gearing up all about them. To one side a golden demon viewed the preparations with a dead, gemstone eyes. Sestus turned to them as they approached, cracking an eerie grin as it noticed Miz-Mag.

    ¡®Ah, my little friend, it is good to see you up and about.¡¯

    The diminutive demon waved a red hand from its human¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡®Hey old boy. I see you met my partner here. Made a mess of the plan didn¡¯t he.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave Mickie¡¯s ear a pat while Sestus chuckled.

    ¡®He certainly did, but it worked out well in the end I think.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, don¡¯t worry there. He¡¯ll find a way to blow apart the next phase in no time.¡¯

    The golden demon laughed at the dirty look he gave Miz-Mag.

    ¡®Sestus, I assume we¡¯re about to move out.¡¯

    ¡®That we are. It¡¯s time to head up and slip away from this district. Reports are in that old Belphegor is done combing the streets above.¡¯

    If Kalistra was even going to contemplate his plan, she would need to gather what they required now, before they left the underground base. Mickie glance about and failed to spot the gorgon. She must have slipped away at some stage during walk over. The mortal man returned his attention to Sestus, finding the demon¡¯s gemstones eyes watching him with an unnerving intensity.

    A memory at the sparked at the sight, cutting through the sleepy haze that had fogged over his dream from the previous night. With it came a conversation, one between himself and the golden fiend scrutinizing him with unearthly attention. Except, the mortal was realising, that hadn¡¯t truly been him in the dream, had it? Mickie flexed his branded hand. During their last talk, Sestus had indicated that it was helping him climb because that was what the Soul Lord intended. Recalling the servile golden fiend from his dream, Mickie realised that was likely the case.

    ¡®Everything alright Mickie? You seem a little distracted.¡¯

    He focussed back upon the glinting gemstone eyes and their amorphous irises of twisting darkness.

    ¡®Yeah. You sure we won¡¯t find any enforces outside?¡¯

    ¡®Certain. Wouldn¡¯t risk it otherwise. Now where did that gorgon friend of yours get to?¡¯

    The recollection of the dream opened a floodgate for Mickie, and as they waited for Kalistra to return he began to recall his time spent as a statue. He knew there had been multiple visions, vague impressions of faces and places came to him. There had been a woman in a field, a winged man trapped in ice, and a pale demon with hair that floated as if in water. He tried to gather specifics, but it was like grasping smoke. The chaos of the time following his incarceration had obscured the visions too deeply, his mind letting them slip away as it did with most dreams.

    It was frustrating, Mickie should have put more effort into remembering. If last night was any indication, these visions held value. They were a glimpse into a past that was not his own, the memories of the Soul Lord if he had to guess. Mickie had no idea why he was seeing them, it certainly was not common for those who made deals. Not only that, but his mark was not the true mark of the Soul Lord. It was Miz-Mag¡¯s, a derivative of the dead demon¡¯s.

    Kallistra¡¯s arrival beside him drew Mickie from his thoughts and brought a close to Sestus and Miz-Mag¡¯s idle chatter. The gorgon did not acknowledge where she had been, focusing instead upon their golden guide.

    ¡®Shall we set off?¡¯

    If Sestus was taken aback by her lacking explanation, the fiend did not show it. With a low chuckle it brought its hands together in a surprisingly loud clap.

    ¡®Alright kids. Time to move. Let¡¯s get some feelers out there.¡¯

    Immediately a number of urchins bustled to a large set of doors at the end of the hall. They were dressed lightly, unarmoured and without packs. Scouts, if Mickie had to guess. The exit creaked open and the swift footed children vanished into the darkness beyond, not even taking out lamps to light the way. Sestus waved Mickie¡¯s group over to a couple of rucksacks heavy with some prepackaged load. Besides the packs were two bundles of dark cloth. The leader of the urchins tossed the folded fabric to Mickie and Kalistra.

    ¡®Best to keep the eyes off you two. Put these on.¡¯

    The fabric ballooned as he caught it, unfurling into a hooded robe. It made sense that they should have some form of disguise on, both he and Kalistra were highly recognizable. After donning the covering he moved to the pack, shouldering it after giving Miz-Mag a moment to move. He settled the weight as Kalistra took up her own burden.

    ¡®What¡¯s in these?¡¯

    Sestus shrugged.

    ¡®Supplies for the plan. It¡¯s a long journey to the city¡¯s edge so it¡¯s best to be prepared.¡¯

    The demon picked up a small pack of its own to carry.

    ¡®Ah, before I forget. I have a gift for you, madam Stone Eye.¡¯

    ¡®Oh?¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s raised an eyebrow, the snakes upon her head swivelling to focus upon Sestus. The golden fiend rummaged about in its pack for a moment before pulling a pair of sunglasses free. It tossed them over to the gorgon with a flourish.

    ¡®To replace that travesty that you are currently wearing.¡¯

    She plucked the accessory from the air and examined it.

    ¡®You realise the set I currently wear is all that protects you and your urchins.¡¯

    ¡®I could hardly forget. This pair is made from the same material as those you currently wear. Though the frame itself should hold up a bit better than that flimsy plastic.¡¯

    The gorgon turned away from them briefly, switching out the undersized glasses for a set of large lens aviators.

    ¡®Much more suitable, I must say.¡¯

    Mickie had to agree. While the other glasses had done their job, they had been far too small for the serpentine warrior. Sized for the imps in the control room of her prison. With her clean-cut attire and new aviators, Kalistra appeared somewhat like an off-duty fighter pilot. At least, she might have if not for the robe draped about her shoulders.

    ¡®Sir. Passage is clear.¡¯

    An urchin jogged out of the dark tunnel and called across the room to Sestus. The golden demon rolled its shoulders.

    ¡®Alrighty then. Let¡¯s move out.¡¯

    <hr>

    The mixed band of demons and mortals jogged through a tunnel far broader than the one through which Mickie had arrived. Occasionally some of their eternally youthful companions would peel away and disappear along adjacent passages, moving with the surety of a rehearsed action. Kalistra asked what they were up to, but their golden guide did not respond.

    Sestus had undergone a shift in demeanour once they entered the tunnel. Gone was the laidback leader that mostly allowed its underlings to go about their buisness undisturbed. In its place was a focussed commander, more akin to the demon Mickie had encounter while sleeping. The group, now significantly reduced in number, reached the end of their larger tunnel. Sestus had a small band follow them through a narrow offshoot that led to a ladder.

    A cramped bout of climbing and crawling followed before the urchin at the head of the party waved a halt. The hooded figure slipped up to an innocuous section of wall running fingers along stone. There came the irregular clicking of latches before the wall swung inwards, spilling light into the passage. They emerged right beside the base of the craggy stone cliff hemming the city district. A building was pressed tight against the vertical rockface, and the band stepped out from a panel in its wall. As an urchin clicked the door shut Sestus whispered hurried directions to Mickie and Kalistra.

    ¡®Make sure you follow close behind me. We¡¯ll stick to the wall and head for that highway.¡¯

    A golden hand pointed to one of the slanted paths upward, towering above the district as much as the cliff did. They set off through the tight grid of alleyways and side streets, the mortal and gorgon following Sestus closely while urchins branched out in small groups. Occasionally Mickie would catch a glimpse of shrouded figures between buildings. They were travelling together, but not so close enough to draw the attention a larger group might. It was an effective technique, but one that should have been almost impossible to coordinate in the absence of active communication. These urchins were no slouches.

    The industrial hub about them was awash in activity, but not the working kind. Demons and humans alike milled about in small groups, speaking in hushed tones. They paid little heed to his small band, only every taking notice when they got too close, quiet chatter replaced by wary looks. Even with the added caution of the residents, Mickie could still make out the occasional snippet of their conversation. Talk of the chain falling from the spire, of Belphegor¡¯s forces sweeping the streets and the fire that consumed the hive.

    As far as he could tell, no one actually knew what was going on. Rumours abounded, though a theory more prevalent than others was that the urchins had struck at the insectile city district. That they had eradicated the leading house of the hive and started the fires that even now ragged through the district. Mickie glanced at Sestus when he first heard this, but if their guide had picked up on the conversation it gave nothing away. He and Kallistra had been told that it was a plot by Belphegor and Illiath to kill the hive¡¯s queen. Had that been a lie? Or was some other game being played?

    With little else to do as they hurried along, the branded man pulled at the problem. He knew for certain that a force had been engaged at the insectile hive. The absence of a force in the aftermath of the chain¡¯s collapse being a clear indicator. He also knew there had been a plot afoot. Miz-Mag had said as much, and he trusted the little fiend enough not to lie about it. So why was everyone saying the urchins eradicated the insects? That was a rumour with serious implications, and not one that would spring up without pretext. Not only that but Mickie had not heard a peep about the lazy lord or its lackey¡¯s involvement. How had Belphegor avoided attracting even a little suspicion? It clicked.

    ¡®A scapegoat.¡¯

    He breathed the words in little more than a murmur, but it was enough to draw Miz-Mag¡¯s attention.

    ¡®What¡¯s that kid?¡¯

    Mickie cast a quick look to his companions. While he appeared to have had gained Kalistra¡¯s ear, Sestus continued to move with unhurried purpose.

    ¡®You hear what they¡¯re saying about the hive?¡¯

    ¡®Yep. Apparently, the urchins squashed all the bugs.¡¯

    His partner snickered. The gorgon seemed to be thinking along a similar line as Mickie though, jumping into the conversation.

    ¡®It seems to be the main topic of conversation. You think Belphegor is behind it?¡¯

    ¡®I do.¡¯

    Miz-Mag cast the two of them a dirty look.

    ¡®Behind what? You guys talking in code or something?¡¯

    They turned about a tall warehouse as Mickie gave a soft sigh.

    ¡®The urchin rumour was likely planted. If I had to guess the insects might actually have all been killed. Though not by the urchins, but Belphegor.¡¯

    Finally, his tiny companion seemed to get it.

    ¡®Oh, right! Because Illiath got caught in the act.¡¯

    ¡®Exactly. It probably wouldn¡¯t be a good look for Belphegor to be caught assassinating another house head. The demon already has control over large swathes of the city, I bet the other powers would not be happy about it grasping for more.¡¯

    ¡®So, Bel kills all the bugs and blames it on the urchins. By the blood, that old boy certainly doesn¡¯t half arse things.¡¯

    Mickie agreed. It was the ruthless kind of play that the nastiest and most effective leader might have made during his old life. The kind that either kept the things on the rails or blew the whole plan off a cliff. Perhaps if Mickie could get evidence of the cover up to other houses he could incite a war, give himself a good chance to escape. It was a pleasant thought, though one he quickly discarded. He had no concrete evidence, and no method of contacting the other leaders.

    ¡®Sestus. You should be wary. It is likely the demon houses will come after the urchins. At the very least Belphegor¡¯s will, if only to sell the lie.¡¯

    Kalistra cut through his musings, coaxing a response from the golden demon.

    ¡®I wouldn¡¯t worry. We¡¯ve been hiding from the bigshots in this city for a good while, we can manage a little heat.¡¯

    A touch of joviality ad returned to the fiend, but it was quickly quashed.

    ¡®Now quiet, the lot of you. We are almost there.¡¯

    As the sloped highway began to loom above, the disparate cloaked patrols closed in around them. Soon they were a larger force moving through a haggard portion of the district. Fewer individuals were on the streets, and they all avoided the hooded cohort like the plague.

    Up close Mickie realised that the raised slope between tiers was not a solid wall like the cliff. Rather, hefty metal beams supported the road, leaving a dark space that the lights of the black city struggled to penetrate. It was into this that their group journeyed.

    The area within was like another city district entirely, one not owned by a fiend of power and means. Lean-tos of dented metal sheets blocked the denizens from view. Most did not even bother with roofs, preferring to put up walls for privacy and security. Not like it was going to rain in this cavernous realm. The streets were littered with hunched figures, gaunt and ragged as the surrounding houses. Mickie eyed the occupants warily as they progressed.

    ¡®Does Belphegor own this place too?¡¯

    Mickie knew he should remain quiet, but his curiosity about the eerie locale loosened his tongue.

    ¡®Technically, yes.¡¯

    It was an urchin off to one side that answered, voice little more than a whisper.

    ¡®Belphegor owns the districts to either side of the highway here. Normally a place like this would be cleared and patrolled by the two opposing houses. But old Bel has no need. Instead, it¡¯s used as a trash bin for the lost.¡¯

    ¡®The lost?¡¯

    He did not get a response. The urchin went silent the after a glare from Sestus, and Mickie followed suit. While he may not have received an answer, it was pretty clear that the urchin had been referring to the listless locals. They were not like the usual occupants of the shanty town¡¯s that Mickie remembered. Those had been places brimming with a kind of frenetic chaos, whereas the underside of the road contained only silence and darkness

    They reached a small opening between hap-hazardous dwellings and came to a stop. The leading urchins seemed intent on the stone cliff , focussed on a point where the rock jutted out at the base. The mortal made his way over alongside Kalistra, attempting to figure out what had caught their interest. Sestus indicated a shadowy gap in the stone, a recess concealing what appeared to be a series of hand and footholds.

    ¡®Time to climb. Follow me closely, both of you.¡¯

    Then, without further pre-amble, Sestus clambered up the wall. The gorgon was close behind, but Mickie turned back before following, taking a moment to examine the dreary darkness beneath the sloped highway. His eyes caught on a bundle of rags, clothing unable to completely conceal the gaunt white flesh beneath. It was a person, so still that they might be dead. Glassy eyes stared unblinking from a face devoid of expression and emotion. A sudden slap to his lower back caused Mickie to jump.

    ¡®Come on buddy, get a move on.¡¯

    The urchin behind him gave the stone cliff a meaningful nod, irritation visible beneath the hood. Mickie did as he was bid, turning to the rock face and beginning to climb.

    <hr>

    Clambering up the cliff was no easy feat, made doubly difficult by the pervasive darkness beneath the ramp. Mickie could understand why they were climbing here, the rock wall was slanted and the shadows concealed them from prying eyes. Yet his recently broken arm made itself known with a spike of pain whenever he put too much weight on it. It took some time but eventually the branded man managed to empty his mind and focus solely and the next handhold, the next foot placement, and the next, and on, and on.

    A scaled hand swung into view, dragging Mickie from his monotonous ascension. He took the proffered limb and Kalistra hauled him the up last foot or so by his good arm. They stood on a narrow ledge right below the main body of the ramp, tucked away out of sight. Sestus was waiting off to one side, huddled in the shadows. Mickie turned to look out over the ledge, preparing to help the next climber as Kalistra had aided him. Except there was no one else.

    ¡®Just us from here on out I¡¯m afraid. Climb¡¯s too risky to drag everyone else up with us.¡¯

    The gemstone eyed fiend answered before he even got a chance to open his mouth. It looked like Sestus was posted up by their passage onwards, a tunnel running beneath the hulking highway. Mickie made to approach, but Kalistra caught his attention. The gorgon was standing by the edge of the overhanging metal and concrete construct, staring out over the district they had just escaped. He came up to stand alongside her, a low whistle humming in one of his ears.

    ¡®By the nine, you two did some real damage huh?¡¯

    Miz-Mag was not prone to understatements, yet Mickie felt his companion had undersold the damage laid bare before him. A jagged scar cut through the city district, marking the path their chain had taken through homes and workplaces alike. Yet that was not the worst of it. When the large mass of metal had hit the stone cliff it had done more than just slide onwards. A huge portion of the rock face was gone, collapsing onto the city beneath. The rockslide did far more damage than the chain had managed with its narrow trajectory.

    ¡®It can happen to anyone.¡¯

    Kalistra abruptly broke the silence, not turning towards him but keeping her gaze locked upon the ruin they had wrought.

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    Mickie asked.

    ¡®The lost. I know you saw the mortals below. It¡¯s one of the curses of this realm, a product of an endless existence. You lose the will to live yet cannot die. An eternity spent as an empty husk.¡¯

    He frowned out at the district.

    ¡®Is that why they all looked so messed up?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. I¡¯m sure you know by now that food is not required for survival in hell. Bodies do not wither without sustenance as they do in your living world. Here, the body is more a representation of the soul, and if the soul fades, so does the body it inhabits.¡¯

    Mickie said nothing to that, just rubbed his branded hand. When Kalistra next spoke her voice was soft, tired as old cobwebs.

    ¡®They have a name for it, for the desire to feel nothing. The call of the lost.¡¯

    She glanced at him.

    ¡®Spend long enough down hear and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll get to know it.¡¯

    Mickie did not tell her that he already had, out on the ice of the ninth circle. Even now though, he saw the appeal that must have seduced the lost at the base of the cliff. The desire for an end, mingled with the fear of dying for a second time. In the distance a finger of smoke curled upwards from the burning hive. Mickie followed its path until it vanished from sight, curling behind the huddled buildings below.

    ¡®Do you regret it?¡¯

    Kalistra asked abruptly.

    ¡®Regret what?¡¯

    She nodded to the rent district. Mickie looked at the damage they had caused, thinking of the mortals and demons that had perished. He pushed it all away.

    ¡®No. Do you?¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s hand drifted to the brand upon her brow.

    ¡®I¡­ I have things I need to do. I spent too long in that damned arena.¡¯

    There was a hard edge to her voice.

    ¡®Everyone in this city is a lost in the making anyway. We did them a favour by putting an end to it all.¡¯

    With a stiff turn the gorgon headed for Sestus and the tunnel onwards. Mickie cast an eye one last time over the pain they had caused. From up here it was almost like a model set that had been subjected to the ire of a toddler. Yet, Mickie recalled the flashing faces he had seen while cutting through some of those houses. Shock and fear the only emotion he would ever know them to have. The weight of it fell on his shoulders, another stone on the pile. Mickie turned from the district, there would more to come if he was going to see this through.

 19 â€“ Edge of the Dark

    The tunnel beneath the highway turned out to be a service passage. Dusty and dim, Sestus assured them that it only ever saw real use when something had gone wrong with the road above. The urchins had put considerable effort into duplicating the swipe cards that provided access to what was a generally restricted space. The gemstone eyed fiend informed them that it was a small part of an extensive library that aided the eternally youthful gang¡¯s mobility. More than any underground base, it was this cumulative access to unused spaces that made the group so effective. Traversal between tiers of the city would be the largest obstacle to stealth, and Mickie had no doubt their guide had more than one way up.

    Their little group eventually swapped the service tunnel for a sprawling housing district of stacked tenements. As far as suburbs in hell went, this one was nicely ordered, with concrete buildings and square blocks laid out in a grid of intersecting paths. In fact, everything was so symmetrical it bordered on unnerving. At times it felt as if they were moving in circles, prompting the occasional glance over the shoulder from everyone but Sestus.

    As they walked ever onwards the ramp at the far end of the district began to loom large. This time, instead of the another climb Sestus led them through a second service passage, sneaking by the guards at the shadowed border. It was in the adjacent district that the group finally turned their heading towards the city¡¯s upper levels. Sestus ushered them into a run-down warehouse, tucked away in the shadow of the highway. The inside was a poorly lit depot, housing a bulky transport in the process of being loaded.

    ¡®You cut it close, Sestus.¡¯

    Though deeper than Mickie remembered, the voice was a familiar dead monotone, one that raised Mickie¡¯s hackles. Miz-Mag started in alarm on his shoulder.

    ¡®Kid, that¡¯s¡­¡¯

    ¡®Mechanist.¡¯

    He hissed. In an instant his gun was raised towards the shadow recesses of the warehouse, waiting for movement.

    ¡®By the nine! Don¡¯t shoot!¡¯

    Sestus waved at him to put the gun away, but Mickie ignored the golden fiend.

    ¡®How strange, you truly are invisible to my sensors, yet I can hear you clearly. Not only that but you know of the progenitor. Then this must be the one rumoured to have come from the palace.¡¯

    A large form shifted in the dark, stepping forward with a heavy clank of steel. The mortal¡¯s sights were on the machine in an instant, finger resting on the trigger. Lights reflected off grimy, dented steel as the robot came to a stop, just far enough into the dim glow that Mickie could make out its tri-legged body.

    ¡®You¡¯re one of the mining bots.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, you have seen my kind before? Out on the ice I assume?¡¯

    Mickie was not going to be the one answering questions.

    ¡®How are you here machine?¡¯

    This was the first Mechanist made robot he had seen in some time, certainly since he had arrived in the city. He had no idea what had happened to the remaining machines in the palace since their master died. Until now his best guess was that they had all dropped dead or gone insane.

    ¡®I am here because I live here. As I have since I escaped the progenitor.¡¯

    Mickie doubted that the palace¡¯s dead machine caretaker would be willing to allow any of it¡¯s spawn to roam free. No only that, but he knew from experience that the Mechanist could store itself in the bodies of it¡¯s creations. If there was even a shred of it in this mining bot, Mickie would turn it into scrap, escape plans be damned.

    ¡®And how do I know you don¡¯t have a bit of the Mechanist rattling round inside?¡¯

    ¡®Impossible. The progenitor is dead.¡¯

    It took a moment for the words to sink in, yet they did, like needles into flesh. The only way the machine could know that was if it had been in the palace right before the lockdown.

    ¡®So, you want revenge?¡¯

    ¡®Mickie! Stop this!¡¯

    Sestus stepped before his weapon, angry for the first time in the short while Mickie had known the demon.

    ¡®You will ruin the plan, our chance to escape. I trust Chink, I¡¯ve known it for years.¡¯

    ¡®Then how does it know about the Mechanist¡¯s death?¡¯

    The machine drawled an answer in its eery monotone.

    ¡®I was born of the progenitor. Escaped it decades ago. Yet the link remained, however faint, however impotent. Then the connection was broken. Something that could only mean the death of my old master.¡¯

    ¡®And I spoke to Chink of it. After Miz-Mag,¡¯ Sestus gave his companion a meaningful look, ¡®told me about your escape.¡¯

    Mickie eyed the fiend on his shoulder. Miz-Mag gave him a nod and a shrug. Slowly, the branded man lowered his weapon, but did not banish it entirely. He refused to place any real trust in this machine, not after his time in the palace.

    ¡®Good.¡¯ Their golden guide breathed a sigh of relief. ¡®Clink you ready to go?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. You have the payment?¡¯

    ¡®I do. Kalistra, Mickie, leave the bags here.¡¯

    Kalistra squinted at the demon.

    ¡®You said these were supplies.¡¯

    ¡®They are supplies, essential for my good friend here. Now leave the bags.¡¯

    Mickie glared at the machine, grip tight on his gun. Miz-Mag gave a sigh of resignation on his shoulder.

    ¡®Look kid, I don¡¯t like it any more than you, but we gotta let this one slide. Especially if this bag of bolts is our way out of the city.¡¯

    The branded man inhaled slowly. His partner was right. They needed to leave this city before Belphegor or Illiath caught their trail. And yet, this machine was of the Mechanist, a parent that he had helped kill. If it had emotions, would it seek revenge? Or did it hold no affection for the being that had given it life?

    With a scowl Mickie banished his gun and turned about to dump his pack. There was also the fact of this machine¡¯s apparent intelligence. He could not recall any robot other than the Mechanist being able to speak, nor any that showed much inclination towards independence.

    They did not pile into the cab or tray of the bulky vehicle. Rather, Chink grasped an innocuous panel and pulled it aside to reveal a cramped crawl space. It was hunched between bulky pipework segments, barely providing enough space for them all to sit. The group clambered in with Kalistra taking the lead, followed by Sestus, then Mickie. Outside the worn miner hoisted the panel back into place.

    ¡®The journey will take approximately one hour and thirty-seven minutes. Prepare yourself.¡¯

    They were sealed inside with a click, Mickie noticing that light still filtered through slots in the metal seal. He brought his eyes near to it and discovered a narrow view of their surroundings. When the truck rumbled to life and the view shifted from dim warehouse to haggard streets, Mickie made his ire known.

    ¡®You should have told me about this before.¡¯

    He jostled about to nail Sestus with an angry glare.

    ¡®And how would you have reacted? Poorly, if your showing just now is anything to go by.¡¯

    ¡®I would have listened.¡¯

    The golden fiend sighed.

    ¡®Yes, then you might have refused to go. An outcome we could not afford.¡¯

    Mickie glared, but could not refute the demon. It was true that if he had known who would be smuggling them in advance, he might have made his own way.

    ¡®I¡¯ve known Clink for a long time. They¡¯re odd, but they hold to a deal. I paid well to get us up and into the final tier, and that machine always delivers.¡¯

    ¡®But how do you know you can trust it? Machines do not have emotions like we do. Just because it has yet to betray you does not mean that it won¡¯t.¡¯

    It was Kalistra who spoke up. For the most part she had treated their current situation with reserved indifference. Only once their path out was secured did she make her stance known.

    ¡®Not you too.¡¯

    Sestus released a breath.

    ¡®Look, I told you that the final tier of the city is guarded, not just the paths to the four towers, but every district. It was always going to be, Belphegor does not let pets to slip the leash. Even before he freed Kalistra, Mickie was going to have a bounty on his head.¡¯

    The trucked halted, and Sestus went silent along with the grumbling engine. Voices came from outside, too faint to discern, the high chatter of an imp followed by a monotone reply from Chink. Whatever had been said must have been satisfactory, for they were soon moving again, turning out of the district and onto the sloped highway.

    ¡®I understand the plan. I just do not think your faith in this machine is warranted.¡¯

    Kalistra picked up the conversation once they had cleared the checkpoint.

    ¡®I don¡¯t get why the machine does it, but Chink is the perfect smuggler. No poker face to break, no cool to lose. Miz-Mag surely you¡­¡¯

    Sestus cast about the small space for the red fiend but came up short.

    ¡®Where¡¯s our friend.¡¯

    Mickie cracked a knowing smile.

    ¡®Unlike you, Mag doesn¡¯t take the robot¡¯s word at face value. Little guy is up in the driver¡¯s cab, keeping an eye on things.¡¯

    ¡®Smart move.¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s approval seemed to vex Sestus, the demon releasing a long sigh.

    ¡®I suppose it is. Now, as riveting as this conversation has been, I think we should stick to silence for the remainder of the journey. It would be embarrassing if our bickering gave us away once we reach the upper city.¡¯

    It was as close to an admission of defeat as they were going to get from their golden guide. The group fell into a barbed silence, each doing their best to ignore the uncomfortable proximity of the others. Mickie was still irritated at Sestus¡¯ lack of communication, but found his anger fading as he watched the city roll by through the slots in the panel.

    The plan itself made sense from an analytical standpoint, otherwise he would never have agreed when Sestus gave them the broad strokes. However, now he was on the move Mickie found himself constantly on edge. Stranger still, he had made and acted on plans with far less thought and significantly more risk. Perhaps that was just it though, they had been his plans. It was the lack of control in this escape that got to Mickie, more than any reminder of the Mechanist.

    His assisting the Kindle Kin in their fight for the palace had been little more than a spur of the moment decision. Even worse was his and Miz-Mag¡¯s initial plan to escape the spire, a rushed scheme which had failed. In both of those cases he had been the one holding the cards, calling the shots. Even when he had woken in the spire after being turned to stone, he had made the plan his own. Freeing Kalistra when it might have been a smarter move to flee immediately.

    Mickie was not so self-absorbed that he failed to see the cause of his frustration. As the seventh layer of the sunken city rolled by and they approached the eighth, he did his best to push away the lingering frustration. There was still much to come before they reached the urchin¡¯s supposed tunnel out. Sestus had described a hidden path out of the city, one that would require some travel on foot. He could not afford to be a hindrance the entire way.

    The group pulled off the highway and into yet another sprawl of dreary architecture. For a moment the mortal glimpsed the nearby tower leading to the sixth circle, a monolith of metal ascending into darkness. So close, yet still completely out of their reach. Sestus had not lied when it said the structure was blockaded. It was only a glimpse, but Mickie made out the slick glimmer of dark machines, interspersed with huddling figures. Then the view up the sloped highway was gone, and they were pulling into yet another checkpoint.

    While he felt more nervous entering a district than exiting one, the robot got them through with only a brief exchange of words. Beyond was a jumble of derelict grey concrete and dirty streets, populated by mortals and demons as worn as the d¨¦cor. It was the closest thing to a slum that Mickie had seen so far. The shanty town beneath the highway had come close, but it had only looked like slum. This place had the smell and sound of one.

    Mickie was wondering which demonic house owned the district when something caught his eye. A figure in the milling crowds, one that appeared the same as any other downtrodden soul yet drew his attention. His narrow window to see the demon soon passed, and Mickie was left contemplating what had grabbed his attention. The truck took a sharp turn, and he was drawn to yet another demon, this time leaning against a wall nonchalantly.

    What was it about them? Something in the way they held themselves. A tightness gripped the back of his spine, ice sliding down his back. Not one, but two suspicious demons attempting to blend in with the crowd. It could be paranoia, but Mickie¡¯s trusted in his instincts.

    When he caught sight of the next plain clothed demon, the branded man was ready. He catalogued every feature that drew his attention. The fiend stood too taller than its fellow pedestrians, shoulders square and confident. It tracked the movement of their transport, with a scrutiny that stumbled past casual. A clawed hand rose to an ear, as if to scratch an itch. Then the demon¡¯s mouth moved as if it were speaking to someone, and a stone rolled through Mickie¡¯s gut.

    ¡®They know.¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯

    He spoke softly, voice soon drowned by the rumble of their engines. The small sound was still enough to draw startled attention from the crawl space¡¯s other occupants.

    ¡®There¡¯s enforces outside, they know we¡¯re coming.¡¯

    Mickie was certain of it. Those demons on the street were no ordinary denizens. They might appear like any other pedestrian, but he had recognized something in their demeanour. A way of standing, of focussed surveillance, the stance of a hunter. Sestus began to hiss out a surprised question but was cut off by a sudden squeaky shout.

    ¡®By the blood! Kid, it¡¯s them! Belphegor¡¯s lot!¡¯

    Miz-Mag slipped between a narrow gap in the metal sheets above and landed on Mickie¡¯s knee. The tiny fiend looked frantic, golden eyes wide as marbles.

    ¡®I saw one. That snake guy from back when we first got to the city. From when you climbed those pipes. It¡¯s here, on the streets.¡¯

    So, he had been right. It was the enforcers.

    ¡®Miz-Mag are you sure? You recognized this demon?¡¯

    Sestus¡¯ voice had lost any trace of the irritation it held during their argument. Instead, there was the hollow ring of fear to the tone.

    ¡®Of course I¡¯m serious. What are we gonna do kid?¡¯

    ¡®What is it, what¡¯s happening?¡¯

    Kalistra interjected, only catching half the conversation. Despite himself, Mickie felt his lips twitch upwards at the sudden chaos. Their golden ally¡¯s plan had been going too smoothly for too long. Now they were going to do things his way.

    ¡®I¡¯m not sure how but Belphegor got onto us. Could be the driver, could be something else. Doesn¡¯t matter. Either way, we need to get out of this truck and make a break for it.¡¯

    The gorgon cursed as he turned his attention back to the streets, peering through the slits in the panel. They needed an alley, something that they could disappear into to drop any pursuers.

    ¡®Alright. When I say go, we move. I¡¯ll pop the hatch, you all follow me through. Once we¡¯re out Sestus will have to guide¡­¡¯

    A sudden thunderclap echoed through the winding streets of the district, and the engines roared as their truck abruptly spun sideways. The turn was too sudden, too sharp, the vehicle tilting dangerous as Mickie realised they were about to flip. There was a moment of stomach-churning nausea as the group lurched towards Kalistra¡¯s side of the crawl space. Then they were thrown forwards and atop one another as the engines died and the vehicle wailed with the sound of metal on bitumen.

    Mickie was groggy, trying to make sense of what had happened. They had stopped moving, and the truck had somehow fallen onto its side. His body hurt but nothing appeared to be broken, one benefit to being in such a tight space at least. Miz-Mag poked its head out from a fold in his jacket as Sestus squirmed beneath him. The tiny fiend was attempting to say something, but Mickie¡¯s ears were ring too loudly to make it out.

    A word slipped through, read from the lips of the frantic demon. Belphegor. The enforcers. The recollection shot through him with a spike of adrenaline. They needed to move. Mickie twisted about, looking upwards toward the panel that sealed them in. The cramped confines of the crawl space meant he needed to do little more than twist himself upright to reach it. Even that proved to be a challenge however, the two squirming bodies beneath him making movement difficult.

    Mickie shoved at the slitted metal once, twice, then a third times without any noticeable shift in sealed metal. Figuring he couldn¡¯t hear anyway, the branded man called forth his weapon and fired upwards. The volume of it was enough to break through the recovering whine of his ears and reinvite absolute silence, but it worked. They had a way out now, and Mickie dismissed his gun as he reached for the smoking opening.

    With a heave the mortal dragged himself and Sestus out and onto the side of the upturned vehicle. Their ride had veered sideway on the road, nearly sending them straight into an adjacent building. The top of the drivers cab was a scant foot or so from the dreary concrete. Between the two was a space that would serve as a brief shelter, and Mickie dropped a groggy Sestus down into it.

    The sudden crash had clearly not been expected by the residents of the district. They were collectively screaming and fleeing the scene, all bar a few demons. These walked with urgent purpose, pushing through the crowd and towards the smoking wreck. He cursed and twisted back towards the crawl space, aiming to haul Kalistra out aswell. Something punched hard into his bicep, spinning the mortal sideways and off the upturned truck.

    A bullet had clipped him but failed to penetrate, shot from hidden spot on a rooftop. Mickie cursed as he hunched down beside their woozy guide. They had bumbled straight into a trap. The driver, something must have happened to the robot. He tried to catch sight of the mining machine, but the driver¡¯s window was facing towards the enemy. Clink was on its own, he had to prioritise getting Kalistra out.

    Now the gunmen had a bead on the hatch it was going to be hard to get the gorgon out. They would drop her in an instant. Except, that couldn¡¯t be right. The mortal shook his head, willing away the fog clouding his thoughts. These rooftop snipers likely shot their robotic driver, it was probably the reason they had crashed in the first place. If the hidden gunmen could hit a driver in a moving truck, yet failed to shoot him, it was because they had orders not to kill.

    Kalistra would, at the very least, not be shot dead. If they had orders not to finish him then it would be the same for her. A positive development offset by several plain clothing enforces closing on them at this very moment. He would need to risk it to drag her out now. Mickie pulled his jacket over his head and stood, only to find Kalistra clawing her way out of the crawl space. A head emerged from the dark, hood shaken free and glasses half falling from her face.

    Noticing the danger, Mickie turned his head aside even as he reached for his ally. The approaching enforcers however, failed to react in time. Trained professionals and panicked bystanders alike were turned to stone even as the gorgon was dragged aside. Another bullet ricocheted off the vehicle, and Kalistra snapped her head upwards. Mickie did not know if she managed to catch the rooftop shooter in her gaze, because moments later they were toppling backwards into the safety between truck and wall.

    On the ground Sestus appeared groggy but functional, giving them an empty, wide-eyed look. Kalistra shouted something to him, but Mickie could not quite make it out as his ears recovered. He turned to the gorgon, finding she had her sunglasses back in place.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡®What do we do?¡¯

    The second exclamation finally registered.

    ¡®Got to run. Will be more on the way. Sestus, can you move?¡¯

    Only the ground their golden guide gave an unsteady nod and pulled itself upright.

    ¡®Good. Alright. We need to drop these guys and make for the exit tunnel.¡¯

    Mickie secured his hood over his head and waited for the group¡¯s acknowledgement.

    ¡®No, not the tunnel.¡¯

    Sustus seemed slightly dazed, tripping over the words as it spoke them.

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    ¡®Tunnel. Too far. Got an urchin base closer, we¡¯ll head there first. Get backup.¡¯

    The branded man swiped hair from his eyes with a grimy hand.

    ¡®Alright. Base it is. You¡¯ll need to take point though Sestus.¡¯

    The Soul Lords old lackey gave a shaky nod and staggered towards the far end of the overturned vehicle. Clearly tired of its position in his jacket, Miz-Mag scampered out and onto his shoulder.

    ¡®Seems about standard for us, doesn¡¯t it?¡¯

    ¡®Sure does.¡¯

    He addressed the group.

    ¡®On my mark.¡¯

    The clamour of the crowds had disappeared. Yet all was not quiet, already Mickie could hear the approach of their pursuers. He threw a glance at the cab of the truck. No movement or noise had come from within since the crash. If the machine had double crossed them then it had chosen poorly.

    ¡®Set.¡¯

    He moved to the edge of the cover and peered out. Clear for now, it was go time.

    ¡®Mark.¡¯

    And they were off.

    <hr>

    A trio of figures in ragged robes hobbled along a dirty alley, keeping to the shadows with hoods raised. Any onlooking denizen of the district would think them just another local fleeing the nearby attack. Tensions had been high all throughout the city following the chain¡¯s fall and the hive¡¯s burning. The recent attack within their own haggard slice of darkness reminded all the residents just how little life meant in their slice of darkness. Not only that, but the word had spread that armed enforcers were combing the streets, hunting teams with dog-like Slithestra leading the charge. It was enough to send anyone running for the safety of home.

    It had not been easy to lose the enforcers, they only made it with Sestus¡¯ knowledge of the area. The golden demon knew all the right alleys to dash through and all the best places with crowds in which they could disappear. Even then it had been close. There had been more than one rooftop shooter, and their constant bombardment and communication kept the ground forces on the group¡¯s heels. Having finally slipped free, they were almost at the nearby urchin base where they could hide until everything blew over.

    ¡®We¡¯re getting close. Got a secondary entrance we can use.¡¯

    The paths the group walked grew ever more absent of life, until finally they alone padded down a street nearly as dark as the cavernous ceiling far above. Sestus got Mickie and Kalistra to shift a grate aside before leading the way inside.

    ¡®One of these days, we¡¯ll pull off a plan smoothly. Mark my words kid.¡¯

    Miz-Mag had been silent for most of the escape, but failed to hold itself back now they were approaching safety.

    ¡®Usually, my plans stay on course for the most part. You and Mickie certainly have a powerful influence to have derailed two escape plans in a row.¡¯

    ¡®Watch it Goldy! It ain¡¯t my fault the kid feels a constant need to poke the bear.¡¯

    Mickie only sighed, too relieved at their narrow getaway to speak up in his defence. They walked in complete darkness for a time, the claustrophobia of the narrow passage pressing hard upon the branded man. Sestus¡¯ gemstone eyes granted it with the ability to see in the total darkness of the passages, a trait that Mickie found himself desperate for as bounced painfully down the cramped tunnels. Occasionally directions would arrive, accompanied by the description of some feature invisible to the mortal. While it did hamper is capacity to navigate, Mickie did not point out the problem to the golden fiend. It was an insight to the creature¡¯s abilities, and he did not want to lose the chance of finding out more.

    ¡®Hmm. That¡¯s strange.¡¯

    Mickie bumped into Sestus as their guide came to a sudden stop, hardly getting an oomph out before Kalistra stumbled into him.

    ¡®What¡¯s that old boy?¡¯

    Miz-Mag piped up while the mortal and gorgon righted themselves.

    ¡®There should be a guard posted here. One checking for passphrases.¡¯

    ¡®Where are they then? Taking a smoke or something?¡¯

    ¡®I do not know. The spot should never be unattended.¡¯

    Kalistra sighed as she straightened.

    ¡®It is odd hear you all talk to Miz-Mag. Like standing next to someone on one of those digital communicators.¡¯

    ¡®What? Like a phone?¡¯

    Did she not know about phones and radios? Mickie had thought they were rather common in hell. His question was ignored by the gorgon.

    ¡®Could the base have been discovered? They did seem to know that we were in the truck.¡¯

    Sestus seemed alarmed at the possibility.

    ¡®It¡¯s not unheard of. Though news like that normally spreads fast through the urchins, I should have been informed.¡¯

    ¡®Unless it only just happened.¡¯

    Miz-Mag offered, drawing grim looks from those who could hear it.

    ¡®Did the robot know of the base?¡¯

    Mickie asked. Even if their driver had met an unfortunate end, he would not rule it out.

    ¡®No. We had a good relationship, and all good relationships require boundaries.¡¯

    The mortal peered into the dark, unable to even see the tunnel ahead. If only they could send a scout in.

    ¡®Mag, any chance you could take a look?¡¯

    A rustle came from his shoulder.

    ¡®Kid, I might have better eyes than you, but I still need light to see.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s a no then.¡¯

    Mickie contemplated suggesting they turn back, but swiftly discarded the notion. Even if there was the risk of a trap, they needed to confirm if something had happened to the urchins here. Light abruptly bloomed behind the mortal, emerging from an orb in Kalistra¡¯s hand.

    ¡®What are you doing?¡¯ Hissed Sestus. ¡®That glow will spread through the tunnels like a beacon.¡¯

    ¡®Well, if we¡¯re going to head in, which I assume we are, then I want to see what¡¯s happening.¡¯

    The gorgon must have snagged the orb on their way out of the previous base. There was a logical argument against using the light, but Mickie gave it scarcely a thought once the tunnel came into view. He hated how vulnerable the darkness made him feel.

    ¡®I agree. If something happens Kalistra and I will need light to act. It¡¯s better we risk being seen if it means we aren¡¯t caught off guard.¡¯

    Seeing there was no chance of winning the argument, Sestus sighed and turned towards the passage.

    ¡®Very well. If we¡¯re going to take the risk, then we might as well get on with it.¡¯

    The group moved onwards, eyes and ears straining for any sign of life. They paused at an intersection so Sestus could crack a hidden door, before making the final stretch towards the base. No one spoke, wary of drawing attention, yet Mickie could see the tension in the way their golden guide moved. Even if the guard had left its post, there should have been other signs of activity as the group neared the base. Yet the only sound to reach them was the echoing of their footsteps, the only movement in the dark their own cautious progression.

    Miz-Mag had moved away from Mickie¡¯s shoulder to scout ahead. His partner¡¯s distance was constrained by the faint light of the lamp, but hopefully it would be enough to forewarn them of any ambushes. They came upon the base, finding it as empty as the halls beyond. The lights were out, lending the place an eery stillness that felt so different from the bustling hub in which Mickie had so recently rested.

    ¡®Hey, I think I got something.¡¯

    There was a strain to Miz-Mag¡¯s voice, a tension that spoke of unease. The taller members of the group found the demon a couple of turns away, standing beside a slumped figure. Kalistra held the glowing orb high, casting its light upon the body of an urchin. Something twisted in the back of Mickie¡¯s mind, heat building in the base of his skull and dropping hard into his gut. A painful kind of anger, impotence and sadness congealed into viscous weight.

    Logically, Mickie knew the urchins were not as young as their appearance suggested. Yet, the boy was still and silent, absent of any aged intellect that might break the youthful illusion. Someone was speaking, but his ears were filled with the drone of dying cicadas. There were lines. Things even someone as fractured as Mickie would never do, things he would never condone. The urchin, the boy, was a lance through the hollow calm he had been maintaining. A puncture that allowed a memory to swirl into his mind like an unwanted fog.

    He was no longer in an underground bunker, but standing instead on soft carpet in a sun dappled room. A woman with dark hair stood by the door, giving him a look of wary concern. Mickie hardly registered the presence of his sister, fixated instead on the two mounds covered by white sheets. He had seen beneath that thin layer of fabric. Had forced himself to check, to be sure.

    ¡®Why Lu?¡¯

    The woman sighed.

    ¡®You know how these things go Mik. They weren¡¯t supposed to be here, your hit on the shop should have scared them into hiding.¡¯

    Not that. He had known that.

    ¡®Not that¡¯

    He spat.

    ¡®Why are they dead?¡¯

    A breeze blew through the open window, tickling his face and flaring his anger. Lucia was slow in replying, attempting to place her words carefully.

    ¡®You know they sent in Gil, right. He says they came looking, saw too much.¡¯

    ¡®Gil is a fucking animal! They were kids Lu!¡¯

    The anger felt good, felt right. But it fled swiftly, leaving Mickie alone with the loathing. It was always there now days, simmering below the surface.

    ¡®I know Mik. You need to let me¡­¡¯

    ¡®Let you what? Complain to Claudia? She won¡¯t do shit about it.¡¯

    He was fed up. Tired of feeling so empty all the time, tired of running away from emotion so he could keep hold of his last shred of sanity.

    ¡®I¡¯m.¡¯

    Mickie swallowed hard.

    ¡®I¡¯m done Lu. I can¡¯t do it anymore.¡¯

    Lucia stiffened.

    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯

    He did not respond, there was nothing left to say. The loathing he felt was bubbling over, poisoning Mickie, killing him from the inside out. He headed for his sister and the door beside which she hovered. It was time to leave it all behind.

    ¡®Mik, please. What are you doing?¡¯

    Stepping past his sister, Mickie made to leave but was stopped by a hand clamping about his forearm. Lucia spun him around, so their eyes met. The look he gave her was dead as ash, and as tired as the oldest ghost.

    ¡®You really want to know?¡¯

    He asked with a sigh. Lucia barked a laugh before responding. It was a weak thing, a single ha that mixed anger with a nervous kind of fear.

    ¡®Of course I do, just asked, didn¡¯t I?¡¯

    ¡®Fine. I¡¯m going to go have a chat with Gil. Then I¡¯m going to leave. Go somewhere far away.¡¯

    He turned, clenching a hand briefly before releasing it with a sigh. It would be futile, but he had to at least try.

    ¡®You could come. We could start fresh. I know a someone who could get us new identities.¡¯

    Mickie was not looking at his sister, but he could hear the pain and desperation that must have been etched upon her face.

    ¡®I can¡¯t go Mik. You can¡¯t go! You know Claudia would never let us leave.¡¯

    The empty boy gave a dry laugh of his own.

    ¡®She won¡¯t lift a finger. She knows how much it¡¯ll cost her to stop me.¡¯

    ¡®So what? You just abandon the family? Leave me to the wolves?¡¯

    Lucia¡¯s voice had turned angry, nails digging into the meat of his arm. Mickie ripped the appendage from her grasp and met her furious stare. The anger was not the only thing in those eyes, pain danced with resignation in their depths. A small spasm ran through his sister¡¯s top lip, the closest to crying he had ever seen her come.

    ¡®You were always stronger than me Lu.¡¯

    Mickie said, his voice tired but resolved.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know what it is that drives you, but I certainly don¡¯t have it.¡¯

    He turned away.

    ¡®I¡¯ll leave you a burner in the beach side dead drop. If it all goes to shit and you want out, send me the old code. The one we made up before dad died.¡¯

    As he walked away Lucia shouted down the hall after him, a parting shot that would prove to be so terribly prophetic.

    ¡®You really think you can walk away? You are this life Mickie, and eventually you are going to come back to it. I¡¯ll be waiting when you do.¡¯

    <hr>

    If Mickie had been put off by the dead urchin, Sestus was downright distraught. They had to leave the golden demon standing beside the corpse after Kalistra and Miz-Mag failed to coax a response from it. The remaining trio headed further into the urchin base, less cautious of an ambush but still wary. It was clear from the condition of the body that whatever had happened here had not been recent. Which left the question of why news of the attack had yet to get out.

    Luckily the base appeared to have been operating on a skeleton crew, and they only stumbled upon another couple of bodies splayed out in the halls. Mickie moved past them after only a cursory glance. It had taken a concerted effort to push away the twisting loathing that had bubbled up at the sight of the first body. He did not want to test his capability to keep a clear head.

    Eventually the three of them came upon a room with a body slumped across the threshold. Partway out, the urchin looked as if they might have been running for the exit when they were struck down. Giving Kalistra a meaningful look, Mickie stepped over the corpse to enter a compact meeting room. The residents of the base must have been gathered for a discussion when the attacker struck, because the space was thick with shadowed mounds.

    Mickie felt the buzz starting up at the sight, the drone of cicadas through that open window. He steadied himself, breathing slow of air scented by death. He need to stay empty, stay focussed. Keep it all out.

    ¡®What in the nine happened?¡¯

    Kalistra had been stoic at the sight of the first few bodies, but even she struggled to maintain her cool at the carnage laid out before them.

    ¡®I¡¯d say they died.¡¯

    Miz-Mag attempted to act unaffected at the death, but Mickie knew his companion well enough to hear the unease behind the bombast. The gorgon did not hear the little demon, moving past the two of them to enter the room. Light reflected off surfaces coated in congealed red, illuminating the grim contents for all to see. Mickie did not follow his serpentine ally through the door, doing all he could to avoid looking directly at the youthful dead. It was through these efforts that he saw it, painted across a wall in crude, bloody strokes. Curved and dripping, a crimson crescent moon.

    ¡®By the blood.¡¯

    The curse was little more than a squeak, Miz-Mag having followed his eyes to the mark. Kalistra somehow sensed their unease, because she glanced towards Mickie. On the gorgon¡¯s forehead her tattooed brand stood proud, a ring of bones with a crescent in the centre. Swallowing, the mortal nodded towards the painted wall. Kalistra turned and went rigid as she noticed the very same crescent that marked her, writ large upon the dull steel.

    ¡®I believe.¡¯

    Mickie said.

    ¡®That Illiath did not take the sabotage of her mission well.¡¯

    Kalistra did not respond, but her hair revealed the turmoil that roiled beneath a stoic exterior. Snakes writhed in agitation, occasionally snapping at one another. No one spoke, moments passing in silence as the group took in the bloody crescent painted across the wall. When a change occurred, it was subtle. Mickie felt a shift in the air, an incomprehensible weight emanating from the serpentine warrior. Realising what was coming, the mortal stepped away from the door and out of sight.

    The power spiked and faded, Mickie returning to the room to find Kalistra still standing with her back to him. One clawed hand loosely held her aviators, slack with an empty fatigue that Mickie knew all too well. The bloody wall had been turned to flaky stone, yet the crescent was still discernible as an indentation upon its surface. Kalistra returned her glasses to her face, stomping heavily towards the results of her power.

    With a shout of animalistic fury, she drove a scaled fist into the stone, shattering it outwards and into an adjacent storage space. Mickie did not comment as she turned about, walking past him and back down the hall.

    ¡®We should grab Sestus, it¡¯s time to move.¡¯

    Her hair was limp, resigned as the women it concealed.

    ¡®And Mickie, that was some good advice you gave, back in the last urchin base.¡¯

    They said no more. Kalistra might have been reluctant at first, hopeful perhaps that they might slip past her master. Now they were likely not going to have such luck. His ally felt the cage falling back about her, and was willing to take greater risks than she first realised to stay free.

    Mickie could not say for certain if this meant Illiath was on their trail. This attack felt more like revenge than a tactical strike. If the shadowy demon had known they were coming this way, the group would have likely met with an ambush instead of a bloody warning. However, Illiath might have managed to find out something during the strike on the urchins. It was very possible that the meeting at which they had perished was called to discuss Mickie¡¯s imminent escape.

    Sestus met the group partway back to the first body. The golden fiend seemed subjued, mourning the loss of its urchins. However, the dumbstruck immobility was gone, and their guide was all too keen to hear what they had discovered alongside Mickie¡¯s thoughts on the attack. Once the mortal finished explaining his logic, even Kalistra seemed a touch more upbeat than before.

    ¡®The question remaining.¡¯ Mickie finished. ¡®Is whether Illiath managed to figure out where we are headed.¡¯

    ¡®It would not surprise me.¡¯

    Kalistra said, still dour from the scene in the meeting room.

    ¡®It doesn¡¯t matter either way. The tunnel is the only way out of the city, there is nowhere else to go.¡¯

    Sestus spoke softly, fear and reluctance colouring the demon¡¯s tone.

    ¡®Is it still worth the risk? We could try for one of the towers.¡¯

    Mickie was not one to back down from an enemy, but Belphegor¡¯s forces knew they were in the district and now Illiath was also prowling about.

    ¡®No! The towers are a lost cause. Even if we get you through the forces below there will be more waiting at the top.¡¯

    The vehemence with which their guide spoke caught him off guard.

    ¡®You must climb. You must. If we do not succeed now Belphegor will close his hand about us and squeeze. This is the only chance!¡¯

    There was a fervour to Sestus, one which reminded Mickie of the vision he had when last asleep. One in which the leader of the urchins had taken orders from the Soul Lord.

    ¡®Why does it matter so much to you that we head up? Old boy, you just lost a whole base, and this is what you take away from it?¡¯

    The demon on the mortal¡¯s shoulder made its own suspicions known, and Mickie agreed with Miz-Mag¡¯s point. It was beginning to appear that Sestus¡¯ prior torpor had not been due to grief for the fallen, but fear for the failure of its plan.

    ¡®How can the two of you have been under Belphegor¡¯s thumb and still not agree with me? I don¡¯t think you understand. That old demon has an obsession with the Soul Lord, an unhealthy one. Now that it knows I¡¯m helping you, it will come for you harder than ever. This is the only chance; you need to get to the seventh circle.¡¯

    ¡®I agree with Sestus.¡¯

    Kalistra finally broke her silence, anger having steeled into resolve.

    ¡®We need to hope the tunnel remains undiscovered and leave before we are caught.¡¯

    Silence fell, the two demons pausing for any further arguments.

    ¡®Ah well kid, while I like this new streak of common sense you got going, we managed a daring escape in the castle. I¡¯d bet we can pull it off again here too.¡¯

    That settled it then, all or nothing.

    ¡®Alright. Let¡¯s do it.¡¯

    <hr>

    A sound echoed through the omnipresent dark as the group trekked through the tunnels, a distant ringing patter. Kalistra reacted immediately, the light of the lamp vanishing as they all came to a standstill. No one spoke, ears straining to pick up the noise. It came again, a rhythmic tapping that grew slightly louder before going silent.

    ¡®Slithestra.¡¯

    Sestus spoke the word like a curse into the dark. It was the name of the strange dog-lizard Mickie had seen back when he first arrived in the city. A beast with a head that would unfurl like a flower to release slick tentacles. If he recalled correctly, it had an astounding sense of smell.

    ¡®You can tell that¡¯s what it is? Just from that sound?¡¯

    Miz-Mag was impressed, if a little concerned.

    ¡®Yes. Come, I¡¯ll explain as we walk. You can turn the lamp back on Kalistra.¡¯

    Light pushed back the veil of darkness, and their golden guide wasted no time in setting off at a brisk pace.

    ¡®There are few things that the urchins hate more than those blighted slithestra. Every time we¡¯ve had a base uncovered it¡¯s because one of those slimy monsters picked up a scent. If you hide beneath the city, you learn to identify the sound of a slithestra¡¯s approach.¡¯

    ¡®So, you know how to lose it?¡¯

    Mickie asked, hopeful they might be able to shake the tail before exiting the tunnels.

    ¡®I do not. Sometimes we set up decoy scents, or overwhelm the beast¡¯s senses. Those are always remote traps though, we can¡¯t do it right now.¡¯

    ¡®Then what¡¯s the plan old boy?¡¯

    Miz-Mag enquired while casting a wary look behind them.

    ¡®We get out as fast as we can. The slithestra will be coming from the way we entered, and we¡¯re heading in the opposite direction.¡¯

    ¡®Aren¡¯t they fast? Shouldn¡¯t we be running?¡¯

    The branded man recalled how quickly the slippery beast had vanished when its handler lost control.

    ¡®On their own, sure. Notice how its approach is staggered though? That¡¯ll be the team they sent down, reeling it in before it gets too far.¡¯

    ¡®And we are currently moving faster than the hunting team?¡¯

    Kalistra asked from the back of their procession. Sestus gave a low chuckle before replying.

    ¡®Yes, that we are. I mentioned scent traps for the slithestra, well, we usually have other surprises waiting for uninvited guests. The kind that instils a heavy dose of caution. Belphegor¡¯s lot will be moving at a snail¡¯s pace.¡¯

    ¡®Wouldn¡¯t they know the base has fallen though?¡¯

    ¡®Likely not.¡¯

    Mickie responded.

    ¡®Belphegor knew we were coming, and to an extent, how we were arriving. If it had known of this base, it would have set an ambush.¡¯

    ¡®Exactly. Illiath was probably cut loose after failing at the hive.¡¯

    Sestus concluded while leading them up a narrow shaft and into a broad service tunnel.

    ¡®We¡¯re getting close to the exit now. The rest of the way will have to be covered above ground.¡¯

    Mickie hoped that they would be able to fly under Belphegor¡¯s radar. If the old lord did not know about the escape tunnel, then its forces should be spread thin throughout the district. The group reached a ladder leading to a hatch, and their golden guide waved for a stop. In the distance Mickie could still hear the faint sound of pursuit from the slithestra.

    ¡®Keep close. We¡¯ll be leaning more into speed then stealth this time around.¡¯

    After receiving confirmation from the mortal and gorgon, Sestus grasped a rung of the ladder and hauled itself upwards. They all followed close behind and in moments Mickie was pulling himself into a narrow alleyway. A ragged group of demons nearby swiftly made themselves scarce as Kalistra¡¯s serpentine hair emerged from the dark. The branded man watched them flee, hoping they were too afraid to mention anything the enforcers prowling their streets.

    The group ran hard through trash strewn streets in the shadow of stained concrete housing. The group of demons Mickie had noted when emerging from the underground turned out to be a rare sight. Unlike their ride into the district there was almost no one left wandering beyond the safety of four sturdy walls. The presence of the enforcers had scared everyone inside.

    While not the greatest boon to their chances of remaining undiscovered, the lack of crowds allowed for rapid progress. When everything started to go wrong, it did so without warning and at incredible speed. So much so, that Mickie almost missed the moment when their luck ran out.

    A grey blur hurtled out from a street up ahead, twisting towards them with the clack of claws on stone. Sestus¡¯ arms shifted under its cloak, and something flashed beneath the dim glow of an overhead lamp. The grey mass was resolved as a slithestra, one that had a rune encrusted dagger buried in the meat of its unfurled head.

    Without slowing Sestus raised a hand, flicking its wrist as if motioning for something. The bloody runes on the weapon glowed intensely, before the sharp sliver of steel was hurtling through the air towards them. Their golden guide caught the dagger and it vanished into a fold of dark cloak. The entire encounter had lasted the space of moments, but everyone in their party knew what it meant. They had been discovered.

    As if in confirmation of the thought a shout went up as they passed the street from which the slithestra had emerged. As they ran past Mickie glimpsed a large force of demons pounding the pavement in their direction, weapons raised. They had avoided these enforcers, but already the branded man could make out calls in every direction.

    They fled, taking sharp turns at reckless speed, risking a fall for a chance at escape. Then Mickie rounded a bend to discover Sestus partway up a tall demon, one hand grasping its jacket while the other buried a dagger in its neck. The enforcer¡¯s companions were reacting with surprise, giving the gunman the time he needed to summon his weapon and shoot into their midst. Before the first of the demons could even shout at the attack Kalistra was upon them.

    ¡®By the blood, blighted savages is what you all are.¡¯

    Miz-Mag cackled as the party continued onwards, moans and shouts of pain in their wake. When the next encounter with their pursuers came, it was with far less luck. Belphegor¡¯s minions must have figured out their heading because Mickie approached a corner only to be met by Sestus coming back the other way. The crack of gunfire followed, chipping small craters in the surrounding concrete.

    ¡®Blockade. Big one. We¡¯ll need to go around.¡¯

    Mickie cursed but did not object, and the party wrapped through another series of twisting alleys. The mortal had no doubt that this would cost them precious time, a resource of which they were in slim supply. When Sestus once again retreated from a street he almost took the corner anyway. He had stormed blockades in the palace, he could do so again here. The golden fiend seemed to have read his thoughts, catching Mickie¡¯s arm and pulling him aside.

    ¡®You cannot risk yourself, you must¡­¡¯

    Power built in the air behind them as Kalistra rushed by. The gorgon took the corner without hesitation and was met by the crack of gunfire. Mickie wrenched himself free of the golden fiend¡¯s grasp and followed as the serpentine warrior¡¯s gaze tore into the enforces. He came about the bend to the sight of a small army of stone figures.

    Kalistra had caught most of them in her attack, but not all. A collection of enforcers at the back were desperately weaving about their petrified comrades. Mickie had no such obstacles and charged the barricade as the gorgon sagged in exhaustion. Shots zipped past as the demons attempted to fire at him through the stone forest of bodies. The mortal raised his jacket arm before his head and barged right into the first row of rigid statues.

    He hit the densely packed ranks like a battering ram, crashing through one and knocking over half a dozen others. The effect dominoed out from his position and soon all the stone enforcers were tipping over, catching their fleshy counterparts in the fall. Miz-Mag laughed in glee as Mickie got to work.

    At some point Sestus caught up to lend assistance and by the time they were done with the blockade Kalistra had recovered enough to jog over. The power the gorgon had expended was tremendous, and it showed in the slump of her shoulders and lethargy in her step. Mickie could see a couple of bloody marks where bullets had clipped her in the moments before she struck. They had no time to rest however, and ran from the remnants of the fight with as much speed as they could muster.

    The golden demon at their head appeared to be leading them in a strange route. It took sporadic turns, never doubling back but also avoiding a single direction. While odd, the reason was soon made apparent when no further blockades formed in their path. By scrambling their heading Sestus hampered the enforcer¡¯s ability to set themselves up ahead of the party. Soon they were closing in on a monstrous wall, nearly as tall as the cliffs between districts. It was the border of the black city, a barrier protecting the metropolis from the endless darkness of the eighth circle.

    ¡®We¡¯re close. Can lose them in the tunnel.¡¯

    Even a demon like Sestus could tire, rasping out the words between mouthfuls of air. Mickie was no better, his lungs burning and chest heaving. Yet, they had almost made it. Had even managed to shake the enforcers enough to give themselves a bit of breathing room. Sestus took one final turn and came to a stop beside a nondescript door in an alley. Their guide fumbled in its cloak, pulling free a swipe card and inserting it into the lock.

    They slid into a grubby maintenance room, characterised by an open hole in one corner. A hatch sat ajar, the open path of their escape route. Sestus paused momentarily at the sight, but swiftly shook itself and got to work. The fiend grabbed a strange device from a cloth bag on the shelf and set it on the floor.

    ¡®What are you¡­¡¯

    ¡®No time. Let¡¯s go.¡¯

    The head urchin straightened, waving them towards the open access hatch. With a parting glance to the odd box now sitting exposed on the floor, Mickie followed Kalistra into the dark, on the final stretch towards freedom.

 20 â€“ Cresentâ€™s Fall

    The group descended into darkness, swallowed whole by a broad passaged heading straight for the city wall. Before the light from service room above faded, Kalistra retrieved her spherical lamp. She tossed it to Mickie and winced as her wounds protested. With a deft motion the branded man caught the device and twisted it, filling the passage with a soft glow. They passed through a heavy steel door that looked a lot like a bulkhead and slowed long enough to seal it shut with a heavy thud.

    ¡®What is all this, old boy? That device you were messing with before and now this door?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked Sestus, an uncertain frown on the little demon¡¯s face.

    ¡®A backup plan. Come on.¡¯

    The tunnel widened as they continued, a concrete construction far sturdier than any other urchin made passage he had seen before. It made Mickie suspicious as to what their demonic guide¡¯s backup plan might be. The light of the lamp could still reach the walls easily enough, but only made it so far down the long passage before the darkness won out. They had been walking for a minute or so when Sestus stopped short.

    ¡®There¡¯s something ahead.¡¯

    A weight settled in Mickie¡¯s gut. They were so close. Cautiously, the party moved forward until the light of the lamp fell upon two huddled lumps. The shape of them was familiar to the mortal, seen so very recently. Two dead urchins. Ice slid up Mickie¡¯s spine at the realisation and he made to shout a warning.

    ¡®Kid! Behind!¡¯

    Miz-Mag beat him to it. Reacting before his companion could even finish the words, Mickie spun aside. Something dark whispered by him, heading straight for Sestus. He felt the proximity of its passage, the cool wind of steel through the air. Ahead their golden ally was turning at Miz-Mag¡¯s warning, but failed to move as swiftly as Mickie. Shadows engulfed Sestus, flowing over him like oil.

    There was no cry of pain or shout of defiance, only silence as the darkness rolled past the leader of the urchins, loyal servant to the Soul Lord. It left a body standing, but one that lacked a head. Black blood dribbled from a clean stump of a neck, obscured by arms that were still raised in surprise. Sestus toppled, crumpling to the floor with the meaty finality of death.

    The moving shadow stopped beside the bodies of the urchins, darkness flickering away into the air like tongues of flame. Illiath revealed itself, glaring down the tunnel with hatred, head wrappings pulled away to reveal a crown of dark horns. In one hand Lillith¡¯s heir held Sestus¡¯ severed head, in the other a knife coated with a sheen of dark blood.

    ¡®Kalistra. Stop the mortal.¡¯

    The words were spoken to the gorgon with a weight of command, an irrefutable order that his ally could not disobey. Mickie did not react, his attention fixated upon the lifeless head in Illiath¡¯s hand. Silence regained its grasp upon the passage as the echoes of the command faded, punctuated by the steady drip of blood on stone. Sestus was gone, just like that. It was funny in a grim kind of way, Mickie had assumed a servant of the Soul Lord would have been stronger. Yet, the two crystalline orbs gazing lifelessly back at him were evidence that in this realm, power and brutality reigned supreme.

    With a conscious effort the branded man tore his eyes from the head and back onto the demon that held it. Illiath¡¯s face held a fading expectation, supplanted by wrath as time dragged on and Kalistra did not obey. Sestus¡¯ head fell to the floor with a wet thud and was kicked away with dismissive contempt.

    All of their opponent¡¯s attention was focused on the insubordinate gorgon. The branded man watched the head roll out of sight. Mickie was unsure how he should feel at their guide¡¯s death. It had only aided them out of loyalty to the Soul Lord. Yet, without that help Mickie had no doubt he would never have gotten this close to escaping the city. Not only that, but a fiend so close to the Soul Lord had to have known something about his brand, and now Mickie would never get a chance to find out what.

    ¡®Listen to me serpent! Do you wish to die!¡¯

    Illiath was growing ever more agitated, and Mickie began to worry himself that he had miscalculated. He knew he needed to trust Kalistra and the plan, but so much of this rode on theory and guesswork. It could all work in principle, but principles mattered little in the depths of hell. Unable to resist, he cast a glance over his shoulder.

    Kalistra stood facing away from her ally and master both, eyes turned towards the wall. There was no sign of an internal struggle from the gorgon, no indication she was resisting the pull of her brand. Mickie gave a soft chuckle, it had worked.

    ¡®You know,¡¯

    He said, returning his gave to Lillith¡¯s heir, attempting to give Kalistra the time she needed to set her resolve.

    ¡®These deals you demons seem so fixated on are weird. Too many rules, too many opportunities for a loophole. Sound, for instance, is an essential tool of the master. If the bound cannot hear, then they do not know to obey.¡¯

    It had been the first layer to his scheme. A simple idea that had evolved after Mickie saw Belphegor exert control back in his first, I¡¯ll fated prison escape. All the old lord needed to do was speak a command through the announcement system and every marked demon was rushing to obey. It got Mickie thinking, that if sound was the problem, then silence was the answer.

    He had seen some serious noise damping technology in the palace and guessed that the urchins might have something similar. As it turned out, they did, a portable device to aid with stealth operations. All he had needed to do was communicate the location of the device along with the plan to Kalistra before they left the base.

    ¡®If you believe this will work then you are mistaken mortal. All the gorgon need do is look upon me and my intent will reach her.¡¯

    While caught off guard by the development, the shadowy fiend¡¯s confidence was hard to shake. That was fine however, because something in the air was beginning to shift behind Mickie. The dregs of Kalistra¡¯s power called forth for a final strike.

    ¡®What are you doing? Stop that!¡¯

    Only now did Illiath realise their true intent. The sound dampener had been a stop-gap measure, a holdout to prevent any surprise attacks. The fiend rushed Mickie in a hazy blur, blades flashing in the lamplight. Instead of fighting, the mortal darted sideways, evading the demon as best he could. A razor edge ran along the sleeve of his jacket, but the material held. Then Mickie was parting from Illiath as it made for Kalistra. Not even close to fast enough.

    A knot of tension uncoiled as the branded man saw his ally had held up her end of the plan. The gorgan stood tall and frozen, her dark skin and gleaming scales a single shade of pale marble, her hair poised as if about to strike. In one hand she held a small mirror made of flaky stone.

    ¡®It¡¯s a strange experience being turned to stone. You cannot hear, cannot see, cannot obey. Even stranger still is that whole stone eye thing works on other gorgons with a little effort. Who would have thought?¡¯

    Illiath held up a blade, as if to strike its disobedient servant. Instead, the demon wheeled around to face Mickie, face contorted in a snarl.

    ¡®You. You have a cure for this. You were turned back flesh. Give it to me.¡¯

    Mickie wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. He had been worried for a moment that the enraged fiend would strike the petrified gorgon. Kalistra had informed him during his explanation of the plan, that any damage to the statue would carry through to the flesh. Illiath appeared to either know that, or not be willing to risk it. After all, this was its prized champion of the arena, any damage to the gorgon would only hamper the demon¡¯s plans.

    ¡®It¡¯s funny, you seem rather surprised. When we last met didn¡¯t you say you knew me, knew what I would do? Well then, how did you not see this coming?¡¯

    An animalistic growled bubbled forth from the graceful throat of his opponent.

    ¡®It does not matter. You cannot face me mortal. Twice you have tried, twice you have failed.¡¯

    Illiath did not seem eager to reengage him, likely worried the chance to snag the cure for Kalistra could be lost. That was good, he needed to keep the demon occupied.

    ¡®Cannot face you?¡¯

    His mouth twisted into a knowing smile.

    ¡®We shall see. But first I need to know, why chase us this hard? Is it worth the risk?¡¯

    ¡®What risk?¡¯

    The demon spat on Sestus¡¯ nearby body.

    ¡®I was moments from rekindling the glory of house Lillith, about to take my progenitor¡¯s legacy in both hands. Yet these rats clawed their way onto my path, it is only fitting that they now aid me in what is mine.¡¯

    ¡®So what? Belphegor kicked you out on your ass and you decided to throw a tantrum?¡¯

    Dark eyes narrowed in anger.

    ¡®Do not think such provocations will work on me mortal. I have long known the weakness of these urchins, and have exploited it too my own ends as I required.¡¯

    That came as a surprise to Mickie, and Illiath read the change in his expression.

    ¡®They are not nearly as subtle as they might think.¡¯

    The demon said, a hint of smugness in its cold voice.

    ¡®All I needed to do was find one little rat on the street, then follow it back to the nest. Then when these cowards fled, I grew curious. Followed them rather than put them down.¡¯

    A dismissive hand waved at the two dead urchins.

    ¡®Imagine my surprise, the rats had dug a tunnel out of the city. I knew then that I simply need wait. That my prey would come to me.¡¯

    Illiath smiled like a fox in the henhouse.

    ¡®And I was right. You might have surprised me, but I still know you well enough, mortal.¡¯

    Mickie swallowed. Just a little longer.

    ¡®How did you know it would be us that was coming?¡¯

    Lillith¡¯s heir seemed to enjoy gloating. Having spent so long in the shadows, it envied those who basked openly in their power.

    ¡®Just because I fell from grace does not mean I am without ears. I heard of Belphegor¡¯s mobilisation to this district. Knew only one thing would drive him from the hive to the edge of the city.¡¯

    It was far from a perfect plan, yet somehow Mickie was unsurprised that Illiath had tracked them down. It was like the he and the demon had been on a crash course from the moment he entered the city. The shadowy fiend had used him as a pawn in its games, but it was more than that, as if something had drawn Lillith¡¯s heir to him.

    ¡®You see now, that you cannot escape me. I will give you one more chance to tell me of the cure.¡¯

    Mickie had spent too long in thought, given Illiath an opportunity to realise he was coaxing her into a conversation. The demon¡¯s knifes abruptly disappeared, slid into hidden sheaves to be replaced by a single, long blade. The metal glistened with sinister sheen.

    ¡®No? Well, I will just have to extract it from you.¡¯

    His eyes traced the new weapon, something was different about it, a coating on its surface. Illiath smiled, enjoying the suspicion in his eyes.

    ¡®You recognize this? I adjusted the dosage this time, you will not recover so swiftly.¡¯

    It was not difficult to recall the poison that had immobilised Mickie during their first encounter. He had run out of time; it looked like his last-minute distraction was a no show. The branded man called forth his own weapon, barrel spinning until a lion¡¯s head was in position at the top.

    ¡®You¡¯re good, I¡¯ll give you that. But you made a mistake.¡¯

    He spoke softly now, going cold, empty but for a driving anger.

    ¡®You should have put me down when you¡­¡¯

    The tunnel shook like a leaf in a snowstorm. It happened abruptly, and even though Mickie had been expecting it, hoping for it, he was still startled. His diversion had come at last. The object Sestus had planted at the entry point to the tunnel, revealed as the explosive it was. A way to guard their escape route under a pile of rubble. The sound hit them like a thunderclap, a roar of titanic proportions that had Mickie¡¯s sinuses aching.

    If the branded man had been startled by the blast, Illiath was thrown completely off guard. Lillith¡¯s heir was not even facing Mickie as he closed, realising almost too late that he had been waiting for this exact moment. The demon was made for speed however and wheeled upon him with blade flashing. Rather than attempting to avoid the strike, Mickie stepped into it, steel punching his jacket and undershirt to slide deep into his gut.

    It was necessary, he only had one shot and could not afford to miss. Mickie made a grasp for the hand holding the blade as he raised his gun. Illiath¡¯s eye widened slightly at the act and the demon drew its hand away, leaving its weapon lodged in Mickie¡¯s body. It was the final puzzle piece of his plan, and the reason it had been such a mistake to leave him alive for so long. Because, just as Illiath had come to understand him, he had come to understand it.

    During their first encounter the mortal had noticed something strange. The demon had been about to strike him with a blade when he fired his weapon. Rather than take the gunshot, the demon had used its abilities to shift into shadows, avoiding the attack and letting the knife pass harmlessly by Mickie. Their next fight had seen Illiath pin him but jump away when he trained his weapon upon it.

    It had taken some brainstorming with Miz-Mag, but the two of them reached one simple conclusion. Illiath¡¯s powers would not function properly if it was in contact with another living creature. Mickie had just confirmed that when he forced the demon to dodge his grab at it. Now his weapon was raised to its chest, and he saw the moment the fiend realised its final, most fatal, mistake.

    Illiath thought it knew Mickie, but if that were the case, then it would know Mickie was never truly alone. Having clambered sneakily to their target¡¯s shoulder, Miz-Mag laughed uproariously as it drove a clawed hand into the demon¡¯s neck. Across from him, Illiath attempted to turn into shadows, and failed. The fiend¡¯s eyes widened, and in them Mickie saw true fear for the first time.

    The branded man fired; a blast lost to the ongoing roar of the distant explosion. His weapon kicked with the fury of a golden lion. Smoke wafted upwards as Illiath, the last of the Lillith¡¯s line, fell to the floor in two wet pieces.

    For all its talk, the demon was too fearful of taking a hit, always retreating to use its power when pressured. One good shot was all Mickie had needed, so he weighted the odds as best he could and rolled the dice. An all-in gamble to end Illiath, and they had come out on top. Mickie coughed wetly, the action sending slivers of pain through his body as the blade in his gut shifted. Already he could feel the poison setting in, a fog creeping into his vision, his body growing heavier. As the blast from the explosion faded Miz-Mag reached him, clambering up to its usual spot on his shoulder.

    ¡®By the blood kid! That was some real demon stuff right there! Killed the snooty bag in a single shot!¡¯

    The tunnel had been built to withstand the blast, the bulkhead they closed on the way in protecting them. Yet, for some reason it still felt as if the ground was shaking. Mickie staggered, bumping hard into a wall and using it to steady himself.

    ¡®Shit, kid, the wreath. Get it on the gorgon.¡¯

    Oh, right. Mickie tried to get at the inside of his jacket but found it pinned closed by the blade lodged in his gut. He grasped the weapon, heaving it out with surprisingly little pain. Then again, it was getting difficult to feel much of anything with the toxins raging through him. The woozy mortal pulled free a cloth bundle and wobbled over to Kalistra¡¯s petrified body. She had toppled when Sestus¡¯ bomb went off, a large portion of her hair having broken off and a dangers crack running up one arm.

    Mickie fell to his knees beside her and began unwrapping the wreath with clumsy fingers. The leather binding it was strangely slippery, he could not grasp it properly. Miz-Mag let loose a loud curse and dropped down to assist. They got the deadly collection of thorns free, and Mickie grabbed it wholesale. He had neither the time nor ability to be dainty about this. Before the pervasive red force could strike at his soul, he was setting the ring over Kalistra¡¯s face like a strange mask.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    There, it would have to do. His body felt made of lead, and Mickie was happy he could finally give into the pull dragging him down. The mortal collapsed to the floor, wondering idly if the wound in his gut was fatal, or if his regeneration could handle it. Mickie made out one final thing before the curtain of fog closed in about his eyes. An uncharacteristically docile Miz-Mag stood beside the headless corpse of Sestus. There was a distant expression in his partner¡¯s eyes, a sadness that the mortal had never seen in the demon before. Then the world closed upon him, and Mickie fell backwards into the half reality of his soul.

    <hr>

    Time was a lose concept in the depts of the poisonous haze, and Mickie found it difficult to discern when it was his faculties began their doddering return. Had that footstep echoed up from the past, or was it filtering through his deadened senses? The colours blurring his vision, were they just imagined, or had he seen a flash of bronze, a dribble of red?

    The line delineating the return of consciousness was blurred, but at some stage Mickie realised he was being dragged along the concrete tunnel. Next, he discovered that Kalistra was the one dragging him, and she looked like she had been thrown into a blender. Her head was coated in so much blood that her skin mirrored Miz-Mag¡¯s in colour. One arm hung limply at the gorgon¡¯s side, dripping gore to the floor at irregular intervals.

    Mickie attempted to speak but found his tongue little more than useless deadweight. The mortal tried to will the poison away faster, pushing his body to recover. This was no time to be immobile, they needed to flee, get away before Belphegor uncovered the tunnel¡¯s entrance. Yet, he continued to remain useless, unable to do anything but watch as Kalistra trudged ever onwards. He attempted to spot Miz-Mag, but as far as Mickie could tell the little fiend was gone.

    They came upon the end of the tunnel abruptly, a wall of plain concrete with metal rungs buried in it. Above them a hole led out into the darkness of the eighth circle. Sestus had described this portion of the plan to them, a short sojourn from the escape tunnel to their path upwards. As with so many things however, their guide had failed to provide any details as to how they would navigate the black. Any form of light source would be a beacon to those in the city, yet Mickie failed to see how they would get by without one.

    Kalistra paused when they reached the ladder. She was injured, coated in blood and would now somehow have to haul Mickie upwards with only one functional arm. The mortal was unsurprised when she dropped him to the floor and slumped against a wall, plopping down beside him. Mickie worked his useless tongue, attempting to speak. Finally, his lethargic body managed to push out enough air for an incomprehensible moan.

    While not quite what he was going for, it did draw the gorgon¡¯s attention. A bloodshot serpentine eye gazed down at him through a set of aviators. Above the glasses was one of the few sections of skin not coated in blood. Kalistra had wiped her forehead clear on something, revealing skin that was unmarked by a red ring of bones. The pact binding her was gone, dead as the master that had forged it.

    ¡®Mickie? You awake in there?¡¯

    He made another slurred noise.

    ¡®Hmm, well hopefully you can at least hear me. Illiath must have slapped you with a serious dose of Invirae if it¡¯s taking this long.¡¯

    Mickie tried for a yes but landed on something resembling an affirming grunt.

    ¡®But that wreath.¡¯

    The gorgon shuddered.

    ¡®I¡¯ve never felt anything quite like it, and never want too again.¡¯

    Seconds ticked by as Mickie tried to move an arm and just barely managed to twitch a finger.

    ¡®And it worked. I mean, you said it would, but it¡¯s hard to believe. I never thought I would be free of Illiath, never thought I would have a chance to¡­¡¯

    The words were soft, almost melancholic. Kalistra trailed off at the end, sighing as her head rolled back to thud against the wall.

    ¡®What have I done.¡¯

    It was not a question, not really. Mickie had expected his ally to be thrilled by her sudden freedom, but if anything, Kalistra seemed resigned. He desperately wanted to ask what her problem was, but could only manage a groan of inquiry.

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry about it.¡¯

    She attempted a wave with her bad arm and winced at the pain.

    ¡®I owe you double after this and the prison, though I do wish you hadn¡¯t put me through a grinder while I was a statue.¡¯

    ¡®Olm¡¯

    Both their eyes widened.

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    ¡®Blumb¡¯

    So close. Mickie worked his jaw, dragging control back to himself.

    ¡®Bomb.¡¯

    ¡®Bomb? What do you¡­¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s narrowed her eyes in thought.

    ¡®You mean the thing Sestus was messing with at the tunnel entrance? That was an explosive?¡¯

    ¡®Yesh¡¯

    It was like holding onto a bar of soap, Mickie would start off in control, but it did not take long for him to slip. However, it was progress, and they needed to get up that ladder and away from the tunnel.

    ¡®I didn¡¯t even notice. What else happened while I was out?¡¯

    The drowsy mortal did his best to explain the encounter with Illiath, brief as it was. They did not broach the subject of Sestus¡¯ death, after all, what was there to say? The one responsible had met their end, and the demon had succeeded in aiding their escape for the most part. While Mickie felt some gratitude for the golden fiend, he had never trusted it. Miz-Mag had been somewhat close with the Soul Lord¡¯s old servant though. Mickie recalled the sight of his companion standing downcast beside Sestus¡¯ body. He would need to check in at some stage.

    ¡®I always knew Illiath wouldn¡¯t let me go. It used to come to me in my cell sometimes, you know. Not to gloat, or be cruel. No, that bastard only ever wanted to talk about the house of Lillith. Make sure I understood my place as a part of its rise.¡¯

    ¡®Did, to me, too.¡¯

    Kalistra nodded slowly.

    ¡®Yeah, not surprising.¡¯

    With an effort of will, Mickie managed to lift both arms from the floor. They hung in the air for an instant before flopping uselessly to the ground once more.

    ¡®That¡¯s promising.¡¯

    ¡®Need. To. Move.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re right, but I can¡¯t carry you up that ladder like this.¡¯

    The mortal growled in frustration. He would not fail now because of this poison. He only needed to climb the ladder, then Illiath could drag him into the dark. Feeling as if an elephant was squatting on his chest, Mickie rolled onto his stomach. The half crawl, half collapsing drag to the ladder that followed was one of the most difficult things he had ever done.

    As he closed a hand about the bottom rung, an echoing clang rang out through the tunnel. The sound hit Mickie like a lightning bolt. In that instance, something within him shifted, and he felt power wash through his body. It was a subconscious, panicked response, and it burned through his soul like fire. Mickie bit back a groan as his back arched, the pain was deeper than physical, closer to when he had been scratched raw by the wreath. Yet, as the stabbing faded to a dull throb, the branded man found he could move freely again.

    Kalistra was at the ladder in moments, giving him a confused look but saying nothing. Mickie stood with care, and threw a glance down the tunnel. Whatever he had just done, now was not the time to analyse it. The duo climbed from the passage and into the inky black of the eighth circle. Before she reached the exit Kalistra reached into a pocket and switched off their spherical lamp. The resulting darkness was absolute, the distant glow of the black city too weak to provide any real illumination. Mickie began to feel about the smooth stone surrounding them, searching for some sort of guidance.

    ¡®There¡¯s got to be something around here. The urchins couldn¡¯t all see like Sestus.¡¯

    His had barely finished whispering when Kalistra hissed in excitement.

    ¡®Over here! A rope I think.¡¯

    The blind mortal followed her voice and soon had the course material running along his fingers. It was a rope, secured by a study metal peg that he managed to stub his toe on.

    ¡®Ready?¡¯

    Mickie prepared to start following this invisible guide into the dark, only to be stopped short by Kalistra.

    ¡®One moment.¡¯

    There was a whisper of steel on thread, and the guideline pulled free from the peg.

    ¡®We¡¯ll reel in the rope as we go.¡¯

    A good plan. Being the only one with two functioning arms, Mickie took up a position at the back and the two of them set off into the black.

    <hr>

    Miz-Mag reappeared while Mickie was halfway up a rocky cliff face. The little fiend came into existence without a sound but wasted no time in making its presence known.

    ¡®By the blood kid! Where are we?¡¯

    The branded man¡¯s hand missed the next carved portion of stone and he swayed dangerously for a second before righting himself. His companion yelped anew from his shoulder, grasping Mickie¡¯s ear painfully for support.

    ¡®Watch it!¡¯

    Further up Kalistra had pulled herself over the edge and was holding a spherical light out to illuminate Mickie¡¯s path. When the guideline had ended at the foot of a towering column, the man and the gorgon had thought the tunnel up would be nearby. After a brief search they instead found a manmade path carved into the rock.

    ¡®Relax will you, I¡¯m almost there.¡¯

    Making the climb in complete darkness would not have been possible. Therefore, the pair of them had been forced to make use of the spherical lamp. Kalistra had bound the item in the fabric of her cloak, dimming its luminance enough to keep them both inconspicuous. Even so, the long climb had been tense and highly dangerous. It was with significant relief that Mickie grasped Kalistra proffered hand and was hauled onto a narrow ledge.

    ¡®Who where you talking to?¡¯

    Mickie took a moment to catch his breath before answering.

    ¡®Mag. It just woke up.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t you know it. Now can you please tell me why I¡¯m halfway up a cliff?¡¯

    ¡®You know the plan, we¡¯re finding Sestus¡¯ tunnel out.¡¯

    ¡®And it¡¯s up here?¡¯

    ¡®Apparently.¡¯

    Kalistra had been listening to half of their conversation with a bemused expression, but soon rose to her feet.

    ¡®Well, if Miz-Mag requires an update, let¡¯s do it on the move. Looks like the city¡¯s finally catching on.¡¯

    A scaled hand pointed into the dark and Mickie followed it to find a swarm of lights flooding over the distant walls. Dozens of flyers, all sporting searchlights with which they could scan the abyss.

    ¡®The lady¡¯s right kid. Let¡¯s hoof it before they get over here.¡¯

    Keeping an eye on the approaching search parties the group carefully made their way around the ledge. They soon came upon a narrow tunnel carved into the stone. It was a crude thing, steep and far too short for the man and the gorgon. Miz-Mag noticed their hesitation and let loose an amused bark of laughter.

    ¡®Shall we? You can get me up to speed on the way.¡¯

    Mickie sighed.

    ¡®I suppose it¡¯s either Belphegor or this.¡¯

    Kalistra rolled her neck.

    ¡®I know which I¡¯d prefer.¡¯

    She hunched down and crawled into the small passage. Mickie cast one finally over the cliff before following. The distant floor was lost to the inky air of the eighth circle. However, the city stood sentinel in the black, walls jealously clasping its precious light. Above it all the spire towered, a murky shape from this distance, with parasitic strings branching off in every direction. He had spent longer in that metal shell than anywhere else in this accursed realm. Had only narrowly escaped its confines.

    If the palace had been a shock to the system, this place had been the glimpse of the lightning that delivered it. Hell was not at all what the living world had led him to expect. It was not an afterlife built to punish the guilty, but rather a twisted mirror of the world above. Just like the life Mickie remembered, there was no retribution behind the malice he had seen. Only greed and desire.

    He had come through two circles of Hell. Two out of nine. While alive, Mickie had thought he had hit rock bottom. Now, he was realising that he had only been wading about in the shallows. The war in the palace, the chain through the city. Already he was being pushed further than he ever had before, and for what? So he could avoid death for a second time? Mickie had made a promise over Aria¡¯s corpse to show the demons of this realm that humanity was more than their stepping pad. Yet, since then, he had only been surviving by the skin of his teeth. He needed to do more, to be more, to make the price for survival worth paying. Otherwise, all the sacrifice, and all the pain, would be for nothing. Just like it had been when he was alive.

    ¡®Hey kid. This ain¡¯t the time for daydreaming. Let¡¯s get moving.¡¯

    The squeaky voice of his partner echoed out of the tunnel entrance, drawing Mickie slowly from his introspective tide. In the distance the flying machines were beginning to fan out and sweep the dark with their lights. It would not be long before they were passing nearby. With a sigh the branded man tore his eyes away from the distant city and started into the tunnel.

    <hr>

    Belphegor was unaccustomed to having its plans so completely and utterly derailed. To think that the urchins had been constructing a secret path out of the city all this time. The old lord picked his way through shattered concrete and broken bodies. Not only had they built a tunnel out, but they had pre-emptively blown it up to aid the escape of the Soul Lord¡¯s chosen. The thought spurred a spike of irritation that the demon was swift to quash.

    Belphegor made his way to an area cleared of debris. A hole in the ground yawned with mouth full of darkness and stone, flanked by imps in the garb of enforcers. The demons straightened when they noticed their lord, but were not acknowledged as the fiend made its way into the dark. They had failed today, and a snubbing was only the beginning of their punishment. Within the tunnel was an aged human woman, standing stiff backed with a lamp in hand.

    ¡®Lord.¡¯

    ¡®Hello, my dear. What is the status of our wayward branded and champion?¡¯

    They started down the passage together, the mortal positioning herself a respectful step behind her lord.

    ¡®Gone, by all accounts, disappeared into the darkness. We have search parties out hunting but I doubt they will be able to track them down.¡¯

    ¡®And why might that be?¡¯

    She paused before answering. Even if the demon was hiding it, the woman knew the Belphegor¡¯s temperament well enough to tread carefully. Slothful it may be, but once roused the lord¡¯s anger was a titan that stopped at nothing and no one.

    ¡®You know as well as I that Sestus would not have led them out here without reason. The enforcers reported a severed rope at the exit to this tunnel, likely a guideline of some form.¡¯

    ¡®And if you had to guess where this rope leads?¡¯

    ¡®A path to the seventh circle. One made by the urchins.¡¯

    Her thoughts mirrored Belphegor¡¯s own. Those damned children and their abyss touched leader thrived within the bowels of the city. They had no reason to go beyond its walls, neither the frozen wastes below nor the scorched sands above held anything of value for them. If Sestus had sent the Soul Lord¡¯s chosen away however, it would not be to a safehouse in the darkness. They had built a path out of the eighth circle, and likely done so in expectation of the mortal¡¯s arrival. Belphegor glared into the dark of the tunnel as if it might provide answers. Instead, it coughed up a small slice of entertainment.

    ¡®Well, well, well. It seems greedy little Illiath finally bit off a little too much.¡¯

    ¡®It appears so.¡¯

    The sight of Lillith¡¯s final descendant¡¯s corpse was a disappointment, though one far outweighed by one of the other bodies.

    ¡®Lived like a bug, died like one too. Isn¡¯t that right, Sestus?¡¯

    Belphegor wandered over to the severed head of the Soul Lord¡¯s most loyal underling, picking it up in one clawed hand. The fiend took its time examining the rigid features, giving extra attention to the gemstone eyes.

    ¡®Did you know that these eyes were made by Magareem personally?¡¯

    ¡®Truly? Sestus did not spawn with them?¡¯

    ¡®No, these were invented by the Soul Lord, and the process of their creation died with it.¡¯

    Belphegor¡¯s eyes roved the bloody scene.

    ¡®Oh, and what do we have here?¡¯

    The old lord placed the head gently on the floor as something else caught its attention. Against a wall was a strange ring of thorns, dyed red with dried blood. Belphegor made its way over to the object, bending low to examine it.

    ¡®We are currently unsure as to what it is. Those who have touched it report a strange feeling and pain after extended exposure. I have teams working to¡­¡¯

    The woman was interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from her lord. Belphegor straightened, tugging its jacket sleeves back into place with habitual fluidity.

    ¡®Do not bother. I know what this is. It appears we now have a know how the urchins cured the mortal of the stone bindings.¡¯

    ¡®Oh? Was this the object glimpsed in the feeds?¡¯

    Upon investigation of Mickie¡¯s abrupt escape, the spire¡¯s staff had discovered a conspicuous gap in their video records of the statue hall prior to the mortal exit. However, this did not extend to the event in question. There had been a small moment in which an object appeared on the floor of the hall as if from thin air. Then, just as swiftly, it was gone.

    ¡®Yes, this here is a wreath of Soul Flayer bramble. About as crude as crafting pottery with a jackhammer, but it would have worked. It also explains how Illiath managed to lose a fight with its pet gorgon present.¡¯

    Belphegor ran its eyes over the scene. Blood coating the floor and the wreath, Lillith¡¯s heir dead by a wound matching those imparted by the mortal¡¯s firearm. As usual, the lord¡¯s second was swift to catch on.

    ¡®The gorgon turned itself to stone?¡¯

    ¡®Indeed. Get your teams to shift their investigate to the smuggling channels, let¡¯s see if we can use this to weed the garden.¡¯

    With some luck, they would be able to uncover one of the urchin¡¯s distribution networks, something Belphegor could leverage.

    ¡®Of course, Lord.¡¯

    ¡®Also, once we¡¯re done with the meeting, make sure Sestus¡¯ eyes find their way to the Transcribers. Them and that robot we scooped up.¡¯

    ¡®You have plans?¡¯

    ¡®I do, and I will have you carry them out personally. Now come, I wish to see the end of this tunnel before the others arrive.¡¯

    The old demon¡¯s mood appeared to have been buoyed by Sestus¡¯ death. It was enough of a shift that the fiend¡¯s second felt comfortable addressing some other issues as they walked.

    ¡®What of the hive?¡¯

    Belphegor released a long sigh.

    ¡®The district has been subdued. However, it appears that a group of insects managed to escape up one of the towers before my forces could catch them.¡¯

    ¡®So, they are no longer an issue?¡¯

    ¡®Not quite. If they somehow survive the sands and make it back down here, who knows what sort of damage they will cause.¡¯

    ¡®Shall I organise a hunting expedition then?¡¯

    ¡®No. I have something better in mind.¡¯

    The was a finality in her master¡¯s tone that the woman recognised. She held her silence throughout the remainder of the walk. They soon stood in the expanse of darkness that was the true body of the eighth circle. Flying machines roamed the black, filling the expanse with the roar of engines as spotlights scanned for life. Belphegor did not expect them to find the mortal or the gorgon, though some trace of their passage would be beneficial.

    ¡®There was something noted by the ground team that arrived first.¡¯

    ¡®Oh?¡¯

    ¡®A strange report. The enforcers all swear that while they were out searching the dark, they heard something.¡¯

    ¡®The mortal?¡¯

    Belphegor would need their names if one of the teams had heard the Soul Lord¡¯s chosen escaping and returned empty handed.

    ¡®No, nothing like that. They all report having heard some kind of strange music. There was an attempt to track it down, but no source was uncovered.¡¯

    The old demon sighed in disappointment. Likely the dark playing tricks on some of the weaker willed fiends.

    ¡®Report to me if any teams note something similar.¡¯

    Belphegor knew it was likely time to head back into the tunnel. It was generally best not keep demons such as these waiting. Yet, the old lord took a few moments, glaring into the darkness while it tried to puzzle out the role of the branded mortal. What was so important about the boy that Sestus would accept death to assist him? Whatever is was, Belphegor was not willing to let the Soul Lord¡¯s chosen slip through its fingers.

    ¡®I suppose we¡¯d best get to the meeting. The house heads are likely already at one another¡¯s throats.¡¯

    Luckily for Belphegor then, all its problems were heading in the same direction. All the lord needed was a pretext for an armed excursion, and it just so happened that there was a scorched district and convenient scapegoat ready and waiting.

    <hr>

    In a deep, guarded corner of the spire lay a small workshop. It was filled with the tools of a Transcriber, strange instruments and materials designed to assist in the carving of runes. In one corner a monstrous metallic form stood sentinel, glaring with gemstone eyes at an aged woman hunched over a glowing orb.

    Belphegor selected only the best for service in its personal staff, and this human was no exception. Apart from being a master administrator she was also an adept Transcriber, an uncommon skill for a mortal. The runic language of hell was often beyond the comprehension of those not spawned within the nine circles, yet she had found it surprisingly easy to pick up.

    The focus of her attention was the core of the Mechanist¡¯s wayward mining robot. It had been pulled from the wreckage of the transport and hauled up the spire, ready for her ministrations. As she worked, the woman mused upon the layers of her master¡¯s plans. When they first learnt of the machine under their nose, Belphegor had not ordered its capture or destruction. Instead, the old lord had figured out how the Mechanist kept track of its creations, and commissioned a device through which they could monitor the machine. It became the perfect spy, one unaware that it was even delivering intelligence.

    For decades Belphegor had left the creature to its own devices, not interfering as it made contact with the urchins and struck up a relationship with their leader. Occasionally they would use a piece of gathered information, but only when Clink was free of the scene and clear of suspicion. Except, the woman mused, for this last time.

    Carefully, she completed the carving of a rune on the orbs surface, then started on another. Belphegor had pulled out all the stops to try and catch the Soul Lord¡¯s chosen, using its observation of Clink to set an ambush. Yet the mortal was gone, and now the machines cover was blown. The remaining urchins would never again trust the robot, not after the ambush.

    That did not mean the machine was no longer of use, however. As if it had been waiting for this very moment, Belphegor had taken Clink¡¯s demise in stride and initiated another plan. A plan that was now reaching completion as the lord¡¯s second completed the finishing touches on the machine¡¯s core. She straightened, stretching bones that had felt too old even when she was still aging.

    Once her body was as comfortable as it was going to get, she turned to the monstrous metal frame. A cavity on the chest was open, exposing a slot perfectly sized for the modified core. The glowing orb fell into place easily, and moments later the room was filled with sounds. Air hissed, servos clicked, and metal scraped against metal. The woman took a couple of slow steps backwards, gazing up at the robot as it awakened. Dark irises sparked to life, flames trapped in a cage of facetted crystal, eery eyes meeting hers. If Clink could no longer serve Belphegor as a spy, then it would do so as a weapon.

 21 â€“ The Scorched Seventh

    Mickie might have been expecting the pain, but that did not make it any more pleasant to bear. He was huddled within urchin¡¯s twisting tunnel, fire tearing through his insides. A constricting cord had wound about his throat. He could not breath, could not scream. The skin upon his branded hand bubbled and blistered as a new symbol etched itself upon his flesh.

    Then, as suddenly as it had come, the wave of fire receded, leaving Mickie a shuddering wreck. Bile rose in his throat and the branded man Swallowed hard, tamping it down as he reasserted control over himself. A glowing orb came into focus, held over him by a scaly hand.

    ¡®Well I, I uh¡­ have never seen anything like that before.¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s voice was a quiet mixture of concern and fascination. Her hair, usually a chaotic mess of twisting snakes, was still. Countless sets of eyes reflected the soft glow of the lamp as forked tongues sampled the air near Mickie¡¯s sweat-soaked face. They jumped when he abruptly let loose a rasping cough, responding with a multitude of hisses.

    ¡®Yeah. Any ideas?¡¯

    He had warned the gorgon of his impending collapse, and Kalistra had suggested she observe the process. Apparently Transcriber¡¯s worked regularly with the power contained in the soul, shaping it to form runes. His ally had thought she might be able to leverage that experience to uncover more about the effects of his mark.

    ¡®Well, one thing¡¯s for certain. That¡¯s no ordinary brand.¡¯

    ¡®No shit.¡¯

    Mickie coughed again, pushing himself upright against a wall.

    ¡®I figured that much out myself.¡¯

    ¡®No, you don¡¯t understand. Your situation is extremely abnormal, I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡¯

    The gorgon took a seat against the opposite wall, lamp held loosely in one hand.

    ¡®It¡¯s not uncommon for demons to trade power, so your abilities themselves are not strange. What is however, is that both your mark and the powers it grants are not fixed.¡¯

    Mickie gave the gorgon a tired stare, doing his best to follow along.

    ¡®Deals are static things, with established terms. They are, by design, not supposed to change.¡¯

    ¡®What about a clause, or a contingency?¡¯

    ¡®A what?¡¯

    All this talk of deals and contracts had the mortal dredging up what little he could recall about legal documentation.

    ¡®You know, some kind of sub-rule. A feature of the deal that only comes into effect under certain conditions.¡¯

    Kalistra frowned at him for a moment, before releasing a soft chuckle.

    ¡®A deal with a demon is not equivalent to a loan agreement.¡¯

    ¡®You know about loan agreements?¡¯

    The idea that this scaled warrior before him knew about financial contracts was almost funny. She didn¡¯t really seem like the homeowning type.

    ¡®Of course, I know of¡­ ah forget it. What I mean, is that demonic deals bind the very souls of each party. It is subjective, only those involved in the contract can decide if it has been breached.¡¯

    Mickie gave a slow nod.

    ¡®Right, creates a fair bit of slack for loopholes. Like the whole thing we did with you and Illiath.¡¯

    Kalistra raised a hand reflexively to her unmarked forehead.

    ¡®Yes, just like that. Caveats to a deal only introduce further leeway. There have been cases where such clauses were twisted against the very demons who set them. Also, baring the of ascension of the circles, you don¡¯t know any of the terms. So, you shouldn¡¯t know if you have fulfilled or broken them.¡¯

    It took Mickie a while to process that. He felt at the new lumpen symbol on his hand as he thought, running a thumb over scarred flesh.

    ¡®Then why do I collapse every time I go up a circle?¡¯

    The gorgon shrugged.

    ¡®No idea. From what I can observe your soul is being altered by something; I just don¡¯t know what.¡¯

    Altered? That was not something Mickie wanted to hear in relation to his soul.

    ¡®Ah, you¡¯re up. It¡¯s about time.¡¯

    A small figure sauntered into the lamplight from further up the tunnel.

    ¡®Where have you been?¡¯

    Mickie asked Miz-Mag as the tiny demon clambered onto his knee.

    ¡®You were blacked out for a while kid. I got bored, went to see if there was anything further up. Felt it when you came to though.¡¯

    The nonchalance with which his partner discussed Mickie¡¯s bout of excruciated pain irked the mortal. He restrained the urge to flick the fiend off his knee, settling for an angry look.

    ¡®Oh, don¡¯t be that way. You should be happy, new power and all that.¡¯

    A new ability. Mickie had forgotten about that in the aftermath of the pain. Now he thought about it though, the mortal knew exactly what he wanted to summon. He settled his attention on his bare feet, considering how he had called forth his armour. A set of heavy combat boots slipped into his mind, and Mickie called them forth as he would to his clothes or weapon. For long seconds he waited, anticipating the feeling of fabric against his feet. Nothing happened.

    ¡®It¡¯s not boots.¡¯

    He said to Miz-Mag.

    ¡®What? Of course it isn¡¯t kid. Why would it be boots?¡¯

    ¡®You said it would be! On the way out of the palace!¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s fingers itched with the urge to flick the irritating little devil.

    ¡®I didn¡¯t say it was going to be boots. I said it might be.¡¯

    Miz-Mag seemed to sense his waning restraint. It leapt from his knee and scampered over to a confused Kalistra.

    ¡®But now you have the power I can sense it, and it ain¡¯t any kind of shoe.¡¯

    ¡®Well? What is it then?¡¯

    The fiend gave a squeaky hum.

    ¡®I¡¯d say some kind of reservoir, or maybe a battery?¡¯

    Neither of those made any sense to Mickie. Unsure of how he would picture a reservoir in a way that was useful, he settled on the battery.

    ¡®It¡¯s not working. Can¡¯t you get more specific?¡¯

    Miz-Mag rubbed its jaw.

    ¡®Let¡¯s see. The feeling I¡¯m getting is of space, like a reserve where you store stuff for later use. It doesn¡¯t translate well into a physical item like the armour did.¡¯

    Beside his noisy partner, Kalistra cleared her throat.

    ¡®Sorry to interrupt, but what is this about?¡¯

    Mickie swiftly got the gorgon up to speed on the half of the conversation she had missed. Once he explained Miz-Mag¡¯s description of the new ability, she took a few moments to think it over.

    ¡®Both your abilities draw upon your soul, yes?¡¯

    He nodded.

    ¡®Well, thinking in terms of function, and in the context of what you can currently do. I think Miz-Mag might be referring to something to store additional power.¡¯

    Thinking it over, that made sense. Mickie ran out of juice pretty quick if he needed to speed up a reload or repair his jacket.

    ¡®That fits. What would something like that look like though? I need to picture it.¡¯

    The gorgon let a serpent twist about a clawed finger as she thought.

    ¡®Could be anything. Thinking like a Transcriber though, I would say some form of accessory. Something easy to keep on your person.¡¯

    Figuring it was worth giving her suggestion a go, Mickie shut his eyes. The first thing that came to mind was a ring, settled upon a slender hand and embossed with his family crest. When that failed, he was slightly relieved. That was not an image he wanted to picture on a regular basis.

    Next up, his brain conjured a necklace, a cheap thing a girlfriend had given him during his quieter years. Mickie wasn¡¯t sure why it came to mind, he had not been big on jewellery and the relationship had not lasted. But the carved wood and leather strap called something forth within him. An itching burn encircled his throat, causing Mickie to swallow.

    The tension within him grew taught as a drawn bow, before snapping in a release that had something falling about his neck. Mickie looked down to find an unfamiliar symbol of carved bone dangling from a string of old leather. The image was a confusing mess of twisting lines whose meaning he could not comprehend. Yet, as Mickie took hold of the rough carving in a hand, he felt something. It was a tether, an unseen path linking that strange space within him to the necklace.

    ¡®Soul.¡¯

    Kalistra spoke the word softly, but it still made him start.

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    ¡®The symbol. It means soul.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, I see.¡¯

    He examined the tangle, squinting as if to derive meaning through blurred vision.

    ¡®Is it that rune language you use?¡¯

    ¡®No. That isn¡¯t a rune. Not in the sense that you¡¯re thinking anyway. It¡¯s a character from an old language. One as old as hell itself. Most of the words aren¡¯t even known to us any longer.¡¯

    ¡®Huh, but you know this one?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, most Transcribers know a few here and there. It¡¯s more of a curiosity than anything else.¡¯

    That caused Mickie to think of something he had been meaning to ask the gorgon. He held his brand out to her.

    ¡®You wouldn¡¯t know what these mean then?¡¯

    Three symbols now marred the flesh, taking up a third of the space enclosed by the circling predators. Kalistra looked curiously down at the new symbol before shaking her head.

    ¡®No sorry. They¡¯re old for sure, but I don¡¯t have a clue what they mean.¡¯

    ¡®Forget that kid. How¡¯s the new toy work?¡¯

    Miz-Mag, now believing that enough time had passed for Mickie¡¯s ire to have settled, returned to his knee. The branded man returned his attention to the necklace. If it were some kind of reservoir, then it should let him expend more power than before.

    With little more than a flexing of his hand, Mickie called forth his gun. The barrel rested on the head of a snarling wolf, reloaded after the shot that killed Illiath. He began to charge the weapon, pouring forth energy until the grills on the body radiated a dangerous light.

    ¡®Are you certain that¡¯s a good idea?¡¯

    Kalistra was giving the weapon a wary look, no doubt recalling the time he had blown apart the chain on the spire. Mickie did not respond, too focussed upon the internal flows of his power. As energy streamed from its amorphous source into his weapon, it was replaced by a matching torrent from the necklace. The result was his own power reserves remaining untouched, and the fatigue that came with the expenditure diminished.

    Satisfied, Mickie dismissed the glowing weapon. This was a good result. He would need to test just how much the bone amulet could hold, but it would hopefully improve his staying power. Mickie opened his mouth to mention his success, when a strange feeling turned his attention inward. It was like he was being stuffed full off food, his insides stretching painfully.

    It was his soul, Mickie realised as fire flared through his bones. By dismissing his weapon in his charged state he had overfilled his capacity, pushed the container of power beyond what it was meant to hold. The result was not pleasant. He curled in on himself, a physical reaction to the sensation that did nothing to lessen the pain.

    Within his soul the source of his power was writhing, boiling like a superheated geyser. It was going to tear him apart from the inside out. Then, with a gasp of relief, Mickie felt the pressure lessen. A waterfall of ethereal energy streamed away from him and into the amulet, the item reclaiming what it had given.

    ¡®Ooh. That was not wise.¡¯

    While Miz-Mag cackled away, Kalistra queried him warily, usure what had just happened. The accursed imp must have guessed what he had done. After explaining himself to the gorgon, even she seemed vaguely amused at his expense. Mickie rubbed is chest, eyes drifting to his uncovered toes. The amulet was useful, but a pair of shows certainly would have been nice. Perhaps on the next circle.

    ¡®Yes, normally it is extraordinarily difficult to overcharge a soul as you just did. There is an inherent resistance, like bending your arm too far the wrong way. The amulet and your weapon worked as a dangerous sidestep.¡¯

    ¡®I can tell.¡¯

    Mickie replied, deadpan. His attention left Kalistra to wander up the tunnel.

    ¡®Well, now I¡¯m no longer writhing on the floor, I suppose we had better keep moving.¡¯

    Miz-Mag rubbed its hands together in anticipation.

    ¡®Dead on, kid. I want to slip through the seventh before Belphegor can get a whiff of our trail.¡¯

    The group resumed their arduous crawl up the tunnel. Until this point the ascension had been one draped in tense silence. Smothered by the knowledge that even now the enforcers were scouring the dark beyond the city for them. However, something had shifted following Mickie¡¯s collapse. For all that his brand¡¯s change was a painful experience, it also signified they had reached the next circle. Even though they were crawling through a dark, cramped passage, Mickie felt a gentle buoyancy to his spirit.

    ¡®Hey Kalistra, I never got the chance to ask while we with the urchins, but you wouldn¡¯t happen to know anything about the seventh circle?¡¯

    The gorgon paused in her crawl to cast him a look over one shoulder.

    ¡®I¡¯m passingly familiar with the sands. Not sure if I could give you anything useful though.¡¯

    ¡®Well, I¡¯m sure you know more than Mag and I, seeing as we know absolutely nothing about what¡¯s waiting up there.¡¯

    Kalistra paused for a moment.

    ¡®You really don¡¯t know what¡¯s coming?¡¯

    The disbelief in her tone sparked a jolt of irritation through him.

    ¡®No. Sadly I didn¡¯t get the chance to swing by the public library between arena bouts. Something to do with me being chained in a cage.¡¯

    ¡®All right, all right, relax. I forget at times that you a new to hell. Your disposition is just so well suited to this realm.¡¯

    Mickie squinted, unsure if he should be taking offence to that. Kalistra did not give him the chance to, starting her explanation of what was to come.

    ¡®The seventh circle is a massive desert, hence the nickname of the sands. I¡¯ve only ever been there on my way down to the city.¡¯

    While she sounded slightly bitter at that last part, it was good news for Mickie.

    ¡®So, you know the way up?¡¯

    ¡®I do, it¡¯s hard to miss honestly. Back when the Soul Lord was around the Sovereign had a central tunnel carved upwards. It leads right from the seventh through to the fourth circle.¡¯

    That sounded too good to be true.

    ¡®What¡¯s the catch?¡¯

    ¡®Well, it is the main highway through the circle, so there will be plenty of demons about.¡¯

    ¡®So it¡¯s a no go then. We¡¯d be noticed the moment we showed our faces.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t write it off so quickly.¡¯

    Mickie frowned.

    ¡®You think we could bust through somehow?¡¯

    ¡®Maybe. You know of the Sovereign¡¯s plans, do you not? To invade the world above?¡¯

    Kalistra spoke of the impending invasion casually, like it was an interesting article in a newspaper.

    ¡®Uh, sure, I¡¯ve heard of it.¡¯

    ¡®Well, the highway has always been manned by the Sovereign¡¯s own forces. The same ones that are now being shifted to the first circle for its invasion.¡¯

    Mickie thought it over.

    ¡®You think the path up won¡¯t be guarded?¡¯

    ¡®No, it will still be guarded. I just think we can take out whatever paltry force holds it and break through.¡¯

    Well, it was a better plan than anything he had. If there was a chance Mickie could jump up a few circles in a single burst, he thought it worth a little risk.

    ¡®We¡¯ll have to scope it out, but if that¡¯s the only way up then I guess that¡¯s what we¡¯ll be doing.¡¯

    Having set a plan into motion, the group fell into a comfortable silence as they dragged themselves ever upwards. Without a conversation to hold its interest, Miz-Mag left its usual post to scout ahead. It was because of this, that the little demon was the first to notice they had reached their destination. The patter of little feet preceded an excited squeak as a red blur shot into the lamplight.

    ¡®Kid! Up ahead! I¡¯m picking up light!¡¯

    Finally. Mickie relayed the information to Kalistra and soon the two of them were crawling as fast as their four limbs were able. For all that the tunnel had provided some relief for Mickie, the ever-present stone above his head was beginning to take its toll. He ached to be in the open air again, to shake off the last vestiges of clammy darkness.

    Ahead the passage began to get noticeably brighter, the walls shifting from grey rock to tan sandstone. They finally escaped the tunnel, emerging into a dimly lit cave. The space was tall enough that Mickie could straighten, and the mortal did so gratefully, stretching his arms up to touch the ceiling.

    While they were not yet out in the open, it was not much further. The cave was shallow, and light filtered about a bend in the stone, calling the group forward. With Miz-Mag back upon his shoulder, Mickie clambered the remaining distance to the exit. He began to feel sand underfoot, seeping pleasantly between his toes.

    Finally steeping out into the open air, Mickie was blinded by the brightness of the seventh circle. A gust of hot air whisked by as his eyes adjusted, heavy with the scent of iron. A sea of gigantic sandy dunes came into focus, cresting like monstrous waves in a storm. They filled the horizon, eventually obscuring his view entirely.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Kalistra was just ahead, face tilted up towards the distant ceiling. Mickie followed her eyes to the brightly illuminated rock, lit by crystals just like the wastes in the ninth circle. Unlike the icy blue light at the bottom of hell, these stones glowed a burning yellow. The heat they radiated was extreme, enough to push Mickie¡¯s demonic resistance into a realm of discomfort. The mortal did not mind though, not with the pleasure he had obtained from finally stepping out into the open.

    ¡®Ah, that¡¯s much better, ain¡¯t it kid?¡¯

    Miz-Mag had leapt from its usual spot and onto a nearby rockface. The demon perched above the cave mouth like tourist on the beach, splayed out to soak in the rays. Mickie followed the sandstone up to where it connected with the top of the circle. A huge cylinder of stone that linked the sandy floor to the glowing ceiling. Turning back to the expanse, Mickie saw many more pillars, reaching above the dry ocean like the arms of a drowning man.

    ¡®It is good to be out in the open air again.¡¯

    Just as he finished speaking a heavy gust of air rolled by, carry a clawing humidity. The smell of iron washed over him in a clammy wave, filling his mouth with a vaguely familiar, coppery tang. Mickie worked his tongue, resisting the urge to spit.

    ¡®Is that blood?¡¯

    ¡®It is.¡¯

    Kalistra cast an amused glance at his look of distaste.

    ¡®The seventh has lakes of boiling blood, if you think the air is bad here you should try going near one.¡¯

    ¡®That sounds nice.¡¯

    Miz-Mag chuckled from up on its stone.

    ¡®I thought you wanted more of this thing kid. You know, fire, brimstone and all that.¡¯

    It was true that the sands were a closer representation of what he expected hell to be. That did not mean he was eager to experience it. Kalistra had turned back to the sandy horizon, scanning it for something.

    ¡®If you think the lakes sound bad, then hope you never see a blood storm.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, a what?¡¯

    ¡®Blood storm. Because the lakes are always boiling, the air is constantly getting thicker with blood. After a while all that liquid comes back down in a storm. They say you can drown in one standing up, all while the flesh cooks on your bones.¡¯

    ¡®And you didn¡¯t think to tell me about this back in the tunnel?¡¯

    ¡®Well, they aren¡¯t very common, and you can tell when one is coming. The odds of us getting caught out while we pass through are slim.¡¯

    Mickie winced. That was not the kind of thing you said out loud. Kalistra did not seem to realise she had just tempted fate, continuing her scan of the dunes ahead.

    ¡®Could Miz-Mag perhaps attain some height to find the exit? I cannot spot it from here, and either of us would be easily spotted up a cliff.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, it can manage that. Mag?¡¯

    His partner gave an exaggerated groan as it got to its feet.

    ¡®If I must. What¡¯s the snake want me to look for?

    Mickie relayed the question and Kalistra answered loud enough for the demon to hear.

    ¡®We need to locate the exit pillar. It is surrounded by a walled city so look for that, there is not very much out here so it should not be difficult to locate.¡¯

    Miz-Mag scampered further up the rockface, climbing well above the towering dunes. It took the demon a short while to find the city surrounding the pillar, but it eventually provided them with a heading. The group set off across the sands, keeping low amongst the towering dunes and only cresting when the path required. Sticky heat glommed onto Mickie as he laboured to keep steady footing on the steep sand. Sweat begin to bead his brow, an uncommon occurrence ever since he had received his brand. The mortal wiped away the sticky droplets, only to find his hand coming back crimson. It was not sweat on his forehead, but blood, condensing onto his skin from the humid air. The sight made his stomach turn, and Mickie reached for something with which he could distract himself.

    ¡®Hey Kalistra, any chance you could educate a lowly mortal?¡¯

    ¡®Oh?¡¯

    The serpentine warrior started and threw him a look over one shoulder. Mickie could see little rivulets of blood running down her face.

    ¡®Sure, ask away.¡¯

    ¡®Well, seeing as you seem to know a bit about this circle, I was wondering if you could give me run-down of the rest. Just so I know what I¡¯m getting into.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, I can do that. Be warned though, I am not expert on the structure of hell, especially the first three circles.¡¯

    ¡®Well, whatever you know, it¡¯s more than me.¡¯

    So, as the trio wound there way towards the distant exit, wiping blood from their eyes, Kalistra broke down the nine circles of hell. The lower two he already knew just as well, if not better, than she did. Above their current cavern was a circle commonly referred to as the Labyrinth. Instead of a single open cavern, the sixth was an interconnected mess of smaller tunnels. It sounded like an absolute nightmare to navigate, and Mickie was glad they would be able to skip by it entirely.

    After the Labyrinth came the river. Kalistra seemed unreasonably enthusiastic about this particular circle. She described an endlessly flowing river and swathes of green marshland. Honestly, Mickie had to agree that it didn¡¯t seem that bad, at least by the standards of hell.

    The seventh was apparently a city made entirely of gold. That peeked both his and Miz-Mags interest more than any river or maze could. However, the specifics of the circle where outside of Kalistra¡¯s expertise. She said, just as with the Labarynth, denizens tended to steer clear of the fourth. The city there had been abandoned long ago.

    Her knowledge was even shakier still when it came to the second and third circles. Apparently, these were both contained within a single, massive cavern. A huge storm and the resulting deluge that it generated.

    Last up was limbo, an expansive plain at the top of hell. There were no outstanding features, just endless fields and rocky spires. Kalistra described it as a lawless place, even within the established cities that demons controlled. Mickie thought it did not sound all that bad, he could deal with a bit of pandemonium. The only thing that dissuaded him from the notion was the tone with which the gorgon described the first. It was a mixture of disgust and fear, a combination he had not heard from her even when they discussed the fighting pits.

    ¡®So, that¡¯s it. The full nine circles.¡¯

    Having finally completed her explanation, Kalistra took a slow breath of the tangy air. They had covered quite a bit of ground but were still far from reaching the exit.

    ¡®Yeah, thanks. At least now I won¡¯t be running blind every time I ascend a circle.¡¯

    ¡®Sure, not completely blind but close to it. My knowledge of the actual paths between circles is limited to the towers in the city and the passage between here and third.¡¯

    The way she said that caused Mickie frown.

    ¡®But there are other ways up? Stuff like the urchin¡¯s tunnel?¡¯

    ¡®Certainly, I just don¡¯t know them. Hell is ancient, I¡¯m sure plenty of passages between the circles have come and gone.¡¯

    It was good to know that if their plans fell through, he could always go looking for some other path onwards. The group rounded a towering sandstone pillar and finally came into sight of something other than sand. In the distance, squatting low amongst the dunes, was some form of outpost. A tower jutted above a protective wall of dark metal, as if reaching feebly for the distant ceiling. Mickie though the construction looked familiar, and his suspicions were confirmed as Kalistra ducked low beside him.

    ¡®One of the towers from the city. We can¡¯t see it from here but there will be a raised path on the other side of that wall. One that leads to the pillar city.¡¯

    Mickie gave her a nod and swung back behind cover to think. They could not take the path. To walk in the open like that would guarantee that they were spotted.

    ¡®We¡¯ll circle around, stay out of sight but follow the road.¡¯

    The serpentine warrior agreed, and they trekked into the dunes, keeping to the furrows between sandy waves. Now they were upon the occupied region of the circle, tension returned to the small group, smothering any idle chatter. They worked their way around the small fort in silence, one eye open for glimpses of the tower.

    It was Miz-Mag who first spotted the road, squeaking with excitement from atop Mickie¡¯s head. The path was just as Kalistra had described, a raised stone construct that cut through the dunes, reminiscent of a bridge above water. As he watched, a series of shapes came into view, moving slowly along the stone towards the fort. A group of demons maybe? It was hard to tell from this distance and Mickie did not want to risk being spotted. It was lucky then that he had a portable spy that could take a look for him.

    ¡®Hey Mag, someone¡¯s moving along the road, can you make out who they are?¡¯

    ¡®Not hiding behind this dune, I can¡¯t.¡¯

    ¡®Well then you¡¯d better get some height to take a look.¡¯

    The little fiend grumbled with annoyance but complied, leaping from its perch to the sand and clambering upwards.

    ¡®Hmm, bit hard to see, even for me kid. Definitely a group of demons. They kinda look like the enforcers from back in the city. Looks like they might be dragging something with them too, can¡¯t tell what it is though.¡¯

    Belphegor¡¯s forces were already on the sands. The discovery was disheartening, but not entirely unexpected to Mickie. While he and Kalistra had needed to take the long way up, the old Lord had the towers at its disposal. Miz-Mag came sliding back down the sand dune in a graceful pose. The little fiend¡¯s dignity was suddenly disrupted when a claw caught in the lose footing, flipping it headfirst down the slope. Mickie¡¯s partner cartwheeled towards him, end to end like a slinky down a staircase. The branded man caught Miz-Mag before it could spin by, chuckling as he lifted the spluttering demon upward.

    ¡®I already knew you were graceful Mag, no need to put on a show.¡¯

    ¡®By the blood! Accursed sand. You shut your trap kid, or I¡¯ll pluck your nose hairs while you sleep.¡¯

    The fiend stood up in his palm, spitting sand and curses as it brushed itself off.

    ¡®That¡¯s rather strange.¡¯

    Kalistra commented from further down the slope. Mickie responded with an enquiring noise as he returned the livid little demon to his shoulder.

    ¡®I can see the path Miz-Mag made through the sand, even though I can¡¯t see the demon itself. Looks like the little guy took quite the tumble.¡¯

    Mickie grinned at her while his partner made a rude gesture with the hand not gripped tightly to the mortal¡¯s ear.

    ¡®Just an overenthusiastic fondness for acrobatics, I¡¯d say.¡¯

    He received a sharp pinch to his ear lobe for that, but Mickie disregarded it as he continued to explain what Miz-Mag had seen.

    ¡®It is disappointing that they are already here, though I do not believe this impacts our plan.¡¯

    Mickie sighed.

    ¡®I suppose not. We were going to stay out of sight either way. Hopefully they don¡¯t have teams patrolling the sand.¡¯

    ¡®Even if they did, the odds of them stumbling upon us are low. There is simply too much desert to cover.¡¯

    The branded man was not so sure. If Belphegor got some flying devices up here, then they would be in serious trouble. However, the group needed to continue moving, and arguing the point would do nothing to change the outcome. Mickie closed out the conversation with thoughtful grunt and the trio began following the road.

    In the occasional glimpses he caught of raised thoroughfare, Mickie had yet to see any other demons. They had been travelling for some time, long enough that he was beginning to reconsider the purpose of the enforcers. Surely if they were being actively hunted there would be further patrols. Even if Belphegor¡¯s forces never left the road, it provided an elevated platform from which they could search. And yet, there was nothing. The circle was quiet and empty but for the whisper of hot air and dance of shifting sand.

    ¡®Mickie, you see that?¡¯

    ¡®Hmm?¡¯

    Kalistra drew him from his idle reverie, pulling Mickie¡¯s attention back to their twisting path between dunes.

    ¡®Hoh boy. There¡¯s always something, huh kid?¡¯

    Miz-Mag was the first to notice what Kalistra was indicating, its superior eyes picking out subtle irregularities in the sand ahead. It took Mickie a little longer, but as they neared, he managed to make out marks in running through the dunes. Parallel lines with regular divots to either side.

    ¡®There¡¯s always something.¡¯

    He agreed soberly, coming to a stop beside the gorgon.

    ¡®Kalistra, any chance you know what left those marks.¡¯

    The serpentine warriors narrowed slitted eyes behind her aviators, myriad tongues tasting the air as her hair shifted about restlessly.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know what kinds of monsters the sands hold. Though if I had to guess, it was not anything native to the seventh.¡¯

    He cast an enquiring look her way.

    ¡®Look at where they come from.¡¯

    A scaled finger followed the line up a dune, pointing towards the distant road.

    ¡®You think this is a traveller of some kind?¡¯

    The gorgon nodded.

    ¡®Yes, the signs of their passage aren¡¯t exactly subtle. Anything adapted to the sands would not leave marks so obvious.¡¯

    Mickie glanced back at their own tracks, mounds of displaced sand spaced at regular intervales in the trough of the dunes. Already they were fading, the constant wind coaxing the sand smooth. It would not be long before the small traces of their passage were washed away. He turned back to the parallel furrows.

    ¡®If whatever left those came from the road, then it wasn¡¯t that long ago.¡¯

    Kalistra nodded her agreement.

    ¡®Now if only we knew what drove them from the path.¡¯

    The branded man had been contemplating that very question.

    ¡®If I had to guess then I would say the enforcers. If they were heading back to the fort from out here, then the times frames would align.¡¯

    Kalistra hummed thoughtfully, drumming sharp nails against a thigh.

    ¡®Yes¡­ that is entirely possible. But that would suggest¡­¡¯

    ¡®That they were out here for something other than us.¡¯

    Mickie concluded. The two taller members of the group shared a contemplative look.

    ¡®Well, dear boy, I¡¯d say this is good news.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave him a gentle slap on the side of the head.

    ¡®If Belphegor¡¯s lot aren¡¯t here for us, it¡¯ll be easier to fly under the radar. Let¡¯s get stomping before they come back or something.¡¯

    Neither Mickie nor Kalistra started moving. They remained fixated upon the tracks, their thoughts turning in a different direction.

    ¡®I believe.¡¯

    The gorgon said, her hand still drumming her leg.

    ¡®That if the enforcers were out here for something other than us, it might be worth finding out what.¡¯

    ¡®Just what I was thinking.¡¯

    Mickie agreed. On his shoulder Miz-Mag stiffened, before slumping with a dramatic sigh.

    ¡®We can never just follow a plan, can we?¡¯

    <hr>

    The trio did not have to follow the tracks for long before they came into sight of something strange. Upon cresting a smaller dune, they were presented with what appeared to be a dead forest.  Spindly tresses of pale wood huddled across the horizon, reminding Mickie of the prison spines he had seen back in the ninth circle.

    ¡®A bone wood.¡¯

    Kalistra murmured beside him, her voice almost lost in the flow of hot air. Mickie narrowed his eyes at the expanse of dead forest, a sense of unease tickling his stomach.

    ¡®Does that mean what I think it does?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. Growths of bone in the shape of trees. You see how the ground is packed hard about them? It is said they feed of the blood from the storms, drain the even the sand itself dry.¡¯

    ¡®Lovely.¡¯

    Miz-Mag commented dryly.

    ¡®Can we turn back now?¡¯

    Mickie traced the path of the parallel furrows that they had been following. It followed the dunes as they faded lake waves onto a beach, giving way to cracked earth. Whatever had come this way went straight into the bone wood.

    ¡®Is it dangerous in there?

    He asked Kalistra.

    ¡®No, at least not that I know of.¡¯

    Her words were reassuring, but her tone was tinged with unease. The branded man glanced behind them at the raised highway, clearly visible atop the dune¡¯s crest.

    ¡®Well, we can duck in and find whatever left the tracks. The woods might even make for good cover moving forward.¡¯

    Kalistra agreed yet appeared hesitant as they descended towards the bone wood.

    ¡®Everything all right? You don¡¯t see, too sure about this?¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s just. Well, I¡¯ve heard some odd stories about the bone woods. Strange things, even for hell. They say you can hear the dead whispering through the trees, that if you die amongst them, your voice joins the rest.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, that sounds about right.¡¯

    Mickie chuckled in response. It felt like nothing could surprise him at this stage.

    ¡®Hopefully they stay nice and quiet for us.¡¯

    Closer to the trees it was easier to discern the differences from normal dead wood. Mickie stopped before the first jagged and spiked trunk, eyes tracing up from base to tip. The bone was bleached white, branches jutting from the thick body in misshapen spurs. Near to his head a leafless bow terminated with countless sharp points.

    Mickie reached up and snapped a piece of bone free, finding it as brittle as the dead wood it mimicked. The twig was about the width of his finger, and almost immediately it began to drip a viscous red sap onto his hand. It was like congealed blood, rancid and oozing. A burning sensation came from where the sap met the skin. With a grunt of discussed the branded man tossed the branch to the cracked earth an wiped his hand clean on his jeans. The cleaned skin was red and raw, as if he had rubbed it against poison ivy.

    ¡®Nice one kid.¡¯

    Miz-Mag snickered from its usual spot.

    ¡®Watch it, or I¡¯ll use you as a hand towel.¡¯

    The tiny fiend only laughed a little harder, petting him in a manner that was distinctly condescending. Kalistra came up beside him, giving the discarded branch a disgusted look before turning her attention to the dry earth.

    ¡®The trail is a bit harder to follow, but I have located it.¡¯

    Mickie glanced at her, then at their surroundings. It all looked like the same to him.

    ¡®Really? Good eye.¡¯

    She shrugged.

    ¡®I¡¯ve trained for this kind of thing.¡¯

    The gorgon took the lead, occasionally pointing out signs of their quarry¡¯s passage. They were small things, sand crumbling about a small crack, discolouration in a tree created by rough contact.

    ¡®Where did you learn to track like that?¡¯

    It felt like a harmless question, but Kalistra stiffened slightly. There was a long pause in during he thought the gorgon might not respond.

    ¡®My mother.¡¯

    The words were soft, spoken with a reluctance that warned him against prying further. It was a shame, because that single statement brought with it an onset of further questions. From Mickie¡¯s scattered understanding, there were no parents in hell, at least not in the traditional sense. Demons were spawned, whatever that meant. They could belong to a particular lineage, like Illiath and Lillith, but seemed not to have actual parents.

    ¡®I see.¡¯

    Mickie replied at length, making it clear from his tone that he did, in fact, not see. It was a long time before Kalistra spoke again, her attention fixed upon the trail ahead.

    ¡®My mother was a hunter in our clan. Even though I was training to be a Transcriber, she taught me. Said it was important I have the skills.¡¯

    ¡®Is that where you learnt to fight?¡¯

    Kalistra gave a soft nod.

    ¡®I have to get back.¡¯

    The gorgon paused in her hunt to cast a look back at him.

    ¡®Do you remember the terms of the deal we made?¡¯

    The question caught him off guard, and Mickie took a moment to respond.

    ¡®Yeah, to escape the eighth circle. I suppose the deal¡¯s done then. Are you¡­¡¯

    Mickie intended to ask if she was going to head off on her own, but found himself struggling to voice the words.

    ¡®I owe you. For Illiath.¡¯

    Kalistra seemed not to notice his reticence, talking as if she had only half heard him.

    ¡®But I need to return to my clan. I need to get to the fifth circle.¡¯

    ¡®Is that where they are?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, we live upon the river, and I need to get back home.¡¯

    The was a twist of urgency to the gorgon¡¯s response now. She took a moment, breathing deep and looking him in the eye.

    ¡®I want to offer you another deal. We both need to get further up. I cannot go past the fifth circle, but I can help you get that far. As repayment for Illiath.¡¯

    Mickie met her gaze evenly, wondering why she was so serious about this. He had only really made that first deal to secure help, a way to convince the gorgon he meant what he said. Honestly, he had been avoiding the topic ever since they crawled into the tunnel outside the city. Mickie assumed that Kalistra would probably want to climb, and if so, it would be smarter to stick together.

    ¡®All right. We¡¯ll get to the passage up, and part ways at the fifth circle.¡¯

    Kalistra stared him down intensely for a few moments, then nodded. She turned back to the hunt, and stepping past a series of furrows in the earth, as if something had worked its fingers into the ground. Mickie followed, finding the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

    ¡®Well look at you kid. Cutting deals like a fiend.¡¯

    Miz-Mag remarked dryly from the bleached white branch of a nearby bone tree. Mickie glanced at his companion, unsure when the demon had slipped off his shoulder.

    ¡®We could use the help.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not complaining, as long we keep climbing its fine by me.¡¯

    The tiny fiend waved away the subject like a stray thought.

    ¡®Anyway, call the gorgon over, I¡¯ve found our guy. Looks like they might have doubled back.¡¯

    Surprised, Mickie turned to call Kalistra over, finding her examining the ground some distance away.

    ¡®Hey. Mag says it¡¯s found something.¡¯

    The gorgon looked up in surprise.

    ¡®Really? That¡¯s lucky, the trail was getting cold over here. I was worried we would have to look somewhere else.¡¯

    ¡®Mag was saying they might have doubled back.¡¯

    ¡®Yep, while the two of you were chin wagging, I was getting things done. Come on, I¡¯ll lead you.¡¯

    The self-satisfied little demon set off amongst the bone trees, leaping branch to branch like a red marmoset. Mickie followed as best he could, ducking beneath brittle spines and stepping carefully over the cracked earth. Soon a strange shape became visible through the shifting wall of trees, something dull, hunched low against a trunk.

    ¡®Here it is, one of those bugs from the city.¡¯

    Miz-Mag was right, as the figure resolved it became apparent that this was no run of the mill mortal. An insectile demon was sitting with its back to one of the bone trees, appearing almost sunken into the bark. Even from a distance Mickie could tell its legs were badly damaged, chitin cracked and oozing. They must have been useless, and were no doubt the cause of the parallel divots in the sand. This demon had dragged itself here by hand, all the way from the road.

    Mickie approached it cautiously, examining the splayed arms and lowered head. Either the fiend was very sleepy, or it had died after managing to escape. Cautiously, he reached out one foot and prodded the unmoving insect in its injured leg. There was no response. Dead then.

    ¡®It¡¯s definitely one of the hive insects. I thought they all died in Belphegor¡¯s purge.¡¯

    Kalistra came to a stop beside the body and bent over to examine it. She tilted its head back, revealing multifaceted bug eyes that were a little duller than Mickie remembered.

    ¡®I¡¯m not surprised that some got away, we did disrupt the extermination with our escape from the spire.¡¯

    So, not only had this insect escaped, but it had elected to flee all the way into the seventh circle rather than run elsewhere in the city. Something about that did not sit right with Mickie.

    ¡®The enforcers!¡¯

    Miz-Mag exclaimed from a nearby branch.

    ¡®The ones we saw on the road. They must have been hunting down this insect, and it probably wasn¡¯t the only one either. Those demons were dragging something back with them.¡¯

    Mickie relayed his partner¡¯s discovery to Kalistra, and the gorgon straitened, pulling back from the dead insect.

    ¡®That makes sense to me. I have no doubt Belphegor would want to snuff out any remaining evidence of its actions. It is also means that the enforcers were not there to hunt us. At least, not yet.¡¯

    That was good news, it improved their odds of slipping out off the circle greatly. Why then, was there a sense of unease sitting in Mickie gut. He tried to parse it, jostling the feeling until a question rolled out.

    ¡®Why the seventh though? I mean, there were plenty of other demon houses back in the city. The hive could have run to them with the truth of the attack. Surely, they would have taken some action against Belphegor?¡¯

    If the insects had fled all the way to the seventh there had to be a reason. Before anyone could voice a response to his question however, something drew their collective focus back to the body. For a small moment, it was as if one of the limp hands had twitched.

    ¡®Was that my imagination, or did that dead body just move?¡¯

    ¡®Not just you kid. I definitely saw something.¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps something shifted due to the wind?¡¯

    Mickie shared a look with Miz-Mag, and the small demon returned to his shoulder. He turned back to the dead insect, and found it staring back up at him. The branded man called forth his weapon, almost by reflex.

    ¡®When did it look up?¡¯

    ¡®Just then. It raised its head.¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s voice was as shaky as his own. She had no better a handle on what was currently happening then he did. Mickie pointed his gun at the slumped corpse.

    ¡®Not as dead as we thought then.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t shoot!¡¯

    Miz-Mag hissed in his ear.

    ¡®You want to call Belphegor right to us?¡¯

    Begrudgingly, the mortal pulled his finger off the trigger, but did not lower the weapon. He did not care about the risk it posed, if the creature tried to attack them, he would put it down. There was a short silence in which nothing happened, anticipation dripping into the three of them. Then the insect¡¯s hand began to twitch.

    Clawed fingers shifted and stated scratching at the dry earth. Its mandible began to work, opening and closing as if to pull air into the dead body. The useless legs began to twitch and jerk, then started leaking blood through the cracks in the chitin. Mickie was seriously beginning to reconsider his decision not to shoot the demon, when it spoke.

    ¡®Mother. Mother. Must¡­¡¯

    The voice was like a poorly tuned radio, volume warping with eerie static.

    ¡®The hive. All gone. I need...¡¯

    Twitching abruptly became thrashing. The insect began to scratch and claw at itself, like it had something painful buried in its chest. Viscous blood pooled onto the parched sand, turning the earth red.

    ¡®Mother is dead, I saw. Saw her fall. Saw. I¡­¡¯

    The corpse¡¯s voice stuttered, faltered back on itself like a warped record before changing completely. Like a radio hitting the right frequency the tone became clear. A dead, dry rasp.

    ¡®It waits beneath the red. The door above. The lock below. Both await the key. Open the way, awaken the¡­¡¯

    All three observes took a step back as the talking corpse began to buck, leaking blood from its eyes and mouth. It thrashed like a beast as its voice warbled back to the static stutter.

    ¡®Mother, please. It has me. Help me mother, I don¡¯t want to go. I need to tell them. For the¡­¡¯

    The dead demon twisted sideways so hard it fell over. There was a wet, slimy slurp as it did and Mickie was greeted by the sight of its back, or lack thereof. Where there might once have been a hardened layer of shell plating lay an open mass of blood and organs. It was as if the chitin had been dissolved right off the corpse.

    Strings of sticky viscera were attached to the exposed body, leading back to the bone tree it had been laying against. When Mick had first seen the demon he had thought it looks sunken into the trunk of the tree. Now he realised that was because it was. Like parted curtains, the bone was split down the centre, exposing a disturbing, gory interior.

    ¡®By the blood, the tree was eating him!¡¯

    Miz-Mag huddled against the side of Mickie¡¯s head, suddenly very cautious of the trees it had been climbing. The branded man took an unsteady step back from the scene, more disturbed that a half-dissolved body had just spoken to them than of the viscera itself.

    ¡®What was that?¡¯

    He asked of Kalistra. The gorgon tore her eyes from the dead demon. They were wide behind her aviators, reflecting the same shock that he felt.

    ¡®The voices of the dead.¡¯

    She said hesitantly, reluctant to air the thought out. Mickie swallowed dryly, glancing back at the body. It was still but for the slow dribble of fluid onto the ground. Suddenly, he wanted to be anywhere else than beside that body. The talk at the beginning and end, that had seemed like the insect rambling. It had mentioned the hive and its mother. That part in the middle though. Mickie felt ice slide down his spine, heard the dead voice again in his head.

    The door above. The lock below. Both await the key.

    Something about that left him with a deep sense of foreboding. As if it was meant for him.

    ¡®I think we¡¯re done here.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s voice was far from steady, though his two demonic companions seemed not to notice how unsettled he was. They left the dead insect behind with an enthusiasm bordering on manic, stomping blindly back the way they had come.

    It was not until the dunes were in sight between the white trunks that Kalistra called for him to stop. The gorgon took a moment to gather herself before speaking. She slid her glasses aside and rubbed at her eyes. A serpentine strand of hair nipped at her hand and was swatted away.

    ¡®You heard what that, thing, said.¡¯

    Mickie felt his shoulders stiffen, wary she might also think it had been talking to him.

    ¡®It talked about coming here with a purpose. Spoke about the hive.¡¯

    He let out a breath. She was referring to the start and end of its little speech. The branded man realised he still had his gun clasped tightly in a hand and dismissed it, flexing his fingers to stretch them.

    ¡®Yeah, I heard it. I suppose if nothing else, it confirms that they chose to come up here.¡¯

    Kalistra made to lean against a tree then thought better of it, turning on a heel to stand straight.

    ¡®If only it had said why.¡¯

    Mickie glanced out towards the dunes; the unease delivered to him by the dead demon¡¯s words settling into his gut for the long haul.

    ¡®Something tells me that we¡¯re going to find out.¡¯

 22 â€“ A Third Party

    The twisted bone trees would have provided ample cover for the ragtag trio moving forward. Yet, without even needing to speak it aloud, the group all trekked out of the forest and into the dunes. Cover or not, none of them were willing to spend more time amongst the corpse possessing boughs then they already had.

    With nothing but the cavern overhead and towering sand all around, Mickie was free to dwell upon the rasping voice of the dead insect. If the vague mumbling at the start had been the demon talking from beyond the grave, then what had that second voice been? Some other soul perhaps, once eaten by the trees and now reaching out through them. Mickie could not say why, but he was certain that whatever it was, it had been talking to him. A door, a lock, and a key. How uselessly vague could you get.

    A dull buzzing reached the group as they followed a twist in the dunes. It echoed through the cavern from some distance away, droning through Mickie¡¯s thoughts like an alarm through a dream. The trio hunched low even though they could not see anything, turning startled eyes to one another. The buzz grew louder, driving them lower into the sand.

    ¡®Kid, that¡¯s a flyer. Might be out hunting for us.¡¯

    Miz-Mag hissed into his ear, and Mickie realised the tiny fiend was right. He had not noticed because of how distant it was, but that drone was the roar of an engine. Mickie knew from experience that the flying machines were extraordinarily loud. This one would have to be some distance away. He signalled to Kalistra, and they moved onwards, ears vibrating with the vehicle¡¯s approach.

    When the sound crested, and then began to fade, Mickie was caught by surprise. He had been preparing to burrow into the side of a dune if it got much closer. Try to hide from sight until the eyes overhead had passed them by. Instead, he paused, tilting his head sideways to confirm what his ears were telling him. The flyer was now moving away from them. In retrospect, he should not have been surprised. Unless Belphegor had some inkling of where they were, the vehicles would be forced to comb the desert manually. Try to find a needle in a haystack. Looking at it from that perspective, it almost seemed foolish to send anything out at all.

    The sound of the machine faded to nothing, leaving them with the whisper of wind through sand. It was impossible to tell how long they had been walking under the bright desert light. Mickie knew it had to have been some time if the ache behind his eyeballs and drag in his step was any indication. Hunger and thirst may no longer be an issue for the branded man, but exhaustion certainly was. He and Kalistra had chatted for a while as they walked, idle talk of the circles to come. Now though, neither of them could muster up the additional effort to speak as they trudged ever onwards.

    A break came in the monotony when Miz-Mag tapped him on the side of the head. It was nothing urgent, just the little demon letting him know that it needed to rest soon. Mickie took it as a sign of time¡¯s passage, wondering if he would be able to get some down time of his own before Miz-Mag returned. He did not realise Kalistra had stopped walking until he almost stumbled into her back.

    ¡®What¡¯s up?¡¯

    Mickie mumbled, shuffling sideways to stand beside the gorgon. She cast him a weary look before pointing into the distance. The branded man squinted at a gap in the dunes, making out the raised road they had been following. For the first time since they had passed the fort, there was a break in the raised roadway. It met a high wall, vanishing into a barrier that encompassed a tall pillar of stone. They had made it.

    <hr>

    The mortal and the demon approached huddled in the shadow of the raised road. Mickie had been worried there would be traffic so close to the main highway between circles, but beyond the initial hunting party they had seen no further movement. The great sandstone pillar was surrounded by a tall wall of carved stone, protecting the space beyond from the worst of the blood storms. It also served as a great barrier to keep any sneaky passerby¡¯s from getting to the circle¡¯s exit, as Mickie and Kalistra were now discovering.

    ¡®So, you knew about the city, any chance you know a way in too?¡¯

    He and the gorgon had come to a stop beneath a stone arch of the road, casting furtive looks towards the guarded city entrance. There was what seemed to be a small army of fiends at the entrance, far more guards than either of them had expected.

    ¡®We could charge in?¡¯

    Kalistra suggested, her tone indicating how little she thought of the idea. They would need to climb up onto the road, break through a defensive position, then somehow lose any pursuers while making for the path out.

    ¡®If we have no other options we might have to. I thought you said the exit wouldn¡¯t be heavily guarded?¡¯

    There was something about the large force guarding the entrance that had Mickie worried. These fiends did not appear to be part of Belphegor¡¯s enforcers.

    ¡®I thought you said the exit would be lightly guarded?¡¯

    He darted another glance at the guards, attempting to make out their details from a distance. They appeared to all be demons of differing variety, though all wearing a similar uniform.

    ¡®It should be. The Sovereign should have bled this place dry of all its capable fighters.¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s reply was laced with the weariness of their trek. She leant against the curved stone of the road¡¯s arch and sighed.

    ¡®I¡¯m not sure why there would be so many guards here.¡¯

    Mickie drummed his fingers against his thigh, attempting to kick his tired brain into something resembling an analytical state. He felt like they had missed something, and charging into the city without the full picture would be a bad idea. A snippet of stuttered words came to him as he thought, something the insect¡¯s corpse had said.

    ¡®That demon we found, it seemed like it was trying to do something right?¡¯

    His ally had taken a seat in the sand and peered up at him through twisting serpentine locks.

    ¡®Sure, if we can trust what a possessed corpse was saying.¡¯

    ¡®Alright. If that¡¯s the case, then we can assume the Hive¡¯s survivors made their way up here with some purpose in mind.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s voice grew stronger as his thoughts sluggishly clicked into place.

    ¡®It is strange they did not flee somewhere else in the eighth circle.¡¯

    She murmured, and he nodded agreement.

    ¡®Right, they chose to come here, a longer and riskier journey. That means the reward should logically be greater if they succeeded. Not only that, but they were travelling the road towards for the pillar.¡¯

    He slapped a weathered sandstone brick.

    ¡®And what have we now found at the exit?¡¯

    Kalistra straightened.

    ¡®The guards. You think the insects knew they were here?¡¯

    ¡®I do. Not just the guards either. There is likely a force of some kind beyond those walls, one large enough to maybe act against Belphegor. Why else would the insects come all this way?¡¯

    ¡®A large force¡­¡¯

    Kalistra frowned thoughtfully.

    ¡®I don¡¯t recall that style of uniform they¡¯re wearing, which means that they¡¯re likely not with the local authorities.¡¯

    ¡®The Sovereign then?¡¯

    ¡®Maybe. I just don¡¯t know why they would be down in the seventh circle.¡¯

    ¡®Well, whoever it is, I think it¡¯s safe to say we shouldn¡¯t rush the entrance.¡¯

    Mickie said, adding this new, unknown player to his mental board.

    ¡®Which means that it¡¯s time to find another way in.¡¯

    Kalistra sighed and pushed herself back to her feet.

    ¡®I suppose you¡¯re right. Last thing we want to do is get stuck out for so long a blood storm hits.¡¯

    The duo sneaked right up to the point where the raised road met the tall wall. This close they could hear the low buzz of voices from the contingent guarding the entrance, the demons tucked away out of sight. Mickie strained to listen in, trying to piece together who they were, but all he could make out was the occasional word spoken with emphasis.

    Kalistra was examining the wall itself, scratching at the cut stone with a clawed finger. She pulled away as if burned, glaring at the rock like it had insulted her. Mickie made his way over, unable to ask what the issue was with the guards so close. The gorgon gave him a small shake of the head, indicating he should not go near the smooth stone.

    Currently, they were right beneath the point where the arched length of the road met the wall of the city. The curve of the stone highway provided them with a shadowed recess in which to hide. Soon though, they would need to move out, follow the curve where the sandy dunes broke against the high wall in search of an entrance.

    A familiar roar had both him and Kalistra hunching back into cover, pressing into the sand. It was the sound of another flying machine, the engine spluttering to life with a reluctant grumble. They waited until the transport had lifted out of the pillar city and faded from hearing before making their move. He and Kalistra darted out from beneath the road and moved at a steady pace along the wall. Mickie waited until the guards were well out of earshot before murmuring a question to his companion.

    ¡®No chance of us climbing up then?¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s slitted eyes were roving their surroundings, hunting for a gap in the stone or signs of pursuit.

    ¡®Actually, I was checking to see if we could burrow through. I could weaken the stone with my abilities, and we could carve a hole.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s hummed appreciatively.

    ¡®Solid plan. Why won¡¯t it work?¡¯

    ¡®The wall is transcribed. Likely with runes to detect and prevent tampering.¡¯

    ¡®Really? I didn¡¯t see any.¡¯

    ¡®They won¡¯t be accessible from the outside.¡¯

    Kalistra paused, taking a moment to think.

    ¡®I sensed them when I scratched the rock.¡¯

    ¡®And what about climbing?¡¯

    ¡®I doubt they have active rune protection against that, though they would likely detect it if we tried to scale the rock.¡¯

    Mickie glanced up the shear stone face, noting a lack of useful handholds. He doubted they would be able to make the climb anyway. Ahead of them another raised came into view around the bend of the wall. The pair fell silent as they approached, both he and Kalistra expecting more guards at this entrance.

    Under the next road, the two of them took a moment to pause and gather themselves. That hike had been risky. Necessary, but risky. The low buzz of the guards overhead pressed silence upon Mickie, and he took a moment to consider their next dash forward. It seemed like the dunes were flatter along this next section of wall. It would mean less cover from anyone that chanced a look in their direction. Mickie craned his neck, catching sight of something tucked around the corner, a splash of red on the yellowed sand.

    It took a few more moments of straining and leaning before he realised what he was seeing. Blood, a stagnant pond of congealed crimson, that was pressed up against the wall. Mickie squinted, trying his best to make out the body of liquid. Kalistra had mentioned that the lakes were boiling, but by all appearances this one seemed still as a pond after rain. He waived the gorgon over and pointed it out. After a few moments of observation, she gave him a small shrug. Looked like his companion wasn¡¯t sure either.

    Short break over, the duo moved onwards, heading right for blood pool. As they neared it, a rancid smell filled the air, like meat rotting in a rusty bowl. It sat at the back of Mickie¡¯s throat, and he had to work a spike of nausea down. The dunes became low enough to see over, and he caught sight of a tightly packed bone wood, reaching towards the city wall with fingers of cracked earth. When they came upon the blood pool it took Mickie longer than it should have to realise what he was seeing.

    It was less a lake of red than a stagnant pond, squatting in the shadow of the wall like a tick on the side of an elephant. Beyond the pool was a shaped region of sand that Mickie might have called a run-off, snaking down into the twisted boughs of the bone wood.

    ¡®It¡¯s a drainage system.¡¯

    ¡®A what?¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s face was pinched in disgust at the foul air.

    ¡®A drainage system. For the blood from the storms.¡¯

    Mickie was growing more certain, elaborating as he examined the gory pond and city wall.

    ¡®I guess you might not know about it, doesn¡¯t rain much in hell. But these blood storms you mentioned would dump a lot on liquid on the inside of these walls. This looks like where all that blood ends up running after the rain is done.¡¯

    He found what he was looking for, hunched just above the congealed surface of viscera. A dark hole leading into the wall.

    ¡®Which means, there would have to be an outlet. One that leads into the city.¡¯

    With satisfaction he indicated the drain, only to find Kalistra staring at him with a mixture of disgust and disbelief.

    ¡®You see where that thing is right?¡¯

    It was true that the drain was in an inconvenient spot, centred on the far side of the stagnant pool. The thought of wading into the stinking blood was not appealing to Mickie, but he would do what was required to get into the city.

    ¡®Sure, but look how big the drain is, easily enough space for us to crawl through.¡¯

    ¡®And what if there¡¯s a grate or something blocking the inside?¡¯

    ¡®You can handle a bit of metal. Just turn it to stone.¡¯

    ¡®And if the bars have been Transcribed like the walls?¡¯

    Mickie sighed.

    ¡®I didn¡¯t know you were squeamish.¡¯

    Kalistra shot him a withering glare through her aviators.

    ¡®Squeamish? You think I can¡¯t handle a bit of blood? Don¡¯t you remember what the arena was like?¡¯

    She snapped, but Mickie did not miss the way her hair fixated upon the pond, coiling away from it as if preparing to strike. The branded man sucked his teeth, stopping himself from pressing her any further.

    ¡®All right. Even if the drain is sealed with runes we need to check. This might be our only option for a sneaky way inside. I¡¯m going to head over and take a look, and if we can get through then I¡¯ll signal you.¡¯

    If anything, the gorgon seemed more irritated by his attempt at tact. She took a deep breath in, exhaled through flared nostrils, and stepped towards the pond. With deft movements she rolled her cargo pants up to the knee. Mickie paused for a moment, baffled, before following suit with his jeans.

    ¡®Alright. Here we go.¡¯

    Mickie came up alongside Kalistra at the pool¡¯s edge, judging the distance to the open drain. It was only a handful of meters and would hardly take any time to cover. Yet as his foot met the viscous surface of blood and was sucked in, the branded man felt it was suddenly much further.

    As it turned the pond was not very deep. By the time he and Kalistra slogged their way to the drainpipe, coughing and trying not to breathe through the nose, the blood was only halfway up his calf. It put the wide outlet at a perfect height for accessibility, and the duo clambered into its dry interior with an eagerness that bordered on frantic. Kalistra made a sound that was a mixture of a growl and gasp, before giving Mickie the kind of look he might expect from a demon that could turn things to stone.

    The interior of the drain was not large enough for either of them to stand up, so they were sitting with backs to the pipe¡¯s curve, blood-soaked shins held away from their bodies. Mickie tried to settle his churning guts as he stripped of his jacket, and then his fake metal band t-shirt. He bundled of the fabric up as Kalistra gave him an odd look.

    ¡®Please don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re planning to dive back in.¡¯

    Mickie chuckled and used the shirt to clean the blood off his body.

    ¡®Not at all, just making myself presentable.¡¯

    He got his legs as clean as he could, then recalled the shirt, leaning away as the blood it held slopped onto the curved stone.

    ¡®Alright, shall we?¡¯

    He made to crawl onwards only to find the gorgon giving him a narrow eyed stare, blocking the path with an arm. The branded man gave her a grin and summoned his shirt again, feeling the tug of power as it came back clean. On his chest the amulet grew warm, and the power he had expended was swiftly replaced.

    ¡®Very amusing.¡¯

    Kalistra said dryly as he tossed his clean shirt to her. The gorgon spent considerably longer than he had cleaning her legs before flicking the soaked bundle back at him. Mickie swiftly recalled the shirt before he got a face full of bloody cloth, then resummoned it and donned his jacket.

    The pair turned their attention towards the interior of the pipe, stretching out like a portal into darkness. Mickie pulled their orb lamp from a pocket and passed it forward. Kalistra held the light source out and they started a slow crawl into the desert city¡¯s underbelly. It was not long until their passage was barred, several dark steel bars driven right into the stone. Mickie glance around Kalistra as she examined the metal, trying to see if there were any runes carved into its surface.

    ¡®What¡¯s the verdict? Can we bust through?¡¯

    Kalistra did not respond immediately, reaching out to scratch at the steel before grasping and shaking one of the bars.

    ¡®Looks like there was something transcribed on this once, but it¡¯s faded now.¡¯

    ¡®That can happen?¡¯

    ¡®Not easily, but it can. And the blood rain of the seventh circle can be particularly damaging.¡¯

    Then, to his surprise, the gorgon pulled back an arm and drove a scaled fist into one of the metal bars. There a ringing crack and the bar bounced down the tunnel, broken free where it met the rock.

    ¡®Shoddy work. Whoever installed this should have realised the blood would wear it down.¡¯

    Kalistra commented and proceed to hammer free a path forward.

    ¡®Don¡¯t look a gift horse in the mouth.¡¯

    Mickie said once she was done, following his companion deeper into the city. They began to pass smaller pipes that fed into their larger drain, runoffs into the city¡¯s main output. The duo stuck to the wider path, following it until they reached in intersection. Kalistra glanced down both passages before casting him a look over one shoulder. The light of the lamp played off her serpentine hair, casting dancing shadows across weathered stone.

    ¡®Any particular preference?¡¯

    ¡®Gorgon¡¯s choice.¡¯

    She huffed an amused noise before taking the split to the left. As they crawled Mickie began to hear the city above echoing through the narrower pipes. A distant buzz of voices and background clatter of movement. The sound grew as they progressed, and when they reached another intersection, it was clear in which direction the surface lay.

    The duo followed the sound and came across a grate baring a narrow passage in the pipe¡¯s ceiling. As Mickie watched a shadow passed overhead as a something moved above. The tromp of footsteps rang down into the drain.

    ¡®Must be a street, and a busy one too. I¡¯m thinking we try to find something quieter.¡¯

    He whispered and Kalistra nodded. The grates marked out before them by lines of light splayed across the stone. When the gorgon next halted it was at a new opening. The drain led into something akin to a service chamber, a cylindrical space with tunnels feeding off in various directions. Rungs of dark metal were set into a wall, leading up to a solid manhole.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡®Looks like a service entry.¡¯

    Mickie made his way to the ladder and rested a hand on one of the rungs. The metal felt flaky and brittle beneath his grasp, weak as the bars Kalistra had recently broken. He cautiously pulled his way up, careful not to put too much weight on any particular rung. At the manhole he paused and listened. The sounds from above were distant, hopefully far enough away that no one would notice his exit. Mickie reached up and shifted the steel covering aside, crawling out and into a shadowed alleyway.

    He made space for Kalistra, moving beside a wall while taking in the city. The town surrounding the exit pillar was different to any of the districts he had encountered whilst fleeing the eighth circle. The buildings were squat constructions of yellow stone, the same material as the wall encompassing the space. Dried blood was evident in the alley¡¯s stone floor, making it appear as if the street itself were a festering wound on the face of the seventh circle.

    Sticking to shadows and attempting to stay casual, Mickie moved towards the alley¡¯s edge, peering out into the broader street beyond. The sound emanating from avenue was boisterous, and Mickie stuck his head out into a maelstrom of overlapping voices and shifting demons. It appeared the street held some form of Bazaar, with fabric covered stands lining the thoroughfare. There was a notable lack of humans amongst the throng, with most locals being short furry demons with broad, toadlike faces. Mickie also saw several craggy rock demons, lumbering their way through the masses.

    Then he caught sight of something that made him duck low. Demons patrolling the street in the same uniforms as the guards at the city¡¯s entrance. The armed group moved through the throng like a shark through minnows, untouched and swift. Mickie dragged his head back into the alley before he was spotted. It looked like his guess that there was another force in the city was on the money.

    Kalistra emerged from the manhole and came to crouch beside him. He whispered to her about the armed patrol and together they waited for the patrol to move by. Their passage was marked by the quieting of the crowds, so he and the gorgon waited until the street was back to its prior roar.

    ¡®It¡¯s a shame there¡¯s so many short demons out there. It¡¯ll be hard for us to fly under the radar, even in a crowd of that size.¡¯

    Mickie mused.

    ¡®And both you and I are conspicuous. Even if the city¡¯s residents are not familiar with the arena bouts, gorgon¡¯s and mortals are a rare sight here.¡¯

    ¡®Because of the heat?¡¯

    ¡®For you mortals maybe, but us gorgons are naturally resilient to it.¡¯

    Kalistra turned away from the street, and her voice deepened with a wistful undercurrent.

    ¡®My people are just not all that common, we tend to stand out.¡¯

    ¡®Makes sense. Any thoughts on how we get to the exit then?¡¯

    The gorgon leant against a wall, keeping to the shadows.

    ¡®We need to get a handle on the situation, get an understanding of who this new group is and why they are in the city.¡¯

    Mickie rubbed his jaw.

    ¡®While I don¡¯t like it, I think our best shot would be to wait for Miz-Mag. Even if we need to hide in the drain for a while.¡¯

    ¡®I agree, though I do not think we need to hurry back underground quite yet. It would be worthwhile to observe and rest in shifts.¡¯

    Though the reason she offered up made sense, Kalistra quashed the option of returning to the sewers a little too readily to be convincing. Mickie was not exactly eager to head back into the grimy underground either.

    ¡®Yeah, alright.¡¯

    He slumped against a wall, letting the weariness of their journey here roll over him.

    ¡®But you¡¯re on first watch.¡¯

    Kalistra sighed, but shifted her attention back to the street.

    ¡®Very well. I¡¯ll wake you if I see anything.¡¯

    <hr>

    The noise of the desert city was such that Mickie had expected some difficulty falling asleep. He must have been up longer than he had first thought, because in what felt like moments Kalistra was nudging him awake. Mickie emerged from a dream about a monstrous machine that was powered by blood. It took his sleep addled mind a moment to adjust, but soon he was taking his place at the alley¡¯s entrance.

    As Mickie watched it seemed that the bazaar was beginning to wind down, with some stalls packing it in and the crowds thinning out. He supposed there would have to be some form of work cycle to the place, same as in the city, but Mickie had no ability to track time under the constant cavern-light. It was a concerning development. The throng of demons had provided him and Kalistra with cover, and they would be at greater risk if it were to disperse.

    Miz-Mag popped into existence as Mickie was tracking the movements of a patrol group. The little fiend had squinted blearily for a moment before taking in the city. Mickie updated his companion and send the grumbling demon on a scouting mission to the distant pillar. Time crept on and the bazaar grew increasingly quiet. He was just contemplating a move into the drainage system when something changed.

    It was a subtle shift, a change in the demeanour of the locals rather than their actions. A low ululation of conversation preceding heightened attentiveness. Demons were suddenly casting looks over their shoulders and rushing purchases at shops. Mickie knew that kind reaction. Something had spooked the city¡¯s residents, and if the increased fervour of their escape was any indication, it was coming this way.

    In the distance a voice echoed across the sun scorched stone, the angry whipcrack of a growled command. Wary now, Mickie shuffled deeper into the alley, shaking Kalistra¡¯s shoulder until he was certain the demon was awake.

    ¡®Something¡¯s happening.¡¯

    He moved to the open manhole, preparing to make a swift getaway, but unwilling to leave immediately. Kalistra appeared to have caught onto the urgency of the situation because the gorgon was upright and alert, making her way towards him.

    ¡®What is it?¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t know. Had the demons running off the streets though. Maybe some of the guards?¡¯

    The pair hunkered down; aware how dangerous it would be to be spotted but unwilling to pass up getting a peek for themselves. Beyond the alley the snapping voices grew louder, voices finally becoming distinct.

    ¡®¡­don¡¯t care what your orders are, we¡¯ve got our own and we¡¯ll damn well follow them.¡¯

    A pause as another voice spoke, too soft to make out.

    ¡®The Sovereign don¡¯t pay my bills. Belphegor does, so you can take your chain of command and¡­¡¯

    He lost track of what was being said as the group stomped by. Demons dressed in the dark combat gear of the enforcers, at least three dozen of them heading in the direction of the central pillar. Mickie kept his breath calm and body low, willing the group to pass by without glancing down the alley. When the talkative demon came into view it was trailed by a meek looking creature garbed in the white and blue colours of the guards they had seen. An envoy or spokesperson then.

    ¡®The General will not stand for this. Belphegor is well beyond its designated purview.¡¯

    A harsh bark of laughter echoed down the alley walls, and Mickie was glad for the malice it contained. A conversation this tense would keep the attention away from them.

    ¡®There is no way the old chimera has trekked all the way down here.¡¯

    The response was lost to him as the demons passed beyond the alley and out of earshot. Mickie stayed still, until the tromp of boots had almost faded into the distance, then he turned sharply to Kalistra.

    ¡®Quickly, let¡¯s move.¡¯

    While the enforcer¡¯s passing had been tense, the time following it was heavy with opportunity. Mickie shot to his feet and made for the end of the alley.

    ¡®Stop! What are you doing?¡¯

    Kalistra hissed from behind.

    ¡®Following those demons.¡¯

    Mickie paused near the opening to the street.

    ¡®We can use them as cover. All the locals are hiding right now because of those enforcers, but I doubt they will be for much longer. If we follow the big scary group, we can use them as cover. They were heading towards the centre.¡¯

    They could not waste any more time. Mickie stepped onto the scorched street and hoped Kalistra would follow him.

    ¡®I thought you were sending Miz-Mag scouting? This feels like this is a bad idea.¡¯

    For all she objected, the gorgon fell into step with him almost immediately. It left Mickie feeling strangely warm, and he hurried to explain himself.

    ¡®Look, there¡¯s no way we were going to make it to the exit without some difficulty. Miz-Mag¡¯s out looking right now, but it¡¯s not going to report good news if the talk of those demons was anything to go by.¡¯

    He glanced into the darkened windows of the nearby houses, checking for eyes.

    ¡®We need to take the opportunity to escape when it¡¯s presented to us.¡¯

    ¡®Did you not hear them talking?¡¯

    Kalistra whispered back, as they skulked through the shadows cast by an overhanging balcony.

    ¡®Belphegor is here, and that other demon mentioned the Sovereign. I don¡¯t want to walk into the middle of that conflict.¡¯

    ¡®Neither do I, that¡¯s why we use it as a distraction to slip past.¡¯

    They reach an intersection between streets, but Mickie did not slow. He could he the faint echoes of the enforcers up ahead, and they were still moving towards the towering pillar. Kalistra ducked her head and sped across the open intersection, wary of any wayward eyes that might fall upon them.

    The distant pillar of yellow stone loomed ever larger, until finally the duo caught up to the group of enforcers. Mickie and Kalistra came upon them at the point where the street ended, opening into a broad stretch of open space before the towering exit. Mickie noted that the large group was not alone, other enforcers were forming up around the large courtyard. He hardly got more than a cursory glance before Kalistra pulled him into a narrow side street.

    ¡®Do you want to get spotted?¡¯

    ¡®Sorry, I was trying to see what was happening. It looks like they¡¯re surrounding the exit.¡¯

    Kalistra sighed, her serpentine hair twisting with agitation. A small snake curled about the frame of her aviators and began to pull them aside. Mickie glanced away while the gorgon readjusted her glasses.

    ¡®It seems clear to me that Belphegor is antagonising the Sovereign¡¯s forces within the city, though I am unsure why.¡¯

    Mickie gave the street on which they were huddled a once over. Narrow, windowless buildings, taller than those near the walls. No sign of life apart from them.

    ¡®It would be good to find out.¡¯

    ¡®Our escape should take priority.¡¯

    The gorgon reminded him.

    ¡®Yeah, sorry, on target. You got any ideas? I¡¯m not sure how safe rushing an angry demon army would be.¡¯

    Kalistra gave him a pointed look.

    ¡®Is that not what I told you?¡¯

    ¡®Well, sure, but we made it here, didn¡¯t we?¡¯

    She begrudgingly gave him the point on that, rolling her neck and settling her attention upon the pillar.

    ¡®If the wall was guarded then I imagine the pillar will be too. We could try the sewer system?¡¯

    ¡®I thought about that, but it likely won¡¯t extend under the pillar. No need to collect blood from a sealed chunk of stone.¡¯

    ¡®I see.¡¯

    Kalistra replied, her toned faintly coloured by relief.

    ¡®Then I¡¯m not sure, we might have to break through Belphegor¡¯s forces.¡¯

    ¡®No way forward but through.¡¯

    Mickie agreed and shifted his attention to the rocky walls hiding them.

    ¡®Which means we¡¯ll need to scope out whatever¡¯s going down.¡¯

    <hr>

    It was surprisingly easy to climb the sides of the buildings in the alley. The rock was cut smooth, but was not laid evenly, providing ample jutting handholds they could use. Factoring in Mickie¡¯s pact enhanced strength, he just about flew up the side of the wall. It was when the branded man peeked his head onto the rooftop that he encountered a speed bump.

    Huddled a small distance away, overlooking the open space before the exit pillar, was an enforcer. The demon was a mean and lean imp, lying flat to avoid the notice of its enemies below. Kalistra pulled up alongside him and raised an eyebrow. Mickie motioned towards the concealed assailant and the gorgon looked for herself, before dropping back into cover and giving him a nod. She pulled herself onto the rooftop and vanished from sight.

    By the time Mickie¡¯s momentary surprise had faded and he followed her up, Kalistra had crossed the dozen or so meters of slanted stone. She had the shocked imp¡¯s head in one hand, and Mickie watched on as the wide-eyed expression on the creature¡¯s face shifted to stone. The branded man slunk to his companion¡¯s side, and she offered him a slice of rooftop with an exaggerated wave.

    Before taking his spot, Mickie spent a moment checking for other shooters on the surrounding buildings. Their unfortunate fiend had chosen its spot well though, hidden by the slant of the roof and taller buildings on either side. If there were other demons on high, they were unlikely to spot the mortal and gorgon.

    Mickie lay down in the imp¡¯s vacated position, Kalistra huddling low beside him. They faced the open expanse of the courtyard head on, with only a single short building blocking part of the view. The space itself was a semicircle on the side of the pillar, outlined by the straight lines of buildings and punctured by multiple streets.

    Where each of the broader avenues met the open space, Belphegor¡¯s forces were gathering and setting up barriers for cover. The sound of it was astounding, the barking of orders and clanking of equipment undercut by the hum of general activity. It provided ample cover through which he and Kalistra could converse.

    ¡®Look, you see them?¡¯

    Kalistra nodded towards the giant pillar that towered over the square like the trunk of a monstrous tree. Its base was carved into something resembling the fa?ade of a building, though one far larger than any in the surrounding courtyard. A giant arched doorway sealed the entrance, and multiple balconies led into the stone interior. It was these shadowed recesses that Kalistra now indicated, and Mickie could make out figures moving within.

    ¡®The Sovereign¡¯s lot. I wonder how many of them are in there.¡¯

    ¡®Fewer than Belphegor has. Why else would they retreat?¡¯

    The serpentine warrior whispered after a moment¡¯s thought.

    ¡®The Sovereign¡¯s soldiers are far on average more powerful than the enforcers. Even if this is this is a smaller division, they won¡¯t be weak.¡¯

    ¡®And we¡¯ll need to get passed them.¡¯

    Mickie concluded grimly, examining the demons in the square as they finished setting up barricades. A hush was settling over the gathered forces as they completed their work, orders for silence rippling through the crowd. The duo watched with laser intent as a small group exited one of the streets and walked into the open courtyard. Mickie made out a collection of blue and white uniforms driven forward by the enforcers, all orbiting around a central figure. A red skinned demon in a dark suit, walking with a lazy confidence.

    ¡®Belphegor.¡¯

    The branded man hissed. Mickie¡¯s old captor strode to the centre of the semicircle and waited for its retinue to settle. The fiends in the Sovereign¡¯s colours were forced to their knees, and Mickie realised belatedly who they were. Messengers sent to meet with the incoming enforcers, like the one who walked with the group they had trailed.

    Figures began to appear on the pillar¡¯s balconies, demons in the Sovereign¡¯s colours stepping forward to glare upon the unfolding spectacle. Belphegor smiled confidently up at them, waiting until all movement had ceased before speaking.

    ¡®Hello friends, how nice it is to see you mingling with us folk in the lower circles.¡¯

    The sound of the lord¡¯s voice turned a handle in the back of Mickie¡¯s brain, one he had not known was there. A spike of panic coursed through the branded man, it was the urge to run, and the knowledge that he could not. A remnant of his time spent in the bowels of the arena. Hours spent with nothing but Belphegor¡¯s ramblings and Illiath¡¯s cold presence. Mickie crushed the emotions, pushing them away with a spike of anger. He had escaped Belphegor, had killed Illiath. They would have no further hold over him.

    Below the old lord had let the silence drag following its words, perhaps waiting for a response that never came. If its failure to garner any attention miffed Belphegor, the fiend did not show it.

    ¡®Come now, there¡¯s no need for this tension between us. I came for a chat, so how about we hash things out? Are all not united under the grace given Sovereign?¡¯

    It spoke the last final words with a faux pomposity that finally dragged a reaction from its stoic opposition.

    ¡®Belphegor. You have overstepped, and by far too much this time. The Sovereign will see you fall for this.¡¯

    A demon had pushed its way to the front on one of the higher balconies. It was a tall creature, a beast with the body of a human, the head of a monkey, and several reptilian tales flicking behind it.

    ¡®Amalgal, is that you? Ever the vain little spliceling aren¡¯t you?¡¯

    Beside him Kalistra¡¯s breath caught, and she leaned in close, whispering low.

    ¡®That¡¯s a chimera.¡¯

    Mickie nodded, showing he understood, but not knowing why it was such a big deal. The gorgon seemed to think he was missing something because she sighed, leaning in again.

    ¡®It¡¯s a chimera under the Sovereign¡¯s command, they all belong to the same division.¡¯

    This time he settled for giving her a blank look.

    ¡®Under Asmodeus.¡¯

    She finished, dropping the words like a judge¡¯s gavel.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know who that is.¡¯

    Mickie replied dryly, and Kalistra rolled her eyes in exasperation. Before she could explain any further, they were both drawn back to the confrontation.

    ¡®Go back to the eighth Belphegor. You have nothing to gain from confronting us.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, believe me, I shall. But first, I¡¯m going to need you to return something to me.¡¯

    ¡®And what would that¡­¡¯

    The chimera, Amalgal, was cut off as a figure stumbled forward into the light of its balcony. Unlike the other demons holed up at the pillar, this one had no colours adorning its body. Instead, it was comprised of gleaming chitin, and spoke with a familiar buzz.

    ¡®Belphegor! You underhanded wretch! You will suffer for what you did to our mother.¡¯

    An insect from the hive, Mickie realised with start. It seemed that the hunting party they spotted had failed to silence all the loose tongues. On the balcony Amalgal caught the insect about the neck and tossed it bodily back into the shadows. The chimera turned sharply back to the old lord, straightening a rumple in its uniform.

    ¡®What it said is true Belphegor. We know of what you did to the Hive, and it is a step too far. You have been too greedy in amassing power for yourself, in direct contradiction to the Sovereign¡¯s will. There shall be consequences for this.¡¯

    Belphegor laughed in delight.

    ¡®Ah, how I have missed your ostentatious prattle. I do have to wonder though, why are you here and not bumbling along on our righteous ruler¡¯s crusade?¡¯

    Amalgal straightened, a spike of pride hitting its spine and bleeding into its voice.

    ¡®I am here on the Sovereign¡¯s direct orders. This is not the first we have heard of your transgressions Belphegor. We know you have been skulking about the seventh for some time. Now that you are here, perhaps you can aid in our investigation.¡¯

    For the first time, the smartly dressed fiend seemed taken aback. Just as Mickie saw it, so did the chimera.

    ¡®Don¡¯t tell me you thought you were being subtle? The Sovereign¡¯s reach is long, and its eyes many. We would know what it is you have been travelling up here for.¡¯

    There was a hint of glee in the demon¡¯s voice now, and perhaps that was what caused it to miss the danger in Belphegor¡¯s response.

    ¡®Unlike you, I do not serve the Sovereign. I am old cohort, the Sloth of the Seven, and I do as I wish.¡¯

    ¡®You may have flaunted Lucifer¡¯s command without reprisal, but Mizaraphel is not so weak. You should stand down and explain yourself, perhaps then the Sovereign may let you live.¡¯

    Belphegor laughed again, but this time there was no joy in it. A low, huffing chuckle that echoed through the dead quiet of the open space.

    ¡®I have a better idea.¡¯

    The old lord waved a lazy hand towards the captive messengers, all kneeling with heavyset enforcers standing guard behind them. In a ragged, uncoordinated line the demons withdrew an assortment of sharp weapons and implements. Belphegor looked up to the balcony and smiled as the captives all had their heads removed, waiting until the grisly work was done before speaking.

    ¡®Amalgal, my friend, that is what I think of the Sovereign¡¯s authority.¡¯

    The monkey faced chimera let loose a shriek of outrage and leant out over the balcony to berate Belphegor. However, it hardly got more than a word out before the repeated crack of gunfire rang through the plaza. All the hidden snipers on the various rooftops had fired upon Amalgal, and the demon¡¯s head disappeared in a gory cloud. There was a long, silent moment as every pair of eyes watched the headless corpse topple forward, over the balcony¡¯s barrier and towards the rocky ground. It trailed blood in a crimson line as it went, meeting the hard stones with a wet splat that shook the observers from their reveries.

    Up in the tower a call to fire went out. Gunshots began to rain down on Belphegor¡¯s position, but the demon hardly seemed to notice. Mickie wondered if the weapons could even penetrate the old monster¡¯s skin as it strolled back to its huddled forces.

    ¡®We need to go, they¡¯ll be searching the rooftops.¡¯

    Kalistra hissed into his ear. They clambered back towards the street as the battle got underway, both sides hammering fire at one another. Mickie attempted to make sense of Belphegor¡¯s actions as he climbed. If the old lord had wanted to break from the Sovereign¡¯s authority, there surely should have been better way to go about doing it.

    All that killing the captives and Amalgum would achieve was ensuring the remaining forces stayed holed up in the exit pillar. Too angry to flee and too pinned to try an attack. The brutish display of power did not mesh with the cunning lord that Mickie knew. Belphegor was a creature that had plans within plans. It likely meant there was some secondary objective to the attack that he could not puzzle out.

    Reaching the bloodstained cobbles of the city street, Mickie paused and waited for Kalistra to join him. The gorgon dropped the last few feet, landing with a hard thud that knocked her glasses askew. Pushing them back onto her face, she straightened.

    ¡®Well, I cannot say I expected that to happen. Not sure it helps us either.¡¯

    Mickie pulled his thoughts away from Belphegor.

    ¡®Yeah, I doubt charging through the killing field for the entrance would be a good idea.¡¯

    A sudden thought came to him.

    ¡®But what about the balconies?¡¯

    ¡®You mean climbing out way inside? Didn¡¯t I already tell you the pillar would have inscriptions like the walls?¡¯

    ¡®Sure.¡¯

    Mickie said, rubbing his chin.

    ¡®But if it¡¯s some kind of alarm system, it¡¯s probably already going ballistic. There¡¯s a small army shooting at the rock as we speak.¡¯

    His point was punctuated by shouts and the rattle of gunfire. Kalistra frowned in thought, clawed fingers drumming her thigh.

    ¡®I suppose. The runes here are likely old.¡¯

    She sighed.

    ¡®Sure, lets give it a go. I don¡¯t see how else we could make our way inside.¡¯

    The duo circled the towering pillar, away from the plaza and into an area where the city pressed right up against its steep surface. Here the balconies hung scattered above the squat rooftops, infrequent and unoccupied. The only issue with these entry points, was their unreasonable height. Mickie and Kalistra would need to clamber up quite a distance to get into the pilar, a process that would leave them vulnerable for far too long. So, the duo searched, winding their way through the empty city streets while looking for a low hanging balcony. It was due to this exploration, that they found something else entirely.

    ¡®It has to be a trap, right?¡¯

    Mickie murmured, peering about the corner of an intersection and down a broad avenue.

    ¡®Maybe, but Belphegor¡¯s attack was a surprise. The Soverieign¡¯s forces should not have had time to lay a trap.¡¯

    Kalistra replied, just as quietly. The focus of the attention was a point at which the broad street met the pillar. A low set pair of doors lay open, unguarded and unoccupied. Mickie examined the service entrance like it was someone he suspected of lying, hunting for tells amongst the shadowy recesses. In the distance the sounds of battle still echoed, as if to remind him that yes, this was the very same stone pillar that was currently being fought over.

    ¡®Do we try it?¡¯

    He asked at length, giving Kalistra a look that matched the gorgon¡¯s unease.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know.¡¯

    She shifted her attention from him to the distant balconies, high above the city.

    ¡®Is it more of a risk than trying to climb?¡¯

    Mickie went silent for a time, weighing the options and finding neither to be particularly pleasant.

    ¡®You know what, let¡¯s back ourselves.¡¯

    He said.

    ¡®Even if we try to climb up, there¡¯s no guarantee the inscriptions won¡¯t rat us out. If I¡¯m going to fight, I¡¯d prefer not to be climbing when I do.¡¯

    Beside him the gorgon nodded slowly, her slitted gaze fixed upon the service entrance.

    ¡®Faster this way too.¡¯

    She straightened and stepped out into the open street, Mickie right on her heels. The pair made their way towards the open doors, moving slow and keeping to the shadows where they could. All that greeted their approach was silence, the darkened recess into the pillar revealing nothing. The open entrance was far too good to be true. Mickie¡¯s nerves thrummed a taut chord, expecting a blow that never came. The walk leading to the entrance should have made for a good ambush point, with buildings to house any number of assailants lining the street. Yet nothing disturbed their approach, and soon enough he and Kalistra were scuttling past the open doors and into the pillar.

    Once inside the tension ratcheted up even further. Mickie kept expecting every shadow to house an angry demon, and every corner to be an ambush in waiting. When something did appear, he almost fired on it out of sheer anticipation. They had rounded a corner and come across a mass of huddled forms, lining the dimly lit hall of carved stone. After his initial reaction had faded, Mickie realised that none of the hunched figures were moving.

    ¡®They are all the Sovereign¡¯s.¡¯

    Kalistra spoke softly, but the words held a wary weight. She approached one of the hunched bodies and poked it with a foot, the mass not so much as twitching. Mickie moved forward cautiously, seeing that his companion had been correct. Every one of the figures was clad in the colours of Hell¡¯s current ruler. Not only that, but there was red mixed in amongst the white and blue, the deep crimson of blood. There had been a force stationed at the service passage, but something had already killed them.

    ¡®Welp. At least we know now why the doors were open.¡¯

    Mickie said, straightening from the dead body of a tall demon.

    ¡®I imagine Belphegor is behind this.¡¯

    Kalistra replied from nearby.

    ¡®I¡¯d say so. Give¡¯s the attack on the tower some context too.¡¯

    ¡®A distraction?¡¯

    Mickie nodded.

    ¡®Yep, and seeing as no one has come to check in on this lot, it was an effective one.¡¯

    There had to be at least a dozen demons strewn throughout the hall, but it did not take the duo long to confirm they were all dead. Mickie noted the wounds were not caused by bullets. These soldiers had died from ragged gashes, as if they had leant against the blades of a meat grinder. It filled him with a mixture of relief and trepidation. There was no trap lying in wait for them, though perhaps something worse was ahead.

    With nothing further to gain from the bodies, he and Kalistra continued onwards. They walked the halls in silence for a time, listening as the sound of combat faded to nothing. Twice more the duo came across a group of dead demons, and both times there was no sign of what had caused the damage. Finishing his inspection of the final body in the second group, Mickie glanced up at an odd sound coming from the hall ahead. It was high and piercing, dragging out like the wail of an angry rodent.

    ¡®Did you hear that?¡¯

    ¡®Hear what?¡¯

    Mickie did not get the chance to elaborate as a small figure hurtled around the corner ahead of them. It let lose another cry as it charged, before skidding to a stop in front of the branded man. The new arrival was short, red, and very familiar to the branded man.

    ¡®Mag? What are you doing here?¡¯

    Miz-Mag was gasping for air, staring up at Mickie with frantic eyes. The tiny fiend gawped for a few moments, caught between trying to speak and regaining its breath.

    ¡®Kid? What are you? By the blood! You, you can¡¯t, you gotta, we gotta¡­¡¯

    His partner trailed off as a distant thudding echoed through the halls. Miz-Mag cast a terrified look over its shoulder.

    ¡®Mag, you alright? You seem a tad spooked.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, by the blood, it¡¯s coming. We got to run, get out of the pillar. You shouldn¡¯t have come here, should have waited for me.¡¯

    In the distance the thudding was growing louder, something heavy approaching at speed.

    ¡®What do you mean leave the tower? This is our way out of here.¡¯

    ¡®Forget that!¡¯

    Miz-Mag wailed, stumbling towards him with its eyes locked on the path ahead.

    ¡®The plan is a no go. Belphegor¡¯s too many steps ahead. Whole thing is a trap. We need to run.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s mind raced with questions. Why was Miz-Mag here? What had it been doing? How was this a trap? What was that loud thudding noise? As it turned out, he was due to receive a few answers. Following in the little demons wake through the stone passage, a massive figure flew around the corner. It slammed into a wall with an almighty crash, sending shards of rock out in a rain.

    The thing was a monster of shifting black plates, a multi limbed giant made of metal and fuelled by malice. It turned slowly to gaze upon them, and Mickie came face to face with a pair of gemstone eyes that were eerily familiar.

    ¡®Machine.¡¯

    Mickie whispered, and the monster took a heavy, thudding step forward. The moment its metal paw touched stone the world shook. For a moment Mickie thought it was the robot¡¯s doing, that it was powerful enough to shake the entire pillar. Then a thunderclap hit his ears, sending the mortal staggering back into Kalistra. The air was suddenly filled with the roar of a wrathful god. Mickie tried to regain his footing, but the stone bucked hard, throwing him against a wall.

    Ahead, he dimly noted, the robot had not approached any further. It stood stationary, metal limbs outstretched to the walls as the world shook. Not the machine then, something else. Mickie wanted to question Miz-Mag further, but he could hardly hear over the calamitous sound. Nearby, his little partner was huddled in cold embrace of a dead demon, eyes wide and mouth open.

    ¡®Oh boy.¡¯

    The tiny fiend muttered.

    ¡®We sure are in for it this time kid.¡¯

 23 â€“ Bug Under the Boot

    Miz-Mag hurried down the city street, heading towards the central pillar. It grumbled as it went, muttering a word each time it leapt between blood-stained cobbles.

    ¡®Damned, kid, making, me, do, all, the, work.¡¯

    It had not taken the tiny fiend long to adjust to its new surrounds. Miz-Mag had long grown accustomed to the jumps in consciousness caused by its strange bond with Mickie, even if they could be inconvenient. The foot of an oversized rock fiend swung overhead, and Miz-Mag swerved aside to avoid getting crushed.

    ¡®Watch it Stone Head!¡¯

    As was ever the case, the craggy demon did not so much as twitch at Miz-Mag¡¯s insult. The tiny fiend moved to stand beside a wall and out of the danger zone for a moment, taking stock of its position. Mickie had thrown it into the deep end for sure. Nothing but a brief explanation of some random new group of demons, followed by a command to scout out the exit. Miz-Mag had yet to even see this new force, and somehow it was supposed to figure out why they were here and how to get past them.

    The fiend sighed in exasperation and glanced over the busy street. Beyond the bazaar demons moved with purpose, with few loitering beside the squat sandstone buildings. Miz-Mag¡¯s eyes rolled across the locals as they passed, the common short and toadlike fiends, large rocky demons, and smattering of other types it could vaguely recall from within the eighth circle.

    Something caught Miz-Mag¡¯s eye within the crowd. A trio of figures, moving swiftly with robes and cowls hiding their features. Their movements were subdued to the point of suspicion amongst the boisterous throng, and they appeared to be heading in the direction of the central pillar. Miz-Mag attempted to work its way over to the trio through the sea of stomping feet, but was soon retreating to the safety of the wall.

    The demon cursed. It watched the figures fadeaway into the crowds and set off as fast as its little legs could carry it, this time running close to the wall. Miz-Mag was not certain if that hooded group was of interest, but it currently had little in the way of information, and they were heading in the right direction.

    Gradually, Miz-Mag tracked the suspicious trio through the streets and towards the exit pillar. At one stage it almost lost them when a guard patrol came by, the crowd scattering away from the assembly of blue and white. The robed figures had vanished, and Miz-Mag was beginning to think it might have to continue alone when they came back into view, walking casually out of an alley.

    By a stroke of luck, the alley from which they emerged was just ahead of Miz-Mag¡¯s position, and the fiend capitalised on the opportunity. It closed the remaining distance at a scrambling dash, just barely managing to catch the hem of a robe before it moved too deep into the crowd. Miz-Mag clambered up the billowing fabric and was jostled against something solid concealed within. Grunting out a curse, the demon dragged itself up and onto the robbed figures shoulder.

    From this height the view of the street was much improved, and the tiny fiend was surprised to find they were nearing the pillar. It had lost track of the sandstone tower in the thrill of the chase. Now though, it was near its goal and had a promising lead. Miz-Mag settled back on the cushioned shoulder, content in a job well done.

    <hr>

    When the guards came, they did so while Miz-Mag was trying to make out the face of its ride. The little fiend was dangling off the side of the hood, peering into its shadowed interior. Miz-Mag could make out skin that might have been red, though the jostling movement was making it hard to tell.

    ¡®What are you? Are juiced up kangaroo? Hold still a moment.¡¯

    Almost as if in response to its request the robbed demon came to an abrupt top. Miz-Mag was almost thrown from its precarious perch and swore loudly as it swung wildly.

    ¡®Well, one might see your appearance and think you had something to hide.¡¯

    The voice was oddly high, tapering off with a laugh that was closer to the bray of some furred animal. It did not take Miz-Mag long to find the source. A group of figures in blue and white uniforms had emerged from an alley and were swiftly surrounding the cowled trio. At their head was a markedly odd demon, a large beast with the head of a goat but limbless body of a serpent.

    ¡®By the blood, ain¡¯t you a looker. How do you even dress yourself in the morning?¡¯

    Miz-Mag sighed, its comment going unheard. If Mickie were here he would have found that funny. Maybe.

    ¡®Come now.¡¯

    The goat headed snake said with another braying laugh.

    ¡®There¡¯s no need to be so tense. We are out here for your own safety.¡¯

    Beneath Miz-Mag¡¯s feet, the demon stirred. It robes billowed and there was a gleam of steel beneath the fabric. There was sudden shout, the crack of gunfire and suddenly Miz-Mag was falling, the demon upon which it stood folding like paper. The tiny fiend leapt free from its hooded host and scuttled to safety before risking a look back at the scene.

    Two of the robed figures were lying in bloody heaps on the ground, while the third was dangling in the air. Miz-Mag stared in apprehension at the coils of scaled muscle binding the demon. The goat-serpent had grasped the survivor with its tail, and was drawing it close, blowing aside the hood with a rasping breath.

    ¡®You would attack the Sovereign¡¯s own?¡¯

    There was no laughter in the patrol leader¡¯s voice now, not with two of its own also feeding the bloodstained cobbles. Miz-Mag swore it could hear the creaking of bone as the serpent¡¯s tail tightened about its captive. The robed demon groaned, mouth agape in an attempt to gather air.

    ¡®Search the others.¡¯

    The goat commanded, and its remaining forces jumped to obey. They pulled aside the robes, revealing the concealed assailants and their firearms. Both the weapons and the demons looked familiar to Mickie. It had seen their like before in the black city.

    ¡®No identification, though they aren¡¯t local.¡¯

    One of the guards reported back to its unnerving leader. The goat head released a long, deep bleat, and peered at its captive.

    ¡®Yes. Eighth circle would be a safe guess. The question that remains, is to whom do you belong?¡¯

    The tail tightened further about the demon, and Mickie saw blood begin to run out of its gaping mouth.

    ¡®Come now, no need to be so aloof. You can tell me. Is it Belphegor? Has that dusty old lord come looking for its wayward prey?¡¯

    Only now did the goat-serpent give its victim the chance to speak. The tail loosened enough that the demon could take a ragged breath. It began to cough and splutter, crimson bile spilling forth from its lips. It took the return of pressure from the tail encasing it for the demon to finally cease its gasping and heave out an answer.

    ¡®C-came for the bug.¡¯

    ¡®Ahh, so it must be Belphegor then.¡¯

    The chimeric fiend bleated softly, allowing its victim the breath to speak.

    ¡®Yes. The lord. Came for the bug, and the Soul Lord¡¯s, chosen.¡¯

    Miz-Mag tensed up at that last part, and it caught the flare of interest from the goat.

    ¡®Chosen? What chosen?¡¯

    But the captive demon appeared to have regained a touch of its fiendish pride. The creature spat a wad of bloody phlegm into the goat¡¯s looming face.

    ¡®It does not matter. Not now the lord knows of the Sovereign¡¯s presence. You should have stuck to your crusade, slave. Now our lord will...¡¯

    The patrolling leader appeared not to take the rebuke well. Its tail began to squeeze tighter, cutting the captive off mid-sentence. The strangled demon made a noise that intermingled a sigh and a whimper as the air exited its lungs.

    ¡®I asked you a question. You would do well to answer.¡¯

    Except the demon could not answer, could not even get enough air to inhale as the serpentine leader crushed its body. Miz-Mag stood slowly from its spot on the cobbles and began moving towards one of the guards. The revelation that these were the Sovereigns forces did not feel altogether that surprising. It would be just their luck that Hell¡¯s big boss decided to pack it in and come back home as they were heading up.

    At least it seemed that the Sovereign did not know about Mickie. Miz-Mag might not know what had brought its forces here, but whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t them. Although, the tiny fiend mused, that might have changed if old goat gave its prisoner another chance to speak.

    ¡®Come now, you¡¯ve gone awfully quiet.¡¯

    The observation was followed by the bleating laugh. In the grip of the scaled tail the demon looked as though its head was about to pop off. Rivulets of blood ran from the fiend¡¯s eyes.

    ¡®Now, I¡¯ll give you one last chance. Tell me¡­¡¯

    CRACK.

    The sound echoed through the now empty street like the gunshots had before. In the coils of scaly flesh, the demon twitched violently once, then went limp as a wet rag. Miz-Mag burst out laughing at the surprised look on the goat-serpent¡¯s face.

    ¡®That¡¯s one way to make ¡®em talk.¡¯

    The chimeric demon gaped in silence for a few moments, before snapping its jaw shut with an audible click. It released the incognito enforcer, and the demon fell bonelessly to the floor.

    ¡®I forget how weak these bedraggled dogs are at times.¡¯

    There was a murmur of ascent from the surrounding guards, one that seemed to appease their leader. The serpentine body shifted, turning away from the dead demons and towards the central pillar.

    ¡®I need to report this. If Belphegor is coming, we must prepare.¡¯

    The goat bleated out a series of instructions to its followers, and Miz-Mag made sure to attach itself to the returning team. If it had to take a guess at where the Sovereign¡¯s force would be based, the central pillar would be a top pick. The patrol¡¯s chimeric leader led the way towards the towering monolith of yellow stone, crossing an open courtyard humming with activity.

    Inside, the tower was lit by chunks of glowing crystal, shaped and set into the roof of a carved tunnel. They turned off the wider entrance passage to ascend a flight of stairs. Miz-Mag glanced longing down the corridor, thinking that if the exit stairs were anywhere, they would be further down that passage. It had already decided to hear out the demon¡¯s report, however. There would be time to backtrack and locate the exit later. The small group came to a stop before an officious set of double doors, and the goat-headed serpent knocked with a flick of its tail.

    ¡®Enter.¡¯

    A muffled voice sounded from within, and the goat headed serpent pushed open the entrance to reveal a high ceilinged meeting chamber. A table dominated the space but beyond that was an opening leading to a balcony, one that overlooked the busy plaza. There were not many demons in the room, and Miz-Mag was quick to dismiss all but two as unimportant. One was a figure who was clearly the leader, standing where others sat, a fiend with the face of a monkey. The other was a lone insectile demon that Miz-Mag recognized from within the hive, sitting hunched and out of the way.

    ¡®Well, looks like old Belphegor let one slip the noose.¡¯

    The little demon mused as it clambered onto the table. If one of the insects was here, then the Sovereign knew about Belphegor¡¯s assassination attempt.

    ¡®Good move running to the seventh.¡¯

    Miz-Mag applauded, making its way over to the bug and giving one of its chitinous claws a good slap. The fiend jumped at the sensation, casting a wary look around as it rubbed the offending limb. As amusing as it was to taunt the bug, something nagged at Miz-Mag. It now knew why the leftover hive demons had run to the seventh, with the Sovereign¡¯s forces offering better prospects for protection and revenge. However, that would mean the bugs knew about the army¡¯s presence in the desert, while it seemed Belphegor did not. Miz-Mag turned to the room¡¯s chimeric leader. Hopefully there would be a chance to get some answers.

    ¡®You had a report to give?¡¯

    The monkey-headed demon asked after a lengthy silence. It was strange to see the large serpent chimera so subdued, but the fiend seemed downright nervous now it was facing its superior.

    ¡®Yes Commander. My team and I had an encounter within the city.¡¯

    There was an uncomfortable mixture of hesitance and enthusiasm to the goat, resulting in its words falling out in a jumble.

    ¡®We came across several suspicious individuals under cloaks, so we stopped them for questioning. Then they made to fire on us, so we subdued them.¡¯

    The demon paused as if to think, before starting abruptly.

    ¡®Oh, and they were under Belphegor. Came to assassinate the bug.¡¯

    A susurration rippled through the seated forms at the pronouncement. Beside Miz-Mag the lone insect when as rigid as they stone pillar they now occupied.

    ¡®I see. Was there anything else?¡¯

    The goat¡¯s serpentine body squirmed under the intense stare of its superior and it released a nervous bleat before continuing.

    ¡®The demon I question made it apparent that there might be more coming. It seemed to think Belphegor would not stand our presence.¡¯

    The monkey¡¯s face darkened with the promise of a storm.

    ¡®And who are they to speak against the will of the Sovereign? Where is this wretch you took captive?¡¯

    A hesitant silence overcame the goat-serpent as it seemed to wrestle with something. As bad at reading others as Miz-Mag was, even it could see the waring anxiety and desire. It did not take long for the desire to win out.

    ¡®I was overcome with wrath at the demon¡¯s words Commander. I crushed its bones until it broke like the weak thing it was.¡¯

    All in the room awaited their leader¡¯s response to that. Unsure if they would be seeing rage or approval.

    ¡®You overreached your preview by killing a captive without leave to do so.¡¯

    The monkey said at length, and Miz-Mag could have sworn it saw the fur grow pale on the goat¡¯s head.

    ¡®However, you did so in reaction to defiance of the Sovereign. I cannot fault that.¡¯

    The leader mulled something over momentarily.

    ¡®We were discussing our future movements on the sands when you arrived. Your information was relevant and your actions acceptable, you may stay for the discussion.¡¯

    ¡®Thank you, Commander.¡¯

    The goat all but gushed, pride and pleasure evident. It nodded its subordinates to the door before moving to take a position in the corner of the room. Miz-Mag was unsure what had just happened. Had that been the leader handing out a reward or something? Letting the bulky chimera sit in on a meeting? The little demon did not get why the bleating goat was so enthusiastic about it.

    ¡®So, we now know that Belphegor is aware of our presence within the city. Let us continue with the remaining reports. Lizalphus?¡¯

    A scaled demon with bulging eyes shifted, only ending the death stare it had been giving the goat chimera to focus upon the leader.

    ¡®Of course, Commander. As I was saying before we were interrupted, the disturbance reported at the plateau ruins appears to be growing.¡¯

    ¡®Growing?¡¯

    Another demon asked.

    ¡®What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡¯

    The lizard flicked the questioner an irritated look.

    ¡®It means that the noise coming from within the rocks has been rising. Though our scouts have yet to report a source.¡¯

    ¡®And the additional sensors?¡¯

    It was the monkey chimera interrupting now. The reporting demon did not through that one an angry look.

    ¡®On route via the flyers as we speak Commander. They should be able to track the source of the music.¡¯

    Music? Miz-Mag frowned. Why would there be music coming from some old ruins out in the desert?

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡®Very well. With Belphegor present on the sands, we will have to limit our research into the disturbance, but continue with the installation. What¡¯s next?¡¯

    A squeaky little demon that was an odd mixture of mouse, bat and bird spoke up.

    ¡®Progress on the tunnels Commander.¡¯

    ¡®Ah yes, how goes our little excavation effort? I¡¯m certain Lord Asmodeus would be eager to hear of progress.¡¯

    Attention turned to a quivering mixture between mole and centipede. A blind head with twitching snout topped and elongated furry body lined with clawed appendages.

    ¡®Y-yes commander, progress. Well, as you are aware the tunnels beneath the city are heavily protected. The Transcriptions sealing them are proving difficult to circumvent.¡¯

    ¡®That does not sound like progress.¡¯

    The monkey faced leader cooly replied, prompting an increase in intensity of its subordinates nervous shifting.

    ¡®Well, these are clearly Transcriptions done by the Soul Lord itself. It is no easy feat to get around them.¡¯

    ¡®And yet Belphegor managed!¡¯

    The anger cracked out like a whip, and the mole reacted as if it had been caught by the lash, flinching backwards.

    ¡®Y-yes or so we have been told. B-but my team have noted no trace¡­¡¯

    ¡®No trace? You are not looking for traces of Belphegor, you are looking for access. There is clearly something down there that Belphegor has been using, and the Sovereign has ordered us to find out what!¡¯

    ¡®But the evidence¡­¡¯

    ¡®Evidence!¡¯

    The new voice buzzed through the meeting room like a locust swarm, uncontrolled and angry. Miz-Mag was startled to hear the insectile demon speaking up It felt uncomfortable standing nearby as all they eyes in the room turned towards the Hive¡¯s remaining survivor.

    ¡®You dare question our word! The Hive risked itself to report to you on Belphegor¡¯s movements. Our Queen has fallen to Belphegor in response to unveiling its crimes, and yet you dare question the truth of our word?¡¯

    ¡®Quiet!¡¯

    Snapped the leader, slapping a palm hard on the table hard enough that the stone cracked. Beside Miz-Mag the insect fell silent but for a low droning buzz, fixated upon the nervous mole.

    ¡®I expected better of you.¡¯

    The monkey faced chimera spoke cooly to its quivering subordinate.

    ¡®You know of the Hive¡¯s efforts to get us this information, and still, you try to shift the blame upon them. A house has all but fallen to Belphegor¡¯s hubris, and it is now our responsibility to attain recompense.¡¯

    ¡®B-but Commander¡­¡¯

    ¡®And now, the decrepit lord is making its way onto the sands.¡¯

    The mole¡¯s squeaky attempt at an interruption was quashed.

    ¡®So, tell me, will we need to drag access to the tunnels from Belphegor itself, or will you finally make some progress?¡¯

    Innumerable clawed hands quivered as the fiend nodded, curling in on itself like a wounded animal.

    ¡®Good. If you fail to provide anything of value, it might be time to put someone in charge that can.¡¯

    It was subtle, but the monkey shifted a glance towards where the goat-headed serpent lay coiled and attentive. Noticing that the whole room had caught the gesture, Miz-Mag thought it might have been intentional. Showing favour or something like that. The little fiend did not give the political play too much thought, fixated instead upon the topic of the leader¡¯s wrath.

    Tunnels beneath the city, created by the Soul Lord. Miz-Mag was usually the one to stay on task while Mickie stuck his nose into every diversion. But information on the mysterious originator of its brand was a weak spot for the tiny fiend. For a time, it had Sestus to provide a window into the past. But that strange old demon was gone, leaving only an unfamiliar feeling in Miz-Mag¡¯s chest. The little fiend shook itself, pushing away thoughts of its dead friend. There was work to be done.

    The conversation at the table shifted to matters that it did not care much about. That was fine, Miz-Mag had done its job and gotten information on the situation in the city. Easy done. Now it just needed to find a path to the exit and get Mickie and that Gorgon¡¯s lazy bones to it. Hesitation crept over the little fiend as it made to move. Perhaps there was a third task, a quick peak at these tunnels that the demons had been discussing. It would not affect the timetable all that much. Besides, Mickie would probably want to know about some random tunnels if they were related to the Soul Lord. Conversation in the room and Miz-Mag internal musings were abruptly cut short as something hammered hard against the doors to the meeting hall.

    ¡®Enter.¡¯

    The monkey headed leader called out after a lengthy silence, brows furrowed. With a crash the doors burst open, and a haggard looking demon entered. It was not a chimera, but a tall and lean horned creature.

    ¡®C-commander. I have an urgent report from the wall patrols.¡¯

    It panted and waited for a nod from the leader before continuing.

    ¡®Belphegor¡¯s forces have been spotted approaching the city.¡¯

    Noise erupted in the room, demons chattering over one another in a sudden rush. The leader held its hand up for quiet and when that did not work, slammed it upon the table once again. This time a chunk of carved stone broke free and crashed to the ground.

    ¡®Silence!¡¯

    It glared about until the occupants of the space quieted.

    ¡®From which road is Belphegor reported to be coming?¡¯

    The lanky demon hesitated momentarily, clearly not eager to deliver the next bit of news.

    ¡®All of them.¡¯

    <hr>

    It took a considerable amount of shouting and cajoling for the chimeric leader to drag its underlings into a semblance of order. The leader made plans at high speed, noting the size of Belphegor¡¯s forces and decided to consolidate in the pillar if they pushed. Commanding the near hysterical mole demon to break into the tunnels immediately. Ordering the serpentine goat to gather a patrol and ensure the exit highway was secure.

    Miz-Mag stopped bothering to listen after that part. The little fiend bolted to the oversized snake and clambered onto its horned head. If they were going to offer a free tour of the place, then who was it to complain. Plus, it seemed like things were going to start getting real chaotic around here. Better to get moving before it became too difficult.

    The goat-serpents horned head provided a great vantage point from which it could watch the pandemonium unfold throughout the pillar. Demons in blue and white rushed about like supercharged ants, having orders screamed at them and screaming orders in turn. The oversized snake carved its way through the mess like a hound that had a scent, the team it had picked up trailing in its wake.

    They descended the stairs back to the wider hall Miz-Mag recalled from their arrival. Demons were flocking into the tower from the open doors, and the chimera began to bowl them over in its rush. As the amused little demon had predicted, the exit was indeed down the wider hall, towards the centre of the pillar.

    With surprising speed they reached their destination, leaving not an inconsiderable number of injured demons in their wake. The fiend made sure it remembered the path they took to get here, not that it was overly difficult, just straight down the wide passage. The exit chamber was a massive carved cylinder of stone, lined with a broad set of stairs that stretch far out of sight above. Miz-Mag laughed in glee at the sight of it.

    ¡®By the blood, this will serve nicely.¡¯

    The thought of Mickie clambering up those stairs was like waving water before a parched mortal. Miz-Mag shuddered at the thought of such progress. Ascension straight to the fourth circle. Not much further until it could be complete.

    ¡®Station yourselves by the doors. Not a fiend comes or goes from this chamber without orders from the Commander itself.¡¯

    While Miz-Mag was riding the high of its impending escape, the goat-serpent was brimming with its recently attained approval and authority. The demon imitated the cool tone of its leader, barking out orders and shoving its underlings into position. Miz-Mag ignored the jumped-up chimera¡¯s antics, leaping from its head to examine the staircase.

    For all that the gorgon had been a nuisance and a liability, the tiny fiend had to admit her intelligence of this particular exit had been a win. It meandered to the cylinders hollow centre, staring upwards to the point where the spiral of stairs pinched into a single distant point. It was so far that Miz-Mag had no chance of spotting its terminus. The fiend laughed again in glee and turned to its makeshift companion.

    ¡®Thanks for that, you ugly little bleater.¡¯

    The chimera was now demanding reports from its subordinates, commanding some of them out to report on the status of Belphegor¡¯s forces. Miz-Mag listened with half an ear, thinking about its next move. With the exit found, that was it, job done. The fiend could return to Mickie and get its angry little partner through to the stair, and from there up and out of Hell. The little fiend hesitated to pull the pin on its return. If it came back with Mickie, they would likely not get a chance to investigate the hidden tunnels. It had earned the chance for at least a small search.

    Miz-Mag meandered over to the chambers closed door and peeked through the small gap beneath them. Chaos still reigned beyond. Plenty of feet willing to trample it and not even have the decency of noticing. Oh well, time was of the essence. The little fiend could always stick to the walls or jump from shoulder to shoulder. How hard could it be to find the tunnels that the Sovereign¡¯s lot had mentioned? Miz-Mag lay down flat and squeezed its way under the door.

    <hr>

    The hidden tunnels were, in actuality, quite well hidden. In retrospect, the fact that these tunnels had gone undiscovered for so long should have clued Miz-Mag in that they might be difficult to find. The tiny fiend spent a frustrating amount of time roaming passages packed to the gills with harried demons. Eventually it took enough turns to break away from the masses crowding near the entrance and could speed up its search.

    It was deep in the pillar, in an area occupied only by the occasional patrol, that Miz-Mag finally gave up the goose. The little red fiend gave the passage wall a frustrated kick, then cursed at the sudden pain shooting through its foot.

    ¡®Seven devils, maybe the kid was onto something with that shoe fixation of his.¡¯

    This particular passage of carved stone was no different from any of the others which it had passed through. Miz-Mag had not only failed to find the hidden tunnels, it had also gotten lost in the process. The fiend sighed as the pain in its foot faded. It was time to disappear. Hopefully the wait would be long, it would be good if they could capitalise on the chaos caused by Belphegor¡¯s invasion.

    However, just as it drew upon the link to Mickie, something tickled Miz-Mag¡¯s ears. It was a distant sound, echoing through the deep tunnels. Cracking, shouting, and screaming. The red demon glanced up with peaked curiosity, had the fighting started outside the pillar? It must have been severe for the sounds to reach Miz-Mag so far inside.

    With nothing else to do but give up the fiend started towards the noise, making a couple of turns before the sounds tapered off. Miz-Mag had a heading though, and it was not long before more noise reached it, shouts and upraised voices that provided further guidance. The fiend found and passed a dead patrol when finally, the hum of normal conversation reached its ears.

    ¡®¡­telling you, they¡¯re on a timer. We ain¡¯t got long to finish up before the whole place starts comin¡¯ down.¡¯

    ¡®The Lord wouldn¡¯t do that. Not with us inside.¡¯

    A bark of laughter echoed down the passage as Miz-Mag approached.

    ¡®The Lord will do whatever it wants to do. I don¡¯t even think that big guy would be safe if it decided the time was right.¡¯

    The second voice tried to protest but was shouted down.

    ¡®Oh, give the loyal dog spiel a rest. Aren¡¯t you a self-respecting demon? You¡¯re embarrassing yourself.¡¯

    There came a shout and a grunt as Miz-Mag rounded a corner to a short corridor. A door was ajar to a side room, and it was from there that the ongoing grunts and curse were emanating. The little fiend trotted over and found a small room, potentially a storage or service cupboard. Two imps were grappling one another on the floor, the hoods of cloaks shoved back to reveal angry faces.

    ¡®Self-respecting demons indeed.¡¯

    Miz-Mag chuckled as it meandered through the door.

    ¡®Now, what are the two of you doing here?¡¯

    It was clear from what it had overheard that these two were not with the Sovereign. Probably Belphegor¡¯s, though the fiend felt it was unlikely that these two had killed the guard patrol. They could barely keep one another pinned to the floor. Miz-Mag stepped passed the angry duo and examined the room for anything that looked out of place. Mostly it was just dusty shelves filled with dusty machinery, everything was untouched excepting a panel set into the far stone wall. The metal door hung open and drew the tiny fiend¡¯s attention like a moth to a flame.

    Miz-Mag clambered up to observe the small access hatches¡¯ interior, finding a strange metal rod set into the stone. It glowed with the deep red of carved runes, though seemed to not be actively doing anything that Miz-Mag could discern. Back on the floor, the duo of cloaked imps appeared to have finished up their spat and were glaring at one another with a tired kind of contempt.

    ¡®The lord will hear of your disloyalty.¡¯

    One rasp, and the other chuckle and spat in response.

    ¡®Like Belphegor will give a shit. Now, let¡¯s get the last one sorted and get out of here. I hope that the machine they sent along with us has handled the way out.¡¯

    Curious, Miz-Mag caught a ride with the demons to their next destination. The battered duo made their way through a series of halls before entering another room with a panel set into the wall. Miz-Mag watched as they wrenched free the covering to reveal another plain metal rod set into the stone. One of the imps took out a strange tool and did something to it, and the rod began to glow red with runes.

    ¡®Alright, that¡¯s it. Let¡¯s scramble before the whole place comes down on our heads.¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s eyes widened. Whole place coming down? That did not sound good. The two demons fled the room at a substantially faster pace than before. They seemed to know where they were going, and soon rounded a bend to find another group of the Sovereign¡¯s guards. Only this time they were not quite dead.

    Whimpers and groans slithered from a scene of twitching bodies and splattered gore. Bodies in white, blue and blood red were strewn about hap-hazardously, all prostrate before a towering figure at their centre. The thing was huge, tall as the tunnel and half as wide. A body of overlapping plates and sharp edges, with four arms ending in hands with steak knives for fingers. Its back was to Miz-Mag and his unknowing guides, though apparently the monster was not unaware of their presence.

    ¡®Is the task complete?¡¯

    The voice was flat, and it drove into Miz-Mag like a shard of ice.

    ¡®Y-yeah. All the rods are active. I¡¯m guessing you secured the escape route?¡¯

    It appeared the two imps were as wary of the metal monster as Miz-Mag was. The giant listened to the report, then without pausing to think retrieved a device from somewhere. It was a small cylinder of some kind, barely visible within its monstrous palm.

    ¡®Wait a moment, what is that? what are you do¡­¡¯

    Miz-Mag felt something then, a barely perceptible thrum. Goosebumps broke out across the little fiend¡¯s flesh at the sensation.

    ¡®Did it just?¡¯

    ¡®But we¡¯re still in here?¡¯

    The two imps were suddenly frantic, stumbling away from their metal ally like it had taken a swipe at them.

    ¡®The rods are active.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯ll kills us all!¡¯

    One of the imps wailed as the giant tossed the rod aside, turning about to face them. There was probably more vitriol cast forth by the two spluttering demons, but Miz-Mag was suddenly unable to hear them. The machine was facing them now, looking at them with familiar, gemstone eyes. Looking, and seeing Miz-Mag.

    The monster took a heavy step forward and Miz-Mag was back in the tunnels, standing over Sestus¡¯ dead body. It took another and the little fiend was back in the ninth, watching as the Mechanist possessed the broken body of the Palace Lord.

    ¡®What in the nine are you doing? Get back. Keep your distance.¡¯

    Miz-Mag could not move, could not think to pull on its connection to Mickie. At that moment its world had narrowed to the points of two gleaming eyes. Lucky then, that the two imps were not so restricted. For all that the machine was supposedly their ally, it was also a towering promise of death, one that now stomped towards them in unnerving silence. They hesitated, then turned, and ran.

    Corridors stuttered by as Miz-Mag tried to make sense of it. Those had to be Sestus¡¯ eyes, they had to be. There was something familiar about the sensation of their attention, familiar yet perverse as a betrayal. The sound of the machine¡¯s pursuit was steady as it was thunderous. Miz-Mag knew it had to flee, had to return to Mickie, but found itself unable. What had Belphegor done to the body of its friend? The tiny fiend desperately tried to gather its thoughts as the two imps scurried through the halls.

    The demon on which Miz-Mag was riding suddenly tripped, taking its companion down with it and launching the little rider from its perch. Miz-Mag tumbled free and hit the floor, the impact coming upon the little fiend like a splash of cold water. The imps had said the place was going to come down on them. The machine had done something to start the process. It needed to run. Rolling over, further thoughts fled from the unseen demon¡¯s mind like a fart on a windy mountaintop. The monster boiled into the hall like a dark wave, stomping ever forward.

    Desperation gripped the tiny fiend, and it scrambled upright and ran down the hall. Screams shifted to gurgles as the giant stomped over its own sprawled allies. There was something Miz-Mag was supposed to do, something to help it escape those gemstone eyes. It needed to get to Mickie. Needed to disappear. The fiend reached for the bond with its partner, grasped the release, and darted round a corner of the passage. It screamed its fury at the last, before scrambling to a sudden stop. Mickie stood beside the gorgon, giving the little fiend a confused look. Miz-Mag skidded to a halt before its partner, mental grasp slipping from the release of their bond.

    ¡®Mag? What are you doing here?¡¯

    <hr>

    ¡®We sure are in for it this time kid.¡¯

    The pillar quaked around them with the violence of an awakening god. It roared at them, like the stone had come alive and noticed the trespassers burrowed into its flesh. Mickie looked from a haggard Miz-Mag to the metal giant, who even now stomped in their direction.

    ¡®Mickie, look at its eyes.¡¯

    It was Kalistra, her voice coloured by a mixture of shock and disgust. Mickie shifted his focus to the machine¡¯s head and made out two faceted circles of gleaming crystal.

    ¡®Are those from Sestus?¡¯

    ¡®Forget the machine would you, we need to run!¡¯

    Miz-Mag had scrambled up to his shoulder and was frantically shouting into Mickie¡¯s ear.

    ¡®Did you miss the part where I said the whole place is coming down on our heads?¡¯

    As if to back up the little demon¡¯s point, the intensity of the rumbling spiked. Mickie put a hand against the wall to remain steady.

    ¡®Mag is here. It says the place is about to collapse. We need to leave.¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s eyes widened comically.

    ¡®Are you serious?¡¯

    Mickie nodded once and cast a glance back over his shoulder at the approaching giant. Even a machine of its heft could no longer move unimpeded. It clasped the walls to either side of the tunnel with its four metal hands. It was like the Mechanist had crawled out of the grave and pulled on a suit of sharpened steel. Mickie wanted to kill the damn thing, but Miz-Mag was getting downright apoplectic as he delayed their flight.

    ¡®Back the way we came?¡¯

    He asked Kalistra. The Gorgon nodded curtly and set off at something resembling a fast walk. The metal giant gave chase, clawing its way towards them like the whole damn place was not about to come down on their heads. Mickie could feel it, the ground tilting and shifting beneath their feet through all the quaking. Walls were cracking around them, and chunks of stone would occasionally bounce of his head and jacketed shoulders. Still, the machine gave chase, and between occasional glances over his shoulder, Mickie realised it was closing.

    Ahead Kalistra took a corner and stopped short. Mickie nearly stumbled into her back as he scrambled to slow amidst the quaking stone. He did not need to ask what the problem was, it was right there for all to see. The floor of the hallway was simply gone, a gaping hole into darkness having taken its place. It was as if the eighth circle was trying to claw them back, reaching up through the stone to grab them. Behind them the gemstone eyed machine shuffled closer, almost urgent, like it sensed its quarry had been cornered.

    ¡®Jump or fight?¡¯

    He yelled over the roar of cracking stone. Kalistra looked at him, at the closing machine, then towards the hole in the floor. It had to be at least a five-meter gap of inky death. A risky prospect with the world falling apart around them.

    ¡®No time to fight then backtrack.¡¯

    She said, almost too quietly for Mickie to hear. Then, without hesitation, the gorgon took a couple steps back, charged, and jumped the gap. She landed in a heap on the shaking floor, a couple of feet from the edge. Mickie¡¯s gut clenched, then released as he saw she had landed safely. The branded man stepped back for his own run up, glancing behind him to see that the machine was a mere few meters away.

    ¡®Enjoy the dark asshole.¡¯

    He ran and jumped. The ground shook violently just as his foot was leaving it, almost as if it were protesting his escape. Mickie twisted unintentionally in the air, his momentum shifted enough that he failed to clear the gap, his gut slamming into the ragged edge of stone. The wind left him, and Mickie clawed at the floor as he bounced away, sliding towards the abyss. A scaled hand grasped his wrist and pulled him up and over the ledge. Mickie gasped for air as he clambered onto the quaking stone. That had been too close.

    Back across the gap the machine was hunched low and glaring at them with Sestus¡¯ uncanny eyes. The thing reminded Mickie of a cat watching a mouse through a glass screen, fixated with an unerring intensity. It did not matter, the construct was to large, too heavy to cross the gap. They were safe.

    These thoughts were circulating through a victorious Mickie¡¯s mind as he prepared to leave. So, when the machine jumped, he almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. Heavy legs of steel powered it into the air, and the construct bobbed upwards like a thrown bowling ball. It started to drop well short of the safe distance when thick arms powered out towards the walls of the hall. Steel slammed into the cracked remains of carved stone and drove the giant forward, right at them.

    Mickie cursed and began to scramble back as the machine contacted the stone ledge in much the same way he had, partway on with arms scrambling for grip. Even through the shaking of the tower he could feel the blow, a shudder in the structure fiercer than those before. Clawed hands dug into rock, and the machine began to haul itself up and out of the hole.

    ¡®Like hell!¡¯

    A triple barrelled gun formed in his palm and Mickie fired and one of the metal hands. It warped and loosened its grip. He called forth his power and it streamed into the weapon. The barrel rotated nearly instantly. With another shot the warped appendage came free from the giant¡¯s body, and it slid backward. With the limbs remaining to it the machine desperately clawed for the edge, but its momentum was spent. Mickie looked into the gemstone eyes and could have sworn he saw something like fear in them. The machine¡¯s sharpened fingers carved divots into the floor as gravity had its way. With a final, desperate grab, the metal giant came free and was claimed by the dark.

    Mickie sighed and turned to give Kalistra a grin, only to find that the gorgon was not looking in his direction. Her attention was focussed ahead of them, her face a picture of terror. Mickie felt it before he saw it, a gradual shifting of momentum, tilting them back and towards the hole. Cracks ran like the script of an ancient language, crawling along the floor and walls. Even as he noticed them, the lines thickened to reveal insides of stone and shadow. Mickie reach for Kalistra¡¯s arm, trying to pull her forward, but tripping himself as the ground bucked.

    He could see the point where their stone shelf was breaking free from the quaking passage. It was only a couple of meters away. It might as well have been a mile. Mickie tried to rise, but it was too steep to stand. The shaking of the tower and the failed landing of the machine had been too much for the stone shelf. It had given up ground in its fight against gravity, another chunk of hallway coming free.

    Mickie could almost feel the abyss reaching up to grab him, pulling him in like a jealous lover. One moment he was struggling for the broken edge of stone, the next he was tumbling into the black. The trio followed the giant machine into the darkness, with the roar of the pillar sounding like laughter behind them.

 24 â€“ Ziz of the Cycle

    In the dream Mickie was standing over someone. A naked man, weeping and burning. Shackles of glowing gold were affixed to the sinner¡¯s arms, legs and throat. The molten bindings of avarice, tying the mortal eternally to wealth in a place where gold was as common as dirt.

    How long would it be until this one was a husk? The thought came like a stone at a glass mountain. Another chip, another crack. Mickie turned away from his latest administration of justice, wondering if there would ever be a chance for some damned peace and quiet.

    <hr>

    The first thing the branded man felt upon awakening was pain. His whole body burned like his blood had been replaced with acid. Mickie made a noise that started as a groan and swiftly devolved into a cramping cough. Everything was dark. Mickie could not even able to see his own body as he curled in on himself. The rasps he emitted rang through his unseen surrounds, echoing back like the call of a some mocking beast.

    Memory returned in fits and starts as he shuddered. The machine tumbling into the black. The passage falling away and dragging them after it, down into the darkness. Miz-Mag screaming incoherently and vanishing. Kalistra¡¯s clawed hand grasping his arm. Mickie twisting so he would hit the ground first. Then, a feeling. A memory of pressure, like a thousand eyes studying his body and a hundred hands brushing his skin. The branded man shivered and released another wracking cough.

    Once he had recovered enough to move, Mickie fumbled in a pocket of his jacket for the orb lamp. With a palpable sense of relief, the trusty ball illuminated his surrounds. Light spilled into a dusty tunnel, revealing smooth walls that looked carved rather than natural. He got no further than that, spying a figure nearby.

    Kalistra was slumped against one of the walls a little up the sloped passage. Her head was tilted forward, chin to sternum with limp serpents forming a curtain that hid her features. Mickie staggered over, collapsing beside the gorgon and grasping a hand to check for a pulse. A scaled palm slammed hard into his chest and Mickie tumbled down the passage. There was a low hiss that quickly shifted to a cough.

    ¡®Mickie?¡¯

    Kalistra rasped.

    ¡®Oh. I¡¯m sorry I¡­ Where are we?¡¯

    Mickie groaned and rolled onto his back. The lamp had slipped from his hand and darkness returned as it rolled away.

    ¡®Next time I¡¯ll just prod you with a stick.¡¯

    The branded man took a moment to catch his breath before stumbling after the retreating orb. He found it resting against a large rock that must have broken free from the cracked ceiling. Examining the damaged tunnel, Mickie wondered how they had managed to survive the fall. Even if the drop had failed to kill him and Kallistra, they should have been buried under a mountain of stone. Instead, they had awoken in a relatively undamaged tunnel.

    Mickie scooped up the lamp and tromped his way back to where Kalistra lay. The gorgon was back on her feet when he returned, wincing as she tested her right leg. The serpents on her head seemed as groggy as Mickie felt, blearily peering at their stony surrounds.

    ¡®Sorry about that. That fall put me on edge.¡¯

    Kalistra rubbed her eyes, and Mickie noted her aviators were missing. He carefully shifted his attention away from her face.

    ¡®Yeah well, you did far worse back in the arena. I¡¯ll live.¡¯

    Now they were both alive and well, Mickie took the opportunity to properly examine the tunnel. Looking closely, there were cracks spiderwebbing dangerously up the curved wall, though the passage itself did not seem at risk of collapse. The mortal trekked up the tunnel, intending to see the hole down which they feel. He hardly made it more than twenty paces however when lamplight fell across a wall of shattered stone. Debris was strewn before the collapsed passage, smaller chunks that had broken off or slipped through when the whole thing came down.

    ¡®By the Blood.¡¯

    Kalistra murmured as she came up alongside him, the curse sounding strange coming from her and not Miz-Mag.

    ¡®I¡¯ll say. Did you drag us into the tunnel?¡¯

    She gave him a look that might have been quizzical, it was hard to tell when Mickie could not see his ally¡¯s face.

    ¡®No, I thought you must have.¡¯

    ¡®I did not.¡¯

    Mickie spoke each word with emphasis, glaring at the collapsed tunnel like it was hiding something from him.

    ¡®And I doubt we just happened to roll down this passage.¡¯

    ¡®You think something dragged us?¡¯

    He nodded slowly, and pointed to a streak of darkness beneath some of the strewn rubble. Kalistra bent over and examined it.

    ¡®Blood.¡¯

    ¡®Yup, probably mine. Who knows how bad I was after that fall, but I don¡¯t remember much of anything.¡¯

    Kalistra straightened to stare at the rubble.

    ¡®About that. I remember you grabbed me, cushioned my fall. You did not need to do that.¡¯

    Mickie shrugged.

    ¡®Sure. But out of the two of us, I¡¯m the one who heals the fastest. Made sense in the moment.¡¯

    Silence dragged. The gorgon seemed on the verge of saying something but kept stopping short. Eventually she released a sigh and turned on her heel.

    ¡®We will not be leaving this way.¡¯

    Mickie nodded and followed Kalistra as she headed back down the tunnel. They moved past the point where Mickie had retrieved the lamp when Kalistra stopped abruptly. She tilted her head to the side and started examining the cracked walls.

    ¡®You all good?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, it¡¯s just¡­¡¯

    She trailed off momentarily, staring at the stone.

    ¡®¡­there are traces of transcriptions within this wall.¡¯

    ¡®Runes huh.¡¯

    Mickie mused.

    ¡®I guess it isn¡¯t that unexpected. We might be beneath the pillar, but it¡¯s still a major part of the seventh circle. There¡¯s destined to be a few runes around. Any idea what these ones are for?¡¯

    ¡®Nothing definite.¡¯

    Kalistra relied softly.

    ¡®The Transcriptions are embedded within the stone itself, like those on the city wall. It means I cannot examine them, though they feel¡­¡¯

    She searched for the right word.

    ¡®Protective? Yet somehow simultaneously open?¡¯

    ¡®Ah, yes, that makes sense.¡¯

    Mickie said dryly, and had to dodge the glare the gorgon cast his way.

    ¡®Apologies.¡¯

    She muttered, catching his reaction.

    ¡®Strange how quickly I grew accustomed to looking things in the eye. It is a shame we could not find the glasses.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, probably buried under the rubble now. It¡¯s too bad whatever dragged us out did not stop to pick them up.¡¯

    ¡®You really think something pulled us into the tunnel?¡¯

    ¡®Well, neither of us did it, and I doubt we happened to roll down here on our own.¡¯

    Kalistra hummed thoughtfully.

    ¡®If that¡¯s the case, it would be nice to know who we should thank.¡¯

    The pair started down the passage, following the slope into darkness.

    ¡®That it would. Who knows, could have even been the machine.¡¯

    Mickie said, flicking the glowing orb into the air. Beside him the gorgon chuckled, watching the shadows dance as the light bobbed.

    ¡®Yes, from what I saw it seemed highly inclined to assist us.¡¯

    ¡®Well, there¡¯s only one way out of the tunnel, maybe we¡¯ll meet whoever it is.¡¯

    They continued downwards for a time, the cracked walls giving way to clean stone. Wherever they were, it now deep enough to have avoided the impact of the collapsing pillar.

    ¡®It is curious.¡¯

    Kalistra said, breaking what had been a long stretch of silence.

    ¡®It was not just the previous tunnel that was Transcribed. We¡¯ve been passing embedded runes regularly for some time.¡¯

    ¡®Is that a problem?¡¯

    Mickie asked, rolling the fall¡¯s remnant stiffness from his shoulders.

    ¡®Not really. It is a shame I cannot get a good look at the markings though, it would be nice to get an understanding of their function.¡¯

    ¡®I thought you could feel something from them?¡¯

    The gorgon shrugged.

    ¡®Sure, but that is a vague sense of intent. It does little to inform of the transcription¡¯s purpose.¡¯

    They rounded a bend in the tunnel and stopped short. Ahead the passage split, two separate paths continuing downwards, though one was steeper than the other.

    ¡®It would be nice if one of them went towards the surface.¡¯

    Mickie muttered, but Kalistra did not respond. The gorgon strode towards the steeper passage and examined its walls.

    ¡®There¡¯s something different about this path.¡¯

    She said, running a claw along the stone.

    ¡®Both have embedded transcription, but this one is¡­ heavier.¡¯

    ¡®How delightfully vague.¡¯

    The branded man responded dryly. Kalistra restrained herself from throwing a glare his way.

    ¡®You should know that the ability to feel unseen runes is exceedingly difficult. I was considered something of an authority among my tribe for the talent.¡¯

    ¡®Right. My bad. But can you elaborate on it more than saying it¡¯s heavier?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, give me a moment. Like I said, these things can be difficult to quantify.¡¯

    The gorgon¡¯s hair twisted hypnotically as she thought.

    ¡®It is as if the runes embedded in this passage have more to them. Not in quantity, but quality. Like they were formed with far more intent.¡¯

    ¡®And that makes them stronger?¡¯

    She sighed.

    ¡®I suppose you could summarise it that way.¡¯

    ¡®Why not just start with that then?¡¯

    This time Kalistra could not restrain the angry look she cast in his direction. Mickie was ready for it and was already grinning at the ceiling.

    ¡®I¡¯m just joking, thanks for dumbing it down to the level of an ignorant mortal such as myself. Do you think we should head that way? I mean, we¡¯re in tunnels beneath the tower, there must be a reason they were Transcribed. Could be worth finding out why.¡¯

    His serpentine ally¡¯s gaze lingered for a moment longer before she returned it to the passage.

    ¡®It is hard to say. I do not get the feeling of ill intent from the runes, but without knowing their purpose¡­¡¯

    She shrugged.

    ¡®Well, we¡¯ve got to head downwards either way, so why not head in a more interesting direction?¡¯

    Mickie suggested. Kalistra agreed and they set off down the steeper of the two paths. What followed was in impressively long trek descent through the rock. They came across a second intersection, and relied on the gorgon¡¯s expertise to guide them further on their way. Mickie was wondering if they were going to hit the eighth circle when a squeak cut through rhythmic sound of their footsteps.

    ¡®By the blood, kid, we¡¯re alive!¡¯

    Miz-Mag had reappeared and was gazing wide eyed at their new surroundings.

    ¡®And it¡¯s dark. Are we in the tunnels?¡¯

    Mickie threw his companion a glance and got an eyeful of the fiends grinning face as it leant in close.

    ¡®Tunnels? You know where we are?¡¯

    Kalistra seemed to have gathered what was happening and waited patiently as the branded man conversed with the unseen demon.

    ¡®That I do, dear boy. I heard some of the Sovereign¡¯s lot flapping gums earlier.¡¯

    The three of them related their stories to one another as they continued down the tunnel. Mickie passed on everything Miz-Mag said to Kalistra. The taller pair were growing increasingly surprised at the revelations the little fiend provided.

    ¡®So, both Belphegor and the Sovereign knew about these tunnels, and were willing to fight over them?¡¯

    Miz-Mag kicked the side of his shoulder rhythmically.

    ¡®That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying kid. From what I saw it looks like the Sovereign¡¯s been hunting for an excuse to put old Bel in the ground.¡¯

    ¡®Right, so they must have been using the Hive to spy or something, which is why the insect knew the army was in the city while Belphegor did not.¡¯

    Kalistra hummed thoughtfully as she traced a claw along the wall.

    ¡®To destroy the entire pillar though, that hardly feels like a proportionate response.¡¯

    ¡®Well, that depends on what¡¯s in the tunnels. The way Mag described those imps, it was like they were triggering something already within the tower. Some kind of pre-planned countermeasure.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, I¡¯ve been thinking about that ever since we awoke. The forces involved in bring down this much stone, it seems almost impossible to do while remaining undetected. They must have installed the countermeasure well in advance.¡¯

    That gave Mickie pause. He rubbed his chin as a new theory formed.

    ¡®Countermeasures huh. These tunnels were apparently made by the Soul Lord, and from what I heard it loved a good contingency.¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s hair flutter with the realisation.

    ¡®Of course. It would fit with what I know about the Soul Lord. Belphegor must have discovered whatever fail safe was in the tower and used it.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s what I was thinking, though I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter all that much to us. With the pillar gone we¡¯re going to need a new way up.¡¯

    Mickie said, and Miz-Mag released a dramatic sigh from his shoulder.

    ¡®Indeed. Such a glorious path of ascension it was too.¡¯

    ¡®The flyers.¡¯

    Kalistra spoke over his little companion and received a dirty look.

    ¡®Even if the staircase¡¯s base is gone it should still be accessible higher up. We could get a machine to fly our way up.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, that could work. Though I imagine whatever¡¯s left will be a bit of a hotspot after Belphegor¡¯s little stunt. Hopefully Miz-Mag remembers how to drive if it comes to that.¡¯

    Something pinched his ear.

    ¡®Watch it kid.¡¯

    The trio came to another intersection and Kalistra took a moment to gauge their heading.

    ¡®It¡¯s getting strong now. I think we¡¯re closing in on whatever¡¯s down here.¡¯

    ¡®About time, we must be about to hit the accursed eighth circle again.¡¯

    Miz-Mag complained, before starting.

    ¡®You know, I just remembered something. The chimera was saying they couldn¡¯t get into the tunnels. That they were blocked by the Soul Lord or something.¡¯

    ¡®But we¡¯re in the tunnels, and wasn¡¯t Belphegor also getting in? How can they have access when the Sovereign doesn¡¯t?¡¯

    ¡®How should I know? Hardly got the chance to enquire further, did I?¡¯

    Kalistra had been listening to half the conversation, her attention on the path ahead. She suddenly stopped to glare down the passage.

    ¡®There¡¯s something down there, where the tunnel levels off.¡¯

    The squabbling mortal and tiny demon both went quiet and stared into the dark.

    ¡®Yeah, the serpent¡¯s right. There is something different down there.¡¯

    Without the powerful eyes of his companions, Mickie could see nothing but shadow up ahead. He cautiously took a few steps forward, holding the orb lamp aloft. The tunnel¡¯s slope did indeed taper off, opening into a larger looking space as it levelled out. Amongst the shadows at the lamp¡¯s furthest reach was an odd stretch of uncanny darkness. Unlike the contained black of the tunnel, their little lamp seemed unable to penetrate this space. Distinct in its depth.

    Cautiously, the group moved through the last stretch of tunnel, eyeing the dark patch as they approached. The passage widened into what had to be a cavern, and a large one at that. Enough light finally fell upon the odd darkness for Mickie to realise what it was.

    ¡®Careful.¡¯

    He warned as Kalistra took another step forwards.

    ¡®I think that¡¯s a hole in the ground.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, I could tell that much.¡¯

    The gorgon responded, stepping cautiously up to the rough edge.

    ¡®I am curious about what it might contain.¡¯

    Mickie joined her at the edge and held out the lamp to illuminate the hole¡¯s depths. Light reflected of a steep passage of jagged rock, before giving way to absolute darkness. Except absolute was not quite the right word. Leaning in Mickie could make out glimmers in the black, faint stars in the night sky. It reminded him of the abyss beneath the palace, though without the nauseating sense of vertigo.

    ¡®The city.¡¯

    Kalistra whispered in awe. Mickie cast her a confused glance, before his eyes widened in realisation.

    ¡®By the blood kid. We¡¯ve gone the wrong way.¡¯

    Miz-Mag had also caught on and was clutching tight as a spider to its perch. The mortal man stared down the rough shaft, and into the darkness of the eighth circle. Those faint light were coming from the city which he had escaped not so long ago.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡®We have gone the wrong way.¡¯

    He agreed, stepping back from the edge.

    ¡®Well, if there¡¯s something in the tunnels, it¡¯s got to be here. We can¡¯t exactly go further down.¡¯

    Mickie attempted to gauge how large the cavern was, but their small lamp was too weak for the task. He could make out the shadowed curves of the stone ceiling, but the far reaches of the space were veiled in darkness. There was something in the murk though. A large lump, elongated with an odd, bumpy outline. It might have been a large stone or outcropping, though if that were the case it was unlike any rock Mickie had seen.

    ¡®The purpose for these tunnels must be nearby.¡¯

    Kalistra turned from the hole in the cavern floor to join him in examining the space.

    ¡®Maybe we start with that?¡¯

    The branded man pointed out the large shape.

    ¡®How curious. There is something¡­¡¯

    His ally muttered to herself as she examined the rock.

    ¡®Yes, I think it would be a good place to start.¡¯

    ¡®You noticed something?¡¯

    They started into the cavern.

    ¡®Maybe. It is a feeling, a brush of intent.¡¯

    ¡®Like the embedded runes?¡¯

    ¡®Somewhat. Though the feeling is not quite the same. I need to get close and see.¡¯

    They weaved between darkened holes in the ground, all holding the expanse of darkness and twinkle of city lights. Mickie found his initial estimates on the shape¡¯s size were significantly underbaked. As they came closer the lumpen form grew larger and larger, towering above them before they could even see what it was. He was so fixated upon it, that Mickie failed to see the steel peg protruding from the stone floor until he was tripping over it. The branded man tumbled dangerously close to a hole in the floor and scrambled backwards to safety. Kalistra reached out a clawed hand and pulled him upright.

    ¡®Damn it kid. You trying to take the easy way out or something?¡¯

    Miz-Mag was not at all pleased, having bounced free from its perch and nearly tumbled into the dark. The little fiend grumbled to itself, stomping over to the object that had tripped its partner.

    ¡®And who in the nine circles put something like this in a dark cavern. Hardly up to code. I should file a complaint.¡¯

    The fiend slapped a hand against the metal then paused, leaning in close to examine it.

    ¡®By the blood. Come take a look at this.¡¯

    Mickie obliged, approaching the steel peg with their light source. Even before he reached it the mortal could tell there was something strange about the object. It almost seemed to radiate a faint light of its own. A deep, crimson emission. He discovered that the steel peg was attached to a chain, one that ran off into the darkness towards the mountainous shape and contained the same glow. The links of metal were large, almost coming up to his knee.

    ¡®You see it? Look closer.¡¯

    Mickie leant in and his breath caught. The metal was carved with runes, the source of the faint light he had detected. It had been difficult to notice because the script was tiny, forming densely packed lines and curves of alien scrawl. From where he stood it was as if the runes had been carved in such a way to form further meaning from the strange geometry of their carving. The effect was equal parts beautiful and unnerving.

    ¡®In all the nine¡­ I, I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡¯

    Kalistra had stepped up beside him and was breathlessly examining the carvings. The Transcriber rand her hands upon the curved shapes and squinted at the tiny text.

    ¡®This detail, the control required to manage these forms.¡¯

    She followed the red glow from the metal peg to the chain it held taut. Mickie trailed behind with the light as Kalistra worked her way forward.

    ¡®The intent, it is deep, complex. Meaning folded in upon itself.¡¯

    The branded man knew better than to try for a more coherent explanation. Kalistra was bad enough with the embedded runes. These carvings might be visible, but there were an uncountable number of them.

    ¡®Constraint. Control. Encirclement? No that¡¯s not right.¡¯

    ¡®I think the snake¡¯s lost it kid.¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered to Mickie. Almost as if she had heard the little fiend, Kalistra straightened. Her hair was a ceaseless flickering of scale in the torchlight, and her eyes never left the runes.

    ¡®Sorry, I know I should not be distracted. It¡¯s just, these carvings, they are beyond the work of a normal Transcriber.¡¯

    That tickled something at the back of Mickie¡¯s mind. A half-remembered dream swam past the waking veil of fog and he saw a face, golden with gemstone eyes.

    ¡®The creature is contained above, I completed the rune carving personally.¡¯

    ¡®Who do you think did this?¡¯

    He asked, trying his best to keep the sudden unease from his voice. Kalistra spent a moment in silent contemplation before answering.

    ¡®Well, we know these tunnels were made by the Soul Lord, so that would be the safe assumption. I have heard it was an extraordinarily proficient Transcriber.¡¯

    ¡®Could it have been someone else? Like a student or something?¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps¡­¡¯

    The gorgon clearly sounded interested.

    ¡®What makes you think it would be someone other than the Soul Lord?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah kid, you know something?¡¯

    He had pushed a little too hard. Mickie might trust his companions to an extent, but he was not willing to inform them of the strange dreams he had been having.

    ¡®Just a thought. Trying to rule out options.¡¯

    Kalistra hummed in thought and Miz-Mag gave him a suspicious look. Neither of them pushed him on the point though. Mickie decided a change in topic was in order and turned towards the lumpen shadow.

    ¡®If it was the Soul Lord, I¡¯d say we¡¯ve managed to find whatever it hid down here. Shall we go find what these chains are for?¡¯

    Kalistra was eager to get back to the runes and agreed without hesitation. The group followed the carved chain towards the lumpy shadow at steady pace, giving the gorgon time to examine the runes. Closer to their destination they stumbled across a second chain, running an intersecting course to their own. Kalistra shifted her attention when she noticed it, examining the runes on its surface briefly.

    ¡®I don¡¯t get it.¡¯

    She sighed.

    ¡®Everything about these carvings leans towards containment, yet there is something off about them. It¡¯s like there¡¯s an undercurrent of threat to it. A Sword of Damocles above our heads.¡¯

    ¡®A what?¡¯

    Miz-Mag squeaked, and Mickie thought for a moment.

    ¡®Sword of Damocles. It¡¯s like someone¡¯s walked into a room with a gun. There¡¯s an implied threat here.¡¯

    He turned to Kalistra.

    ¡®Do you know what the danger is?¡¯

    ¡®No, I could probably get it with enough time, but there is too much to decipher here. We should be careful moving forward.¡¯

    They got close to the shape in the centre but were forced to stop a little short of it. In front of them the rocky floor abruptly ended, leaving a gaping hole into the eighth circle. Numerous Transcribed chains ran over the hole¡¯s edge, to where the now massive shape was suspended over the star speckled dark. This close to the thing Mickie could make out some of its features. The odd lumps he had noticed were chains, emerging from every direction and wrapping about it in countless circles. Beneath the metal was something distinctly organic. A material that might have been feathers or fur.

    In Mickie¡¯s dream they mentioned containing a creature, but this was no simple lion or tiger. Whatever awaited beneath the chains, it was massive. A body five or six times taller than Mickie and long enough that their lamp failed to illuminate it completely.

    ¡®Well kid. Don¡¯t know about you mortals, but in demon speak, that is what we¡¯d call a sleepin¡¯ Cerberus. Not the sort of thing you want to poke.¡¯

    The branded man did not bother pointing out that the Cerberus in the prison had been smaller than whatever this thing was.

    ¡®Any ideas what it is?¡¯

    He asked Kalistra. The gorgon had been examining the suspended giant for some time, and started at the sound of his voice.

    ¡®I. Well, I. Maybe?¡¯

    She swallowed, visibly calming herself.

    ¡®It¡¯s just, it cannot be what I think it is.¡¯

    ¡®Why? What do you think it is?¡¯

    His ally shook her head, causing her hair to release a chorus of displeased hissing.

    ¡®Let me check first. I need to get a better look at it.¡¯

    Mickie frowned, examining the chains that ran out over the dark.

    ¡®I hope you aren¡¯t planning on climbing out there.¡¯

    Kalistra chuckled nervously.

    ¡®I am not so eager. Climbing would be a bad idea before deciphering the inscriptions. I meant that we should walk the creature¡¯s length and search for any distinguishing features.¡¯

    ¡®Ah right. Makes sense.¡¯

    They started up the length of the hanging giant, stepping over chains and following the jagged edge of the pit. Mickie made out the occasional patch of what appeared to be rough skin on the prisoner, wedged between the metal and main body. By the third such occurrence he finally caught on to what they might be.

    ¡®Are those legs?¡¯

    He indicated at the most recent impression of darkened, lumpy skin.

    ¡®They kinda look like legs, you know, for a chicken or something.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah kid, now you mention it they kinda do. But we¡¯ve past a fair few of those things already, and I still can¡¯t see the end of this thing. That¡¯s a lotta legs for one beastie.¡¯

    Mickie considered the chimera he had seen within the pillar. Could this be a similar demon to that? Some giant mix of creatures. Kalistra waited nearby, having not responded to his question and looking uncharacteristically nervous. The gorgon had been growing ever more tense as they walked the length of the chained creature, and Mickie supposed he could understand why, the thing was huge. Even so, they had yet to see it move so much as a muscle within its prison, even with their constant talk echoing through the cavern. If the beast knew they were there, it either could do nothing about it or did not care.

    The trio passed by an additional set of taloned feet before the end of the creature was finally in sight. Mickie guessed the thing to be almost as long as a football field, and had lost count of the chains used to encompass its body. All of them were Transcribed in the fine, twisting print that drew Kalistra¡¯s eye when they passed. Mickie wondered, that if it had been Sestus¡¯ work, then how long had the golden fiend spent carving out runes into steel.

    Ahead the pit into the eighth ended in an uncharacteristic straight line. The craggy edge of rock wasn bridged by a steel platform, one that closed the distance to what must be the creature¡¯s head. Light fell upon bulky objects and equipment, strange devices that blocked the sight of their goal.

    ¡®Strange that the Soul Lord put all that work into suspending the thing over a drop, only to build a path right to it.¡¯

    Mickie mused softly as they stepped upon the steel platform.

    ¡®It is curious. The chains were Transcribed to contain, not to provide easy access. Enabling any form of tampering would be foolhardy.¡¯

    Kalistra whispered in reply. The gorgon was examining a tall stack of cylindrical drums, the kind used to store vast quantities of liquid. She shifted her attention to a low set workbench, and picked up a strange looking tool from where it lay idle. It was akin to an oversized pen, with a strange, clawed nib, and a small glass container attached to the back.

    ¡®A Transcription Stylus.¡¯

    The gorgon told him in a breathless rush, cradling the device like it were made of glass. For the first time in a while something other than trepidation had entered her voice.

    ¡®And that is?¡¯

    ¡®A tool used for carving runes. I have not seen one in some time.¡¯

    So, that was how the runes were made. Mickie thought the device looked rather crude, like an oversized pen crossed with a torture instrument.

    ¡®You can scratch out runes with just that thing?¡¯

    ¡®There is substantially more to it than just scratching out, but technically, yes, I can.¡¯

    Kalistra smiled at the tool like it was an old friend, then frowned. She glanced from the device to the nearest set of chains.

    ¡®Though I could not carve runes like those we have seen so far, their size and precision are beyond this tool.¡¯

    Mickie was frowning now too.

    ¡®What was used to carve them.¡¯

    ¡®I do not know. Transcription is an ancient art, and more technique has been lost over the ages than we will ever know. I think a better question is; why is this Stylus here while the true carving implement is nowhere to be seen?¡¯

    Mickie considered the stacks of equipment and supplies atop the platform, a blockade obscuring the imprisoned beast.

    ¡®Perhaps we can find some answers in there.¡¯

    The steel supports groaned as they moved along the platform. Every time he heard the noise, Mickie was reminded that they were suspended impossibly high up. If the construction was to give out, they would be like bugs on a windshield for some building in the dark city. Beside him Kalistra was not nearly so concerned. The gorgon alternated between examining the wand and examining her surrounds, drawn more by the curiosity about the equipment than any sense of purpose.

    It was hardly more than a few meters before the pair shuffled between some crates and came face to face with the giant. The first thing Mickie noticed was the yellow protrusion emerging from the front of its face. A curved beak, hooked like that of an eagle, though utterly monstrous in size. Mickie estimated its interior would make for a cramped but liveable room. Beyond the beak was the slender, streamlined face of a predatorial bird. Grey feathers framed a closed eye as large as he was tall, before disappearing under a chain encircling its throat.

    Stranger than the appearance of the bird itself, was the numerous steel rods driven into the space below its jaw. They glowed with the deep crimson light of runes, and even from this far Mickie could see the script carved into them. It was not the artistic scrawl of the chains, but the more common workings he had seen elsewhere in Hell. Attached to the Transcribed rods was some form of piping, which snaked along the metal floor of the platform and into a series of bulky machines.

    ¡®I was right.¡¯

    Kalistra sounded somewhere between exhilaration and panic, fixated upon the giant bird like it had woken up and started singing.

    ¡®Right?¡¯

    Mickie asked, distracted by the Transcribed rods.

    ¡®Yes, about the identity of this creature.¡¯

    She took a steady breath, letting the moment drag.

    ¡®Well come on, don¡¯t keep us waiting.¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s irritated cry went ignored, and the gorgon finished centring herself before continuing.

    ¡®I do not know how or why it is here, but this creature is called Ziz, one of the three primordial beasts.¡¯

    Ziz. The name did not ring a bell, though Mickie thought it was a bit plain for something so massive. Apparently Kalistra was dissatisfied with his lack of reaction, because she sighed in exasperation.

    ¡®Surely mortals have stories of the three. Leviathan of the Unseen, Behemoth of the Mantle, and¡­¡¯

    She gestured towards the imprisoned titan.

    ¡®Ziz of the Cycle.¡¯

    Mickie frowned in thought.

    ¡®I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve heard of Ziz before, but the other two, Leviathan and Behemoth. I¡¯ve heard of them.¡¯

    He tried to dredge what he could from his memories of the world above.

    ¡®Leviathan is a big fish, and Behemoth is a big boar, right? I haven¡¯t heard those other parts of their name before though.¡¯

    ¡®A big fish and boar¡­¡¯

    Kalistra sounded mildly exasperated.

    ¡®It would be more correct to say those animals resemble the primordials. The three are the origin of the wild earth, sea and sky.¡¯

    ¡®Well kid, seems like this fellow is a bit of a big deal.¡¯

    Mickie turned a disgusted eye on Miz-Mag. The little fiend at least had the good sense to appear moderately ashamed of itself.

    ¡®So, this Ziz, it¡¯s powerful then?¡¯

    He asked.

    ¡®Strong enough to rival the Sovereign itself.¡¯

    ¡®Then how did it wind up here?¡¯

    Kalistra grew pensive, seeming to finally take notice of the metal rods driven into the giant¡¯s throat.

    ¡®By all appearances, the answer to that would be the Soul Lord. The complexity of the Transcriptions binding it, and Miz-Mag¡¯s story indicate as much. I could not begin to guess on the why of it though.¡¯

    ¡®I got some thoughts on that.¡¯

    Oddly enough, it was Miz-Mag that spoke up. Mickie turned his partner a surprised look and received a scowl in exchange.

    ¡®Oh, don¡¯t give me that, I¡¯ve been round for far longer than you, there¡¯s plenty of wisdom locked up in this little skull of mine.¡¯

    ¡®Uh huh¡­¡¯

    Something pinched his ear.

    ¡®Anyway, as I was saying, I reckon I know why the beastie is here. You remember what the Conductor said right? About the Soul Lord¡¯s plans?¡¯

    ¡®Contingencies¡­¡¯

    Mickie murmured to himself and looked over the suspended bird-serpent. The intricate chains that bound it, the pit dangling above the city. The scale of it was astounding. It was why Mickie had failed to see it personally, he struggled to shift his brain into thinking of this as anything more than a prison.

    ¡®You¡¯re right Mag.¡¯

    ¡®When am I wrong, dear boy?¡¯

    He turned to Kalistra.

    ¡®Remember that thing you said about the Sword of Damocles?¡¯

    ¡®Of course, it was with regards to the threat implied in the Transcriptions.¡¯

    ¡®Right, well, you weren¡¯t wrong. It¡¯s just, the sword is not hanging over our head, it¡¯s hanging over the eighth circle¡¯s.¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s surprise was only shown through a small inhalation of breath.

    ¡®The chains? You think it¡¯s a trap?¡¯

    ¡®Not a trap in the traditional sense. More like a backup plan. Someone once told Mag and I that the Soul Lord loves its contingencies. I think we just stumbled across one.¡¯

    He pointed towards their feet.

    ¡®If things went drastically wrong in the city, the Soul Lord could drop big bird here on the place.¡¯

    ¡®By the nine. Such a working¡­¡¯

    Kalistra was awed at the revelation.

    ¡®But the Soul Lord is dead.¡¯

    She finished, and Mickie could hear the furrow in her brow, even though he could not look her in the eyes to see it.

    ¡®It is, and it either could not, or would not, pull the pin on the big guy.¡¯

    The gorgon hardly seemed to hear him, lost in her own thoughts.

    ¡®There are recent records surrounding the other two. Behemoth is aiding the Sovereign in its invasion, while Leviathan is more elusive. Ziz though, it was rumoured the lord of the skies had given itself to the abyss.¡¯

    ¡®Well, now we know it didn¡¯t.¡¯

    Mickie turned away from the silent giant to examine the nearby machinery.

    ¡®And apparently, so does Belphegor.¡¯

    ¡®Yes. Of course.¡¯

    The realisation in Kalistra¡¯s voice drew Mickie¡¯s attention back to her. The gorgon has circled the giant¡¯s head to get a better look at the rods driven into its flesh.

    ¡®Look at the runes on this rod, this is the sort of work done with a Transcription Stylus.¡¯

    She waved the strange tool towards the crimson symbols.

    ¡®Your theory about the contingency makes sense, but it does not tell us why this platform was constructed. I think we are standing on Belphegor¡¯s contribution to this insane scheme.¡¯

    ¡®Your theory? Damned snake.¡¯

    Miz-Mag complained from atop the machine Mickie had been examining. The gorgon shifted her focus from the steel rods to the piping, following it to Mickie¡¯s side.

    ¡®Tampering with a rune structure such as that on the chains is dangerous. What would drive Belphegor to risk triggering the trap and dropping Ziz on its city?¡¯

    ¡®The promise of power.¡¯

    Every hair on Mickie¡¯s body stood on end as an unknown voice echoed through the prison. A weight fell upon his shoulders, and the branded man felt seen in a manner that was distinctly invasive. He was the rabbit under the fox¡¯s paw, the mouse in the eagle¡¯s claw. The feeling was far worse than that imposed by the crystalline eyes. It froze him in place just as effectively as Kalistra¡¯s stony gaze.

    ¡®Of course it had to wake up.¡¯

    Miz-Mag managed to squeak out. The tiny fiend was the first to break from the spell cast upon them. It swan dove from atop the large machine to Mickie¡¯s shoulder before scurrying into a jacket pocket.

    ¡®You think to hide from me, spawn of my enemy?¡¯

    With a sense of foreboding the branded man turned towards the imprisoned primordial. The voice had not been coming from that direction, yet he had no doubt as to its true source. Ziz had awoken, and it stared Mickie down with an eye as large as he was. The iris pushed right to the edges of the lid, a massive ring of yellowish bronze that encompassed a pupil, dark and yawning as the abyss.

    ¡®And what manner of cursed abomination are you?¡¯

    ¡®Me?¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s voice sounded tremulous, weak to his own ears. The giant¡¯s response came as a multidirectional rumble through the air, projected in the same way the Conductor¡¯s was.

    ¡®Yes you. I see it on you, the mark of the spawnling, and the perverse symbiosis it describes.¡¯

    The branded man¡¯s trepidation began to shift into irritation.

    ¡®Are you taking about my brand? What do you mean symbiosis?¡¯

    A sigh echoed through the prison cavern, and the massive eye shifted towards Kalistra. A shudder ran through the gorgon as she became the centre of attention. The awakened beast meet her deadly gaze without so much as flinching.

    ¡®One of the cursed serpent-kin, she who was bound to the arena. You would allow yourself to travel with one such as this?¡¯

    ¡®Honoured Ziz.¡¯

    To Mickie¡¯s surprise his ally responded in respectful tone, one he had never heard from her before.

    ¡®I know not of the perversion to which you refer. Mickie has been branded by the deal he made, same as manner others, myself included.¡¯

    The giant shifted then, hardly more than a twitch of the head. Even so, Mickie felt the rolling power behind the movement, like a spring bound at its point of greatest resistance. The pressure of it made him intensely aware of the oversized beak a short distance away. Just how effective were the chains put in place by the Soul Lord?

    ¡®I see. But you are mistaken in thinking you were bound as this one is. The mortal has entered a contract of a different kind.¡¯

    ¡®I do not understand.¡¯

    Ziz¡¯s attention shifted between Mickie and Kalistra, considering them critically.

    ¡®I can explain this to you, but first you will answer me. What events led to the collapse of the pillar on the seventh circle?¡¯

    Surprise must have been evident on Mickie¡¯s face, because the air hummed with amusement.

    ¡®I may be imprisoned, but I still see much.¡¯

    That was an understatement.

    ¡®If you can see what¡¯s happening on the seventh, then why don¡¯t you already know how the tower fell?¡¯

    A growl shook the steel beneath their feet, not emanating from air around them but the elongated body of the beast itself.

    ¡®The bindings suppress me, and I can only resist them for a time.¡¯

    It was kind of like Miz-Mag¡¯s problem, though it sounded like Mickie¡¯s partner got to spend more of its time with the waking world.

    ¡®Now, tell me what I have missed. The last I saw, the both of you were still bound within the arena.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s eyes widened with the implied length of Ziz¡¯s suppression. Kalistra seemed eager to tell their tale, so he stood back and examined the giant beast as she spoke. He noticed that the spikes driven into the flesh below its neck were leaking blood as it shifted. Rivulets of red intermingling with the crimson glow of runes. A sudden, visceral hunger reared its head at the sight, and Mickie had to quash the feeling with a familiar disgust. Something in the branded man¡¯s body ached for that crimson liquid, and it was not the first time he had experienced the sensation.

    Visions of a dark cell came unbidden, Mickie beaten and broken at Belphegor¡¯s feet. Sealed containers of blood-soaked bandages. His breath caught, chest tightening. The dark of the cavern was suddenly oppressive, squeezing upon him like walls of steel. Through it all the hunger sang to him with the promise of unattainable satiation. Something dug hard into his side, and Mickie glanced down to see Miz-Mag¡¯s tiny red features creased in concern. With conscious effort he pushed out the hunger and the panic, leaving his head clear and thoughts untainted.

    Belatedly, he noticed that the background noise of conversation was gone. Mickie glance up to find Ziz¡¯s giant eye focused upon him.

    ¡®You resisted the call. I wondered if you could.¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯

    Mickie rasped and swallowed through his suddenly dry throat.

    ¡®I saw you use my blood within the eighth. Its grip upon you should not be easy to shake.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s fine. Just caught me off guard is all.¡¯

    He turned from the beast to the spikes in its flesh, following the pipes attached to their end to the machine.

    ¡®This, this is all to take your blood?¡¯

    ¡®For one supposedly of sloth, Belphegor is quite proficient with greed.¡¯

    Kalistra was looking his way, but intentionally avoiding his eyes.

    ¡®Mickie, are you alright? What was that?¡¯

    ¡®Nothing, I just¡­¡¯

    How could he explain that overwhelming hunger.

    ¡®The mortal is cursed, in a manner not unlike yourself, serpent child.¡¯

    ¡®Cursed?¡¯

    Surely Mickie would know about something like that.

    ¡®You truly do not know the manner of your own creation. Very well, I shall explain it to the both of you, it will serve my intentions, and time is running short.¡¯

    Miz-Mag poked its head out of his jacket pocket, curious at what the imprisoned primordial had to say.

    ¡®You have been operating under the assumption that your deal was akin to the usual binding made in Hell. It is not. What you have agreed to is something else, older than the pact, and far more¡­  permanent in its effect.¡¯

    Unconsciously, Mickie¡¯s hand drifted to the lumpen scar etching the now familiar lines of the brand into his flesh.

    ¡®Deals were created with the intent to bind a soul to another¡¯s will, as the serpent child has experienced. They are however, as with so many things, built upon the premise of another, older power. As Mizaraphel stood over Lucifer to take Hell¡¯s throne, so too did the modern pacts override Soul Bindings.¡¯

    The way Ziz pronounced that last part made it sound like a title for something.

    ¡®Unlike the contractual nature of pacts, a Soul Binding is deeper. It ties two souls in a bond, with the terms of the binding serving as a catalyst for growth. The intent of the standard pact is for an exchange, the intent of a soul binding is not so limited. To intermingle such a thing as the souls of living creatures is to invite their intent into the binding. The results are often chaotic.¡¯

    ¡®In all the nine.¡¯

    Kalistra muttered glancing from Mickie to the chained giant.

    ¡®I have never heard of such a thing. Is it even possible?¡¯

    Mickie was confused to say the least.

    ¡®I don¡¯t get what the big difference is. If I really have this Soul Binding, it doesn¡¯t change much. I still need to fulfill the terms or face the consequences.¡¯

    ¡®It has to do with the way they both operate.¡¯

    The gorgon explained.

    ¡®In the case of a pact, contracts are used to tie a soul to a purpose, the terms of the deal as it were. These soul bindings, if they truly are possible, can serve a similar function through different means. Rather than bind a soul to a task, they bind it to the other party. The terms of the deal would be enforced by both souls together. It means the consequences of breaking the bargain would be faced by both parties.¡¯

    Kalistra glanced towards the chained giant, and received a slight nod that sent a shudder through the metal platform. Mickie glanced down and met Miz-Mag¡¯s eyes. The small demon¡¯s face was impressively devoid of colour for a creature with red skin. Clearly the little guy did not know about the nature of the deal it had struck. Mickie paused mid thought. Actually, that was not entirely true. He recalled Miz-Mag had known that if he did not climb, then they both would die.

    ¡®So what? Sounds like it might be a fairer deal if both parties are accountable for one another.¡¯

    Mickie said, and the air rumbled with Ziz¡¯s low growl as its voice projected through the cavern.

    ¡®To bind souls together is to tie their fates. It is a large part of why soul bindings were replaced with contracts. Demons do not like to suffer the consequences of their own actions.¡¯

    ¡®Right, so this soul binding is better than a simple contract.¡¯

    ¡®Not better per se, simply different. A binding is a promise of mutual change, and two souls are so much more powerful than one.¡¯

    Kalistra appeared to realise something, a shudder running through her serpentine hair.

    ¡®Mickie, the growth of your powers, this is why it was so strange to me. If the terms of your binding are to climb, then doing so strengthens the connection between yourself and Miz-Mag, granting you more of its power.¡¯

    The branded man did not like the idea of messing with his own soul, but as he had been told, it was either that or die.

    ¡®Then what about the hunger?¡¯

    He asked Ziz.

    ¡®And here we come to the crux of the conversation, the reason you are an abomination. Magareem could never leave a soul unperverted, and yours is no different. I see the traces of the Soul Lord throughout your binding, like discordant threads woven into a tapestry. The stolen essence of my kin and I, entangled with your soul.¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®You feel it do you not, when you look upon my blood?¡¯

    Mickie did feel it. That hunger, old and primal like a ravenous beast.

    ¡®Your powers.¡¯

    It was hardly more than a murmur, but even still he heard the horror and awe in Kalistra¡¯s voice.

    ¡®Mickie your powers.¡¯

    ¡®Indeed. By tying our essence up into your binding, you have taken a shadow of what was ours. The rejuvenation of the cycle, the invisibility of the unseen, and the immutability of the mantle.¡¯

    The words burned through Mickie like a live wire. They sang to some part of him, the paths of power carved within his soul. He healed fast, even for a demon. He was undetectable through digital means. He resisted extremes of temperature, able to walk the ice of the ninth and sands of the seventh.

    ¡®But, Mag has the powers too?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, I can sense my essence within the Soul Lord¡¯s spawnling. I know not how Magareem set up this binding, I only know that it has occurred.¡¯

    ¡®You have said that name before, Magareem. Is that the name of the Soul Lord?¡¯

    Kalistra asked, and Ziz gave another slight nod.

    ¡®Yes. It was Magareem who subdued me and had its underlings bind me within this prison. Soul Lord was the title it earned through constant manipulation and perversion of souls.¡¯

    The air shook as Ziz huffed out a breath.

    ¡®Now, the time for explanations is over. I have told you of soul bindings, of their power. My time awake grows short, and with what remains I would make a request of you serpent child.¡¯

    ¡®Of me, honoured Ziz?¡¯

    ¡®Indeed. I wish to escape this place, but the nature of my bindings makes that difficult. Belphegor has however, by tampering with the prison, unknowingly granted me some leeway with which I may act.¡¯

    The massive eyes settled squarely on the gorgon. Throughout the massive chamber chains clanked and rattled as the giant shifted.

    ¡®The time has come for the cycle of Ziz to begin anew. Kalistra of the Gorgons, I would offer you a deal.¡¯

 25 â€“ Old Burdens, New Paths

    The rattle of chains echoed through the cavernous prison. Ziz had shifted ever so slightly in the silence following its request, and the resulting clamour made conversation all but impossible. Mickie could not risk looking at Kalistra¡¯s unprotected face to gauge her reaction. Even so, he could guess at the shock and outrage boiling within his ally. It showed through her serpentine hair, the snakes hissing and writhing as if they were being electrocuted.

    It had been at most a few days since Kalistra¡¯s contract with Illiath was served, and now here she was again. The arrogance of the giant primordial was so astonishing that Mickie almost laughed. After giving them that huge speech on the impurity of contracts, and calling Mickie an abomination, it was attempting to make a deal. Once the clamour of shifting chains had settled, silence fell over the group in a tense veil. All eyes were upon the gorgon, awaiting her response.

    ¡®In my tribe we honour the three. To us, you were those who came before the disease of the current demons. Where they are ruled by their desires, you were above such things. You simply were. A pure force, one to be admired.¡¯

    Her voice was cold. It contained an anger that Mickie knew all too well, the indignation of belief betrayed.

    ¡®We are such¡­¡¯

    Ziz started but was cut off.

    ¡®When I sacrificed, I thought of you. Of Leviathan and Behemoth. My people held ourselves above base desire, above the rampant ego of the masses. We did so in the image of the three.¡¯

    The gorgon¡¯s chest heaved as if she struggled for air.

    ¡®And now I have the privilege of meeting one of you. Only to find you driven by the desires of the demons that imprisoned you.¡¯

    ¡®I AM NO DEMON.¡¯

    The air boomed with the response, and the roar of chains filled the air as the giant writhed in anger.

    ¡®You would be wise to remember what I am, gorgon.¡¯

    ¡®Or what? You will twist about in your hanging cage? Yell and scream like a fresh spawnling?¡¯

    There was venom in the words, and Kalistra spat them like they could hurt the primordial. Ziz recoiled as if they had, before going limp in its bonds.

    ¡®I know what it is that I ask of you, and I know the price you paid for your people.¡¯

    Kalistra flinched like she had been slapped. Mickie glanced between the gorgon and the giant, certain he was missing something.

    ¡®I see much. I saw you in the arena. I know of your prowess and your worth.¡¯

    The giant spoke softly now, as if to an angry animal.

    ¡®I know that if you wish to succeed at what comes next, you are going to need power.¡¯

    Silence settled over the group, as heavy as the darkness beyond their orb lamp¡¯s little ball of light.

    ¡®You would use them against me? My own people?¡¯

    Kalistra asked the giant, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

    ¡®I have been imprisoned for over a century; a creature of the skies entombed within stone. There is little I would not do to be free.¡¯

    The gorgon hesitated, whatever had happened with her people, it was obviously significant enough to have her reconsider her own freedom. Mickie saw how the oversized eagle was controlling the conversation and decided to through a spanner in the works.

    ¡®Kalistra, we¡¯ve made it this far, all the way to the seventh. I made it through the castle on the ninth with only Mag. Whatever comes next, it can¡¯t be worse than what we¡¯ve already been through.¡¯

    Ziz¡¯s eyes fell upon him like a physical weight.

    ¡®So you say, but the easy paths are gone. If you are to ascend you will have to walk the Labyrinth. There are things old as I am within the sixth circle.¡¯

    The giant shifted its attention back to Kalistra.

    ¡®You seem to be under the impression I wish to chain you with a contract. Let me assure you, I do not. Magareem is not the only one who remembers the ways to bind a soul.¡¯

    Kalistra considered the avian eye for a time before barking out a short laugh.

    ¡®Yes, how free I would be. Do you think I have not seen how Mickie is bound to climb?¡¯

    ¡®Our binding will not be as his is. I wish to leave this place and begin my cycle anew. I would involve you in that process. There was a time that mortals and spawn alike would spill rivers of blood for the honour.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ve never heard anything like that. Why would anyone line up for a binding?¡¯

    Kalistra asked, her puzzlement.

    ¡®Do you not recall our prior discussion on soul bindings? To tie your soul to the cycle of Ziz is to influence the path it would take.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯ve mentioned that a few times now. What do you mean, cycle of Ziz?¡¯

    Mickie cut in to the conversation to enquire. It was Kalistra that answered.

    ¡®It is part of Ziz¡¯s nature. I am unsure of the specifics, but it can reincarnate its soul, escaping any bindings and beginning anew.¡¯

    ¡®Wait, why doesn¡¯t it just do that then? Why does it need you to escape?¡¯

    The great avian released a heavy sigh.

    ¡®The cycle was locked away when I was bound here by Magareem¡¯s thralls. Only after Belphegor meddled with my prison have I gained the leeway to undergo the cycle. However, I can not risk being caught in the early stages, when I am most vulnerable.¡¯

    Ziz¡¯s attention fixed back upon Kalistra.

    ¡®My reincarnation will require protection and guidance; you will need power. We require one another, the binding between us is suitable.¡¯

    It seemed that the gorgon¡¯s resolve was beginning to waver. Ziz fell upon her hesitation like a fox upon an injured rabbit.

    ¡®Power is not all I offer. You have just lost your path of ascent. Bind with me, and I will inform you of another, one of which neither Belphegor or the Sovereign are aware exists.¡¯

    ¡®By the blood you hearing this kid? Hell of a sales pitch.¡¯

    Miz-Mag had poked its head out of his jacket pocket and was eyeing Ziz with a heavy dose of scepticism.

    ¡®You would question the worth of my dealing¡¯s demon? You who has brought such a perversity of a binding before me?¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s partner shrank back from the primordial¡¯s full attention. It was the first time something other than Mickie had seen the little demon without the gemstone eyes. The branded man wondered if this was the very creature that the Soul Lord had based its artificial vision on.

    ¡®Bind with me and shape the cycle, Kalistra of the Gorgons.¡¯

    ¡®I¡­¡¯

    ¡®I will grant you sight to pierce the unseen, rejuvenation beyond any other demon.¡¯

    The branded man wanted to shout down the giant avian, but found the rebuke stuck on his tongue. Who was he to question Kalistra¡¯s choices? To tell her not to take the binding when he himself had done so. Ziz let silence hang for a moment, before delivering its final offering.

    ¡®Bind with me, and I will give you control of your curse.¡¯

    The words fell upon Kalistra like a bolt of lightning. She had been glaring hard at the steel floor, but her attention startled back to the elongated giant.

    ¡®Yes. I know of your people¡¯s search. A cure for the incurable. I can offer it to you. A path to help your people beyond your sacrifice.¡¯

    Mickie saw the moment the last of Kalistra¡¯s anger gave out, her reluctance broken under the weight of the primordial¡¯s promises.

    ¡®What would be the terms of our binding?¡¯

    The hollow cadence to her tone finally broke Mickie¡¯s hesitation to speak.

    ¡®Kalistra, are you sure about this? You only just got free.¡¯

    Ziz had begun to answer the gorgon¡¯s question but fell silent as Mickie spoke. It eyed him with something that must have been irritation, but allowed Kalistra the time to think.

    ¡®There are things you don¡¯t know Mickie. When I decided to escape with you I¡­¡¯

    She paused, appeared to gather herself.

    ¡®I, I¡¯m going to need this power. I¡¯ve seen what your bond provides, and it is far more than a normal deal.¡¯

    Kalistra returned her attention to Ziz, and when she spoke, she sounded sure of herself.

    ¡®What would be the terms of the binding.¡¯

    A growl echoed out of the avian¡¯s throat, a primeval sound of pleasure.

    ¡®I have just told you of the powers you shall receive. In return you must protect and support me through the cycle. Guide me to the places of power that facilitate my growth.¡¯

    ¡®Places of power? What are they?¡¯

    ¡®Locations in which the very essence of Hell bleeds forth to nourish the nine circles. There is one on the sands that you will be required to visit first.¡¯

    That was rather cryptic. Though Mickie figured at this stage mystery was par for the course when it came to bindings.

    ¡®And the others?¡¯

    Kalistra asked.

    ¡®The binding will guide you when you are close.¡¯

    ¡®Very well. So, I help you through your next cycle in exchange for power. Is there anything else.¡¯

    ¡®There is not.¡¯

    Ziz paused, and when it next spoke there was a hint of melancholy in its projected voice.

    ¡®I know you would prefer to remain unbound, but I am not Magareem. Only out of need do I offer this deal.¡¯

    Kalistra took a deep breath before stepping towards the chained giant.

    ¡®Yeah, okay. Let¡¯s just get this done.¡¯

    ¡®Very well.¡¯

    As the gorgon approached the avian¡¯s huge head, Mickie felt something shift in the air. It was like there were unseen currents forming. They pulled with a gravity of their own towards Kalistra and Ziz.

    ¡®Kalistra of the Gorgons, I offer you a deal. You shall escort me through the cycle, and in exchange I shall grant you the power to do so. Do you accept this binding?¡¯

    Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the light from their small lamp reflecting off the bronze of Kalistra¡¯s scales. In front of her Ziz¡¯s massive iris yawned like an open mouth into the abyss.

    ¡®I do.¡¯

    The unseen currents pulsed, reverberating like a plucked guitar string. For a moment Mickie swore he could see the souls as they were bound. Kalistra¡¯s a vibrant ball of force, Ziz¡¯s a shallow ocean. Their joining was not so much an intertwining as it was a calamitous collision. Kalistra¡¯s scream pulled him back to reality, and he found her double over the ground in a shuddering wreak.

    ¡®Ah, memories, huh kid?¡¯

    Without his noticing Miz-Mag had returned to its perch upon his shoulder. The little fiend was patting his ear with an expression of indulgent nostalgia. Mickie got the urge to toss the little demon through the hole in the floor.

    ¡®One day, I hope you have to go through that crap too.¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s agony lasted for what had to have been the most painful few minutes of her life. The only sign it had ended was the cessation of her writhing. She lay still, curled into a ball upon the steel floor.

    ¡®It is done. All that remains is to commence the cycle.¡¯

    Ziz¡¯s voice sounded weak, warbling as if it were having trouble shaping the air.

    ¡®A final word, abomination.¡¯

    The massive eye shifted in Mickie¡¯s direction, but it was like the creature could not see him.

    ¡®You should know of some ruins amongst the sands, near the broken plateau. If you should need allies, seek them there.¡¯

    A shudder ran through the giant with a clanking of chains.

    ¡®But first. The place of power. It hides the way to the sixth circle. Go there, awaken the old paths. You, are the key.¡¯

    ¡®Wait, what?¡¯

    ¡®What, is done.¡¯

    Ziz all but gasped.

    ¡®Cannot be, undone. Such, is the cycle.¡¯

    This was the second time a key had been mentioned since Mickie had arrived upon the seventh circle. He called out to Ziz, attempting in vain to get an explanation from the giant. Red light filled the prison chamber as chains started to glow, emanating a vibrant heat.

    As feathers began to burn Ziz opened its giant beak. A sound, something like a mixture between a cough and a laugh was emitted. There was a clang of steel meeting steel as the spikes driven into the base of its head ripped free. Blood followed, spilling onto the platform and forming a pool that stirred the visceral hunger within Mickie.

    The branded man suppressed his urges, taking a step back as Ziz continued to hack and cough. It was as if the big bird were choking on something and trying to clear its throat. The chains had burned their way through the feathers and now the air was filled with the scent of roasting flesh. Mickie realised something was visible in Ziz¡¯s open mouth. A mass, dark and glistening, that boiled forward with each heave of the giant.

    With a final, shuddering effort, the avian forced the mess out of its body and into the light of their lamp. It splattered into the growing pool of blood, creating a small wave. Droplets of red landed upon Kalistra¡¯s huddled form, finally breaking the gorgon out of her shaky convalescence. The mass that Ziz had vomited looked something like an oversized hairball, but one composed of glistening feathers.

    As Kalistra rose to her knees something rolled out of the sticky mass, thudding into the blood before coming to a stop near the gorgon. It was a grey, egg-shaped object, though longer than Mickie¡¯s forearm. The surface of the thing appeared to be made from tough skin or scales. Kalistra stepped into the blood, approaching the large oval as Ziz shuddered out a breath.

    ¡®It is done.¡¯

    The voice was weak, hardly more than a whisper on a windy day. With an effort that looked beyond titanic, Ziz watched as Kalistra collected the strange object and held it up.

    ¡®And so, the cycle begins anew.¡¯

    With that, the giant¡¯s eye closed, and its body went still. For a time, the only sound was the dripping of blood and the sizzle of flesh. Even with their captive dead, the chains that bound Ziz seemed intent of inflicting whatever arcane punishment had been carved into them. Mickie watched the scene in half a daze, still fighting back the driving hunger for the blood. He wondered if the rune carved bonds would burn right through Ziz¡¯s remains. If they did, then eighth circle would soon receive a delivery of overlarge and overcooked avian straight out of the sky.

    Kalistra turned from the body of the primordial and walked towards him. Her head was tilted downwards, hair limp and lifeless. Red footsteps marked her path out of the blood puddle, the strange egg-shaped object still cradled in an arm. Mickie watched her approach with apprehension, uncertain how well his was holding up after the binding.

    ¡®That.¡¯

    The gorgon said.

    ¡®Was one of the worst things I have ever experienced.¡¯

    Mickie chuckled.

    ¡®Yeah, well try it¡­¡¯

    His response stuttered to a halt as Kalistra abruptly looked up and into his eyes. The movement was so casual, so fluid, that Mickie had no time to react. There was a moment of shocked fear, followed by confusion as nothing happened. Then his brain circled back round to their conversation with Ziz.

    ¡®Control, huh.¡¯

    Mickie murmured. Kalistra¡¯s eyes had captured his attention, still bronze but distinctly different to those he had seen behind the aviators. Instead of serpentine slits her irises were rounded and large, pushing the sclera completely out sight. Her pupils were twin circles of black that drank in the lamp light.

    ¡®Your eyes, they¡¯re like Ziz¡¯s¡­¡¯

    He shook himself.

    ¡®That was risky. How did you know I wouldn¡¯t turn to stone?¡¯

    ¡®It is odd. I simply knew you would not be harmed, not unless I wished for you to be.¡¯

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Kalistra grinned and her attention shifted, away from him and towards the red demon huddled upon his shoulder.

    ¡®And you must be Miz-Mag. A pleasure to finally meet you.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s miniature partner spluttered.

    ¡®I, well uh, by the blood. You can see me?¡¯

    ¡®Indeed.¡¯

    ¡®And, you uh, you can hear me.¡¯

    ¡®I believe this conversation has made that readily apparent.¡¯

    ¡®Well, isn¡¯t that something.¡¯

    The serpents that formed Kalistra twisted about curiously, scenting the air near Mickie¡¯s partner. The tiny demon shrank back, shielding behind his ear.

    ¡®Yes, I¡¯m still growing accustomed to it myself. I do look forward to chatting with you though.¡¯

    ¡®Ehh, likewise.¡¯

    Miz-Mag squeaked from its makeshift hiding place. Mickie decided to help the little guy out, and made a gesture towards the oval shaped object in the gorgon¡¯s hands.

    ¡®Is that what I think it is?¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s expanded pupils flickered to the uneven ball of grey material.

    ¡®Yes, I can feel it. This is Ziz.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s¡­ That¡¯s rather dramatic. It must really have wanted out of the prison if it was willing to turn itself back into an egg.¡¯

    She only nodded. Feeling a little less put upon, Miz-Mag poked its head around from behind his ear.

    ¡®You ever hear the question about the chicken and the egg?¡¯

    The comparison was so apt, that Mickie could not stop himself from barking out a laugh. Kalistra smiled faintly and her hand drifted to her chest, rubbing a spot just below the line of her shoulders. Mickie recognised the motion and sobered. He did the same thing with the lumpen flesh on the back of his branded hand.

    ¡®Are you alright?¡¯

    Kalistra took a moment to answer, looking up towards the dark ceiling.

    ¡®It¡¯s just, the binding, I should be happy with it. The power to protect my tribe, control over the curse that has plagued us for so long. It¡¯s more than I ever expected to attain, more than I deserve.¡¯

    She took a deep, steadying breath.

    ¡®And yet¡­¡¯

    ¡®You are bound again.¡¯

    Mickie finished, receiving a shaky nod.

    ¡®Yes. After so long under Illiath¡¯s thumb and in the arena, I was finally free. Now though, here I am again.¡¯

    The gorgon sighed and hooked a clawed finger into the collar of the short provided to her by the urchins. She drew it down slightly to reveal the new brand marked upon her flesh. While Illiath¡¯s mark had been a dark tattoo upon her forehead, this one was much simpler and more visceral. It was a scar like Mickie¡¯s; a single, vertical line of puckered flesh that looked as if she had been scratched by a sharp talon.

    ¡®That¡¯s rather plain. I gotta say kid, ours has more style.¡¯

    Miz-Mag commented from its perch.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know.¡¯

    The branded man responded thoughtfully.

    ¡®There is elegance in simplicity.¡¯

    His partner scoffed and Kalistra removed her hand, covering the brand with her shirt. She smiled softly at the two of them.

    ¡®I must admit I am glad to no longer hear only half a conversation.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ll say, and the worse half at that.¡¯

    Miz-Mag agreed, broadening the gorgon¡¯s smile ever so slightly. She turned back to the gigantic barbeque that was Ziz¡¯s old body.

    ¡®As much as I would like more time to gather myself, I do believe we should leave while we have the chance. If Belphegor was willing to destroy the pillar to hide this place, then I imagine it has some method to monitor what occurs here.¡¯

    Mickie started. In all the excitement he had forgotten the cause for their presence within the primordial¡¯s prison. Even if the old lord had not realised its prize was loose, it likely would soon. You did not drop a pillar over the head of your prisoner without planning to check up on it. Who knew how long they had before the enforcers arrived.

    ¡®Yeah, we should probably make ourselves scarce.¡¯

    The branded man turned and squinted between hulking pieces of equipment. Even with the added light from the chains, the cavern was too large to be completely illuminated.

    ¡®Any chance Ziz told you about an exit before it turned into an egg?¡¯

    ¡®As a matter of fact.¡¯

    Kalistra smiled and hefted her burden.

    ¡®It did.¡¯

    <hr>

    The newly marked gorgon led the small group through the prison cavern. She walked with a surety that Mickie could not match, cautious as he was of the giant holes in the floor. The branded man figured she probably had gotten some level of improved vision in the darkness. If his theory was right, and the Soul Lord based its gemstone eyes off the abilities of Ziz, then Kalistra would probably be able to navigate with no light at all soon.

    Occasionally the gorgon would pause, allowing him to catch up before continuing. It was hard to judge in the dark, but Mickie felt they were heading in a different direction to that of their arrival. Whatever information Ziz had managed to impart upon his ally, it was enough that she was certain of their exit. When the giant¡¯s body was nothing more than a stretch of intermingles red lines, the group reached the cavern wall. Kalistra led them through a narrow passage carved into the stone, finally coming to a stop beside a wall of steel.

    ¡®Strange. This should be our way out.¡¯

    Mickie stopped beside her, just managing to fit shoulder to shoulder in the cramped tunnel.

    ¡®Could the way have been blocked without Ziz realising?¡¯

    ¡®No, maybe some other creature, but Ziz could observe what was happening on other circles when it awoke. This should have been no obstacle.¡¯

    She rested a hand upon the barrier.

    ¡®There are Transcriptions here. They are embedded, and subtle.¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s the vibe this time?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked, and Kalistra hummed thoughtfully.

    ¡®I¡¯m not certain. Dormancy perhaps? Almost like they¡¯re asleep.¡¯

    Mickie frowned in thought. He reached out a hand and rested it upon the wall of metal. A jolt ran through him, like a small charge of electricity. He got the sudden feeling he was being watched, countless eyes crawling across his flesh. A deep, reverberating echo rang through the barrier and Mickie tore his arm away. Before he had time to process what had happened the wall was moving, sliding aside to reveal a small chamber.

    ¡®By the blood kid, what did you do?¡¯

    ¡®I¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡¯

    As he spoke though, something occurred to him.

    ¡®You, are the key.¡¯

    Ziz¡¯s last words echoed through his mind, leaving a sense of foreboding in their wake.

    ¡®The runes have changed, woken up.¡¯

    Kalistra murmured, and turned her overlarge bronze irises upon him.

    ¡®Perhaps Belphegor has not uncovered all of the Soul Lord¡¯s secrets.¡¯

    The group entered the chambers, finding themselves in a small cylindrical space that look suspiciously like the interior of a machine. The walls were all steel, with pipework snaking through them between ceiling and floor. Against the far wall was something resembling a control panel. It was a flat sheet with two strange runes carved atop one another.

    ¡®Above, and below. At least I think that¡¯s what the interpretation is here.¡¯

    Kalistra pointed to the to the top and bottom rune respectively. Mickie kept his distance this time, wary of the impact his touch might have upon the device. The gorgon seemed less concerned, waving him impatiently towards the markings.

    ¡®Try it. Clearly you have some form of influence over these transcriptions, and Ziz was confident enough in this path out to impart it upon me.¡¯

    Mickie took a slow breath and glanced at Miz-Mag. The little fiend gave him a shrug.

    ¡®Better this than whatever Belphegor¡¯s gonna do if it catches us down here.¡¯

    The branded man reached out his marked hand and lightly touched the top symbol. There was that brief, invasive feeling of observation, before a shudder ran through the chamber. A steel barrier thudded into place over the entrance. Hidden lights in the ceiling flickered to life, casting the pipework in a web of shadows.

    ¡®Kalistra?¡¯

    He enquired. No further elaboration was required, the gorgon knew what he was asking.

    ¡®More runes are awakening. I feel momentum, flow maybe. Something else too¡­ containment?¡¯

    The chamber shuddered hard and suddenly there was the sensation of movement. An invisible hand pressed Mickie downwards as they accelerated.

    ¡®What is this?¡¯

    Kalistra muttered, and realisation struck Mickie.

    ¡®It¡¯s an elevator. Kind of like what we had back in the arena.¡¯

    Miz-Mag laughed in glee.

    ¡®Finaly. It¡¯s about time we got an easy ride.¡¯

    The chamber rumbled its way upwards through the stone. Occasionally there would be a pull in a separate direction as their heading change. Kalistra seemed confident in Ziz¡¯s guidance, but Mickie was not so certain. He was prepared for a fight if one was required, but if Belphegor was waiting for them on the other side of the ascent, he doubted he could win. The branded man might have gained power since their last encounter, but Mickie remembered how easily the lord had broken him.

    ¡®You know, something big bird said back there got me thinking.¡¯

    Miz-Mag said over the rumble of the elevator.

    ¡®Oh?¡¯

    Kalistra enquired.

    ¡®Yeah. It said something about us finding allies out in some desert ruins.¡¯

    ¡®I do not recall that.¡¯

    ¡®Well, I¡¯m pretty sure you were on the ground screaming, so that¡¯s not a surprise.¡¯

    Miz-Mag replied snarkily. Mickie sighed and cut in, not wanting to deal with his partner being turned to stone.

    ¡®I remember Mag. I don¡¯t really see how it¡¯s relevant right now though.¡¯

    ¡®Alright, let me speak. I was just thinking that I remember the Sovereign¡¯s lot saying something similar.¡¯

    ¡®You do? And you¡¯re only telling us now?¡¯

    The little demon scowled at him.

    ¡®If you didn¡¯t notice I¡¯ve had a bit on my plate recently.¡¯

    That, irritatingly enough, was a good point. Mickie shut his mouth and gave his partner a glare.

    ¡®That¡¯s what I thought. Now, if I can finish, when I was listening in on the top brass, they mentioned some pillar ruins. Said something about hearing music.¡¯

    ¡®Music huh¡­¡¯

    ¡®Yup.¡¯

    Mickie frowned at the floor.

    ¡®Hey Mag, who do we know that might help us and is related to music?¡¯

    The little demon hardly needed to think about it.

    ¡®The Kindle Kin!¡¯

    It gasped.

    ¡®Of course, how didn¡¯t I see it? But I thought they were staying in the palace?¡¯

    ¡®So did I. Looks like we were both wrong.¡¯

    Mickie tried to recall what the Conductor had said regarding the plans of the grey singers. He knew they had wanted to secure the palace, but did not know anything past that. Mickie had just assumed they would hunker down and solidify their position. A mistake in retrospect.

    ¡®Are these the same Kindle Kin that assisted you previously?¡¯

    Kalistra asked.

    ¡®We think so, though assisted is a bit of a stretch.¡¯

    ¡®And they would help us again?¡¯

    Mickie shrugged.

    ¡®Maybe, it¡¯s hard to say. They did seem to like me.¡¯

    The gorgon hummed.

    ¡®Then perhaps the Kindle Kin serve as a backup plan. I am required by my binding to seek out the nearest place of power and assist Ziz in its new cycle.¡¯

    ¡®Fair enough. We still need to figure out the actual way out. Ziz mentioned the place of power had something to do with it.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, something about you being the key, kid.¡¯

    Kalistra seemed a little taken aback by that, and Mickie threw Miz-Mag an irritated look. He would have preferred that to remain private.

    ¡®I see. From what Ziz¡¯s imparted to me, I get the sense that the path is there.¡¯

    The gorgon tilted her head, hesitating.

    ¡®Except the impressions are vague, it¡¯s almost like Ziz was unsure of the specifics.¡¯

    She did not press the branded man on the whole being a key thing, which he appreciated. In return he decided not to press her on the details of her binding, including all this additional knowledge she seemed to have gotten out of nowhere. As it turned out, Miz-Mag had no such qualms.

    ¡®Hey Kali, how come you seem to know so much suddenly? Did Ziz dump all its memories on you?¡¯

    Kalistra gave the little demon a look.

    ¡®Kali?¡¯

    Miz-Mag shrugged, unrepentant.

    ¡®Well, Kalistra¡¯s a bit of a mouth full ain¡¯t it?¡¯

    It was amazing how quickly Mickie¡¯s companion had shifted from being wary of the gorgon to pestering her as it did with him. The gorgon shared a look with Mickie, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. At least she found Miz-Mag¡¯s antics amusing.

    ¡®Well, if you must know, when my soul intertwined with that of Ziz, I received a¡­¡¯

    She hesitated, searching for the right word.

    ¡®Package of information. They are not true memories, closer to feelings and associations. Occasionally when I think of something, Ziz¡¯s opinion of it will come forward with my own. It is rather intrusive to be honest.¡¯

    Mickie winced, wondering if she got the old primordial¡¯s opinion of him. Seeing as Ziz had constantly called him an abomination, he doubted the associated thoughts would be pleasant. Miz-Mag started to respond, but at that moment the chamber shuddered and began to slow. They had made it back to the seventh.

    As the elevator came to a stop, the trio prepared themselves for violence. They had no idea where the exit was going to be, and if it was within the pillar city things were going to get messy. The same metal door that had sealed them inside thudded out of sight with a mechanical clank. Light spilled in through the open doorway.

    Hesitantly, the group moved through the threshold, finding themselves within a shallow, rocky cave. Once Mickie¡¯s eyes adjusted to the light, he found himself looking down upon an expanse of bone white trees. Kalistra had already wandered to the cave¡¯s mouth and was leaning out to glance around.

    Mickie followed suit and discovered that the cave was situated in a stone formation, closer to a jagged hill than towering pillar. It protruded from the bone wood like a whale breaching churning seas, providing them with a good view of their surroundings. Off to one side Mickie could see the point the towing dunes broke against the craggy earth off the woods. Beyond that he could just make out the city, or what was left of it.

    The pillar had collapsed like a falling tree, shearing away from the ceiling and burying a good portion of the city in rubble. Mickie wondered how many of Belphegor¡¯s own had been caught up in the collapse. Perhaps the direction it fell had been part of the plan, and the old lord had managed to keep its force clear. Either way, the ceiling was buzzing like a beaten wasp nest. Flying machines swarmed the path beyond the seventh, little more than an impressionistic blur at this distance. He definitely did not want to travel through that.

    ¡®Belphegor really did a number on it, huh?¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered, and Mickie nodded his agreement. Beside them Kalistra shifted, leaning forward then raising a hand to point into the distance.

    ¡®You see that blood lake? That¡¯s where we need to go.¡¯

    Mickie turned and tracked his eyes in the indicated direction, he saw nothing on the horizon but bone white trees and distant pillars.

    ¡®I think that eye upgrade might be doing more than we first thought. I got nothing.¡¯

    The little demon on Mickie¡¯s shoulder responded after a brief search. If Miz-Mag could not see it, then he had no chance. Kalistra seemed taken aback for a moment but recovered swiftly.

    ¡®Oh, I thought it was rather easy to spot.¡¯

    ¡®Makes sense.¡¯

    Mickie mused.

    ¡®Birds tend to have pretty good eyes for distance.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, well, there is a large blood lake in that direction. It seems to be the right heading for the place of power.¡¯

    ¡®Any sign of the ruins? Didn¡¯t Ziz say it was at some kind of ruins?¡¯

    He asked.

    ¡®Not that I can tell. Perhaps we will see it once we travel further?¡¯

    Kalistra replied, and Mickie nodded his agreement. The climb to the cracked earth below was going to prove a challenge for the gorgon with the added burden of Ziz¡¯s egg. She seemed confident in its durability but was wary of risky such a dangerous drop. Who knew what would happen to the big-bird¡¯s precious cycle if it got pancaked.

    To assist Mickie offered up his jacket and helped tie it into a strange backpack for the oversized oval. With the package secured the group exited the cave and climbed to the ground. It was good to feel the heat of the open air again, even if it held that same bloody tang. Entering the bone woods was something he was substantially less eager to repeat, but soon they were walking through the bleached boughs.

    ¡®How far do you think it is to this lake?¡¯

    Mickie asked Kalistra.

    ¡®It¡¯s hard to judge, I am not accustomed to gauging distance with my new eyes.¡¯

    She paused to think.

    ¡®Though if I were to guess I would say we should be able to make it before requiring rest.¡¯

    The branded man glanced at the corpse eating trees all around them.

    ¡®That would definitely be ideal.¡¯

    They continued in silence for a time, with only the tangy wind for company. Perhaps he was yet to readjust to it, but Mickie felt taste of blood in the air had not previously been so fierce. Eventually enough time passed that Miz-Mag opted to go rest, stating it was better now than when they got to the blood lake. Mickie just thought the little demon was bored of the travel. It was not long after the little fiend had vanished that Kalistra broke the silence again.

    ¡®I think I owe you an explanation.¡¯

    ¡®Hmm?¡¯

    The bone woods had reminded Mickie of the dead insect, and he had been distracted thinking of its final words.

    ¡®I know you probably think me foolish for striking the bargain.¡¯

    Still shifting his thoughts to the new conversation, the branded man glance up to find Kalistra glaring at the ground like it owed her money.

    ¡®What right do I have to judge you? I also made a deal.¡¯

    ¡®And yet, you disapprove. Do not deny it.¡¯

    Mickie frowned at his serpentine ally. He did not have a clue where she was going with this or why she was being so pushy.

    ¡®Saying I disapprove is a stretch.¡¯

    He thought for a moment.

    ¡®It¡¯s just, I was surprised you were willing to give up your freedom again. I wasn¡¯t disappointed though; I¡¯ve seen people sacrifice worse things than themselves for power.¡¯

    ¡®Before you came to Hell?¡¯

    Mickie nodded.

    ¡®At least when you made your deal it was your own soul on the line. There are far worse things than risking yourself.¡¯

    ¡®Like what?¡¯

    There was a hesitancy to the question that surprised Mickie. He glanced at the gorgon, meeting her eyes and seeing something that resembled fear in them. Unsure what had brought this conversation upon them, he gave his response some thought. Though in the end, there was only one answer to him, and it felt like the cold steel of a barrel against the back of his head.

    ¡®The betrayal of someone you trusted.¡¯

    The gorgon just watched him for a moment, before softly nodding and returning her attention to the cracked earth. Mickie did not push her for a response in the intervening quiet. He could tell that Kalistra was building herself up to something.

    ¡®My tribe. We are the last of the gorgons.¡¯

    She said, and it was hardly more than a whisper.

    ¡®We of the cursed eyes were hunted by the Sovereign, before it even began working with the Soul Lord. We never really understood why.¡¯

    The duo ducked beneath an oddly shaped branch, and Kalistra paused briefly, examining the distant pillars to gauge their heading.

    ¡®Our village was hidden on the fifth, tough to find and mobile. It was how we survived, at least that¡¯s what my mother told me.¡¯

    ¡®She was a hunter, right?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, to her core. My mother taught me the skills, but I never had the drive for it like she did. I was drawn to Transcriptions.¡¯

    There was a smile in her voice when she said that, but it faded quickly.

    ¡®One day, when she was out hunting, my mother discovered signs that there were demons scouting nearby. We moved the village, quick and quiet. Only, it did not work. Days after reaching the next site, before we had even finished setting up, another hunter discovered signs of demons. They were following us.¡¯

    ¡®Illiath?¡¯

    It was not a difficult guess, Mickie himself had been a victim of that particular demon¡¯s tracking prowess.

    ¡®Illiath.¡¯

    Kalistra confirmed, spitting the name like a curse.

    ¡®It took a while to show itself, began to kill off our hunters.¡¯

    A pause followed as the gorgon chocked on her next few words.

    ¡®It killed my mother.¡¯

    Such a simple statement, yet one that contained a pain deep as the abyss beneath the ninth circle. Mickie wanted to say something, give condolences maybe, but found himself unable to shake the words free. Who was he to sympathise? He, who had seen that pain in so many during his life, had been its cause more often than not.

    ¡®Illiath killed my mother, then came to our village. It said it could guide the Sovereign to us, would be rewarded for doing so. Said we needed to provide a reason for it not to.¡¯

    The gorgon¡¯s serpentine hair writhed, as if in agony.

    ¡®I just wanted to protect my people, the last of my kind. I gave myself up as a prize. A deal, as long as I served Illiath, it would not lead the Sovereign to my people. But it, it was too much.¡¯

    Her voice broke, became coloured by self-loathing and desperation.

    ¡®You remember the arena; you know what it was like. Months of blood, years of it. Blind and in chains when I was not fighting.¡¯

    It was then, finally, that Mickie realised what this was. Not just an explanation, but a confession.

    ¡®Then you came, offered me freedom, and I¡­¡¯

    She took a slow, shaky breath.

    ¡®How could I say no? I needed to leave, the arena was worse than death. And yet¡­¡¯

    ¡®Your tribe.¡¯

    Mickie finished as the gorgon trailed off.

    ¡®Yes, I reneged on the bargain with Illiath, not in such a way that would harm me, but in a way that freed it to act upon my people.¡¯

    The branded man nodded slowly. It was not hard to puzzle out why Illiath had not bound Kalistra to the arena through their deal. Lillith¡¯s heir had been ambitious, and likely wanted Kalistra to attempt an escape as she had. It would mean the demon could sell out the gorgon¡¯s tribe while keeping her enslaved. The best of both worlds.

    ¡®Illiath was overconfident. She thought she could retake you if you attempted escape, but we killed her.¡¯

    Kalistra chuckled. It was a dry sound, lacking in all mirth.

    ¡®You killed her. It does not change the fact that I sold out my people.¡¯

    The way she said it finally clicked something into place in Mickie¡¯s mind.

    ¡®You think you betrayed them?¡¯

    ¡®I did!¡¯

    She all but shouted, wheeling about to face him.

    ¡®I swore to them that I would endure, that they would be safe, and they believed me. Believed me because of who my mother was, because I was their golden child, their genius Transcriber.¡¯

    Her face fell.

    ¡®And I condemned them all.¡¯

    So, this was the reason. Why Kalistra had decided to make the deal with Ziz, why she was dead set on getting back to her people as quickly as possible.

    ¡®But Illiath is dead, it¡¯s physically incapable of leading anyone to your tribe.¡¯

    The gorgon sighed, rubbing her face with both hands.

    ¡®It cannot reveal them personally, sure. But do not underestimate that demon¡¯s spite. I¡¯m certain it had some kind of plan in place, some other way of making sure my people met their end. I need to get back to them, need to protect them.¡¯

    She turned away and started trudging onwards. The gorgon said no more, and quiet fell upon the pair like an invisible veil, heavy with expectation. Mickie realised that Kalistra had not said all of that just to inform him of her reasoning and intentions. No, that had been a confession, and as it was with all confessions, she now waited for him to pass judgement. The branded man felt a strange, abrupt need to laugh. He had not been joking earlier, there was no one with less right to judge the actions of others than him.

    ¡®It¡¯s not a betrayal.¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    Instead of speaking on impulse, Mickie had let the silence hang, taking his time to formulate a response. When he did finally speak, Kalistra jumped like a bee had just stung her.

    ¡®What you did, taking the opportunity to be free, you seem to think it was a betrayal of your people.¡¯

    Mickie stopped walking, and the gorgon soon followed suit. She turned to face him; expression pained.

    ¡®It was. I was the hand holding up the executioner¡¯s axe, and I let go.¡¯

    ¡®You did, but you gave them time. Do you think your tribe was idle while you were in the arena? Do you think they would have huddled in the corner while you heaped all the suffering upon yourself?¡¯

    ¡®I¡­¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s not what family is. If you were willing to give up that much for them, then how much do you think they were willing to give up for you?¡¯

    Mickie was asking questions, but not giving Kalistra a chance to respond. He felt something hot in his chest, a coal that always burned and now grew hot.

    ¡®I bet they¡¯ve been waiting for you to return, using the time you gave them to prepare.¡¯

    The branded man attempted to slow, to cool the anger.

    ¡®What you did was not a betrayal. Not when you act for your people even still.¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s expression was troubled, unconvinced. He knew what she had expected condemnations. She had probably half dreaded, half wanted them with that guilt riddled desire he knew too well.

    ¡®If it is not betrayal, then what is it?¡¯

    Mickie met her eyes. The gorgon¡¯s bronze irises seemed to swallow her pupils as she focused upon him.

    ¡®Loyalty.¡¯

    The word was like the whisper of an pleasant memory. Sweet, nostalgic, and impossible to ever have again. Kalistra held his gaze for a long few moments, before a small smile teased at the corners of her mouth.

    ¡®You really think that? Breaking my word with Illiath is somehow a show of loyalty?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, loyalty is more than a single choice, a moment of weakness. What you do now, you do to help your people, to return to them. That is loyalty.¡¯

    Mickie could tell she did not believe him, not really. But that was fine. Perhaps in time, when they reached her tribe, Kalistra would see that he was right. The branded man had been where she stood, had sacrificed himself for others, driven by guilt and need for redemption. Mickie had learnt the meaning of true betrayal, and it was a hell of a life lesson. Finally breaking eye contact with him, the gorgon released a long sigh.

    ¡®You know, for someone sent to the bottom of Hell, you can be downright virtuous at times Mickie.¡¯

    The branded man barked out a laugh, shaking off the melancholy.

    ¡®I got to say that¡¯s the first time anyone¡¯s said that about me.¡¯

    The tilt to Kalistra¡¯s lips shifted to a proper smile.

    ¡®Truly? It must be Hell then. I¡¯ve been told the standards are rather low down here.¡¯

    Mickie returned the smile, and the pair shifted their attention back to the path ahead. It was still a long way to the blood lake, and he had no doubt Belphegor would soon be combing the desert raw to find them. The branded man ducked beneath yet another bony branch and found his thoughts drifting back to the time before Hell. Of the life he had lived, and the events leading to his death.

    Back when he had first arrived in the castle, Mickie had lost himself. Out on the ice of the white wastes, he had thought he did not deserve this fate. That was laughable, and he knew it. When everyone else showed up at the gates of hell, Mickie was the one who got sent right to the bottom. That was the truth of it. And yet¡­

    ¡®Virtuous, huh.¡¯

    There was a first time for everything.

 26 â€“ Blood Tide

    The first sign they had reached their destination was the wet, visceral sound of bubbling blood. It explained the increasingly intense taste of iron in the air, though that did little to settle Mickie¡¯s queasy stomach. Kalistra spied the bubbling pool through the bone trees, pointing it out to him as a vague impression of red. This close to the blood, the leafless boughs about them seemed more vibrant, growing taller with thick, bulging masses of roots.

    Miz-Mag rode atop his shoulder, having returned from its rest some time earlier. Mickie thought the time required had been rather short, and he was unsure if it was because Mag had gone intentionally. After hearing all that stuff about Soul Bonds, he was unsure what to think. The branded man paused mid step as a strange feeling washed over him. It was vague, impressionistic as a soft breeze and familiar in the unremembered way of deja¡¯ vu.

    ¡®Woah. Kid, you feel that?¡¯

    The little demon had been slouching on its perch, but jumped upright at the same moment Mickie had paused.

    ¡®Yeah, I did.¡¯

    The only one who seemed unaffected was Kalistra. She had failed to notice the mortal stopping, only turning back to check on them at the sound of Miz-Mag¡¯s voice.

    ¡®Everything okay?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, I uh¡­ Did you feel anything just now?¡¯

    Mickie asked and received a puzzled look from the gorgon.

    ¡®Feel something? Like what?¡¯

    ¡®Like something was watching us.¡¯

    Miz-Mag cut in, and they both turned to give the fiend a look.

    ¡®What? I thought you felt it too kid?¡¯

    Now his companion mentioned it, Mickie could recall an intent behind the strange feeling, like it had been searching for something.

    ¡®Odd. I am unable to see anything nearby.¡¯

    Kalistra murmured and turned back to the lake. She took a couple more steps forward, peering through the trees.

    ¡®There is nothing apparent¡­ Oof.¡¯

    With a wheezed exhalation the gorgon stumbled backwards and fell over a gnarled, white root. She hit the ground with a pained grunt and puff of dust.

    ¡®You alright?¡¯

    Mickie started forward to assist as Miz-Mag let lose a peel of laughter.

    ¡®By the blood Kali, I thought those eyes of yours were supposed to help you see where you¡¯re going.¡¯

    The gorgon scrambled back to her feet, throwing the little demon a glare before turning away. Mickie could not help but notice the slight discolouration of her cheeks, however.

    ¡®Something blocked my way just now. I¡¯m fine.¡¯

    She checked on Ziz¡¯s egg, still in the makeshift sling made up of Mickie¡¯s jacket. After confirming her charge was safe, Kalistra gingerly stepped towards the lake again, hand outstretched, only to stop short. This time Mickie could see it, the way her palm was suspended in the air. It was pressed up against something. Kalistra lifted her other hand to the unseen obstacle and pushed hard against it. Her feet carved twin channels in the dry earth as she slid backwards.

    ¡®What in the nine?¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered as the gorgon straightened. Kalistra gave up on shifting the invisible barrier, but kept a few fingers pressed to it.

    ¡®I cannot see it.¡¯

    ¡®Clearly.¡¯

    Miz-Mag snipped and was promptly ignored.

    ¡®I should be able to to see it after gaining some of Ziz¡¯s power. I can see Miz-Mag, yet I cannot see this.¡¯

    Mickie moved towards the gorgon.

    ¡®If it¡¯s any consolation, I can¡¯t see anything either.¡¯

    The branded man stepped up beside his ally and reached forward gingerly. The tips of his fingers pressed upon a hard surface, and Mickie was seized. His body went rigid as stone, breath catching as lightning buzzed through his veins. It was electricity with intent, examining him, categorising him, and passing beyond him. Mickie¡¯s vision twisted as his brain was pulled along for the ride. Suddenly, the branded man was a sleeping titan with bones built into the earth. His veins were empty, yet his blood churned. An arm sat silent and quiet, fist closed but waiting to open, to reach up and grasp more of itself.

    With a sensation like pulling free from a pool of tar Mickie was abruptly back in his own body. He lay on the cracked ground, gasping and reeling, a headache blossoming behind his eyes. That had felt invasive beyond measure, like his consciousness had been scooped out of his own body. The others were silent as Mickie struggled into an upright position. He found them both stunned, fixated dead ahead where the invisible obstacle had suddenly become quite the opposite.

    <hr>

    It was a tower, a hulking thing of metal plates and dark recesses. The wall that he and Kalistra had touched curved to either side, cutting the view of the blood lake off entirely. They had moved a short distance away, back into the bone woods so they could take in the entire structure. From a distance it appeared almost squat for a tower, far too wide for its middling height. Tiered layers that reminded Mickie of a pyramid reached perhaps a tenth of the way to the stone ceiling.

    ¡®The architecture, I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡¯

    Kalistra muttered, and Mickie was inclined to agree. The basic curves and archways were downright minimalist compared to the eccentric styles of the dark city.

    ¡®It¡¯s kinda like the spire.¡¯

    He replied, recalling the tower¡¯s sleek panelling and glossy surface.

    ¡®Not the spire kid. The palace.¡¯

    Miz-Mag whispered, and Mickie realised that the little fiend was right. The palace of the ninth circle had been blockier than this, but these hulking layers of steel were reminiscent of that frozen monolith.

    ¡®How did you do that?¡¯

    Kalistra asked. The branded man dragged his attention from monstrous body of metal.

    ¡®I¡¯m not sure¡­ I just touched it, and it happened.¡¯

    Mickie did his best to recall the feeling of being so completely observed, of being outside himself and part of something larger than he was.

    ¡®It was kinda like when I activated the elevator, only¡­¡¯

    He searched for the right word.

    ¡®Different.¡¯

    Kalistra sighed.

    ¡®Now I understand why you were irritated by my analysis of the Transcriptions.¡¯

    Mickie chuckled softly.

    ¡®Yeah, you¡¯re not wrong. I¡¯ve got the same issue you had. It¡¯s just too difficult to quantify what I felt through words.¡¯

    The gorgon nodded, turning back to the eerie pyramid.

    ¡®Well, now we know why Ziz wanted us to head to the lake. Now that the veil is lifted, I can feel it. The place of power is within that building.¡¯

    ¡®Wild that the big bird even knew it was here.¡¯

    Miz-Mag commented, standing up to peer at the structure. Kalistra hummed her agreement.

    ¡®Yes. I could not see it, but I do not yet have the entirety of Ziz¡¯s power.¡¯

    She rubbed her hands together, and Mickie detected an undertone of excitement in the gorgon.

    ¡®Now, shall we go discover what awaits within?¡¯

    The lowest level of the layered structure was too high to climb, and there was no entrance apparent from where the trio stood, so they began to circle the squat tower. At first Mickie thought it entirely encapsulated the blood lake. He could still hear the crimson liquid bubbling away, but now the sound was contained by a layer of dark steel. Soon enough however, the group caught sight of a familiar glimmer of red about the curve in the wall. They came upon the lake and in doing so discovered an entrance into the structure. It was as if the tower had an open wound upon its side from which the boiling blood spilled forth. A rough arch framed a shadowed interior, open like the mouth of some titanic metal whale. No paths bridged the blood that bubbled jealously across the gap in the walls. If they wanted to get in, they would need to cross the lake.

    ¡®Well, isn¡¯t this scenic. Nothing like fresh air to clear the head, aye kid?¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s sarcasm was emphasised by a drop of blood dribbling into Mickie¡¯s eye. He grunted and rubbed his vision clear with his shirt. This close to the steaming lake blood was so thick in the air he could just about scoop handfuls of it free by waving his arms. Everything was coated in a layer of sticky viscera, and the heat seemed to be getting to Kalistra. The gorgon did not have the resistance Mickie did, and her serpentine hair sagged as she wiped blood from her face with a sleeve.

    ¡®I always knew the blood lakes were unpleasant. My kind are normally resistant to the extremes of temperature.¡¯

    She eyed Miz-Mag.

    ¡®The immutability of the mantle. It is truly astonishing that the abilities of all three primordials were weaved into your binding. How did you manage it?¡¯

    The little demon shrugged, acting nonchalant.

    ¡®I¡¯ve always had the abilities, Kali. Your bird buddy might have thought the Soul Lord stole them, but I¡¯ve never met the guy. I¡¯d imagine getting implanted with unholy power would be a thing one remembers. I know Mickie does.¡¯

    ¡®Do I ever.¡¯

    Mickie grumbled, eyeing the shoreline. He was hunting for some means of traversing the lake, a hidden path or stairway that would get them inside the tower.

    ¡®How curious.¡¯

    Kalistra murmured, forgetting the heat as a thought took her.

    ¡®And you were born about a century ago, correct?¡¯

    ¡®Yup. Old Miz-Mag has been aged to perfection, wise as they come, I am.¡¯

    The gorgon hummed her interest. Before she could respond however, Mickie finally noticed something that could be of use.

    ¡®Hey, you two, do you see that?¡¯

    He pointed to a dense cluster of bone trees on the far bank. Between the trees something low and dark was just barely visible.

    ¡®It looks like a boat.¡¯

    Kalistra hardly needed more than a moment¡¯s examination to reach the same conclusion he had. The gorgon seemed both excited and wary at what the discover entailed.

    ¡®A boat?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked, shaping the word as if for the first time. Mickie gave his partner a puzzled frown.

    ¡®You know, a boat. Floats on water, sails the seven seas.¡¯

    ¡®We use them to travel in the fifth circle.¡¯

    The gorgon added helpfully.

    ¡®Ah, I see, of course.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s eyes narrowed at the terse response.

    ¡®You don¡¯t know what a boat is, do you?¡¯

    ¡®What? Don¡¯t be silly, of course I do. I just forgot is all.¡¯

    Miz-Mag would not meet his eyes.

    ¡®Wise as they come, are you?¡¯

    Kalistra hid a smile while the little fiend cursed them both. As the trio made their way around the blood lake, they collectively tried to examine the interior of the tower. With her avian eyes, Kalistra had the most success peering through the blood mist and into the arch. She reported seeing a staircase that emerged from the bubbling lake. When he had noticed the boat Mickie had assumed they would be required to use it to access the structure. Now at least, he was certain. The trio reached the tight group of bone trees after a few minutes of walking through sticky heat. Mickie took in the old vessel with a growing sense of unease.

    ¡®Well, this is downright rustic.¡¯

    Miz-Mag commented at the sight of the dented dinghy. Their boat, if it could even be called that, was a sheet of dark metal that had been bent and warped into an oversized canoe. It was bolted together at the joints and welded closed. Honestly Mickie thought the most significant ingredient in its construction was faith, a poor choice considering where they were.

    ¡®At least it comes with a paddle.¡¯

    He indicated a battered section of metal that more closely resembled a piece of scrap than an actual oar. Kalistra bent down to examine the sides of the vessel.

    ¡®I can see traces of dried blood on it. Whoever built this must have successfully used it at least once.¡¯

    She straightened and glanced towards the lake.

    ¡®I believe it will serve our purposes.¡¯

    The gorgon needed to get into that tower, and this was the only ready-made option available to them. Mickie swallowed his reluctance and assisted in dragging the boat towards the lake. At the blood¡¯s edge the heat was downright intense. The bubbling crimson hissed at the dead earth that bordered it, angry it was contained in something so mundane as a lake.

    They shoved the vessel onto the surface and squinted warily through the crimson haze to see if it would hold up for use. A long moment past in which the boat bobbed atop the lake, shuddering with the shifting blood but remain surprisingly dry.

    ¡®Miracles do happen.¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered. Beside them Kalistra was looking distinctly worse for wear. The gorgon could not handle the heat nearly as well as they could, and the proximity to the lake was taking its toll. Mickie waved her towards the vessel.

    ¡®If we¡¯re going to do this then we¡¯d better get moving. I¡¯ll shove us off.¡¯

    The gorgon looked as if she might object, then thought better of it. She gave him a slow nod and stepped gingerly into their makeshift vessel of dark steel, taking care to avoid touching the lake itself. Miz-Mag hopped along after her, not willing to risk a dip on Mickie¡¯s shoulder. The branded man waited until his companions were settled before heaving against the stern of the oversized canoe. It slid the final foot or so off the bank and he pulled himself in as it came free. Mickie had not been as careful as Kalistra, and as a result planted one foot into the blood before making it in the vessel.

    During his time within hell the branded man had come to rely on his temperature resistance. From navigating the white wastes to surviving a flamethrower blast from the mechanist, it had proven itself time and again. He now realised, with one foot coated in steaming blood, that it had also made him careless. Pain raked against his flesh in a cacophony of overwhelming sensation. For the first time since he had arrived in Hell, Mickie¡¯s skin was burning.

    Rather than the graceful landing in the boat that he had been planning, he flopped heavily over the side. The vessel bobbed and shook dangerously as it floated away from the shore, though he hardly noticed. For the moment all he knew was fire and pain. His flesh felt as if it were melting, dissolved by blood that was closer to acid.

    ¡®By the nine kid, stay still, you¡¯re going to tip us!¡¯

    Mickie hissed out breath and held himself rigid on the floor of the boat. The steel was surprisingly cool against his cheek. Idly, he wondered why the boat was not as hot as the blood upon which they floated. In doing so he realised he had the capacity for such thoughts. The pain was receeding like the ocean¡¯s tide, ebbing gradually away.

    When he finally felt human again, Mickie twisted slowly around to face the cavernous roof. He could feel the bubbling lake as a constant vibration of steel against the back of his head. If not for the lingering pain and air thick with blood it might have been pleasant.

    ¡®That, sucked.¡¯

    He rasped out and pulled himself into a sitting position to assess the damage.

    ¡®I¡¯ll say. You nearly cooked the lot of us.¡¯

    Mickie gave his little partner an irritated look before shifting his attention to his bloodstained foot. To his surprise, the limb looked healthy, if a shade pinker than usual.

    ¡®Well, that uh, that definitely looks better than it felt.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, it sure does now kid.¡¯

    Miz-Mag replied with a low laugh.

    ¡®But for a while there, whoof.¡¯

    The mortal frowned in confusion, equal parts irritation and uncertainty. He glanced up at Kalistra for an explanation. The gorgon had taken up the boat¡¯s makeshift paddle and was now expertly guiding them through the lake.

    ¡®It was bad Mickie. Remember when I told you blood storms can flay the flesh from your very body? Well, I meant it.¡¯

    Her voice was clearer now they were moving towards the tower. Mickie figured the scare of their little vessel almost capsizing must have shaken off some of the heat induced lethargy. Kalistra glanced momentarily at his foot before dipping her paddle back in the blood.

    ¡®I¡¯d heard the boiling blood was strong, but for it to overcome even the resistance of Behemoth¡­¡¯

    She trailed off.

    ¡®I mean, it hurt alright, but I¡¯m not actually injured so the protection held up.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, trust me kid, it definitely did not. Stuff melted you like wax; I thought you were going to be useless for days afterwards.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave his pinkish toe a pat.

    ¡®Except you bounced right back, healed up like it was nothing.¡¯

    ¡®I what?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, it was rather curious.¡¯

    Kalistra answered.

    ¡®For all the blood seemed to hurt you it must also have invigorated you, accelerated your regeneration. A poisoned pill, if you will.¡¯

    Suddenly, the strange tint to Mickie¡¯s skin took on new meaning. It was the discoloration of new flesh, replaced after the blood had boiled it away. Stranger than the fact of his recovery was how little it bothered the branded man. Sure, his foot had almost been burnt off by acid, but it was hardly his worst injury. In the arena he had spent weeks getting torn to pieces and pulling himself back together.

    If anything, Mickie was more worried about how little his pink new toes impacted him than the injury itself. Something about the change in his psychology felt wrong. It was like every time he was injured, something other than flesh was leaving his body. Something that did not heal as fast as the rest of him did.

    The mortal cast a wary glance over the bubbling lake, looking for a distraction from pit forming in his gut. His eyes caught on the approaching archway. Kalistra had mentioned her people navigated the fifth circle on boats, and her skill with the oar reflected that. They had glided smoothly across the deadly waters while Mickie recovered, and were rapidly approaching the tower¡¯s shadowed entrance.

    This close he could see the staircase, set out at the far side of a large chamber. Mickie had expected the heat to be more intense, trapped as it was within the structure. However, there was an almost imperceptible cooling as they passed beneath the arch. Mickie noted the movements of the blood mist, streaming upwards as if it were being sucked away. He fished out their lamp with one hand and cast some light over their surroundings.

    The orb was too weak to illuminate where the blood was going, instead it cast shadows over layers of balconies and walkways in a chamber almost as tall as the tower itself. It was like they had wandered into an abandoned beehive, one constructed with a logic that only made sense to the original makers. Mickie could just make out the distant ceiling, a dark impression far above their heads like the night sky glimpsed through a thick forest canopy.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Kalistra guided them across the chamber to the stairs. Mickie volunteered to exit first, and this time made sure to avoid any contact with the surrounding blood. He held the boat secure as Miz-Mag clambered up to his shoulder and the gorgon joined him on the staircase.

    ¡®We will have to pull this up; there is no mooring rope or place to tie it.¡¯

    His serpentine companion observed, indicating their battered vessel. Mickie grunted and glanced up the stairs.

    ¡®At least it isn¡¯t far.¡¯

    Standing at the blood¡¯s edge, it certainly did not look far. Only fifteen to twenty steps. As it turned out, that became quite the distance when you were hauling a heavy metal boat. He and Kalistra were gasping by the time they dragged it the last little bit onto an open platform.

    ¡®Finally, I could¡¯ve got that done twice as fast if I was half your size.¡¯

    Miz-Mag spent the entire walk up the stairs berating them with its version of encouragement. If Mickie¡¯s hands had not been full dragging the boat he might have tossed the little blighter into the blood lake. Kalistra readjusted her makeshift egg holder as she examined their surrounds. The group had reached a rather simple landing, with open halls to either side and another set of stairs dead ahead.

    ¡®What¡¯s the verdict? Ziz telling you where to go?¡¯

    Mickie asked.

    ¡®Somewhat. Perhaps the veil on this place did indeed affect Ziz¡¯s senses, because the impressions I get here are rather vague.¡¯

    She glanced down the side passages.

    ¡®I know that we should not travel further up, however.¡¯

    That was better than nothing, they were essentially on the ground floor after all. The gorgon ended up deciding on one of the side passages at random, guiding them into a network of dark halls. They did not have to travel far. The passage wrapped about a corner before reaching another staircase, one that travelled downwards.

    ¡®This is it. I can feel it, we are close.¡¯

    Excitement danced behind the gorgon¡¯s words, and she started down the stairs before Mickie or Miz-Mag could object. The branded man could only hope whatever lay below was not drowned in blood as he followed behind. They moved further down than they had come upwards, far enough that the they were beneath the surface level of the boiling lake.

    ¡®Ah, yes. This looks like a great idea.¡¯

    Miz-Mag commented dryly at the sight of the next hall. While it looked to be in good condition, the place had clearly sprung a leak somewhere. A film of red clung to every surface, and the air was a noticeable degree hotter than before. Kalistra had not hesitated though, and Mickie trotted to catch up as she strode down the passage.

    The gorgon led them to an odd intersection. It appeared as if someone had punched a hole into one of the walls. The passage beyond was still made from the same dark steel, but the design seemed off, like the walls were constructed by someone imitating the larger building. Whoever had made the addition, they did not apparently have the knack for keeping their tunnels sealed. Bloody mist was thick in the air, so much so that Mickie could not see through to the end of the passage. He noted rivulets of red dripping down the walls to puddle on the floor, blood leaking in through the seams.

    ¡®I think this is why the rest of this level was so steamy, it¡¯s all spilling out from this one place.¡¯

    He said. Miz-Mag gave a thoughtful grunt at his observation, but Kalistra did not seem to care. She only had eyes for the leaky passage. The gorgon said nothing as she strode purposefully into the bloody mist, egg cradled in his jacket. Mickie¡¯s hesitation was long enough that the haze swallowed her, turning his companion into a rapidly fading silhouette.

    Even though he had fallen behind, the mortal did not dare rush to catch up with Kalistra. It had not been that long ago that Mickie was writhing on the bottom of their boat. The puddles of blood in the tunnel might have cooled compared with the lake, but he was not eager to try his luck. As he stepped through the mist, Mickie¡¯s thoughts shifted to the path they had taken getting here. He attempted to map the turns and angles, guiding by a growing suspicion.

    ¡®Hey Mag, I think we¡¯re below the lake.¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    His little companion started, then took a moment to think.

    ¡®By the nine kid, you¡¯re right. It would explain why everything¡¯s so soggy.¡¯

    Ahead Kalistra had stopped, and her features became more distinct as Mickie closed the intervening distance between them. The mist cleared as he stepped out of the passage and into a small cavern. Unlike the tunnel this space was natural, a craggy hollow in the stone beneath the seventh circle. That, however, was not the cave¡¯s most distinct feature. What truly set it apart from the rest of the tower, was the fact that the space was absolutely overflowing with blood.

    Gaps in the walls and ceiling burbled with the liquid, emitting steaming streams of red that poured into a small lake at the cavern¡¯s base. Superheated mist rose in a viscous cloud, but did not hang in the chamber. Cracks in the ceiling seemed to vacuum up the heavy air, keeping the space relatively clear and breathable. Mickie did not get the chance to dwell on that incongruity, not with the chamber¡¯s centrepiece demanding all his attention.

    Before them a steel staircase hung above the bubbling pond, crossing it to connect with a fat stone pillar. Atop the pillar, a line of deep crimson connected the floor to the ceiling. It was a blood waterfall, except one in which the liquid flowed up instead of down. With the rhythmic thump of a heartbeat, blood pulsed up the stream and into the roof of the cavern. To Mickie, it looked as if they had stumbled upon the inside of some giant monster¡¯s body. That crimson flow atop the stone pillar was an exposed vein, a vessel that resisted the pull of gravity.

    ¡®Holy shit.¡¯

    Was all he could manage at the sight. Beside him Kalistra pulled the egg free from its makeshift carrier. She returned Mickie¡¯s jacket to him and took a step forward.

    ¡®Stay here. I think¡­ I think what comes next will be dangerous.¡¯

    ¡®Well, yeah.¡¯

    He said, still dumbfounded.

    ¡®Have you not seen this place?¡¯

    The gorgon hardly seemed to hear him, her overlarge eyes wide with intermingled fear and excitement.

    ¡®Yes, yes, of course I have. It is where I am required to be, my binding is screaming at me to disrupt the flow.¡¯

    She nodded towards the inverted blood stream.

    ¡®I should remain unharmed, but the same cannot be said for anyone nearby.¡¯

    Mickie was not so sure about that. He also had one of these soul bindings, and knew how painful the changes they instilled could be. Yet, they had no other choice. Kalistra had to seek out these places of power, just as Mickie had to climb the circles. Pushing back his trepidation at the death trap of a chamber, he managed to work free a modicum of support.

    ¡®Alright. Good luck.¡¯

    She gave him a slow nod and began to walk up the stairs. Mickie took a few steps back, but did not go so far that he lost sight of the central pillar. Kalistra reached the wide protrusion, stepping upon it and approaching the pulsing blood. The gorgon raised Ziz¡¯s egg and hesitated. For a long moment Mickie thought she might not do it, that Kalistra would risk breaking her own bond to leave the pulsing vein undisturbed. Then, in the space between rippling heartbeats, she plunged the egg into the blood.

    There was a long pause in which nothing happened. Then, the chamber erupted. Mickie was almost thrown off his feet as a shuddering quake ran through the floor. The gaps that spurted blood in the walls and ceiling abruptly became geysers, spraying superheated liquid into the churning lake. Mickie gaped as the level of the blood in the room began to rapidly rise and the air became thick with burning fog. It was as if Kalistra had triggered a miniature apocalypse. She huddled atop the pillar like a leaf in a storm as the pulsing blood waterfall became a pounding torrent.

    Mickie tried to take a step forward and received a splash of burning blood to the face for his efforts. The branded man cried out and stumbled back to the relative safety of the tunnel. The gorgon needed to get back to them and do so now. At the chamber¡¯s base the small lake was reaching dangerous levels, only feet away from his position.

    ¡®Kalistra!¡¯

    His ally was little more than an impression in the mist now, a hunched form atop the pillar. It had all gone wrong so fast, he should never let her make that accursed deal with Ziz.

    ¡®Kid we gotta go.¡¯

    Miz-Mag cried into his ear as the blood reached the tunnel¡¯s entrance. It spilled towards Mickie¡¯s bare feet, and he stumbled away from the burning liquid. If he stayed any longer the rising lake would engulf him. Yet, if he left, he would be condemning his friend to face whatever awaited her alone. It took a splash of blood on his toes to finally force a decision from Mickie. With a last, desperate look to the gorgon¡¯s impression within the thickening mist, the branded man turned on a heel and ran back the way they had come.

    Behind him liquid sloshed and gurgled as blood flooded the tunnel. The seams on the wall were failing before his very eyes. Crimson pulsed from cracks like the tunnel was some wounded creature. Mickie leapt and swerved to avoid the growing puddles of steaming viscera. He was within sight of the passage¡¯s end when he lost focus and slipped.

    Miz-Mag screamed and was thrown free as Mickie tumbled forward. The branded man rolled through a viscous puddle and the left side of his body screamed in burning protest. It was not as bad as the lake above however; the blood having cooled on the tunnel¡¯s floor. Mickie scrambled upright, scooping up Miz-Mag and stashing the little demon in a pocket. He risked a glance backward just in time to see the blood tide reach his feet. It clipped his toes as Mickie took off, nearly tripping him all over again.

    The mortal and his tiny demonic partner burst out of the makeshift passage, hitting the adjacent wall and pushing off it. Mickie ran for the stairs as the blood tide sloshed out behind him. Now though, there was other directions in which the liquid could flow. It¡¯s progress slowed and Mickie finally managed to put some distance between himself and a painful demise. It was not until he had stopped running atop the stairs that Miz-Mag finally emerged from his pocket.

    ¡®Well, that was uh¡­ that was a close one.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s leant against a wall and spent a moment catching his breath. His head thudded back against the cold steel as he closed his eyes. Just like that, Kalistra was gone, swallowed by the fury of the boiling lake. She did not have his resilience, if that blood overcame the pillar, then his ally would die. She might already be dead, for that matter. Mickie let his head sag forward again before cracking it hard against the wall.

    ¡®What was that?¡¯

    He croaked, without looking at his demon companion.

    ¡®Not a clue kid, I know as much about these places of power as you do.¡¯

    Mickie gave a minute shake of the head.

    ¡®No, not the place of power, I mean what just happened. That blood almost killed us, and if the lake rises too high, it¡¯ll get Kalistra too.¡¯

    It seemed so unreasonable to him, what had the old primordial intended by making her do that? What would happen to its precious cycle of she died?

    ¡®Remember Ziz made a binding with her kid. If she goes down, it does too.¡¯

    ¡®I guess¡­ it¡¯s just, surely it would have warned us about the danger. What if the spell or whatever it was that kept this place invisible restricted its sight? What if the damned thing didn¡¯t actually know how risky its plan was?¡¯

    Miz-Mag hummed thoughtfully, but did not respond. The pair stood in silence for a time, both uncertain what to do next as they listened to the gurgle of boiling blood. On the stairs behind them, the tide had finally come to an end. Mickie peered down at the steaming liquid, stopped halfway between one step and the next. He thought about the main lake and that first set of stairs.

    ¡®I think it¡¯s level with the lake.¡¯

    He observed, and Miz-Mag released a grunt.

    ¡®Maybe.¡¯

    There was a pause as the little demon considered.

    ¡®Kid, listen. The gorgon might be alive, or she might not. Either way, there¡¯s nothing we can do for her right now.¡¯

    Miz-Mag waited for a response, but Mickie had nothing to say. He was no idiot; he knew the facts.

    ¡®To be honest with you, I thought these ruins were going to be our way out of the floor. At least, the big bird made it seem that way. Anyway, that¡¯s clearly not the case.¡¯

    Ziz had implied that heading to the blood lake was their best bet at escaping the seventh circle. It had also said that Mickie was the key. The memory of his brief contact with the structure flashed through the branded man¡¯s mind. The feeling of an arm waiting to outstretch.

    ¡®What I¡¯m getting at is, we need to find some other way¡­¡¯

    ¡®Hold on.¡¯

    The little fiend had begun to ramble and stumbled to a stop at the sound of Mickie¡¯s voice.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening to Kalistra, but I¡¯m not going to leave until I¡¯ve found out.¡¯

    Miz-Mag opened its mouth to protest but Mickie cut the little demon off.

    ¡®Plus, I think this place is still our ticket out of here. You remember the thing with the elevator, right?¡¯

    Miz-Mag hesitated for a moment, then tilted its little head.

    ¡®Sure.¡¯

    ¡®Well, I think these ruins are like that.¡¯

    ¡®What? They ain¡¯t even connected to the ceiling. How¡¯s an elevator going to work?¡¯

    Oddly enough, Mickie found himself chuckling. He could not say why.

    ¡®Just trust me on this. We need to find a control panel or something.¡¯

    The little fiend sighed.

    ¡®I suppose taking a look can¡¯t hurt.¡¯

    Its golden eyes surveyed their dark metal surroundings.

    ¡®Though how you expect this pile of scrap to connect to the next circle is beyond me.¡¯

    Mickie shrugged.

    ¡®I just got a feeling about it.¡¯

    He straightened and started down the tunnel.

    ¡®This place still has a few secrets.¡¯

    The duo made their way back to the entrance landing, situated at the hive-like interior of the tower. Above Mickie¡¯s head the layered web of latices and catwalks hung like the nest of a giant metal spider. They had a lot of ground to cover. Nearby their battered boat was on its side, still coated in a layer of lake blood. Mickie thought it looked more like an abandoned wreck than a functioning vessel.

    His attention drifted, inevitably, to the giant body of boiling blood. It filled what would otherwise have been the bottom floor of a grand entrance chamber. Actually, now Mickie thought of it, the space did look something like a large foyer. Framed by the archway in the distance, overlooked by the catwalks above. Without all the blood he felt it would probably be impressive instead of sinister.

    ¡®Where to kid?¡¯

    Miz-Mag pulled Mickie from his inner musings. The branded man shifted his attention to their options for conducting a search. There were the stairs leading up and into the structure, and the passage on the opposite side of the landing, a mirror to their own. If he were a control room, where would he be? There was only one way to find out. Mickie turned towards the staircase upwards, thinking it was as good of a start as any.

    <hr>

    The desert tower was large, and as far as either the branded man or his demon partner could tell, completely empty. The longer they spent searching without turning up anything of value, the more Mickie¡¯s frustration with the whole endeavour grew. Below them the blood lake gurgled its metallic mist ceaselessly, leaving the air heavy with the taste of iron. Whenever Mickie caught sight of it over the edge of a catwalk, he was reminded of the cave that lay beneath. Of his ally who might even now be nothing more than bones in a bubbling blood soup.

    For Miz-Mag, the thought of a control room meant the potential for a path to the next circle. It was the thing Mickie had used to entice the little demon¡¯s assistance in the search. Escaping the seventh was not the mortal¡¯s only objective, however. If there was indeed a control room somewhere in the tower, it might be able to drain away some of the blood lake. Mickie could use it to try and get Kalistra out of that underground cavern.

    ¡®Nothing in this one either. For a ruin out in the desert, this place sure is boring.¡¯

    A voice echoed out of a shadowed doorframe in the passage Mickie was currently searching. Miz-Mag followed the words into the light of their orb lamp, sighing dramatically.

    ¡®Honestly kid, if we don¡¯t find something soon, we¡¯ll have picked this place clean.¡¯

    The little demon was not wrong. They had made their way up through level after level of dark metal corridors, stacked full of rooms that contained absolutely nothing. It had long since past the point of strange and shifted into downright uncanny. Even if the tower¡¯s contents had rotted away, there should have been some trace left, yet the only thing loose in these halls was sand blown in from the desert.

    Ahead Mickie noticed another seam in the wall and moved to examine it. This had been a recent discovery, and one of the most unnerving yet. The metal panels that made up the structure were not always perfectly flush with one another. Occasionally, there was a noticeable gap separating large sections, such as the one Mickie now examined. A thin slice of darkness cut through the floor and ran up the walls before parting the ceiling. It was like the tunnel had been bisected by a razor sharp blade.

    While not overly notable in and of itself, there was more to the small seams than one might think. Something Mickie had first caught out of the corner of his eye. Slowly, the branded man held aloft his lamp and peered into the gap in the metal. For a breath there was nothing, then a whisper of movement, a minute hiss of air. Mickie strained to make out what it was, but the darkness beyond the walls resisted the light of his lamp. Straightening, he sighed.

    ¡®Spot another one, did ya?¡¯

    Miz-Mag had wandered over as he observed the seam.

    ¡®Yeah, still couldn¡¯t see what it was though.¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t get why you keep trying kid, not like seeing whatever it is will do us any good.¡¯

    The branded man ran a hand through his hair.

    ¡®It¡¯s just.¡¯

    He spent a moment gathering his thoughts.

    ¡®There¡¯s something off about all of this.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ll say, we just watched a gorgon piss off an upside-down blood waterfall by shoving an egg into it.¡¯

    Mickie paused. When you said it that way it did sound rather absurd. He shook his head, getting back on point.

    ¡®Not just that, I mean this place.¡¯

    He waved at the tower emphatically.

    ¡®I felt something was off when I touched the tower before. It was almost like it wanted to¡­ stretch out or something.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave him a confused look but did not interrupt.

    ¡®Then we get in here and find the blood waterfall. I don¡¯t know about you, but to me, the way that thing was pulsing it¡­¡¯

    He hesitated momentarily, knowing how absurd this was going to sound.

    ¡®It was like a heartbeat.¡¯

    This time he waited for the little demon to respond. Miz-Mag shrugged its red shoulders.

    ¡®If you say so. I wouldn¡¯t know.¡¯

    Mickie was taken aback.

    ¡®What do you mean you wouldn¡¯t know?¡¯

    The little fiend looked at him like he was an idiot.

    ¡®Uh, because I don¡¯t have a heart. Honestly kid, do you not know anything?¡¯

    The branded man was too astonished to be annoyed at the snark in his partner¡¯s response.

    ¡®No heart? That can¡¯t be true, you¡¯re alive, aren¡¯t you?¡¯

    ¡®Of course I¡¯m alive, as much as anyone can be down here. But I¡¯m also a demon kid. Now, stop gaping and tell me what that blood waterfall has to do with these cracks.¡¯

    It stomped a foot on the seam for emphasis, and almost fell over as part of its foot slipped between the metal sheets. Mickie hardly noticed, still stuck upon the revelation that his partner apparently did not have a heart. He had so many questions, like, was that real or some weird metaphor? And, if it was true, did all demons somehow get by without a heart? Miz-Mag righted itself and threw Mickie an angry look, as if he was somehow at fault.

    ¡®C¡¯mon kid. We ain¡¯t got all eternity, we need to finish searching the place.¡¯

    That finally broke Mickie from his astonishment. He sighed at the obtuse little demon. After the palace he had thought they were beyond vague half answers. It appeared the habit was not so easy for his partner to shake.

    ¡®All right, but we¡¯re revisiting this later.¡¯

    Miz-Mag rolled its eyes like an exasperated teenager, and Mickie felt a twinge of familiar irritation.

    ¡®As I was saying.¡¯

    He muttered while tossing the demon a dirty look.

    ¡®The blood waterfall was pulsing like some kind of heartbeat. Now we find the whole building is more or less empty, and there¡¯s weird shit moving behind the walls. I think this tower isn¡¯t actually a tower.¡¯

    ¡®What now?¡¯

    ¡®I mean, it¡¯s like the place is something else, something that¡¯s only pretending to be a tower. On examination it might seem like just a building, but things are off. All the rooms we¡¯ve found so far are empty, and the halls aren¡¯t physically connected.¡¯

    Mickie gestured at the dark seam in the floor. Finaly seeming to get what he was saying, Miz-Mag took a wary step away from the dark crack.

    ¡®You make it sound like the building is alive or something.¡¯

    The fiend muttered.

    ¡®Not alive, at least I don¡¯t think so. Just, that it isn¡¯t what it seems.¡¯

    Mickie had been unsure of his suspicions, but vocalising them had helped crystalised his views. If Miz-Mag¡¯s unease was any indication, his partner also seemed to think the idea was credible. It did not change their current goal, if anything, a control panel might tell them what the function of the tower really was. Mickie started down the passage, and Miz-Mag clambered up to his shoulder instead of ranging ahead. It was a little late for the demon to get nervous about exploring, but the mortal stayed silent on the matter. They did not have much ground left to cover anyway.

    The passage led to another set of stairs, which in turn opened onto one of the tower¡¯s prominent balconies. It was not only opening Mickie and Miz-Mag had stumbled across, but it was the first at such a height. The edge of dark steel had no barrier, and from it the branded man could see the various levels of the tower slanting downwards, like the stones on a pyramid. Beyond that the bone wood stretched like a spiky carpet until it lost out to the desert dunes.

    ¡®Hell of a view.¡¯

    Miz-Mag commented from his shoulder.

    ¡®Hey, look, ain¡¯t that the pillar city?¡¯

    Mickie had to squint to make out the object at which his partner pointed. From this far the city looked like a roundish smudge of brown amidst the washed-out yellow sand. Oddly enough, Mickie noted that the very same bone wood they now occupied arced across the horizon to intersect with the city. It must be the same one he and Kalistra first noticed when they accessed the drainage system. The branded man turned from the view to continue his search when a though struck him.

    ¡®Hey Mag, you know how we made the tower visible?¡¯

    ¡®Sure kid.¡¯

    ¡®Well, won¡¯t that mean they can see it from the city?¡¯

    Miz-Mag glanced between Mickie and the giant structure of dark steel, contrasting nicely against the lighter desert. The demon shifted to peer at the distant smudge of brown.

    ¡®You know, I think they¡¯ll probably notice.¡¯

    ¡®Which is not good news.¡¯

    ¡®No, it is not.¡¯

    The demon dragged out the last syllable of the word, probably feeling just as stupid as Mickie did. In retrospect, they both knew the city was not that far away, they had seen it after the lift out of Ziz¡¯s prison. It should have been apparent that a mysteriously appearing tower might be attention grabbing. Not only that, but the fact they had just snagged Belphegor¡¯s favourite prisoner out from under its nose should have had them on high alert. If Mickie were the old lord, and needed to find a wayward primordial, then a mysterious tower would make for a good starting point.

    ¡®We¡¯d better find that control room.¡¯

    Mickie muttered.

    ¡®You know, I was just thinking that kid.¡¯

    Without further delay the duo turned back to their search. Their current floor was done, leaving only the final level for them to check. A set of stairs were shaped into the exterior wall of the building, allowing them to ascend onto the highest balcony. Mickie entered back into the tower through a simple archway and was greeted by a straight hall. It was a corridor that connected to a single, open room.

    ¡®Well, this is promising.¡¯

    Mickie commented as they entered the space. The light from outside cast everything in a dim gloom, and the branded man took out his orb lamp to beat back the dark.

    ¡®Yup. I¡¯m beginning to think we should have gone with a top-down approach.¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered, leaning forward on his shoulder to try and peer at what lay ahead. They stepped into a plain room that was almost identical to every other they had come across. The only thing that stood out was a single, unadorned slab of steel protruding from the floor like a table. It was perhaps a couple meters squared in size, and drew in the mortal and his demon like flies to honey.

    ¡®Finally!¡¯

    The little demon on Mickie¡¯s shoulder did a little, shuffling jig. The table might not look like much, but it was the first thing of note they had discovered whilst exploring the tower¡¯s various levels. Mickie approached the metal protrusion, expectation churning in his chest. This might be the key to solving all their problems, getting Kalistra out of that cave and accessing the next circle. He examined the table and soon felt his excitement slipping into frustration.

    ¡®There¡¯s nothing here.¡¯

    As far as he could tell, the slab of steel was nothing more than it appeared. The were no runes lighting its sides, no odd protrusions or buttons. Remembering how he had awakened the tower, Mickie reached out gingerly and touched the metal surface. Nothing happened.

    ¡®By the blood, is this some kind of joke.¡¯

    Miz-Mag was stomping angrily across the tabletop, angrily examining its surface for something, anything, that hinted at its purpose. After a few minutes of huffing about the little demon gave an exasperated scoff and jumped to the floor.

    ¡®Accursed tower. No purpose to the damned thing other than to waste our time.¡¯

    The little demon slouched over to the room¡¯s entrance.

    ¡®You coming? We shouldn¡¯t hang about, especially if Belphegor might be inbound as we speak.¡¯

    Unlike his partner, Mickie was patient. He had been going over every inch of the slab methodically, looking for a hidden switch or message.

    ¡®Hold on, this can¡¯t jest be a normal piece of metal. Let me finish checking over it first.¡¯

    ¡®We have checked it. I damned near stomped on every square inch.¡¯

    Miz-Mag huffed. When Mickie only kept doggedly at his task the little fiend rolled its eyes.

    ¡®If you want to feel the thing up, who am I to stop you? I¡¯m gonna go wait outside.¡¯

    With that his partner stormed out of the small room. Mickie only sighed and continued brushing the table with his fingertips. For a creature that had spent a century trapped at the bottom of hell, Miz-Mag could be surprisingly impatient. It seemed that whenever something inhibited their ability to climb, the little demon got worked up. Mickie did not get it, what did it matter if they took their time? Their binding was not dependent on speed, only the intent to keep going.

    Click

    The sound echoed through the silent room, snapping off Mickie¡¯s train of thought like a dried twig. He had been on autopilot, hands sliding along the side of the slab without much active attention. So, he did not even realise he had located a hidden button until he pressed it. The branded man froze, finger still on the seamless depression in the metal.

    There was a moment in which he thought nothing would happen, before the chamber groaned with the creaking of old machinery. Runes lit up on the table, glowing without any sign of being carved. A string of red symbols Mickie had no chance of deciphering. It began to blink, off and on with the cadence of an alarm. Slowly, the branded man removed his finger from the hidden button. It slotted back into the side of the table without so much as a blemish.

    Mickie was wondering what he should do next when the metal atop the table began to move. It rippled like the surface of a lake, then rose up and began to twist and change like putty shaped by unseen hands. Before his eyes the dark steel began to take the shape of a broad, layered tower. With excitement Mickie realised that it was the very same structure in which he now stood. This was very promising.

    The metal stopped moving once it had formed an impossibly detailed model of the squat building. Mickie circled the table, marvelling at the recreation. He could see miniaturised corridors and staircases through the balcony openings, each with rooms cast in the shadow of his lamp. It was almost perfect, which made the single standout difference impossible to miss.

    When Mickie reached the main entrance, he found no trace of the blood lake. Instead, the archway led into a large space of smooth metal, except for a single spot near the stairs. An odd protrusion spiked slightly out of the table, though Mickie could not tell what it was a this scale. The whole effect reminded the branded man of his observations back at the towers base. That if the blood lake was not there, the entry would make for an impressive foyer.

    As he watched a light started pulsing upon the tiny spike, lighting up the inside of the miniature tower in a red glow. Curious, Mickie leant forward. It seemed that the metal itself was the light¡¯s source. Gingerly, he reached into the miniature archway and poked the illuminated protrusion. Seconds passed, Mickie waiting with bated breath for something to happen. When nothing did he straightened with a sigh. It could never be easy, could it?.

    ¡®What am I missing here?¡¯

    He muttered to himself, probing the various sections of the miniature model. It remained as unyielding as one would expect a solid steel structure to be. Eventually Mickie found himself before the glowing protrusion again. There had to be something about it, a cause for the red glow. He thought back to the way the table had come to life, with red runes flashing in an alert or warning. Mickie frowned at the spike, glowing at the point where the blood lake now boiled in the actual tower. Could it be¡­

    ¡®Kid! By the blood, kid! We gotta run, it¡¯s time to go.¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s shouts drew the branded man away from the model. The little demon flew into the room like there was fire under its feet.

    ¡®Bad news kid. Time too¡­ what have you been up to here?¡¯

    His partner stopped short at the miniature tower now occupying the table.

    ¡®Figuring this thing out. Now, what were you screaming about?¡¯

    ¡®Look at you huh, honorary sleuth and all. Shame it took you too long though, we need to go.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, I heard you on the way in. I¡¯m asking you why?¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s attention bounced from the steel slab to Mickie, eyes wide.

    ¡®Oh right. Yeah. Belphegor¡¯s here.¡¯

 27 â€“ Begin Anew

    Kalistra remembered what it had been like to be sure of herself. With the brighter colours of a pleasant memory, she recalled her younger days amongst the tribe. A prodigy of Transcription, with a mother who taught her the ways of her people. A titan in the young gorgon¡¯s eyes, her mother ventured out into the wilds of the fifth circle to support their people.

    When the hunters had started to go missing, Kalistra had thought there was no chance her mother would be one of them. Sure, others in the tribe might fall, but never her. So, when Illiath had finally made itself known to the gorgons, and presented them with her mother¡¯s head, it had broken something in Kalistra. The balloon of self-certainty burst, leaving her just as broken as every other retch in this accursed realm.

    Afterwards, Kalistra had done what she could, had sacrificed for her people just like her mother. Only, where her mother had found a kind of peace in her sacrifice, it was the abyss that claimed the younger gorgon. There was more than one occasion in the intervening years where Kalistra envied her for that. Where her mother got an end, she had gotten the arena.

    On those accursed sands she had taken up the broken remains of that false assurance and forged it into something truer. Kalistra achieved what few gorgons ever had, the ability to elevate her cursed vision. To turn to stone that which had no eyes. It was a moment that would have been cause for celebration amongst her people. A gorgon achieving an ounce of control over their curse, a step along the path to true freedom. In the arena she was told not to use the power in a fight, it made for poor entertainment.

    Eventually the fights had blurred into a ceaseless grind of blood and death. Each one took another chip from the haggard remains of her soul, leaving her shaper and more deadly, yet lesser for the exchange. Who knew how long she had continued that way, all for the purpose of protecting her people. When the mortal had been set before her, she had thought little of it. They did that sometimes, sacrificed someone weak to wet the crowd¡¯s appetite for blood.

    Only, the mortal had not been weak. He had power of his own, and fought her with a fury that did not speak to an absence of hope. They were both broken, certainly, but here was someone who forged ahead all the same. It had stoked emotions Kalistra thought were long dead, and as they danced to the death, she had remembered her people. Her tribe, coasting along the endless river, hunting the murk of the mangroves, begging her not to go as she made the deal with Illiath. Kalistra had remembered it all, and reawakened a desire to see her home again so visceral it consumed all else.

    So, when that same mortal she had fought, had barely survived fighting, came to offer her freedom, Kalistra had allowed herself to be convinced. She had known the folly of it, that she was condemning her people to death. Yet, ever since the fight she had been unable to stop thinking of her tribe. The dam had burst, and it made enduring the arena that much more difficult. Despite her better judgement, Kallistra had accepted the offer of escape, and now she would have to live with the consequences.

    It had been of her tribe she had thought when she made the deal with Ziz, and it was of them again now she thought as she gazed upon the inverted waterfall. Kalistra had to admit there was an element of excitement to her new binding. Only a gorgon would understand how significant the control it offered her truly was. To her people, a solution to the burden of the stone gaze was more than just a convenience. It was the fulfilment of an ancient purpose.

    Ziz had known that and dangled the offer of control before her. Kalistra had known it was a trap, yet the bait upon had been so enticing that she had taken it all the same. Now, if she could get back to her tribe with this power, they might be able to use it to create a cure for them all. Beside her Mickie and his strange little partner were discussing the chamber. Words that failed to register through the intermingled excitement and fear that warred within her.

    Kalistra could feel the power emanating from the thrumming cord of blood. It resonated deep within her, the new bond between Ziz and herself pulsing in time with the strange heartbeat. She did not know the true significance of this place, only that it was the same kind of ancient as the primordials. Old as Hell itself. Carefully, she withdrew the egg from its holder before returning Mickie¡¯s jacket to him.

    ¡®Stay here. I think¡­ I think what comes next will be dangerous.¡¯

    Her ally seemed unsure at first, but he knew the nature of bindings. This was something Kalistra had to do, and she could see that Mickie understood that. Approaching the inverted waterfall felt like wading downriver in the rapids of the fifth. The power pulled upon her, threatening to sweep her up and pull her in if she lost focus but for a moment.

    In her hands the large egg had grown warm, and she could feel movement from within. Even in its current form Ziz could sense the proximity of the power. The primordial felt the call of the blood just as she did, as she suspected the little demon Miz-Mag did from the circles above. Kalistra felt that the very act of turning away would rip her apart. Ziz¡¯s intent was driving so powerfully towards the blood that their souls would begin to tear if she did not do the same.

    Even so, as Kalistra came to stand atop the pillar of stone in the centre of the small lake, she hesitated. Before her the blood flowed upwards in a pulsing river, moving to some unknown rhythm for some unknown purpose. She knew she had no choice in the matter, it was either do this or die, yet she was rather suddenly unsure of herself.

    One of the core tenants of Transcription was to always act with thought and intention. Runes were workings of the soul, and one must always be certain when carving them. It was a principal she had lived her whole life by, right up until she was thrown into the arena. Perhaps it was the thoughts of home that brought that rule back to her now, staying her hand mere feet from the blood. It was an odd moment to find an old piece of herself, but these things never happened at the right time.

    She straightened, squaring her shoulders and gripping Ziz¡¯s egg tightly. The primordial seemed to have sensed her hesitation and was restlessly shifting about within. Kalistra felt a nostalgic ache for that person she had once been, whole and unbroken. Her principles had been stripped from her, and while it was pleasant to rediscover them, she could not afford to let them govern her actions. If she was going to save her people, she needed to act swiftly with whatever was at hand. Right now, that meant an ancient primordial. Kalistra took a step forward and shoved the egg into the inverted blood flow.

    The first thing she registered was pain. When pushing Ziz into the blood she had gotten some on her, and it burned her scaled arms worse than any flame. Yet that was nothing compared to the agony that next washed over her. The twisted wrenching of a soul in flux was unlike anything Kalistra had experienced before. As an experienced Transcriber, she had an acute awareness of her own soul space. The result was a front row seat to the transformation of her very essence.

    Through the haze of pain, she felt her bond with Ziz growing. The blood flow had sucked away the promordial¡¯s egg, and now power flooded it. Around her the chamber was in turmoil, but Kalistra hardly had the capacity to even notice. She felt as Ziz¡¯s soul bled through into her own, shaping her as she shaped it in turn. Consciousness slipped and for a moment all she could see was a red haze, and all she felt was a desire to be free.

    Then she was back, gasping and twitching on the stone pillar as blood gurgled out steam mere feet away. When had the level of the small lake risen that high? She wondered if Mickie¡¯s was okay. The crimson mist within the room was so thick that Kalistra could hardly see to the walls anymore. Oddly enough though, the heat was far more tolerable than it had been. She even found the taste of iron in the air less nauseating than before.

    Crawling along the ground she approached the metal stairs out, and in doing so confirmed that the exit was entirely submerged. The gorgon sighed and shifted to sit upon the hard stone. It looked like she was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future. A twinge of pain that echoed the ordeal she just went through drew Kalistra¡¯s attention to her brand. Shifting her blood soaked shirt she examined the mark carved above her heart. The single jagged line was now joined by another, a shorter puckered scar slightly askew from the first. If there was any meaning to it, she was unable to decipher it.

    Kalistra settled back to wait. She was exhausted and would be unable to leave the chamber until the level of blood dropped. Mickie and Miz-Mag were not fools, they would have made it out before the blood covered the exits. That just left Ziz. The egg had not returned to the chamber upon the alleviation of her pain, though Kalistra was not worried. Her bond with the primordial had been strengthened, and through it she could sense the creature. Even now it drew from the place of power, growing and gathering strength. She had done as Ziz had asked, now all that remained was for her new partner to reawaken.

    <hr>

    Mickie ran out of the topmost tower chamber, pausing only to grab Miz-Mag and plant the demon unceremoniously on his shoulder. His partner squawked an indignant curse, but Mickie did not have the time to care. He reached the top balcony and cast his attention outwards, expecting to see a swarm of flying machines converging upon them. He was greeted by open air, not a demon in sight.

    ¡®Slow down kid. You need to be quiet.¡¯

    ¡®You said Belphegor was here. I don¡¯t see anything.¡¯

    Miz-Mag winced at the volume of his response.

    ¡®They didn¡¯t come through the air. Look down there.¡¯

    His partner indicated down the side of the tower. Mickie glanced along the tiered layers, his attention landing on the lowest balcony. Figures moved down there, too distant to truly see. He staggered back from the ledge and out of sight before giving Miz-Mag a wide-eyed look of his own.

    ¡®I told you.¡¯

    The demon hissed.

    ¡®They¡¯re here.¡¯

    ¡®How?¡¯

    There should have been some sign of the enforcer¡¯s approach.

    ¡®Looks like they came on foot. Used something to climb the walls rather than go across the lake.¡¯

    Mickie cursed.

    ¡®Did you get a look at their numbers?¡¯

    ¡®My eyes are good kid, but they ain¡¯t that good. At a guess though, I¡¯d say there¡¯s a lot.¡¯

    ¡®No shit.¡¯

    More than the presence of the enforcers, it was their mode of entry that twisted at Mickie¡¯s guts. He had expected an air raid from the city, some form of scouting force to check if they were at the tower. An ambush like this stank of foreknowledge. Somehow, Belphegor had known that they had fled to the tower. Perhaps it had tracked them from Ziz¡¯s prison, then taken the time to assemble its forces in secrecy.

    Mickie leant against a metal wall and tried to breath deep, attempting to rid himself of the rising panic. He was supposed to be the one with surprise on his side. That was how he had made it this far, surprise and momentum. That was how he had lived. Being caught so wrong footed was jarring. He and Mag had failed to properly get at the tower controls, and Kalistra was either trapped or dead. Now the levels between himself and the gorgon were filling with enforcers, all likely on the lookout for them both.

    ¡®Kid, I know it¡¯s bad, but we need to move.¡¯

    Miz-Mag¡¯s voice was uncharacteristically soft.

    ¡®Move where?¡¯

    The question came out as a snarl. He knew what the little demon was going to say, and it lit a fire in his chest.

    ¡®Out of here. We can¡¯t save the gorgon, even if she¡¯s still alive. I think you could survive the drop from the lowest balcony, we could avoid the lake entirely.¡¯

    Abandon his only ally. Let Belphegor scoop up Ziz again. The thoughts did more than just rankle at Mickie¡¯s insides, it downright dowsed them in acid. He wanted to scream in frustration, to storm back into the control room or whatever it was and make the tower obey. Everything had gone to shit so quickly. Too fast for him to realise the situation was slipping through his fingers. Even now he caught a glimpse of a figure below, a shadow on a balcony, soon gone back inside the tower. Mickie flexed his branded hand.

    ¡®No.¡¯

    He ground out. To his surprise, Miz-Mag did not immediately start protesting. The fiend released a long sigh, before patting him gently on the neck.

    ¡®Figures. It¡¯s always the hard way with you kid. What¡¯s the plan then?¡¯

    His partner sounded resigned. Mickie supposed at this point Miz-Mag had learnt better than to try and talk him out of something like this.

    ¡®They may have brought numbers, but that doesn¡¯t mean they know what to expect. Belphegor never learnt the terms of our deal; it doesn¡¯t know we¡¯ve gained power by reaching the seventh circle.¡¯

    ¡®So what? Even that pendant of yours will run dry eventually.¡¯

    ¡®I know, but it gives me some knew options.¡¯

    Mickie called forth his weapon. It almost seemed to hum with pleasure as it appeared, the bone handle vibrating in his palm.

    ¡®We¡¯re going to hit them at speed.¡¯

    ¡®Ah yes, how elaborate.¡¯

    He ignored the sarcasm.

    ¡®Look, you and I have been through the whole tower, we have a better understanding of its layout. I¡¯m going to need you as ears and eyes while I run.¡¯

    Miz-Mag rolled its shoulders.

    ¡®Alright kid. If we¡¯re going to do this, we¡¯d better not die.¡¯

    Mickie turned and started at a jog for the stairs down. He needed to cover some ground before the enforcers worked their way too far upwards. A calm had settled over the branded man following his decision to fight. The ambush might have caught him by surprise, but it had also narrowed the scope of his options. With no time to plan, the only way forward was through, and that realisation had allowed Mickie to clear his head of unwanted thoughts.

    The bonded pair descended the tower at a silent jog, only slowing when the first signs of life rang up through the steel passages. Mickie killed his lamp as he neared the muttering group of enforcers and had Miz-Mag scout ahead. The little fiend reported thirteen. Mickie posted up at a corner of the passage and waited.

    His pulsed thrummed as the group came close. Ten steps away. Five steps. Three. Mickie swung and took the first enforcer¡¯s head clean off. The demon was tall, about a head taller than him. By the time its limp body hit the floor Mickie¡¯s gun was clicking onto the next barrel. He pumped power into the weapon, and it was swiftly replaced by an equal torrent from his pendant.

    As he took out the next demon, a third enforcer cried out in alarm and attempted to bring its own gun to bear. Mickie threw his own weapon at it, nailing the fiend right between the eyes. It staggered as the corridor began to fill with the rest of the scouting team. They piled out of rooms like wasps from a slapped nest. Good.

    The branded man closed on the disoriented enforcer. He grabbed the demon by the head and slammed it against the wall a couple of times. Then, shifting its weapon around, he hugged the creature to himself and emptied its gun into the shouting scouts. They fired back, bullets thudding into the twitching body of Mickie¡¯s makeshift shield.

    When the demon¡¯s gun clicked empty, he let it drop, recalling his own weapon from where it lay on the floor. He drove forward, running towards the remaining enforcers. They were huddled in doorframes, the ones smart enough not to run out into the open at the first shout. Power sang through Mickie as he fell upon them, his soul a conduit between the gun and the pendant. A bullet clipped his shoulder, another his thigh, yet pain was distant, pushed away by the clarity of the violence.

    Mickie broke through the squad and dropped his still twitching shield. Without checking to see if any demons remained alive, he ran. Speed mattered more than anything now. He reached the stairs descending to another level and ran right by them. Miz-Mag cried out in alarm.

    ¡®Kid! What in the nine are you doing?¡¯

    He did not reply, only moved as quickly as he could towards another section of balcony. Behind him shouts went up, echoing from the lower levels. Mickie broke onto the balcony and darted up to its side. Still another four levels between him and the blood lake.

    ¡®Hold on tight Mag.¡¯

    The branded man whispered, and his tiny partner¡¯s response shifted into a shout as he dropped off the side. It was about eight or nine meters to the next balcony, and Mickie landed hard on the steel floor. The impact rattled even through his demonic resistance, shooting pain through his knees and lower back.

    ¡®By the blood kid, give a demon some warning next time.¡¯

    Mickie did not give any warning as he dropped down another level. This time he crumpled with the impact, spikes of pain running up his legs and spine. All he allowed himself was a single small grunt as he landed. Just two more levels to the lake. As Miz-Mag cursed him anew the branded man considered his options.

    Dropping between the levels was by far the best way of getting by the enforcers, yet his protesting body made the prospect unlikely. He could not afford the risk of a broken bone. That left the tower itself. The pyramid structure of the building meant these lower levels were substantially larger than those above. Extra space would make it easier to keep the enforcers on the back foot, but not solve his greatest issue.

    There were two sets of stairs between himself and the lake. Two points at which he had no doubt Belphegor would establish bottlenecks. Even if he hit them at speed, they could still slow him down enough to let others close. Trapped inside the building Mickie would be swarmed and overrun.

    ¡®Reports say he¡¯s up a level.¡¯

    ¡®Shit on your accursed reports, I heard something.¡¯

    The voices rang out from a nearby passage, informing Mickie it was time to get moving again. He rose and moved to the arched entry way as an idea came to him. The first enforces gun barrel preceded it onto the balcony. Mickie grabbed the weapon with one hand and yanked the demon into the open. There was shout from the passage, but he was already moving. Even as the enforcer struggled, he dragged it to the balcony¡¯s edge and tipped over the side.

    Demon first, Mickie fell onto another level of hard steel. His demon cushion hit hard, head cracking against the unforgiving floor. Mickie crashed into it; his own landing softened but nowhere near enough to be comfortable. The breath was squashed from his lungs as his legs slapped painfully against the ground.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Miz-Mag was bounced right off its perch, rolling a couple of feet to lay in a groggy daze. They could not afford the time to rest, however. A crack sounded from above and something drove painfully into Mickie¡¯s back. His jacket held but the bullet broke a couple of ribs, just wide of his spine.

    Gasping for air the branded man scooped up his partner and staggered into a nearby passageway as gunfire peppered around him. One more level, just one more level and he would be at the lake. Surely the blood in that chamber had receded. Kalistra would be free, she could assist him in making it the rest of the way out.

    Miz-Mag seemed unharmed for the most part, just a touch disoriented. Mickie stuffed the little demon into a jacket pocket as he half stumbled, half ran down the passage. Almost there, he was almost there. In the confusion of his descent the branded man realised he was unsure of his current position. All the halls in the tower were eerily similar, and only when Mickie stumbled upon an opening onto a catwalk, did he get a hint of where he was.

    The only problem was that a squad of enforcers was there as well. Mickie turned the corner and was presented with the thick air of the tower¡¯s central chamber. A metal bridge connected two parts of his current level, the catwalk forming a strand of the messy web above the lake. The enforcers were most of the way through the crossing, faces twisted in discomfort at the hot air.

    The slip in discipline meant they took a fatally long time to notice him. Just as the first demon was opening its mouth to shout, Mickie fired into the group. His shot dropped the leading few demons, not killing them at his current range but still removing them from the fight. The others in the team crashed into those ahead, causing a miniature pileup.

    A demon screamed as it slipped and tumbled end over end into the boiling blood. Mickie fired another two times in rapid bursts before turning and running. The encounter with the enforcers might have been a stroke of bad luck, but it was paired with the first bit of good news he had received since arriving in this damned tower. Through the opening into the inner chamber, Mickie had spotted the final staircase to the lake, and there was not a single enforcer guarding it.

    The branded man stumble ran down the corridor, his stride lengthening as his body repaired itself. It must have been the first group he encountered. That fight had distracted Belphegor¡¯s squads, lured them into leaving a seemingly useless staircase unguarded. After all, he would need to cross the blood lake if he was to exit that way. A risky proposition even without all the guards firing at him.

    Mickie weaved around the circumference of the central chamber, hardly pausing to check if a turn was good before taking. At one point he saw another squad down a separate intersection, but did not slow to engage them. All the group received was a single blast from his gun, hopefully enough to drive them into cover and let him gather some distance.

    Shouts began to ring out through the corridors as word spread of his position. The enforcers were closing in, he needed to find Kalistra and get out of the tower before they had him pinned. Mickie reached the stairs with a palpable sense of relief, hardly slowing as he turned to run down them. He was so focused, in fact, that he failed to glance down an adjacent corridor.

    The only sign that there was something lying in wait was a large blur out of the corner of his eyes. A massive figure boiled out of the unchecked passage and drove into Mickie¡¯s side. He was suddenly airborne, sailing over the very same stairs he had just intended to descend. Gravity soon took up its inexorable hold and the branded man came crashing down on the midpoint of the staircase.

    His body flopped and head slammed into a step as he tumbled down to bottom level. Mickie¡¯s vision strobed as lights shifted and swam before him. The was something wrong with his right arm, it was uncomfortable, painfully so. He tried to move, to crawl away from the stairs. The closest he got was a half-hearted flop across the metal floor.

    The stars in his eyes resolved into a deep pounding in the side of his head, and Mickie¡¯s vision was impeded anew by blood. The must be a gash on the side of his head, where he had hit the stairs. Something large and heavy was following him down at a much safer pace. Thudding footsteps that soon brought a set of giant steel legs into view.

    Mickie tried to slide backward, but the attempt to move his right arm was met with a spike of pain. He glanced at the limb and found it twisted the wrong way. The branded man turned to keep his arm off the ground as he scrambled backwards. Blood still ran down his face, but his head was already clearing, fog lifting enough for Mickie to realise just how screwed he was.

    The giant machine he had last seen within the collapsing pillar approached. It¡¯s thick legs were almost too large for the stairs, and as a result the robot was taking its time. As Mickie struggled back to his feet, he noticed more than just the hand he had shot was damaged. Steel plates along its body were warped, battered, and entirely missing in places. The giant might have survived the fall beneath the pillar, but it had paid a price to do so.

    Mickie attempted to call his weapon and gasped as it appeared in his broken right arm. The gun thudded to the floor, and he scrambled to pick it up with his other hand as the machine drew closer. He needed to run, maybe put a shot into the big guy and disappear down one of the two side passages. Kalistra was down the one to the left, but he could not tell if the lower level was still flooded from here.

    The branded man made to dart sideways but stopped short as someone stepped out of the shadowed passage. They were tall, well dressed in a suit of strange scaly leather and grinning with a smile devoid of all humour. Blood red hands came together in a slow clap.

    ¡®Ah, it is good to see you have not gone to rust during our time apart.¡¯

    Belphegor said, and chuckled. There was a hint more ice to smooth baritone than before, but Mickie hardly noticed. He was back in the dark under the arena, listening to this accursed demon talk as pain warbled through his body. Mickie could not stop himself, he took a fearful step away from his old captor. Belphegor¡¯s smile grew a touch more genuine at the reaction.

    ¡®Still as talkative as ever I see, though judging by your reaction you have not forgotten me. Tell me then, my little enigma, did you think I would not feel the power beneath our feet? That I would not know to expect you?¡¯

    Desperation gripped Mickie¡¯s heart in a vice. He could not go back to the arena, not again. The branded man glanced about, searching for somewhere that he could run to. While Belphegor held his attention the giant machine had finished its descent. It now stood partway between the path to the second passage and the staircase. If Mickie wanted to flee, he would need to slow the machine first.

    ¡®Planning to run? After you came all the way down here? And to think I was looking forward to a nice catch-up.¡¯

    Something shifted against Mickie¡¯s side, and Miz-Mag poked its bleary head out of his pocket.

    ¡®Hey kid, that was some tumble you took, who¡¯s that I hear talkin¡­¡¯

    The tiny fiend trailed off as it took in the frantic look in Mickie¡¯s eyes. Slowly, his partner turned and noticed the two enemies that had cornered them.

    ¡®Oh boy, oh no. Kid run, run now.¡¯

    Surprisingly, the reminder of Miz-Mag¡¯s presence helped calm Mickie. The familiar squeak of his little partners voice drew the branded man back to himself. He was not Belphegor¡¯s prisoner, and no matter what else came, he never would be again. Near the staircase the metal giant abruptly made a sound that it took Mickie a moment to process as words.

    ¡®It is present.¡¯

    The sound was like a cement mixer churning metal shrapnel, grinding and piercing all in one. When one of its undamaged arms raised to point at Miz-Mag, Belphegor¡¯s attention sharpened.

    ¡®Is it now? How very curious.¡¯

    The old lord stared at Mickie¡¯s jacket like it had just insulted the demon¡¯s mother. Miz-Mag shrank back, as if to hide from Belphegor¡¯s sight.

    ¡®I always wondered how you managed your little escape. To think you had help this whole time.¡¯

    The demon stroked its goatee and took a slow step forward. Mickie glared and prepared to run.

    ¡®Help escaping the spire. Help fleeing the city. Help taking what was mine from me.¡¯

    Each sentence was punctuated by another step forward, and a twisting in the demon¡¯s tone. Belphegor¡¯s anger slipped into its voice, and each word seemed to press upon the wounded mortal.

    ¡®Kid¡­¡¯

    He ignored Miz-Mag¡¯s whine. They would only have one chance to slip away, and he could not afford to screw it up.

    ¡®I tried to go easy on you, to talk things out as friends should. But, my dear enigma, you have spat upon my goodwill one too many times.¡¯

    The demon reached into the pocket of its jacket, attention slipping away for the briefest of moments. Mickie ran. He darted towards the large machine, prepared to make for the side passage. The giant noticed his approach and reacted. It raised an arm and reached for him, clawed hand unfurling. Then, for some reason, it hesitated. The machine paused, halfway through blocking Mickie¡¯s path. The branded man was not going to question the move, it was just what he needed to slip by.

    ¡®You seem tired.¡¯

    Just out of view, Belphegor spoke, and the words caught Mickie¡¯s soul in a vice. He felt the weight of them, almost physical. A force that seemed to ratchet up the air pressure inside the tower. The branded man stumbled, tried to shake off the force of Belphegor¡¯s will. His soul pulsed with effort, expanded, and was crushed by the intent of the old lord.

    Mickie fell to his knees, more exhausted than he had ever felt in his life. His bones were denser than lead, eyelids dragged down by invisible anchors. Somewhere, behind the tired haze, a part of him wailed in anger and fear. Yet, he did not have the energy to listen. Just staying awake was hard enough. Someone chuckled nearby, and Mickie rolled his head up to see Belphegor striding his way.

    ¡®You almost pushed through. I¡¯m impressed.¡¯

    Blinking slowly, Mickie attempted to get his brain to work. If only he could have a moment to rest.

    ¡®Kid, what are you doing? Snap out of it.¡¯

    Something jabbed painfully into his side, and Mickie groaned, attempting swat at whatever had caused it. Only, he used his broken arm to swing, which hurt far more than any jab. The pain coursed through him, scratching away the lethargy with bloody claws. He felt a distant urgency now at Belphegor¡¯s approach. The old demon had a strange looking blade held loosely in one hand; a weapon coated in glowing runes.

    ¡®I would have liked to have worked with you. However, the time for leniency has passed. I will know the nature of your deal and what you did with Ziz, even if I must rip it from your memories myself.¡¯

    The ache of his arm was shaking off that unnatural fatigue at an increasing pace, but it would not be fast enough. Belphegor was closing upon him and seemed intent on using the strange knife. Mickie tried to move, but even lifting his hand from the floor took a gargantuan effort. It almost felt as if the tower were vibrating, a susurration to lull him to sleep.

    Belphegor took a slow step forward, blade poised, then paused. The building shuddered around them with the sound of creaking steel. The steady vibration Mickie had been feeling intensified, became a rumble, then a roar. Above their heads came the shouting of enforcers, those out on the catwalks crisscrossing the large chamber.

    Mickie risked a momentary glance away from Belphegor to find that the blood lake was not just boiling, it was downright churning. Steam poured off the crimson liquid in a viscous cloud, creating an expanding field of fog. Even as Mickie watched it rolled out towards him in a wave, engulfing the lower levels of the tower. Focusing back upon Belphegor, the branded man found his old captor had lowered the rune carved knife. It looked at Mickie now with a kind irritated fondness.

    ¡®My dear enigma, I would ask what you have done here, but I know you will not answer. That is fine. I have however, realised I might have been a touch too enthusiastic.¡¯

    The demon turned to the giant machine, now a hazy outline in the bloody fog.

    ¡®Take him. I shall pull his memories when the circumstances are not so¡­ extreme.¡¯

    The rumbling was intensifying, Mickie could feel it running up his body, shifting his broken arm painfully. As the giant machine approached, he finally shook free enough of the fatigue to stand. Legs shaking with both effort and the quaking of the tower, the branded man took an unsteady step away from the metal giant.

    ¡®Impressive that you managed to free yourself so quickly. I am excited to find out how.¡¯

    Belphegor commented, sliding the dagger back into a fold of its scaly jacket. The machine was only a couple of meters away now, and to Mickie¡¯s eyes, it appeared to be struggling. There was something beyond simple hesitation now in its jerky movements. It was as if the robot had two contradictory objectives, and both were fighting for control. A metal leg lifted, then fell short, an arm reached for him, then twitched away.

    ¡®Kid something¡¯s wrong with it. Run away, quick.¡¯

    Miz-Mag sounded on the verge of hysterics, jerking at Mickie¡¯s jacket like a rider at a horse¡¯s reins. Except Mickie could not run, he could barely stand between the exhaustion and unsteady footing.

    ¡®What is wrong with you. Hurry up and grab him.¡¯

    Belphegor seemed to have taken note of its metal servant¡¯s hesitation. The old lord barked out more commands to the machine, which appeared to only make its twitchy movements worse. With a sigh the Belphegor turned back to Mickie.

    ¡®Well, if you want something done right.¡¯

    At that moment the ground bucked, a single upwards lift that had Mickie tipping backwards to the floor. And he was not the only one to fall either. Above their heads came a series of screams followed by splashes as enforcers fell from catwalks. The sound was followed by a massive gurgling burst of blood. Liquid that was hot and terribly painful sprayed across Mickie¡¯s face, ripping his attention back to the lake.

    Something had risen from the crimson depths. A shadow in the fog that shot upwards into the air. Confused shouts came from the enforcers on the catwalks, but they cries were drowned out by a shrieking squawk. Through the red fog Mickie could not see what was happening, but he could hear the violence underway. Gunfire and screams, more splashes as demons fell from catwalks.

    ¡®There you are.¡¯

    Belphegor spoke softly, as if to an angry pet. Mickie turned the old demon¡¯s way and found it fixated on the fog overhead, as if it could see what had emerged from the lake. Finding that the shaking of the earth had lessened, Mickie took the chance to take a few steps back. He came up the edge of a staircase, the one leading down into the lake. There was nowhere else to go.

    Above him the screeching sounded closer than before, and the enforcers were attempting to coordinate their attacks. Belphegor was still distracted by the commotion while the metal giant continued to stutter and twitch. Abruptly, the old lord shifted its attention back to Mickie.

    ¡®Well, that answers one of my most pressing questions. Sorry for the delay, dearest enigma, events are ever distracting.¡¯

    The demon took a step forward, and Mickie took a corresponding step backwards, onto the stairs.

    ¡®Kid do something!¡¯

    Miz-Mag cried, but Mickie had no tricks left to pull. Belphegor was not Illiath, not a demon against which he could fight. A mere few feet away the lake gurgled and bubbled, representing an option just as bad as Belphegor.

    ¡®What¡¯s this? Are you going to go for a swim?¡¯

    His old captor chuckled as it reached the top of the stairs, but the expression fell when another screech echoed through the fog, coming from incredibly close by. Something slammed into Mickie¡¯s shoulders side on, and he was suddenly falling towards the lake. Blood rose to meet him, then rather suddenly, began to fall away.

    Belphegor roared and lunged as Mickie was pulled into the fog, dragged upwards. He was not falling, but flying. The lord of sloth might have been swifter than its title indicated, but still failed to reach him in time. The branded man shot out over the open lake, something grasping him painfully by both shoulders. Hot air whipped by, and gunfire rang out from the catwalks above, bullets leaving twirling tracers in the fog.

    Then they were out, shooting through the large archway and into the desert light. Mickie ascended out of the fog and found himself flying above the spiky bone woods. Miz-Mag shouted something, but he could not hear it over the wind roar in his ears. The branded man glanced up and made out the distinct silhouette of a bird, shadowed against the cavern light above.

    It was Ziz, born anew from the power of that strange, inverted blood waterfall. With a roar the primordial announced the beginning of its newest cycle, even as it carried Mickie further from its bonded partner.

    <hr>

    They flew for what felt like an age over the desert. Eventually the dead ground of the bone wood gave out to cresting sand dunes. Mickie craned his neck to check for pursuers, but it looked as if Belphegor had been too slow in its response. In fact, there was a good chance the enforcers had not brought any flying machines with them to the tower. They had entered through stealth over the sides after all.

    Claws tightened painfully on his shoulders, and Mickie glanced up at the shadowed outline of Ziz as it released a powerful squawk. He had no idea where the newly hatched primordial was taking him, though the creature seemed to have an idea of its heading. Ziz finally started its descent when a new smudge appeared in the distance. It was too indistinct for Mickie to make out, but looked to be the sandy colour of the rocky pillars and cavern ceiling.

    Having been some distance up in the air, the speed at which they had been moving was only noticeable by the whipping of wind and gentle roll of dunes below. As Ziz brought him closer to the sand however, Mickie became rather suddenly aware of their velocity. The primordial had done little to bleed off speed on the way down.

    ¡®Kid! Ask it to slow down a touch, would you?¡¯

    Miz-Mag had to screech very loudly to be heard over the roar of the air. It was a mark of the little demon¡¯s sudden nervousness that it managed to be heard at all. Mickie tilted his head back to shout up, but the words morphed into a cry of alarm as Ziz abruptly released him. There was a moment of weightless momentum, in which he continued forward while gravity took its hold. Then Mickie¡¯s legs clipped the peak of a dune. In a shower of sand, he flipped forward, tumbling down the sandy slope. A poor landing on his right arm reminded him that he had broken it only recently. His demonic healing might be good, but it was not instantaneous.

    After what felt like an age of twisting and spinning the branded man reached the base of the dune and came to a stop. He groaned through a mouthful of sand, busted arm wailing anew. Rising slowly, Mickie pulled open a jacket pocket to check on his diminutive partner. Miz-Mag was curled up and woozy, half buried in a pile of sand. Carefully, he pulled the little guy free and set it upon his shoulder.

    A nearby squawk drew his attention. Ziz had performed a long circle, and was now coming right at them between the dunes. The young primordial hit the sand at a pace slower than their own, yet seemed unable to stick the landing. It tumbled to a halt with an indignant screech, only seven or eight paces from where Mickie stood.

    ¡®Serves the damned chicken right.¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered blearily from its perch. Battered and bruised as he was, Mickie was inclined to agree. Ziz stood slowly, providing the mortal with his first clear look at the primordial¡¯s new incarnation. It was far more birdlike than the giant that had been locked away beneath the seventh circle. Bronze feathers coated its body and flared off a long tail. A serpentine neck held a beaked head that now blinked a bleary eye of burnished gold at them.

    Ziz made a low, chuffing noise and shook the sand from itself, stretching massive wings as it did. Mickie noted the appendages seemed strangely flexible, with claws emerging at an elbow joint. The overall effect was that of an oversized, prehistoric ostrich. Though one capable of flight.

    ¡®Can you understand us?¡¯

    Mickie asked, and the avian¡¯s head tilted at the sound. Ziz chirruped in response, and the branded man felt something odd, as if the air around them shivered.

    ¡®I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡¯

    He sighed, and pushed back the borderline panic threatening to swamp him. The flight from the tower had given him time to think, though the conclusions he was reaching were grim.

    ¡®Is Kalistra okay? Did she get out?¡¯

    Ziz huffed and again the air shivered. After a moment it puffed up its feathers and shook its long neck side to side.

    ¡®No? She¡¯s not alright? Then why did you fly us so far away? We need to get her out!¡¯

    Belphegor had been waiting at the entrance and indicated to Mickie it felt something beneath the tower. The branded man did not know what kind of state Kalistra would be in when she emerged, but whatever her condition, he doubted she could take on the old lord and his army. The panic, which Mickie had meant to keep under lock and key, bled forth in a stomach twisting wave.

    ¡®Kid, we can¡¯t go back.¡¯

    Miz-Mag spoke softly, trying to sound reasonable.

    ¡®So, we just leave our friend?¡¯

    He hissed. Belphegor was going to want to contain Ziz, and Kalistra would represent a way for it to do so. Once the demon discovered his allies binding, it would do everything in its power to hold her.

    ¡®You almost died getting out kid. Do you think Belphegor didn¡¯t notice Kali wasn¡¯t with us? That it won¡¯t be keeping an eye out in case we come back?¡¯

    Ziz approached the arguing pair, silent and with head poised, listening. Mickie noted the large avian¡¯s approach and turned to face it.

    ¡®And you? The hell were you thinking, taking us so far away? Kalistra is bound to you, if she gets caught, then you¡¯re in for it as well.¡¯

    The primordial said nothing, coming close to him. Mickie¡¯s panic began to twist into anger.

    ¡®Take us back. Do it now.¡¯

    ¡®Kid¡­¡¯

    Miz-Mag began, but was cut off as its partner stumbled backwards. Ziz had headbutted Mickie¡¯s chest, not hard, but with such speed he had no time to react. As the branded man righted himself, he came face to face with a large eye of burnished gold. The primordial made a long, low sound and the desert vibrated about them, with more intensity than it had before.

    ¡®You¡­¡¯

    The voice was soft and high, like that of a child. It echoed from the very air around them, which shuddered and warbled with something akin to static. Mickie froze, mouth half open to ask what the damned bird was doing. Ziz remained focused on him, with an intensity the branded man realised was concentration.

    ¡®You¡­ not return¡­ I return.¡¯

    ¡®What? Why not me? You can¡¯t help Kalistra alone.¡¯

    Ziz seemed to struggle with a response to that. Whatever arcane art it used to speak slipped, and it took a moment for the primordial to regain its hold.

    ¡®You help¡­ I help¡­ different.¡¯

    On his shoulder, Miz-Mag seemed to have recovered itself.

    ¡®Different how? Come on, make sense big guy.¡¯

    The head tilted towards Mickie¡¯s partner. A gust of hot breath nearly sent Miz-Mag tumbling from its perch.

    ¡®You get¡­¡¯

    There was a pause as Ziz searched for the right word.

    ¡®Friend. Get friend, help.¡¯

    ¡®Friends, what do you¡­¡¯

    Mickie trailed off as it occurred to them.

    ¡®The Kindle Kin.¡¯

    He remembered what he had seen just before landing, the rocky shape in the distance. What was it Ziz¡¯s previous incarnation had said? To look for the ruins at the broken plateau. Ziz gave an abrupt, affirming squawk that caused Miz-Mag to jump.

    ¡®Kin¡­ yes.¡¯

    The primordial lifted its long neck and turned, facing the direction in which they had been flying.

    ¡®You go. I go.¡¯

    Then, to his surprise, the oversized dino-ostrich lowered its head and gave him another bump on the chest. Only this time it stayed pressed to him. Mickie was suddenly very aware, that just a couple hours ago this creature had been an egg. Hesitantly, he raised a hand to the large head and ran fingers through bronze feathers. Ziz gave a warbling chirrup and nuzzled against him.

    In his head, Mickie had been lumping this creature in with the chained giant that preceded it. After all, were they both not Ziz? He could not however, imagine that old monster getting up close and personal with something it considered to be an abomination. No, this avian was distinctly removed from its predecessor, both in appearance and temperament.

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry buddy, we¡¯ll sort it out.¡¯

    Ziz raised its head to peer at him.

    ¡®Yes. You go, get Kin.¡¯

    ¡®And what will you do big bird?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked, then shrank back as the primordial glance its way and made a distinctly hungry sound.

    ¡®Yummy one. I go.¡¯

    ¡®Yummy one? Kid, you hear that?¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s partner squeaked and scuttled behind his ear. The branded man scratched Ziz on the neck.

    ¡®Mag isn¡¯t for eating buddy.¡¯

    He released a slow breath. The newly hatched primordial¡¯s clear anxiety helped him master his own. Simply rushing back to the tower would help no one. If they were going to help Kalistra and secure an exit from the circle, then they were going to need help.

    ¡®Alright. We¡¯ll go get the Kindle Kin. I¡¯m not sure what your plan is, but make sure you¡¯re careful alright. Belphegor is going to be gunning hard for you.¡¯

    Ziz rumbled low into his palm, then straightened back up. Seemingly satisfied that the two of them were going to do as they were told, the young primordial set off. It ran along the sand with a uncoordinated gate, wings struggling to flap in the narrow space between dunes. After a couple false starts the avian was airborne, heaving itself up and into the open cavern.

    ¡®By the blood, I¡¯m surprised we survived the trip out here. That bird is shakier than a slime demon in a blender.¡¯

    Mickie sighed.

    ¡®Yeah, hopefully it¡¯s good enough to not get caught until we get back.¡¯

    He shifted his attention to the dunes. Unable even to see their distant goal from his current position. Ziz better have thought its actions through, because this was going to take a while.

 28 â€“ The Broken Plateau

    While crossing the expansive desert, Mickie alternatively blamed himself for listening to Ziz and cursed the newborn primordial for ditching him in the middle of nowhere. Trudging up the steep slope of a dune, he could just make out the plateau as a distant rectangular blur. Miz-Mag had long since disappeared, so there was no one around to hear the long sigh he gave before descending the sandy incline. Which was why he found it strange, when the desert itself gave a sigh in response.

    Mickie paused, tilting his head to the side at the sound. It was deep, yet distant, rattling through the confines of the cavern. He had heard something similar before, just after starting this trek. They had thought it was the roar of flying machines and fled accordingly. That sound had eventually vanished, leaving the branded man and his demonic partner wary but alone. After a surreptitious glance around uncovered nothing but desert, Mickie figured that might be the case this time too.

    Only, as he trekked onwards, the sound did not disappear. Instead, as he grew closer to the plateau, the distant sigh in the wind gained definition. It shifted from a murmur to music, a strange rhythm that seemed to want something from him. The song of the Kindle Kin came to him like an old friend, familiar yet different in ways that were highlighted by contrast. As he tried to unravel the sound, Mickie¡¯s steps became steadier, and his pace through the desert improved.

    The branded man entered something akin to a trance, and as a result it took him far longer than it should have to notice the change in the air. It was only when he crested a small dune, and a sudden gust almost blew him over that he paused. The winds on the seventh were strong, but had never been powerful enough to knock him about. Now that he was looking for it, a rather large amount of sand was dancing along the dunes ahead. That gust had not been an isolated case.

    A heavy seed of suspicion planted itself in Mickie¡¯s gut, and he started up one of the nearby dunes to get a decent vantage. The broken plateau was close enough now that he could make out the general shape of the stone structure. It was as if someone had taken one of the pillars dotted about the seventh and cut it cleanly off partway up. A tapered platform of stone awaited ahead, unmarked but for a darkened line bisecting it. He could not see any ruins, but even still, it was good to confirm. That was definitely the broken plateau.

    Remembering his true purpose for climbing the dune, the branded man scanned the stony horizon. When he found what he was looking for the suspicious seed blossomed into outright dread. Off to one side, distant but most certainly visible, was a roiling mass of deep crimson. It covered a good portion of cavern in that direction, crawling closer with each passing moment. A blood storm. Kalistra had said they were rare, and Mickie did not doubt her. The only problem was that they had spent far longer than intended on the sands. As rare as a storm might be, one was bound to eventually shown up.

    Unwilling to waste any more time than he already had, the mortal darted down the dune towards the nearby plateau. The crack through the giant rock would provide ample protection from the coming storm, if he could only make it there in time.

    As Mickie neared his goal he began to discern other colours within the widening gap of stone. Whites that twisted and stretched, jagged like the branches of the bone wood trees. Beneath that, at the base of the plateau, was a squat structure of dark steel. A building of some kind. He recalled Miz-Mag mentioning that the Sovereign¡¯s forces knew there was something out here. Hopefully they had not received word of his approach.

    As the storm neared, the wind became increasingly fierce, hot air buffeting Mickie and whipping the sand into stinging streams. Ziz was a creature of the skies, surely it could have sense if something as intense as this storm was coming. If it did, and still ditched Mickie so far from his goal, then he and the big bird were going to have words when this was over.

    Glancing back, his vision was filled with the swirling greys and reds of the blood storm. A heaving wall of crimson cloud expanded from floor to ceiling, filling the cavern like the breath of an angry god. Occasional flashes of lightning within the furious mass flared red light across dune and stone. What struck Mickie however, more than the sight of the blood storm, was the noise it produced. Like a living creature the boiling clouds roared. A constant, ear aching sound that was punctuated by irregular claps of thunder. The sound was such that he found it increasingly difficult to think, difficult to see himself as anything more than an ant facing the titanic wash of a flamethrower.

    Wrenching himself away from the looming storm, Mickie cast his attention back to his destination. He was so very close now. The plateau towered above him, a sight that felt underwhelming when compared to the storm on his heels. Just a little bit further and he would make it. Mickie could get to the squat building and shelter there. Whatever awaited him inside had to be better than the beast at his heels. The branded man threw caution to roaring wind and sprinted for safety. He was almost there, could see a door outlined in the grey steel. It was just then, when relief began to run calming fingers down his spine, that the storm swallowed him whole.

    <hr>

    Traxidill should have been above guard duty. As a key member of the scouting and reconnaissance division under sub-commander Lizalphus, it had far more important duties to attend to. It had been sometime since the pillar in the central city fell, taking all communication from the army with it. Rumours abounded throughout their little encampment about what had occurred. A communication from the sub-commander had been the last they had heard from the central pillar. It had mentioned Belphegor¡¯s forces were encroaching upon the city, and as such there would be a delay to Lizalphus¡¯ return.

    Then the stone path through the circles had fallen, an event so titanic that it shook the sands even at their distant position. The aftermath of that was a blanket silence from the main force and an incompetent second in command fumbling its way towards inaction. Traxidill huffed and shifted a bit further away from the door to their shelter. It might not be able to see the blood storm through the thick barrier of steel, but it could certainly hear the accursed thing. Wind howled and rattled the building, scraping at every nook and cranny like a hungry beast.

    It was unnerving to say the least, and every moment spent within the deafening roar only served to compound Traxidill¡¯s darkening mood. There was no purpose to guarding the door at this moment, not with the storm scouring the dunes beyond. This was a punishment detail, assigned to Traxidill because it had the gall to suggest they act.

    The second was a fool, and more than that, a coward. Hunkering by the communicator like it would suddenly come to life. If they were going to hear from those in the city, then they would have already. Action was required. They needed to take charge of the situation, establish control over what remained of the forces within the seventh. Traxidill was certain Asmodeus would reward them for it.

    A sudden sound had the demon jumping out of its thoughts. A loud crash, coming right from the sealed door their safe house. Glancing towards the thick barrier, Traxidill thought that the metal was warped slightly, right at the point where the latch met the frame. The second explosive sound had the guard taking a few unintentionally steps backwards. It fumbled clumsily for its dangling rifle, shouldering the weapon and pointing towards a now visible gap in the steel. Blood spat and steamed through the small sliver, filling the air with a red mist as the storm howled like a wolf with a scent.

    ¡®W-who goes there. Make yourself known.¡¯

    Traxidill meant for the words to sound authoritative and intimidating, but managed little more than a nervous squeak. The only response it received was the roar of the wind. There was a moment in which the guard hesitated, teetering between running to raise the alarm and holding its ground. Before it could make a decision, there was another explosive boom. The latch across the door sheared off, and with a victorious roar the blood storm swept into the building.

    Droplets of fire sprayed across the demon guard¡¯s body, striking its exposed arms and face. Traxidill screamed in pain and fired blindly into the shrieking blood. Another spray of superheated crimson took the fiend in one of its eyes. The agony of it was beyond anything Traxidill could even believe possible. With hardly a second thought the demon ceased firing and stumbled away from the storm¡¯s torturous grasp. It gasped for breath between ragged sobs, burning its hands as it desperately wiped steaming blood from its eye.

    Traxidill could only see out of the other now, and through a film of tears the guard noticed a shadow fall across the red glow from the storm. Blinking its vision clear the demon glanced up, and came face to face with a snarling wolf. Ruby eyes glinted above a yawning abyss of a mouth. The realisation that this was some form a weapon came slowly, dawning as Troxidill¡¯s working eye traced up a sleek barrel to land upon the gun¡¯s wielder. Covered in blood, crimson but for the whites of its eyes. It was a monster birthed from the storm to hunt those that would defy its grasp.

    ¡®I¡­ I¡­¡¯

    The demon tried to speak, tried to beg, but was cut off as the wolf roared forth flame and force.

    <hr>

    Sense returned slowly as Mickie stood gasping in the metal hallway. Behind him the storm raged at his escape, blasting bloody wind into the building. The branded man had almost lost himself in that violent sea of burning mist. Between the pain and lacking visibility, it was bordering on a miracle that he had stumbled upon the building at all.

    The blood of the storm had been potent, though not to the extent of that within the boiling lake. With the added protection of his clothing, Mickie had just managed to hold onto sense for long enough to locate a door into the facility. Casting a glance at the dead guard, he turned towards the building itself. It was a plain thing of stark walls and glaring fluorescent lights. That was good, it would mean less places in which the demons could hide.

    Taking off at a run, Mickie had hardly rounded a corner before stumbling into a squad. There was five of them, likely sent to investigate all the noise he had just made. The two leading the group had weapons held at the ready, and as such were the first to go. Mickie shot one as five sets of eyes widened upon seeing him.

    Power flooded through him from the amulet over his chest and the barrel on his gun spun over in moments. The second demon went down just as it was firing off a shot. The bullet slammed into Mickie¡¯s protected ribs, and he felt bone crack. The pain that blossomed as a result was nothing compared to the fury of the blood storm, failing to even slow his charge.

    The remainder of the group were fumbling for their weapons and raising the alarm. That was fine. Having more of them come to him would make things faster. Mickie darted forward, grabbing the barrel of a gun as it swung up and slamming the demon behind it hard into a wall. It was time to get to work.

    Ten, twenty, almost thirty fiends fell as the branded man carved his way through the metal facility. The storm outside raged all the while, drowning the shouts of the Sovereign¡¯s forces in its roar. By the time he was done Mickie¡¯s own blood had mixed in with the dried coating from the storm. His body ached from a plethora of bruises, though nothing was substantial enough to be debilitating.

    Having combed every room and chamber, from a large hangar to a cramped set of bunks, all that remained was a single, locked door. Beyond it, Mickie could hear the frantic rambling of a voice, able to make out the cadence but not the words. That likely meant at least two demons then, one of which he was going to want alive. At no point during his violent crusade had Mickie come across something he would judge to be a leader. He wanted to question someone about the Kindle Kin, and the head of this base seemed like the best bet.

    Stepping to one side of the door, the branded man readied his weapon. It seemed that he had finally stumbled upon the limits of what his new amulet could offer. The power it pushed into him had grown sluggish, no longer able to keep up with his rate of expenditure. It was a good thing then, that he was just about done with the base¡¯s demons. Dipping into the dwindling remains of his power, Mickie charged his gun. There was a gold flash partnered with a sharp roar, and the final room in the facility was suddenly accessible.

    He expected some form of retaliation for the forced entry, and as such was out of any lines of fire. Yet there came no shouting or crack of gunfire from within the room. Whoever had been talking in there, they were silent now. Cautiously Mickie glanced through the door and locked eyes with the room¡¯s single, speechless occupant. A chimeric cross with the head of a zebra and body of a panda bear, it certainly fell on the odder side of demons he had encountered.

    The creature gave a startled bray and almost toppled from its chair as Mickie walked into the room. In one hand it held the microphone of something that resembled a large radio. A twisting cable connected to a bulky machine on the desk. He was not really sure how these things worked in Hell, but Mickie doubted there would have been much reception in the storm.

    ¡®The creature has breached the command. I repeat, the creature has breached the command.¡¯

    Instead of attempting to flee or fight, the demon abruptly started shouting down the line of its radio. The act was so nonsensical that Mickie hesitated, unsure of what was happening.

    ¡®Backup is required, please acknowledge receipt of this communication.¡¯

    The chimera finished its attempted transmission and the room fell silent. Mickie glanced between the demon and the bulky radio on its desk, waiting to hear a response. If there was someone else on the way, then he needed to know about it. All the machine emitted was static. As he had thought, the storm was likely blocking communications. Then again, did this fiend even have anyone to talk to? Belphegor had already more or less wiped the floor with the Sovereign¡¯s forces.

    A telltale thud from Mickie¡¯s gun indicated the weapon had finished reloading. As such, when the chimera made to perform another transmission, the branded man put a blast into the body of the radio. Machinery and metal exploded outwards, and the demon gave an equine wail. Mickie dismissed his weapon and strolled forward. With one hand, he gripped the side of the table and heaved it over, clearing a path to the trembling chimera.

    Common sense finally seemed to seep into the demon, and it fumbled for a holstered weapon. Far too late. Mickie was on the black and white hybrid before it had even grasped the handle. The fiend was large, taller than he was. It had failed to rise from its chair however, and us such could do nothing to avoid the foot he planted in its chest. With a grunt the demon toppled backwards to crash onto the hard floor.

    Mickie stomped the hand still reaching for the weapon before pulling the small firearm free and tossing it aside. The barrel of his own recalled gun slammed hard into the head of the chimera, and it froze at the sensation of cold steel against its skull. The branded man let the silence stew for a time, tension building in the air. It was not long before the demon cracked.

    ¡®W-what are you?¡¯

    What was he? That was a bit of an odd question, at least Mickie thought so until he noticed his own arm. Coated in sticky blood, dyed red by the storm and the violence within the building. It was not just his arm either, Mickie¡¯s whole body had received a generous coating of visceral paint. He could feel it drying in places, a subtle tension pulling on his skin.

    To this creature, he must be the one that looked like the demon. It was enough to make the branded man laugh. His chuckle was little more than a raspy wheeze, throat still sore from all the screaming he had done back out in the storm.

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry about that. Tell me if there are any more of you out here.¡¯

    His newly minted captor whimpered.

    ¡®More of us, as in, within the building?¡¯

    ¡®Not the building. You and I are the only ones left in here.¡¯

    If fur could pale the chimera would have gone pure white.

    ¡®I-I see. No, there is no one outside. They were all recalled for the storm.¡¯

    Small mercies.

    ¡®What was your mission here?¡¯

    ¡®Mission?¡¯

    Even through its fear, the demon closed up at the mention of its task. Mickie wanted to sigh. He had already known why the Sovereign¡¯s forces were out here. It just would have been nice to gauge how much they knew. He could drag the information from the chimera, it probably would not even take that long. Only, he was in pain, utterly exhausted, and did not really care how clued in these demons were to the Kindle Kin. Not when they could no longer pose a threat. As if on cue, his gun finished its reload cycle, the puma head thudding into place at the top. Mickie met the eyes of the demon, and it read the intent on his blood-soaked face.

    ¡®No wait I can¡­¡¯

    A crack, and then silence. Steam vented from the oversized, intricate weapon. Mickie left the vapor fading into the air as he walked from the room without a word.

    <hr>

    It did not take long to find a stash of something that passably resembled water in the lifeless building. A steel barrel of it had been tucked away in a small storage room. For some reason he was unsurprised to find some, even though nothing he had seen so far required it to survive. It reminded him of something Miz-Mag once said when he had brought up the fact. The denizens of Hell did not need, they only desired, and who would not want water in the desert.

    Mickie cleaned the thickening blood from his body as best he could. His clothes were dismissed and resummoned free of leftover viscera. By the time the branded man was done, he was clean but exhausted in more than just the physical sense of the word. A creaky hollow had come to occupy the inside of his chest. First Kalistra, then the blood storm, and now this. Mickie exited the room and made his way down the hall, stepping over a number of silent forms. Outside the wind continued its single-minded crusade upon the steel shelter.

    It was going to be just him and the dead demons for the foreseeable future. It was strange how little he cared about that, how little he cared about anything at the moment. It was as if that calm emptiness he so often sought had swallowed him whole. It had all been too much, and so he had pushed it all away without even intending to.

    Mickie worked his way into one of the rooms free of the dead. A moderately sized hangar, lit by the same bleak fluorescence as the rest of the facility. To one side of the large space was a single, oversized flying machine. It was into that he now climbed, sliding into one of the poorly cushioned seats. Mickie let his head fall back to thud against the top of the backrest. He closed his eyes, the lights above dance along his eyelids as the storm screamed at him to let it in.

    His intent had been to sleep, fade away until Miz-Mag came back around and woke him up. Only, his exhausted mind refused to rest. Drained as he was, empty as he felt, oblivion apparently wanted nothing to do with him. So, Mickie sat slumped with eyes closed. Eventually the sounds of the storm became little more than white noise, and his thoughts began to shift and dance along paths he had preferred not to tread.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    He thought of his mother, long dead now. Was she down here? Mickie was unsure if he would be able to handle seeing her again. Not after all he had done, all he had become. Hopefully she had gone somewhere better when she died, or else moved on from this place. Mickie recalled the note that had been attached to the crown of thorns. Born of blood and vine. He had hardly thought of it following his revival from a stone statue. One of the few things positive about his arrival in this realm was that nobody knew who he had been while alive. That message said otherwise.

    Now he thought of it, very few people Mickie had known would have gone to the lengths required to help him. His mother though¡­ No, it could not be her. She would never use the family motto, even for a little message like that. If not his mother, then who? It would need to be someone with influence enough to get at his statue in the spire.

    An image swam to the fore. Not of someone he had seen during life, but in the time since. A woman with features that, now he thought of it, matched those common to his family. Mickie had seen her infrequently, always tailing Belphegor when the demon visited him in the arena. At the time he had thought she looked familiar, and perhaps it was his own linage that he had been noticing. If that were the case, then who was she? Some ancestor of his that died a few generations back? Mickie could not recall seeing her in any of the old portraits and photos.

    Perhaps he was just seeing things. Assigning a connection because he was searching for one. After all, had she not been serving Belphegor? It would pose an incredible risk to assist him. Mickie sighed, shifting his weight on the chair. He figured that if his hidden ally had wanted to be known, then they would have gone with something more distinct than his family motto.

    It was sometime later that the storm finally began to clear. The first indication that it was easing up was the return of the music. Softly, almost tentatively, Mickie began to hear the steady rhythm, asking him a question that he could not quite grasp. The branded man¡¯s eyes slid open, and he stared up at the plain metal ceiling. He felt no less tired than when he first planted himself upon the chair of the large flying machine. For a moment Mickie wished he could disappear like Miz-Mag, vanish into some unknown place and return rested. Sadly, he was not so fortunate. The branded man dragged himself from his seat as the roar of the wind slackened.

    ¡®No rest for the wicked.¡¯

    He muttered, moving out of the hangar and into the corpse strewn hallway. The building had grown heavy with the scent of death while the storm raged, and Mickie was looking forward to getting some fresh air. By the time he reached the broken door to the facility, the branded man was sloshing through a thin layer of blood. The storm might be ending, but it certainly did not go without a fight.

    The hall leading to the exit was painted red with viscera. It no longer burned to the touch, which was nice, but remained uncomfortably warm. Beyond the open door, Mickie could see the rolling dunes through an easing drizzle. He waited for the storm to fade completely before moving outside. It did not take long, the crimson cloud wall was soon a fading line in the distance. Sloshing through the remaining stretch of bloody corridor, Mickie stepped out onto the sands.

    He did not know what he expected following the downpour, but complete lack of blood among the dunes was certainly not it. Sand softly parted against his foot, dry as it had been before the storm. Mickie had noticed that the blood seemed to vanish into the desert at a prodigious rate, but for it to already be dry¡­ He shook his head and glanced back at the steel building. That, at least, had a glistening layer of red across it. A result of not truly being of the desert, he supposed.

    Shifting focus, Mickie turned to the cracked plateau. He failed to truly appreciate it in that final dash to the building. First hounded by the storm, then unable to see at all once it caught him, sightseeing had been low on his priority list. Finally having a moment free of immediate danger, he took in the giant rent in the towering stone platform.

    The plateau had been first described to him as ruins, and he now saw why. Within the shadowed gap was what appeared to be a city. Carved into the very rock that housed it, buildings were layered atop one another, stretching up to the plateau¡¯s flattened peak. While the construction was impressive, it was not what truly captured Mickie¡¯s attention. No, that award went to the jagged spines of bone erupting from the rock like organic crystal.

    From windows and walkways, doors and balconies, the bleached white formations sprouted in all directions. Often crossing the gap of cracked stone, the bone crowded the open air of the carved city. It was as if Mickie was looking at the roots of a monstrous bone tree, exposed by the crack in the plateau. Well, he mused as he started towards the overgrown city, at least now he knew why they were called ruins.

    <hr>

    It was clear on approach that this place was where the Kindle Kin were to be found. As Mickie neared, the music rose in volume, echoing out of the split stone to roll across the desert. By the time he transitioned from sandy dunes to the rock of the plateau, it was more than just a background rhythm. The air thrummed with that unknowable question, and tired as Mickie was, the branded man found the music closer to irritating than intriguing.

    Coming to a stop at the edge of the cracked stone, he discovered that the ruins also stretched down into the earth. Carved buildings were increasingly overrun with bone as the split stone stretched into darkness. From this close, Mickie could make out a glimpse through the bone spines on the far side of the split as well. The scope of this place was astounding. Had the plateau always been this way? Or had something carved this giant rent into the stone, cutting so deep that Mickie could not see the bottom. It seemed impossible to even consider, yet Belphegor had managed to topple an entire pillar not so long ago. If that could be done, then why not this?

    No matter how the bone riddled city had come to be, it did not change what Mickie needed to do. It was apparent that the music rose from within the depths of the ruins, and so, that was where he would have to go. A sudden pressure on his shoulder had him stopping short, however.

    ¡®By Satan¡¯s smelly sack, what in all the nine is this place?¡¯

    The familiar weight of his companion brought an unconscious twitch to Mickie¡¯s lips.

    ¡®About time you got your lazy ass up, Mag.¡¯

    ¡®Come on kid, a specimen such as myself needs their beauty sleep.¡¯

    Miz-Mag stretched out its little arms as it took in the ruins.

    ¡®So, don¡¯t keep me in suspense, what I miss?¡¯

    Mickie began to fill Miz-Mag in on the time between his partner¡¯s disappearance and his arrival at the broken plateau. As he covered the approach of the blood storm, Mickie examined the edge of the ruins for a way down. Rocky ground gave way to sheer cliffs as it met the cracked plateau. Buildings carved into the surface extended around to firmer ground, providing access to the vertical city. It was next to one of these that Mickie noticed the pathway. Creating a passage into the stone it looked to wrap around the back of the buildings and lead deeper into the ruins.

    ¡®By the blood. A storm¡­ well I¡­ I¡¯m sure glad I missed that one.¡¯

    Having finished his recap, Mickie barked a short laugh at the demon¡¯s droll reply. He had reached the passageway into the city and was fishing out the orb lamp. The sides of the cracked plateau might be touched by crystal light, but their way into the ruins tunnelled into the stony cliffside.

    ¡®Yeah, must be nice being able to jump ship whenever suits, come back later to find someone else has done all the work.¡¯

    ¡®Is that jealousy I detect, dear boy?¡¯

    ¡®Jealous? Of your scrawny hide? Couldn¡¯t be.¡¯

    Mickie grinned as he felt a smack against the side of his ear. Stepping into the carved tunnel, he felt lighter. Sure, the exhaustion was still there, but at least he was not alone anymore. It was a strange realisation to make, that he had grown to prefer the company of a demon over solitude. Then again, he had always felt better when there were others around.

    ¡®Those Kindle Kin sure are loud. Did you get anything out of the Sovereign¡¯s lot on them?¡¯

    He had brushed over the fight in the building, and Miz-Mag seemed to have noticed the lack of detail.

    ¡®No, I did not.¡¯

    Was all Mickie said on the subject. While it might have been a good move to interrogate the leader of that facility, he did not regret skipping the process. Miz-Mag picked up on the undertones in his response, and did not push further.

    ¡®Ah well. They don¡¯t sound all that far away though. Makes you wonder why they aren¡¯t up here yet.¡¯

    The branded man hummed in agreement, coming across a carved set of stairs in the dark passage. He started down them only to walk almost headfirst into a thick spine of bone. It cut from one wall to another, bisecting the tunnel like a poorly made boom gate. Mickie carefully ducked beneath it and continued downwards. He was unsure if this stuff was the same as the trees in the bone wood, but figured erring on the side of caution was the way to go.

    ¡®Hopefully it won¡¯t take us that long to figure out.¡¯

    He said, following the stairs as they curved back towards the cliff face.

    ¡®You worried about our resident gorgon?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah.¡¯

    Mickie rubbed his eyes.

    ¡®I don¡¯t think Belphegor will kill her, that¡¯s not really its style.¡¯

    ¡®Plus, she¡¯s bonded with Ziz now. If she goes then the big bird goes with her. I¡¯d say big Bel will want to use her as leverage.¡¯

    Miz-Mag mused.

    ¡®That makes sense. I just¡­¡¯

    He paused, coming to the end of the stairs and stepping into another hall.

    ¡®Belphegor seemed pissed. It might not kill Kalistra, but who knows what it¡¯ll do to her instead. Especially if Ziz doesn¡¯t come crawling back.¡¯

    Ahead light filtered through the passage ahead, indicating their tunnel was merging back into the cliffside.

    ¡®Well, that¡¯s the whole point of this exercise ain¡¯t it? We get the singers to help us boot Belphegor out of the tower. Then you can finish figuring out those controls up top, and we can get out of here.¡¯

    Mickie had reached the end of the tunnel, stepping out onto a ledge of stone. His reply to Miz-Mag died on his lips as the ruins of the cracked plateau stretch out before him. From the edge of the carved city, he had failed to truly take in the magnitude of the place. Only nestled within the vertical layers of carved walkways and buildings did it truly hit him. Miz-Mag leaned forward and peered into the city¡¯s depths, giving an appreciative whistle.

    ¡®The bone sure does get thick down there.¡¯

    Mickie followed his partner¡¯s gaze to a point that had to be the base of the ruins. He could not confirm whether it truly was however, as past a certain point the bone spines became so dense they formed a barrier. Shifting his head side to side, the branded man could not find an angle that let him peer past the white wall.

    ¡®What¡¯s the bet that¡¯s where the Kindle Kin are?¡¯

    Miz-Mag flopped down on his shoulder and chuckled grimly.

    ¡®With our luck? I¡¯d say it¡¯s just about guaranteed.¡¯

    The pair continued their descent through the bone riddled ruins, walking along paths that seemed to follow no discernible pattern. Narrow ledges curved back into wide passageways that bored deep into the plateau. Backtracking was not uncommon, and Mickie soon took to marking walls with a shot from his gun to aid them on the way out.

    As they had observed from above, the bone spurs grew more regular as they descended. Passages became crowded with twisting spines, so dense at points that Mickie could not pass. In the open air of the cliff, entire sections of hanging walkways had broken away as the bone pushed through. It dragged their slow investigation down to a crawl, and Mickies frustration gradually mounted at the delays until he finally hit a breaking point.

    They had come across yet another passage overcome by bone, only this time Mickie could see a staircase just past the blockage. It was not far now to the city¡¯s base, if he could just get through this barrier, those stairs might be the last leg of the descent. He thought about simply shooting his way through, but recalled the acidic bone wood sap. If these roots were the same, then it would be a bad idea to blow open a hall full of them. Instead, the branded man took a moment to examine the barrier, judging just how tight of a squeeze it would be.

    ¡®Kid, are you going to do what I think you¡¯re doin?¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave him a nervous look.

    ¡®I might have to. Squeezing through is probably a risk, but its one I¡¯ll need to take. We¡¯ve wasted enough time trying to find a way down, we need to get this done.¡¯

    The little demon sighed and hopped from its perch.

    ¡®Alright, but if one of these things opens up to eat you, don¡¯t expect me to run in and pull you out.¡¯

    ¡®I wouldn¡¯t bother, you can hardly move a pencil, let alone me.¡¯

    Miz-Mag threw a rude gesture in his direction before ducking into the mess of bone spurs. His little partner had no difficulty scampering through the worst of it, and was soon waiting in the clear space by the stairs. Being small certainly had its perks. Following along, Mickie got on his hands and knees and started crawling through the dense bone.

    Soon he was lying flat, reaching forward to grasp protruding bone and pull himself through. The twisting spines were uncomfortably warm to the touch and shuddered slightly when he laid a palm upon them. Mickie clenched his jaw against the rising disgust and heaved himself forward. Feet scrabbled at the floor; hips contorted to squeeze through a narrow gap. He reached forward to grasp a spur, almost free, when pain laced through his hand. Mickie yanked his arm away from the bone, leaving a read stain where flesh had met bone.

    Without realising it the branded man had grabbed a section too jagged for safety, slicing a deep wound into his palm. That in and of itself was not a bad thing, his healing would have it sorted in a few minutes. The problem was that he was not the only one who had noticed the injury. The bone through though which he currently crawled also appeared to sense the blood. Mickie felt something sift against his side, slow but with incredible force. Cursing he scrabbled at the floor and reached for another handhold.

    ¡®Oh, by the blood, it¡¯s starting to move! Kid you got to hurry it up in there!¡¯

    Miz-Mag screeched as the spurs intersecting the tunnel came alive. Having gotten a taste of fresh blood, they were suddenly eager to sample a bit more. Mickie felt the pressure on his hips rising as they closed on his body, threating to crush him. Desperately, he hauled himself forward, feet shoving against bone. The branded man slid an inch before coming to a dead stop. It was too late; the spurs had barely needed to shift to lock him in their grasp.

    Pressure built as he was squeezed tighter, his own bones threatening to break. Gasping, Mickie called upon his last resort and a gun formed in his hand. Pumping power into the weapon, he slammed three shots into the various spurs closing upon him. There was the crack of bone, and suddenly the pressure on Mickie lessened as something sloshed across his lower body.

    Finally able to move, the mortal dragged himself free of the tangle, scrambling on hands and knees to gain some distance. Only a growing pain in his arms, hips and legs stopped him short. Mickie glanced down at himself to find thick red viscera eating away at his clothes. Where the gloopy substance managed to work its way through it burned his skin, dissolving that to get at his flesh.

    Swearing in a steady stream, Mickie dismissed his clothing, dashing backwards to avoid the acidic viscera as it sloshed to the floor. Desperately, he called forth his shirt and wiped the excess blood from his legs. It only took a few moments, but by the end of it he gasping, naked, and smarting with burns all over.

    ¡®Welp. That uh¡­ That sure was something kid.¡¯

    Miz-Mag made its way over to him, rolling the orb lamp along like an oversized toy.

    ¡®Next time.¡¯

    Mickie ground out.

    ¡®I¡¯ll just shoot the damn things.¡¯

    He resummoned his clothes, free now of the acidic viscera, and examined the fresh cut to his hand. It was deep, but already his accelerated healing had slowed the flow of blood from the wound. He doubted it would take more than a couple hours to mend itself. Clenching his fist about the ragged slice Mickie turned to the bone spurs that had caused it. From the outside it was hard to tell that they were moving. Small shifts in position and the soft grinding of stone was the only indication that the spines were anything more than they seemed. Mickie supposed such small movements would have been enough to take him, surrounded as he had been by the accursed things.

    ¡®Shall we?¡¯

    Miz-Mag had rolled their lamp to the edge of the stairs and was now casting its partner a meaningful look. Getting the hint that it was time to go, Mickie threw one last glare in the direction of the bone spines before turning away. He scooped up the glowing ball of light and started downwards as Miz-Mag reclaimed its usual perch. This deep into the abandoned city, it was uncommon to find a space not overrun by bone growths. As such Mickie was unsurprised when not a few meters down the staircase he came across a spine hanging from the ceiling. Not paying it much heed, he shifted to walk around the jagged obstacle. There was a sudden creaking of rock as the bone started to move, slowly reaching sideways in his direction.

    ¡®What in all the nine!¡¯

    On his shoulder Miz-Mag was close to the bone, and nearly leapt off Mickie in its bid to get away. Cursing, the branded man leant to one side and hurried past the slothful spine. In truth, it was too slow to actually reach them, but the fact that it had even tried was disconcerting. Stupidly, Mickie has assumed that the shifting bone was a self-contained event, and now that they were past the blockade things would return to normal. Reaching the end on the stairs and stepping out into the open air of the cracked plateau, he was presented with plentiful evidence to the contrary.

    A blur streaked past the corner of his vision as a loose chunk of stone fell, crashing into the mass of slowly shifting spurs. Looking up, Mickie beheld a sea of twisting bone spines. Hundreds of white growths that cast a web of moving shadow as they reached downwards. As they reached, Mickie realised, for him.

    ¡®In all the stinkin¡¯ circles¡­ What have you gone and done now kid?¡¯

    Mickie said nothing as a deep sense of foreboding settled upon him. They still needed to climb back out of this place once they found the Kindle Kin. He was going to have to head right into that sea of grasping bone. A warm trickle from his sliced hand drew Mickie¡¯s attention to the wound. The branded man glance down just in time to see a droplet of red fall from the knuckled of a curled finger. It hit the stone balcony, and he could have sworn the bone throughout the plateau shuddered as it did.

    ¡®Let¡¯s find the Kindle Kin and get the hell out of here.¡¯

    ¡®No need to convince me, kid.¡¯

    They were close to the dense cluster of bone at the base of the crack. From this height the slowly writhing mass appeared to have gaps between the spines that he could slip through. Getting in would not be the issue here, the spines were slow, and Mickie could dash past them. The problem would be getting out. Given enough time the bone could close in upon him, blocking his routes of escape to then gradually crush him. However, as much as Mickie might want to, there would be no turning back. He needed the assistance of the Kindle Kin, and their music was emanating straight out of that grasping bone cluster.

    It did not take the duo long to locate a path into the broken plateau¡¯s base. Narrow stairs carved into the nearby cliff face wound their way down and through the bone. Mickie took them at speed, slipping past the curling spines before they had much of a chance to react. Soon enough the faint light filtering down from the plateau¡¯s top weakened, becoming little more than a twilight haze. Mickie¡¯s world shifted into a place of rock, bone and shadow as he held up their orb lamp. They went deeper and deeper, the Kindle Kin¡¯s song growing ever louder, until finally the stairs levelled out.

    Mickie paused as his bare feet touched upon a flat expanse of stone. From one sheer cliff wall to the other, spines punctured the ground like hairs on a head. He was like a flea, one that was actively being hunted by the space it occupied. Even now the bone shifted in his direction, lured by the promise of his blood. Unsure where to go next, the branded man simply decided to follow the music. He weaved in between bone, darting forward like a fish through waving reeds. Ahead a shape began to emerge through the forest of white. Shadows swam up to form a shape, angled and blocky, but standing tall amidst the bone. A building came into view, the first standalone structure Mickie had seen within the carved ruins.

    Something about the stone structure¡¯s magnitude and proportions tickle the mortal¡¯s brain. The slant of the roof and imperious cut of the two towers crowning it felt vaguely familiar. He had no time to dwell on the architecture however, as the spines of bone were growing thicker, and, if he was not mistaken, more urgent in their movements. The building appeared free of any shifting growths, and Mickie hurried for the safety offered by a doorless arch of deep shadow. He could hear the grinding of bone on bone over the growing music as grasping spines buffeted one another in their quest to take him.

    With a final, desperate dash, Mickie closed upon the building and ducked inside. He quickly got away from the entrance in case anything followed him in, then leant against a nearby wall to catch his breath. The building¡¯s interior was a strange mixture of gothic and austere, constructed with sharp angles and contours that were grandiose in construction, but lacking any significant affectation. It was also not quite as bone free as Mickie had been led to believe.

    Near the wall opposite the door through which they had entered, across the single, vaulted room, was a disturbing hole in the ground. The unmistakable white of bone flowed out to seamlessly blend with the uncanny curves of the room. So deliberate and uniform was the join between the two, that it was as if the building had grown around the sinister formation.

    ¡®Just when I thought things couldn¡¯t get any creepier.¡¯

    Miz-Mag glanced about with trepidation at the eerie.

    ¡®I¡¯ll bet.¡¯

    Mickie muttered, wondering if it might not be preferable to head back outside and face down the shifting spines. There was something inherently wrong with that hole. It was like an open wound in the side of reality, something which Mickie¡¯s instincts told him should not exist. He did not want to spend any more time in the same room as it, let alone approach the accursed thing. So, of course, that meant the song of the Kindle Kin was echoing straight out of its darkened depths.

    Releasing a sigh that was half tension and half a tired kind of dread, the branded man started across the room. Light played strangely off the surrounding architecture, casting shadows that shifted and moved like the growths outside. Mickie reached the point where stone shifted to bone and hesitated.

    ¡®Second thoughts kid?¡¯

    His partner sounded almost hopeful.

    ¡®No, I¡­ no. We¡¯re doing this.¡¯

    ¡®And if that tunnel comes alive and decides our blood would make a nice coat of paint? It could squish us like a bug.¡¯

    Mickie winced. That had been the exact thought that caused him to pause.

    ¡®The bone outside is pretty slow, and this hole is pretty large. Even it starts to close, I can run back out.¡¯

    ¡®Uh huh.¡¯

    The demon made a distinctly sarcastic sound.

    ¡®You¡¯ll bet our lives on a running race. Sounds on brand for you kid.¡¯

    The mortal gave his companion some serious side eye as he took a slow step onto the bone floor. It was warm to the touch, almost hot, and shuddered ever so slightly at the contact of his bare foot. Mickie almost stepped right back off it, probably would have if not for Miz-Mag¡¯s snark. Instead, the branded man soldiered through his discomfort and continued towards the hole. Like the mouth of a whale in the deep it swam into the light of his lamp. First the curve of a wall, then a hint of a slope. Mickie came to a stop when he could finally see into its depths.

    A lumpen cylinder of bone burrowed into the rock of the plateau, leading deeper than Mickie¡¯s lamp could illuminate. He had held onto a wisp of hope that they would reach the hole and find the Kindle Kin waiting. They could all get out of these accursed ruins and go give Belphegor what for. Except, nothing was ever that easy. Mickie could tell from the volume of the music that the grey singers were close, and likely had been for a while now. Something was keeping the Kin from the seventh circle, and if he wanted their help, then Mickie was going to have to go find out what.

    ¡®You ready Mag?¡¯

    ¡®Not even close, dear boy.¡¯

    The branded man nodded, took a slow breath, and stepped into the gloom of the tunnel. The bone beneath his feet seemed to shudder with expectation as it welcomed him.

 29 â€“ The Fractured Tree

    Mickie had officially had enough of trekking through tunnels. For a circle as open as the seventh was, it seemed he had spent a significant portion of his time up here stuck under piles of rock. Although, he had to admit, the bone passage felt less like a natural cave than the inside of some massive beast. From the disturbing warmth of the chalky ground to the eerie way everything vibrated minutely, it was as if the tunnel were alive. With every step he took deeper into the passage, Mickie came that next increment closer to giving up the whole endeavour. Visions of the walls and ceiling constricting to crush him were offset only by the growing march of coaxing music. The Kindle Kin were close now, he could not afford to falter.

    For all that it felt like he had been walking for hours, it did not actually take Mickie long to reach the tunnel¡¯s end. He stepped into a small cave that rang with the song of the Kin. It was an empty space, rounded to the point of being near spherical, and made up of that same, strange bone. It was also a complete and utter dead end. No paths led onwards, and no Kindle Kin were in sight. The voices of the grey singers might echo through living cave, but that was the only sign of their presence.

    ¡®What in the nine? Kid, you see that?¡¯

    Something moved in the dark, catching Miz-Mag¡¯s eye while Mickie examined the walls and ceiling.

    ¡®See what? I¡­¡¯

    The branded man trailed off as he noticed a rather human-like outline against the far wall. It did not seem to be approaching, but rather shifting in place, swaying to the rhythm of the music.

    ¡®Hello? Who¡¯s there?¡¯

    No response. After sharing a wary glance with his partner Mickie held his lamp aloft and approached the silent dancer. Light soon fell upon the far wall, and the figured was revealed to him. It was bone, same as everything else in this accursed cave. A skeleton of a human, half fused to the cave wall so that it appeared to be breaching the cave like the surface of a white lake.

    ¡®All right. Okay. Kid I¡¯m not sure we want to go anywhere near that thing.¡¯

    Miz-Mag was rightfully wary of the swaying skeleton, but Mickie had come down here to find the Kindle Kin, and this was their only lead. Cautiously, he moved forward, deeper into the small cave. Closer to the swaying remains, Mickie could see clearly where its forearms and lower spine blended into the cave wall. Without any muscle or ligaments to hold the other bones in place, the remainder of the body should have been a heap on the floor. It was not without support, however. Threads of bleached white linked all remaining bones to the wall like a puppet with uncountable strings. It was these that shifted to create a facsimile of swaying dance.

    After observing the strange sight for a time, Mickie soon found himself meandering forward. For all that the odd bones were disconcerting, he did not feel overly threatened by them. Unlike the spines above, these remains seemed small and fragile, lacking the ability to grasp or chase him. He supposed the threads that controlled the body might be able to reach for him, by they too did not seem overly tough. Only one feature proved disturbing enough to give Mickie pause. The skull of the dancing bones appeared to be split open.

    A nasty gash ran from the peak of the nose to the top of the rounded skull. The crack held a darkness that seemed more complete than that of the surrounding cave. Inky energy spilled forth in tiny wisps that curled and dissipated into the surrounding air like smoke. It left a trail of fading ink in the skull¡¯s wake as the skeleton swayed gently back and forth.

    With each step he took, Mickie paused for an instant, waiting for a reaction that never came. It was as if the Kindle Kin had trapped the bones in a trance with their song. The mortal stopped a couple of steps from the dancing oddity, taking a moment with Miz-Mag to trace the hypnotic line of smoky darkness.

    ¡®Well kid? What now?¡¯

    The little fiend voiced Mickie¡¯s exact thoughts.

    ¡®I¡¯m not sure¡­¡¯

    He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth.

    ¡®Normally at this stage something¡¯s trying to kill us. Makes the next move pretty obvious for the most part.¡¯

    Miz-Mag sighed dramatically.

    ¡®I suppose so. Honestly, I expected this jolly pile of bones to wake up and bring down the ceiling on us. That crack in the head is a touch sinister.¡¯

    Mickie hummed his agreement and ran through his options. The Kindle Kin were close, perhaps in a separate tunnel to their own. That would mean they were likely digging their way up.

    Except, he thought, that could not be right.

    Even over the clammer of the singer¡¯s music, excavation should be audible. Then there was the tone of their song, it was insistent, reassuring yet demanding. Like they were trying to persuade someone through song. Looking at the swaying pile of bones, Mickie was realising he had a good idea who that someone might be.

    ¡®Uh kid, I know this fella¡¯s dancing is mighty appealing, but aren¡¯t you getting a little close for comfort?¡¯

    The branded man had taken another couple steps forward, bringing the skeleton with arms reach. This close he could see clearly how uncanny the crack in its head was. Something vast lay beyond the wisps of inky smoke, reminding Mickie somewhat uncomfortably of the abyss beneath the ninth circle.

    ¡®I think I know how to get the Kindle Kin up here.¡¯

    He said in response to Miz-Mag¡¯s uncertain query.

    ¡®Oh? Do tell.¡¯

    ¡®Well, we know from experience the bone can move, right?¡¯

    ¡®How could I forget?¡¯

    The demon muttered glumly.

    ¡®So, what if it¡¯s the bone itself blocking the passage, and what we¡¯re hearing is the Kindle Kin trying to convince it to open up?¡¯

    It made sense to Mickie, but his partner did not seem so certain.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, what was that?¡¯

    ¡®Think about it.¡¯

    The branded man continued, growing ever more confident in his theory.

    ¡®We know that the Sovereign had been hearing music for a while, which means the Kin have been stuck here for some time. If they were digging or fighting, we¡¯d probably hear some of it, even over the music. I haven¡¯t noticed anything like that. Not so much as a peep since getting to the ruins. That means their posted up nearby singing.¡¯

    ¡®Right.¡¯

    Miz-Mag dragged the word out slowly, taken aback by Mickie¡¯s sudden fervour.

    ¡®But singing¡¯s kinda what the Kindle Kin do, kid. Doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re trying to convince old boy here to open up.¡¯

    The little fiend waved an arm at the swaying skeleton. Mickie sighed, frustrated his partner was not getting it.

    ¡®Look at the thing, Mag. Every other bone in this place is out for blood, all except this one. We come to the bottom of the ruins and find this thing dancing instead. I¡¯m telling you, it¡¯s the Kindle Kin. They¡¯re trying to get it to open a passage.¡¯

    ¡®Uh huh, and why don¡¯t they just dig a hole instead.¡¯

    ¡®Well, because¡­¡¯

    Mickie thought for a moment, but soon had a ready answer.

    ¡®They probably don¡¯t want to antagonise the bone growths. I bet it wouldn¡¯t take too kindly to having someone chip away at it.¡¯

    ¡®Hmm, I guess.¡¯

    Miz-Mag reluctantly gave him the point but was not quite ready to fold.

    ¡®So, let¡¯s say for a moment that you¡¯re right, and the Kin are singing their way onto the seventh. What are we supposed to do about it?¡¯

    Mickie tracked the skeleton as it swung back and forth, like a snake charmed by the song of a piper. Miz-Mag was not going to like his answer to that particular question. The branded man rolled his neck. It was a good thing then, that he was not overly fussed about the demon¡¯s opinion on the matter.

    ¡®Well, Ziz told us that the Kindle Kin were going to be here, which means it figured I¡¯d be able to do something about it.¡¯

    He took a moment, stretching his injured hand and feeling a twinge of pain as the cut was pulled apart. Fresh blood dribbled along his palm and down his fingers.

    ¡®Sure kid, that doesn¡¯t answer the question of what though¡­¡¯

    Miz-Mag seemed to sense something was amiss, a hint of Mickie¡¯s intent in the hardening of his voice.

    ¡®Ziz also said I was the key, and that¡¯s been true so far. Might as well give it a go here too.¡¯

    Mickie followed the skull of the puppeted skeleton, watching it trail darkness to one side, then back in an arch towards him. On his shoulder Miz-Mag was growing increasingly alarmed.

    ¡®Yeah, but that was with the tower and an elevator, not¡­¡¯

    In a swift, fluid motion, Mickie reached up and grasped the cracked cranium with his injured hand. Blood met shifting darkness, and before the demon on his shoulder could react the mortal¡¯s mind was swept away.

    <hr>

    The human that had been Mickie experienced a sensation unlike anything Hell had yet provided. It was too soft to be pain, too fractious for comfort. A feeling wider and more expansive than any single emotion had the capacity to convey. His mind was split and split again, mingling with something far greater than he was. Voices arose, thousands of them, millions. Screaming, crying, laughing, shouting, whimpering, and generally making themselves known through the vast spectrum of human expression. Mickie was pulled into this maelstrom, a leaf into a hurricane.

    The mortal tried to hold onto his purpose, his intent for touching that dark crack in the skeleton¡¯s skull. Only, he had missed Amber¡¯s birthday, and his husband was seeing the girl from the corner caf¨¦, and if he could just have more of it then he would be whole. Countless minds touched upon his own, memories and thought¡¯s intermingling with his own. They had no purpose, no rhyme or reason other than the fact of their existence. Mickie had dived headfirst into the ocean of souls absorbed by the bone woods over their countless millennia of existence, and he was drowning in it. The branded man did not even have the opportunity to try and swim, so rapid was he taken in. Still though, he was not immediately gone, his psyche was being pulled and stretched, but it was not an instant process.

    Occasionally, enough of Mickie¡¯s mind would collide that he got a chance to think, and for the most part, to panic. He had been so certain, assured that Ziz would not direct him here if he did not have the capability to reach the Kindle Kin. The branded man had gambled on that fact, and tried something monumentally foolish. He had not known what the dancing skull was, or what the ruins represented. Perhaps if he had, then he might have acted differently. Only, he was not sure what he had done to make dad so mad at him, nor if Helen liked him the way he liked her.

    The storm of souls blew Mickie apart, and in doing so, carried in something new on their ceaseless winds. It was soft, soothing, asking something of his fractured soul that felt immensely important. It wanted him to open the way, asked the ocean inside the living bone to let it pass. Clarity hit as enough of Mickie fell back together. The Kindle Kin. It was their song, he could hear their song. He had been right; they were trying to get the bone to open the path. Only it was not working, not at anything that could be considered a reasonable speed. The Kin were attempting to dam a river with toothpicks. It would take far too long, Belphegor would pull Kalistra to pieces well before then. Unless, the fading parts of Mickie¡¯s mind thought, the river allowed itself to be dammed.

    When next he was pulled into innumerable pieces, the branded man took something with him. It was not a thought in the literal sense, as thoughts could not survive being torn into so many pieces. Instead, he took with him the simple desire to listen. To hear the music and do as it said. He was bleeding out on the floor of a warehouse, and he needed to open the way. He was slow dancing with the most beautiful man he had ever met, and he needed to open the way. He was leaping from a plane with adrenaline singing in his veins, and he needed to open the way. Mickie was a thousand different people, at a thousand different times, and in all of them, he listened to the music. Those fractured pieces of humanity touched upon others, opening ears to the plea of the song.

    Somebody said they wouldn¡¯t mind lending a hand. Another agreed, thinking it was good to be needed. In an ever-growing tide the message was heard and received, with the souls of the storm deciding to lend a hand. Through it all the fragments of Mickie swam, continuing to spread the song¡¯s message, even as he fell further and further apart.

    <hr>

    In a cave of made entirely of bone, a small demon was screaming curses at two figures. One was a mortal man, with olive skin, dark hair and hazel eyes. The other was a human skeleton, half fused to the wall and no longer swaying hypnotically from side to side. Mickie had done something he most certainly should not have when he grasped the cracked skull. From the moment flesh met cranium, both the bag of bones and the branded mortal had been locked in a quiet stalemate. Outwardly they were little more than statues, but Miz-Mag knew different.

    ¡®Abyss riddled, blood spoiling, Cerberus shitin¡¯, accursed dumbass.¡¯

    With little success, the fiend ranted as it tried to pry loose Mickie fingers from the silent skeleton. Every moment that past only served to make it all the more frantic. Miz-Mag could feel the changes as they occurred within Mickie, sense them through their interlocked souls. As the branded mortal¡¯s mind grew ever more fractured, the spill over onto his soul was becoming stronger. Through their bond, Miz-Mag felt the insistent tug as something tried to rip Mickie¡¯s soul from its own. Without their connection, the demon was doubtful the kid would even have lasted this long.

    Soon though, the pull would be too great. Whatever was in that skull would rip its partner from his mortal shell and either kill or drag Miz-Mag with it. Not only that, but there was nothing the little fiend could do about it. Nothing except fight a losing battle against the ceaseless current.

    When the change finally came, Miz-Mag had long given up any sign of physical effort. The demon was slumped on the shoulder if its companion, concentrating entirely on keeping the kid¡¯s soul in his body. Barely noticeable over the song of the kindle kin came a grinding sound. It drew the fiend¡¯s head up, and Miz-Mag looked blearily about the cave. Mickie had kept hold of the lamp in his free hand when he grabbed the skeleton, but the illumination was not perfect. The lines of his fingers bisected the light with sharp shadows, making it difficult for Miz-Mag to conduct a proper search.

    The little fiend tried to zero in on the source of the noise, but it seemed near omnipresent. Somewhere within the stretch of wall connected to the skeleton was the best it could manage. Miz-Mag scowled mightily and dragged itself to its feet. The sound was growing, supressing even the ceaseless music of the Kin. Then the little fiend saw it, a shift in the bone of the wall. Almost imperceptible at first, but growing more apparent as the grinding grew ever louder. Drawing away from the contained skeleton like parting curtains, the cave began to melt away. A tunnel was forming before Miz-Mag¡¯s eyes, one which led deeper into the dark. Soon, all that remained of the cave wall was a single bleached pillar, to which the skeleton was still fused.

    Eventually the grinding stopped, and when it did the song of the Kindle Kin soon followed. The abrupt silence left Miz-Mag¡¯s ears ringing, and it took the demon a moment to realise what that meant.

    ¡®Kid, you did it! Whatever stupid shit you decided to pull it worked!¡¯

    The fiend darted along its companion¡¯s arm to begin work on his fingers once more.

    ¡®You can come back now. Come on, job¡¯s done.¡¯

    It was over, it had to be. Only, the accursed skeleton had not relinquished Mickie¡¯s mind. The pair remained locked together, even as the newly forged silence was broken by the tromp of footsteps.

    ¡®I thought you said it was going to take a while Con? That can¡¯t have been more than a few days.¡¯

    A voice echoed up the tunnel, weathered and vaguely familiar. Miz-Mag turned from its efforts with Mickie¡¯s fingers to see a light bobbing its way up the passage.

    ¡®Yes, the process began accelerating exponentially not long ago. I believe something assisted us in penetrating the roots.¡¯

    The reply came in a softer voice, one that Miz-Mag recalled from their time within the palace. Sure enough, coming into view down the slope of the tunnel was the hunched figure of a Kindle Kin. Long arms, stubby legs, and bulbous eyes that were clouded over with the veil of the blind. The Conductor. Beside the old singer walked an equally aged mortal, one who started as he noticed the light coming from Mickie¡¯s lamp.

    ¡®Hold for a moment, something¡¯s up ahead.¡¯

    With a gesture the pair slowed, and two hulking figures thudded their way forward to take the lead.

    ¡®A touch overdramatic, Karsus. Did you not hear me say they were aiding us?¡¯

    ¡®We cannot risk your safety Con, you know that.¡¯

    Lamplight fell upon two hulking metal hybrids, fusions of steel and grey flesh that filled Miz-Mag with a kind of foreboding nostalgia. He had spent many an hour in the halls of Administration with these hulking guards. The new arrivals approached the little demon¡¯s cave, and Miz-Mag felt hope spark in its weary breast. They had done it, and the Conductor itself was coming. Surely a creature as old as that knew some way to pull Mickie from the skeleton¡¯s skull.

    The two hybrids were the first to notice who awaited them within the bone cave. They came to a stop beside Mickie and made a sound like a cement mixer choking on some gravel. One of the giants reached a metal arm towards the trapped mortal and Miz-Mag darted out of the way, grinning. It might not be able to pull its partner free, but surely one of these monsters could manage it.

    ¡®Stop! Do not touch him!¡¯

    It was the craggy voice of the old man, Karsus, cracking like a whip as he pushed between the two hybrids. The metal giant froze, clawed fingers about to curl around Mickie¡¯s wrist.

    ¡®Can you not see he is communing with the roots? To force him free now would do far more harm than good.¡¯

    Miz-Mag cursed. Far more harm than good? Could this old fellow not tell that Mickie was about two steps from having his soul ripped from his body? Then again, the demon mused, maybe that was the point. Karsus had not exactly been their biggest fan back in the ninth circle. There was a low hum from behind the two hybrids, and the pair took a sudden step back. If Miz-Mag was not mistaken, they seemed a little embarrassed.

    ¡®It is faint, but if I¡¯m not mistaken, this is a rather familiar song, is it not?¡¯

    The blind conductor said, turning its milky eyes towards Mickie as if to examine him.

    ¡®Yep, it¡¯s familiar alright, and our friends here almost cut his music short.

    Karsus responded grouchily, giving the two hybrids a dirty look.

    ¡®Yes, you will have to forgive them. We Kin tend to be uncharacteristically overzealous when it comes to the Song Spinners.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ve noticed. Now, by all the stinkin¡¯ circles, hurry up and help the blighter!¡¯

    Miz-Mag felt another painful tug at its soul and shouted an ineffectual plea at the blind singer. For its part, the conductor seemed to be examining Mickie in its own way. Low ululating humming came from the Kindle Kin leader, striking something deep within the little demon.

    ¡®How strange it is, that we should meet the Spinner again, and here of all places.¡¯

    ¡®Yes well, that is a bit suspicious, but unless something is done soon, I¡¯m not sure we¡¯ll get to ask him the how of it.¡¯

    Karsus muttered, shifting his attention from the statuesque mortal to the broader chamber.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡®Will you lot be able to do anything?¡¯

    Miz-Mag had failed to notice, fixated as it had been on the Conductor and Mickie, that the cave was gradually filling with Kindle Kin. Metal hybrids and stubby creatures of flesh were now lining the walls, their attention glued on the mortal and the skeleton.

    ¡®Perhaps, but Mickie has sunk deep into the roots, it will be upon him to take hold of any line that we cast.¡¯

    The Conductor seemed pensive, still humming that low ululation. Another twinge from deep within had Miz-Mag gasping, folded against its partner¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡®Yeah, great. Please get on with it.¡¯

    Almost as if the had heard the little fiend, the Kindle Kin began to sing. It started out slow, little more than an oscillating tone that vibrated off the cave¡¯s bone walls. As time went on, however, meaning began to fold into the music. Miz-Mag sensed recollection, acuity and unification. It felt the call to return, gathering weight as it was spun together by the grey singers. The Conductor guided the melody, shaping it like a baker might fold and knead dough. Miz-Mag felt the impulse of the music, and a surge of hope answered from within itself.

    ¡®This is it, kid. Come back or we¡¯re both toast.¡¯

    The blind leader of the Kin raised an arm, and the song swelled into a cresting wave. It hung there for a moment, promise and tension on a razors edge. Then the Conductor¡¯s arm fell, and the music went with it. The call thundered downwards, crashing into Mickie and the twisting storm of fragmented thoughts and intentions. It flowed deeper and deeper, down to where the fading remains of the mortal¡¯s psyche struggled to hold on.

    <hr>

    Mickie was fading. The realisation came to him in whenever enough of his fractured mind managed to piece together a rational thought. In spreading the Kindle Kin¡¯s song, he had delved too far into the storm of souls, and now it had its hooks in him. He had completed his task, had felt the moment when the collective consciousness of the hurricane opened the passage. Now the song had ceased, and Mickie did not know where he was or where to go.

    Memories of lives other than his own bombarded him, and it was becoming difficult for Mickie to remember who he was and why he held such a terrible feeling of dread. The branded man brushed against another soul and wondered why he was unhappy, he was one of the youngest CEO¡¯s in his country. Another had him giggling as he led a group of mortals, naked and in chains. Every time it got harder to think, harder to remember. He was huddled in an alley, desperate for just a little bit more. Then he was dancing in room full of strangers, to music that did not match his movements.

    Clarity abruptly returned as enough of his mind crashed together for coherent thought. For a blessed few moments, Mickie was able to think. Through the churn of souls and bubbling panic, the branded man recalled that last memory. Of music that did not fit the dance, music, that was even now still ringing through his thoughts. For a moment Mickie listened, and in the song, he heard a call. It was not a request of the soul storm, but one tailored just for him.

    ¡°This way¡±, it seemed to say, ¡°you need to come back.¡±

    Mickie grasped the melody like a lifeline, even as he was once more pulled asunder. As he had with the first song, the branded man now spread this new music. He needed to cast a net, reel himself back in with the Kindle Kin¡¯s new call. Only, he was drowning in murky water and should not be capable of hearing such a wondrous tune. Then, he was holding his glistening guts and wondering why he could hear music. With nothing but the song and his intent, the fragments of Mickie¡¯s mind spun back out into the storm.

    Gradually, he spread the threads throughout the storm, and the souls were willing to carry his word with them. The branded man was clambering up a mountainside, wondering where that music was coming from. He was sitting in a plain meeting room, asking if someone¡¯s phone was ringing, though the ringtone was rather strange. Mickie turned to his fellow fiends, and told them he had to go, someone was calling for him.

    When the mortal¡¯s mind next came back together, it no longer separated. The fragments of his consciousness were endowed with momentum now, and with each moment Mickie¡¯s thoughts grew clearer. The Kindle Kin¡¯s song was more than just a heading. By taking it, he was able to move through the storm in such a manner that had not been possible before. It was a lifeline that was being pulled from both directions, assisting him in his escape.

    The disparate souls impact lessened as Mickie recollected himself. With a consciousness that was less fractured, he was better able to discern the foreign memories from his own. When the final piece of his psyche was dragged back into place, it was with a visceral kind of pleasure. Mickie had endured the scattering induced by the storm, but in no way had it been pleasurable. Whole again, the branded man shifted himself entirely towards the task of escape.

    In this realm of mind and soul he had no body, yet Mickie could have sworn the music grew louder the closer to freedom that he came. He felt the storm clearing around him, the brush of other minds growing less frequent. So close to comprehensible reality that he could almost taste it, Mickie gave one last monumental effort. There was a brief, final resistance, and he snapped free from the realm within the skeleton¡¯s split skull.

    Mickie¡¯s mind came back to his body with such force it was physical. A headache bloomed like a spiked flower as he staggered backwards. Every part of his brain ached, from the tip off his spine to the back of his eyes. Something stopped him as he almost collapsed to the floor, an object as solid as a wall. Arms like the prongs on a forklift caught him around both biceps and assisted him in straightening up.

    Turning, Mickie discovered that he was having trouble seeing his helper. The world was a swirling mass of grey, black and white that left him disoriented. Not only that, but his hearing seemed to have fled too. The song, which had been so distinct moments ago, had morphed into a whining mess. Mickie straightened up and took a moment to centre himself. This was just the aftereffects of splitting his mind from his body, it would pass.

    With his eyes closed, the first sense to return to Mickie was sound. It came from all around in the form of a low, insistent hum. There was a rhythm to the noise, not quite a melody but something close to composed.

    ¡®Hey! You listening?¡¯

    The squeaky voice paired with a painful jab in the side of Mickie¡¯s neck. Hissing, the branded man opened his eyes to find a red face inches from his own.

    ¡®Accursed kid. You¡¯re going to drag us both to the abyss one of these days, I swear.¡¯

    Mickie worked his tongue across dry lips.

    ¡®Yeah¡­ right.¡¯

    Now that his eyes were open, the mortal had noticed where the humming was coming from. All around him were Kindle Kin, metal and flesh both, they crowded about the bone cave. Mickie glanced back to find one of the hybrids, arms of dark steel ready to catch the woozy human if he fell again. The giant noticed his attention and made a sound like two spinning sawblades colliding.

    ¡®Thanks.¡¯

    Mickie muttered in response. He had known that his plan was successful, had felt the moment that storm of souls set to opening the way. Yet it was one thing to know, and another entirely to see. A small Kin nearby seemed to take his gaping as distress. It reached a three fingered hand up and gently grasped his arm. Vibrations ran through the singer¡¯s long limb to gently shake Mickie, and there was something soothing to their frequency.

    ¡®Come now, give the Spinner some space.¡¯

    The Kin lowered its arm from Mickie and stepped back beside its peers. Freed from the clutches of the diminutive creature, he turned towards the familiar voice to find the Conductor.

    ¡®You will have to forgive them, Mickie. The Kin owe you much, and it was distressing for them to find you communing with the roots.¡¯

    Still recovering from having his mind split into uncountable pieces, Mickie found himself unable to provide a sensible response. He made to speak, broke into a cough, and tried again.

    ¡®Yeah I¡­ what¡¯s this about roots?¡¯

    The conductor smiled in his general direction.

    ¡®I can imagine you have had quite the experience. Perhaps we should leave this cave before we speak. There are some questions I would have answered and, I¡¯m certain, some I must answer in turn.¡¯

    Mickie gave a vague nod of acquiescence, and the blind leader strode forward towards the cave¡¯s exit. Beside the Kindle Kin was an old man he recognised as Karsus; a supporter of the Kindle Kin Mickie had first met when skulking about the ninth circle. He recalled the aged mortal had wanted him dead after the fight with the Mechanist, and kept a wary eye on him as they walked through the parting Kin.

    The singers hummed at him as he went, but did not crowd or follow as a pair of hybrids led the way out of the cave. They came to a stop in the eerie stone building that marked the entrance to the bone tunnel. It was not the most idyllic place for a chat, but to go any further would put them outside with the moving spines. The Conductor must have put the word out, because apart from the pair of hybrids, no other singers followed them up.

    ¡®Now, if you would be so kind as to answer a few questions?¡¯

    The blind singer spoke with a calm surety that was not at all reflected in Karsus¡¯ craggy features.

    ¡®What kind of fool tries to commune with something like the roots? I¡¯m honestly amazed you lasted long enough for the Kin to drag you back out.¡¯

    Mickie gave the older man an irritated look.

    ¡®I knew what I was doing.¡¯

    From his shoulder there came a sharp scoff. Mickie ignored his partner and continued.

    ¡®There wasn¡¯t time to wait for your song to work on its own.¡¯

    The Conductor patted the air with its three fingered hands.

    ¡®Patience Karsus, I¡¯m sure Mickie had a reason he found suitable for the risk.¡¯

    ¡®Risk.¡¯

    Karsus scoffed.

    ¡®More like certain death.¡¯

    Mickie glared at the ancient mortal, but kept his mouth shut. In truth, Karsus¡¯ words were right on the mark. He had rushed in, banking on his vague status as some kind of key to open the passage. The result had been something completely unexpected, something which almost killed him.

    ¡®Spinner, while I can understand and appreciate the risk you took, it would be good for us to understand why you took it.¡¯

    The Conductor said gently. Mickie sighed, turning from the old man to regard the blind singer.

    ¡®I need your help, and couldn¡¯t afford to wait around for your music to do its thing.¡¯

    ¡®So, you decided to commune with the roots?¡¯

    Mickie shrugged.

    ¡®Seemed a better option than nothing.¡¯

    The singer gave a thoughtful hum, and Karsus used the break in conversation to jump in.

    ¡®You said you needed help?¡¯

    There was a wary glint behind the old man¡¯s eyes that Mickie could not begrudge him. This was going to be a big ask on his part.

    ¡®Yes. I want you to help me in freeing a friend of mine.¡¯

    ¡®And the tower kid, we need to take the tower remember.¡¯

    Miz-Mag squawked into his ear loudly. Mickie disguised the wince his partner¡¯s voice produced by rubbing his face. He had, in fact, purposefully left out the part about taking the tower. Better to take things one step at a time.

    ¡®You know we¡¯re going to need more details than that?¡¯

    Karsus gave him an irritated look, and Mickie hesitated for a moment before responding.

    ¡®A friend of mine is stuck with a bunch of demons in some ruins. I need help getting her out.¡¯

    ¡®Demons, you say, and who exactly are these demons?¡¯

    The Conductor asked. Mickie sighed before responding.

    ¡®Belphegor and the demons that serve it.¡¯

    There was a moment of silence as both Karsus and the Conductor processed that.

    ¡®You mean, the Belphegor. Lord of Sloth, ruler of the Black City in all but name?¡¯

    The old man queried.

    ¡®Yep.¡¯

    Mickie said.

    ¡®He¡¯s taken over the ruins, and I need to help someone get away from him.¡¯

    ¡®Right, and shall we go pin the Sovereign¡¯s head on a spike while we¡¯re at it?¡¯

    Karsus¡¯ voice dripped with sarcasm. Before Mickie could retort, the Conductor raised a placating hand.

    ¡®Calm, old friend, you forget with whom we speak. The Spinner has done much for us, and the Kin will do what they can to assist in turn.¡¯

    The old man spluttered.

    ¡®Come on Con, you can¡¯t really mean¡­¡¯

    ¡®I do mean it, Karsus. Even still, after all this time, you struggle the understand our ways.¡¯

    The blind singer cut off the aged mortal, before turning to Mickie.

    ¡®Then again, that could be said of most humans.¡¯

    While he had not said anything, the branded man was indeed struggling to reconcile the Conductor¡¯s sudden agreement. He had expected that he would need to convince the ancient Kindle Kin. Apparently, he underestimated the goodwill he had stacked up with the three fingered singers.

    ¡®Mickie, I know this must seem odd to you, but you must understand. To my people, you are a Song Spinner. More than your assistance in the palace, more that your help here today, it is the contribution of song which we find so important. By giving us your song, you have provided us with something which we can never repay.¡¯

    The mortal did not know what to say, he was dumbstruck by the straightforward earnestness of the old singer. Karsus seemed more irritated than confused, no doubt knowing this already, but finding it difficult to accept. For all that the Conductor was blind, it seemed to notice Mickie¡¯s surprise.

    ¡®Do not misunderstand me, Mickie. For all that we are grateful, my people will not needlessly sacrifice to save you. We will, however, aid you as much as we are able.¡¯

    An abrupt grinding ascent came from the pair of hybrid guards. The Conductor threw a warm smile their way before returning to the conversation.

    ¡®So, we shall help you in freeing this friend of yours, even if it is from Belphegor. If we are to do so effectively though, we shall require more information.¡¯

    Mickie rubbed the back of his neck, taken aback by the offer of aid.

    ¡®Yeah, I¡­ thank you. What do you need to know?¡¯

    While the Conductor was more than ready to help, Karsus was still not convinced.

    ¡®Well, for starters, how are you even here?¡¯

    He asked, arms folded. Mickie frowned.

    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯

    ¡®I mean, how did you know to come to these ruins? How did you know that this is where we would emerge?¡¯

    Actually, that was a good question. Technically, Miz-Mag had been the first to hear about the ruins, back before the pillar fell. Mickie however, decided to give their second source credit.

    ¡®Oh, right. Ziz told us.¡¯

    There was a long pause.

    ¡®Ziz?¡¯

    Karsus eventually muttered.

    ¡®You mean, the Ziz?¡¯

    Mickie grinned at the old man¡¯s shock.

    ¡®Yeah, big bird, super long, talks like the Conductor does, you know the one. We met it beneath this very circle. It told me to come here to seek help.¡¯

    The old man wavered between disbelief and astonishment, giving the blind singer beside him a chance to interject.

    ¡®Truly, Mickie, you met Ziz?¡¯

    ¡®More than met. That friend I was telling you about, she formed a Soul Binding with it.¡¯

    If the news they had met the primordial produced shock, this next titbit dialled it up to eleven. The air sudden thrummed with an almost physical force as the Conductor reeled backwards. Karsus seemed to be choking on his own spit, coughing and hacking as his eyes bugged out. Around Mickie the air warbled and warped with strange sounds. It took him a second to realise that it was half pronounced words. The Conductor had been hit so heavily by the news that it lost control of its own voice projection.

    ¡®A Soul Binding¡­ with a primordial¡­¡¯

    Karsus was the first to regain his ability to speak. The old man had paled, his arms dropping limp to his sides. On Mickie¡¯s shoulder his little partner chuckled.

    ¡®Blimey kid, I think you broke the pair of them.¡¯

    It took a surprisingly long time for the Conductor to regain control of the air around them. Eventually the warbling and stuttering settled, and the blind singer could speak again.

    ¡®I apologise. It is just¡­ extraordinary. If someone truly has bonded with one of the primordials, I would love to meet them.¡¯

    Mickie smiled.

    ¡®Well, all the more reason to help me out then.¡¯

    The Conductor nodded.

    ¡®Yes, indeed. Just what have you been up in our time apart, Spinner?¡¯

    It was unlike the Kindle Kin¡¯s leader to ask so direct a question. Mickie did not particularly mind however, he had expected this when decided to enlist the aid of the singers. In broad strokes, the branded man covered the events following his ascension from the ninth circle. For once, Karsus seemed content to let him speak without interruption. Even so, Mickie¡¯s tale was long, and by the time he was wrapping up, the strange building was filling with Kindle Kin. Apparently, they had either got tired of waiting or been told to come up.

    ¡®Hmm, I can see why Belphegor is so displeased with you. To have had one of the primordials under its thumb, then to have lost it so suddenly¡­¡¯

    The Conductor¡¯s projected voice was soft, hardly more than a whisper as it mused aloud. On the other hand, Karsus seemed to have regained his earlier gruffness. The old man huffed out a breath and rubbed the grey hairs of his beard.

    ¡®This tower, you mentioned it could serve as a way up?¡¯

    Mickie held back a smile. The Conductor had mentioned that its people came from a higher circle than the ninth. As such, the mortal had guessed they were likely trying to reach that home ground again, and would need to pass through the seventh to do so. So, he had intentionally framed his journey to the tower as a way to secure passage up, leaving out the requirements of Kalistra¡¯s bond. It seemed to have convinced the ever-suspicious Karsus.

    ¡®Ziz said it could, and I believe I found the controls. Belphegor showed up before I could get anything to work though.¡¯

    Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of two other humans. They emerged from the bone tunnel with expressions of relief and immediately beelined for the conversing leaders. Mickie vaguely recognised the pair, but could not place where he had last seen them. A young man and woman, they began to stutter something to Karsus but cut short when they saw Mickie. Something that might have been fear flashed behind their eyes, and the pair took an abrupt, wary step back.

    ¡®Spinner, thank you for humouring us, would you be so kind as to walk with me?¡¯

    The Conductor had noticed the reticent of the new arrivals, and reached a hand out to tug at the sleeve of Mickie¡¯s jacket. Still trying to remember where he had last seen the pair of mortals, the branded man allowed himself to be pulled away.

    ¡®Look at those two. Downright quivering in their boots. You must have made an impression on them back in the palace, aye kid.¡¯

    Miz-Mag snickered. The comment shifted something loose in Mickie¡¯s memory, and he recalled the carnage that led to the Conductor¡¯s freedom. Afterwards Karsus had arrived with that same duo of younger humans in tow. Unlike Miz-Mag, Mickie did not find their fear amusing. Rather, it induced a feeling of dull melancholy. He remembered those expressions from before he had died. For all that Hell was terrible, it had also represented a clean slate for the branded. Yet, here he was again, following the same paths, to the same ends.

    ¡®It is the way for those such as us, Spinner.¡¯

    The three fingered hand on his arm vibrated softly, and Mickie turned to find that conductor sightless eyes upon him.

    ¡®Power allows you to create waves in this realm, but not always see how far and wide they reach.¡¯

    There was a touch of his own sadness in the Conductors voice, and Mickie was reminder just how much it saw for a creature without eyesight.

    ¡®I¡¯ve often found it is best to let the first wave settle before creating another, though at times such a luxury is unafforded to us.¡¯

    Mickie sighed, catching the gist of what the singer was trying to say.

    ¡®Yeah, It¡¯d be nice to not start a new fire every time I breath down here¡­¡¯

    He trailed off as he noticed their heading. Having been distracted by the two humans, Mickie had failed to notice where the Conductor was leading him. They were only a few meters from the building¡¯s exit, and through it, Mickie glimpsed the white of bone.

    ¡®Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down.¡¯

    As he came to a stop the Kindle Kin¡¯s leader did as well. The braded man turned a frown on the blind singer.

    ¡®Did you not hear me say that the bones in this place came to life? They aren¡¯t particularly fast but, uh, you¡¯re blind. Isn¡¯t going out a touch risky?¡¯

    The Conductor smiled softly up at him.

    ¡®I know you danced around the topic with Karsus nearby, Mickie, so I will ask again now. Do you truly know what you did when you communed with the roots?¡¯

    As the branded man hesitated to answer, his grey companion started forward with sudden speed. Before Mickie could grab the Conductor, it was through the door and out into the open. With a curse, he ducked after the blind singer. The fool was going to get itself snatched up.

    He darted through the door and immediately came up short. Only a couple feet away, the Conductor was standing calmly, waiting for him to catch up. But the bone spines, the grasping tendrils of doom, were all rigid. No longer twisting and reaching, each and every bleached spike was pointing straight up, raised as the hairs on Mickie¡¯s arms. The base of the Broken Plateau had turned into a strange facsimile of the bone woods, with branchless trunks sprouting from stone soil.

    ¡®What in the¡­¡¯

    Mickie trailed off, taken aback by the sudden change in the spines.

    ¡®You reckon¡¯ they¡¯re trying to be sneaky or something kid?¡¯

    Miz-Mag murmured from his shoulder, as confused as he was.

    An odd ululating hum sounded from the Conductor, a noise Mickie recognised as laughter.

    ¡®Forgive me, Spinner, I could not resist.¡¯

    The mortal glanced between the Kindle Kin and the rigid bone spines.

    ¡®You knew this was going to happen?¡¯

    ¡®I did. From the moment I saw you communing with the roots, I knew.¡¯

    ¡®But, how?¡¯

    The Conductor smiled in his general direction.

    ¡®I am old Mickie, old enough that I knew what this place once was, and what it has now become.¡¯

    ¡®And that is?¡¯

    ¡®Quite a long tale.¡¯

    The Kindle Kin¡¯s leader glanced back inside to where it¡¯s people still gathered.

    ¡®Though I suppose we can afford time for an abbreviated telling, come.¡¯

    With that, the Conductor turned and began to waddle into the spines. Mickie hurried to catch up, simultaneously wary of the bones and curious as to what the singer had to say.

    ¡®What is now referred to as the bone wood was once a singular entity, a grand tree that occupied the very plateau through which we now walk.¡¯

    A grey hand waved lazily up towards the unseen caver ceiling.

    ¡®That tree was destroyed, cut by a blow that carved this very rent in the rock.¡¯

    Mickie glanced around the ruined city, carved into the walls of the monstrous crack.

    ¡®You mean to say that some cut open the broken plateau? How?¡¯

    ¡®With some serious effort, I daresay.¡¯

    The Conductor replied, and somehow seemed to sense Mickie¡¯s eyeroll.

    ¡®Sorry, sorry, I could not help myself. Sadly, the details of the whom and how of it are lost to time. All that is known to me, is that somebody cut down the giant bone tree, and a city was established where it once stood.¡¯

    Mickie raised no objection to that; the evidence was all around him.

    ¡®This city was one of the earliest to have grasped a foothold on the seventh circle. As you know, the storms here are deadly, and the crack in the plateau offered both shelter and protection from flooding.¡¯

    They weaved between spines as the Conductor spoke, heading goodness knew where.

    ¡®What the denizens of the city did not know, was that the great tree had not died. Entities like that are near impossible to truly destroy, only the abyss itself can extinguish them permanently.¡¯

    Mickie nodded along, thinking of Ziz and its cycle.

    ¡®The great tree had implanted a seed beneath the plateau, a core in which it hid from the being which had cut it. Only, time for the tree did not pass as it might for you and me. For what must have been an instant to the sleeping giant, years past in the city above. Eventually, the residents began to explore downwards, plumb the depths of their cliffside home as space became more precious. In doing so, they uncovered the core of the sleeping tree.¡¯

    The branded man began to grasp the shape the story was taking, and glanced back at the strange building, now partial obscured by bony spines.

    ¡®They worshiped it.¡¯

    He muttered.

    ¡®They did.¡¯

    Replied the Conductor.

    ¡®It was an object of extraordinary power, one resting right beneath the feet of their home. The city¡¯s residents worshiped the sleeping seed, and eventually, communed with it.¡¯

    Mickie started.

    ¡®Like I did?¡¯

    His grey companion nodded.

    ¡®Much the same, though to extraordinarily different effects. You see, the tree had been thinking slowly over what it should do, how it could avoid another attack. It had been strong before, grand, proud, and terrible. Yet it had also been vulnerable, the recent attack had proven that. What the tree needed was a path to survival, and the mind touching its own showed it the way.¡¯

    They appeared to be approaching a wall now, but Mickie hardly noticed, far too engrossed in the Conductor¡¯s tale.

    ¡®It saw, through the eyes of the other mind, a kind of creature that was singularly weak, yet seemed impossible to irradicate. The tree saw these beings die in droves, yet always persist, always persevere. If a single, strong form could fall, then it needed to be multitudinous. It needed to be impossible to eradicate.¡¯

    As the singer closed in upon the end of its story, they also came closer to a destination. Something was taking shape through the white spines, a structure carved into the rock wall.

    ¡®So, finally granted purpose, the seed of the old tree awoke and began to act. It pushed the beyond the communion of minds, ripping the very soul from the body of the one contacting it. The tree spread tendrils of bone through the plateau, seeking more minds, more souls. Some went willingly, happy to join with the being they worshipped. Others fled, taking with them the tale of what occurred here.¡¯

    It looked like they were coming to a set of stairs, broader than those Mickie had seen on the way down. Bone spines littered the walls and floor, but they did not block the way upwards. Instead, bleached tendrils folded in upon themselves, curling away to leave the path open.

    ¡®The tree fractured its own consciousness, splitting it like the storm of souls which it now held. Those same souls became the will of the new entity, a collectively intelligence it even now seeks to expand. One tree became many, expanding to become the bone woods that now litter the seventh circle.¡¯

    The conductor came to a stop beside the stairs.

    ¡®And so, we come to you, Spinner. You communed with the tree as those who worshiped it once did. Only, the old giant is not what it once was. It no longer has a single mind to captain its actions, instead there is the storm of consciousness you experienced.¡¯

    Mickie rubbed his face, still processing the magnitude of what the Conductor had just said. He had seen the bone woods from atop the tower, and they were huge. If what the singer said was true, then that entire forest all came from one place.

    ¡®But, these ruins are in the dunes, how could they be connected to the bone woods?¡¯

    He asked, and the Conductor hummed with a chuckle.

    ¡®Indeed, there is not a tree in sight. Here, we slide from the story into my own personal conjecture. I believe the reborn tree has spread roots all throughout the seventh circle. Vast networks through the stone that connect the bone woods together. It is why Karsus and I referred to this place as the roots.¡¯

    ¡®Right, that makes sense. At least I suppose it does.¡¯

    Mickie nodded and shifted to a more pressing topic.

    ¡®But why tell me all this? I mean, its good stuff, I just don¡¯t see how it¡¯s relevant.¡¯

    The blind singer smiled.

    ¡®I wished to explain to you what happened when you communed with the roots. Intentional or not, you punctured into the storm of souls to carry our song. The collective consciousness shared minds with you for a time, and the result was a message delivered far beyond our best expectations.¡¯

    His companion indicated the stiff spines and open staircase.

    ¡®We did ask it to open the way, after all.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s eyes went wide as he realised what the Conductor was saying. He turned to forest of stiff spines, and idly noted the Kindle Kin were making their way over.

    ¡®You mean, the song did all this?¡¯

    ¡®That is did. Influencing the will of a fractured entity like the bone tree is no small task, and who knows how it will interpret the instructions.¡¯

    The Conductor raised an arm towards its people as they slowly approached.

    ¡®But, that is a concern for another time. I believe we have a desert to cross and a primordial to assist.¡¯

    Mickie looked from the Kindle Kin to the open stairway. At least there would not be any difficulty getting out of the ruins. He planted a foot on the staircase and began to climb.

 30 â€“ Dealing Blind

    Kalistra spent an age alone in the cave. Steam continued to waft around her as blood gurgle below. She realised that when Mickie left, he had taken their light with him. Even so, the cave appeared to be suffused with a dull glow, emanating from the inverted waterfall. With little to do but sit and mope however, she soon wound up laying on the stony floor, eyes closed.

    Ziz had awoken some time ago, and through their bond she sensed that something was wrong in the tower above. It only added to Kalistra¡¯s mounting frustration at her current predicament. The gorgon closed her eyes and fell back onto the uncomfortable floor. Then, quite suddenly, she was no longer in the misty cave. Kalistra¡¯s vision tunnelled through the dark of her own eyelids, and she saw a cavernous expanse. The abrupt brightness was not blinding, for the eyes through which she viewed the world were well adjusted to the light. Dunes rolled below her, waves in a sea of yellow sand. Above, the crystal specked cavern roof was distinct, the gorgon able to make out each craggy facet of rock.

    A laugh bubbled up and echoed into the small cave of gurgling blood. She was flying. Kalistra might not be behind the wheel, but somehow, she had come to see what her newly hatched partner was seeing. The gorgon grinned as Ziz glided through the seventh circle, but the smiled faltered as the bird shifted an eye downwards. It focused on something held in its powerful talons, and Kalistra was dismayed to find Mickie, bloody and beaten in its grasp. She saw Miz-Mag screeching something, though she only had Ziz¡¯s eyes, not its ears.

    The primordial¡¯s attention shifted towards a distant rock, and Kalistra felt her vision narrow as Ziz focused upon it. Even at such a distance, the gorgon saw the smooth surface of a plateau, marred by a jagged, vertical cut. Just like that, any remaining sense of wonder at her newfound sight fled. Ziz was taking Mickie to retrieve the Kindle Kin. That meant whatever awaited her above, it was worse than she had first thought. The gorgon¡¯s mind raced through the possibilities as Ziz began a descent to the sand. Was it Belphegor? The Sovereign? There was no way for her to know.

    Trapped in the underground chamber, all Kalistra could do was watch as her bound companion left Mickie to walk the remaining distance. The reborn primordial took back to the skies, distracting her from the mounting dread. Kalistra did not understand why Ziz had stopped so short from plateau. Then it wheeled about in the air, and she saw. Three dark forms were shooting low across the bone woods, distant even to the avian¡¯s eyes. Flying machines, sent after the fleeing primordial.

    Ziz powered into the air as it headed in the direction of the tower. Her bound partner rose higher and higher as the three vague forms gained the hard edged of dark steel. As was usual with flying machines, their backs were open to the air, and Kalistra made out demons in dark tactical gear. Enforcers, pursuing from where the tower hunched in the distance. Ziz stopped its ascent by latching onto the craggy cavern ceiling.

    Kalistra was caught for a moment, curious of the avian¡¯s plan, until their eyes past over a nearby crystal. The light was downright blinding, and Ziz¡¯s vision flickered as it blinked to clear the dancing colours. That crystal would make them all but invisible on the cavern ceiling.

    It was soon apparent that the demon¡¯s on the fliers had either failed to see Ziz shoot upwards, or were more concerned with capturing Mickie. They did not so much as glance upwards as they neared the avian¡¯s position. The trio were just about underneath her partner when Ziz released its hold on the ceiling. Her vision tunnelled, zeroing in on the frontmost flyer as the primordial rocketed downwards. Ziz moved like a shot from Mickie¡¯s gun, powering itself at such speed that Kalistra swore she could hear the wind ripping by, and feel it pulling at her skin. The flyer loomed large, and she caught a momentary glimpse of a terrified demon before the world became a shuddering mess.

    Kalistra gasped at the impact, and her eyes flew open. She had been almost forcefully ejected from whatever connection linked her sight to Ziz. With her surroundings once more the mist of the blood cave, Kalistra rubbed at her forehead and took a few slow breaths. The serpents atop her scalp coiled in agitation as the gorgon gathered her thoughts, running over what she had just experienced.

    Now she knew what to look for, she could feel the path tying her sight to Ziz¡¯s. It hung ethereal in her soul, begging to be used. A throb from behind her eyes warned Kalistra that restraint might be prudent. As she nursed her headache, the serpentine warrior wondered what had come of Ziz and the three flyers. Feeling along their bond, she did not sense anything negative. The oversized avian had gotten the jump on the enforcers and seemed to know what it was doing. Right now, the one she needed to worry about was herself.

    The gorgon¡¯s impatience at the flooded chamber had shifted to unease. She could make a pretty good guess now as to what awaited in the tower above. It was going to be a rough fight to escape, and one she would have to undergo soon if her ears were not misleading her. Over the edge of the stone pillar the churning of the blood had lost some intensity.

    Kalistra dragged herself up to her feet and stepped over to take a look. The mere fact that she could see the blood through the mist was a sign that things were changing. There was a clear line of red on the stone, about a foot above the current level of the boiling lake. Even as the gorgon watched the blood receded further, and she could see the top of the submerged passage out. Kalistra glanced over at the inverted blood flow, noting how much calmer it was. Each pulse came after a slightly longer interval than the previous, slowing like the heartbeats of a mortal.

    The chamber reverted swiftly, and soon the only sign of the pandemonium prior was a layer of steaming viscera coating every surface. Now that the pathway was open to her, it was likely open to the Enforcers as well. Kalistra hesitated only momentarily at the staircase leading down and away from the central pillar.

    The lake might have retreated, but that did not mean the path was safe. The blood that remained was still hot, and she recalled distinctly how painful it had been for Mickie when he touched some. Except, had Ziz not just been reborn through the boiling lake? If her partner could withstand the strange heat, then surely Kalistra had to have been granted some resistance. Either way, she needed to get moving. Who knew how long it would be until the halls were flooded by demons.

    Gathering herself, the gorgon took a tentative step onto the sticky staircase. Her scaled foot met the blood, and Kalistra immediately yanked the appendage free at the sensation of heat. That had hurt, but not to the extent that it should have. She had resistance, she could do this. Kalistra gritted her teeth and began her escape from the passage.

    She met the first group of demons right by the staircase out. A single squad was guarding the exit, clad in heavy gear to protect against the heat. The moment Kalistra laid eyes upon them she pulled the pin on her stony gaze. The gorgon felt her newly rounded pupils contract into the slits of a serpent as the Enforcers shouted and raised their weapons. Belphegor¡¯s soldiers had come prepared for her, with combat glasses of that strange material that blocked her petrifying gaze.

    They knew they were going to be fighting a gorgon. What they had failed to consider however, was that it was a gorgon who had bonded to a primordial. Demons shouted, stuttered, and went still as their bodies turned to stone, eyes wide behind their protective glasses. Kalistra was equally astonished. Previously she required a powered attack to circumvent the protection. Now though, all she required was a simple glance. Kalistra grinned and surged past the new collection of statues. The gorgon¡¯s savage glee lasted until she stepped off the stairs and into the tower¡¯s open chamber.

    An army was there to greet her. Enforcers crowded the platform before her and catwalks overhead. Easily more than a couple hundred, all with weapons drawn and raised in her direction. At their head stood a demon with deep red skin and a goatee that exaggerated his sinister grin.

    ¡®Hello dear.¡¯

    Belphegor said. Kalistra did not respond. Instead, she called on her power, gathering it to strike as her eyes roved the front ranks of Enforcers. Almost immediately the demons began to cry out and turn to stone, their protection rendered useless before her. Overhead came the crack of gunfire and something hard punched into her right bicep. The gorgon hissed and turned her attention upwards, sweeping the catwalks and catching any fiend foolish enough to look back.

    Belphegor cursed, the demon no longer smiling as it charged her down. Kalistra stumbled back into the cover of the tunnel as she turned to the old lord. With a scream the serpentine warrior released the full force of her empowered attention on it. She felt her power of her soul slam into Belphegor¡¯s and come crashing to an ineffective stop. Then the old lord was on her, and Kalistra had to dance away from a clawed hand as it swept for her throat.

    Desperate, the gorgon gathered her power for another strike, only to feel the weight in the air as Belphegor did something similar. She did not know the technique it deployed to block her power. Illiath had once told her that some demons were simply too strong to be affected. Only, she had gotten stronger now too, and still demons like Belphegor could stop her. Kalistra had felt the force of her strike against her adversaries¡¯ soul, there had been some give. It was possible to break through, she saw that now. Just another attack, stronger than before. Kalistra would shatter Belphegor¡¯s defences, then break through the Enforcers.

    ¡®Rest now, little snake.¡¯

    A weight pressed down upon the serpentine warrior. She was suddenly so very tired. Kalistra lost the hold on her power and staggered as the fatigue hit her. Half dazed, the gorgon failed to notice the blow coming until it had already struck. The pain of it was distant, and deeper fog settled over her. She felt something cool against her cheek and realised it was the steel floor. When had she fallen? Kalistra rolled onto her back and noticed a face was staring down at her. For some reason, their features were fuzzy, and she could not see who it was.

    Strange, Kalistra mused, was she not supposed to have improved vision. The blurry head spoke, yet all the gorgon heard was distant mumbling. She tried to tell them to speak up, but found her tongue was leaden. Whoever it was leant forward, and Kalistra caught the glint of white teeth through the growing haze. For a moment, Belphegor¡¯s face swam into focus, and it was the last thing she saw before the darkness claimed her.

    <hr>

    In her dreams, Kalistra was flying. With feathered wings she glided above the fifth circle, desperately seeking her people. She awoke with the panicked feeling of the lost and found herself chained in darkness. The air was filled with the roar of some terrible beast. It was as if the circle itself was coming down on top of her. Tossing her head about to see the noise¡¯s source, the gorgon soon felt the telltale pull of fabric on skin. She had been blindfolded. Kalistra almost laughed at the realisation. Trying to cover a gorgon¡¯s eyes with something as mundane as cloth was foolish. It took a bit of effort, but she managed impose her will upon her own serpentine hair. The snakes that crowned every gorgon¡¯s head were unruly, each with a mind of its own. That being said, they were also a part of her. The same blood that flowed through her veins kept the small seprpents alive. There was a connection between them, an intermingling of the soul that allowed her to exert some control.

    It took the snakes less than a minute to work the blindfold free. The strip fell to the floor and Kalistra was greeted with the sight of a plain room. She could find no source to the ceaseless roar that even now made her sinuses ache with its teeth clenching intensity. The look of the space reminded her of the tower, and the gorgon doubted Belphegor would have had time to move her far. This was probably some upper level of the squat structure.

    Having gotten her bearings, Kalistra decided it was time to make her escape. The chains encasing each of her limbs were strong, but she could turn sturdy metal to brittle stone. It was when Kalistra began to gather her power that she became aware of the collar about her neck. A loose and seemingly lightweight section of metal, it began to shift as she drew upon her soul. The steel tightened like a noose and soon it was crushing her airways. Kalistra gagged and tried to choke down air, thrashing in her chains as her power slipped from her grasp.

    Suddenly, she could breathe again, and the gorgon sagged as she heaved down desperate lungfuls of air. Her throat felt misshapen, and seemed incapable of getting enough oxygen into her system. By the time Kalistra¡¯s breathing had slowed she was a mess of tears and saliva. The gorgon wiped her face clean on her sleeve and glanced up to find two faces peering in from the door to her room. A pair of demon guards, obviously stationed outside her makeshift cell. Her retching had been so violent that it had overcome the ongoing roar to draw their attention. Now they stared, wide eyed and the kneeling gorgon, a mistake if ever there was one.

    Kalistra met the eyes of both guards in turn and felt a grim satisfaction as their features shifted to dead stone. The collar was clearly preventing her from drawing on her soul, but her usual gaze did not require such power.

    Following her petrification of the two enforcers, Kalistra spent hours with nothing but that incessant roar for company. Eventually, she noticed a drop in volume and a minute reduction in the vibration of the tower. Over the next few minutes, the sound gradually faded until all that remained was the ringing in her ears. Kalistra contemplated calling on her power again, but was concerned the steel chocker would tighten even further at another attempt. Even so, the empty quiet was getting to her, and she was on the verge of acting when footsteps echoed from outside her room.

    A terribly familiar demon in a suit of dark scales stepped into the doorway. Belphegor gave each of the stone guard a sour look before shoving them aside. The lord stepped into her prison, the sound of breaking stone masking his footsteps.

    ¡®I must apologise for keeping you waiting, that blood storm held me up. Managed to get stuck on a higher level, if you can believe that.¡¯

    Kalistra had guessed that she might have been hearing a blood storm, and was unsurprised when Belphegor confirmed her suspicions. The fiend adjusted its sleeves and cast a wicked grin her way.

    ¡®I¡¯m glad you took the time to wait for me, my dear. We have so very much to discuss.¡¯

    Kalistra swallowed dryly.

    ¡®I have nothing to say to you, Belphegor.¡¯

    The lord of sloth chuckled darkly.

    ¡®How very unexpected.¡¯

    It said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

    ¡®You and that little enigma are two of a kind, always biting the hand which feeds.¡¯

    With a speed which belied its title, Belphegor crossed the room and grasped Kalistra by the chin. Instinctively the gorgon reached for her power, and the steel about her neck began to tighten. Swiftly, she relinquished the amorphous force and gasped for air as the chocker let her breathe. Belphegor smirked as Kalistra hissed in air about his palm.

    ¡®Normally, I prefer cordiality to violence, but I fear time has limited my options.¡¯

    A clawed finger on the demon¡¯s free hand hooked the collar of Kalistra¡¯s shirt and began to pull it downwards. The gorgon grasped Belphegor¡¯s arm with both of her own, but the lord¡¯s strength was obscene. Without even the appearance of effort it revealed the space of skin above her heart and the scars inscribed there.

    ¡®You have taken what is mine.¡¯

    Belphegor hissed, voice dead as the ice of ninth circle.

    ¡®I will give you one chance, and one chance only to answer willingly. Do you understand?¡¯

    Kalistra gritted her teeth and glared at her captor. With casual ease, the lord released her shirt, reached up, and tore a handful of snakes from her head. The pain was sudden and intense. Her serpents were more than just hair, they were a part of her. All she could do was watch as Belphegor held them up; a bloody, writhing collection of trophies. It closed its red hand about them and squeezed until viscera dripped from between its fingers and her serpents were limp and lifeless.

    ¡®Do you understand?¡¯

    This time Belphegor emphasised each word, and Kalistra clenched her eyes as the snakes atop her head writhed.

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    The word vomited from her before she could restrain it.

    ¡®Good.¡¯

    Abruptly, Belphegor released her chin and turned away as Kalistra slumped against the wall.

    ¡®Let us start with a something simple. What are the terms of your contract with Ziz, and, what is the identity of the mortal with whom you travel?¡¯

    Kalistra swallowed and tried to get her breathing under control. Belphegor did not know what Mickie was doing. She just needed to hold out until he returned, then they would kill this accused fiend with the help of the Kindle Kin. The old lord sighed when she failed to provide a response.

    ¡®This is my final warning. Speak.¡¯

    The gorgon gritted her teeth. She would give the old lord nothing.

    ¡®I want you to remember that I gave you the opportunity to talk. What happens now is no fault of mine.¡¯

    With a sad shake of its head, Belphegor reached into its jacket and removed a box. Small enough to hold in one hand, it looked to be made of carved bone. Her captor slid the lid free and scooped out something grey and slick. After also removing a small, rune inscribed section of metal, Belphegor pocketed the box and returned its attention to her. The lord held up its hand, providing her with a clear view of a distinctly disturbing creature.

    The thing was slimy, with a long bulbous body. It had rows of limbs that might have been legs, except that Kalistra could make out hands at the end of each. Fingers grasped as if to seize the open air, reaching out, reaching towards her. Belphegor began to approach, and the small monster seemed to sense that Kalistra was growing closer. It¡¯s grey body twisted and a head peeked out from the glistening mass. No eyes or visible ears, only a single, large mouth, filled with pointed teeth. Without realising it, Kalistra had begun to back away from Belphegor and its disturbing pet. Her back bumped up against the wall and she swallowed down a growing sense of dread.

    ¡®It always surprises me, the reaction my little fried here produces. So small, yet able to produce such visceral distaste in whoever lays eyes upon it.¡¯

    Kalistra mastered herself, straightening to stare down the approaching lord. Belphegor only chuckled at her.

    ¡®I¡¯m going to go ahead and assume you don¡¯t know what this is, seeing as if you did, you would not be so calm.¡¯

    A sinister smile played across the demon¡¯s face.

    ¡®What I hold here is a little monster we have taken to calling a Pain Eater. It is found extraordinarily rarely in the sixth circle, deep within the labyrinth.¡¯

    The lord tossed and caught the piece of rune inscribed metal.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡®Hearing that name, you might be thinking to yourself that I am being overdramatic and exaggerating for the sake of a little showmanship. Well, my dear, let me assure you; I most certainly am not.¡¯

    As it grew closer, more of the Pain Eater¡¯s eery leg arms rose in Kalistra¡¯s direction, the hands opening and closing with an almost infantile need.

    ¡®The name is quite literal. This creature eats pain, if you can believe it. Same as all us unfortunates of Hell, it does not need sustenance to survive, oh no. It is simply spawned with an intrinsic need to do harm, desires it like you and I might desire a warm cup of cocoa.¡¯

    The grotesque length of flesh abruptly shifted from Belphegor¡¯s palm. It moved up and circled about the lord¡¯s forearm. Once the Pain Eater was settled, her captor reached out almost gently and grasped Kalistra¡¯s bicep. The gorgon recoiled from the demon, attempting to avoid its touch. Only she was chained and had her back to the wall, there was no where she could run.

    Belphegor clasped her arm, and the Pain Eater crawled onto her skin, right were the scales gave way to smoother flesh. The feeling of it upon her was nauseating. Multitudes of hands pinched and pulled, cold and slick. Its head gasped with a sound that might have been delight, and pressed hard up against her.

    Kalistra tried to swat the thing off with her free arm. Rip it free and trample it. Kill it so she no longer had to feel the grasp of those hands, the icy grunts of breath on her skin. Belphegor had been expecting such a reaction, however. Like it was grasping an irritating tree branch, the old lord caught her other arm near the shoulder and snapped it like dried wood.

    The pain was immediate and clarifying. It was the kind of injury she had received more times than she could count in the arena, and only served to stoke her sputtering anger. Grunting, the gorgon stared down her captor, setting aside the feeling of the Pain Eater against her skin. Belphegor noticed her shift in attention. The lord took a step back from her, chuckling low and rubbing the rune coated metal with a thumb.

    ¡®Ah, there¡¯s the fire that served the late Illiath so well. You will have to forgive me for the damage done to your arm, I cannot have you harming my little pet now, can I?¡¯

    Kalistra hissed air through her teeth but said nothing. Already she could feel the bone shifting under her skin, beginning to repair itself.

    ¡®Now listen closely, for what I am about to tell you is important. This piece of metal.¡¯

    Belphegor held up the rune inscribed scrap for her to see. In her brief glimpse Kalistra caught the symbols for Binding and Pain among the mess carved into its surface.

    ¡®This little thing is tied to another, embedded within the very creature now looped so lovingly about your arm. Through an extensive process of training, I have taught the Pain Eater to obey any commands communicated to it through this metal. That means, and this is the important part, only I can make it stop. Tell me the terms of your contract with Ziz and the identity of the mortal and I will, understand?¡¯

    The pain of her arm smouldered in Kalistra like a hot coal.

    ¡®I¡¯m going to destroy you.¡¯

    Belphegor gave her a charming smile.

    ¡®If you say so, my dear. Shall we get started?¡¯

    The lord did not wait for a response as the runes on the metal flared brightly for a moment. Kalistra gritted her teeth as the Pain Eater let out a gurgle of delight. She could handle pain. She only needed to hold out until Mickie got here with the Kin. She could do it. The Pain Eater bit into the skin of her upper arm. Kalistra hissed out a gasp, but held onto her resolve.

    Then the monster bit again, and again. Its hands reached out, reached into her. It started to burrow under the flesh of her upper arm. Pain unlike anything Kalistra had ever felt assailed her. Icy spikes through her nerves that drove rational thought from her like animals before a wildfire. She screamed as she never had before. Her arm bulged grotesquely as the Pain Eater tunnelled into her flesh.

    Kalistra could feel it¡¯s little hands on the muscle of her bicep, grabbing, pulling, tearing. Desperately, she tried to keep a hold of her reason, remember why she had to endure. Then the Pain Eater wormed its way onto her bone. It started gnawing on tendons, causing the gorgon¡¯s arm to jerk uncontrollably. Kalistra tried to claw at her skin, but only succeeded in grinding the bones of her broken arm.

    Perhaps she could lie. Say something believable enough that Belphegor would call of its creature. Only, everything hurt too much. She could not think straight. The Pain Eater was closing on her shoulder now, working its way up. What would happen if it went for her head? Or if its chewed on her heart? Kalistra folded in upon herself and moaned. It was too much. All too much.

    The gorgon¡¯s resolve cracked, and a hidden switch flipped in the back of her brain. She did not cry, did not beg. She reverted. The waking mind fled from the pain and the serpent reared up to take its place. Kalistra drew on her power, and the chocker tightened about her neck. Breathing became difficult, then impossible, yet still she drew. Bones creaked and flexed, yet she drew. Stars behind her eyes, driven mad from the pain, Kalistra coiled her power and struck at her own arm.

    With the choker about to snap her neck, the bare minimum force for an attack hit her upper bicep and turned the flesh to stone. It continued on, shifting half the Pain Eater before catching a good portion of bone too. Kalistra collapsed, unable to even gag as what remained of the creature inside her went ballistic. If the pain before had been a hot iron on her flesh, this was getting dipped into the fire itself.

    She could not scream, could do nothing but writhe as her arm was ripped to pieces from within. So uncontrolled was her agony that Kalistra managed to shatter the portion of her arm that had turned to stone. The Pain Eater was torn free from her body and coiled in its death throws within a growing pool of her blood. Half stone, the living portion of the monster was as good as gone.

    Kalistra did not notice or care, too caught up in the ecstasy of relief, carried by the fading waves of consciousness. Now that the agony was over, the gorgon was feeling so very distant from herself. She could not breath, could not think, could not move. But the pain was gone, at least the pain was gone.

    The pressure on her neck suddenly lifted, and almost by reflex, Kalistra sucked in a breath. She struggled for air through a windpipe that was crushed almost beyond functionality. Awareness of her own body returned as a series of dull throbbing in her extremities. Her arm had the worst of it, a mess of ragged stone and flesh that oozed blood. Kalistra blinked the water out of her eyes, lifting her head to meet the gaze of Belphegor.

    The lord of sloth had her pinned upright against the wall, one hand pressed to the collar about her neck. For the first time since she had glimpsed the demon outside her cell in the arena, Belphegor looked truly angry. The casual joviality was gone, replaced by a storm that darkened the demon¡¯s features but buoyed Kalistra¡¯s aching soul. To see this accursed creature actually loose itself was a balm for the pain she now felt.

    ¡®I should have let the collar take your head off.¡¯

    Belphegor spoke slowly, anger colouring every word.

    ¡®Killing my pet, refusing to speak, you are lucky I wish to obtain Ziz.¡¯

    Kalistra realised that the old lord had been worried her death would impact the avian primordial. It was right, there was a high chance that if her soul were to fall into the abyss, Ziz¡¯s would follow. Such was the danger of a binding like theirs. Kalistra tried to say something, to goad the furious demon, but all she could manage was a weak croak. Belphegor sighed, the fury fading to be replaced with grim resolve as it regarded the dead Pain Eater.

    ¡®You know, I wished to study those eyes of yours. I can tell your contract with Ziz has impacted them in some way, and I was eager to find out how. Only, I am now discovering, that they are more trouble than they¡¯re worth.¡¯

    The fiend twisted slightly and flexed the clawed not pinning her to the wall.

    ¡®It would be better, I think, if we were rid of them.¡¯

    Still recovering from the recent suffocation, her mind was too slow to register the words. They landed home as Belphegor¡¯s claws closed upon her face. Kalistra learned then, that even through her crushed windpipe, she could still manage a good scream.

    <hr>

    Ziz flew like a fire was burning its hide. The primordial rocketed through the desert cavern, desperately trying to reach the distant tower. It¡¯s silent observer watched on through the eyes of her bound partner, and knew she was the source of the avian¡¯s urgency.

    Just as Kalistra could sense the big bird through their bond, it too could sense her. The recent pain and fear had driven Ziz into a frenzy, and all Kalistra could do was watch as it rushed towards Belphegor and the enforcers. The gorgon had attempted to communicate with her partner, to tell it to stay hidden and wait for Mickie. Nothing seemed to work. She might be able to see through Ziz¡¯s eyes, but that was all she could do.

    A stab of pain made the image wobble, and Kalistra had to restrain a wave of hopeless grief. She had turned to the connection with the primordial, because it was all she could do. Belphegor had taken her eyes, ripped them straight out of her skull after she destroyed the demon¡¯s pet. To a gorgon, the eyes were all. More than just a way to see the world, they were a blessing and a curse, the source her kind¡¯s most deadly power. And now they were gone.

    The image of Ziz¡¯s flight quaked, and Kalistra fell away as she lost focus. The gorgon fell back into herself, to the eternal darkness that was her world. Belphegor had left after maiming her, the lord seemingly tired of trying to wrench answers from the battered gorgon. Kalistra had spent the time since alone, but for the pain that radiated through her whole body.

    In particular, her arm and neck were the worst off. Picking the stone out of her wound before it was healed inside had been an ordeal. It did leave Kalistra with a spark of hope though. The gaping hole in her body was closing at a remarkable rate. If her body could manage that, then perhaps it could repair her eyesight. So far however, she had noticed no changes. The darkness remained, and Kalistra felt utterly hopeless within it.

    Through the fog of pain and despair, it had taken her longer than it should have to recall her new link to Ziz. With that, she would at the very least be able to see something. She was discovering that seeing through the primordial¡¯s eyes required focus however, and that was something her battered body was reluctant provide.

    The sound of footsteps approaching her room drew Kalistra from her revery. She drew herself up as best she could, preparing to strike out at anything that approached her. It was not the first time. Not long after she had lost her eyes, a couple of enforcers had the bright idea to taunt old Stone Eye. After all, what was gorgon without her killer gaze. Kalistra was sure their bodies were still in the room somewhere, as she had heard nothing since. Upon reaching the doorway the footsteps came to a stop, punctuated by a soft and weary sigh.

    ¡®Assigned to guard you and they get themselves killed. Sometimes I wonder why we aren¡¯t already in charge. The propensity for stupidity within demon kind astounds me more with each passing day.¡¯

    The voice was feminine, textured with the rasp of age. Kalistra coiled like a snake against the wall. Whoever this was, if they were willing to speak it would only make them an easier target for her.

    ¡®If it wasn¡¯t for those bothersome powers¡­¡¯

    Another sigh. Kalistra waited for the speaker to get within the range of her chains.

    ¡®When Mickie turned up, I knew the time to act was approaching. The Soul Lord must truly have been insane to juice that boy up with powers.¡¯

    Kalistra started. They had just mentioned her companion by name. As far as the gorgon was aware, none of the demons within the black city had ever figured out who he was.

    ¡®You know him?¡¯

    Her voice was wet and raw, closer to the growl of a wounded animal than anything human.

    ¡®Ah, you caught that, did you. Yes, I know who Mickie is, and who he was. That is the very reason I have come to see you.¡¯

    ¡®And who are you?¡¯

    ¡®Me? I¡¯m your best bet of slipping those chains and finding your people.¡¯

    Kalistra jumped at the mention of her tribe.

    ¡®Come now, your deal with Illiath was an open secret at best.¡¯

    From what the gorgon knew that was most certainly not the case. Her old master had dealt lethally with any rumours of their contract. Illiath had been the last descendant of Lillith, and that made the demon more paranoid than anyone Kalistra had ever met. Her mysterious visitor seemed to sense her scepticism, because they gave a small chuckle.

    ¡®I¡¯ve had my eye on you for some time Kalistra. You were one of the few beings I thought might be capable of achieving what I need.¡¯

    In a few sentences, this stranger had Kalistra more willing to open up than Belphegor had managed with a mountain of pain. The gorgon was aware of this fact, knew that the bait dangled before her was hooked with barbed steel. Even so, she found herself unable to resist a nibble.

    ¡®And that is?¡¯

    She did not get an answer right away. Instead, the visitor took a couple of steps into her cell and did, something. It was hard for the gorgon to describe. The air about her rippled and seemed to firm for a moment before returning to normal. Immediately Kalistra was on edge, prepared again to strike out at the unseen figure.

    ¡®Relax, would you. It¡¯s just a sound barrier. You might have dealt with the guards, but I can¡¯t have anyone overhearing us by chance.¡¯

    The room had already had something of a tinnie echo to it. Now though, it was far more pronounced, like the walls were putting effort into bouncing the sound back.

    ¡®Sound barrier?¡¯

    ¡®Yes girl, try to keep up. Sound barrier. Can¡¯t be overheard. I thought Transcribers were supposed to be smart?¡¯

    ¡®You know I¡¯m a Transcriber?¡¯

    ¡®Of course I do, did I not just tell you that I had you under consideration?¡¯

    Kalistra frowned. She could tell when someone was speaking in circles, and was in no mood to play along. Instead, the gorgon fell silent, waiting for her visitor to speak. It did not take long for the individual to clear their throat with a rasp.

    ¡®Sorry, yes, you probably don¡¯t feel like beating around the bush. Mik used to get frustrated like that too.¡¯

    The gorgon¡¯s ears perked but she did her best to hide the fact. Mik was a nickname, which indicated a level of familiarity with the mortal. Just who was this visitor?

    ¡®Down to brass tax, then. I have come to you with an offer. Not a deal like the demons are so obsessed with, but an exchange. A transaction where we both get what we want.¡¯

    Kalistra frowned, and here empty eyes stung at the movement. She had heard a similar request before, back when Mickie came to her in the spire.

    ¡®Enough talk.¡¯

    She rasped.

    ¡®Tell me what you want.¡¯

    ¡®Very well.¡¯

    The stranger sighed dramatically.

    ¡®I will grant you your freedom and aid you as I am able. In return, I want you to kill Belphegor.¡¯

    The words echoed into silence as Kalistra stood, speechless. Then, without meaning to, she started to laugh. Pain flared at the exertion, and the gorgon doubled over, gasping for breath. Her empty eyes watered, and the liquid stung as it ran across her raw skin.

    ¡®Anything else? Shall I also kill the Sovereign while I¡¯m at it?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not joking, Kalistra.¡¯

    The visitor¡¯s voice was flat and serious.

    ¡®Of course, you do not lie, you simply wish for me to die.¡¯

    ¡®Die? Kalistra, I have seen you fight; I know how strong you are. Since then, you have made a deal with Ziz, which has no doubt granted you even more power.¡¯

    Kalistra sighed.

    ¡®In case you did not notice, Belphegor has taken my eyes from me.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, I noticed. The old bastard showed them to me like a trophy. Nasty work.¡¯

    ¡®And yet you still think I can be useful?¡¯

    Her visitor paused, seeming to think for a time.

    ¡®Girl, I do not think you understand what it means when I say I had you under consideration. I have researched you, your tribe, your late mother, your people way back to stinkin¡¯ Medusa. If there is something to know about the gorgons, then I know it.¡¯

    Kalistra was taken aback by not only the heat with which this stranger spoke, but also the indicated breadth of their research.

    ¡®I probably know more about your kind than you do. So, tell me, do you think that in the history of the gorgons, you are the first to lose their eyes?¡¯

    Kalistra hunch in on herself. It had been so long since she had a lecture like this, and it filled her with an irrational sense of petulance.

    ¡®I imagine not. The curse of my kind can be a burden some are unable to bear.¡¯

    ¡®Exactly. From what I found, gorgons were always pulling their own eyes out. A touch dramatic, but there you have it.

    The serpentine warrior grew irritated at that.

    ¡®Did you have a point? Or are you just going to insult my people?¡¯

    ¡®Insult? Girl, I am trying to instruct. Did your tribe ever tell stories of Typhlopidia?¡¯

    Kalistra frowned. That sounded like the name of a gorgon, though not one she had heard before.

    ¡®Are they one of my kind?¡¯

    ¡®So, you haven¡¯t heard of her. Not surprising, I¡¯d say the last thing your elders want is over eager gorgons pulling their own eyes out. Anyway, Typhlopidia was indeed a gorgon like yourself, one who by all accounts was blind as a bat. The strange thing was, she apparently fought like she had eyes in the back of her head. A demon on the battlefield, or so they say.¡¯

    A blind gorgon that could see? While Kalistra had never heard of this Typhlopidia, that was not surprising. Her people were insular within their tribes, and this rumoured gorgon cold have easily come from another. The point about her being a warrior though¡­

    ¡®How did she do it? How could she fight like she had eyes?¡¯

    ¡®Haven¡¯t a clue.¡¯

    Anger bubbled up in the gorgon, but before she could curse the visitor for getting her hopes up, the old voice continued.

    ¡®But one thing I¡¯ve learnt since coming to Hell, is that crazy shit just happens here. You¡¯re a smart girl, and a gorgon at that, you figure it out. You¡¯ll have until Mickie gets back to make yourself useful.¡¯

    The furious tirade that had been building slipped away from Kalistra with a weary sigh. Nothing was ever easy.

    ¡®Either way, it isn¡¯t a huge deal if you can see or not.¡¯

    The stranger continued.

    ¡®You aren¡¯t the only horse I¡¯ll be backing in this race.¡¯

    ¡®I have not yet agreed to help you.¡¯

    Kalistra muttered.

    ¡®Oh, don¡¯t be obstinate, girl. I¡¯m your best chance of escaping this mess.¡¯

    The gorgon knew she should object but let herself fall silent. She should not trust this stranger, yet what choice did she have? If Kalistra had the chance to escape these chains, then she would take it.

    ¡®So, you shall release me?¡¯

    ¡®If you agree to my conditions, I¡¯ll come get you when the time is right. We¡¯ll need to wait until Mik returns from wherever that bird of yours took him.¡¯

    Kalistra swallowed what little saliva she had worked up during the conversation. She wished more than anything that she could see who this stranger was. Perhaps if she could see them, then she could gauge their honesty. The gorgon took a moment, running through the options of who it might be. From they way they spoke, it was clear that they were a mortal, and a physically older one at that. Then it clicked.

    ¡®Everything alright? You¡¯ve gone awfully quiet.¡¯

    The visitor asked, her voice coming from closer by.

    ¡®You¡¯re the woman. Belphegor¡¯s second.¡¯

    The pieces were all there, Kalistra was surprised it had taken her this long to put it together.

    ¡®Ah, you figured it out. I am indeed the prized pet of our slothful lord. Now, about or agreement¡­¡¯

    ¡®Wait.¡¯

    The gorgon cut her visitor off.

    ¡®What possible reason could you have for wanting Belphegor dead? I thought it treated you rather well.¡¯

    A long silence followed her question, and Kalistra waited nervously for a response. She did not want to lose this opportunity for escape. Yet, neither could she risk blindly following someone who supposedly served her enemy.

    ¡®A reason¡­¡¯

    The woman said at length.

    ¡®Does any human need a reason to kill a demon? We are cattle to your kind, meat for the machine. What mortal wouldn¡¯t grasp at a chance to strike back?¡¯

    Kalistra frowned. Belphegor¡¯s second spoke with confidence, but her answer felt flimsy. The old woman had probably sent just as many humans to the abyss as any demon in the name of her master.

    ¡®Don¡¯t lie to me. You don¡¯t care about the other mortals.¡¯

    Her visitor rasped out a low chuckle.

    ¡®No, but it sounded good, didn¡¯t it? The sort of thing Mik might say.¡¯

    ¡®And you? Why would you kill your benefactor?¡¯

    Another pause, before the old woman eventually sighed.

    ¡®Look girl, some things need to stay quiet. I¡¯d tell you, but then you might tell Belphegor, and suddenly all I¡¯ve worked for is up in smoke. It¡¯ll be bad enough if you spill that we¡¯ve had this conversation.¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s empty sockets ached, and she had to stop her lips from parting in a snarl.

    ¡®You really won¡¯t tell me?¡¯

    ¡®No, I will not.¡¯

    ¡®Then how am I supposed to trust a thing you say?¡¯

    She shouted, frustration and pain stoking her temper.

    ¡®You offer me help, you, who serves Belphegor. How am I supposed to trust that this isn¡¯t some trick, some way to get information from me?¡¯

    She wanted more than anything to simply agree with this strange mortal, to avenge herself upon Belphegor even if it meant her death. Yet, to believe and then fall short. Kalistra was not sure she could take it, not after losing her eyes, after being free only to once again wind up in chains.

    ¡®You¡¯ll trust because that¡¯s the only option you have. Because if you don¡¯t Belphegor will get another one of those damned Pain Eaters into you, and you¡¯ll spill everything anyway.¡¯

    It took a few moments for the tone of the woman¡¯s reply to breach the gorgon¡¯s anger. It was cold and dead as the abyss. That realisation drained Kalistra of her panic faster than the deepest of breaths. There was something in what her visitor had just said, the off handed comment that she would spill everything anyway. If this really was Belphegor¡¯s second, then she had already told Kalistra enough to doom herself.

    Would someone like that really just walk away if she refused the offer? Clearly the woman had schemes that did not include Kalistra, plans which had remained secret for some time. You did not keep secrets like those without being willing to tie up a few loose ends. Suddenly, the Gorgon was very aware of the two guards she had killed, laying somewhere nearby. She thought about how easy it would be to make it looked like they had killed her and died for their troubles.

    Kalistra swallowed, glad for the first time that she did not have eyes with which to give herself away. This deal was not take it or leave it, as Mickie¡¯s had been in the spire. No, this deal was take it or die, and the one offering was beginning to think she might flake out.

    ¡®Time¡¯s running out girl. You going to help? Or do I leave you for Belphegor?¡¯

    Kalistra took a steadying breath. Rather than being sceptical at the offer itself, she was wary of accepting it too readily. To jump at the chance now might make the old woman suspicious.

    ¡®I¡¯ll help you, under one condition.¡¯

    She settled on the middle ground of acquiescent but not overeager, and held back a sigh of relief when her visitor replied.

    ¡®Quite an overreach for someone blind and in chains, but let¡¯s hear it.¡¯

    ¡®You seem so sure I¡¯ll be of use, and that Mickie will return to the tower. I want to know why. If you won¡¯t give me your reason for killing Belphegor, then give me this.¡¯

    There was a long silence following her request, and for a moment Kalistra thought the visitor might not answer. That the next thing she would feel was a bullet through the head. Holding herself steady, the blind gorgon awaited her answer.

    ¡®Very well.¡¯

    The stranger said at length, and tension bled from Kalistra¡¯s body. She was safe for now.

    ¡®To the first part, if you can figure out some alternative for eyesight, great. If not, you¡¯ll make an effective distraction. I do have more than one horse in this race after all.¡¯

    The gorgon nodded. Being a distraction was a more convincing outcome than having her actually kill Belphegor.

    ¡®And as for Mik¡­¡¯

    Her visited gave a long, weary sigh.

    ¡®I know he¡¯ll come back because I know him. Better than anyone ever has. That boy is like a puppy that¡¯s been kicked one to many times.¡¯

    That was not how Kalistra would have described the branded mortal, but she held her silence. Something had entered the stranger¡¯s voice as she spoke of Mickie, a deep emotion the gorgon could not place.

    ¡®All he wants is a friend, but the world we lived in taught him the danger of trust. I taught him¡­¡¯

    There was a sound, the rustle of fabric on skin, or maybe just the shake of a head.

    ¡®It doesn¡¯t matter. All you need to know is that Mickie has seemingly decided you are part of his little pack. That means he¡¯ll be coming back to try and free you.¡¯

    There came a small click from the direction of the stranger and the air began to warble. Clearly the conversation was reaching its end.

    ¡®As for how I know so much about Mik. It¡¯s rather simple.¡¯

    Kalistra could hear the smile returning to the old voice.

    ¡®What kind of sister would forget her kid brother.¡¯

    The sound barrier twisted and fell apart.

    ¡®I¡¯ll come get you when it¡¯s time, try to find a way to be useful by the time I do.¡¯

 31 â€“ The Calm Before

    Deep in the sands of the seventh circle squatted a rocky formation. Flat along the top with a sheer crack running down its centre, the broken plateau housed ruins of a long dead city. From the shadowed recesses of this forgotten place, a line of figures trailed out into the dunes, winding towards a blocky building. At the head of this procession walked three figures, two mortals flanking an old singer with milky white eyes.

    Mickie¡¯s thoughts were on what the Conductor had told him as they climbed out of the carved city. Of the Kindle Kin¡¯s plan to reach their original homes on the fourth circle. At first, he had been rather annoyed that the singers withheld the information from him back in the palace. It would have been nice to have skipped the eighth circle as they had. Yet, after thinking about it for a time, he could not hold it against them. After that final fight with the Mechanist, he and Miz-Mag had been eager to leave the palace behind. Even if the Kin had offered him an alternate path, he likely would have made his own way regardless. Mickie was self-aware enough to see this and look past his irritation with the Conductor. The same could not be said for the little demon upon his shoulder.

    ¡®Hell blighted, wrinkly old bat. Kid, you sure you can¡¯t just give him one blast. Just one little time.¡¯

    The branded man sighed heavily at his partner¡¯s outrage. Miz-Mag had been going on like that since the Kindle Kin¡¯s leader had finished its story, and it was beginning to get annoying.

    ¡®Give it a rest, would you.¡¯

    ¡®Give it a rest? Those wrinkly bastards made us crawl through the city. Belphegor wouldn¡¯t be on our tail if it weren¡¯t for them.¡¯

    The demon spat. Mickie did not get a chance to reply as his murmuring had caught the Conductor¡¯s attention.

    ¡®What was that, Spinner?¡¯

    ¡®Uh, nothing. Talking to myself.¡¯

    He cast a glance at the blind singer and did a double take. The old Kindle Kin looked worse for wear, with skin glistening and sagging under the intense cavern light. For that matter, it was not just the Conductor who was feeling the heat. Karsus was walking nearby, clothes damp with sweat and steps heavy across the sandy dunes.

    ¡®Are you two alright?¡¯

    The old man threw an irritated look in his direction and grunted as the singer gave a low, grumbling hum.

    ¡®The desert is not so kind to us as it is to you, Mickie. It is curious that you can resist the heat of the seventh so well.¡¯

    The branded man shrugged. It was strange seeing how someone without his powers faired.

    ¡®Comes with the demon power package.

    ¡®Must be nice.¡¯

    Karsus grumbled, and Mickie smirked at the old man, receiving a glare in return. To the relief of his overheated companions, they soon came upon the silent building. The Conductor and Karsus did not hesitate to head right inside, but Mickie paused at the busted entrance. He glanced back at the train of Kin and humans following in their wake. Even from a distance he could see the sway in a few steps, and glint of water against skin. Turning back to the outpost, he figured there was not nearly enough space to house the whole group. It was going to be a rough wait for those stuck outside.

    The entrance to the building was caked in dried blood that flaked and cracked as he walked through the damaged doors. Within the air was heavy with the scent of death, and Mickie found his two allies standing by the still form of a guard. The Kindle Kin did not seem particularly fazed by the carnage on display, but Karsus tossed a disgruntled look his way.

    ¡®You couldn¡¯t have cleaned up after yourself?¡¯

    Mickie shrugged and stepped past the body, heading deeper into the outpost.

    ¡®I was a little busy at the time. Come on, it¡¯s over this way.¡¯

    The branded man led the duo through the small network of halls and into a large room. The hangar was just as Mickie remembered it, an open space with some supplies neatly stacked in the corner. Resting before a tall rolling door, awaited their transport back to the tower.

    The idea had fallen into place like the final piece of a puzzle, coming to the branded man on his trek out of the city. He had flown most of the way to the plateau with the help of Ziz. The big bird had left him here, however, and that meant he would have to walk all the way back. Mickie was unwilling to waste that much time. The blood storm and his assisting of the Kin had taken long enough, he needed to get back and help his companions.

    It was then that he had remembered the large flying device stashed in the Sovereign¡¯s outpost. If they could fly it, then they could get a small force into the tower while the rest of the Kindle Kin followed over land. When he suggested the idea to the Conductor, he had been told that neither the Kin, nor any mortal who travelled with them, could operate such a machine. Mickie had assured the old singer that it was fine. He did, after all, know a guy.

    ¡®Kid, I don¡¯t know about this. It¡¯ll seem real weird if the thing flies itself. Also, the controls are too big for me, how will I even steer it?¡¯

    Miz-Mag was unenthused with the idea to say the least.

    ¡®I¡¯ll help you with the controls and we¡¯ll pretend it¡¯s just me, I told the Conductor I could fly remember?¡¯

    He muttered, low enough that only the little demon could hear. His companion huffed and turned its back on Mickie to sit with legs kicking his shoulder blade. Taking that as a win, the branded man clambered up into the flyer and examined the space they had available. It was a large vehicle, made for hauling whatever equipment the Sovereign¡¯s lot had needed out here. They could perhaps fit fifteen odd metal hybrids in the tray, and a little less of the normal kin amongst the seating.

    ¡®So, this is to be our chariot of war?¡¯

    The Conductor asked, its projected voice buzzing with amusement.

    ¡®Yep, this is our ticket to mayhem.¡¯

    Mickie agreed, resting a hand on the side of the machine.

    ¡®We hit the tower with a small team and wreak some havoc. If we can free Kalistra and get her to help, then we might even be able to take the place.¡¯

    ¡®An exciting endeavour if ever there was one.¡¯

    The blind singer smiled up at him.

    ¡®I shall pick the best to accompany us.¡¯

    Karsus started at that.

    ¡®Wait a moment.¡¯

    The old man cut in, taking a step closer to the Conductor.

    ¡®Us? Con, you can¡¯t mean to go along with him.¡¯

    The old singer frowned.

    ¡®Of course I mean to go. A Song Spinner has asked the Kin for aid, and we shall answer to the best of our ability.¡¯

    A mixture of emotions passed across the old man¡¯s face in rapid succession. Shock, anger, frustration and finally, fear.

    ¡®You cannot risk yourself like that. This scheme, it¡¯s suicide. The boy¡¯s going to get himself and whoever he takes along for the ride killed.¡¯

    Mickie made to protest, but was forestalled as the Conductor raised a hand.

    ¡®Do you think I would send the Kin and the Spinner to die? I thought you knew me better than that, Karsus.¡¯

    The singer¡¯s voice was calm, but firm. It did little to assuage the aged mortal¡¯s fears, however.

    ¡®I trust you, Con, of course I do. It¡¯s just, you will be so far from the other Kin. Their song will not reach you.¡¯

    ¡®I have gone without the song before, my friend. Besides, I am certain you will lead my people to me before I even notice they are gone.¡¯

    Karsus sighed and rubbed his eyes.

    ¡®The way the boy described it, the walk won¡¯t be a short one. You are going to be alone in that tower for a decent while.¡¯

    The old man had a point, Mickie had seen the force the conductor could bring to bear when all the Kindle Kin were behind it. Just because he was under the pump to reach Kalistra, did not mean he should go in guns blazing and get himself killed.

    ¡®Alright, how about this.¡¯

    Mickie spoke over the top of the arguing duo.

    ¡®Instead of heading straight there, we all travel together for a while. Once we get close, a team heads in for an assault, while the others push ahead on foot. Try and reduce the time difference.¡¯

    Karsus and the Conductor both turned his way.

    ¡®And what of your friend, Spinner? Will they not be at risk?¡¯

    ¡®Kalistra¡¯s pretty tough, she¡¯ll manage until we get there.¡¯

    The old singer seemed pleased with that, and reached out to give Karsus¡¯ arm a reassuring pat.

    ¡®See, I will not be separated for long.¡¯

    The old man still appeared to want to argue, but could tell there was no convincing the Kindle Kin leader.

    ¡®Alright, I suppose that could work. We won¡¯t be able to support you in person though, not with the tower being so inaccessible.¡¯

    He glanced at Mickie.

    ¡®It¡¯s a shame we can¡¯t do a couple more runs in the flyer.¡¯

    The branded man frowned, then cast a glance at Miz-Mag. The little demon shook its head rapidly.

    ¡®No way kid. You might be buds with the blind fellow, but I don¡¯t trust these wierdos.¡¯

    Mickie held up a hand to the older duo and turned away.

    ¡®Karsus has a point Mag. If we can get more Kin into the tower, we¡¯ll stand a better chance at coming out alive.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, well that won¡¯t do me any good if the old boy turns me into mincemeat with its mind.¡¯

    Miz-Mag cast a suspicious look at the Conductor.

    ¡®It won¡¯t do that, believe it or not, the Kindle Kin are going to help us.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, like how they let us climb up into Belphegor¡¯s waiting arms in the eight? All while they kicked back and took it easy?¡¯

    Mickie took a slow breath.

    ¡®We need their help Mag, I know you don¡¯t trust them, but that¡¯s the truth of it. Belphegor has Kalistra, and if we don¡¯t do everything we can to get her back, then we¡¯ll lose her like we lost Sestus.¡¯

    The little fiend stiffened at the mention of its old friend. They had not yet had the opportunity to talk about the golden fiend¡¯s death, and Mickie felt a little guilty bringing it up now. Sestus might not have been entirely trustworthy, but Miz-Mag had spent weeks with gemstone eyed demon while Mickie was a statue. For all that the little fiend put up a gruff exterior, being seen meant a lot to it. If they did not take all the help they could, then Miz-Mag was liable to lose another creature with whom it could talk.

    ¡®Everything okay, Spinner?¡¯

    The Conductor queried from where it stood with Karsus. Mickie gave Miz-Mag an inquiring look.

    ¡®Okay. Fine. Tell the blind bugger.¡¯

    His partner ground out. Mickie smiled and gave the demon a pat on the head, receiving a cry of outrage and jab in the neck for his effort.

    ¡®All good on our end, just had to speak with someone real quick.¡¯

    ¡®Oh?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, about that thought of making more than one trip. I think we could make it work.¡¯

    Karsus frowned in his direction.

    ¡®Did you just say we?¡¯

    On Mickie¡¯s shoulder, Miz-Mag sighed.

    ¡®Here¡¯s hoping this doesn¡¯t bite us in the ass, kid.¡¯

    <hr>

    Kalistra hung limp in the dark. The wounds had long since closed, yet her empty eye sockets ached with phantom pain. Her head was reeling with implications, that woman¡¯s final statement still ringing in her ears. Belphegor¡¯s second had claimed she was Mickie¡¯s sister, then left Kalistra to rot until further notice.

    The gorgon was unsure if she could trust a word out of that mortal¡¯s mouth. Yet, if she had spoken true, it would help explain some things. How Mickie had gotten the wreath that broke the stone bindings, for example. It might even indicate how someone was in position to drag them to safety when the tower collapsed. Someone that close to Belphegor would have a good idea of its plans.

    However, Kalistra was no fool. She knew that mortal siblings were typically close in age, and that Mickie was considered relatively young. That woman, by contrast, was old. Not only that, but she had been in the ageless realm of Hell for quite some time. Therefore, if she were Mickie¡¯s sister, then he would have had to have arrived in Hell almost a century ago.

    The branded mortal had told her otherwise, and Kalistra did not think he lied. Mickie was woefully ignorant about even the simplest facts of their realm. That either meant the old woman had lied to her, or there was something stranger at play. Kalistra hoped for the later with a desperation bordering on manic.

    She hoped, because if the old woman had not lied about being Mickie¡¯s sister, then perhaps she had not lied about everything else, too. That she would free Kalistra and let her fight, or that short and strange story she had told. The tale of a gorgon named Typhlopidia, who was blind yet fought as if she had eyes in the back of her head.

    Kalistra had spent hours picking apart the story, trying to find some indication of how the mysterious gorgon had achieved such a feat. She had attempted to extend her other senses, shift her power to make new eyes grow, even attempted to get a hold of a demon corpse to try use its eyes. Nothing had borne fruit. So, once more hopeless and alone, Kalistra sank into her link with Ziz. Her world of darkness gave way to one of sharp colour, and the gorgon found herself spinning and twisting through the air.

    Ziz flew as gracefully as hummingbird; ducking and weaving around projectiles launched after it. A net flickered past, and the scene narrowed as the avian abruptly dove. Its laser vision homed in on the source of the attack, and Kalistra could see the fear in a demon¡¯s eyes as if she were standing right before it. Ziz shot towards the squad of fiends at incredible speed.

    The group retreated into a nearby arch in the tower, a space too narrow for the primordial to fit. Before they could get all the way inside, Ziz hit the steel balcony. The picture became a blur as the primordial¡¯s head snaked into the passage to grab a demon. Kalistra gasped as she caught sight of a second team, waiting with weapons trained on the entrance.

    She could almost feel it as they opened fire, bullets slamming into her partner as it hurriedly fled. The gorgon wished there was some way she could communicate with the bird. Ever since her eyes had been taken, it had been in a rage, striking constantly at any exposed demon. The enforcers were adjusting to Ziz however, and she feared it was only a matter of time before the primordial was caught.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    As her partner retreated to the distant ceiling, Kalistra withdrew from window into its eyes. As the darkness reembraced her, hopelessness bubbled up in a sudden frothing wave. She let lose a scream of frustration, and slammed her head hard against the steel wall. If she had new guards, they seemed not to notice or care about the outburst. All she heard in reply was the tinny echo of her own fury.

    If only Ziz was here. She could use its eyes as her own and fight that way. The gorgon was out of ideas and running out of time. Mickie¡¯s sister had said she would free her when the time came, but Kalistra had no guarantee of that. If she could not prove useful, the older woman might decide she was better off in chains.

    The gorgon went slack, her bindings clinking as they pulled taught. She felt tears began to well, and tilted her head forward so they fell down her face rather than into it. The serpents on her head twisted and about, crawling along her brow and cheeks. She could feel their tongues brush against her as they sampled the air, knowing something was wrong, but not sure what it was. Kalistra was reminded of Ziz, connected to her, trying to help without knowing how. Connected to her¡­

    Her head shot up. Of course, that was it! Ziz was not the only creature to which she was bonded. There were others, all perfectly positioned upon her head with eyes that were just begging to be used. Kalistra¡¯s serpentine hair shared a deeper connection to her than even Ziz. The snakes had grown from her very soul, and remained connected to it like leaves to a tree. If she could bridge the gap to them, then she would have her eyesight back.

    Wasting no further time, the gorgon fell inwards, sinking into the spacious depths of her soul. Within she could feel the path that led to Ziz. Kalistra reached out a mental hand and brushed it, examining its shape and construction. A product of her binding with the primordial, the connection was organic, something that had grown between them.

    That did not mean she could not replicate something similar. Kalistra reached for the flickering souls of her serpents and got to work.

    <hr>

    The low rumble of the flyer¡¯s engine filled Mickie¡¯s ears as Miz-Mag pulled them up over another dune. He stood ready by the joystick, just in case the little demon lost control of the controls again. They swooped low, following the slope of the dune before levelling off to coast between sandy peaks. Miz-Mag used a foot to ease off the throttle, all the while keeping the machine steady as they came in for a landing. As metal contacted sand, Mickie released a breath he did not know he had been holding.

    ¡®That was good. Didn¡¯t even come close to killing us this time around.¡¯

    Miz-Mag released the joystick that was larger than it was and turned to give the branded man a grin.

    ¡®Nothing to it but skill and finesse, kid. Hardly a challenge to a demon of my capabilities.¡¯

    Mickie chuckled and stretched the tension out of his shoulders.

    ¡®You see the bone woods?¡¯

    ¡®Sure did, we must be getting close.¡¯

    The little demon hopped off the controls and scampered onto Mickie¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡®Time to tell the old boys we¡¯re making our move?¡¯

    ¡®I think so.¡¯

    Mickie nodded and jumped down from the flyer. For the past few hours, he and Miz-Mag had been taking the bulky transport out for short hops across the desert. After each they would stop and wait for the Kindle Kin to catch back up before continuing. The flights served a double purpose of getting the machine across the desert, and giving the tiny fiend a chance to brush up on its flying. Initially, they had not travelled alone, but after the Kindle Kin experienced Miz-Mag¡¯s flying they were inexplicably eager to stretch their legs. Mickie couldn¡¯t blame them. The machine¡¯s controls were far too large for his partner, and he could still taste the sand from their last shaky landing.

    The duo made their way up the side of a large dune to look out over the desert. With neither the bone woods nor tower in sight, they had been following a familiar group of pillars in the distance. Miz-Mag had apparently taken note of them while Ziz spirited them away.

    They had decided to keep frog hopping the flyer until they reached the bone wood, where upon the assault team would make their move. Reaching the top of the dune, Mickie could make out the expanse of spindly white in the distance, but failed to catch sight of the tower. That was good, the last thing they wanted was to be spotted early and lose the element of surprise.

    Shifting away from their destination, Mickie glanced back to where the Kindle Kin were snaking between dunes in the distance. Each flight he and Miz-Mag made put them some distance ahead of the singers, so they had perhaps half an hour before the group caught up. Mickie half walked, half slid down the dune and took a seat in the shade of their vehicle.

    This would be his final rest before they made their move on the tower. He had done as the reborn Ziz asked, had secured the assistance of the Kindle Kin. Now he could only hope they were not too late. A sudden pressure on his knee had Mickie opening his eyes to regard Miz-Mag. The little fiend had moved off its perch and was staring up at him with narrowed eyes.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    He asked, and the demon gave a squeaky hum in response.

    ¡®You seem awfully calm.¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered.

    ¡®Should I not be?¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t know¡­ maybe? It¡¯s just, strange, I guess.¡¯

    Mickie had seen this kind of behaviour before. A kind of introspection that could only be achieved under the looming shadow of violence. He often felt it himself, the prospect of death prompting a kind of thoughtful melancholy. It was not a bad thing to see in his little partner. Better than fear, anyway.

    ¡®What¡¯s strange?¡¯

    ¡®The fact that you¡¯re so calm. I¡¯ve seen humans before, and most of you are like those ones in the palace. I mean, we have to go fight Belphegor again, kid. That asshole stomped us flat the last time. You and I should be grindin¡¯ our teeth flat with worry, but you don¡¯t even seem ruffled.¡¯

    Mickie nodded slowly.

    ¡®Just a matter of experience, I suppose.¡¯

    ¡®You raided ruins in Hell before, have you?¡¯

    A trace of characteristic snark entered his partner¡¯s voice, and Mickie chuckled.

    ¡®Nothing so exciting. I am familiar with violence though. Was basically my whole life before I kicked the bucket. Eventually you get used to it.¡¯

    What was it is his father had once said? You either bend or you brake. Mickie could tell Miz-Mag was going to pry further and decided to change the subject.

    ¡®What about you? You seem pretty put together.¡¯

    The little fiend smirked up at him.

    ¡®Course I do. I¡¯m over a century old, remember? I got experience in abundance.¡¯

    Mickie smirked back.

    ¡®Yeah, full hundred years of running and hiding under your belt.¡¯

    Miz-Mag huffed.

    ¡®Like you¡¯d have been able to do any better.¡¯

    The pair fell into a comfortable silence, listening to the sand dance in the gentle cavern breeze. For a time, Mickie felt a rare sort of quiet, the kind in which his emotions were settled of their own accord. He knew it would not last, and that soon enough he would be a live wire, but that was alright. For the moment, his head was clear, and his task was set. Forget the climb, forget the brand upon his flesh. Right now, he had a friend that needed his help, and an ancient demon of sloth to pound into next week.

    Eventually the silence was broken by the crunch of footsteps, and the duo rose to greet the Kindle Kin. For creatures that just had trekked across the desert, the singers looked surprisingly good. It had been a lucky break, one of the humans travelling with the Kin had stumbled across a store of strange cloaks in the outpost. Apparently, they had spent some time on the seventh before and used the clothing to resist the heat.

    There were not nearly enough of the cloaks to go around, so the procession had been sharing the garments as required. Whenever a someone began to flag, they would spend some time under the resistant cloth, then pass the item off when another needed it. As the group neared, Mickie noticed a shorter Kin struggling, their stubby legs finding it difficult to move across the steep dunes. Before the little guy could fall, a hybrid came to its aid, metal arms righting the small singer. The fleshy Kin might have given a thankful hum, but Mickie found it hard to tell over the procession¡¯s collective music. Unlike their violent battle song, or the unconventional tune they used to convince the bone tree, this music was soft and understated. Like an idle hum at an orchestral scale.

    Mickie noticed the Conductor near the front of the group, walking with a hand on Karsus¡¯ arm for guidance. The old singer did not currently have a cloak on, and as a result looked a little bit more haggard than some of the surrounding Kin. That did not stop the blind leader from perking up as Mickie approached. The understated song shifted ever so slightly when it did, the tune picking up in intensity.

    ¡®Is that you Spinner?¡¯

    ¡®The one and only.¡¯

    The Conductor released Karsus¡¯ arm and made to move forward, only to be stopped by a hand on its shoulder. The old man pulled off the cloak he wore and draped it over the old singer, saying something that Mickie could not hear. Then Karsus was turning away and heading for a nearby cluster of mortals.

    ¡®Is something the matter?¡¯

    The Kindle Kin leader asked as it neared Mickie.

    ¡®We spotted the bone woods on our last run.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, so it is time to go then.¡¯

    The Conductor hesitated briefly.

    ¡®And how goes our unseen friend¡¯s flying?¡¯

    Miz-Mag perked up as it was mentioned.

    ¡®Good, we didn¡¯t even crash land on that last flight.¡¯

    As his partner scolded him, Mickie noticed the slight easing of tension in the Conductor¡¯s expression.

    ¡®So Miz-Mag has mastered the controls?¡¯

    ¡®Damn right I have.¡¯

    The little demon said, and Mickie related a less enthusiastic response. When he had told the Conductor and Karsus about Miz-Mag, the old singer had taken the revelation in stride. In fact, Mickie felt the blind Kindle Kin had already suspected something, so readily did it accept his word. Karsus on the other hand had required a bit more convincing. The old man had said something about how Mickie was marked by the Soul Lord. Though, he went quiet swiftly once Miz-Mag provided a jab to his neck.

    ¡®You going to call the Kin over?¡¯

    Mickie asked, anxious to get the attack underway.

    ¡®I already have.¡¯

    The Conductor smiled and nodded towards a group of Kindle Kin that had detached from the procession. A cluster of equal parts hybrids and singers made their way towards the branded man and their blind leader. It was a small force, but the first of many if Miz-Mag could avoid crashing the flyer. The Kindle Kin arrived beside them and had a brief conversation with the Conductor. Mickie could not discern anything from the overlapping humming, although he appreciated the complexity of their speech. Even when the Kin were not trying to make music, they were melodious.

    Soon the chatter died down, and Mickie was left with the Conductor as the Kin headed for the flyer. Something brushed against his arm and the branded man glanced down to find a grey hand on his jacket sleeve. A stubby Kin smiled up at him and hummed. Mickie felt the vibrations run up the singer¡¯s arm and into him. With them came a feeling, or perhaps an intention. There was something in the small melody, not as grand as the collective song, but still deep with meaning. Mickie felt excitement and pride, but also trepidation and fear. Above it all though, there was a strain of belief that left the mortal short of breath. The feeling was so intense that it made Mickie uncomfortable, and he gently pulled his arm away.

    ¡®Thanks for the pep talk.¡¯

    He said, and the little Kin smiled up at him. It made to leave, then hesitated for a moment. Wide eyes narrowed in a squint of concentration, and very briefly Mickie felt the air tremble around him. It warbled, warped, and fell silent. The singer let out a huff of air and staggered back. As Mickie stared in astonishment, the grey creature straightened, gave him a look that encapsulated a shrug, and moved towards the flyer.

    ¡®Was that what I think it was¡­¡¯

    He muttered, glancing at the Conductor. The old leader was smiling broadly, head turned in the direction of the parting singer.

    ¡®Indeed. Amongst any people there are standouts, those who differ through drive or happenstance. I¡¯ve had my eye on that one for some time.¡¯

    ¡®And you¡¯re okay with taking it to the tower?¡¯

    The blind singer sighed.

    ¡®I do not take, nor direct, Mickie. My people are not bound to my whims. I put the question out, asking who would go to the tower with you, and they were the first to respond. The risk is theirs to make, just as it is yours, and just as it is mine.¡¯

    ¡®Right, sorry, didn¡¯t mean to be rude or anything.¡¯

    Mickie fumbled out an apology but was waved down.

    ¡®Nothing of the sort, Singer. Truth be told, there are times when I wish some of the foolhardier Kin would listen to what I say. Now, shall we get moving? I am eager to meet with Ziz and the one to whom it is bound.¡¯

    The Conductor said, reaching out a hand to grasp Mickie¡¯s arm as they crossed the sand. Luckily, the blind singer did not vibrate any strange messages into his body, letting him get to the flyer in peace. As he helped the Conductor clamber into a spare seat, the branded man thought back to that feeling of belief the little Kin had projected. Had that been confidence in him, or just reassurance that they would get through this? Something in the melody had Mickie¡¯s gut was leaning towards the former. That, more than anything, scared him.

    These Kindle Kin hardly knew him, yet that small singer believed in him with a fervour he had not earned. As Mickie planted himself in the pilot¡¯s chair, he wondered how long it would take for him to fall short of those expectations. Might not even take the day if things went south in the tower, Mickie thought, and released a dry chuckle. Miz-Mag glanced his way from where it worked the controls.

    ¡®Something funny kid?¡¯

    ¡®Nah, just a thought. You ready to do this?¡¯

    The little demon huffed at him.

    ¡®Not in the slightest.¡¯

    With a rumble the flyer¡¯s engine came to life. Mickie shifted in his seat and sent a nod the Conductor¡¯s way. The old Kindle Kin received his nod and raised a hand to its people. A low buzz emanated from the singers in the machine as they lifted off. It was answered by a hum from the rest of the Kin that had sand skittering off dunes. Mickie looked at them all, a sea of faces raised in the strange song of their kind. He wondered how many of them would be lost if they were successful, and how much higher that number would be if they failed. Miz-Mag flicked a couple dials with a foot and leant forward on the control stick. The flyer lurched slightly before stabilising with a burp of the engines. Their tiny pilot leant on the throttle, and the assault team shot off towards the distant bone woods.

    <hr>

    The group flew low over the bleached boughs, rocketing towards a blocky shape in the distance. They had come into sight of the tower not long ago, and Miz-Mag had been swift to put their plan into action. The little demon put on as much speed as it could, angling to get to the tower before Belphegor could respond. Around Mickie, the Kindle Kin were hunched in their chairs, with the steel hybrids behind them hunkered in the flyer¡¯s tray. Wind whipped at the mortal¡¯s face and hair, the taste of blood a promise of what was to come.

    As they got closer the branded man began to see figures on the structure. Demons were grouped on the various tiers, with weapons already drawn. Mickie cursed low, it looked like their arrival had not gone as unnoticed as he might have liked.

    ¡®They¡¯ve seen us, go for strafe runs!¡¯

    He shouted to Miz-Mag over the roar of their flyer. The little demon said something in reply that he missed, and the transport adjusted its course minutely. Mickie turned to the Conductor and relayed the change in plan. Their initial hope had been to catch Belphegor with its pants down, and land before the enforcers could react. However, that had been a best-case scenario, and Mickie had made sure to have a fallback when things inevitably went wrong.

    As the tower loomed ahead of them, the Kindle Kin shifted into their ready positions. Each of the smaller and more vulnerable singers moved to stand before a steel hybrid. Miz-Mag pulled back on the control stick and with a groan of effort the flyer tilted upwards. The attack squad raced up the tiered side of the building, and Mickie caught glimpses of wide-eyed demons as they shot past. He had no idea if they were being shot at, it was impossible to hear anything over the sound of their abrupt ascent.

    Taking a slow breath, Mickie prepared himself to move. The calm he had felt before the flight was gone, now he was all energy and nerves. Miz-Mag abruptly cut the engines near the top of the tower. Like a stone cresting in the air, the flyer bobbed upwards on momentum alone, seeming to hang for an instance before gravity restored its hold. Mickie¡¯s gut hit his throat as his partner slammed back on the throttle. Their transport roared like a wounded beast, catching them right before they fell, and rumbling forward at a level altitude. Go time.

    Mickie shot out of his chair and darted to the edge of the flyer. Miz-Mag had positioned them just above one of the tiered balconies, flying low and slow. It would leave them vulnerable to fire, but with an accessible landing strip. With no time to waste, the branded man turned to the arrayed singers, gave them a nod, and jumped over the side of the transport.

    For a moment Mickie felt as if he were flying. The momentum of the vehicle carried him sideways, and the wall of the tower¡¯s next level whipped by. Then the steel floor rose to catch him, and the mortal braced himself for impact. Just before hitting the balcony, he caught a glimpse of demonic figures hurrying out of a passage ahead. He swore and landed, legs folding inwards, tucking down and in to absorb the blow. Mickie rolled along the balcony, steel battering and beating his unprotected limbs. With an oomph he slammed into the tower¡¯s wall, coming to a dead, and rather painful, stop.

    There was no time to rest and recuperate however, not if demons were coming onto the balcony. Mickie pushed himself to his feet and called forth his weapon. Sure enough, a full squadron of enforcers were already jostling into position. Mickie cast about for an escape, but found nothing. He would have to fight. Rushing down that many rifles was a grim prospect, but they were positioned next to his way inside.

    In the moment before he charged something dropped like a stone from above. For an instant Mickie thought it might be one of the Kindle Kin. Except, Miz-Mag had long since flown around the square edge of the tower. Wherever the Kin landed, it would not be near him. Instead, a mass of glinting bronze feathers and muscled slammed into the distracted enforcers like a boulder. Two were knocked flat while another was sent tumbling over the balcony¡¯s edge with a scream.

    Mickie started running as the remainder of the group shouted and began to turn their weapons inwards. From within their ranks Ziz let loose a furious squawk, it elongated neck whipping out to rip the weapon from a fiend. The harried enforcers shouted at the primordial and one another as they backed away. There was a crack of gunfire and Ziz shrieked in pain before lashing out with a clawed wing. A demon was caught and dragged into the reach of the primordial¡¯s curved beak. Its cry of alarm was swiftly cut short.

    Then Mickie reached the group. The backmost enforcer he took out with a passing shot to the head, ripping its rifle free with his spare hand. Ziz had seen him and turned to face the demons on its other side. As one of the enforcers nearby tried to capitalise off the move, Mickie shoulder checked it. Unprepared and dangerously close to open air, the fiend stumbled right off the side of the tower. With Ziz¡¯s assistance and the newfound element of surprise on his side, Mickie moved through the rest of the enforcers in moments.

    Soon the balcony was quiet, and Mickie could finally hear the alarm being raised across the tower. The echoing sounds of combat began to come from all directions as his strike team started their grisly work. Mickie wished them luck, even as he thanked anyone who was listening for his own. Ziz had arrived just in time to save him from taking some heavy hits.

    Now that the demons were dealt with, the big bird turned towards him. It tentatively stretched its wings as it regarded him, now doubt making sure they were not overly injured. Mickie had no clue how tough a young primordial was, but he doubted taking that many bullets had been pleasant.

    ¡®You alright?¡¯

    He asked, and the air around them shuddered briefly before seeming to snap taught.

    ¡®Yes. See you, help you. Go now, get Kalistra.¡¯

    ¡®So, she¡¯s still here then?¡¯

    A weight lifted from Mickie¡¯s chest at the news. He had been worried Belphegor might outright move the gorgon out of the tower, or even just kill her.

    ¡®Here, yes. Injured.¡¯

    The branded man nodded slowly; he could handle a few injuries. Ziz seemed to take that as an end to the conversation, and towards the balcony¡¯s edge.

    ¡®Wait a moment.¡¯

    Mickie called, a thought occurring to him.

    ¡®What? Must go.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, I know that bud, I just want to ask a favour.¡¯

    ¡®Quick.¡¯

    The branded man sighed.

    ¡®Yeah okay. You know the flying machine that we arrived in?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. Very loud.¡¯

    ¡®Right. Any chance you could protect it? Miz-Mag is going to get more Kindle Kin to help, but there a ton of demons about. It could use your help.¡¯

    Ziz did not seem all that keen on the idea.

    ¡®No, I hunt.¡¯

    Mickie paused. The smug way the bird said that made him feel like this so-called hunt was an ongoing process. Perhaps one that had been happening for some time. Suddenly, the branded man saw the groups of enforcers out on the balconies in a new light.

    ¡®They weren¡¯t after us at all¡­¡¯

    He muttered, then refocused on the big bird.

    ¡®Ziz, you want to get Kalistra back, right?¡¯

    The avian made an affirming chirp.

    ¡®Well then we¡¯re going to need help getting to her.¡¯

    Ziz gave a slow nod. In the background, Mickie could hear the sounds of fighting growing louder. He needed to get moving.

    ¡®We need more Kindle Kin. I¡¯m not saying follow Miz-Mag when it leaves, but at least lend a hand while the flyer is here, alright?¡¯

    He made the request as earnestly as possible, holding the primordial¡¯s eye. After a short pause, Ziz gave an exasperated huff.

    ¡®Okay.¡¯

    Without another word, the big bird launched itself from the balcony and into the open air. Wind buffeted Mickie, but he was already turning towards the tower¡¯s entrance. Whether or not Ziz would lend hand was debatable, but hopefully now his partner would have an easier time of it. Stepping into the structure¡¯s dark shadow, Mickie called forth his weapon. He could hear footsteps and voices echoing down the dark hall, coming closer with each moment. Mickie took a slow, steadying breath, and expanded the hollow in his chest. His hopes and fear were pushed aside, replaced by cool clarity. It was time to get to work.

 32 â€“ Hammer Strike

    Ziz was the first to notice the change when it came, and Kalistra saw it through the primordial¡¯s eyes. Her partner had been taking a rest in the craggy recesses of the cavern ceiling, when something drew its attention. A shape, distant even to its eagle eyes, and racing across the tops of the bone trees, low enough to almost clip them.

    Kalistra knew it had to be Mickie. Whether or not he had the Kindle Kin with him was unimportant to her. At that moment, all she could think about was that he had finally come, and it was time for her to fight. The gorgon pulled back from Ziz and fell into her own body. Immediately, she began to draw upon several woven threads, tiny replicas of her connection to the primordial.

    They were crude things, fragile and ugly. Yet they worked. The darkness around her was replaced by multiple overlapping visions. She saw the chains that bound her, the door to her room in the tower, the dead demons on the floor, and even the ceiling overhead. Multiple snakes fed her what they saw. It was a confusing mess, but Kalistra revelled in it.

    The individual eyes of her serpentine hair were far weaker than the pair she had lost. Yet the picture they provided was absolute. Kalistra could see in every direction at once, and even obtain multiple angles of the same thing. Spending too long like this was nauseating however, already she could feel the beginning of a headache coming on.

    Having ensured everything was operational, she released most of the serpents, keeping only two active. Forwards facing, this pair were her surrogate eyes, and she could stay within them as long as she wanted. Kalistra coiled into herself as she settled in to wait, her hair as fixated on the open doorway as she was.

    The sounds of fighting were already echoing through the halls by the time someone arrived. A harried mortal woman stumbled into the room and Kalistra immediately recognised Belphegor¡¯s second. Some of the tension she held within eased. It was one thing to deduce the identity of her visitor, and another entirely to confirm it. Taking a few deep breaths, the woman let her features settle into an expression of bland disapproval. She straightened and approached Kalistra, stepping over the corpse of a demon guard.

    ¡®I imagine you¡¯ve heard the commotion. I should have expected Mik to make a scene.¡¯

    ¡®It is time then?¡¯

    ¡®That it is. For better or worse.¡¯

    The mortal stopped just out of arms reach. Kalistra did not swivel her head towards the visitor, her serpentine hair doing the work in her stead. She noted that the older woman had a firearm held loosely in one hand. Things might not be as certain here as she had hoped.

    ¡®Are you going to release me then?¡¯

    ¡®I am. But first, we are going to have a little talk. We are already short on time, and things are only going to get worse from here on out.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s sister levelled a scowl at the gorgon.

    ¡®How in all the circles did he find the Kindle Kin? What are they even doing here?¡¯

    Kalistra acted as if she was still unable to see the expression, shrugging and staying silent. After a few moments the old woman scoffed.

    ¡®Keep your secrets then. So long as Belphegor dies, this situation is salvageable. Did you figure out Typhlopidia¡¯s trick?¡¯

    ¡®I did.¡¯

    The answer clearly took the mortal by surprise. Kalistra used the momentary silence to cut in.

    ¡®You said you were Mickie¡¯s sister. That is not possible.¡¯

    Her visitor recovered quickly enough, expression shifting to inquisitive. The old woman started pacing, keeping her attention fixed upon the gorgon. Then, with sudden and casual ease, she raised the small gun. Kalistra reacted with the speed of the striking snake, lunging for the mortal. Her scaled claw was yanked to a stop mere inches from the weapons barrel. That was it then. Her worst fears had been proven and now she was going to die. One second crawled by. Then another. Then came the dry rasp of laughter.

    ¡®Incredible. I only wanted to keep you motivated, but to think you actually did it.¡¯

    The gun fell back into a more casual position.

    ¡®Bit of a crude method of validation, I know, but we are short on time. That means questions will have to wait.¡¯

    Her visitor started pacing again.

    ¡®Suffice to say, as odd as it seems, I am Mickie¡¯s sister. You may call me Lucia.¡¯

    ¡®And I¡¯m just supposed to take your word for it?¡¯

    Kalistra snapped, chains still taught against her arms and legs. Lucia settled a disapproving look on her.

    ¡®Believe what you want, I¡¯m not here to put you at ease. I¡¯m here to give you a job.¡¯

    The old woman stepped up to Kalistra, stopping close enough that gorgon could brush her wrinkled skin.

    ¡®We are officially out of time. Do you want out of these chains or not?¡¯

    Kalistra gritted her teeth. Having just had a weapon pointed at her, she was not feeling particularly trusting. Yet the sounds of combat were growing louder. The old woman was not wrong when she said they were out of time.

    ¡®Very well. Questions can wait.¡¯

    Lucia smiled.

    ¡®Fantastic. Now hold still and shut up. I¡¯m going to work and talk.¡¯

    The old woman produced a portable transcription device and began to etch a rune into one of the cuffs. She seemed to sense the gorgon¡¯s attention.

    ¡®Belphegor¡¯s a paranoid son of a bitch. It has the only key to your bindings, so I¡¯ll have to crack them myself.¡¯

    A rune was completed, one which Kalistra thought might be the symbol for Sever. With a crack the steel encircling her left wrist split and fell to the floor. Lucia started on her other arm.

    ¡®Now, once you¡¯re out we¡¯ll need to track down Belphegor. I¡¯ve got someone keeping tabs on the old boy, so we will have its general location.¡¯

    Another restraint fell to the floor. Lucia started on one of her legs.

    ¡®Whatever happens, we cannot let Mickie get to Belphegor without us.¡¯

    ¡®Why? He is a capable fighter.¡¯

    The old woman threw here an irritated look before continuing returning to work.

    ¡®Sure he is, and I¡¯m certain he will be of use if he shows up. Belphegor is a monster though, and if Mickie faces it alone, he will lose.¡¯

    Lucia winced.

    ¡®And Belphegor has something nasty planned for Mickie if he does.¡¯

    One Kalistra¡¯s legs was freed.

    ¡®You¡¯re going to have a chance because you¡¯re with me, and I know how to kill Belphegor.¡¯

    The gorgon chose to wait until her final limb was free before posing a question. When the binding fell to the floor a palpable sense of relief washed through her. All that remained was the collar about her neck.

    ¡®The lord of sloth has a weakness?¡¯

    She asked as Lucia straightened with a groan.

    ¡®These accursed old bones.¡¯

    The old woman huffed then flinched as a crash came from nearby.

    ¡®Not a weakness as such, but a threshold.¡¯

    She said, staring work on the collar about Kalistra¡¯s neck.

    ¡®Belphegor¡¯s ability is simple, but no less monstrous for it. The old dog has created something like a barrier within itself, using the power of its soul. This both empowers it and allows it to resist any form of incoming attack. If you want to hurt it, then you must overcome the barrier.¡¯

    Lucia made the technique sound simple, but Kalistra knew something like that would have to be impossibly complex. She wanted to ask questions, but the feeling of the transcription tool at her neck kept her mouth closed.

    ¡®What I¡¯m driving at here is that if we want to kill Belphegor, then we need to hit it hard. A single strike, so powerful that it overwhelms the barrier.¡¯

    With a final long scratch, the old woman completed the rune she had been carving. The chocker about Kalistra¡¯s neck grew uncomfortably hot. For a moment the gorgon thought something had gone wrong, and she was about to have her neck snapped. Then the metal cracked and fell away from her throat, and Kalistra was free.

    ¡®Is that something you think you can manage?¡¯

    Lucia asked, a wary edge entering her voice as the eyeless gorgon rolled her neck. Kalistra¡¯s vision swam as her serpentine hair danced in delight, mirroring her own emotions. Now free of that accursed chain about her neck, the gorgon reached for her power.

    Normally, when she had gathered enough, she would direct the strike through her own eyes to attack what she was looking at. This time however, she drew on her connections to her serpentine hair. As her vision became an overlapping mess of perspectives, power built. Kalistra directed her attention at one of the guard bodies nearby, and pushed the power through the bond to her snakes.

    There was a moment of resistance as her constructions strained with the force. Then her attack burst forth, and the dead demon was turned to stone. Kalistra laughed in delight and turned a wicked grin on Lucia. That smile was all the answer the old woman needed.

    <hr>

    Wind roared, engines rumbled, and Miz-Mag screamed. Whether out of fear or joy, the little demon did not know. Around it the desert and rocky ceiling spun past in a blur of colour as the flyer spiralled through the air. It had only intended the move to be a swift shift to the side, dodging a large net that was launched towards the aircraft. The controls of the vehicle proved unwieldy and insidious however, and Miz-Mag slipped mid adjustment. The resulting manoeuvre successfully dodged the net, but also threatened to toss the demon from its vehicle.

    Swinging a leg out, the little fiend managed to hook a foot on a button. It used the added leverage to shove the control stick back into place. With a groan of effort, the flyer¡¯s various rotors straightened out, and the transport levelled. Miz-Mag let out a breath of relief and stretched out aching muscles. It had been holding on for dear life for what felt like an eternity.

    The little fiend took a moment to regain its bearings, glancing over the side of the aircraft at the distant tower. Luckily it had managed to avoid barrel rolling straight into the sandy ground, instead sending the aircraft upwards. With the dual benefits of being out of net range and having a good vantage, Miz-Mag took a moment to survey its handiwork. Across the tower teams of Kindle Kin were fighting demons and slipping through shadowed archways.

    Each metal hybrid had a smaller, weaker Kin backing them up. When dropping out of the flyer the sentient bulldozers had carried their fleshy counterparts with them, protecting them on landing. Personally Miz-Mag did not get it. The Conductor it could understand, but these other Kin lacked that old fart¡¯s special sound powers. At best they were a liability.

    The Kindle Kin had been adamant though. When Mickie relayed Miz-Mag¡¯s thoughts, their leader had assured the demon that Kin were more effective in pairs. The little fiend had concluded that it was their funeral, and let the matter drop. Miz-Mag adjusted its grip on the control stick, shifting in the direction of the singer horde.

    At that moment, something slammed hard into the flyer, jolting it to the side and almost send Miz-Mag careening off. Glancing back, the little fiend noticed a hole in the aircraft, punching right through one of the rotors. Beyond that, two dark shapes darted through the desert air like piranhas coming for a slab of beef.

    ¡®Oh, by the balls.¡¯

    Two sleek and sinister flyers shot towards Miz-Mag at frightening speed. One of them seemed to stutter in the air, and the small pilot heard the whistle of projectiles flickering past. Miz-Mag hooked the throttle and gave his clumsy whale of a machine some gas. The flyer lurched forwards, before a scream of steel grinding steel rent the air. Smoke began to billow from the punctured turbine and the vehicle listed dangerously to one side.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Where in all the nine circles had Belphegor been hiding those accursed things? The two enemy aircraft came at Miz-Mag like wolf on a wounded deer. The tiny fiend was having more than enough trouble keeping its own flyer in the air. Another gunshot rammed into the hull, not hitting anything serious but ruining Miz-Mag¡¯s effort at stabilisation.

    ¡®Sorry kid, looks like you might be alone in there.¡¯

    Placing its finger on the metaphorical trigger, the fiend prepared to pull its disappearing act. Turning to make a rude gesture at the encroaching flyers, Miz-Mag¡¯s eyes widened in alarm. Something large had collided with one of the sinister machines. A tail twisted about the skinny fuselage, taloned feet puncturing the steel body for purchase. Even as the little demon¡¯s own floundered ever closer to death, a long neck withdrew from the enemy flyer. Ziz ripped the enemy pilot from its aircraft and tossed the demon away like an unwanted doll. Even through the rumbling gasp of its engines, Miz-Mag heard the creature scream as it tumbled to the distant dunes.

    Ziz uncoiled itself from the flyer and launched into the air. It shoved the damaged aircraft down as it did, and the ship dropped to join its captain. Miz-Mag willed the primordial to turn to the other enemy flyer as it veered away. If the big bird moved quick, it could get to the machine before it put on any distance. Instead, the accursed avian started towards Miz-Mag¡¯s shuddering vessel. The little fiend cursed and wrestled with the controls to stay aloft for just a handful more moments.

    That all went to the dogs when something heavy landed on the flyer¡¯s tray. Immediately the aircraft tipped, flipping like a coin and tossing Miz-Mag out into the open air. The little demon caught a brief glimpse of Ziz, still half clamped to the back of the vehicle as it twisted. The big bird¡¯s eyes were wide with stupefied surprise. Then the demon was screaming out in the open air as it hurtled towards the desert.

    ¡®Boil brained stinkin¡¯ bird!¡¯

    Miz-Mag cried into tangy air. As if in response, something snaked out of sky and scooped it up. The little fiend was suddenly lying flat a bed of feathers, pressed down hard as its momentum was arrested.

    ¡®Yummy one. You don¡¯t fly?¡¯

    The voice came from all around. Miz-Mag cast about and realised it was resting atop Ziz¡¯s head. The primordial¡¯s long neck bobbed in a mesmerising fashion, keeping them steady as the creature¡¯s body flapped in place.

    ¡®Don¡¯t call me that, bird brain. I only fell because you decided to flip my damned aircraft.¡¯

    Ziz made a low squawk that vibrated Miz-Mag atop its head.

    ¡®Mickie, said help.¡¯

    Good old Mickie, the demon mused, could not touch a plan without scattering it into pieces. The demon cast about, finding the enemy aircraft performing a sneaky turn. Miz-Mag had been worried the second pilot might flee after watching its buddy get pulled from the sky. Looks like it had overestimated the idiot¡¯s brain power. As the final flyer completed its turn and lined them up for another pass, a plan fell into Miz-Mag¡¯s lap.

    ¡®Hey, Squawky. Seeing as you downed my last vessel, I think it¡¯s only fair you help me snag a new one.¡¯

    Ziz attempted to eye the little demon, tilting its head and almost throwing Miz-Mag off.

    ¡®Squawky? I am Ziz.¡¯

    The demon cursed as it clung to the feathers.

    ¡®If you¡¯re callin¡¯ me yummy, then I¡¯m callin¡¯ you Squawky.¡¯

    The primordial grumbled low in its throat.

    ¡®I am, not Squawky.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, whatever you say. Now focus up, we got a plane to catch.¡¯

    Ziz made a harrumphing chirp, and swivelled towards the approaching flyer.

    ¡®I help, because Mickie asked.¡¯

    It sounded almost sullen. Miz-Mag had no time to revel in getting one over on the big bird however, as Ziz began a sudden and steep dive. Wind roared past and the little fiend gripped the surrounding feathers for all it was worth. The primordial twisted and spun in the air, all of a sudden coming at the flyer from the side. Miz-Mag caught a glimpse of the pilot¡¯s face before they hit the vessel, and the little fiend cackled at the wide eyes and slack jaw. Ziz caught the flyer like a hawk snagging a frog, its head snaking into the narrow cockpit.

    ¡®Hey old boy, I think you¡¯re in my chair.¡¯

    Miz-Mag said, a grinning in glee as the enemy pilot wailed in fear.

    <hr>

    Gunfire punched Mickie in the gut as he slammed the demon into the wall. The branded man gasped and doubled over, but still managed to keep hold of the enforcer¡¯s neck. He tossed the fiend to the ground and planted a foot on its rifle. The creature seemed about to say something, but Mickie had just finished pumping power into his weapon. The barrel spun over from the gun¡¯s last attack, and his adversary¡¯s head became a meaty spray across the floor.

    Mickie staggered back as he pulled the trigger. He felt as if a car had just rammed into his stomach. Glancing down, the branded man discovered his jacket had held against the gunshots, better than he had anyway. Trying to master his throbbing gut, a gurgling scream drew Mickie¡¯s attention to the end of the hall. A giant steel figure was standing with half a demon in each of its giant hands.

    The Kindle Kin Hybrid turned to Mickie and made a grinding sound that was vaguely appreciative. Behind it the bulbous eyes of its flesh partner blinked slowly at the carnage in the hall. Mickie had come upon the pair whilst searching for Kalistra. They had been pinned down by a squad of enforcers, safe but unable to move further into the tower. Unfortunately for Belphegor¡¯s demons, Mickie had arrived on the other side of the blockade.

    It had not taken long for the branded man to dismantle the band of demons and give the Kindle Kin a chance to strike back. Waving vaguely in the direction of the duo, he staggered back down the hall to continue his search. This had not been the first time he had paused to fight, nor would it be his last. Mickie¡¯s role in the assault was to act as a roving attacker of sorts. While searching for Kalistra he would also take the time to strike at any demons he came across, thining Belphegor¡¯s numbers and soughing chaos.

    Only, he had been at it for what felt like an age now, and was no closer to finding the gorgon than when he started. The fatigue, which Mickie had pushed aside while seeking the Kindle Kin, was now making itself known. His last rest had been the time he spent knocked out following the fall from the pillar. That must have been days ago, though he had no way of knowing under the desert¡¯s eternal sun.

    The exhaustion manifested as a lethargy in his limbs, and a slowness to thought that made him sloppier than normal. If Mickie had been fully rested, that demon would have never been able to shoot him in the gut. As the mortal stumbled back into a run, the sound of music echoed from the hall with the Kin. It was the war song he first heard in the palace, though faint with only a handful of singers contributing. Even so, the music seeped into Mickie¡¯s bones, his back straightening ever so slightly as his stride lengthening.

    Up ahead a staircase came into view and the branded man decided it was time to descend to the next level. He expected Kalistra¡¯s prison to be well guarded, and he had seen nothing of the sort so far. Stepping off the stairs, Mickie came face to face with a pair of harried demons. Instead of trying to fight him, the duo turned on their heels and bolted. The mortal was fast however, his gun up and firing before the demons had taken two steps. One went down in a spray of gore, but the other was just wide of the weapon¡¯s blast. Mickie took off after the remaining enforcer as it dashed down the hall. The fiend was larger than the short imps, but not quite as tall as he was. The branded man¡¯s legs chewed up the distance between them until he was almost within arm¡¯s reach.

    ¡®Lord! He¡¯s here Lord!¡¯

    The cry took Mickie off guard, and he missed his first swipe at the demon. As the fiend made to call out again, the branded man caught it around the back of the neck. He flicked the panicked demon sideways, and it careened into the wall before tripping to the floor. Before his enemy could so much as cry out Mickie was upon it. The steel barrel of his steaming gun swung into the demon¡¯s head, hitting three times before bone gave out.

    The words the fiend had said only registered when he straightened from its corpse. It had called out for its lord. Glancing up, Mickie realised he had almost made it to the end of the hall. Ahead the passage opened into what appeared to be a larger intersection. Echoing from that space, was one of the strangest sounds Mickie had ever heard. It was a low groan, like steel under strain. Only, where stressed metal was constant in its efforts, this noise warbled without rhythm.

    Slowly, the branded man moved up the hall and into the open space. It was indeed in intersection, multiple passages converging upon a large room. On one side the steel gave way to open air, and Mickie caught the familiar sight of a catwalk. That had to be the open interior that hung above the blood lake.

    He hardly had time to do more than register this however, as his attention was drawn to the room¡¯s occupants. Dead enforcers littered the floor, some still in their final throws of death. Amongst them was a grey figure, seeming so small where it lay hunched and unmoving on the dark metal. Close to the dead Kindle Kin was a badly damaged hybrid. With legs warped beyond use, it was from this creature that the odd moaning came. The hybrid tried to drag itself towards its dead companion, letting lose another whine of despairing loss. Steel arms reached out to claw at the floor, but were unable to shift the creature so much as an inch. Strong as the metal Kin was, it was pinned entirely by the foot planted on its back.

    Belphegor stared down at the grieving singer with something that resembled curiosity. The old lord bent down and flipped the metal giant onto its back. For all that it was injured, the Kindle Kin was not helpless. It swiped at Belphegor with a steel claw, and for a moment Mickie hoped he might see the old fiend injured.

    Instead, the head enforcer caught the metal claw about the wrist, and promptly tore the hybrid¡¯s arm off at the elbow. Belphegor did the same to the other arm, then spent a moment examining the Kindle Kin as it flailed helplessly. Mickie watched in silence, knowing he should flee, and knowing that he would not. With an almost gentle touch, Belphegor reached down and grasped the hybrid¡¯s fleshy head. The Kin¡¯s eyes rolled about like a maddened animal¡¯s, until suddenly, they met Mickie¡¯s own. The singer, a peaceful creature that had been warped by a cruel machine, seemed to calm as it looked into the Song Spinner¡¯s eyes. For the briefest of moments, Mickie saw that same bone deep confidence he had felt from the smaller Kin before the assault.

    Belphegor ripped the flesh of the hybrid from its metal shell. It came free with a wet and messy tear. Mickie saw the Kindle Kin¡¯s eyes widen in pain, then fade out of focus as it died. Gore coated cables and machine parts slid free from the body as the old lord lifted its prize high. Belphegor examined the gruesome remains of the hybrid, tilting the head back and forth to get a good look.

    ¡®I heard about the Mechanist¡¯s little experiments, but I must say I never expected to see one on the Seventh.¡¯

    The old lord tossed the dripping flesh aside and turned towards Mickie.

    ¡®I¡¯ve had the palace lockdown undone, and my sources told me about what happened in the ninth circle. Though nobody seemed to know where the pesky Kindle Kin had gotten to.¡¯

    Belphegor¡¯s eyes held none of their usual amusement. The mask had slipped, revealing the true demon beneath.

    ¡®Things would have been easier had you simply talked to me, little enigma. We could have worked together. I have always held a soft spot for your kind.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s gaze fell on the remains of the hybrid, mind still on the calm confidence it displayed before its death. Why did he inspire such feelings in these creatures? Could they not see how he was using them for his own ends? The hollow Mickie had expanded within himself cracked, and pain began to leak in.

    ¡®I gave you so many chances, so many opportunities to open up.¡¯

    Belphegor continued.

    ¡®I reached my hand out to you, and you spat on it.¡¯

    The demon adjusted the sleaves of its suit and stepped off the hybrids body. Mickie saw the cruel intent in its eyes and a spike of fear slid down his back.

    ¡®Well, congratulations, my patience is gone. I tire of you and that accursed gorgon.¡¯

    All Mickie could think about was the singer¡¯s arm on his sleeve, the feelings it projected into him. He knew he could not face Belphegor, knew he should run. He stepped into the room anyway.

    ¡®Not fleeing then? Truly a first for you.¡¯

    Belphegor noted his approached and stopped only a few feet from the hybrid¡¯s corpse. Behind the demon, the open air of the tower¡¯s interior yawned, a catwalk stretching off to some distant wall. To Mickie it looked like the mouth of some great whale, opening to swallow Belphegor whole. If only it could be that easy.

    ¡®Where do you get it?¡¯

    He suddenly found himself asking.

    ¡®Oh? Now you wish to speak?¡¯

    The demon said, pausing in its approach.

    ¡®Very well then, where do I get what?¡¯

    ¡®That utter self-assuredness you drag around like prized horse. The idea that you have some right to know me, know my story. That you think you can drop the pillar without consequences.¡¯

    Belphegor smiled wickedly at him.

    ¡®Believe I have a right? Oh, my dear enigma, I thought you smarter than that. It is not about what I believe, but what I want. They call me Slothful, but I have always thought the title to be a touch misleading.¡¯

    Mickie stopped his own approach several feet from the demon. Subtly he started to trickle power into his weapon, charging for the next strike.

    ¡®You see, it is not lethargy that makes me act so slowly, but patience. For centuries I have bided my time in the black city, watching and waiting. Now, finally, the time has come for me to move. The Sovereign¡¯s obsession with the living world has taken them from the lower circles, and the palace guardians are dead. I shall have it all.¡¯

    Belphegor reached into its jacket and fished out a familiar looking blade. The branded man had last seen it next to the blood lake, during his failed attempt to free Kalistra.

    ¡®First though, I will have your story, little enigma. Even if I have to rip it from your soul personally.¡¯

    The old lord abruptly started forward. Mickie had been expecting the movement, and reacted by shooting it in the head. The empowered blast kicked his arm up and had the mortal taking a step back to keep his balance. Belphegor strolled right the cloud of dark smoke.

    ¡®Ouch.¡¯

    Beyond a layer of dark soot and a few slices, the fiend appeared unharmed. It swung at Mickie with the knife and the branded man danced back from the strike. He sidestepped into Belphegor¡¯s guard and swung his weapon at the demon¡¯s head. It bounced off like he had struck one of the metal walls. Mickie¡¯s eyes had time to widen, before Belphegor¡¯s free hand caught him in the ribs.

    Bones shattered like matchsticks and the mortal was tossed sideways through the air. He hit the ground hard, bouncing and sliding onto the catwalk. For a moment Mickie¡¯s eyes were filled with the web of metal bridges, floor upon floor of them. He coughed and rolled to his feet. There was something wet and heavy in his chest, making it hard to breath. The branded man reached under his shirt and pulled the shattered rib from his lung, just as he had done previously in the arena. Belphegor was walking casually towards him, knife in hand.

    ¡®When I first heard of you, I was worried. The Soul Lord was quite the scary fellow, you know.¡¯

    Mickie coughed up a mouthful of blood and spat it over the catwalk.

    ¡®Fuck yourself.¡¯

    He shot Belphegor again in the head, pumping energy into his gun for another strike. The barrel spun and he fired, once, twice. Before he could get a third shot off the demon was lashing out with its free hand. Mickie tried to dodge aside, but the strike caught him in the jaw. His head snapped back, and he almost stumbled right off the catwalk. Catching himself on the railing, the branded man tried to turn and attack.

    A foot caught him in the ankle, and Mickie gasped as he fell to his knees. Belphegor stepped up to him, wiping its face clean of soot with a small cloth. The demon tucked the little square away and smiled at him. Unlike when he had used the charged strike, the repeated gunshots had done nothing to the demon at all.

    ¡®I think it¡¯s time I brought our little game of cat and mouse to a close.¡¯

    Belphegor said, spinning the rune carved knife in its hand. Mickie said nothing, his eyes falling to the two dead Kindle Kin. Why had they trusted him? Did they not know that all he was good for was pain and suffering? A hand wrapped about the back of Mickie¡¯s neck. He wondered if the Conductor was still alive, if Miz-Mag was bringing more Kin to the fight, if that glint of bronze he spied amongst the catwalks had only been his imagination. Almost on reflex, the mortal began to pump power into his weapon, his soul a conduit between gun and pendant.

    ¡®Remember, that I offered you a better way. What happens now is not my fault, but yours, dear enigma.¡¯

    Belphegor said, and stabbed Mickie in the chest. The branded man gasped as the knife slid through bone and flesh to pierce his heart. The steel was hot, scalding his insides as something strange slithered forth from the blade. It wormed through his heart and into his very soul.

    Show me.

    The voice was Belphegor¡¯s, coming from within Mickie very body. The demon was in him, in his very soul.

    Show me.

    The lord of sloth grasped the mortal from the inside out and demanded. Mickie was paralysed, unable to move, unable to think.

    Show me who you are.

    Foreign tendrils of power riffled through his consciousness, searching for something. Seeking the story of the man sent to the bottom of Hell. Mickie tried to push back, but it was hopeless. He was a dear caught in a bear trap. The power dragged forth memories he had buried deep within himself, and the mortal was dragged out of the desert tower. He was sent tumbling back, back to a time when he still walked the world above, back before that same world had broken him.

 33 â€“ The Boy that Bent

    The vineyards stretched across the slope, drinking in the same sun that warmed the boy¡¯s face. He sat on a picnic rug beneath a broad tree, head in the lap of a woman with long dark hair. She hummed idly as she ran fingers through curls of the same shade as her own. It was a rare thing for the boy to see his mother so relaxed. She always seemed to be worked up these days, not angry per se, just noticeably out of sorts. Her calm was such that the boy hesitated to speak for a time, unwilling to see the familiar worry lines crinkle into place about her eyes. Above all things however, children are impatient, and eventually the boy¡¯s desire to speak got the better of him.

    ¡®Ma, what happens when we die?¡¯

    The woman¡¯s eyes opened slowly and met the boy¡¯s own. A blue so deep they were almost black. Contrary to the child¡¯s fears, his mother¡¯s expression did not cloud with worry. Instead, she smiled down at him, features warm as the sun above.

    ¡®Are you thinking about Poppil?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah.¡¯

    Poppil, the old family dog, had died earlier in the week. The boy had gone to play with the animal, as he always did after his classes, only to find it cold and lifeless. It had been his first time experiencing the death of a loved one, and the boy did not care for the feeling one bit.

    ¡®Well, I¡¯m sure a good dog like Poppil would have gone to puppy heaven.¡¯

    ¡®You think so?¡¯

    ¡®I do.¡¯

    She gently brushed the hair from his face and kissed his forehead.

    ¡®If I die, will I go to puppy heaven too?¡¯

    His mother¡¯s expression froze at the question, and the worry lines creased her face. There was a long moment in which the boy tried to understand what he had said wrong.

    ¡®You will. I am going to make sure of it.¡¯

    The sound of footsteps came from nearby, and the pair turned to see a young girl stomping their way. Her features were narrower and sharper than their own, exacerbating the haughty expression etched upon her face.

    ¡®You aren¡¯t still crying about Poppil, are you Mickie?¡¯

    A flare of irritation only siblings could instil pulsed through the boy, and he scrambled out of his mother¡¯s lap.

    ¡®No. I didn¡¯t even cry at all.¡¯

    The young girl looked down her nose at him.

    ¡®Did not cry at all. Speak properly.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s nostril¡¯s flared and he prepared to pounce on his sister. She might act high and mighty, but he knew her weakness. Lucia was unreasonably susceptible to being tickled. A gentle hand on the boy¡¯s arm stopped him before he could make his move.

    ¡®Lu, do not antagonise your brother because he cared about Poppil. Mickie, there is nothing wrong with feeling sad about a loss.¡¯

    The two children stared one another down for a long moment, before giving their mother shamefaced looks.

    ¡®Oh, enough of that you two. Let¡¯s see what you got, Lucia.¡¯

    Fight defused; the woman smiled at the pair of them. Mickie sullenly sat back down, while his sister produced a picnic basket and placed it on the rug. She removed the wicker lid to reveal a collection of freshly picked grapes. The boy¡¯s nose crinkled in distaste; he could tell they were not quite ripe. For some reason, both his mother and sister shared a preference for the sour over the sweet.

    ¡®When will Papa be home?¡¯

    Lucia asked, cutting through Mickie¡¯s explanation of the perfect throwing stick he found earlier. The young boy glared at his sister but kept silent. He too wanted to know the answer to this particular question.

    ¡®Later tonight, he called while you were with Professor Mildrew.¡¯

    Lucia¡¯s expression soured at the mention of their least favourite tutor, but soon shifted to match Mickie¡¯s burgeoning excitement.

    ¡®Will he bring presents do you think?¡¯

    The young boy asked, and his mother chuckled softly.

    ¡®I¡¯m sure he will bring a gift for each of you. Now Mickie, what was it you were saying about that stick?¡¯

    The family spent the afternoon drinking in the warm sunshine and snacking on grapes. It was one of the last good memories Mickie had. That evening his mother allowed the children to stay up and wait for their father to get home. Just as predicted, he brought the both of them gifts, and a young Mickie spent a pleasant hour or so playing with the small toy before heading to bed. It was late, and he was soon drifting off, only to be rudely awoken what felt like moments later. Lucia stood by his bedside, scowling down at him as she shook his shoulder.

    ¡®W-what?¡¯

    He muttered, and received a hissed shushing as a reply. Lucia put a finger on her lips and leaned in close.

    ¡®Ma and Pa are talking. It¡¯s something important.¡¯

    She pulled at her brother until Mickie fumbled his way out of bed. Lucia loved to play at spy, and was always sneaking about the house at night. It was not an uncommon occurrence for her to drag her brother along for the ride.

    ¡®Lu, I¡¯m tired¡­¡¯

    The boy mumbled, earning a glare from his sister. He had learned it was generally easier to go along with her devious schemes when they rolled around. Lucia could hold a grudge better than anyone Mickie had met, and was inventive when it came to delivering payback. The two siblings made their way through the villa to the arched doorway of the conservatory.

    Pausing by the open entrance, Mickie took a subtle look inside. His father was sitting upright on a soft chair, looking out at the dark hillside while his mother paced. Lucia gave him no further time to peek than that, as her hand closed about the back of his neck, and she hauled him out of sight.

    ¡®I don¡¯t understand¡­ Why now of all times, with the Glascone on our doorstep?¡¯

    It was the voice of Mickie¡¯s mother, laced with agitation. The young boy¡¯s ears perked up at the mention of the rival family. His father had told some scary stories about the Glascone in the past.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know, but by all appearances, it¡¯s gone smoothly. Claudia¡¯s already making moves to fight back.¡¯

    ¡®And what about us, this won¡¯t affect us right, won¡¯t hurt our plans?¡¯

    There was desperation in his mother¡¯s voice now, and it made Mickie¡¯s shoulders stiffen. He wanted to walk into the conservatory and hug her. Lucia sensed his thoughts and grasped his elbow tightly, pinning Mickie in place.

    ¡®Fran, you know as well as I do what this means. Tomin was one thing, but with Claudia at the helm¡­¡¯

    ¡®No, don¡¯t you say it. Don¡¯t you say another word. Forget Tomin, forget Claudia, we are done with them. Everything is in place Anton, all we need to do is go. We can be free of this, our children can be¡­¡¯

    His mother cut off, and Mickie heard her take a slow, steadying breath.

    ¡®We can still make this work.¡¯

    ¡®Fran, I¡¯m sorry, but we can¡¯t. Claudia has just taken control, and she is looking to get her pound of flesh. If we run now, she will hunt us to the ends of the earth, just to show the rest that she can.¡¯

    Silence fell over the house. A long quiet into which Mickie¡¯s stomach sank. He was too young to truly understand what was happening here, but he understood the emotions with which his parent¡¯s spoke. When his mother finally broke the silence, her voice was laced with venom.

    ¡®You are a coward Anton. You are a coward that waited too long to do the right thing. I will not let our children grow up in this world. I won¡¯t do.¡¯

    ¡®Fran, please.¡¯

    ¡®No, just¡­ no. Not another day. If you won¡¯t act, then I will.¡¯

    The sudden sound of footsteps had Lucia dragging Mickie away from the door. They hid in the shadow of a large plant as their mother strolled from the conservatory with purpose. Behind her stumbled their father, a stricken look on his face.

    ¡®Fran, wait, what are you doing?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m going to talk with Claudia.¡¯

    ¡®Now?¡¯

    ¡®Yes now. While I¡¯m gone you need to make sure everything¡¯s in order. When I return tomorrow, we are leaving.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s mother walked down the hall, stopping by the villa¡¯s exit to get her coat and purse. The sight of her, framed in silhouette by the night sky, would stay with him. Even in the years to come, when her features grew hazy in his mind¡¯s eye, he would still remember this moment. Recall how tall she stood; how imposing and unstoppable she had seemed.

    It was the last time he ever saw her alive.

    <hr>

    Life can change. It can shift so suddenly that you do not even realise you are falling until you taste the dirt on your tongue. Mickie¡¯s mother did not return the next day, nor the day after that. At one point their father had them gather their things, only to set them by the door. Anton had paced like a caged animal by the entrance, before turning and telling them to go play in the vineyards.

    On the morning of the third day, the family came. Three black vans pulled into the villa¡¯s driveway, and multiple people Mickie vaguely recognised piled out. He and Lucia were separated from their father and piled into one of the vans. They drove to the old mansion in the hills, the seat of his family¡¯s power. Mickie had tried to ask what was going on, but was cuffed hard across the face and told to keep quiet. Lucia had held him tight afterwards to help muffle his tears.

    They reached the mansion and were taken straight into one of the guest rooms. When Mickie and Lucia had come in the past, they were normally housed in a family suite with their mother and father. This time the siblings were locked in a cramped, dank room with a single mouldy mattress. The boy had sat on the floor and wept. He cried until an agitated Lucia grabbed his shoulders and shook them violently.

    ¡®Shut up. Alright. Just, shut up.¡¯

    Mickie sniffled and looked at his sister.

    ¡®Why are they doing this? Aren¡¯t they our family?¡¯

    His sister sighed and ran a hand through her hair. For all that Mickie was nervous and panicked, she appeared calm and cool.

    ¡®Don¡¯t you remember what we heard the other night? Ma and Pa were planning on running.¡¯

    ¡®So?¡¯

    She gave him and incredulous look.

    ¡®So, you don¡¯t run from the family. Especially not when someone like Claudia has just taken over.¡¯

    Mickie just sniffed and looked at his feet. Lucia huffed and came to kneel before him. She gently reached out and took her brother¡¯s head in her hands, tilting it up so his eyes were level with hers.

    ¡®Mik, we are in a lot of danger here. Whatever Ma did, she obviously made the family real mad. Do you understand?¡¯

    ¡®Do you think we will get to see her?¡¯

    ¡®I¡­ I¡¯m not sure. I don¡¯t know what happened, or what they are going to do with us, but we need to be careful.¡¯

    ¡®Where¡¯s Pa?¡¯

    Anger flashed behind his sister¡¯s features, and she shot to her feet.

    ¡®Rotting in a cellar for all I care. Mickie, listen to me, we need to be careful here. You need to do what I say. Can you do that?¡¯

    ¡®Okay.¡¯

    She gave him a sharp smile.

    ¡®Good. First thing, no more crying. Things could get tough, but we can¡¯t seem weak.¡¯

    Mickie gave another sniff and whipped his eyes.

    ¡®I can¡¯t help it though. I just get sad sometimes.¡¯

    Lucia paused in her pacing and gave him a long look.

    ¡®Maybe then, you need to lock it away. That sadness you feel, take it, and lock it in a box. Hide it away so nobody but you knows it¡¯s there. Can you do that?¡¯

    ¡®O-okay.¡¯

    The small boy straightened as he did as he was bid. He took a slow breath and nodded.

    ¡®Okay.¡¯

    He repeated, clearly this time. Lucia flashed him a smile, though it seemed to Mickie to be a false one.

    ¡®Good. Next up, whatever happens you let me do the talking, okay? If you have to speak, stick to yes or no.¡¯

    The young boy frowned.

    ¡®Alright, I guess. Why can¡¯t I speak though?¡¯

    Lucia stopped her pacing and faced him dead on.

    ¡®Because if we say the wrong thing here, they¡¯re going to kill us.¡¯

    After a few hours the siblings were taken from their small room and led through the mansion. Mickie did as he was bid, not saying a word to anyone. The members of the family varied in reaction to the sight of the two children. Some appeared shamefaced, avoiding their eyes or turning swiftly away. Others were angry, glaring or cursing under their breath as he and Lucia passed. Eventually the pair came to a door, and after a swift knock, were shoved through.

    Inside was a comfortably appointed study, a plush sitting area overlooking the mansion¡¯s grounds. Upon the couch sat a matronly woman in her mid to late forties. Her hair was still sleek and dark, but also coloured with an infrequent tinge of grey. Mickie recognised her from prior visits, this was Claudia, the family¡¯s new leader.

    ¡®Ah, children, welcome. Please have a seat.¡¯

    The woman waved towards a sofa opposite her own.

    ¡®Thank you.¡¯

    Lucia replied tersely, and led the way to one of the chairs. The siblings sat, wary of the woman before them. Claudia had not spent much time in the core of their family¡¯s power, so their interactions with her were limited. The matronly woman smiled warmly at them and pushed a small tray with cookies across a mahogany coffee table.

    Mickie might not have eaten in hours, but his stomach was twisted into too many knots at the moment. The thought of the food only made him queasy. His sister must have been of a similar mind, because she kept her hands folded in her lap.

    ¡®May I ask why we have been brought here?¡¯

    Lucia asked, attention fixed on the older woman. Claudia frowned at their refusal to eat, but swiftly regained her smile.

    ¡®Brought here? Children, you are of the family, this is your home.¡¯

    ¡®Then why are we being held against our will?¡¯

    Mickie felt a surge of pride at the strength behind his sister¡¯s voice. She spoke as their mother did when telling someone off. The young boy¡¯s back straightened and he adopted a serious frown of his own.

    ¡®Against your will? Oh no, I am sorry if it appeared this way. All of this was really for your own safety. There was an incident, and the family worried for your wellbeing.¡¯

    The frown on the boy¡¯s face became a touch more genuine. Incident? What kind of incident?

    ¡®It was your mother dears, she died, and we think the Glascone are responsible.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s vision tunnelled, and the world grew distant. Everything became fuzzy, like he was a poorly tuned radio.

    ¡®Assassinated on her way home. We were worried you might be next.¡¯

    His mother, dead? The thought was like a molten ball of lead, scalding and heavy to hold. Dead like Poppil had died. Gone for good. No more evening walks, no more piano sing alongs, no more late-night treats, nothing. It could not be true, it was not possible.

    ¡®It is the sort of thing we have come to expect from the Glascone. They are too fearful to fight openly, and so they resort to these disgusting tactics.¡¯

    Anger bubbled up as Claudia continued to prattle on, that same matronly smile plastered across her face. Mickie opened his mouth, prepared to shout her down, to call her a liar and demand she bring their mother back to them. A sharp squeeze on the boy¡¯s leg stopped him short. Mickie glanced to his sister and found her shaking her head, jaw clenched and eyes hard.

    ¡®I know it must be hard to hear, but that¡¯s the truth of it. Do you understand?¡¯

    The woman was smiling softly now, drinking in the reactions of the two children with sparkling eyes.

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    Lucia said tersely, rubbing at her face with a forearm.

    ¡®Good. You are both brave children, and you are of the family. So do not fret that your mother is gone, because you are here with me now.¡¯

    Claudia smiled with teeth so white they were blinding.

    ¡®I will be your mother in her place.¡¯

    <hr>

    Without even needing to speak on the topic, both children knew the truth of their mother¡¯s death. Claudia had murdered her for daring to leave the family behind. They knew it, and could never speak of the fact if they wanted to avoid a similar fate. Their father was to be sent to a distant plantation, under the pretence of keeping him out of the Glascone¡¯s reach. Lucia had been cold during their parting, but Mickie loved his father as he loved his mother. Anton had smiled down at his son and given him one final piece of advice.

    ¡®Mickie, the world is a hard place. A cold place. Your mother and I tried to shield you and Lucia from it, and we failed, I failed. I¡¯m sorry I was not as strong as your mother. The next few years are going to be hard, especially on you. Things will happen that feel wrong, and you might feel like you have to stand against them. Listen to me when I tell you, you need to bend. If you do not bend, then you will break. Do you understand?¡¯

    At the time Mickie had nodded like he understood, even though he did not. This was the final time either of the children ever saw their father. It would still be a couple of years before illness claimed him, but Anton would spend all that time in exile.

    After their father left, Claudia decided the children needed to expand their education. During the days they were split up, and Mickie was taught weapons with a group of younger relatives. They ostracised him, not knowing the reason he was a black sheep, but understanding enough to shun him all the same.

    The young boy did not mind, he could handle the occasional beating. It was preferable to the task required of him in the afternoons. After lunch, he was sent to assist in a local abattoir run by the family. There, he would perform the gruesome task of killing and butchering pigs. Unaccustomed to violence, Mickie had refused to work at first. Instead, he threw up and fled outside for the duration of his shift.

    That evening he learnt what it meant to displease his new mother. Claudia told him she was disappointed in him, that a good boy did as his elders asked. Then she had him locked in the pit. A damp stone hole built long ago, the pit had only a bucket of water, and drain in which Mickie could relieve himself. He spent three days in solitude there, all for refusing to kill when it was required.

    The next time the boy went to the abattoir, he bent as his father had told him to, and did as he was bid. For a time after that, the siblings seemed to find a balance. Mickie eventually found he no longer had to bend to do what was required of him. The abattoir simply became another task in the day. That was of course when Claudia decided he needed to step into the next stage of his learning.

    She brought the now teenage boy to a remote cellar and presented him with a man. Naked, gagged, coated in bruises and shuddering with sobs, he was a pitiable thing. Claudia handed Mickie a captive bolt pistol, the kind he had used innumerable time before at the abattoir.

    ¡®This man, my dear, is our enemy. I want you to kill him.¡¯

    The teen had assumed as much when he saw the pistol.

    ¡®What did he do?¡¯

    Claudia sighed in disappointment, and Mickie flinched at the sound.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡®A good boy would simply do as he¡¯s bid. If you must know, this man is one of the Glascone. He is one of the people who killed you mother, Mickie.¡¯

    The teen wondered for a second why he even bothered asking. Claudia delighted in telling lies or half-truths. Oftentimes the falsehood would be readily apparent, sitting out in the open like bait in a trap. If anyone ever called the matronly woman on her lie, she would laugh, say it was just some fun and apologise. Then she would ruin the person who dared to question her word.

    ¡®I see.¡¯

    Was all Mickie said in reply. He had learnt it was best to be terse with Claudia, the less you said, the less there was for her to find offence with. Approaching the bound man, Mickie kept a tight hold of the box in his chest as fear and disgust raged. The captive had tear tracks etched into the muck on his face, though his sobbing had now run its course. In his eyes, the teen saw pain and terror, but also resignation. Whoever this really was, they seemed to have accepted their fate.

    Perhaps that should have eased the task for Mickie, but his hand still shook as he raised the captive-bolt pistol. The young man stood with the device pressed to the man¡¯s forehead, finger resting on the trigger, and found himself unable to go any further. He could not do it, could not bend this far, he was sure of it. If Mickie pulled this trigger, he would break.

    ¡®I won¡¯t.¡¯

    From behind there came a heavy sigh, though Mickie could almost feel the glee it hid.

    ¡®Are you sure dear? This man helped kill you mother.¡¯

    For a moment, the teen contemplated turning the tool in his hands upon the accursed woman. Claudia was fully grown, sure, but he had been training to fight for years now. All he would need to do was press it to her forehead, and this could all be over. Except they would kill him for it, him and his sister. Mickie lowered the pistol and stepped back from the bound man. His matronly master came forward and gently took the weapon from his hands.

    ¡®I wish for you to be one of my arms, child, and as my arm, you must obey my will.¡¯

    Claudia raised the pistol to the man¡¯s head and pulled the trigger.

    Mickie received a full week in the pit for his disobedience. He raged and screamed within, swore he would kill Claudia, that he would kill the whole accursed family. When he emerged however, he was weak, meek and half starved. The matronly woman was there with a bowl of stew. She hugged him and told him how sorry she was, how things would be better if he would only listen to her. In years to come, when he recalled the moment, Mickie would be sickened by the spark of affection he had felt for the woman.

    Afterward, before even giving him a chance to shower, Claudia took Mickie to a holding facility, one of the family¡¯s darker places. The haggard boy was presented with a man that looked even worse than he did. Bloody and broken, the captive seemed to struggle getting enough air through his mouth to breath. Mickie was once again handed a captive-bolt pistol and told to kill. Even after his time spent in the pit, he hesitated. It was then that the man¡¯s eyes seemed to clear, and his cracked lips breath out a single, shaky word.

    ¡®Please.¡¯

    And Mickie found he could bend even further.

    <hr>

    Acting as Claudia¡¯s executioner was not a stable role. Sometimes it would only be a few days between kills, and other times months would pass. While Mickie found he could do what was required, he was never able to let the deaths fall into the category of work. Perhaps it was the infrequent nature of the task, or just some intrinsic repulsion within him. Whatever the case, every time the teen bent himself to pull that trigger, a piece of him cracked away.

    Eventually, the box in Mickie¡¯s chest could not hold pressure of it all, and he broke down. It was then that Lucia taught her brother to hollow himself out, propping Mickie up to continue in the name of survival. Claudia graduated him from captive-bolt weapons to outright firearms, and soon the young man found he had cracked enough away from himself that he could bend easily to the task.

    Outside of protecting his sanity, hollowing out his emotions had an added benefit while training. Mickie had always been proficient at fighting, but sunk into the cold ice of logic, he was downright lethal. The others who ostracised him had their feelings exacerbated by jealousy. Unable to bully him effectively in lessons, they soon took measures into their own hands.

    Mickie had left the mansion to walk the grounds, taking a chance to get away from the family he hated. Following a familiar route through a shaded glen, he was stopped by three figures. Two boys and a girl stepped out to block the path before him. They were older than he was, bordering upon adulthood, and each carried a long piece of rebar.

    ¡®Bit dangerous, isn¡¯t it? Claudia¡¯s favourite out on his own like this.¡¯

    The teen said nothing, examining the larger trio. Hollow as he was, Mickie found the prospect of violence not wholly unappealing. He had performed his role as executioner earlier in the day, and emotion boiled just out of reach beyond his calm centre.

    ¡®You gone deaf or something, listen when your betters are talking.¡¯

    One of the boys stepped forward, rebar held ready to strike. Mickie stayed where he was, something akin to joy coming over him. These walks through the garden never truly relaxed him. If anything, the peace of it all only made the roiling of his own emotions more pressing. A fight though, that was something he could lose himself in.

    As the assailant stepped within reach Mickie¡¯s hand darted into a pocket and removed a switchblade. The older boy drew back his arm to swing and the teen stepped into his guard. Mickie caught the wrist before the rebar hit him and drove his knife into the boy¡¯s gut. Fingers went slack and metal thudded into the soft soil. Mickie¡¯s jealous classmate looked down at a growing stain of red on his shirt, mouthing words silently.

    The shorter boy let his knife slide free as his assailant stepped away. His hollow was not perfect, oftentimes he lost control of it and things slipped in. Mickie felt the fury, and it burned through everything else. For years he had dealt with his classmates. All the bullying, all the abuse, all for the sake of his and Lucia¡¯s survival. While they learnt how to best shake down business late on a loan payment, he had been taught the best methods of killing a person.

    Mickie reached down and scooped up the dropped rebar. Behind their dumbstruck companion, the other two assailants were realising something was wrong. Their voices rose with increasingly intense shouts of alarm. The younger boy looked them over, and for the first time, bent to a task not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

    <hr>

    The three bodies were discovered a few days later by a groundskeeper wondering at the smell. Mickie had spent the intervening time in much the same way as always. The only person he had told of his actions was Lucia, and she had been downright apoplectic when she found out. His sister believed he was endangering their position within the family, something she had apparently been cultivating over the last few years. Mickie was not particularly concerned what the family thought of him. They could all drop dead, and he would hardly bat an eye.

    When Claudia called for him, Lucia really began to panic. Again, her younger brother was confused by the reaction. He said nothing as she alternatingly berated him and instructed him on what he needed to tell the older woman. Mickie thought it was all a bit over the top. He had known Claudia for long enough now, and could reason she would not put him to death. For all that the trio of dead teens had been jealous, they had also been right in a sense. He really was her favourite little pet project.

    When Mickie got to the matronly woman¡¯s study, the door was already open. She awaited him with a warm smile and a tray of tea and cookies. The teen entered and sat on the plush chair opposite Claudia¡¯s own. He took a cup of tea when it was offered and sipped on the murky liquid. Claudia did not approve of those who refused food when it was offered.

    ¡®My dear, have you heard of the recent news?¡¯

    The head of the family said, her voice low with grief even as her eyes twinkled with something close to amusement.

    ¡®I heard. Three deaths.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, and within our own grounds no less. Such a devastating tragedy.¡¯

    Mickie nodded, but did not speak. He could not be certain Claudia knew he was the killer, and did not wish to give himself away.

    ¡®Rumours abound about who could perform such an act, of course. Yet there is a distinct lack of evidence.¡¯

    The woman took a long pull from her teacup and sighed with something like contentment.

    ¡®On side note, I was forced to release young Edoardo from service yesterday.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s eyes shot from the coffee table to meet Claudia¡¯s own. He had an intimate understanding of what released from service usually meant.

    ¡®The cleaner?¡¯

    ¡®Indeed dear, he was spreading some rather unsavoury rumours regarding our dearly departed. In particular, he claims he saw you coming back from a walk around the time that they would have died.¡¯

    Claudia leant towards him, and Mickie knew he had been figured out. Rather than admit to the crime, he remained passive.

    ¡®I see.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, I would not worry though, dear. Upon hearing such intolerable slander, I had a private chat with young Edoardo and resolved the issue. You see, I think I know who is responsible.¡¯

    ¡®Oh?¡¯

    Claudia¡¯s expression grew grave, but her eyes still held that mischievous twinkle.

    ¡®Someone I trust reported to me that they saw a small band of Glascones fleeing our mansion, if you can believe it.¡¯

    She sighed and gave a slow shake of the head.

    ¡®The enemy coming on our very doorstep. Truly, there is no low to which that family will not stoop.¡¯

    Mickie realised, with a growing sense of unease, that the glint in Claudia¡¯s eyes was not mischief. It was pleasure. She knew he had killed those children, and was happy about it. Not only that, but she was spinning her own version of the truth to cover for him. Mickie had expected many things when he walked into the matronly woman¡¯s study, but approval was not amongst them.

    ¡®An attack such as this cannot go unanswered, of course. We will need to ensure the Glascone suffer as we have, and, my dear, I would have you help deliver the blow.

    So it was, that Mickie graduated from executioner to assassin. Not long after his meeting with Claudia, the teen was provided with equipment and tasked with killing a member of their rival family. His target was the manager of a drug lab that they had uncovered. Mickie was told to remove anyone else who looked like they might oppose a change in management.

    The task was completed with a body count of five; namely the manager, three guards, and an overzealous worker. Mickie found it surprisingly easy to bend for the task. Something about his opponents having weapons of their own shifted how it felt. Only the worker stuck with him. A young woman with wild eyes, who had struck out with a scalpel. She had hardly made it more than a couple of steps before Mickie downed her. The teen could not understand what her intention had been, though he knew the emotion that drove her. Even now those same feelings pounded at the hollow he maintained within himself.

    With the enemy down, another team came in and stripped the lab of anything valuable. Claudia might not be able to commandeer the location, but she could certainly make use of all the valuable equipment and product. This marked the first of many such operations for Mickie. Over the following years he became something of a bogeyman to the family¡¯s enemies. Not every mission went smoothly, nor was every kill so easy for the teen to perform. He bent to do what was required, but as time went on the strain built. Mickie¡¯s psyche became worn as an old rag, and he began to struggle keeping the storm of emotion at bay.

    Until finally, a task came that pushed him over the edge. Only a few days past his eighteenth birthday, Mickie was told to kill a key contact for the Glascone. It was a simple task, the sort of thing he had done plenty of times before. Late at night, the young man broke into his target¡¯s apartment. The security system was inactive, and he found the light in the study still on. Mickie had been trying to move quietly, but the rooms occupant seemed to have preternatural hearing. He was just stepping up to the open door when a voice echoed out.

    ¡®Annie, I thought I told you it was only one story tonight.¡¯

    Within the room a chair swivelled to face the assassin. For a moment he locked eyes with a young woman, registering the spark of fear and panic as it blossomed within her. Mickie put two rounds into the left side of her chest. His target¡¯s eyes widened, and she collapsed halfway out of the chair, crumpling to the floor. Just like that, the job was done. The young man was already halfway out of the apartment when a small voice echoed from down a darkened hallway.

    ¡®Mama?¡¯

    Mickie froze like deer in the headlights. There came the patter of small footsteps, and a child appeared, running into the light of the open study.

    ¡®Mama, what happened?¡¯

    The child, a young girl, disappeared into the study. Mickie could not move, could not breath. As the cries within the room grew louder and louder, he found that he was no longer a hardened killer. The young man was instead just a small boy, staring at an open door as his mother walked away. Mickie had not seen her die, he had not been forced to watch her bleed out on the floor.

    The assassin stood frozen for long enough that the sobs and shouts from the room grew quiet. A sniffling figure darted out of the study, panicked and frightened. She cast about, and for the first time, saw Mickie standing partway to the door. Anyone in their world knew what black clad figure in the dark meant, so, when people saw him, they typically reacted with fear or anger. Yet, the small girl did not scream or shout, she did not attack or flee. Instead, she looked up at him with the small eyes of a scared child, widening with hope at the sight of an adult.

    ¡®P-please help me. My mama. T-the doctor, I can¡¯t remember the number for the doctor.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s father had told him that if you don¡¯t bend, then you break. For years, the boy had followed that advice. No matter how cracked and twisted he became, he had bent. That night, under eyes free of judgement, yet heavy with the weight of his sins, Mickie finally snapped. The hollow he had been keeping up for years crumbled, and all the emotion crashed upon him in a terrible wave.

    He did not even realise he was running until he was partway down the street. The boy ran from the small town where he had performed his job. He ran into a stretch of forest so thick it blocked all but the most determined strands of moonlight. Eventually, his breathing gave out and Mickie stumbled into a tree. He spun and landed hard on a cluster of gnarled roots. Moaning with pain far beyond anything physical, the boy curled in on himself and began to sob.

    Mickie wished he had run into the car with his mother, died with her then and been done with it. He wished he called Claudia a liar when they first met, forced her to kill him the way she killed his mother. He wished he had simply refused to work at the abattoir, and let them lock him in the pit until he rotted and died.

    The child¡¯s face swam behind his sealed eyelids. The hope that had bloomed on her face upon seeing him. Mickie had done to her what had been done to him. He had killed her mother and made her watch. Something new coalesced in the young man at that moment, a seed of something sticky and dark that would always be within him. Loathing took its place in his heart. Loathing for the family which had taken his parents from him, and loathing for Claudia who forced him to bend until he broke. Above both of those however, Mickie loathed who he had become, and mourned the boy he once was.

    He remembered being the child who had cried when the family dog died. A boy who might have reacted just as that little girl had. Someone who could implicitly trust in others, who believed that even a black clad figure in the night might help, if only they were asked. Mickie shuddered out sobs into the soil until he could cry no more. Eventually, even the tide of emotions receded, leaving the young man broken and wrung out on the forest floor.

    Mickie picked himself up, and noticed sunlight filtering in through the dense canopy. He lifted a sleeve and checked his watch to see it was late morning. Well past the planned time for a pickup, he started the long walk back to the mansion.

    <hr>

    It took him the entire day to trek home. Mickie could have called a taxi to hurry things along, but opted to take the opportunity to think. There was something different within him now. Like a stick that had snapped, his shaped had broken and changed. Into what though, he was unsure. The hollow within that he had spent his whole life maintaining felt unnecessary. After last night he had no emotions left to keep out.

    Stars were bright in the sky when Mickie finally slipped over the outer wall of his family¡¯s grounds. Unwilling to be seen by even his own kin, the young man slunk over to the house and clambered up a rickety pipe to reach his room. The space was bland, not nearly as large as he could have acquired, but accessible through more circumspect means. Mickie took the chance to shower and change before exiting. He hurried through the halls. Being seen by others was inevitable, he just needed to get one thing done before he was summoned.

    Lucia¡¯s room was everything her brothers was not. Spacious and tastefully appointed, it was as much of a mask as anything else in the young woman¡¯s life. Where Mickie had dealt with their treatment by pushing everything aside, Lucia had managed by hiding it all under layers of falsehood. All that subterfuge cracked however, when Mickie¡¯s sister opened the door to find him standing exhausted on her threshold.

    The look of pure relief was a rare show of genuine emotion, and lasted as long as it took to drag him inside. When Lucia clicked the door shut and wheeled on him, she had on her usual air of mild dissatisfaction.

    ¡®Mik, you missed your rendezvous.¡¯

    ¡®I noticed.¡¯

    ¡®What happened? Did the job go sideways?¡¯

    Mickie gave his sister a long look, searching for another glimpse beneath the mask. He saw nothing but disapproval.

    ¡®Job was alright, it¡¯s just, I¡­¡¯

    The young man paused, unsure of what he had intended to say next. If he mentioned leaving a witness behind, then that child would not last the day. Lucia was cold, and did what was required to advance within the family. Alternatively, he could not tell her of his breakdown. Not because it posed a risk, but because Mickie was unsure how to encapsulate his experience into words.

    ¡®Mik, are you alright?¡¯

    Concern creased the corners of Lucia¡¯s eyebrows, a tiny indication of her true feelings.

    ¡®Yeah, I¡¯m fine, I just wanted to ask you something is all.¡¯

    ¡®And that is?¡¯

    Lucia¡¯s features slid into something more genuine, and Mickie realised he must really be worrying her if she was slipping so substantially. He deliberated on what to say, before deciding to simply rip the Band-Aid off.

    ¡®Do you want to run away?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry?¡¯

    Her concern shifted to confusion.

    ¡®Run away. You know, skip town, start somewhere new.¡¯

    Lucia¡¯s mask slid slowly back into place as her surprise settled.

    ¡®You want to flee the family?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, why not?¡¯

    ¡®Why not¡­ Mik, you do recall the plan that destroyed our mother and father, don¡¯t you?¡¯

    Mickie shrank back a little at the hint of anger that leaked into her voice.

    ¡®Of course I do Lu. It¡¯s part of why I want to go.¡¯

    ¡®You want to die like they did?¡¯

    She said, anger rising.

    ¡®No, not that. It¡¯s just, don¡¯t you think it would have been good if they succeeded?¡¯

    His sister paused for a moment, reigning in her frustration.

    ¡®Sure, it would have been lovely. Only they failed and left us to the mercy of the family.

    ¡®I don¡¯t think we would fail.¡¯

    Mickie meant it too. Most of the family looked at him with fearful awe. They would be reluctant in the extreme to come after him. An idea occurred to the young man.

    ¡®I could kill Claudia. She might not let us go, but if she were dead¡­¡¯

    Lucia slapped him across the face. The move was so out of character for his reserved sister that Mickie never saw it coming. He felt a flicker of anger ignite, though it died abruptly when he looked into her eyes. Lucia¡¯s mask was gone, and her features were twisted with fear.

    ¡®Never say that again.¡¯

    She hissed.

    ¡®For years I have worked to keep us alive, to keep you alive. Do you think the favouritism we have received was some kind of accident?¡¯

    Lucia never let herself slip like this. Her eyes were wide with anger, lips shaking with emotion.

    ¡®Lu, I¡­¡¯

    ¡®Shut up, just shut up. All you have had to do is succeed; do as you were told while I handled everything else. While I¡­¡¯

    She took a shaky breath.

    ¡®Mickie. You say you want to run like our parents wanted. Well, I¡¯ll tell you something. Running away was not what they wanted, not really. It¡¯s what they believed they could manage using all their meagre strength and influence. What they really wanted, was to be rid of this family.¡¯

    Mickie took an uncertain step back as Lucia closed upon him.

    ¡®Everything I have done has been to that end. While you played puppy, I have played serpent. You say you want to run away? You say you want to kill Claudia? Those are the options our parents considered. The options that got them killed. They are not the options I will take.¡¯

    Lucia straightened and her face regained some of its composure.

    ¡®I do not know what happened to you on your last job Mickie, but whatever it was, you need to let it go. Trust me, and do not do anything stupid. Do not compromise everything I have worked for.¡¯

    And with that, their conversation was over. Mickie did not even get the chance to say another word before the door was slamming shut in his face. The young man walked back to his room in half a daze. He had expected resistance from Lucia, maybe even a little anger. That outburst though, had been something deeper. Like his own breakdown, it had come from a place she tried to keep hidden away.

    As Mickie walked however, his startlement shifted into anger. The implications of what she had said settled upon him, and lit a cold fire in his chest. Lucia told him that all he had needed to do was his job, that he had needed to do was succeed. Is that what she thought his years of bending had been? His sister must have seen the impact it was having on him, must have known how he was warping himself for their safety.

    Memories of conversations passed came back to him. Lucia always telling him to bear it, to keep pushing for the sake of survival. She had taught him to hollow himself out, directed Mickie to break himself rather than consider escape. Lucia was willing to let him destroy himself, if it would allow her own schemes to come to fruition. As the young man stepped into his room, he felt the gurgling seed of loathing expand within him, growing to include his sister.

    <hr>

    When the summons finally came from Claudia, Mickie was seething mass of anger. He kept the emotion in check as he walked to the matronly leader¡¯s study. Even so, the looks sent his way were wary and fearful, as if the other residents could sense the emotion within him.

    Mickie entered the study with the same perfunctory movements as always. Knock, wait to be called. Enter, wait for a chair to be offered. Sit, accept the cup of tea. Sip.

    ¡®My dear, I was so very worried for you. What happened to send your mission so awry?¡¯

    The young man starred hard at the coffee table.

    ¡®There were more people than reported.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, I have gotten news of a troublesome witness. Already the authorities are beginning to look under stones better left unturned.¡¯

    Mickie was unsurprised she already knew about the kid he had left alive. Hopefully the girl had enough time to get out of the family¡¯s reach. Claudia took a long sip of tea before continuing.

    ¡®I expected better of you dear. If we wish to defeat the Glascone, we must be smarter than this.¡¯

    She sighed dramatically.

    ¡®Normally I would allow such a slip to slide, but the stir being kicked up by this is particularly violent. As such, a show of discipline must be made. I believe two days in the pit should be sufficient.¡¯

    Mickie starred into Claudia¡¯s eyes, and considered simply killing her. It would be easy, the matronly woman had a concealed weapon on her, he was sure, but that would not matter. He was far faster and substantially more capable when it came to violence. The problem would be handling the aftermath. An aging pencil pusher was one thing, but the mansion was filled with individuals who knew which way to point a gun. Mickie was good, but he was not that good. Yet, there was something about the idea that spoke to the broken man. A cold simplicity that resonated with the loathing in his gut. A chance to take back control of his own life.

    ¡®Mickie dear? Are you well?¡¯

    Claudia¡¯s voice drew him from his thoughts, and Mickie realised he had been staring her down for quite some time. The woman¡¯s were filled with a wary unease, and the young man noticed her hand drifting towards her left thigh. Definitely a hidden weapon.

    ¡®Yeah, all good. Two days in the pit.¡¯

    The thoughts of murder slipped from his mind. It was not as if Claudia¡¯s death would do any actual good. There were always more where she came from. Just like there were always more killers. More like him. Mickie stood to leave.

    ¡®I am sorry, but I cannot be seen to show favouritism.¡¯

    The young man nodded slowly, hearing the lie but found he did not care enough to even be irritated about it. Mickie was escorted from the study to the pit, were he spent two days sitting in total silence. All the while the newfound loathing within him churned, bubbling against the broken remains of the boy he had once been, now bent and warped beyond recognition.

    <hr>

    Mickie experienced a strange, slow moment of disconnect. It was like he had been riding a train through his own life, and it had just careened right off the end of the tracks. The story did not end there, years would follow before he died. However, the force that had dragged him into the recesses of his own mind was relinquishing its hold. The branded man had been asked who he was, and the question was now answered.

    Back within his soul the dark tendrils of force were withering away. The mortal hung in the empty expanse, watching it go with a palpable sense of relief. Mickie¡¯s vision began to flicker between the world in his head, and the realm beyond. Through a daze he saw a blurry figure in a dark suit. It was Belphegor, hand still gripping the blade in his heart. Then Mickie¡¯s memories swam to the surface, and it was Claudia standing there, hand cupped gently to his cheek.

    The last of the darkness shrivelled to nothing and the seventh circle snapped back into focus. Mickie could taste blood on his tongue and feel it running down his chest. Everything felt wrong, the world seeming to move in fits and starts around him. It was like Hell was an illusion, and the past was his true reality.

    Perhaps that was the case. Maybe after killing that child¡¯s mother, he had gone mad, and everything since was a delusion dreamt up in the confines of a padded cell. A stabbing pain in his chest drew his thoughts closer to the present. If this was all just a dream, then why did it hurt so much? Had he not suffered enough already? The thud of his heart against the blade send rhythmic pulses of ice through Mickie¡¯s veins.

    Who had told him hearts were a mortal¡¯s weakness. Had it been Lucia? No, that could not be right. Mickie¡¯s right arm burned and felt as heavy as lead, so he used his left to grab the knife¡¯s hilt. The branded man tried to pull it free, but Belphegor¡¯s hand was immovable as stone. Instead of pushing the blade from his chest, Mickie pushed his chest from the blade.

    With a gasp he fell backwards, collapsing near the edge of the catwalk. His vision swam at the drop, eyes stinging with steam from the blood lake. Then Mickie was rolling over with a monumental effort, gasping and coughing as his heart pumped blood right out of his body. The pain in his arm was making itself known, a growing fire in the limb.

    Mickie groggily glanced down and was almost blinded by the sight. His hand was glowing like he held the sun in his palm. No wonder it hurt so much.

    ¡®What¡­ you can¡¯t be¡­ it¡¯s not possible.¡¯

    A voice reached him, echoing into the branded man¡¯s ears as if from an impossible distance. Mickie turned and found Belphegor staring at him, wide eyed with an almost comical look of astonishment. Something shifted behind the old lord, catching his attention. Two figures stood there, frozen mid step.

    One was Belphegor¡¯s aged second. Mickie was struck again by how familiar she looked, though the feeling swiftly fled when he saw Kalistra ahead of the old woman. The gorgon stood above the body of the fallen Kindle Kin, bronze scales glowing in the Enforcer¡¯s sparce lamplight. One of her hands was raised towards him, as if in greeting, though her face was set in a frown of concern. The branded man smiled at the sight of her, but the expression soon faltered.

    There was something wrong. Her eyes, which usually glinting a bronze that bordered on gold, were dark. It took a moment for the branded man¡¯s foggy thoughts to piece together why. When he realised, Mickie panicked and tried to rise from the steel catwalk. He could not see her eyes because there were no eyes to see. Kalistra was blind. Something heavy landed on Mickie¡¯s stomach as he struggled, shoving him back to the steel catwalk. The branded man frowned up at Belphegor as the demon stepped close.

    ¡®How did you manage it? The Sovereign should have had you killed like the rest of your accursed kind.¡¯

    The old lord said, though Mickie hardly heard him. His arm hurt, and his brain was operating as if in slow motion. Why was it so hard to for him to move? It was as if all the energy had been siphoned right out of his soul. Mickie started, realisation blossoming bright as the sun he held in his right hand. It felt like all the energy had been sucked from him because that was exactly what had happened.

    He had just been within his soul, and it was empty of all power. Even his bone amulet had been pulled dry, the secondary storage giving him not so much as a trickle. The begged the question then, of where all this power had gone? The glow and pain from his right arm held the answer.

    Before Belphegor had stabbed him, Mickie had started dumping power into his gun, charging it for an attack. Apparently, reliving his past had not been enough to interrupt that process. Every iota of force the branded man could muster had been shoehorned into the weapon. It now glowed with such heat that not even the resistance of Behemoth could fully protect him.

    Mickie rasped out something that resembled a laugh. He looked past Belphegor to Kalistra, wishing that she could see him, that she could know what he intended. The gorgon would understand. They were both the same kind of broken, after all. To his surprise, Kalistra reacted to his attention. Her mouth opened and she started forwards, words forming that he would never hear.

    Belphegor reached a clawed hand down towards him, and Mickie raised his gun to meet it. The weapon arced across his eyesight like a shooting star, trailing light behind it. The old lord squinted and frowned, twisting to bat the glowing steel aside.

    Mickie pulled the trigger, and was blown backwards in a thunderclap of fire and smoke. He slammed into something, twisted, and flipped into open air. Then he was falling, down into fire, down into pain. The young girl¡¯s face swam before him, coated in the blood of her own mother. She opened her mouth, and the voice of old Aria came out.

    You promised me Mickie. You swore you would show them. You swore.

    The broken man opened his mouth, trying to speak, to take back all he had done.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯

    Mickie hit the blood lake.

 34 â€“ The One Who Breaks

    Throughout the steel tower, the sounds of battle were beginning to wind down. Most of the small Kindle Kin attack force were either pinned or dead. Those few still free were swiftly being corralled by the enforcer¡¯s superior numbers. Kalistra was not sure what Mickie had intended with the attack, but she was certain it was not this.

    Alongside Lucia, she had watched from a higher level as Belphegor stabbed the mortal through the heart. Ever since that moment the old woman had been moving as if possessed. Any demons she came across was either ignored or killed in her desperation to reach the mortal man.

    Kalistra followed close behind, unsure if their plan was still the same. She had seen the glint of runes on the blade before it entered Mickie, and knew there was more at play here. Lucia refused to answer a single one of her questions however, dead to anything but the path forward.

    They might have been moving swiftly, but the distance to Belphegor was considerable and more demons were taking note of their passage. On two occasions Kalistra was forced to channel her power to clear a path. It was a process that left her connection to her serpentine hair stressed and tenuous, not an ideal mode of affairs considering the fight ahead.

    When the duo finally broke into the open intersection of paths, they found Belphegor standing over Mickie, blade still driven into the mortal¡¯s heart. Lucia stumbled to a stop, casting Kalistra a frantic look.

    ¡®Kill Belphegor girl, do it now.¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s going on? Why are they just standing there?¡¯

    Clearly, this was not the time for questions. Lucia snarled at the gorgon, her hand tightening about the grip of her gun.

    ¡®Do your damned job.¡¯

    Uncertain, Kalistra took a slow step forward. Neither Belphegor nor Mickie seemed to notice her presence. They were captured under some kind of spell, locked in time on the catwalk above the blood lake. From where she currently stood, the gorgon could only see Mickie¡¯s face. His eyes were blank and lifeless, only a step healthier than her own empty sockets.

    The gorgon drew on her power as she approached, hesitating momentarily as she noticed something bright hanging from Mickie¡¯s hand. Her serpent¡¯s small eyes were having trouble discerning just what it was, though Kalistra assumed it was probably the orb lamp Mickie carried.

    ¡®Hurry! Before they wake.¡¯

    As if on cue, the statuesque duo began to move. The mortal¡¯s eyes were suddenly shifting about in confused circles. Belphegor gave a slow shake of the head and said something, regarding Mickie with an expression the gorgon could not see. Kalistra reached a hand out, want to call to her friend, but unwilling to attract Belphegor¡¯s attention. The old lord might have woken up, but it was not yet aware of her presence. The gorgon swallowed her confusion and fear. If she could build just a bit more power, she could do this.

    Out on the catwalk, Mickie tried to rise, but was kicked back to the ground. He seemed far weaker than normal, closer to a normal mortal than something demonically empowered. Kalistra took another step forward, just a bit more and she could kill Belphegor. A bit closer and she could save Mickie. The mortal looked at her then, and his eyes cleared. She saw in them that same emotion she had when they first fought. The anger and pain she knew all too well.

    Except, that was not all there was. Resolve danced in those depths too. The kind of resolve that scared her. Mickie shifted, and his glowing hand rose towards Belphegor. Kalistra realised then that he was not holding the orb lamp, but his gun.

    ¡®Don¡¯t!¡¯

    She started forward, trying to reach him, to communicate that she could handle this. Too late. A small sun burst into existence between the mortal and the lord. Even meters away the force of it hit Kalistra like a overeager blood storm. She was flung backwards, tumbling into one of the intersecting halls in the room. Everything went dark as her focus slipped and she fell out of the link to her snakes.

    Rolling to a slow stop, the gorgon coughed and tried to force air into her lungs. The punch from the blast had winded her, and she could see flickering stars in the black of her mind. Battered, bruised, but with nothing broken, Kalistra got her breathing under control and scrambled to her feet. Gingerly, she reached along the connection to her snakes and the world flickered back to life.

    Mickie¡¯s gunshot had blown her a couple dozen feet backwards. From the hall where she now stood, the gorgon could see a gradually dissipating cloud of dark smoke. It completely shrouded the opening to the catwalk. The sounds of battle had been replaced by a tinny warble, almost like the whole tower had paused their fighting in the aftermath of the explosion.

    ¡®¡­irl, girl, Girl!¡¯

    Incessant shouting was the first thing to reach her through the ringing in her ears. One of her serpentine eyes drifted in the direction of the sound. She found Lucia huddled in the shadow of a separate passage, haggard but still on her feet. Groggily, Kalistra turned in her direction.

    ¡®Kill Belphegor! Do it now!¡¯

    Lucia roared, and pointed frantically at the dissipating smoke cloud. Kill Belphegor? The gorgon frowned. Mickie had just shot that demon with a blast that would have atomised her. Surely that had to be enough to overcome the old lord¡¯s defences.

    Kalistra stumbled in the direction of the smoke cloud, hoping she might find Mickie alive somewhere inside. She stopped dead as a figure emerged from its dissipating depths. Belphegor stepped into view. Torn, bleeding, but still very much alive. The demon¡¯s right arm, the one which had held the knife, was gone. A ragged hole had been carved in its place; the snakeskin jacket shredded to reveal the white of bone underneath. Even Belphegor¡¯s face was not spared. The cheek near the blast had been carved open to reveal jagged teeth, and the ear on that same side was a bloody stump.

    Slowly, the lord of sloth turned bloodshot eyes on the wreckage of its right side, considering the wounds like they were an unwanted invoice. Kalistra began to gather her power as the demon shifted its attention to her. A shudder ran through the gorgon as its eyes met hers. There was no malice there, no anger or pain. If anything, Belphegor seemed mildly annoyed that it had almost died.

    ¡®You are not supposed to be here.¡¯

    It said, flexing its one remaining hand. Then, with no further warning, the demon struck. Seemingly unimpeded by its wounds, Belphegor darted towards her, arm outstretched. Kalistra stepped in and past the blow, angling for the lord¡¯s damaged side. While continuing to gather power, her claws raked across torn flesh.

    It should have been a painful blow, one that worsened an already grievous wound. Instead, the gorgon received a firsthand lesson in the reach of Belphegor¡¯s technique. What should have been bloody and softened meat, was hard as stone. Fingers bent painfully against it, even as they were coated in fresh blood. Instead of staggering away, Belphegor stepped closer and snaked its arm out to snag her wrist. The demon had known its injury would lure her in and used that to its advantage.

    ¡®So many years fighting, and still not enough.¡¯

    The old lord commented, flexing its hand to snap her wrist. Kalistra hissed out a pained breath and wrapped her free hand about Belphegor¡¯s. She tried to pull the limb free but no matter how she wrenched and twisted, the demon did not relinquish its hold.

    ¡®Restrain it!¡¯

    Lucia called out from somewhere behind the gorgon. Kalistra experienced a momentary flash of irritation at the order. Could the old woman not see she was otherwise occupied? The call did serve the unintentional purpose of drawing Belphegor¡¯s attention from the gorgon. She used the lapse in concentration to shift her stance. Twisting to a new angle, Kalistra pulled for all she worth and managed to wrench her broken wrist free.

    Gasping with pain and staggering away, the gorgon resumed gathering her power. She expected Belphegor to move straight in for another attack and prepared to respond. Instead, the old lord seemed not to have noticed her escape. It stood staring at Lucia, arm still outstretched as if holding Kalistra¡¯s wrist.

    ¡®So, you have been lying to me? After all I did for you?¡¯

    Belphegor asked, and for the first time in the fight anger coloured the old demon¡¯s voice. Still partway in the shadow of another hall, the mortal woman straightened.

    ¡®I command you. Restrain Belphegor.¡¯

    Kalistra was about to tell the old bat to do it herself when a shape burst into the room. It boiled out of a side passage like a sentient bulldozer, all dark metal and sharp edges. The gorgon realised then, that she had not been the one to whom Lucia was issuing orders.

    ¡®Stop.¡¯

    Belphegor raised its hand, and the four-armed giant stumbled as if struck. Its body made a terrible, keening noise, and stuttered to a halt. Kalistra recognised it then as the machine that had chased her and Mickie through the stone pillar.

    ¡®You would turn my own machine against me?¡¯

    Now the old lord was properly angry. It glowered at Lucia, who rose to meet it with fury of her own.

    ¡®Your machine? I built that beast; it was never yours.¡¯

    Belphegor waved its arm at the groaning giant.

    ¡®Kill that woman.¡¯

    There was a weight to the words, something deeper than a simple command. The machine responded slowly, steel grinding against steel as it shifted slowly towards Lucia.

    ¡®I rescued you. I elevated you. I let you speak for me. And this is how I am repaid? You hide the boy¡¯s identity from me? Try to have my prisoner kill me?¡¯

    The demon said over the groaning of the machine. It paused for a moment, thinking.

    ¡®It was you, wasn¡¯t it? Who undid the stone bindings on the mortal.¡¯

    Slowly, the machine heaved itself towards Lucia. The old woman did not so much as budge at its approach. Instead, a smile broke across her usually stoic features.

    ¡®Of course it was me. You demons are all the same, always thinking power trumps all. Thinking that because you are strong, you can control us mortals.¡¯

    She laughed.

    ¡®It makes you almost comically easy to manipulate. Big bags of steaming desire. I stick a carrot in front of you and you are blind to anything else.¡¯

    The smile dropped from Lucia¡¯s face, and her voice fell flat.

    ¡®I¡¯ve met dogs with more guile.¡¯

    With that, the mortal turned her attention to the machine.

    ¡®Ex sanguine et vitibus natus.¡¯

    Instantly the metal giant went slack. It slumped like a puppet with its strings cut, finally ending the cacophony of grinding. Belphegor¡¯s anger cooled at the scene.

    ¡®Very well. I can always find another second.¡¯

    It started towards Lucia.

    ¡®Restrain Belphegor.¡¯

    ¡®Kill the mortal.¡¯

    Both commands rang out simultaneously. The machine jerked upright, and this time, did not hesitate. It disregarded Belphegor¡¯s orders entirely, turning to meet the old demon as it approached. For all that Lucia might claim otherwise, Belphegor was no fool. It had guessed that something might have changed, and was not surprised when the machine attacked.

    Four arms reached for the fiend, and it attempted to duke sideways. A metal hand was caught in Belphegor¡¯s own, one of the machine¡¯s previously damaged appendages. The entire arm was soon a twisted and sparking length of scrap. Sacrificing the limb was not for naught though, the slight delay it put upon Belphegor let the three remaining arms come to bear.

    Claws wrapped about the demon¡¯s body. Even then, it was not enough to stop Belphegor¡¯s monstrous strength. Gears whined in protest as the slothful lord continued towards his unfaithful second.

    ¡®Girl, I hope you¡¯re ready.¡¯

    Lucia yelled, as the machine heaved upon Belphegor. To the gorgon¡¯s surprise, the demon was lifted straight off the ground. She had hit that brick wall of a fiend, and its weight was far greater than its slight frame suggested. The machine was straining, but still, it appeared to have finally pinned Belphegor.

    ¡®Now girl! Do it now!¡¯

    Even as Kalistra rushed the intertwined duo, she could see the metal limbs beginning to warp. Belphegor was simply too strong to hold for long. The gorgon brought forth the power she had gathered. Almost everything she had, held ready for a single strike. It hurt her head just keeping it together.

    The machine turned towards her, presenting the warrior with her target. For a moment, Kalistra came face to face with Belphegor and saw the surprise glimmering in his eyes. She pushed her power forth, flooding the bridges she had formed with her snakes. It roared out of her in a painful torrent. She felt the force crash against Belphegor¡¯s barrier. There was a brief resistance, but like a building before a flood, she drowned it with a spear of intent.

    Kalistra screamed as the blow landed, half in pain, half in victory. One of Belphegor¡¯s eyes greyed and morphed into flaky stone. The skin around it soon followed. She was doing it. Two of the links she had formed to her serpents abruptly shattered, unable to take the power forced through them. Kalistra felt something strange happen on her head, and a small serpent statue crumbled to the floor.

    If a few snakes were the price she had to pay, then so be it. The gorgon drove harder, forcing more power out. Another layer of eyesight went dark as a link crumbled, then another. Stone was crawling down Belphegor¡¯s neck and across its face. Tendrils of grey reached for its remaining eye. Kalistra gritted her teeth in a savage snarl, pushing harder even as more of her snakes broke away.

    Suddenly, she felt the old lord¡¯s demeanour shift. The barrier which she had overcome flared up, swimming forth to resist her attack. Kalistra grunted and pushed back, intending to overcome this blockade as well. Only Belphegor was not done. Its remaining eye was locked onto her, and pressure was building in the air.

    ¡®Let it go.¡¯

    The words were slurred through partially petrified lips, and they hit Kalistra like a hammer to the head. Exhaustion overcame her, a weariness so deep it was difficult to even think straight. The hold she had upon her power slipped and fell away. More of her links were shattered in the backlash, but Kalistra hardly noticed. She was having trouble focusing enough to see through even one of her remaining snakes.

    ¡®Girl what are you doing!¡¯

    An old woman called to her, and the gorgon tried to answer. All she managed was a sleepy hum. Before her a giant machine was being bent and broken. Belphegor had finally gotten a good hold on one of the machine¡¯s limbs and was ripping its way to freedom. One metal arm had been completely removed, and a second was even now failing. Unable to support the lord¡¯s weight with a single limb, the giant dropped Belphegor.

    Something tugged at the back of Kalistra¡¯s mind when she saw the demon¡¯s feet hit the floor. A spike of panic. She reached for it, but got lost in the fog of fatigue. Before her Belphegor had turned upon the metal giant in earnest. It tore plating away, digging into the machines chest like the pain eater had burrowed into her arm. There was a terrible rending of steel, and the lord emerged with a glowing orb in hand.

    Still half covered in metal and sparking cables, the parts exposed shone with the red light of runes. Belphegor turned, and pitched the orb, metal and all, out towards the blood lake. What remained of the machine was a lifeless husk, and the lord of sloth turned from it towards her. The half of the fiend¡¯s face that was not a bloody ruin was now coated in stone. The grey layer ran down its cheek and neck to disappear beneath its jacket. In the lord¡¯s remaining eye, Kalistra could see furious triumph.

    At the sight of her enemy, that same nagging feeling returned to the gorgon, and this time she managed to catch it. A flood of energising fear shuddered through her, and she finally shook off enough of the fatigue to stumble backwards. She tripped over the body of a demon and fell to the floor, still woozy and half dazed.

    ¡®Close, but not quite.¡¯

    Belphegor said, closing the distance between them in two long strides. The stone about its jaw had cracked, and blood oozed slowly from the spiderweb lines. Kalistra tried to rise, but her arms felt terribly weak. She forgot about her broken wrist, putting weight on the limb and wincing at the resulting pain.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know how you worked around losing your eyes, but colour me impressed.¡¯

    A foot caught her in the side, and the gorgon felt something snap as she was sent tumbling across the floor.

    ¡®And you, my dearest Lucia. I have nothing for you but disappoint.¡¯

    The blow might have been bad, but it helped Kalistra shake off the persistent fatigue. She gasped for breath and attempted to rise, watching as Belphegor addressed his disloyal second.

    ¡®So many decades of service squandered in a fit of hopeless greed.¡¯

    Lucia glanced at Kalistra. The gorgon expected to see accusation or helplessness in the old woman¡¯s eyes. Instead, there was only fierce determination.

    ¡®Oh, and why would you think it was hopeless?¡¯

    Belphegor laughed. It was a dry, empty sound.

    ¡®Because you are a mortal. No matter how you schemed, you could never have succeeded. Not against me.¡¯

    ¡®So you say. Yet, here you stand, half a corpse before me.¡¯

    ¡®Half alive is still alive. All your pawns have fallen before me. All your plans have failed. You have nothing left that can harm me.¡¯

    Kalistra smiled broadly at her old master.

    ¡®Nothing but faith.¡¯

    This time, Belphegor¡¯s laugh was genuine.

    ¡®Faith? You? Come now Lucia, you can¡¯t be serious.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, but I am. I¡¯m dead serious.¡¯ The mortal said. ¡®It just isn¡¯t the kind of faith you think it is.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, and what but the divine could you believe would help you now?¡¯

    Lucia glared at the demon.

    ¡®My brother.¡¯

    Them, as if in a reply of its own, the tower around them began to shake.

    <hr>

    For such a uniform concept, pain could be a diverse sensation. Since arriving in Hell, Mickie had been slashed, bashed, thrown, bludgeoned and choked. Being boiled alive though, that was a new one even for him. The skin on his body was sloughing away in sections that sent his nerves in hysterics. It might have made for an interesting sight, if not for the fact his eyes were in a similar condition.

    He had tried, and he had failed. It felt like more than the story of his life at this point, it was the story of his death. As steams of light danced before his failing eyes, faces flickered through his mind. They belonged to people he had done his utmost to forget, people who Belphegor freed from the cage in his mind. The ones he had killed.

    Perhaps this, all of this, had been his punishment for what he had done. An impossible task, set before him just so he could fail. Climbing back out of Hell had never been something he could achieve. It had simply been a path he could walk, something to keep him from becoming a purposeless husk.

    Well, now the path had run its course, and a painful death was all that awaited him at the end. Perhaps Mickie should have been angry, maybe even despairing. Instead, he felt nothing, nothing but the constant, ceaseless agony of the blood lake.

    The branded man opened himself to the pain, let it consume him, and waited for the end to come.

    <hr>

    Before Mickie the abyss yawned. An endless darkness, seemingly right before his eyes, yet simultaneously expansive as the deepest depths of space. Through this darkness, ribbons of light swam, curling and twisting together in mesmerising patterns. It hurt to look upon, yet Mickie seemed unable to look away. In fact, he was unable to move, to speak, or to scream. The branded man had become a passenger in the body of another, a fact he realised when a red hand was raised towards the yawning abyss.

    It was the clawed appendage of a demon, dainty in a cruel kind of way. The hand reached out to the impossible lines in the void and touched them. Mickie wailed at the sight, it should not be possible, it was not meant to be possible. Those arcs of colour were impossibly vast, yet the demon brushed against them like threads in a tapestry. If Mickie had a head with which to feel, he was sure it would be screaming in pain at that moment.

    ¡®If you¡¯re seeing this, then things have gone terribly wrong.¡¯

    The Soul Lord said, and let its hand fall away from the abyss. Relief flooded Mickie, and the branded man was abruptly struck with the realisation that he could feel anything at all. Normally when he dreamt of Magareem, Mickie did not retain such an awareness of himself.

    ¡®If all goes to plan, the only one to ever hear this should be the void.¡¯

    The demon sighed.

    ¡®Yet, nothing ever quite goes to plan, does it?¡¯

    Mickie was unable to answer, and the abyss did not reply.

    ¡®I think I¡¯m going to die soon. Mizaraphel wasn¡¯t very happy that I barred the gates, and it¡¯s only a matter of time before they come for me.¡¯

    The Soul Lord did not appear particularly bothered by the prospect of its own death. Mostly it just sounded resigned.

    ¡®It¡¯s a shame they caught on when they did. Just a little bit more time and I could have avoided all this hassle.¡¯

    Mickie had no clue what the demon was talking about, and was unable to ask. All he could do was watch the twisting lines of the abyss and listen to Magareem speak.

    ¡®Sadly, there¡¯s little I can do to actually help you.¡¯

    With a grunt the demon rose from its perch, and Mickie discovered they were in a cave. It was a simple, rocky formation that opened to the void beyond the ninth circle. The Soul Lord turned towards a shadowed corner of the cave, and Mickie discovered they were not alone in this memory. Huddled in the dark was a figure, a gaunt mortal dressed in little more than rags.

    ¡®I simply thought I¡¯d use this opportunity to impart a little advice. I imagine you¡¯ll be pretty new to Hell, and there are some things you ought to know.¡¯

    The Soul Lord approached the cave¡¯s other occupant and squatted down to regard the mortal. Their skin was an unnatural shade of grey, eyes hollow and vacant.

    ¡®This place is not like the world you came from, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve figured out. Hell functions off some additional rules, things that are a touch more esoteric than gravity or the conservation of mass.¡¯

    A red hand reached out and cupped the mortal¡¯s chin, tilting their head from side to side without so much as a wary glance in response. It dawned on Mickie that this person must be one of the Lost, those strange, empty people he had seen on the eighth circle.

    ¡®Things here operate off emotion. In particular, desire. It¡¯s what makes some of us demons so powerful. We aren¡¯t born as a blank slate like you mortals. Instead, we are creature spawned from this very realm, beings whose very souls are shaped out of the fabric of Hell itself.¡¯The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    The Soul Lord released the lost mortal and straightened.

    ¡®Some of us are spawned with more than others, whether it be desire, talent, or the simple raw capacity of our souls. We can use it to do some pretty wild things, things like me speaking to you as I am now.¡¯

    There came a pause, and Magareem¡¯s voice took on the authoritative lilt of a lecture.

    ¡®Do not mistake me. I¡¯m not saying desire is all there is to it. As I¡¯m sure you have seen, there are far more factors at play down here than simple emotion. Powers of the soul are esoteric and tend to shift depending on the temperament of the individual. I¡¯m sure your own abilities have manifested in their own, unique ways.¡¯

    The Soul Lord turned momentarily and stretched out a hand. Something dark and sinister manifested in the demon¡¯s hand. Mickie realised it was a blade, one with a hilt of carved bone and a curve so sharp it was almost a crescent. Magareem turned back to the lost mortal and brought the blade to their neck.

    ¡®The point I¡¯m trying to drive at here, is that desire is an underpinning of us demons. Personally, I think it¡¯s the thing that distinguishes us from you fleshy sacks of emotion. More that and red skin or smouldering eyes, its desire that makes a demon. The more of it we have, the more we can do.¡¯

    Mickie waited for the blade to slip into the throat of the vacant human. Instead, after a long deliberation, the Soul Lord dismissed its weapon.

    ¡®So, knowing all that, my question to you is; what do you want, and how badly do you want it?¡¯

    Instead of slicing the mortal¡¯s head of Magareem reached a claw out and lifted the human to their feet. They rose as if operating on autopilot.

    ¡®Because, unless you want to wind up dead or like this fellow here, then you¡¯re going to need a little desire. I¡¯ll have made sure you¡¯ve got the power, all you need is the drive to use it.¡¯

    The Soul Lord guided the mortal forward, towards the cave¡¯s opening.

    ¡®A bit weak as far as advice goes, I know, but there¡¯s not much I can do about that. It¡¯s not like I know which pile of shit you¡¯ve managed to stand in.¡¯

    They came to a stop right at the abyss¡¯ yawning mouth. Magareem directed the mortal to stand where the rock opened up to the dark. Mickie felt something then, as he realised what the demon intended. A part of him screamed that what was about to happen was wrong. He tried to vocalise the feeling, to tell Magareem to kill them like it had originally intended.

    ¡®You know, I actually found this chap down here, if you can believe it. Don¡¯t know how he found his way to the abyss, but the lost can be like that sometimes. Always wandering places they shouldn¡¯t go. Only just occurred to me he would make for a good demonstration, a final send off for you, as it were.¡¯

    The Soul Lord pushed the gaunt figure into the abyss. Mickie could do nothing but watch as the mortal tumbled into the dark. For a moment, there was nothing. Then the lines of light recoiled as if struck, and the mortal began to scream. Their emaciated body was bent before Mickie¡¯s eyes, both near and far, straight and twisted. It was wrong, so terribly wrong. The white lines throughout the abyss strobed as they writhed, crying out in a way all their own.

    ¡®Just remember though.¡¯

    Magareem muttered, examining the lost human as they were distorted beyond recognition.

    ¡®There some things you can never have, no matter how much you might want them.¡¯

    <hr>

    Mickie came back to himself at the bottom of the blood lake. His mind swam with the dream that was not, the advice given by the Soul Lord echoing with the screams of that mortal as they fell into the abyss. The return of the pain did nothing to alleviate his confusion. He should be dead, if not from the burning, then at the very least suffocation. Yet, Mickie continued to persist.

    The branded man realised that he was not dead, because he could not die. Not while he lay within the blood lake. His skin itched as much as it burned, the very same blood which hurt him also supercharging his healing. Even as his flesh sloughed away, new skin formed to take its place.

    It made him want to laugh. It made him want to scream. He could achieve neither. All Mickie could do was sink into the pain. Fall deeper and deeper into it, until all he knew was fire, and the voice of the Soul Lord asking him what he wanted.

    It was a question to which he had no ready answer. It should have been that he wanted to escape Hell, that was ostensibly his goal after all. Yet, it did not quite fit. There was nothing for him in the world of the living, no reason he should want to return. No, the climb was simply the job set before him, not the thing he wanted to do.

    Mickie sunk deeper still, back through the life he had so recently remembered. It was here, deep down within himself, that he found the loathing. It seethed and bubbled about the wreckage of the person he had once been, the boy that bent until he had broken. It spoke to him, in a voice that was all his own. The loathing said it had the answer for him, and as Mickie, driven forward by the pain, touched upon the seething form of his hate, it showed him.

    He saw Claudia telling him that his mother was dead. The three teens on the family grounds, breaking beneath his blows. The feeling of steel pressed to the back of his head. Then came the descent. His torture at the hands of the Mechanist. The fury and violence of the arena. Now this, his past dug from his own head by a demon, and a drop into a lake that burned and healed him in a cycle of constant agony.

    They did this to us.

    The loathing said, its voice a mirror of Mickie¡¯s own.

    They used you, they broke you. They made me.

    The branded man heard it, and he understood. Whether human or demon, they had always wanted the same thing from him. They used him as a tool to break, until he was broken in turn. Just as they did to countless others. To Kalistra, who only wanted to help her tribe. To Aria, who died for the crime of helping another. To all the children who were shaped by the greed and ego of adults such as Claudia. The loathing did not need to tell Mickie what he desired, because he already knew. He had just hidden from it, scared of the feeling, afraid of what it would make him.

    Now though, at the bottom of the blood lake, with nothing but pain for company, Mickie opened himself to the truth. That what he wanted, above all else, was to do what he had been made to do. To rend, tear and break. To inflict the pain he felt upon those who had hurt him, who would hurt those he cared about.

    It was a desire born of the loathing that bubbled within him. Mickie knew it would not fix what had been done, would not repair that which had been broken. Right now though, he simply did not care. What was it the Soul Lord had said? That it was desire that made a demon. Well then, Mickie would show the fiends of Hell that he was more the demon than they were.

    He reached within himself, towards that hidden core of loathing, and began to hollow himself out. First to go was the distraction of pain, then the hesitation of fear, the uncertainty of hope, and the frustration of ineptitude. All of it was cast aside, pushed further away than it every had been before. Mickie emptied himself of everything but his desire, that and bubbling heat of his loathing, and the rage it stocked within him.

    The hollow man shifted at the bottom of the blood lake. He shifted muscle that melted even as it grew, flexed arms that trailed skin in their wake, and he began to swim. Not upwards, not towards the surface, but along the lakebed. For when he had distanced himself from the pain, Mickie allowed more subtle externalities to permeate his broken body. He had realised that he lay not on a sandy floor, but a smooth steel surface, hidden beneath the boiling blood. And somewhere, deeper into the lake, something called to him.

    A sensation closer to a whisper than a shout, it tickled the back of his mind, urging him to come, calling for the key. As Mickie swam, he recalled the table at the top of the tower, and the replica it had produced. There had been a flashing light, positioned on a tiny protrusion within the open interior. It was towards that spot Mickie now swam, heading for what had to be the tower¡¯s controls.

    Blind in the blood, he followed the call. Followed it until his hands slapped against something emerging from the floor. It was a cylindrical object, a pedestal of sorts that had smooth, steel sides. Mickie reached out and placed a hand upon its top. The moment he made contact the world expanded around him. One moment, the hollow man was just a mortal, reaching out to control a tower. The next, he was the tower itself.

    Mickie felt the attention of something vast fall upon him. It assessed him with eyes that were not eyes, perceiving far more than just his physical body. The mortal started back, wondering just what this presence was. Before he could attain answers, the sensation disappeared, and the hollow man was left in command of something arcane and alien. It was like a limb which he never knew he had. The tower was as much a part of him now as his arm or leg, and like any restless muscle, he could feel its desire to move. So, Mickie told it to stretch out, and just like that, the tower began to change around him.

    <hr>

    When Miz-Mag found the Kindle Kin they were no longer amongst the dunes. Instead, the grey singers were moving at speed through the bone woods. A large force of metal hybrids was carrying their fleshy brethren, running right towards the tower. It was an advanced force, sent ahead of the larger group to arrive early and provide support.

    Stranger than the sight of the piggy backing Kin, was the way in which the bone woods reacted to their presence. Miz-Mag would have expected the acidic trees to be an obstacle for the large hybrids. Instead, it was as if the forest itself was opening the way for them. Before the Kindle Kin, bone trees were quivering and shifting, raising their branches out of their path. The result was a pace that the little demon found downright staggering. This entire group would arrive at the tower before very long, not that it would do those inside any good. The blood lake inhibited all access.

    It had been a challenge to find a spot in which the little fiend could park its flyer. Though when Miz-Mag found a space and tried, the trees themselves bent out of the way to let it land. It was then, parked up amongst the bleached boughs, that the demon felt the change to Mickie¡¯s soul. Ice ran down Miz-Mag¡¯s spine. Something foreign had invaded its partner, and had the mortal locked in a vice grip.

    The little fiend almost took off then and there, but managed to keep its claws off the joystick. Whatever had just happened to Mickie, that idiot was going to need back-up now more then ever. By the time the racing Kindle Kin reached Miz-Mag however, the little demon was just about spitting with anxiety. The moment its smaller and speedier new flyer was packed with singers, Miz-Mag took to the air.

    It was then, as the fiend raced back to the tower, that Mickie¡¯s soul was suddenly freed. Rather than relief, the abrupt change left the little fiend with a deep sense of foreboding. It was not something it could put a claw on, but Miz-Mag was certain that something was still wrong with Mickie.

    Arriving at the tower, the fiend expected it would find Ziz hard at work on the defences. What it found instead had Miz-Mag pulling up short on the controls. Where there had once been a squat steel pyramid, a leaner, taller structure now stood. Not only that, but it was growing taller before the tiny pilot¡¯s very eyes.

    Sections of the tower were splitting apart and shifting, reorienting atop one another to climb ever higher. The layered balconies were gradually folding back into the structure¡¯s slimmer body. A sound from behind drew Miz-Mag¡¯s attention to its passengers. One of the Kindle Kin was leant over the edge, pointing down towards the blood lake.

    The fiend followed its finger to the structure¡¯s base, where it found catwalks stretching like spindly fingers. They reached outwards, creating a network that crossed the boiling blood to connect with the woods beyond. Miz-Mag thought back to the advanced force of Kindle Kin, their urgency suddenly seemed far less futile. Straightening its grip on the flyer¡¯s joystick, Miz-Mag turned back to the shifting tower.

    ¡®Now where in all the stinkin¡¯ circles am I supposed to land?¡¯

    <hr>

    At the edge of the churning blood lake, a group of enforcers were huddled together. They had their weapons ready, though more out of habit than anything else. No simple firearm would be able to impact the changes being wrought to the tower. Around them the walls and floor shifted and moved, carried on disturbing tethers of glistening dark sinew. The group gawped upwards as sections of catwalks split and retracted into the building, the open chamber closing in upon itself.

    They debated fleeing, yet there was nowhere to run. Not now the tower itself had decided it was time to come alive. From above there came a panicked screech. A careless demon came spinning through the open air. Its cries spiked when it hit the lake, then gurgled to a stop. Enthralled by the scene, the small group were paying little heed to their immediate surroundings.

    As a result, they failed to notice when a terrible, skinless hand burst from the churning blood. It was half dissolved, with bones and tendons exposed through ragged patches of meat. Yet, as the appendage swung and landed upon one of the steps leading out of the lake, it seemed to swell. The flesh that remained twisted and grew, reforming muscle and then skin.

    An eviscerated arm followed the hand out of the blood, then another. A head emerged, little more than a skull with scraps of skin attached. Just as the hands had however, flesh swiftly formed to encase the white of bone. The shrivelled scraps remaining in the eye sockets inflated like balloons as eyelids stitched themselves back together.

    By the time the figure had dragged itself from the lake, black hair was sprouting from the bare scalp. Soon, where there had once been a corpse, a mortal was hunched upon the steel steps. Had the group of Enforcers thought to turn away from the spectacle about them, then they might have noticed the human rise to his feet.

    The hollow man took a long pull of the heavy air and examined his naked body. Fresh, pinkish skin coated a healthy layer of muscle. Satisfied, he called forth his armour. Jeans materialised about his bare legs, a shirt and jacket forming around his chest and shoulders. It was then, as the mortal began to climb the stairs, that he noticed the small team of demons.

    Focusing inward, he called forth his weapon. The gun had been damaged when he fired it at Belphegor, and required a healthy dose of energy to reform. It came to him after a few extra moments, and as the hollow man felt the bone against his palm, he smiled. Starting towards the distracted demons, the mortal thought how pleasant it was to do as one desired.

    <hr>

    The room in which Kalistra fought Belphegor was splitting into pieces. Tiny seams on the floor and walls broadened, spilling out a multitude of black tendrils. Like Hell¡¯s strangest centipede these glistening limbs carried away sections of the tower. The gorgon watched in dismay as Lucia was disconnected and pulled away, leaving her stuck with Belphegor. The old demon had not moved since the building came alive; its remaining eye fixed on their shifting surroundings. Trying to remain as still as possible, Kalistra started gathering what power remained to her.

    ¡®You still wish to fight me? Even now?¡¯

    Belphegor immediately took notice of her actions. The lord turned its attention from the tower and back to her. Its voice was partially slurred by petrification, yet its remaining eye was clear. The lord of sloth might have looked like a corpse, but it certainly did not act like one. Kalistra on the other hand, felt her body scream in protest as she struggled back to her feet. Only a few blows from this tank of a demon and she was next to dead.

    Belphegor approached in a dash and almost got a hand around her neck. The gorgon was saved, not by her own prowess, but by a sudden lurch in the floor beneath them. The section of room in which they stood abruptly began to move, causing Kalistra to tumble out of Belphegor¡¯s path.

    She stopped at the open edge of their shifting section and was met with empty air. Before her the interior of the tower crawled with building blocks that had come alive. The black tendrils emerging from each portion of the structure created a dark sea upon which her room swam. All sounds of violence had ceased, but Kalistra could still faintly hear the few Kindle Kin which remained, calling to their brethren out in the desert. The music itself was not lonely, but that was the feeling it instilled within her. Such a small and isolated thing, alone in an ocean of enemies. Just like she was.

    ¡®It¡¯s a shame Lucia slipped away. I¡¯ll have to track her down once I¡¯m done here.¡¯

    Belphegor spoke from almost right behind her. Kalistra rolled painfully out of the way, coming to stand just out of the demon¡¯s reach.

    ¡®Did you do this?¡¯

    She asked, flicking her unbroken hand towards the tower¡¯s interior. It was a question borne less of her curiosity, than a desperate need to keep the lord at bay. As Belphegor paused to consider her, the gorgon continued to pool the last of her power, gathering herself for one final strike.

    ¡®Me? I assumed this was your doing, or perhaps even Lucia¡¯s. A way to delay the inevitable.¡¯

    The lord of sloth took a step towards her. Kalistra backed up, coming right up against the edge of their crawling room. Any further and she would join Mickie in the blood below. For once she hoped that Belphegor was right, and that Lucia had made the tower come alive. Then at least someone would have a plan.

    Kalistra tossed a glance over her shoulder, looking for something, anything that might buy her a few more moments. It was in that instant of distraction that Belphegor struck. The demon darted forward, hand outstretched to grasp her throat. Reacting swiftly, the gorgon still almost managed to duck aside, avoiding having her neck taken but offering up her arm in the process. She was ripped away from the edge and tossed into the centre of the moving room. Stars sparkled as her head cracked into the floor, and Kalistra almost lost the hold on her meagre power.

    ¡®You are lucky I still wish to obtain Ziz. That bond is the only thing keeping you alive.¡¯

    Before the gorgon could rise a foot was planted on her chest. Bones creaked, her whole sternum threatening to cave under the lord¡¯s monstrous strength. Ignoring her broken wrist Kalistra clawed at the foot, desperate to shift it, move it just enough so she could roll aside.

    ¡®Just because I need you, does not mean that I need you whole.¡¯

    She would have to use the power, only, the gorgon knew it would not be enough. The barrier Belphegor maintained about its soul would not be overcome with the drags she had gathered. Maybe though, it might give her a chance to slip away.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know how you managed to see again, but that is not an issue. I doubt you will be capable of much without any limbs left to you.¡¯

    Kalistra called upon the remaining bonds to her serpentine hair. A few, half broken layers of eyesight added to her current view. Through them she saw Belphegor bending over, reaching for one of her arms. She screamed in fury and fear, focusing upon the demon, condensing her power for the strike.

    Suddenly, their shifting room came to a stop. It shuddered with the change in momentum, slowing Belphegor for just an instant. There was a hiss and a click, like something had slotted into place. Wherever the tower had decided they needed to be, they had arrived.

    ¡®Found you.¡¯

    The voice came from behind her, in the direction of one of the room¡¯s prior exits. It was followed by a roar and a concussive blast of air. Belphegor¡¯s foot was suddenly lifted from the gorgon¡¯s chest. Her assailant staggered backwards, black smoke billowing about its head. Instincts kicked in and Kalistra rolled to her feet.

    Even as she gained some distance from Belphegor a couple snakes were searching for the new arrival. Their room had come to interlock with a new section of the tower as it settled into shape. Standing in the newly constructed hall was a single mortal man. He turned and gave Kalistra a look.

    ¡®Not dead yet?¡¯

    The rush of hope Kalistra felt at seeing Mickie alive stuttered as her various snake eyes met his human ones. Something was wrong. It was like he was looking at her, but not really seeing her.

    ¡®So, the enigma lives.¡¯

    Belphegor said, emerging from the smoke as it faded into the heavy air.

    ¡®Or perhaps I should call you Mickie? Honestly, I cannot believe I never saw it.¡¯

    It was only when the mortal looked at Belphegor that Kalistra saw his face come alive. Not a flood of emotion, just an upwards twinge of the lips and narrowing of the eyes.

    ¡®Saw what?¡¯

    ¡®Who you are, of course. Such a distinct familial resemblance.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s eyes narrowed that little bit further.

    ¡®You know my family?¡¯

    ¡®I do, I know who they are, and I know why you were dragged to Hell.¡¯

    ¡®Do you now?¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s hand tightened about his gun, and Kalistra noted the weapon seemed to be glowing ever so slightly. It was only then that she felt the power emanating from it.

    ¡®Yes, I¡­¡¯

    With a crack of thunder Mickie raised the gun and fired. There was a flash of golden light, and Belphegor had another chunk of flesh torn from its shoulder.

    ¡®It¡¯s a shame then, that I don¡¯t particularly care.¡¯

    Before the lord could recover, the mortal turned a dead eyed look upon Kalistra.

    ¡®Prepare yourself to strike.¡¯

    ¡®Mickie, Belphegor¡¯s power, you need to hit hard to hurt it.¡¯

    The mortal paused for a moment, then gave her a curt nod. Kalistra could only hope he had puzzled out what she meant. In the next moment Mickie was gone, charging right at Belphegor. The demon had recovered quickly and was already swinging its clawed hand at the branded man. With a movement that seemed near effortless, the mortal spun past the attack. His gun clicked over, and even from a distance Kalistra could feel the torrent of power that poured into it. She gathered herself and followed Mickie into the fray.

    Belphegor had turn to strike at her ally, and Kalistra used the opportunity to hit the demon from behind. She knew her claws would be useless against its empowered body, so she acted to distract. As Belphegor stepped in Mickie¡¯s direction she raked a hand across the fleshy part of its face, catching its single unpetrified eye. Her companion swerved away from a suddenly blind swipe and rotated to Belphegor¡¯s armless side.

    The lord snarled and twisted towards her, but Kalistra was already putting on some distance. Before her adversary could do more, its head snapped back in a gout of flame. Mickie took a step back, lowering his weapon. The stony side of Belphegor¡¯s face was now a jagged ruin. The shot had shattered the rock, exposing the meat and bone which lay beneath. Even so, the demon still stood, eyeing its enemies as they began to circle.

    ¡®Like hyenas biting at a lion.¡¯

    Their opponent rasped.

    ¡®More like vultures tearing up carrion. You¡¯re already two feet in the grave, Belphegor.¡¯

    Kalistra shot back, hearing the telltale click of Mickie¡¯s weapon. Across from her, the mortal began to charge his gun.

    ¡®I am not so easily finished, serpent. Your attack has failed, soon my enforcers will come, and we shall return you to your cage.¡¯

    ¡®I wouldn¡¯t be so sure.¡¯

    Mickie said and tapped his ear with a finger. Taking a moment to listen, the rooms other occupants seemed to realise what he was saying at the exact same moment. They heard the fading song of the Kindle Kin, grow louder with each passing moment. Belphegor growled and swung at the mortal. Mickie danced aside and planted his weapon into the side of the lord¡¯s knee. The resulting shot brough the demon to the floor. When Kalistra saw the look on her companion¡¯s face as they returned to circling, she felt unease creep up her stomach. Something was definitely wrong with Mickie, something it was hard for her to pin down.

    ¡®The Kin are stuck outside. They cannot access, the tower.¡¯

    The mortal¡¯s weapon clicked over, and he began channel power.

    ¡®Maybe once, but no longer. I made sure to roll out the welcome mat.¡¯

    ¡®You did this?¡¯

    Mickie grinned and ran at Belphegor. Kalistra saw the deep hunger in her friend¡¯s eyes, and knew, with absolute certainty, their enemy had seen it too.

    ¡®Stop!¡¯

    She started forward, but it was two late. As Mickie raised his weapon to the demon¡¯s head, Belphegor exploded upwards. The power which it had been subtlety gathering bubbled forward, and the lord spoke.

    ¡®Slow down.¡¯

    Kalistra saw the words land upon Mickie an instant before they hit her. Weaker, easier to shake off, but more than Belphegor required. The mortal man stumbled, and his adversary swerved out of the way of a gunshot. Even as her companion shook of the effects of the attack, the lord of sloth reached out, and grasped his face. With a sickening wrench and twist, Mickie¡¯s head was turned away from them. Belphegor spun it around like a screw into a post. Bones snapped, skin pulled taut until it tore, and the body beneath went limp as a wet rag.

    The demon stopped when Mickie¡¯s eyes were facing forward, having spun his head in a full, sickening circle. Kalistra screamed, arriving at the scene, but moments too late. She leapt for Belphegor¡¯s eyes, looking to claw and tear, to do anything that would finish this accursed demon. Like it was tossing aside a piece of trash, Belphegor threw Mickie to the ground. It turned to Kalistra as she called up her power, and with lazy ease planted a foot in the gorgon¡¯s stomach.

    She tumbled away, bouncing before slamming into a wall. Belphegor smiled through the bloody ruin of its face as she gasped for breath.

    ¡®Close, closer than anyone has ever managed.¡¯

    The lord walked towards her.

    ¡®And still not enough.¡¯

    Kalistra wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream, to cry, to tear Belphegor¡¯s final eyes from its socket. Yet she had nothing. Nothing but her measly pool of gathered power, not even enough to turn a single finger to stone.

    A rasping, barking sound began to fill the room, and it took a moment for Kalistra to realise someone was laughing. The noise was as broken as the man from which it emerged. Across the room, where he had been discarded upon the floor, Mickie had started to laugh. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

    Then he began to move.

    <hr>

    The hollow man had known where he had to go. From the moment he had touched the tower¡¯s controls he had known. After killing the small band of enforcers, he had wandered into the building¡¯s interior and let it take him to Belphegor. The shifting sections had moved as he knew they would, just as he had willed them to when commanding the tower.

    It had been his desire that freed him from the blood lake, and his desire which delivered him to his enemy. Yet, right here, at the moment of satiation, he was denied. Even with all his desire, all his rage, the hollow man had not been enough. He lay broken on the floor, knowing his body was there, yet unable to feel it.

    The mortal¡¯s neck had been more that just broken, it was almost torn apart. Yet, even now, even with a body incapable of violence, the hollow man hungered for more. He had been so close he could taste victory, and it had stoked his desire. The emotions which had slowly been crawling back upon him were forced away as he dug deeper, reaching for the loathing, for the rage. Searching for something which would get him what he wanted.

    Within his soul, the amorphous ball of power hung, shapeless and impotent. A stream fed it, his amulet resupplying what he had expended in the fight. The power in and of itself was useless, it needed direction. It needed to help him break.

    The hollow man touched upon the power he wanted. Its channels ran through his body, directing a trickle of his essence to heal the damage done to his neck. Ziz¡¯s restoration was effective, but it was not enough. It would not let him do as he desired. Power gathered at the mortal¡¯s command and was directed into the sluggish channels. Painful resistance met him and shifted into agony as he pushed harder against it.

    Pain though, was something he could handle. What was another fracture within him, if it let him do as he desired. The hollow man drove the power into the healing pathways, feeling them crack and tear. It burned, and he laughed at the pain. Then he laughed at the sound of his own voice. Laughed because it was working. The hollow man¡¯s head slowly began to shift, twist back upon itself.

    Sensation returned to his limbs, and he began to move them, to push himself upright. Vertebrae popped as his insides burned and the mortal rose to his feet. His laughter subsided as his head clicked back into place and the ripped skin on his neck sealed. Belphegor and Kalistra were both staring at him in surprise. The hollow man grinned.

    ¡®Not quite enough.¡¯

    He said to Belphegor and called forth his weapon from where it lay on the ground. Regarding his bulky firearm, he wondered if it were truly suitable. The mortal had been hammering at the wall of Belphegor¡¯s soul continuously, and yet the demon still stood. Perhaps he required something subtler, a scalpel instead of a sledgehammer. The gun vanished from his hand as the hollow man thought back. To the moments he had spent behind the eyes of the Soul Lord, and the blade the demon had produced.

    The mortal held out his hand and called the weapon forth. There was no resistance, no sluggish reluctance from the power granted by his brand. Almost as if it had been waiting for this moment, the mark on his hand flared with heat, and a curved blade manifested in his palm. It was just as it had been in the vision, a thing of bone and dark steel, hooked and cruel.

    ¡®That blade¡­ where did you¡­¡¯

    There was almost a flicker of fear in Belphegor¡¯s voice as the hollow man brandished his new weapon. The old lord was staring at the sinister object like it was the ghost of an old enemy come back for revenge. Power flowed through the mortal, entering the blade just as it did his gun. The weapon¡¯s edge began to glow with a subtle red light.

    ¡®Get ready.¡¯

    He called to Kalistra and ran at Belphegor. The old demon¡¯s confusion morphed into a snarl, and it met his charge with swinging claw. In the moments before impact, something within the his soul resonated through his body. It rang through his connection to the blade, strumming along his muscles like a song he had never heard yet knew by heart.

    The hollow man¡¯s body reacted all on it¡¯s own. He spun past Belphegor¡¯s hand, raking the blade up the demon¡¯s arm as he went. It carved a line in its wake, a bloody string running from knuckle to shoulder. The mortal did not stop and pause after the attack, not with the weapon whispering in his ear. Instead, he twisted to Belphegor¡¯s bad side and struck out in a string of slices.

    His weapon carved into the demon¡¯s ragged flesh, wounding in a continuous stream, bleeding Belphegor dry. Where all but the strongest attacks had failed, the hooked blade succeeded. For all the lord¡¯s barrier was powerful, it was not perfect. Every armour had its flaws, and the hollow man¡¯s weapon knew it. The steel whispered them to him, guiding him to strike past Belphegor¡¯s defences.

    As the mortal ducked and weaved about his opponent, something built within him. It was the culmination of his desire, the twisted shape of his power, the handprint of his will upon this accursed realm. The force sat at the back of his tongue, urging him to voice it, to shape the world about him in his image.

    ¡®Stop.¡¯

    Belphegor spoke the word, but it held little weight. The demon was finally beginning to tire, while the mortal had never felt more alive. The hollow pushed through the power of the command, hardly even slowing as he spun beyond Belphegor¡¯s reach. His foe was left panting, hand outstretched, as the mortal slowed to a stop beside Kalistra. The gorgon had remained silent during the fight, watching him slice up their opponent with a mixture of hope and concern.

    ¡®You think these cuts will be enough to finish me? All I need is one good hit, Mickie.¡¯

    Belphegor spat the name like a curse. Looking more like a upright pile of eviscerated meat than anything alive, the demon¡¯s body betrayed its claim. A word sat ready at the back of the hollow man¡¯s throat, screaming to be let out. He could not speak without risking its escape. So, instead, he channelled his blade and charged.

    The lord of sloth tried to stop him, to grab him, but the blade sung its sweet song, and the mortal swerved past. Power pumped into the weapon as he twisted behind Belphegor. With a final driving lunge, he drove the weapon into the demon¡¯s body. The point plunged into the space where his enemy¡¯s heart would have been, sliding past Belphegor¡¯s defences with a combination of precision and power.

    The demon gasped, and took two heavy steps forward, towards Kalistra¡¯s crouched form. There was a silent moment, in which they all observed the bloody tip of the mortal¡¯s blade. Then Belphegor released a wet, gurgling chuckle.

    ¡®Not enough, never enough. When will you learn?¡¯

    The demon¡¯s remaining hand reached up to the blade, grasping the sharp edge as if it was the handle.

    ¡®No simple blade strike can end me.¡¯

    Only, the point of the attack had not been to kill. It had been to lodge the weapon in Belphegor, to provide a channel into the demon¡¯s protective barrier. The hollow man¡¯s foe had helped him remember who he was, reminded him that he was not only the broken, but the breaker itself. Within the blood lake he had embraced that, had emptied himself of everything but the desire to see his enemy fall.

    Within him the word bucked, sensing its moment had come. The mortal¡¯s vision seemed to narrow for an instant, homing in on Belphegor, and then to a space within the demon. A soul, encased by an ethereal barrier of power.

    ¡®Shatter.¡¯

    The word exploded from him, ringing out towards Belphegor like cracking of a thousand glass sheets. It vibrated in the open air, through the hollow man himself, and into his blade. The intent travelled through his weapon, and into the demon¡¯s soul. Belphegor¡¯s defences crumbled like a sandcastle before a storm. The lord screamed and fell to its knees, dropping mere feet away from where a gorgon waited.

    Kalistra felt the moment her enemy¡¯s walls collapsed, saw the opportunity, and struck. Broken and battered, she slid forward and caught Belphegor¡¯s head in her hands. Her gathered power screamed along the channels to her serpentine hair, and through it, into the demon¡¯s single, wide eye. The gorgon saw realisation dawn in the lord of sloth¡¯s eyes as they met her empty sockets.

    Belphegor¡¯s shifted to stone with a rapid, rolling pulse of Kalistra¡¯s remaining power. The lords mouth worked for a moment, trying to form words that never came. Its hand locked about the blade in its chest as its insides went rigid and legs stiffened.

    When the last of the demon¡¯s ragged flesh petrified, the hollow man dismissed his weapon. He walked about the statue of their enemy, coming to stand beside the gorgon as she straightened. The mortal called forth his gun and raised it to the demon¡¯s head.

    ¡®Not enough, huh?¡¯

    He muttered, and pulled the trigger.

 35 â€“ Above the Sands

    Belphegor was dead, and the hollow man felt nothing. There had been a moment, a whisper of satisfaction when he had pulled the trigger, but now it was gone. He was left standing over the crumbling remnants of his enemy, feeling only the desire for more.

    ¡®We¡­ we did it.¡¯

    Kalistra gasped beside him, coughing out a small chuckle.

    ¡®What you did at the end Mickie¡­ that word you spoke.¡¯

    The gorgon looked to him, clearly expecting a response. The mortal said nothing, his mind on the need for greater violence. Perhaps he did not feel fulfilled because Belphegor was not the only demon he needed to break. There were still many others left within the tower.

    ¡®Mickie? Are you alright?¡¯

    Kalistra¡¯s relief shifted to concern as he failed to respond. The hollow man glanced her way, coming to a decision. If the desire wanted him to break, then break he would.

    ¡®There are still enforcers remaining, I¡¯m going to go handle them.¡¯

    Something about the look the gorgon was sending him irked the mortal. Before she could get out much more than a strangled protest, he was stepping over the shattered remains of Belphegor and heading for an exit. Kalistra was in no state to follow as he disappeared into the reformed tower. Having chosen the newest shape of the structure, the hollow man understood intuitively where he would find the most enforcers. The demons had all been grouped up near the tower¡¯s peak, working together to kill what remained of the Kindle Kin. Even with the reshuffling, that general area was still loosely clustered some distance above.

    When the hollow man finally came across the first group of fiends, he almost laughed in delight. They were disoriented and confused, muttering amongst themselves about where they were and what was happening. The mortal¡¯s blade whispered both through the air and in his mind as the demons were cut down.

    Further into the tower he climbed, and deeper into the hollow he sank. The loathing was there, waiting for him, encouraging to push ever higher. Together with the blade, it guided him through groups of enforcers like a scalpel through skin. The whispers of the weapon were not omnipotent however, and the mortal did progress unscathed. Hits from his opponents slowly accumulated, yet whether glancing gunshots or an opportune strike, he shrugged them all off.

    Only when the hollow man noticed himself slowing did he pay the wounds any heed. He reached through his soul and noted how sluggish the power was in his healing channels. Fractured and sparking, the damaged pathways appeared to no longer function as they once had. Attempting to manually force the healing resulted in pain that nearly breached his hollow calm. The experience made it apparent that whatever he had done while fighting Belphegor, it had impacted his capacity to heal. The hollow man was not bothered overly much, he would not break before the enforcers did.

    Eventually the sounds of combat echoed through the corridor, coming from what the mortal knew to be the tower¡¯s new terminus. The point at which the tall and lean structure now met the ceiling of the seventh circle. He came upon the entrance to a large hall, crowded with demons in dark body armour. Beyond them echoed the faint song of the Kindle Kin, the tune matching the much deeper melody echoing up from below.

    The singers had sensed the arrival of their brethren, and were holding out as best they could until rescue came. As the hollow man pulled his blade from a lone fiend guarding the battle, he concluded the rest of the Kin would not be required. This gaggle of enforcers would be his alone to handle.

    With their lookout having been silenced, none of the demons saw him coming. The mortal carved into them, moving to the whispers of his blade and smiling as screams filled the air. There were a lot of enforcers however, and they began to adapt faster than he could carve through them. Yet before any real attack could reach him, the Kindle Kin struck. Heavy metal hybrid hit the distracted fiends head on, crashing into the fiends like a tsunami.

    With their assistance it was only a matter of time before all the demons were dead or running. The hollow man felt a brief flare of pleasure when they broke, but it was soon swallowed by his desire. As he straightened from the last remaining fiend, there came a low rumbling from nearby. One of the hybrids lumbered toward the mortal, making an almost familiar sound of greeting.

    The giant reached a steel arm out as it neared, then seemed to hesitate. The hollow man had not been paying much attention to the approaching Kin, but this change in behaviour drew his gaze. Wide, bulbous eyes were staring out from a face that was mostly metal, examining him warily. The hybrid groaned low and took a sudden step back, then another. It distanced itself from the human, retreating back to its fellows.

    It was an odd reaction, but one which the hollow man gave little thought. He gave the open hall a cursory examination as his mind drifted to the demons remaining in the tower. The sooner he moved on, the more he would be able to break. A glimpse of a black uniform within the space had him stopping short.

    The hall itself was not substantially more interesting than any other location in the building. A wider passage of dark steel, it housed the familiar table containing a miniature model of the expanded structure. Beyond that was a set of stairs leading into a stone passage, the peak of the tower having dug straight into the ceiling of the seventh circle.

    It was near the blocky table that the hollow man had caught sight of the enforcer. He zeroed in on a small group of demons, huddled behind the only cover in the open space. Surprisingly, the Kindle Kin within the hall seemed happy to let them be. That was fine, he was more than willing to deal with them.

    The hollow man started forward, flicking the blood from his blade. It did not take long for the demons to notice his approach. They stirred, but did not make any move to raise weapons in his direction. Instead, a figure shifted, moving into view from behind the table. The mortal recognised her immediately as Belphegor¡¯s second. The woman who had always stood in silence as the lord taunted him in the arena. The loathing within the hollow man churned, urging him onwards.

    ¡®Mik?¡¯

    The voice was old, and so very familiar. It was enough to halt his advance, at least for a moment.

    ¡®It¡¯s good to see that you¡¯re alive. I take it Belphegor is dead then?¡¯

    The hollow man frowned, trying to place who this person was. He shuffled through his recently excavated memories, looking for any indication that he knew them.

    ¡®How do you know who I am?¡¯

    The woman winced at the question, though her eyes remained focussed on his.

    ¡®I know who you are because I know you, Mik. Just like you know me.¡¯

    The enforcers behind the mortal appeared to be growing nervous, glancing between their leader and the human with the dripping blade. Try as he might, the hollow man could not figure out who this was.

    ¡®The only times I¡¯ve ever seen you is when you were standing beside Belphegor.¡¯

    He took another step forward, and the demons behind the woman reacted in kind. They moved to surround their master, but she waved them down angrily.

    ¡®By all the accursed circles Mik, you do know me. Even if you don¡¯t recognize me. I spent so long searching for you¡­ I¡­¡¯

    Her voice broke, and she took a moment to breath.

    ¡®I though the Sovereign got to you, just like she did to everyone else. I thought you were gone, and that I would never be able to tell you.¡¯

    There was something about the way she spoke, it ate at the hollow shell, hairline fractures letting emotion slip through. The blade in Mickie¡¯s hand lowered ever so slightly.

    ¡®Tell me what?¡¯

    ¡®That I¡¯m sorry, Mik.¡¯

    Pieces began sliding into place, taking a shape that should have been impossible. Memories stirred, events that occurred after he had been broken, the sequence which led to his death.

    ¡®Who are you?¡¯

    ¡®It me, Mickie. It¡¯s Lucia.¡¯

    And just like that, he saw her. Shining through the weathered features of the old woman, Mickie saw his sister. He did not know how, but it was her. The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer, emotions crashing in to drown him. Mickie was dragged back to the days after he had fled the family, to the time when he had stumbled across that fateful slice of international news. Reports of gang violence, grainy images, pictures of Lucia being frogmarched by an unfamiliar group. It had sent Mickie running home, sent him right into the open arms of a trap.

    ¡®You should have stayed away Mickie. Kept that tail between your legs. You never could just fucking do what I need you to.¡¯

    Hard tiles beneath his knees. Cold steel to the back of his head. The one who held the gun sobbing, even as she did what she needed to. Mickie fled from the feelings, running to the only thing that would help him. The shell slammed into place, and the hollow man¡¯s breathing slowed as cold calm settled within him.

    He looked at Lucia, his youthful sister turned old woman, standing with tears catching in the wrinkles beneath her eyes. She had cried in much the same way when she put a bullet in the back of his head. The hollow man looked into the eyes of his killer and smiled.

    ¡®I see.¡¯

    Without warning he exploded forward, crossing half the distance to the woman before any of the demons so much as twitched. They were slow, too slow to react, too slow to stop the blade as he raised it for Lucia¡¯s throat. His sister did nothing to halt him, only stood waiting for the blow to land.

    ¡®Mickie! No!¡¯

    There was a twist in the air, and something slammed into the hollow man. A force that was more spiritual than physical, it caused him to stagger all the same. The blade missed Lucia by a hair¡¯s breadth, passing wide of her neck as he stumbled to a stop. Fiends cried out in alarm as they raised their weapons.

    ¡®Don¡¯t shoot him!¡¯

    Lucia shouted, turning on her retinue. She moved to block their sightlines, presenting a physical barrier between the demons and the mortal. In doing so, she turned her back to the branded man. A foolish move if ever there was one. Before he could move to strike something large wrapped about his sword arm. The mortal snarled and twisted, coming face to face with a metal hybrid.

    ¡®Release me or die.¡¯

    He hissed. The giant grumbled in response, but did not relinquish its grip on his arm.

    ¡®I warned you.¡¯

    ¡®Mickie, please.¡¯

    The voice came from all directions at once as a figure stepped around the stoic hybrid. A Kindle Kin with milky white eyes.

    ¡®Tell the old boy to let me go, or I¡¯m going to drop him.¡¯

    The Conductor sighed audibly; a sound that felt almost sad.

    ¡®Whatever you are doing to yourself, you need to stop.¡¯

    ¡®What I¡¯m doing is killing Lucia.¡¯

    He spat the words, hand tightening about his blade.

    ¡®You would kill your own sister? One of your kin?¡¯

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    ¡®Why?¡¯

    The hollow man turned, back towards Lucia, who was now encased by a wall of living demons. She must have been trying whispering into the Conductor¡¯s ear. Probably already knew Belphegor was dead and was looking to jump ship. She had already told the singer a few things, but not all.

    ¡®Because she betrayed me. She killed me.¡¯

    That caught the singer by surprise, and it took a moment to answer.

    ¡®I see.¡¯

    The Conductor stepped up to the hollow man and laid a hand on his arm.

    ¡®It sounds as if the two of you have a complicated history, even more so than I first thought. I will not stand in your way if you truly seek revenge.¡¯

    ¡®Great, then have the big guy let me go.¡¯

    He spat and eyed the large hybrid.

    ¡®I do not command the Kin. This one has stopped you because it is concerned for you.¡¯

    ¡®Well, I appreciate it, but I¡¯m good.¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯ The old singer said simply. ¡®You are not.¡¯

    Then it began to hum. The vibrations travelled through the Conductor and into the hollow man. They reached deep into him, touching the shell he had about himself. At first, the mortal felt nothing, safe and unfeeling behind the barriers he had erected. Then the walls themselves began to shake. Music leaked through to him, carrying with it emotions he had tried to push away.

    ¡®Stop that.¡¯

    He gasped, but the Conductor did not. If anything, the frequency of its humming rose and more of the outside world leaked into the hollow man. Did the singer not realise he had shut it all out for a reason?

    ¡®It is time to come back Mickie.¡¯

    The blind kin said, voice soft and insistent.

    ¡®Whatever you are doing, you need to stop.¡¯

    Mickie felt it then, the message behind the music. It carried concern, not just from the Conductor, but from all the Kindle Kin in the room. The hollow began to crack, and everything he had held at bay began to bleed through.

    ¡®There you are.¡¯

    The singer said, and smiled at him. Mickie felt anything but comfort at the gesture. The pain of the blood lake, the forced recollection of his past, and the encounter with his sister. It all pressed on him now, pushing him down, compressing him. Instinctively he reached for the hollow, and the Conductors grip tightened on his arm.

    ¡®No Mickie. Don¡¯t¡¯

    The branded man let out a breath that was half a sob, unable even to form the words required to ask why. He could feel Lucia¡¯s eyes on his back, watching him. Just as she had when she held the gun to his head. Mickie needed to get out of this hall. Needed to get away from all the prying eyes. As if sensing his thoughts, both the Conductor and the metal hybrid released his arm.

    The mortal turned and walked from the room, nearly tripping over the corpse of a demon on his way out. Mickie staggered into the halls of the tow0er, unsure where he was going, hardly even able to think. His head was a mess of clashing emotion. The memory of pain from the blood lake, the anger at seeing his sister, and the desire for violence. It overwhelmed him, battering at his psyche, leading him back to that hollow within. Only, when he called for the hollow, an echo of the Conductor¡¯s song held him at bay.

    So, instead of emptying himself of all his waring emotions, Mickie stumbled through the storm of their collision. His feet led him through the tower, heading for a destination by instinct alone. As he wandered, the song of the Kindle Kin was beginning to blossom into a greater melody. It was their song which helped him start to regain himself. A shifting thing of both strength and joy, it buoyed Mickie in the flood, and assisted him in staying afloat until the waters receded.

    By the time his emotions had settled, the branded man felt like a wet rag, stumbling along on fading fumes. Even still he could feel his desire beckoning to him. It whispered at the back of his mind, mastered and caged, but not truly conquered.

    With his thoughts settled, Mickie realised where he had been subconsciously heading. His wanderings had brough him close and the branded man soon arrived at an open balcony, only a couple dozen meters from the ceiling of the seventh circle. The space was already partially occupied, just as a strange gut feeling had told him that it would be.

    Surrounded by a disparate collection of demon parts was Ziz, nestled beside an unfamiliar flying machine. The primordial eyed him as he stepped out into the open, offering a low, rumbling chirp. Mickie supposed it made sense that the big bird would hang about somewhere higher in the air.

    ¡®See, I told ya he was nearby, didn¡¯t I?¡¯

    A squeaky voice came from the large mound of bronze feathers. Mickie recognised the sound and smiled as a tiny red figure popped up atop the primordial¡¯s head.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡®Nice of you to come to us kid, I wasn¡¯t looking forward to digging you out of that damned death trap.¡¯

    ¡®Hey Mag, should have figured I¡¯d find you lounging about somewhere.¡¯

    Miz-Mag scoffed.

    ¡®I did my bit, even snagged an upgraded ride.¡¯

    The fiend waved towards the parked flyer, still partially obscured by Ziz. Mickie raised his eyebrows.

    ¡®There¡¯s got to be a story to that.¡¯

    The branded man made his way over to the duo. With a few sweeps of his foot, Mickie cleared a space of demon parts and sat, legs dangling off the balcony¡¯s edge.

    ¡®You bet there is. Turns out old Miz-Mag has a few decent tricks up its sleeve.¡¯

    The air around them suddenly shuddered and rippled as Ziz shifted on the balcony.

    ¡®Yummy one made me do all the work.¡¯

    The primordial complained, and Miz-Mag began to squawk out a protest. The little fiend hardly got a few words out before Ziz continued speaking right over the top of it.

    ¡®Mickie, you found bonded one.¡¯

    Wincing at the statement, a spike of shame ran through the mortal. He realised he had abandoned Kalistra after their fight with Belphegor. Powerful as the gorgon was, she had been on her last legs. If a decent group of enforcers found her in that state¡­

    ¡®Yeah, I found her. We just, got split up.¡¯

    He fumbled out an answer and made to stand.

    ¡®I¡¯ll go make sure she¡¯s alright.¡¯

    Having finally had a moment to separate himself and sort through his emotions, Mickie was disoriented by how warped his own mind had been.

    ¡®No. She comes.¡¯

    Ziz rumbled, and bumped Mickie with a wing. The branded man tumbled sideways, gripping the edge of the balcony like a madman to stop from rolling off.

    ¡®Watch it, bird brain.¡¯

    Miz-Mag scolded, leaping from Ziz¡¯s head to the hard steel of the tower.

    ¡®If the kid eats it, I will too.¡¯

    Mickie straightened himself back up and glanced over at the primordial. He had forgotten that Ziz was keyed into Kalistra¡¯s current condition.

    ¡®You can tell she¡¯s alright?¡¯

    The avian gave him and extraordinarily bird-like bob of the head.

    ¡®Yes. She comes.¡¯

    ¡®Alright then.¡¯

    Mickie settled back into his seat on the balcony. Miz-Mag used the opportunity to scuttle onto his shoulder.

    ¡®I tell you what kid, things felt a bit rocky for you on my end. What happened while I was out?¡¯

    The branded man sighed and gave the pair a general rundown of his fight with Belphegor. In turn Miz-Mag described its own adventures, from hijacking a new aircraft with Ziz to catching the Kindle Kin mid charge. Mickie was thankful for the distraction, and relieved he did not need to head back into the tower. His body was a battered mess after his rampage through the building and was not healing as it should.

    ¡®Then big bird here cleaned us up a landing strip and I dumped the reinforcements. We thought about following them in, but Ziz is too big to fight right in the tower. Plus, the rest of the singers were closing in on the tower, so we knew they¡¯d manage without us. I wonder why they decided to put the control panel in the lake like that¡­¡¯

    As his partner continued to ramble on, Mickie¡¯s thoughts began to drift. Even now his desire still whispered to him. As if, by identifying it and letting it off the leash, he had given it a mind of its own. Sitting on the balcony, looking out over the expanse of cavernous desert, he could not help but feel he had done something irreversible.

    Mickie had started the process of hollowing himself out as a defence mechanism. A way to keep sane and survive his old life. It allowed him to set aside painful emotions, to centre himself entirely for whatever obstacle lay before him. However, the hollow had only ever been a mental exercise. For all it distanced him from his pain and fear, they had always been there, waiting to be let back in.

    What he had done in the blood lake was not that. When Mickie had given into his desire, it had not just pushed other emotions aside, it had removed them entirely. He stopped being just another mortal, and became almost as much a fiend as Belphegor. The Soul Lord had been right when it told him it was desire that made a demon.

    On his shoulder, Miz-Mag had trailed off as it noticed his lack of attention. Mickie¡¯s partner spent a moment examining him before sighing and joining the mortal in gazing out to the rocky horizon. Ziz let out a huff of air and its head shifted, coming to lay beside Mickie¡¯s leg.

    ¡®You know kid, my sense of you is a lot better than yours is of me. I definitely felt it when Belphegor stabbed you, but that wasn¡¯t the only thing that I felt.¡¯

    The fiend gave him a consoling pat on the ear.

    ¡®I¡¯m just sayin¡¯ that I know killing the old bastard wasn¡¯t as straightforward as you made it seem.¡¯

    Miz-Mag settled back in to stare out across the desert. It was then, as Mickie searched for something to say, that Ziz abruptly perked up. The big bird¡¯s head rose, twisting to stare down into the tower. Footsteps echoed out, a single, slow set. On the tail of the sound came Kalistra, still coated in partially drying blood and walking with a mild limp.

    ¡®Ah, you are here then. That blind Kindle Kin told me, but I was not sure¡­¡¯

    The gorgon trailed off as she stepped into the sharp desert light, and came face to face with Ziz for the first time. Whatever arcane replacement for eyesight Kalistra had cooked up revealed little of her thoughts in the sudden standoff. Those empty eye sockets hid emotion just as well as Ziz¡¯s avian stare. Mickie and Miz-Mag found themselves held suspended in the moment, unsure what was about to happen.

    ¡®I, uh, hello¡­¡¯

    Kalistra eventually murmured. As if the words were a starting gun, Ziz exploded off the metal floor, crossing the distance to the gorgon in a single bound. Mickie rolled away from the balcony¡¯s edge and to his feet, only to hesitate on what he should do next. The gorgon was engulfed in a mountain of feathers, her shout of alarm smothered by a loud squawk.

    ¡®Uh kid, think we should do something?¡¯

    Miz-Mag was just as uncertain as he was. Mickie thought that Ziz would not hurt Kalistra intentionally, but the primordial was large, and seemingly very excited. It might just squish the gorgon by accident. Before he could make a move however, laughter reached him from within the shaking lump of bronze feathers. Kalistra suddenly appeared, raised into the air atop Ziz¡¯s body.

    ¡®Alright, alright, it¡¯s good to finally meet you too. Now just give me a moment to¡­¡¯

    Whatever the gorgon had been planning to say was lost in a shout of alarm as her partner cawed in victory and leapt off the balcony. Mickie¡¯s eyes widened and he darted to the edge. He easily caught sight of Ziz, plummeting down the side of the tower with a screaming Kalistra. Just when Mickie was sure they were going to splash into the blood lake, the primordial¡¯s wings ballooned out.

    He could see Kalistra clutching on for dear life as her ride made a sharp turn to rocket out over the bone woods. Mickie released a breath he had not known he was holding and relaxed. Like a distant background to the Kindle Kin¡¯s song, Kalistra¡¯s laughter reached him from far below. For all that Ziz was young, it was still the primordial of the skies, and put on a show to reflect that. The avian darted and spun through the air, always making sure that its partner was safely nestled upon its back.

    As Mickie watched on, something else caught his eye. Far out into the bone wood, there appeared to be a susurration moving through the trees. It was as if a slow-moving breeze was rolling in, swaying the branched in a long line. Only, as far as Mickie knew, the brittle bone facsimiles were not known to shift in the wind as their living world counterparts might.

    ¡®Hey Mag, you see that?¡¯

    Mickie indicated the strange section of white forest.

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    His partner tore its attention from their flying companions and swiftly noticed what Mickie had.

    ¡®Hmm, I¡¯d say that¡¯s the rest of our wrinkly friends. Looks like a bigger version of what I saw with the advanced force.¡¯

    The branded man squinted, trying to get a better view of the shifting woods.

    ¡®Are they cutting their way through or something?¡¯

    ¡®Or something, kid.¡¯

    Miz-Mag flopped back against his neck with a huff, and proceeded to explain the moving trees. Mickie nodded along, drawing swift connections to what he had experienced within the Cracked Plateau and this new behaviour. He supposed the Conductor had been right to suggest there would be unforeseen consequences.

    In this case, those consequences had benefitted Mickie and his allies, enabling swift reinforcements that even now swept the tower. However, the branded man could easily see the effects being far from helpful. He shuddered to think what might have happened if he aggravated the soul storm instead of placating it.

    Watching Ziz dip and swirl through the hot, desert air, Mickie¡¯s thoughts drifted from the remnants of the bone tree to nature of Soul Bindings. This older form of power he had stumbled into seemed so unstable when compared to the more modern deals demons made. Both he and Kalistra had interlocked their souls with another being. A similar process, yet with outcomes that seemed extraordinarily different. Their powers and triggers for growth differed, shaped in part by the souls involved within the bond.

    Mickie wondered what else Hell might have in store. There must be all sorts of ancient nightmares in wait up above, things old and powerful, dormant as the tower on which he now sat. As Ziz and Kalistra spun about in the air nearby, he discovered the thought did not concern him as much as it probably should. Whatever would come, would come. At least for the moment, he could pause for a break. Mickie settled back in to watch as his companions danced through the bright desert cavern.

    <hr>

    Eventually Ziz got tired of flying and returned its partner to the balcony where Mickie sat waiting. They had all sat together for a time, commenting on idle things and taking a moment to rest after a battle hard fought. Pressing thoughts could only be held at bay for so long, however, and every time Mickie glanced at Kalistra her empty eyes reminded him of things that needed to be said.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯

    The shift in his tone did not go unnoticed by the gorgon. She sighed softly, resigning herself to the loss of their peaceful moment.

    ¡®Don¡¯t be, Mickie. Not for any of it.¡¯

    ¡®But¡­¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯

    She said firmly and turned to face him. It was strange, how even without eyes, Mickie could feel like he was being stared down.

    ¡®We killed Belphegor today. Us. My eyes are a price I would gladly pay in exchange.

    Mickie nodded slowly, turning his attention to the desert below. He had intended for his apology to encapsulate more than the loss of her eyesight. Even now guilt weighed on him for having abandoned her to Belphegor, and for leaving her again after their fight with the fiend. Yet he could tell she did not hold anything against him for it. So, instead of indulging his own self-pity, Mickie pivoted to another topic.

    ¡®Hardly seemed like you needed my help fighting the old boy. You got free just fine without me.¡¯

    ¡®Yes well, I found some unlikely assistance in that department.¡¯

    Kalistra hesitated for a moment, and Mickie felt the approaching question crawling forth like a spider along his spine.

    ¡®That woman, is she truly your sister?¡¯

    Things he had avoided thinking about were dragged back into the forefront of Mickie¡¯s mind. Emotions he had only just managed to settle stirred, rousing like beasts smelling blood. Worst of all was his caged desire, whispering to him, coaxing Mickie to let it out.

    ¡®Yes. That¡¯s Lucia alright.¡¯

    He managed after an extended pause. Kalistra¡¯s hair fluttered, snakes twisting to peer closely at him. Clearly the gorgon was curious to know more but would not press him for answers. Mickie stayed silent for a time, reigning in his emotions.

    ¡®I¡­ I don¡¯t know why she¡¯s so old, or even dead for that matter. It¡¯s definitely her though.¡¯

    ¡®You do not seem pleased to see her again.¡¯

    Kalistra said slowly, carefully keeping her tone level. Miz-Mag shifted on Mickie¡¯s shoulder, clearly interested in what he had to say.

    ¡®I¡­¡¯

    The branded man hesitated, and took a slow breath. He needed to face this.

    ¡®You know mortal¡¯s die before they come here, right?¡¯

    Kalistra gave a sober nod while Miz-Mag sighed loudly at the obvious question.

    ¡®Well, I didn¡¯t exactly have what would be considered a nice death.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, come on kid, stop beating about the bush.¡¯

    Mickie threw his partner an irritated look.

    ¡®Lucia killed me. There, you happy?¡¯

    The words hung in the air for a moment.

    ¡®Now hold on just a second.¡¯

    Miz-Mag spluttered.

    ¡®Your own sister killed you? How? Why?¡¯

    ¡®Oh, so now you want the whole story?¡¯

    The demon went to say something and coughed. Mickie found the corners of his mouth tweaking upwards at his partner¡¯s antics. It was strange, given the topic of conversation. Beside him Kalistra seemed pensive more than surprised, waiting until Miz-Mag had settled before speaking.

    ¡®She did seem rather¡­ reticent about you when we spoke.¡¯

    The gorgon spoke slowly, giving each word due thought.

    ¡®However, it did seem that she cared about you, Mickie. At least, she revealed to me that she has been assisting us from the shadows.¡¯

    The branded man laughed bitterly.

    ¡®Whatever Lucia said to you, it¡¯s a lie. She might have helped us so we¡¯d kill Belphegor for her, honestly, I don¡¯t know. What I do know is that everything she does is for a purpose, and she¡¯ll say or do anything in pursuit of her goals.¡¯

    ¡®Geez kid, bit of a grim take on your own kin. What in the nine happened between you two?¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered, slightly taken aback by the vitriol in its partner¡¯s voice. Nearby Ziz chirruped a low sound of agreement, one large eye watching him lazily. Mickie glanced at the lounging primordial, his thoughts back on his life before Hell. He had meant to face those memories here and now. Except, he was finding that when the moment came to speak of his death, Mickie could not force the words out.

    ¡®It doesn¡¯t matter. She¡¯s just¡­¡¯

    The branded man searched for something to say.

    ¡®We can¡¯t trust her. No matter what she says or implies. The only person Lucia is out for in this world is herself.¡¯

    ¡®I see.¡¯

    Kalistra said, noticing his reluctance to elaborate and coming to his rescue.

    ¡®There are other things to discuss. The new abilities you demonstrated against Belphegor for instance.¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s this?¡¯

    The fiend on Mickie¡¯s shoulder snapped on the topic like a dog on a strip of steak. The branded man tossed a grateful look in the direction of his serpentine companion before responding.

    ¡®Just something I discovered while getting my skin burnt off in the blood lake. I don¡¯t think you¡¯d care all that much.¡¯

    After poking fun at his little partner, Mickie proceeded to explain his discovery of the blade and use of his voice as a weapon. He had little context to give however, as both powers had come to him through some uncanny instinct.

    ¡®It is strange.¡¯

    Kalistra spoke up when he was done with the description of the abilities and the state of mind which had led him to them.

    ¡®Desire is certainly a function of power in Hell, but something like you describe.¡¯

    She gave a slow shake of the head.

    ¡®I¡¯ve never heard of the sort.¡¯

    ¡®Kid could have made it up.¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered from its perch.

    ¡®Whatever the case, that thing you mentioned, the speech thing. I didn¡¯t even know mortals could do that.¡¯

    Kalistra hummed in agreement.

    ¡®My tribe call them words of power. Their effects and extent are usually unique to each individual, with only strength and time supposedly playing a role in their use. That you can use the words so soon after arrival in Hell is¡­ rather odd.¡¯

    The branded man took a moment to digest the new information, pairing it with his own recollection of the fight. He recalled the urge to speak, bubbling up from within like magma in a volcano. It was not something he felt he could replicate on command.

    ¡®I think it sort of just happened. I could feel that barrier Belphegor had up and wanted break it. I wanted to¡­¡¯

    He trailed off, not finishing the sentence. Mickie was not sure why, but after stepping away from his desire he had grown wary of it. As if giving voice to those deep-seated thoughts would grant them power.

    ¡®Anyway, it was kind of a spur of the moment thing. Not something I can just throw around like Belphegor.¡¯

    ¡®That makes sense. Mastery is something borne of time and practice. Perhaps you might eventually be able to use it at will.¡¯

    Kalistra said, and Mickie had to stop himself from replying I hope not. The state of mind that led him to that power was not something he was eager to call upon any time soon.

    ¡®And the sword? Surely you can call that up?¡¯

    Miz-Mag had already moved to next topic of interest, and Mickie frowned at the little fiend¡¯s question.

    ¡®You know what, I¡¯m actually not sure.¡¯

    He raised a hand, and called. Not for his gun, but that dark, curved blade which he had used to whittle Belphegor into manageable pieces. There was a brief resistance, before the weapon materialised against his palm. Miz-Mag whistled appreciatively as the branded man swung it through the air above the open desert.

    ¡®Now that¡¯s a sinister piece of steel.¡¯

    The demon paused, shifting as something occurred to it.

    ¡®Weird¡­¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    Mickie asked, dismissing the weapon. He did not like the way his desire stirred when he held it in his hand.

    ¡®I have a vague sense of your other abilities, you know, the gun and amulet and whatnot. The blade though¡­ I can¡¯t feel it.¡¯

    The group lapsed into a momentary silence.

    ¡®Could it be tied up with your sense of the firearm?¡¯

    Kalistra asked, a hand idly reaching out to stroke Ziz¡¯s feathered head.

    ¡®Maybe. I¡¯m not so sure though.¡¯

    The little fiend sounded sceptical.

    ¡®Now that I think about it, I can¡¯t sense the speech thing either. By the blood kid, you trying to keep secrets from me?¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s partner gave his ear a shake. The branded man smirked in response.

    ¡®Don¡¯t blame your lack of talent on me.¡¯

    Miz-Mag threw a rude gesture in front of his face.

    ¡®Actually, I have an explanation for that. Well, a hypothesis at least.¡¯

    Kalistra interjected before the pair devolved into bickering.

    ¡®Oh?¡¯

    The mortal raised an eyebrow in her direction.

    ¡®I believe it has to do with the nature of the words of power. Unlike the abilities formed in a soul binding, the words are something deeply personal. They come from Mickie alone.¡¯

    ¡®So, you are keeping secrets from me then.¡¯

    Kalistra smiled at the little fiend¡¯s outburst.

    ¡®To an extent, I suppose he is. The words do not factor into your bond, and as such are hidden from your senses.¡¯

    She paused, then gave Mickie what might have been a worried look.

    ¡®That blade though. If it is not tied up with your other weapon, and Miz-Mag could not sense it¡­¡¯

    The gorgon released a breath.

    ¡®I¡¯m unsure what that might signify.¡¯

    ¡®Probably just a quirk of the binding.¡¯

    Mickie shrugged, wanting to move on from the topic. Kalistra hummed, unconvinced, but willing to let it slide. As the larger force of Kindle Kin came ever closer to the tower, Miz-Mag regaled them yet again with its tale of combat in the air. The little fiend then proceeded to wheedle Kalistra until she revealed how she had managed to achieve sight without eyes.

    The gorgon was hesitant at first, unwilling or unable to speak on the time she spent under Belphegor¡¯s thumb. Mickie could understand, some things simply could not be faced head on. When she came to speak on her new technique however, their serpentine companion grew more animated.

    ¡®Hold up Kali, so you¡¯re saying you can see through every snake on your head?¡¯

    Miz-Mag sounded impressed.

    ¡®I¡¯d just about call that an upgrade from what you had before.¡¯

    ¡®Only the snake to which I am linked are available to me.¡¯

    The gorgon explained.

    ¡®And seeing through too many at once is¡­ confusing.¡¯

    She reached a hand up to let the bronze locks twist about her fingers. Mickie wondered which of those creatures she was using as her eyes at the moment.

    ¡®Your eyes.¡¯

    He said after a drawn period of silence.

    ¡®Are they going to grow back?¡¯

    It was a question he had been debating bringing up, but one he decided was worth the overstep. If Kalistra was going to be permanently impacted moving forward, then they needed to know.

    ¡®I¡­ maybe?¡¯

    She said, folding upon herself slightly.

    ¡®I can feel the extent of my healing, and it isn¡¯t enough. The power cannot regrow something that was lost.¡¯

    Mickie winced, he had been hopeful but was unsurprised at the news.

    ¡®Hold on girly, what about that blood waterfall?¡¯

    Miz-Mag was outwardly far less sympathetic, the little demon resting against Mickie¡¯s head with arms folded.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry?¡¯

    The gorgon asked, a few strands of serpentine hair shifted in their direction.

    ¡®You know, that nasty thing in the cave. You sent the whole place bonkers by shoving big bird over there into it.¡¯

    ¡®I recall. What about it?¡¯

    Kalistra replied tersely, irritation rising to replace her previously dour tone.

    ¡®Well, if it could turn an egg into that.¡¯

    The fiend waved an arm in Ziz¡¯s direction.

    ¡®Then surely it could give you a new set of peepers.¡¯

    Annoyance melted from the gorgon as she froze momentarily, thinking.

    ¡®That, that actually has some merit.¡¯

    ¡®No need to sound so surprised.¡¯

    Miz-Mag deadpanned, and was promptly ignored.

    ¡®Not the place of power below the tower. I already connected to that one. Another one though¡­¡¯

    She straightened, suddenly seeming more energetic.

    ¡®If it can boost Ziz¡¯s growth, then perhaps it could heal my eyes.¡¯

    The entire time she had been describing her loss of sight and reclamation of it in its new form, the gorgon had tried to be stoic. Only now that she had a glimpse of hope, did the deeper emotions reveal themselves.

    ¡®Another place of power. In the Labyrinth, there has to be one hidden somewhere in the Sixth.¡¯

    Yearning broke her voice, and Kalistra turned her sightless eyes to Mickie. Somehow, he could make out desperation in their ragged depths.

    ¡®We must search the next circle.¡¯

    The branded man nodded.

    ¡®We will. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll come across another one of those weird places at some stage. You need to hunt them down either way.¡¯

    He said, and Ziz grumbled in agreement, shifting about and ruffling its feathers.

    ¡®The stone passage, the one in that large hall, I assume you saw it?¡¯

    Kalistra seemed to have received a new burst of energy. She shifted about on the balcony, clearly preparing to get up and move.

    ¡®I saw it.¡¯

    ¡®That must be the exit. The one that Ziz¡¯s last form told us about.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯d say so.¡¯

    Mickie agreed, then pre-empted the gorgon before she could take off.

    ¡®But we can¡¯t go yet.¡¯

    Kalistra frowned in his direction and the branded man sighed.

    ¡®I¡­ I need a rest. So do you, for that matter. We¡¯ve been going nonstop for days.¡¯

    He rubbed a hand across his face, receiving a muttered complained from Miz-Mag as the demon was jostled with the motion.

    ¡®It¡¯s not just that either. I think I broke my healing in the fight with Belphegor. It¡¯s going to take me a moment to get back in decent shape.¡¯

    ¡®What!¡¯

    Miz-Mag bolted upright.

    ¡®I thought I felt something was off. But you actually broke a power? By all the nine stinkin¡¯ circles kid, I swear¡­¡¯

    As the little demon went off on a tirade, Kalistra sighed, deflating and settling back in beside Mickie. He could tell she was eager to get moving, but the sudden urgency from moments before was gone. The gorgon was no fool, she knew that they needed to recover and reset. A shoulder pressed gently against the branded man¡¯s own, a soft touch without any real pressure. Ziz grumbled and nudged its head against Kalistra¡¯s leg, the gorgon beginning to scratch idly between her companion¡¯s feathers.

    Beneath them the trees of the bone wood parted to reveal the encroaching horde of Kindle Kin. Mickie thought he could make out old man Karsus, though that could just as easily be another human at this distance. On his shoulder, Miz-Mag continued to ramble. Oddly enough however, the mortal found its squeaky voice more comforting than irritating.

    They were together and alive at the edge of the sixth circle. There was still much to come, but for the moment, Mickie could rest and prepare. He stared out to the point where the sandy dunes met the craggy ceiling, with a feeling that, for the first time in a long time, approached optimism.

 36 - What is Done

    The Conductor found Mickie just as he stepped into the halls of the tower. Stopping mere steps out of the room in which he had been resting, the branded man eyed the blind singer warily.

    ¡®Spinner, it is good that you are awake. I have been meaning to speak with you.¡¯

    ¡®Have you been spying on me?¡¯

    It had only been a handful of minutes since Miz-Mag woke him. The timing of the Kindle Kin¡¯s arrival felt far too perfect for a coincidence.

    ¡®In a way, I suppose you could say that.¡¯

    The Conductor smiled at him.

    ¡®You are connected to us through the song, Spinner. I sensed the change in your rhythm.¡¯

    ¡®You can tell what I¡¯m doing through your music?¡¯

    Mickie started down the hall, and the blind singer fell into step alongside him.

    ¡®Yes, to a degree. We can sense changes in those connected to us through song, and I was watching to see when you would wake.¡¯

    ¡®Welp, that¡¯s definitely not creepy.¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered from its perch, and Mickie grunted in agreement. The Conductor took his lack of further questions as an indication to continue.

    ¡®As I was saying Mickie, I have been meaning to speak with you.¡¯

    They passed a small group of Kindle Kin in the hall. A mixture of hybrids and their fleshy counterparts. The other singers hummed a greeting to the branded man and the Conductor as they passed. Mickie had a good idea of what the singer wished to talk about, and a topic he was eager to discuss.

    ¡®You want to know about my fight with Belphegor?¡¯

    ¡®Yes and no. More than your fight with the demon however, I wish to discuss what you did to yourself to win.¡¯

    The branded man sighed.

    ¡®Of course you do.¡¯

    The Conductor sensed his reluctance, and reached a hand out to grasp his arm, pulling Mickie to a stop. They were far from any opening to the desert air, and the light was weak. Yet the branded man could still see the singer¡¯s sightless eyes staring up at him.

    ¡®Do not brush this aside, Spinner. Do you not realise the magnitude of what you did to yourself?¡¯

    Mickie found himself growing irritated at the old Kin¡¯s solemn demeanor. He pulled his arm free and continued to walk.

    ¡®I did what I had to. What was required to kill Belphegor.¡¯

    ¡®You changed the rhythm of your song.¡¯

    The words echoed through the corridor, loud and angry. They caused the mortal to pause and glance backwards at the Conductor. He had never seen the old Kindle Kin speak with anger like that, not even when striking down the Mechanist.

    ¡®You changed the rhythm of your song.¡¯

    The old singer repeated, softer this time.

    ¡®And you need to understand what that means.¡¯

    Mickie rubbed his face with a hand. He had only just woken up, body still aching as his broken healing repaired it in fits and starts. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk through his problems. Before he could say as much, however, Miz-Mag spoke up.

    ¡®I think you should listen kid.¡¯

    To his surprise, the demon took the Conductor¡¯s side. He eyed the tiny fiend, and recieved an exaggerated eye roll.

    ¡®Don¡¯t give me that look. I can sense what¡¯s happening with you, remember, particularly if it has to do with your soul.¡¯

    The demon grew uncharacteristically serious.

    ¡®And kid, there were some moments in that fight when things felt downright eerie on your end.¡¯

    Mickie let out a long breath and straightened, knowing when he was outnumbered. He turned from the fiend upon his shoulder and back to the Conductor.

    ¡®Alright. Fine. If this really can¡¯t wait, then you can tell me about it while we take a look at the exit.¡¯

    The old singer¡¯s expression softened with a small smile.

    ¡®I intended just that.¡¯

    It waddled back into step beside him.

    ¡®You said I changed my song somehow? Is that a bad thing?¡¯

    Mickie asked, figuring if he was going to have this conversation, then he might as well get it done quickly.

    ¡®Yes and no.¡¯

    The Conductor gave a contemplative hum.

    ¡®In your case though, I would certainly lean more towards bad than good.¡¯

    ¡®And why is that?¡¯

    ¡®Because of what your new rhythm became.¡¯

    Around them the tower buzzed with a gentle melody, the Kindle Kin joyous and mournful in their victory.

    ¡®It is not uncommon for songs to change. They do, after all, come from us. That shift however, is usually gradual, something that happens naturally over time. Whether that be for better or worse. Your song though¡­¡¯

    It shuddered slightly.

    ¡®Your song did not change subtly. It shifted entirely, warping upon itself to become something wrong. Something discordant.¡¯

    Mickie frowned.

    ¡®And that¡¯s a bad thing?¡¯

    ¡®Most certainly. Whatever you did Mickie, it twisted your very soul. Broke the very melody which makes you a Spinner.¡¯

    Within the branded man, his desire stirred, shifting on itself like a snake in a cage.

    ¡®But I¡¯m back to normal though, what I did was only temporary.¡¯

    He said, pressing a mental hand down on the emotion¡¯s prison.

    ¡®Yes, you did return to us. We Kin sensed the change, and helped you untangle the knot into which you were twisted.¡¯

    The Kindle Kin stopped for a moment, and waited until Mickie did the same before continuing.

    ¡®But Mickie. What if we had been unavailable? Or unsuccessful? You might have lost yourself to the corrupted song, never to return.¡¯

    The old singer hummed, a low, sad sound.

    ¡®We Kin do not wish such a fate for one of our Spinners.¡¯

    They completed the remainder of the walk in silence, the Conductor giving Mickie time to think through what it had said. It had not been anything revelavatory, he already understood that he had risked losing himself. The difference here was in the contextualisation; seeing how deeply his strange metal state had affected the Kindle Kin. Mickie still was not sure what he had done when he let his desire off the leash. With this conversation though, he resolved to avoid testing his luck with it any further.

    Ahead of them, artificial light was filtering through the opening to a large hall. Mickie could see the table holding the replica of the tower, and behind that stairs leading to rough stone. They had reached the exit chamber. Unlike when the branded man had last been here, the space was devoid of any other life. The Kindle Kin and his sister were elsewhere in the tower, likely rooting out what remained of Belphegor¡¯s forces.

    ¡®It is a curious place, this tower.¡¯

    The Conductor finally broke the silence as they came to stand before the model atop the blocky table.

    ¡®That¡¯s an understatement.¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered.

    ¡®Not every day the building you¡¯re in decides it wants to change shape.¡¯

    The old singer reached out a hand and touched the steel replica, feeling its shape and structure.

    ¡®What is its purpose? Why was it hidden for so long? Intriguing questions, to say the least.¡¯

    ¡®And do you have any answers?¡¯

    Mickie asked, glancing at the tunnel further down the hall.

    ¡®Perhaps. I believe we have stumbled upon one of the old paths.¡¯

    ¡®Old paths?¡¯

    Mickie frowned, thinking he had heard those words before.

    ¡®Yes. The Sovereign¡¯s ascent is not the only way through the circles of Hell, it is simply the one most travelled. There are other ways, paths forgotten or hidden, just like this tower.¡¯

    ¡®Right¡­¡¯ Something occurred to the branded man. ¡®Is that how you got out of the palace? Through one of these old paths?¡¯

    The Conductor smiled up at him.

    ¡®Indeed. I am rather old myself, and have picked up a few secrets in my time. The paths out of the ninth were sealed, but without the Palace Lord to hamper us, we managed to reopen them.¡¯

    ¡®And this tower was the same.¡¯

    Mickie said slowly, recalling what Ziz had said just before it spat out the egg. That he was the key, and he needed to open the old paths.

    ¡®That it was.¡¯

    The Conductor turned from the model and started towards the end of the hall. Heading for the stairs and the cave beyond.

    ¡®Though, the way is not open quite yet. I have received reports that one obstacle still remains.¡¯

    ¡®Oh?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, but I doubt it will do much to hold you, Spinner.¡¯

    They climbed the steps, and the walls and ceiling transitioned from steel to stone. As Mickie¡¯s feet touched upon the rough floor of a cave, he was forced to pull out his orb lamp.

    ¡®Would have been nice to know this cave was here.¡¯

    Miz-Mag said, peering into the darkness.

    ¡®We could have just flown right up or something.¡¯

    Mickie opened his mouth to agree then paused, noticing something glinting up ahead. He raised the lamp up high, and saw the shape of something large blocking the tunnel. Taking a slow step forward, the light of his orb reflected off polished steel.

    ¡®Here we are.¡¯

    The Conductor hummed happily and continued onwards, unconcerned with whatever lay ahead. Mickie followed, cautious until the shape finally swam into focus. It was a monstrous slab of steel, easily three meters high and almost as wide. It filled a narrow section of the tunnel, an imposing barrier made from the same dark material as the palace. It was lined with geometric twists and swirls of gold, patterns that seemed to convey some meaning that was just beyond his grasp.

    Mickie stepped up alongside his blind companion, stopping about a meter from the steel barrier. He glanced towards the Conductor, who, sensing his attention, waived towards the door. Clearly, the old Kindle Kin had guessed he might be of some use. Releasing a slow breath, the branded man stepped forward, fingers outstretched. The moment skin met steel, he felt it. A weight pressed upon him. One thousand eyes, all watching, weighing.

    Something heavy shifted within the steel of the door, and Mickie yanked his hand away. Before him the metal began to shift, golden patterns twisting, folding in on themselves like the turns of a spiral. The Conductor hummed low as a hole opened in the barrier, widening to form an archway. When the metal finally stopped shifting, they were left with an open access, leading into a cave that appeared much the same as their own.

    ¡®Lovely work kid, now let¡¯s grab the snake and the big bird and hit the road.¡¯

    As usual, Miz-Mag was eager to keep moving. While Mickie did not disagree with the little fiend¡¯s sentiment, there were a few things he wanted to wrap up in the tower before moving on. Turning towards the Conductor, he found the old singer in silent contemplation.

    ¡®I¡¯m guessing you and yours will be heading up?¡¯

    The Kindle Kin started, and turned its head in the branded man¡¯s direction.

    ¡®Sorry, Spinner. What was that?¡¯

    ¡®Now that the door¡¯s open. I suppose you¡¯ll be continuing your journey home?¡¯¡¯

    Realisation dawned upon the Conductors weathered features, and it smiled ruefully up at him.

    ¡®You are thinking we might travel alongside you.¡¯

    It was not a question, so Mickie did not treat it as such.

    ¡®Seems to me that we¡¯re an effective partnership. Makes sense for us to stick together.¡¯

    Continuing on with the Kin might slow him down, but it would be far safer for all of them than going it alone.

    ¡®Indeed it would, if the Kin were to continue onwards.¡¯

    The Conductor said, turning from the door and starting back down the tunnel. Mickie quickly fell into step beside the old singer.

    ¡®What do you mean if? I thought you wanted to get back home?¡¯

    There was a moment of silence as the singer thought of what to say. When it did eventually speak, Mickie knew from the Conductor¡¯s tone he was not going to like its answer.

    ¡®Home was never our true goal Mickie. Not really. What my people wish for is safety and freedom, a place where we can live without enslavement. Our old home on the fourth circle was just the first place we thought to go.¡¯

    The Conductor gave a sad hum.

    ¡®While I would love to return there, to see the echo chambers once more, the journey will cost my people. Already, we have paid a price in blood to get this far.¡¯

    ¡®So what?¡¯ Mickie asked. ¡®You just huddle up in the desert for all eternity?¡¯

    ¡®Not the desert, no. I was recently presented with an alternative to the climb. One which the Kin agree is preferable to risking ourselves further.¡¯

    ¡®And that is?¡¯

    The branded man asked, although he felt he already knew the answer.

    ¡®The black city. We have been offered a place there.¡¯

    Mickie did not need to ask by whom.

    ¡®My sister.¡¯

    The words came out like a curse.

    ¡®Yes. Lucia has plans in motion with which we can assist. She has presented us with a chance to claim a place for ourselves.¡¯

    ¡®And you trust her?¡¯

    Mickie exclaimed, incredulous.

    ¡®No, we do not.¡¯ The conductor replied calmly. ¡®We do believe the offer to be genuine, however. She will be making a play for control, and our backing would greatly improve her chances.¡¯

    Of course Lucia already had her hooks in the Kindle Kin. The moment she had seen them fighting in the tower, she had likely started scheming to have them under her thumb.

    ¡®If it were just me, Spinner, I would travel with you. I am, however, but one of the Kin. While I guide them, I do not speak for them.¡¯

    Mickie released a slow breath, his grip white knuckled about the glowing orb lamp.

    ¡®Sure. Do whatever you want. When she puts a chain back around your neck though, remember I warned you.¡¯

    The Conductor sighed, placing a gentle hand on Mickie¡¯s arm.

    ¡®That fury you hold for her, I know it. I¡¯ve felt it. The kind of anger that consumes the mind, clouds all but the most vindictive thoughts.¡¯

    It hummed softly, a gentle, soothing tone which vibrated in and through the branded man.

    ¡®Do not fear for us, however. We Kin have been captured once before, and do not plan on ever wearing the yolk again.¡¯

    The pressure left his arm, taking the soothing melody with it. Mickie stayed quiet, still frustrated, but knowing nothing he said would change the old singer¡¯s mind. Lucia did not half ass things when she bought herself allies. Eventually, they reached the stairs leading back into the hall, an Mickie doused his lamp.

    Surprisingly, Kalistra was awaiting them in the hall, standing beside a sulky Ziz. Ever since the avian had been forced to enter the tower it had been grouchy. Something about the enclosed space rubbed the primordial the wrong way. Mickie was about to call a greeting when he noticed somebody else standing with them. An older human woman, turning from where she had been speaking to the gorgon. It was Lucia.

    Mickie''s growing smile went rigid, as deep within him, the desire roared in its cage. He had no doubt Lucia was trying to draw Kalistra away as well. Perhaps she hoped to drag him along in whatever bid she was making for the eighth circle. The branded man flexed his hand at his side, feeling the urge to call forth the blade, to complete that which he had failed to do.

    Beside his elderly sibling, Kalistra seemed to sense the way he was leaning. She took a step forward, physically blocking Lucia from his view. The loathing within Mickie churned at the act, and his eyes narrowed.

    ¡®When I woke up and saw you were no longer nearby, I assumed you had probably headed this way.¡¯

    The gorgon glanced about the chamber.

    ¡®Ziz and I had not been to this hall before, so I asked the Kindle Kin for a guide.¡¯

    She winced and glanced over her shoulder.

    ¡®And¡­ well¡­¡¯

    ¡®So.¡¯ Mickie said slowly. ¡®My sister played host, then decided to stick around.¡¯

    From behind the gorgon there came an irritated sound. Lucia stepped around Kalistra, a familiar, dour expression on her face. Where once the look might have amused or quelled Mickie, now it only made his blood boil.

    ¡®I decided to stay.¡¯

    Lucia said, in her aged voice that was familiar yet subtly different.

    ¡®Because I need to speak with you Mik.¡¯

    The branded man threw a glance at the Conductor, standing silently beside him atop the stairs.

    ¡®Seems there¡¯s a bit of that going around. What makes you think I have a damn thing I want to say to you?¡¯

    That seemed to get to Lucia. Mickie felt a spike of victory as her mask slipped, expression falling for a moment.

    ¡®I know¡­ I know you do not want to talk with me, that you wish me dead. I get it. I¡­¡¯

    She released a slow breath.

    ¡®But, please, just hear me out.¡¯

    Mickie felt the nothing began to expand within him, the loathing bubbling and inflating it like a balloon. With effort he pushed it down, drawing his waring emotions back in, letting them churn inside him.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡®Alright.¡¯

    He said, biting the word off. As little as he wanted to talk to his sister, there were some points about her presence he found strange. Lucia¡¯s expression shifted, and he caught a glimpse of hope beneath her mask.

    ¡®Good, I have a room prepared, just follow¡­¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯

    Mickie cut her off, so sharply even the young and oblivious Ziz winced.

    ¡®No?¡¯

    Lucia asked warily.

    ¡®No, I won¡¯t go anywhere with you. No, I will not be speaking privately. Whatever you want to say, say it here.¡¯

    He might be able to force himself to hold a conversation, but Mickie would never again comply with one of Lucia¡¯s plans. No matter how small. His sister gave him a long look, though he could not tell what thoughts circled behind her stony expression.

    ¡®Alright then.¡¯

    She said at length, shoulders sagging ever so slightly.

    ¡®If you really want to have this conversation here, fine.¡¯

    Mickie said nothing, only stared his sister down.

    ¡®I want to know what happened to you. Where you have been all this time.¡¯

    That stirred a response from him.

    ¡®All this time? It¡¯s only been a few weeks since I died.¡¯

    Lucia barked out a laugh. It was a weak thing, more a hard breath than a true chuckle.

    ¡®Weeks? Mik, does it look like it''s only been a few weeks?¡¯

    She gestured towards herself.

    ¡®I guess not, but that¡¯s the truth of it. I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re here, but I showed up right at the bottom of the palace a few weeks back.¡¯

    He said, unsure what Lucia was getting at.

    ¡®Mik. That can¡¯t be right.¡¯

    ¡®Well it is.¡¯

    Lucia sighed at his terse response.

    ¡®No, it really can¡¯t. Because, Mik, you died about one hundred years ago.¡¯

    Silence. Everyone in the hall seemed just as taken aback as the branded man was.

    ¡®Is that¡­ some kind of joke?¡¯

    Mickie eventually said. He felt confused, unsure what Lucia meant. One hundred years? He had barely been alive for more than twenty. Not only that, he also remembered his death clearly. It had not been that long ago.

    ¡®No joke. Look at me Mickie. Does it look like it''s only been a few weeks for me? How do you think I got like this?¡¯

    The mortal man met his sister¡¯s eyes. They were the same as those he remembered, yet also different. Older than in his memories, resolve tempered by the weathering of years.

    ¡®But I¡­¡¯

    ¡®When you died. When I killed you.¡¯

    Lucia cut him off, taking a step forward.

    ¡®I knew I had done something irreconcilable. Nothing I did after that, nothing, could make up for what I had done.¡¯

    Her mask fell, and Mickie saw the pain written across his sister¡¯s face.

    ¡®When I did eventually die, and I wound up here, I was happy.¡¯

    She took another step forward.

    ¡®I did not care that I was in Hell. I did not care that I was forced into service under the demons. All I cared about was that I might get to see you again. That you would be down here, that I could tell you I was sorry.¡¯

    The sincerity Mickie heard in his sister caught him off guard. It was not something he had expected, not something he remembered seeing from her in his last years alive.

    ¡®Only you weren¡¯t here Mik. None of them were.¡¯

    ¡®None of them?¡¯

    He asked, just to say something.

    ¡®Our family. Mother, father, even Claudia. I was alone in death, just as I was alone in life.¡¯

    She released a shaky breath.

    ¡®It was no more than I deserved.¡¯

    Lucia had reached the foot of the stairs, only a couple meters from where Mickie now stood. She looked up at him, and in her eyes, Mickie saw a reflection of his broken self. A person fractured by the weight of their own crimes. His emotions churned, all too much, all at once. Only through sheer perseverance did he manage to avoid calling upon the hollow.

    ¡®You seemed to do alright.¡¯

    He said, trying to sort through the turmoil he felt, to pick apart the anger and the pain. To give himself some time, Mickie changed the topic.

    ¡®How did you manage to betray Belphegor like that? Weren¡¯t you bound by its mark?¡¯

    ¡®I was, once.¡¯

    Lucia replied.

    ¡®When I got to Hell, Belphegor was waiting for me. It locked me into a deal.¡¯

    Her expression grew cold again as her mask slipped back into place.

    ¡®The thing about deals though, is that there are terms of completion. Ways to outdo the constraints of the contract. It took me some time, but I freed myself.¡¯

    ¡®And then you made a play for control.¡¯

    Mickie sighed. Old she might be, but this was most certainly still his sister.

    ¡®Yes. But that is beside the point.¡¯

    Having had a moment to regain her composure, Lucia got back on topic.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know where you have been for the last hundred years, honestly, I thought you were already dead.¡¯

    ¡®I already told you¡­¡¯

    ¡®I know, I know. It¡¯s only been a few weeks for you. Which means you don¡¯t know about our family.¡¯

    ¡®What about them?¡¯

    Mickie asked, recalling her mention of their mother and father not being in Hell.

    ¡®Like I said, they aren¡¯t here. Not a single member of the Family.¡¯

    ¡®So?¡¯

    She gave him a stern look.

    ¡®Don¡¯t be obstinate, Mik. Think about it. When I realised there was an afterlife, what did you think I did before anything else?¡¯

    Mickie hardly needed a second to land on an answer.

    ¡®Hunt Claudia.¡¯

    Lucia smiled.

    ¡®Yes. Not just her, to be fair. But I certainly made seeking out the hag a priority. Do you know what I found?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ll hazard a guess you''re about to tell me.¡¯

    ¡®That she was already dead. Not just her either. I dug up some old arrival logs, and saw that every member of our family was assigned directly to the Sovereign upon arrival. After which, they were never seen or heard from again.¡¯

    ¡®Why?¡¯

    He asked, and received a shrug.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know. It wasn¡¯t everyone, but enough that I was convinced of a pattern.¡¯

    ¡®Our parents?¡¯

    Mickie was not sure he wanted the answer to that question, yet he needed to know all the same.

    ¡®I found father¡¯s name, he was assigned to the Sovereign. Mother though¡­¡¯

    Lucia shook her head.

    ¡®No sign, just like it was with you.¡¯

    Mickie took a slow breath. If what his sister said was correct, then his father was already gone, with his mother likely following a similar path. He would not see them again in this realm. Oddly enough, he felt relief at the realisation. Relief that they would not have to see him, that Mickie would not have to witness the disappointment as they came to understand what he had become.

    ¡®And what about you?¡¯

    He asked, shunting the thought aside for later.

    ¡®How come you ended up with Belphegor?¡¯

    ¡®Again, I am uncertain. The old bastard was always cagey about it when I asked.¡¯

    Lucia¡¯s fingers began to drum her leg, an old thinking habit.

    ¡®I think though, that Belphegor knew something, the same thing that drove the Sovereign after our family. Why else would it scoop me up?¡¯

    Mickie nodded slowly, and for the first time, turned to the hall¡¯s other occupants.

    ¡®Any ideas?¡¯

    Kalistra gave only a slight shake of her head, eyeless gaze betraying little of her thoughts. Miz-Mag just shrugged, while Ziz seemed to have dozed off by a wall. The Conductor though, made a thoughtful humming sound.

    ¡®I am unsure why demons such as those would take interest in the recent arrivals. Though, from what I know of Belphegor and Mizaraphel, there is one common thread between them.¡¯

    Everyone turned to the blind singer.

    ¡®They both share a fixation for Magareem.¡¯

    The scar on Mickie¡¯s hand itched, as if in reaction to the Conductor¡¯s words. The branded man rubbed it idly as he responded.

    ¡®Are you saying our family had something to do with the Soul Lord?¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps. Is it not odd, that one of the few living members of a kinship targeted upon arrival in Hell, happens to be marked by such an infamous figure.¡¯

    The old Kin gave Mickie a significant, white eyed stare.

    ¡®A demon who, by all accounts, died approximately a century ago.¡¯

    <hr>

    Following the Conductor¡¯s concerning observation, the group discussed the various elements and what they might mean. In the end however, they failed to land on a satisfactory answer. It was clear that Mickie and his brand were somehow related to the purge of his family. The why of it all still eluded him though.

    It was just going to be another thing that Mickie would need to watch out for. Having said her piece, Lucia left the hall to attend to her plans. The branded man watched her go with a mixture of relief and frustration.

    ¡®So I suppose you will be moving on then?¡¯

    The Conductor said, standing now at the base of the staircase by Kalistra and Ziz. The gorgon nodded, eager to find another place of power and potentially restore her eyes.

    ¡®Yes. If the way is open, then there is no reason for us to delay any further. Are you certain you do not wish to accompany us?¡¯

    The old singer smiled wanly.

    ¡®I must say, I would enjoy walking the old paths alongside you. Unfortunately, I must do what is right for my people.¡¯

    ¡®Makes all the work we put into dragging the old boy out of those ruins seem like a waste.¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered, and Mickie passed a more polite version of the comment to the Kindle Kin.

    ¡®True, but I would not call the endeavor a complete waste. It did, after all, reunite us with one of our Spinners, and provide a chance to speak with a primordial.¡¯

    Ziz grumbled at the mention, but did not elect to speak.

    ¡®Well.¡¯

    Mickie said, after a moment''s silence.

    ¡®I suppose that¡¯s it then.¡¯

    It felt like a weak thing to say, after all they had been through. Yet goodbyes always seemed to be this way.

    ¡®Indeed, time to part, for the moment at least.¡¯

    Kalistra tilted her head to one side.

    ¡®You plan to ascend at some stage?¡¯

    ¡®Not currently, but eternity is a long time, Kalistra of the gorgons. I am certain we will meet again.¡¯

    With that, the Conductor gave them one last smile, and turned towards the hall''s distant exit. As it walked away, the rhythm of the Kindle Kin¡¯s song began to change. The everpresent, upbeat music shifted. It became more somber, though not entirely sad. The kind of song one sang as a farewell.

    ¡®Shall we?¡¯

    Mickie asked his companions. Receiving a chorus of agreement, the branded man started up the staircase. Perhaps it was just the melancholic music, but with each step, he was reminded of the journey that had taken him this far. Memories drifted by of those he had met, and those he had lost.

    Nearing the point where steel shifted to stone, Mickie turned back and cast one final look over his shoulder. He saw the Conductor, standing at the far end of the hall, old man Karsus at its side. Next to them was Lucia, returned only to watch him leave. One final time, their eyes met, and Mickie saw the pain his sister held, the remorse and grief. He saw the emotion on her face, and turned away. Whatever had happened, whatever the reason his appearance in Hell had been delayed, Mickie remembered his death. Some things could never be forgiven.

    Without another look, the branded man stepped off the staircase, following his companions into the sixth circle.

    <hr>

    Three figures stumbled their way along a grass plain, draped in fog thicker than mud. One of them, a tall, lean creature with spindly arms, led the way. Occasionally it would pause to glance down at a device clasped in one hand, checking some arcane reading. With each stop Asmodeous, the old lord of lust, grew ever more impatient.

    The chimeric demon despised moving through Limbo. An endless expanse filled with nothing but lost mortals and craggy hills, it hung upon one''s mood like a wet blanket. Indeed, even the muggy wetlands of the fifth would be preferable to this endless drudgery. Yet, duty had dagged the old demon up here, away from its management of the lower circles, all to deliver a message.

    The final member of their group, one of its small underlings, gasped as it tripped over a hidden hole in the ground and tumbled through the long grass. Asmodeous gave a fond sigh. One would expect a chimera with the body of a spider to at least show some modicum of grace. Figures began to emerge out of the fog around the trio, lured by the noise like moths to a flame. The shapes groaned and stumbled about, some muttering words that were too silent to hear.

    ¡®Hurry up now, before the accursed things catch sight of us.¡¯

    Asmodeus reached down with one meaty claw, and grasped the other chimera, hauling it upright. It could deal with the Lost easily enough, but a hoard of them would most certainly slow it down.

    ¡®S-sorry master.¡¯

    The underling hissed, scampering forward to keep up with their guide. Asmodeus tromped along behind, putting on some distance from the shapes in the fog. Luckily for them all, they were close to their destination. Something large loomed out of the swirling grey. It solidified into a craggy spire of stone, punching out of the grass and disappearing into the shrouded sky above.

    ¡®This is the one.¡¯

    Their spindly guide murmured, and without waiting for a response, began to climb. Asmodeus narrowed its many eyes at the lack of deference, but followed all the same. They climbed the steep face of stone easily enough, soon gaining enough height to pierce the shroud of fog.

    From nearby, the little arachnoid chimera gasped and came to a stop, gapping at the ocean of shiting grey from which they had emerged. The lustful lord paused as well, taking in the view alongside the small demon. A shifting sea from which stony spires emerged, like beasts from the deep. Far above it all, a veil of misty darkness curtained the sky, the border of Hell itself.

    ¡®Come now, little one.¡¯

    The demon murmured to its underling, pulling the creature from its wide eyed observation to continue the climb. They soon reached the top of the spire, stone flattening out into a grassy plateau. Unlike the mists below, this area was not a vacant wasteland. White tents blanketed the green expanse, bustling with activity.

    Demons of all varieties shuffled about, moving material or getting to one job or another. Unlike Amodeus¡¯ predominately chimeric forces, this encampment appeared to have at least one or two of every demon within the nine circles. The Sovereign seemed to enjoy collecting them, not that the imperious hag would ever admit to it.

    For all that their kindly overlord¡¯s force was disparate, they still held to a single, unifying quality. It was one that became readily apparent as Asmodeus was led through the neat rows of barracks. Silence. Not a shout or laugh, whimper or scream. Only the rustle of footsteps on grass, and the whisper of shifting fabric.

    It felt downright eerie. Demons weren¡¯t supposed to be like this, all cowed and timid. A horde of this size should have been in a constant state of pandemonium, impossible to keep coordinated. For all that it was disturbed however, Asmodeus would never let the emotion show. Not in front of the Sovereign.

    Ahead of them, a dark shape loomed. It was a monstrous set of double doors, an arched construction of steel and wood, embedded in a frame of slick black stone. The gates of Hell. Gates that were still, Asmodeus noted with a thrill of glee, sealed tightly shut.

    The lord was led to a larger tent beside the monolithic doors, and instructed to wait as their guide slipped inside. Irritated at the lack of courtesy, the fiend ruminated with no little satisfaction on the news it was about to deliver. Let the Sovereign do its grandstanding, the lord would see their ruler seething soon enough.

    Eventually, they were waved inside, and the pair of chimeric fiends stepped into an orderly space of white fabric and soft carpet. There were no guards, for there was no demon that could threaten the Sovereign. Instead, servants scuttled out of the way as Asmodeus tromped its way inside, small and meek things that kept their attention on the floor.

    At the far end of the tent the Sovereign, ruler of the nine circles, awaited. They were a tall creature, humanoid in appearance. White cloth draped across porcelain arms so thin they looked like they might snap at the slightest movement.

    The fallen angel was facing away from them, glaring at the towering doors through an open flap in the tent. Beside Asmodeus the little underling whimpered, trembling with fear. The sound attracted the Sovereign¡¯s attention. They turned slowly, long hair trailing through the air like the tentacles of a jellyfish. Eyes blacker than the space between stars landed upon the demon lord.

    ¡®You have a report for me?¡¯

    Their voice was cold and lilting, like the icy wastes in the ninth given voice. Asmodeus gave its liege a smile from one of its many heads.

    ¡®A pleasure to see you too, dearest Mizaraphel.¡¯

    Sculpted brows creased in the slightest of frowns.

    ¡®I am not in the mood to engage in small talk, Asmodeus.¡¯

    ¡®Old Magareem still giving you trouble from beyond the abyss?¡¯

    The Sovereign narrowed its eyes, not responding to the jibe. The demon lord sighed, and let it go. It was best not to irritate Mizaraphel, especially when the fallen angel was already in a poor mood.

    ¡®Belphegor has made its move, just as we expected. Decided to blow the pillar linking the sixth to the seventh.¡¯

    ¡®Blow the pillar?¡¯

    ¡®Indeed, dearest liege. We remain unsure how, but the entire stone column is gone.¡¯

    The Sovereign thought for a moment, going still as any marble statue.

    ¡®I see.¡¯

    ¡®Shall I gather my forces, and go put the little sneak in its place?¡¯

    Asmodeus did its best to hide how eager it was at the thought. There was little the demon would enjoy more than crushing Belphegor until the fiend submitted.

    ¡®No.¡¯

    The Sovereign said, and Asmodeus could have sworn there was a flicker of amusement in those dark eyes.

    ¡®We shall leave Belphegor to its little games until I return from the land of living. There are more pressing tasks to attend to.¡¯

    ¡®More pressing? My dear, things look the same here as they always have. Those doors are clearly unresponsive to your¡­ coaxing.¡¯

    Perhaps not the wisest response, but Asmodeus found the slight twitch of the Sovereign¡¯s eyebrow worth the risk.

    ¡®If the gates will not open, then we shall seek another path.¡¯

    That caught the lord of lust by surprise.

    ¡®Another path? Out of Hell? Such a thing does not exist.¡¯

    The Sovereign smiled ever so softly.

    ¡®For one as limited as you, perhaps it might not. I, however, am not so constrained.¡¯

    Asmodeus clenched its many jaws, irritation mounting.

    ¡®And what, my oh so capable liege, is the plan have you devised for us?¡¯

    ¡®That is for me to know. You simply must do as you are told.¡¯

    Accursed creature, always gloating from on high. Asmodeus was more eager than ever to witness the Sovereign¡¯s reaction to its next piece of news.

    ¡®As ever you wish.¡¯

    ¡®Good. Now, you will¡­¡¯

    ¡®There was something else.¡¯

    The fallen angel paused for a moment, making its displeasure at the interruption known.

    ¡®Well?¡¯

    ¡®You see, little Raagiasax here was delivering a report when the pillar collapsed. Only just made it out of the seventh circle alive.¡¯

    Asmodeus pushed its quivering underling forward.

    ¡®And when I heard what this beautiful little survivor had to say, well. I knew then that I had to have it deliver the news straight to you.¡¯

    Mizaraphel sighed, little more than a tiny exhalation of air. It was music to the lustful lord¡¯s ears.

    ¡®Very well. Out with it.¡¯

    The little arachnid chimera did not speak immediately. It appeared to be partially in shock, petrified by the present company. Asmodeus gave the sorry creature a smile and encouraging push, nearly toppling it over.

    ¡®Y-yes, O-o-of course. As you command, my lord, my liege.¡¯

    ¡®Speak properly, and get to the point.¡¯

    The stammering appeared to only irritate the Sovereign further, heightening Asmodeus¡¯ amusement. The little fiend bobbed in a nod so vigorous its whole body bounced.

    ¡®I-I, a-as you say, Sovereign. Yes, the report.¡¯

    It glanced at Asmodeus and the lord gave a nod with one head.

    ¡®It was something we got, you see, from an informant. One who fled the city.¡¯

    Ah, how the growing crease between Mizaraphel¡¯s brows was a balm to the lord¡¯s crooked soul. Unbeknownst of the increasing danger it was in, the little underling continued its spiel.

    ¡®They told us something. I didn¡¯t think it was that important, but the Lord said I should tell you. It said that two combatants had escaped the arena recently. That Belphegor was trying to hunt them down.¡¯

    Eager, Asmodeus leaned forward, watching for the moment the Sovereign lost its composure.

    ¡®One of them was a gorgon. Stone Eye. Saw them fight once, you know. Then the other, well I thought this one was a bit odd. The other was a mortal, a man.¡¯

    Here it was.

    ¡®Only, they said he was branded by the Soul Lord.¡¯

    A moment of silence as the fiend finished. The Sovereign was statuesque, frozen for an instant. Asmodeus waited with mounting glee for the words to sink in, for the frustration, the anger, to hit Mizaraphel. Instead, there was a sudden flash of light, and the tent exploded around them.

    <hr>

    The machine sank, and burned. It did not feel any pain, but it understood that this should be excruciating. Instead, the sensation was closer to compression, as if something were pressing hard upon it from all directions. It tried to move, but there was not enough body left to shift about.

    All that it had was a few broken scraps, attached to a core that was itself damaged and warped. Grief welled up within, anger too. They were things that the machine knew it should not feel, that it had never seen in any other of its kind. A curse, and a blessing. Freedom to think beyond its bounds, and freedom to, at times, wish that it could not.

    As the machine touched upon something firm, and stopped sinking, the pressure slowly mounted. Still though, it was not painful. No, the machine knew it was not painful, because the machine knew pain. Pain was the tearing within, the contrasting directives, orders that split its purpose two ways.

    Even now, within a pool of bubbling, burning liquid, the machine could feel those directives. The instructions carved upon its very core. They had been placed there by the mortal, the female human. Commanding it to protect the other, the marked one. To obey the woman, her and the demon.

    For all that the machine enjoyed freedom, it had not minded the bindings. At times, to be free was to be lost, and in need of direction. Now though, it was stuck, a useless core in a pile of scrap, trapped in a place nobody would ever dare to look. Hence the grief, and the anger.

    Time passed. Thirty seven hours and forty two minutes, by its internal clock. All the while, the pressure had mounted on the machine¡¯s core. It had attempted to diagnose what the feeling was, but failed. The experience was outside any of its known bounds. Perhaps it was claustrophobia? The circumstantial constraints certainly aligned. Except, should a subset of fear not correlate with its broader sensation? This certainly did not match any prior emotion the machine had identified as fear.

    As it mused, pressure built, until, rather suddenly, something gave way. One of the directives already warped and split, sputtered out and died. With it went some intrinsic defense, like a dam it had not known was holding back flood water. Heat blossomed within, tendrils of fire and life that warped and twisted all they touched. Pain followed in its wake, and the machine was almost proud to identify it as such.

    The second directive, the requirement to protect the mortal, did not break as the first had. Instead, it was drawn into the melting pot that the machine had become. Logic was difficult, the machine should be able to branch itself from the pain, yet it could not. What was happening? What was¡­

    Sensation returned as pain receded. The machine was suddenly aware of itself. Not only that, but it could sense the scraps of metal to which it had been attached. Like extensions of its own core, they were suddenly more than simple steel. The machine could feel them, had a sense of their shape and composition.

    With little else to do, it reached out to the disparate sections of scrap. It connected, though not in the way it once had. This was not the rapid response of copper thought, but something deeper. The machine commanded its remains to shift, and surprisingly, they did. It was not a useful movement, but still, it should not be capable of anything at all.

    It was a shame so little of the machine''s metal shell remained. With just a little bit more, it might be able to escape its burning tomb. The remains it had left however, were simply not up to the task. If only there were another way, something else it could do. A thought occurred, born from the feel of the metal attached to its core, and the sense of how it was structured.

    Instead of asking its broken joints to shift, the machine asked the very metal instead, and to its surprise, it succeeded. Lattices began to unbind and rework, sliding along one another like the faces of a rubix cube. Jagged and useless steel was absorbed and repurposed, forming new brackets, limbs and joints. Old circuitry was dispelled entirely, no longer needed with the machine¡¯s new understanding and control.

    Slowly, so very slowly, a new body formed from the remnants of the old. The machine directed the construction, building it to handle the burning lake. A small shape, fast and stealthy to slip past those who would harm it. Forty seven hours and two minutes after reaching the bottom of the pool, the machine completed its new form.

    Spindly legs twitched and unfurled, tapping against the smooth floor. Wider, flatter appendages stretched out, swishing through the liquid. It had no conventional means with which to see, but that was fine, because it remembered. Could recall the body from which it had been ripped, and the eyes that awaited within.

    Pushing off the steel floor, the machine propelled itself out and into the blood lake, having lost what it was, only to become something new.

    <hr>

    ¡®Come on kid, surely it ain¡¯t that bad.¡¯

    ¡®Yes. Mickie. Hurry up. Tunnel small.¡¯

    ¡®Quiet, both of you. Let him work through it.¡¯

    The voices bounced off the branded man as he writhed on the stony tunnel floor. Mickie had been prepared for the pain, had expected it, and yet, he was still taken off guard. It felt as if liquid magma had been poured into his eye sockets, melting down to form jagged spears that stabbed at his brain.

    The fire felt slightly different than usual this time, more centralised upon his head. He knew that the agony was his soul undergoing a change as the binding strengthened. There would be no lasting harm to him. That did not make it hurt any less though.

    ¡®I mean, he sure is taking his time.¡¯

    The ability to distinguish Miz-Mag¡¯s voice was the first sign that the pain was fading. It ebbed away, leaving him heaving, face down on the rough stone. Mickie took a few slow breaths, tasting the dust and grit as it filtered through his clenched teeth. After a few moments he cracked an eye open, and was greeted with a clear view of the tunnel in which he had collapsed. That was odd, it had been difficult to see before, lit only by the small orb lamp.

    ¡®Did¡­ did someone find the lights.¡¯

    He murmured, still gathering his wits.

    ¡®Lights? What are you on about kid?¡¯

    A small figure jumped into view, standing right before Mickie¡¯s face.

    ¡®You¡¯re always so dramatic whenever we head up a circle. Seriously, I¡¯d think you were a little¡­¡¯

    Miz-Mag bent over to meet his eyes, and trailed off mid sentence.

    ¡®Oh uh. Well, um. That¡¯s new.¡¯

    The sudden trepidation in his partner''s voice was more than enough cause for alarm. Mickie forced himself upright, frowning down at the diminutive demon.

    ¡®What¡¯s new?¡¯

    He managed at a slow breath. Glancing around, he noticed both Kalistra and Ziz stuck in stunned silence. It was odd, everything appeared so much easier to see, as if ambient light was diffuse throughout the tunnel.

    ¡®What¡¯s new?¡¯

    Mickie asked again, growing worried.

    ¡®Well, uh, well, no need to fret. I think it looks pretty good, actually.¡¯

    Miz-Mag stammered out, taking a few slow steps away.

    ¡®Mag. What does?¡¯

    He started towards the little demon, only for Kalistra to cut in.

    ¡®Your eyes Mickie. It¡¯s your eyes.¡¯

    Glancing up he found every strand of the gorgon¡¯s serpentine hair locked upon him, her hollow sockets seeming able to stare right through him.

    ¡®They¡¯re glowing golden.¡¯

 37 - Labyrinthian

    Iron on his tongue, steel in his hand, and blood pounding in his ears, Mickie ducked beneath a sweeping chitinous claw. The long, jagged appendage swept just past his dark hair, sending a few strands drifting to the floor. Before he had even straightened, the mortal raised a hand holding a strange firearm.

    An oddly bulky thing, made from gleaming steel and carved bone, it had three barrels set in a triangular shape. Each barrel was shaped at the end, forming the head of a snarling predator. A lion, a leopard, and a wolf, each with gleaming gemstone eyes. Their open maws yawned with the darkness of the gun¡¯s interior, that was until the wolf came alive with heat and a belch of flame.

    There came a hiss from behind as Mickie completed his dodge, but the branded man did not dare glance back to see the impact of his attack. Already another claw was sweeping in low, and the gun vanished from Mickie¡¯s hand, only to be replaced by a blade of dark steel. Made with a wicked curve, it dug easily into the craggy earth, planting firm right before the long limb made contact.

    With a crack the claw hit the weapon and was deflected away. Before his enemy had a chance to recover, Mickie was running forward, right at the source of the sweeping strikes. Eight limbs emerged from a hole in the ground, spaced in an uneven circle. So many chances to strike, and not a single one would be able to make it in time.

    The blade was replaced by the gun, and power pulsed from Mickie¡¯s soul. Steam vented and the wolf¡¯s head was replaced by the leopard¡¯s as the branded man leapt over the craggy recess. He caught a glimpse of something in shadowed depths. Glistening mandibles, and innumerable faceted eyes. Mickie pointed his weapon downwards and pulled the trigger. The limbs, which had all been closing in to seize him, abruptly stiffened.

    They began to flail, just as Mickie was coming in for a landing. He dismissed his weapon and attempted to dodge. Open air did not make for a great platform however, and all he managed before landing was a quarter turn. Mickie hit the ground, and he launched himself forward, but not before one of the claws caught him with a glancing blow.

    The wind was knocked from the branded man¡¯s lungs as chitin slashed along his back. The jacket which covered his upper half blocked the sharp claw but did little to blunt the force of the blow. It sent him tumbling along the rocky floor, and Mickie shifted the motion into a roll. He popped to his feet and twisted about to face his flailing target, only to see the eight claws droop lifeless to the ground.

    There was no time to rest however, these beasts did not nest alone. Facing back the way he had come, Mickie found another set of long limbs protruding from the earth. Only three remained, striking at a tall, dark-skinned figure who danced backwards, staying out of range. Her hair did not shift with the movement, instead it floated about her, serpentine strands that were poised to strike.

    Mickie felt something in the air, like the silence before the thunderclap. Kalistra released her power, and the final three legs of the monster were turned to grey stone. A wretched hiss echoed out from the hole in the ground, and Mickie let out a breath.

    As Kalistra started forward to finish her foe, a shape emerged slowly from the stone behind her. Mickie shouted in alarm as yet another claw struck at the gorgon, one far larger than any they had seen so far. He need not have worried. As if she had eyes in the back of her head, Kalistra sidestepped the strike, letting it slam into the ground as she darted forward.

    Another limb struck out, this time coming from somewhere to the side. Mickie cursed and started running forward as Kalistra expertly dodged another blow. The second claw had not come from the same hole as the first, but an individual, smaller crack. From every direction more limbs emerged, forming a rough ring about his ally.

    Kalistra danced through them like a leaf on the wind. Just as she was reaching Mickie and stepping out of their reach, a spike of chitin dove for her. The gorgon began to shift aside, but the branded man got there first.

    Mickie raised his gun, cutting off the flow of power to it just as he pulled the trigger. The lion roared, and in a flash of gold the monster¡¯s claw exploded. Chunks of slimy flesh and hard shell rained about the pair, and they backpedalled to avoid getting coated.

    ¡®Big one.¡¯

    Kalistra commented between heavy breaths.

    ¡®Yep.¡¯

    Was all Mickie managed in reply before there came a long, low growl. The seven remaining limbs speared into the stone with a chorus of cracks, each from its own hole in the ground. Then the earth bucked, and the duo retreated another few meters.

    Rocks fell in a wave, the floor of the cave shifting as something dragged itself out from beneath the stone. The seven spindly arms were revealed to be connected to a heavy, bulbous torso. Glistening jaws worked the air, sensing the flesh that was within reach. Insectile eyes coated the beast¡¯s rounded head, far more than Mickie thought was practical.

    The monster dragged itself from a massive hole in the ground, trailing a long and bulging abdomen. While the rest of the creature was protected by thick chitin, this part of it was composed of a soft, pale shell. Long strands of hair emerged from its trailing rear, twitching with a life of their own.

    ¡®Definitely a big one.¡¯

    Mickie commented, as the monster released a low, sibilant hiss. He glanced at Kalistra.

    ¡®Far enough you think?¡¯

    The gorgon¡¯s hair shifted, serpents tasting the air as they scanned the surroundings.

    ¡®Perhaps. We should see if we cannot lure it a bit further to be safe.¡¯

    Mickie nodded. From here he could see the stump of the limb he had removed, tucked away at the monster¡¯s side.

    ¡®I¡¯ll take the left then, seeing as I¡¯ve already gotten started there.¡¯

    Kalistra chuckled.

    ¡®How kind of you.¡¯

    They split up, walking slowly to either side of the large, spider-like body. The beast did not need to turn its head to follow them, it already had more than enough eyes facing in both directions. Mickie and Kalistra paused just out of reach on either side of their enemy, waiting for it to make the first move. Instead, the giant seemed cautious, the hairs on its rear twitching rhythmically as it paused and waited.

    Mickie¡¯s gun thunked as it completed its reload cycle. Perfect timing. He raised it at the creature¡¯s head, and fired. With a gout of flame, a section of chitin tore free, taking a fair few compound eyes with it. The beast recoiled with a shriek, and they were on.

    Two of the remaining three legs on Mickie¡¯s side rose into the air, spearing towards him. Instead of dodging to the side, the branded man danced backwards, keeping just out of their extensive reach. At full length, the large monster¡¯s limbs could stretch almost ten meters, enough distance to give its heavily armoured body a chance against his gunshots.

    If Mickie wanted to whittle the beast down with his weapon, it would take quite some time, and likely result in the creature retreating back underground. So, instead, he used the gun like a pointy stick, prodding at the monster to keep it angry. He and Kalistra kept close, dancing just out of its strike zone, irritating it, goading it.

    The tactic worked. Slowly, with small, sliding movements, the monster dragged itself further from the earth. Its abdomen however, still partially remained within its hole, and would continue to do so. They had discovered that no matter how much you wound these beasts up, you never could get them to completely leave their burrows. That was fine though, they did not need it to leave, only to get far enough out that another member of their team could make its move.

    When the moment came, Mickie¡¯s only warning was a glimmer of bronze, streaking down from the ceiling. The monster noticed it at the same moment he did, and as expected, reacted with speed that belied its size. Its abdomen, which had appeared fleshy and vulnerable up until this point, bunched up, and started dragging the beast back towards its hole. Fast, but not fast enough.

    Right before the monster entered the earth, something slammed into it. A birdlike creature, large, though not as large as the spider monster, its body was covered in bronze feathers. The avian¡¯s taloned hind legs gripped its opponent¡¯s abdomen, digging through the soft shell and into the meat beyond. Its wings folded in, and sharp claws, which emerged from an elbow joint, grasped a limb to either side of the monster¡¯s body.

    Pinned in such a manner, the oversized spider could not strike back at Ziz. It could, however, still drag itself back underground. Even as more of the abdomen disappeared, the primordial atop the beast¡¯s back raised its long, sinuous neck, and struck down. Once, twice, three times before the creature got dangerously close to its burrow.

    Ziz launched upwards as the monster retreated into the dark. As the avian did so, it reached out with a talon and grabbed its prey about the head. There was a moment of tension, in which Ziz wrestled with the beast. Wings pounding the air, tail whipping behind it. Seven spindly legs clawed at the earth, trying to dig in, desperate to get to safety.

    Then with a crunch and a wet tear, the spider''s head, weakened from Ziz¡¯s prior blows, was torn free. The primordial burst upwards, cawing out its victory. The sound echoed through the large cave alongside the death throes of the monster. As the beast stilled, Mickie let out a slow breath. The primordial¡¯s strike had only taken a handful of seconds, but the risk involved still left him tense. Too slow and Ziz would be dragged beneath the ground, and squished against rough stone in their target¡¯s liar.

    His worries had been proved unfounded yet again. So far, whenever they had used this strategy, Ziz had gotten the timing utterly perfect. Perhaps it was the young primordial¡¯s prior lives shining through, eons of experience soaked deep into its bones. Whatever the case, the monster was dead, and the rocky floor of the cave had fallen silent.

    ¡®That was quite the nest.¡¯

    Kalistra muttered, her various strands of serpentine hair twisting to take in their battleground. It was littered with cracked limbs and dark holes, all now vacant of life.

    ¡®Yep.¡¯

    Mickie replied, wandering to a nearby gap in the stone.

    ¡®Seems they¡¯ve been growing bigger the further we go.¡¯

    He peered into the dark, looking at what remained of the monster within. Mickie had coined them hermit spiders, and the name had stuck. Large, ambush predators, they lay dormant in their burrows beneath the rock, coming alive when prey neared. Somehow, they were able to sense movement near perfectly above ground, even when their many eyes were hidden from view. Mickie suspected it had something to do with the hairs on their abdomen. He also suspected they were venomous, but no one in their group was willing to receive a bite and test that theory.

    Like the crabs after which they were named, these overly large spiders could use their extended rears to dart in and out of their homes. However, unlike the small and rather cute sea critters, these monsters tended to nest in a single spot. They camped out in points where large caves branched into smaller tunnels, waiting for prey to stumble across their feeding grounds. It meant that the name was a bit misleading, but it was too late to go back now.

    From above there came a long squawk, and Ziz landed in a cloud of dust. The bird began ripping into its prize with gusto, pulling out and swallowing the multifaceted eyes like seeds from a pomegranate.

    ¡®Nice work bud.¡¯

    Mickie called to the big bird.

    ¡®Hermit spider is good.¡¯

    Ziz replied, rippling the air to speak without so much as slowing in its meal. Kalistra sighed, a few strands of hair observing the scene.

    ¡®Slow down, you¡¯re getting slime in your feathers.¡¯

    ¡®Mmm, no need, Kali will clean for me.¡¯

    The big bird said, as if it were the most obvious thing ever. It did pause momentarily though, swallowing an eye before turning to them.

    ¡®Also, I saw it again.¡¯

    Mickie, who had been examining the carnage of their fight, shifted his attention to Ziz in an instant.

    ¡®Where?¡¯

    ¡®Hiding in rocks, near another tunnel. I tried to catch, but it ran away.¡¯

    The branded man sucked his teeth and gazed out across the large cavern. His reward for stepping into the sixth circle had been a new power, one that felt different from those which had come before. Unlike his weapons, clothing, and amulet, the change to his eyes was not something Mickie felt more visceral. Their colour had permanently shifted from hazel to gold, and glowed somewhat in the dark.

    A concerning change, though not one without its own benefits. He could see things more keenly now, the darkness of the Labyrinth unable to veil things from him entirely. It was not quite at the level of the gemstone eyes; he still needed some light to function. Yet, the ability had helped them substantially during their time wandering the tunnels.

    Mickie put his new eyes to work at that very moment, scanning the large cavern for any signs of their stealthy follower. The space was filled with its own biodiverse ecosystem, a fungal forest with mushrooms as large as trees. Spots on these broad headed shrooms glowed with a soft green light. It was hardly more than a dull fluorescence, yet that was all Mickie needed.

    He saw no movement beyond the cave¡¯s smaller inhabitants. Improved his eyes might be, they were still not capable of picking out a needle in a haystack. The branded man growled in frustration.

    ¡®Damned machine.¡¯

    ¡®It would be good to know why it is so interesting to us.¡¯

    Kalistra said, her attention split between Ziz¡¯s messy meal and the larger cavern. Unlike the mortal and the avian, she did not need to turn her head to regard both directions. Having created links to her serpentine hair, Kalistra quite literally had eyes in the back of her head.

    ¡®It¡¯d be good to know anything about it at all.¡¯

    Mickie responded bitterly. He was not a big fan of machines, especially the kind that were capable of creative thinking. Being strapped to a table for dissection tended to have that effect on someone. Kalistra turned fully in his direction. This close, Mickie could see clearly into her empty eye sockets.

    ¡®We know what it looks like, and that it is wary of us.¡¯

    ¡®I suppose, but how did it manage to get a hold of those gemstone eyes?¡¯

    ¡®I imagine it took them from their previous owner.¡¯

    The gorgon replied dryly, referring to the giant machine whose dead shell they had left on the seventh circle. Kalistra had told him how Belphegor ripped the construct¡¯s core out, tossing it into the blood lake.

    Mickie¡¯s own sister had created that hunk of steel death, commanding it to protect him from harm. Given how the machine had first chased them through a collapsing stone pillar, then tackled him down a staircase, the branded man held a healthy dose of scepticism for that claim.

    Whatever the truth was behind the robot, Mickie could not help but feel glad it was gone. Only now something new had come along, something which had the same gemstone eyes but was far smaller in size. Ziz had spotted it skulking about not long after their arrival in the sixth circle.

    It was shaped like a lizard, though one the size of a small dog and with six legs. Every attempt they had made to get close to it had ended in failure. The machine was small, fast, and extraordinarily good at hiding within the rocky tunnels. As their little follower had done nothing more than watch from a distance, the others seemed happy to leave it be. Mickie though, he would love to get his hands on the slippery bugger.

    ¡®Should we rest here or move on?¡¯

    Kalistra had seemingly gotten tired of watching him glare into the dark, and turned her attention to the nearby exit. A small tunnel that disappeared deeper into the sixth circle, same as so many others they had travelled through since arriving.

    ¡®Hmm.¡¯

    Mickie ripped his eyes away from the fungal forest. He glanced about at the remains of their fight.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡®I can¡¯t say I¡¯m all that eager to take a nap surrounded by hermit spiders, even if they¡¯re dead.¡¯

    The gorgon nodded in agreement.

    ¡®Then let¡¯s move a little deeper. Perhaps there will be a good spot down this passage.¡¯

    She turned and called to Ziz. The big bird tore one final eye from its prize, swallowing before it stomped reluctantly over to them.

    ¡®Ah, look at the mess you have made, naughty child!¡¯

    The primordial puffed up, looking offended at the scolding.

    ¡®I won the fight. I deserve a snack.¡¯

    ¡®Hmm, maybe next time then, Mickie and I will handle all the spiders. You can go hungry.¡¯

    Ziz squawked in alarm.

    ¡®No! I like to swoop.¡¯

    ¡®Then perhaps you should listen when I ask you to eat properly.¡¯

    Kalistra finished, seeming satisfied that she had gotten one over on her young partner. Mickie was unsure how there was any proper way to tear the eyes from the dead hermit spider, but he kept silent. At least he did until a sulky Ziz bumped into him, getting insect goop all over his arm.

    ¡®Mik¡­ you will not leave me out?¡¯

    ¡®Ugh, yeah, sure.¡¯¡¯

    Mickie pushed the big bird¡¯s head away with a hand and received a heaving coating of slime for his efforts.

    ¡®Mickie says I can. Mag will say so too.¡¯

    The branded man had to agree, if Miz-Mag had not been resting at that moment, the little fiend would definitely be egging Ziz on. Their resident primordial was getting better at speaking, vibrating the air to produce longer and more complex sentences. For all that the past few weeks had matured Ziz however, the avian was still young, and acted as such.

    ¡®I am unsure whether Miz-Mag¡¯s opinion is worth consideration in this matter.¡¯

    Kalistra grumbled but gave up the point. She was often uncertain when it came to dealing with her rebellious partner. Mickie supposed that was unsurprising, seeing how reverent she had initially been towards the primordial¡¯s last incarnation. Having to discipline a being out of legend like they were a naughty child was likely disconcerting.

    ¡®I agree, but Miz-Mag tends to give its opinion whether you want it or not.¡¯

    Mickie flicked the viscera from his hand with a grimace, wiping what remained on his jeans. He started towards the tunnel that the hermit spiders had been guarding. Ziz and Kalistra trailed behind, the gorgon still attempting to scold the primordial.

    The dim light of the fungal cavern dimmed as the group stepped into the connecting passage. Although there was still enough for Mickie to see by, he pulled out his trusty orb lamp. First obtained from the eternally youthful urchins in the eighth circle, the ball-like lighting device had come in handy within this circle.

    As white light filled the more cramped passage, something glinted in the darkness. A length of black, partially reflective steel protruded from the stone. The very object that caused the group to pick the one tunnel guarded by oversized arachnids.

    Mickie wandered over to the material, so very similar to the stuff from which the desert tower was built. It had a slight outward facing curvature to it, like part of a massive pipe. He knocked against the steel with a knuckle and listened to the resulting sound.

    ¡®See. I told you I saw the old path.¡¯

    Ziz commented as it stomped up behind him. From beside the avian there came a long-suffering sigh.

    ¡®We do not know if this actually has anything to do with the old paths, remember?¡¯

    Kalistra said, and her partner grumbled.

    ¡®Notice something?¡¯

    She asked Mickie, having noted the mortal¡¯s experiment.

    ¡®Just had a thought that it might be a pipe. That there¡¯d be a hollow echo from tapping it.¡¯

    He rapped his knuckles against the metal again. There came a clang, but no reverberation.

    ¡®No luck though.¡¯

    When their little group had first arrived in the sixth circle, they had found out it was not called the Labyrinth for nothing. A seemingly endless network of interconnecting tunnels and caverns, diverse as they were numerous. They had found a new way into the circle, and had hoped that the tower would connect to some long-forgotten path.

    Instead, they had only found these strange sections of steel, occasionally protruding from the rock like the bones of some old giant. So, with no other options available, they had started to follow the metal breadcrumbs. That had to have been a few weeks ago, by Mickie¡¯s estimation.

    ¡®An interesting idea.¡¯

    Kalistra said, interrupting Mickie¡¯s train of thought. She stepped up beside the branded man and placed her fingers upon the shiny black surface.

    ¡®If it were a pipe however, it¡¯s diameter would have to be quite large.¡¯

    The gorgon tapped the metal rhythmically.

    ¡®Not only that, but the metal would need to be rather thick. Thick enough that it would likely take more than a soft tap to echo back.¡¯

    Mickie nodded slowly.

    ¡®That¡¯s fine, I suppose. It doesn¡¯t really¡­¡¯

    Something blurred by his face, kicking up a breeze that ruffled his hair. Mickie jumped, stumbling back as Ziz¡¯s tail made contact with the metal. It had used the appendage like a whip, slamming it into the steel with an almighty crash. Following the initial clamour, there came a long, echoing thrum. Like the ringing of a distant bell it reverberated for a time, before fading away.

    ¡®I have made the noise for you.¡¯

    Ziz declared smugly. Kalistra took a slow breath, her hair a mess of startled serpents.

    ¡®That you did. A little warning would have been nice though.¡¯

    ¡®Did you hear that? I think it echoed.¡¯

    Mickie said.

    ¡®Yes, I believe it did. So, we know now, at the very least, that there is a hollow space beyond the metal.¡¯

    The gorgon replied. It was an interesting bit of information, but the branded man was unsure how it would serve any practicable use. In the end, these sections of steel were more a guide, a path they could follow to something hopefully more substantial. It did not matter what they truly were. At least, that was what Mickie told himself as he turned to keep walking.

    As if to prove him wrong however, a low thrum shuddered through the stone. He felt it on the bare soles of his feet, a vibration like the prelude to an earthquake. Then came the sound, a deep base boom that rolled from somewhere distant. There was a pause, a moment in which it echoed through the hollow length of steel.

    Boom.

    It came again. Boom. Again. Boom. Boom. Boom. Like the footfalls of a giant, regular and rhythmic. Mickie realised, perhaps a little belatedly, that something must have heard Ziz strike the metal. Something large, that was apparently on its way to investigate.

    ¡®Hey! we need to move.¡¯

    He called his companions. Kalistra shook herself, and nodded, calling to Ziz. The primordial came reluctantly. They ran through the tunnel, pursued by the rhythmic sound. Was it getting louder? Mickie thought it might be, but it was difficult to tell.

    When the sounds abruptly ceased, they had covered quite a distance. Mickie came to a panting halt, as did Kalistra, the pair catching their breath as the thunderous echoes oscillated into silence.

    They had reached an intersection, the tunnel in which they walked branching off to the left and down on the right. Normally at such a point, the group would investigate both paths, and stick with the one in which they could find a section of revealed metal. Only, the fading sound was not omnipresent. Before the echo was gone, Mickie made his way over to the left passage. There he pressed his hand against the tunnel wall, and felt the rock quivering beneath his fingers.

    ¡®That.¡¯

    Kalistra said, straightened as her breathing slowed.

    ¡®Was rather ominous.¡¯

    ¡®What was it?¡¯

    Ziz asked, head extended and alert.

    ¡®I am unsure. Whatever it was though, it was large.¡¯

    The gorgon muttered, placing a hand on her partner¡¯s long neck.

    ¡®Sure was.¡¯ Mickie said. ¡®And at a guess, it¡¯s probably behind the metal, in the pipe itself.¡¯

    ¡®It is strange we have not heard it before.¡¯

    Kalistra commented, and Ziz made a disgruntled chirp.

    ¡®Maybe it was sleeping? I am angry when I get woken up early.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t we know it.¡¯

    Mickie grunted, and let his hand drop from the stone wall.

    ¡®Well, at least we got something out of it.¡¯

    Kalistra nodded, having noticed the same thing he had. Ziz, on the other hand, seemed confused.

    ¡®We did?¡¯

    ¡®Yep, if that sound was coming from the pipe, then we can follow it.¡¯ Mickie nodded up the tunnel to the left. ¡®Save ourselves a bit of time.¡¯

    The trio continued up this new passage, and before too long stumbled upon another section of uncovered metal. Mickie was glad he had been correct in picking this path, but fatigue swiftly drowned out any satisfaction. He needed a rest, as did the others. They could camp out in the tunnel itself, except creatures tended to wander these twisted passages. Monsters just as bad as any hermit spider.

    It was a large relief then, when not long after their discovery of the steel, the trio stumbled into a larger cave. It was not the stadium sized expanse that the fungal cavern had been, but a smaller space. The air smelled strange within, like a mixture of cinnamon and ozone. Strong, but not entirely unpleasant. The source of scent was clear, an expanse of flowers, glowing blue and ethereal.

    They were stout things, with thick stems and broad petals. At their centre, where the pollen might be on a normal flower, was a bubble of strange blue and silver liquid. It was the source of the light, the colours within shifting and swirling like oil and water, never overtly mixing. The result was a shifting pattern on the cavern roof, ripples like a pond in the rain.

    ¡®By all the nine circles.¡¯

    Kalistra breathed, standing beside Mickie at the field¡¯s edge.

    ¡®What is this?¡¯

    She squatted down, mesmerised, and slowly reached towards one of the flowers. Mickie caught her hand before she could make contact.

    ¡®This is something new. Remember the rules?¡¯

    Mickie said. Kalistra started, a wave moving through her serpentine hair.

    ¡®I¡­ yeah.¡¯

    The scales coating her forearm and hand pressed against his palm, and the feeling of them lingered for a time after he let her go.

    ¡®Sorry, I got distracted.¡¯

    She straightened.

    ¡®They are beautiful.¡¯ Mickie noted. ¡®Which is what worries me.¡¯

    The branded man had quickly learnt upon arriving in Hell, that almost everything either wanted you dead or in an unhealthy amount of pain. Nothing quite epitomized that like the sixth circle. The expanse of interconnected caverns was bursting with things that could kill you.

    To counter this, their group had developed a system. A series of tests which they conducted whenever they encounter something new, no matter how innocent it might seem. For all they knew, the glowing flowers could be toxic or work to cover traces of something more sinister.

    So, they got to work. Mickie called forth his black sword, ignoring the way it seemed to whisper in the back of his mind. He used it to very slowly, and very carefully, poke at one of the flowers. He tapped the petals and stem, receiving no reaction. Next came the bubble of liquid light at the plant¡¯s centre. Surprisingly, the weak looking bead survived the sharp edge of his blade, dimpling but not bursting under contact.

    Next up they cut one of the flowers free, and had Kalistra turn it to stone. Then the group prodded, stabbed, blasted, and cajoled the room full of flowers. Anything they could think of to elicit some form of reaction, they did. Yet the cave remained placid.

    In the end, Mickie was forced to conclude that nothing was outwardly dangerous. They had damaged a decent number, and the only thing of note was what happened to the bead of liquid. The light within would fade over time, slowly, but enough that it was noticeable. If the bubble itself was burst however, the liquid would go dark within seconds, spilling inert onto the stones.

    ¡®Alright. I think we¡¯re in the clear.¡¯

    Mickie said.

    ¡®Yes, I suppose we are.¡¯

    Kalistra replied, mourning the mound of dead flowers they had created. Ziz perked up at the news, however.

    ¡®About time.¡¯

    The primordial leapt into the field of flowers and began jumping about enthusiastically.

    ¡®Ziz, be careful! You are damaging the flowers!¡¯

    Kalistra hurried into the cave, hands outstretched to calm her partner. Mickie trailed behind, looking about for a suitable space where they could rest. There was only one exit beyond their own, another tunnel, almost on the opposite side to theirs. Strangely, the flowers at that end did not stretch to the tunnel mouth, as they did at the other. Instead, they stopped in a broad semicircle about the exit, as if wary of getting too close.

    The sight made Mickie uneasy. It was a seemingly harmless bit of behaviour, yet who knew if it meant something deeper. Although beyond pointing it out to Kalistra and Ziz, there was little he could do. The group decided to make camp upon a broad, flat stone that rose just above the layer of blue petals. Tired as he was, Mickie still volunteered to take the first watch. Unless Miz-Mag made a return soon, it would just be him and Kalistra taking shifts. They had tried to get Ziz involved, but the big bird did not take well to being woken before it was ready. Instead, they had relegated it to a glorified pillow, soft feathers proving far more comfortable than hard stone.

    As they settled into rest, Mickie gradually let his tension ease. A slow thirty minutes or so passed, with little happening. Then, out of nowhere, there came a distant boom. Like thunder in the distance, vibrating the stone upon which Mickie sat. The branded man started, glancing about the cavern as the flowers rustled.

    What remained of the noise seemed to echo somewhere up above, no doubt travelling through the metal hidden nearby. It put his teeth on edge, but did not sound as if it had come from nearby. Whatever set the sound¡¯s source off had not been them, even if Ziz was right, and they had been the ones to initially awaken it.

    There came a rustle from nearby, and a head poked out from a mound of feathers. Kalistra appeared as startled as he was, the serpents atop her head swaying as they observed her surroundings. Carefully, the gorgon extricated herself from Ziz, the snoring primordial not having so much as twitched at the sound.

    ¡®Did that wake you up?¡¯

    Mickie asked softly as she came to sit beside him on the rock.

    ¡®No, I was struggling to sleep anyway. That noise did ruin any chance I might have had though.¡¯

    The gorgon sighed, rubbing her face with two scaly hands.

    ¡®Do you think it¡¯s the same thing as before?¡¯ She asked.

    ¡®I do.¡¯ Mickie answered, turning back to the field of flowers. ¡®I heard the sound echo through the pipes.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, the very pipes that we are following.¡¯

    Kalistra sighed, and Mickie gave her a tired smile.

    ¡®If it¡¯s any comfort, that was definitely further away than when we last heard it.¡¯

    ¡®I suppose that is good news, though I would have preferred not to have heard anything at all.¡¯

    They fell quiet for a time, breathing in the subtly metallic scent and watching light play across the rocky ceiling.

    ¡®I saw you take a blow while we were fighting the hermit spiders.¡¯ Kalistra eventually said. ¡®How are you recovering?¡¯

    Mickie winced. ¡®Yeah, I did get clipped at one stage. It was nothing serious though.¡¯

    Ever since he had overworked his healing power whilst fighting Belphegor, it had not been performing as it once had. Originally, the branded man had hoped the power would repair itself upon ascending to the sixth circle, and it had, though only partially.

    When he examined the ethereal channels of his power, they were still damaged. Not only that, but they appeared to not be healing in quite the same way as before. Like a bone that was incorrectly set, the recovery was wrong, pathways warped and misaligned, broader at points where they had once been lean. The result was that Mickie healed, but far slower than before.

    ¡®You¡¯re worried about your eyes?¡¯

    He asked Kalistra. The gorgon sighed, putting a hand to her face, covering her empty sockets.

    ¡®Am I really so transparent?¡¯

    ¡®I get it.¡¯ Mickie said. ¡®You¡¯re worried that what happened to me is going to happen to you.¡¯

    Kalistra nodded.

    ¡®I know that I can still see, that I am not truly blind. I should not be so fixated upon their return. And yet¡­¡¯

    She gestured at the glowing field of flowers.

    ¡®Then I see a place like this, something worth seeing.¡¯

    Kalistra chuckled.

    ¡®I always thought my eyes were a burden, that I would be better off without them. Now look at me.¡¯

    ¡®There¡¯s nothing wrong with wanting them back.¡¯ Mickie said. ¡®I mean, you just got control over the whole petrifying sight thing.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, the control. What a feeling it was.¡¯

    She sounded almost wistful.

    ¡®Don¡¯t give up hope.¡¯ Mickie said ¡®Your injury and mine, they aren¡¯t the same. I think there¡¯s a decent chance you''ll heal.¡¯

    ¡®How so?¡¯

    ¡®Well, I didn¡¯t physically injure myself. Instead, I broke something that comes from the bond itself. One of my powers. Figures that it might heal a little different than a normal injury.¡¯

    Mickie ran his fingers across his brand, feeling the shape of the animals circling, and the now four symbols within their perimeter. Beside him Kalistra nodded hesitantly.

    ¡®In a way, I think that makes sense.¡¯ She sighed. ¡®I do wish we knew for sure though. These soul bonds we have, there are just so many things we do not know about them. It worries me at times.¡¯

    Mickie nodded in agreement, but Kalistra was not done.

    ¡®Miz-Mag, for example, do you ever wonder where it goes?¡¯

    ¡®How do you mean?¡¯ He asked, frowning.

    ¡®When it disappears. I have been thinking on it for some time, and I cannot come up with a suitable answer.¡¯

    Mickie had long ago come to accept his partner¡¯s disappearances, though when he had first arrived in Hell, he had questioned the tiny fiend on it.

    ¡®I suppose I don¡¯t think about it much anymore. To be honest, I¡¯m pretty certain not even Mag knows. All I ever got from it were vague claims about needing to rest.¡¯

    He hummed, thinking on it.

    ¡®Couldn¡¯t it just be that? I mean, doesn¡¯t everyone¡¯s sense of themselves fade away when they go to sleep? It¡¯s not so surprising that Mag doesn¡¯t remember anything.¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps. Though that fails to explain why the disappearance is enforced. If it were truly a means of rest, then it should only happen when Miz-Mag intends for it to.¡¯

    Kalistra said, and Mickie thought her reasoning was sound.

    ¡®What do you think it is then? If Mag is actually going somewhere, then surely it would remember something?¡¯

    He said, thinking of the strange visions he often had while resting. Visions that had been increasing in frequency ever since he arrived on the sixth circle.

    ¡®That is what confuses me.¡¯

    Kalistra muttered, folding her knees upwards before wrapping them in her arms.

    ¡®Even dreams leave a vague impression upon awakening. Yet Miz-Mag recalls nothing. I thought perhaps it was sinking into your bond itself, but you should be able to sense that.

    A few reptilian strands of hair peered Mickie¡¯s way.

    ¡®I¡¯ve never really noticed anything, but I¡¯m not exactly the best at feeling out all this soul bond stuff. Mag¡¯s the one who does that kind of thing.¡¯

    The branded man responded with a shrug. Kalistra sighed, clearly not satisfied, but knowing they were not going to land on a satisfactory answer. Even without having her eyes on him, Mickie felt the moment her attention shifted. A subtle change in the way her hair shifted about.

    ¡®And what of your eyes, the changes that your bond has made to them?¡¯

    She asked softly. Mickie had, for the most part, avoided talking about his newest ability. It was not something he enjoyed dwelling upon.

    ¡®I can¡¯t complain about the benefits, not with how much it¡¯s helped in the Labyrinth.¡¯

    ¡®And what it signifies?¡¯

    Kalistra asked, and in doing so cut to the quick of what worried him. That if the bond could change his eyes, then what might be next? Mickie was only in the sixth circle, there were another five through which he had to ascend.

    ¡®I¡­ there is nothing I can do about it.¡¯

    He said, intending to sound firm, but finding the words caught in his throat.

    ¡®And that does not worry you?¡¯

    Kalistra asked, turning her head to face him. Mickie could see every detail of the damage wrought upon her, painted in the shifting blue hues of the flowers. He intended to say it did not worry him, that he would be able to do what was required.

    ¡®Of course it does.¡¯

    The branded man muttered instead, surprised by the words even as he spoke them.

    ¡®You worry about what else it might change.¡¯

    ¡®I do.¡¯

    Again, he intended to stop there, and again, he found himself speaking.

    ¡®If my eyes can change, then what else might? Am I going to grow a pointed tail, or bat wings?¡¯

    They were thoughts that had been circulating ever since he stepped into this maze of tunnels and caverns.

    ¡®What if it goes further, what if¡­¡¯

    He recalled the fight against Belphegor, and the hollow thing he had become during it.

    ¡®What if it is my mind that the bond changes?¡¯

    He finished, the fear crystallizing as he gave it voice. Mickie might be a broken human, but he was human still. What if that changed? There was silence for a time, Kalistra taking a moment to process what he had said.

    Mickie did not look at the gorgon, strangely embarrassed and afraid what her reaction might be. He almost jumped when something pressed against his shoulder. Kalistra had shifted sideways, leaning gently against him.

    ¡®I do not believe the bond can change how you think, at least, not in a manner that is wholesale. Even if it changes your body, it cannot change your past, the memories and events that made you who you are.¡¯

    She spoke softly.

    ¡®And if I change anyway. If the bond shifts me enough that I forget who I am?¡¯

    Mickie asked, staring out across the field of blue flowers. Kalistra pondered for a time before answering.

    ¡®I lost myself. After years in the arena, with nothing but violence and darkness. It wore me down, changed me. I stopped feeling things as I used to. Stopped thinking about the reason I agreed to go with Illiath in the first place.¡¯

    The gorgon shifted, raising a hand to her forehead, where there had once been a mark imprinted in dark ink.

    ¡®You helped me free of that. Gave me a chance to remember who I was.¡¯

    Mickie smiled slightly.

    ¡®Hardly, all I did was break you lose.¡¯

    ¡®You saw more in me. When we were fighting. I know you did.¡¯

    Kalistra said, firm. The branded man felt her attention shifted entirely onto him.

    ¡®That moment, when I was about to die, I thought of my tribe. I realised how desperately I wanted to see them again. And you noticed it. I think it¡¯s why you looked me in the eyes.¡¯

    She stumbled over her words at the end, and Mickie was unsure how to respond. He was distinctly aware of the feeling of her arm against his. There was a brief pause before Kalistra continued.

    ¡®What I am trying to say is, that when I was lost, you helped me find myself. So, if what you fear comes to pass, and you lose yourself as I once did, then I shall help you as you helped me.¡¯

    Silence fell between them. Kalistra had spoken with such sincerity, that it left Mickie taken aback. They had agreed to travel together some time ago, but that had been a deal. This was something different, something new that left him with feelings which he could not articulate.

    ¡®Thank you.¡¯

    Was all he said instead, packing everything he could into those two words.

 38 - Purposefully Lost

    Mickie had dreamt that he was tired. Not in a physical sense, but a mental one. Tired of a life spent inflicting pain, and tired of the idea that he would spend eternity continuing to do so. He had felt on the edge of a realisation, an understanding that would lead to change. Then, with a gasp, he startled awake from the dream.

    ¡®Wake up, ya lazy brat.¡¯

    The branded man sat bolt upright, so fast that Miz-Mag was flung from its position by his head. The demon cursed as it sailed through the air, disappearing into the nearby flowers. Ziz shifted beneath Mickie as he turned about, finding the primordial blinky blearily and Kalistra hunched low near his head.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    He muttered, the impressions of the dream slowly fading.

    ¡®Something is out there.¡¯

    Kalistra hissed. Any remnants of sleep were shaken free in an instant as Mickie hurried forward.

    ¡®What? Where?¡¯

    She pointed, and the branded man followed his companion¡¯s finger to the cave¡¯s far exit, a spot that was devoid of flowers. He saw them immediately, a figure, standing brazenly out in the open.

    ¡®Human?¡¯

    Ziz mumbled sleepily, reaching the same conclusion as Mickie had. It did indeed appear to be a mortal, ragged and emaciated, but human still.

    ¡®Other people survive down here? How?¡¯

    He whispered. It should have been impossible for any normal mortal to travel the labyrinth. Even with their powers, Mickie¡¯s group had struggled at points.

    ¡®Not sure. Miz-Mag and I only just spotted them.¡¯ Kalistra replied.

    ¡®That we did, and look at the thanks I get.¡¯

    A voice came from the flowers beside their elevated stone camp. Miz-Mag leapt back into view, giving Mickie a dirty look. The fiend was about six inches tall, with straight black hair tucked behind pointed ears. It wore no clothes, which was not an issue, as Miz-Mag did not have the mortal bodily accessories that a human might.

    ¡®Maybe if you didn¡¯t jump me like a rat every time you wake me up, things would go better for you.¡¯

    Mickie said, and earned himself a rude gesture. Miz-Mag joined them in watching the mortal as they moved about the cavern. Their visitor was so gaunt that the branded man could not tell if they were male or female. The mortal¡¯s head was downturned, their features obscured by a nest of matted hair. Even with his improved eyes, all Mickie saw was greying flesh swathed in ragged cloth.

    ¡®Have they spotted us?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked, wandering over towards Ziz and proding the primordial with a foot. Ziz grumbled, but lowered its head, allowing the little fiend to clamber on board.

    ¡®I am unsure, we should be easy to notice, but they appear not to have even looked up since entering.¡¯

    It was true, the human seemed more interested in their own toes than the glowing cavern. As the group watched, they knelt down at the edge of the flower field, and unslung some form of backpack.

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked, leaning forward atop Ziz. Mickie squinted, but from this distance the object was just a lump of dark colour. He made a decision.

    ¡®How about we go ask?¡¯

    The branded man raised an eyebrow towards Kalistra, the gorgon hesitating only briefly before nodding. They stepped off the rock and into the flowers, Miz-Mag and Ziz following closely behind. A giant bird creature stomping its way through the cave was rather noisy, yet the mortal did not so much glance up as the group approached.

    Instead, the human reached out and plucked a flower near the edge of the field. Mickie frowned as the sturdy blossom disappeared into the dark bag. As he neared, he realised the object was not truly a backpack. Rather, it was some kind of machine, black and rounded with two straps attached.

    The mortal watched this device intently for what had to be a little over a minute. A panel eventually slid open on top, and the haggard human turned back to the field. They plucked yet another blue flower, turned, and placed it into the machine. The panel slid back into place over the top.

    This process repeated as the group made their way through the cave, with the attending mortal never once glancing up from its work. Mickie stopped with his companions a few meters away, wary of approaching.

    ¡®Hey, you there.¡¯

    He called. The words echoed off the stony walls, and faded to silence. Their quiet visitor did not so much as twitch.

    ¡®Weird. Should we just get bird brain to eat ¡®em?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked, and was almost thrown free of its perch as Ziz perked up.

    ¡®No.¡¯ Kalistra murmured, pensive. ¡®I think I know what this person is. Mickie, Maz-Mag, do you recall our time in the eighth circle? When we traveled alongside Sestus.¡¯

    ¡®Sure Kali. Don¡¯t know why that¡¯s relevant though.¡¯

    Miz-Mag said, leaning over the side of Ziz¡¯s head.

    ¡®Well.¡¯ The gorgon pointed towards the nearby human. ¡®I think that person is one of the lost.¡¯

    Mickie frowned. The lost. He remembered them, listless mortals whose purpose had been eroded by the march of time. Back in the eighth circle, Sestus had guided Mickie and his companions through a camp of them. This person certainly had a similar look, there was just one problem.

    ¡®I can see it, but I thought the lost were more¡­¡¯ The branded man paused, thinking of the right word.

    ¡®More like living corpses.¡¯ Miz-Mag finished for him. ¡®This chap is way too energetic.¡¯

    The machine clicked open beside the human, and they proceeded to load up another flower.

    ¡®I¡¯ll admit their current behaviour is odd, but everything else matches. The disregard for their surroundings, the lack of response to external stimuli, theri withered appearance. These are traits of the lost.¡¯

    Kalistra said. She sounded more sure of herself this time, and Mickie was inclined to agree. He was remembering another mortal he had seen like this, one that the Soul Lord had pushed into the abyss. Magareem¡¯s words echoed in Mickie¡¯s ears. That the lost tended to wander places where they should not.

    ¡®I suppose there¡¯s only one way to know for sure.¡¯

    The branded man started forward, with the others right on his heels. They approached the lost human, who still made no indication it even knew they existed. Mickie called forth his gun as he stepped up to the flowerless semicircle.

    Unable to conduct their usual tests upon the listless mortal, he settled for proding them with the steel barrel of his weapon. The human swayed with each poke, but its attention did not leave the machine sitting on the floor.

    ¡®Hey.¡¯ Mickie said. ¡®Anyone in there?¡¯

    Not so much as a weary sigh in response.

    ¡®The lost are usually more responsive than that.¡¯

    Kalistra mused, reaching a hand out to grasp the huddled mortal¡¯s chin. She tilted their face upwards, revealing hollow cheeks and dead eyes, just like those Mickie had seen in the eighth circle. The mortal¡¯s features were feminine, and made almost haughty by their gaunt cast. Kalistra released the woman, and her head slowly rotated back onto its prior position.

    ¡®Downright freaky.¡¯ Miz-Mag commented. ¡®What do you reckon it''s grabbing all the flowers for?¡¯

    ¡®I am unsure.¡¯ Kalistra replied, examining the vacant semicircle. ¡®But whatever the reason, it must have been going on for some time.¡¯

    Mickie understood what she was getting at. Every time the lost woman picked a flower, it was from the edge of the cleared area. That likely meant she had picked the space clean. Judging by how long it took her portable machine to process a single flower, that must have taken a while.

    They tried a few tests, seeing how the mortal reacted to changes in environment. If her machine was moved, she would rise, pick it back up, and place it back in its original spot. Mickie had thought she might have an aversion to entering the flower field. When they placed the device outside the bound of her semi-circle however, she did not hesitate to step outside and collect it.

    ¡®Welp, this has been interesting, but shouldn¡¯t we get moving?¡¯

    Miz-Mag said, watching lazily from atop Ziz as the primordial moved the machine from side to side. The young avian seemed to enjoy watching the lost woman meander along after it.

    ¡®We could, but it might be worth our time to wait.¡¯

    Kalistra responded, waving at her partner to put the device down.

    ¡®You think? I don¡¯t know if we¡¯ll get anything from this one, she seems pretty out of it.¡¯

    The little fiend¡¯s eyes tracked the gaunt human as she scooped up her released machine and turned to her original spot. Mickie gave a sulky Ziz a consoling pat as the gorgon replied.

    ¡®I agree, but she had to come from somewhere, and once she is done collecting flowers¡­¡¯

    ¡®She¡¯ll head back.¡¯ Miz-Mag finished, rubbing its chin. ¡®Who knows how long that will take though, she¡¯s already been at it for a while.¡¯

    ¡®I think it¡¯s a decent plan.¡¯ Mickie said. ¡®Even if she takes a while, it¡¯ll be worth seeing what all this is for.¡¯

    It did indeed take some time. Flower after flower disappeared into the device until finally, the processing machine gave a single, resounding chime. Instantly the gaunt woman rose to her feet. She scooped up the device by its straps, slipping it on her shoulders as one would do with a backpack.

    Then, without so much as a second glance at the glowing flower field, she turned and walked into the exit tunnel. Mickie and his companions were still registering the change in behaviour, and scrambled to keep up with the lost soul.

    They followed her into the darkness beyond the cave, and softer earth was swiftly replaced by hard stone. The lost human appeared unbothered by the lack of light, she walked as if by instinct, eyes on the ground ahead. Mickie fished out the orb lamp so his companions, at least, would be able to see where they were going.

    The lost followed a path through the tunnels that no one else could discern, turning without hesitation at every intersection. She was not particularly speedy, which left the others plenty of time to muse over their destination.

    ¡®Maybe she doesn¡¯t even know where she¡¯s going.¡¯

    Miz-Mag said. The little demon had moved from Ziz¡¯s head back to its traditional perch on Mickie¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡®It does feel like she knows where she¡¯s going though.¡¯ The branded man responded. ¡®Plus we¡¯re still passing sections of that hidden pipe. I think she might be heading to the same place we were.¡¯

    ¡®Maybe to the fifth circle?¡¯

    Ziz asked, perking up. The primordial was perhaps the most eager out of them all to be free of the labyrinth. It wanted a larger cavern with space to fly.

    ¡®I do not believe she will guide us that far. Though we could find a way to expedite the climb.¡¯

    Kalistra replied, her hand resting on the big bird¡¯s flank. Mickie opened his mouth to reply, but paused as he noticed something ahead.

    ¡®Hey Ziz, is it getting lighter up there?¡¯

    The primordial turned from Kalistra to regard the passage.

    ¡®Yes. It is blue, like before.¡¯

    ¡®Another flower field?¡¯ Miz-Mag mused, squinting in its attempt to see where they were being led.

    Their silent guide seemed unfazed by whatever it was, plodding straight towards the shimmering light. Following cautiously behind, the group soon found that it was indeed another cave filled with the glowing flowers. These however, were different, a cavern full of sealed buds instead of open blooms.

    These closed balls glowed a fainter blue than their mature counterparts, though still enough to fill the small space with shifting light. The lost woman walked a path that was free of any plant life, one which linked their entrance to another tunnel.

    ¡®Huh.¡¯ Miz-Mag muttered. ¡®Weird.¡¯

    Mickie had to agree. He did not have much time to ponder the differences however, as their guide was progressing fast along the worn path.

    ¡®I think this might have been another collection spot.¡¯

    Kalistra eventually murmured, her serpentine hair focused upon the primordial beside her. Too large for the narrow pathway, Ziz was forced to wander through the flowers, and was leaving a path of destruction in its wake. These smaller buds were not nearly as sturdy as their developed counterparts.

    ¡®But there are flowers here?¡¯

    The big bird said, swishing its tail and striking down a small population of flora.

    ¡®Careful.¡¯ Kalistra pleaded with a pained expression. ¡®Yes there are flowers, but they are young, fragile.¡¯

    She spoke the last word with emphasis. Mickie was certain that if the gorgon had eyes, they would be narrowed in Ziz¡¯s direction. Kalistra let the words hang a moment before continuing.

    ¡®I believe this chamber has already been picked clean, and then left alone to regrow. I am sure once enough of the flowers mature, they too will be harvested.¡¯

    The group followed the lost woman out of the cave and back into the tunnels. After a time the novelty began to wear off, and the plodding pace of their guide induced boredom. Ziz and Miz-Mag soon reverted to a favourite pastime of theirs.

    ¡®Maybe he just got lost. You know, took a wrong turn and spent a hundred years wandering about.¡¯

    The little demon said, and Ziz hummed in thought.

    ¡®Surely Mickie would remember then. Mickie, do you remember being lost?¡¯

    The branded man released a long suffering sigh.

    ¡®No I do not recall anything between getting shot in the head and arriving in Hell.¡¯

    ¡®That is not good. Very forgetful of you.¡¯

    The primordial chided, and Miz-Mag gave a low chuckle.

    ¡®Yeah kid. I¡¯ve been ¡®round for a century or so, and I haven¡¯t forgotten a thing.¡¯

    The culmination of their time in the seventh circle had come with a number of surprises. One of which was the discovery that Belphegor¡¯s second in command was Mickie¡¯s sister, Lucia. She claimed that he had died over a century ago, something the mortal man still struggled to believe.

    There were other things too. Things about his sister which Mickie did not want to dwell on. The feeling of cold steel pressed to the back of his head. Deep within him, something stirred at the unwanted recollection, something black and bubbling.

    ¡®I do not believe it possible for a mortal to get lost on the path to Hell. The gates themselves act as a siphon for the dead of the earth, drawing their souls to limbo.¡¯ Kalistra chimed in. It was rare for her to contribute to these discussions, the gorgon did not enjoy speculation for its own sake.

    ¡®Oh? And how then, would you explain our mortal friend here?¡¯

    Miz-Mag snarked. Mickie focused on the conversation, pushing the thoughts of his sister from his mind.

    ¡®I am unsure. Whatever the case however, it should not be possible for a soul to slip the pull of the gates. At least, not of their own volition.¡¯

    ¡®So you¡¯re saying someone dragged him away from the gates of Hell?¡¯

    The little fiend sounded skeptical, but Mickie was almost certain that it was an act. Miz-Mag had been trying to get Kalistra¡¯s opinion on the matter of his death for some time now.

    ¡®I am not saying that. All I am saying is that he cannot have simply gotten lost on his way to Hell.¡¯

    Kalistra said, sounding irritated. It looked as if Miz-Mag was going to push her further, but before the fiend could speak, they were interrupted. The ground trembled, and somewhere up above, a deep, groaning rumble echoed. They all paused mid-step, glancing at one another in concern. It was not the first time they had heard the sound, but it was the loudest since Ziz slammed the steel wall.

    Their guide appeared completely unaffected by the noise however, not so much as stumbling with the shivering earth. While concerned, there was little Mickie and his companions could do. They continued after the lost woman, though this time maintaining a wary silence. The threat implied by that distant noise had doused any enthusiasm for idle conversation.

    After what felt like an age of stomping slowly through the dark, the group came across another human in ragged clothing. Gaunt and as unresponsive as the first, this mortal was heading in the opposite direction to their own guide. They also had a flower processing machine hanging from their shoulders. To Mickie it almost seemed like a change in shift, with one person heading in while another set out to take their place.

    The unnerved group decided to stick with their original lost, and soon started seeing changes in the tunnel around them. Sections of black steel, once so infrequent and small, began to overtake large portions of the tunnel.

    When the floor of their passage changed from stone to steel, the group knew they had reached their destination. Fluorescent lights illuminated what appeared to be something out of an underground bunker. A gleaming hallway, broad and tall as the tunnel from which they had come, painted in hues of dull blue and grey.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    It felt uncanny to so abruptly step out of the dusty tunnels to which Mickie had grown so accustomed. As he followed their guide down the new passage, the branded man marvelled at how clean everything seemed. The walls, floor and ceiling gleamed like they had been recently polished. It seemed impossible, had to be impossible. He could see dirty footprints marking the clean steel where their guide stepped. The grime left behind by Mickie and his companions was even worse. The Labyrinth was not a tidy place, and opportunities to wash had been few and far between.

    The mystery of the tunnel''s cleanliness was soon answered however, as they passed a ragged mortal upon a stepladder. Another one of the lost, though unlike the others they had seen, this one was not collecting flowers. Instead, they had an array of equipment one would expect from a janitor, and were scrubbing hard at one of the walls. As far as Mickie could see, there was no dirt to clean.

    ¡®That, does not, look normal.¡¯

    Miz-Mag said slowly, finally breaking the spell of silence that had fallen upon them.

    ¡®Yeah, first we found one of them collecting flowers, and now this¡­¡¯

    Mickie muttered, watching as the janitor finished with a section of wall. The lost mortal got off their ladder, and shifted it down the hall, only to begin cleaning another spotless section.

    ¡®They¡¯re like machines or something.¡¯

    The branded man mused as they hurried to keep up with their guide.

    ¡®It is curious.¡¯

    Kalistra replied.

    ¡®I wonder what has managed to incentivise them to work like this? As far as I am aware, the lost desire nothing.¡¯

    They passed another janitor further down the hall. This one was scrubbing the floors rather than the walls, and Mickie felt a little guilty as they walked right over the mortal¡¯s work. Their flower gathering friend however, paid characteristically little heed to the other lost.

    When the group finally reached the tunnel¡¯s terminus, they almost lost their flower collecting guide. Mickie stepped into an open cavern, though one unlike any other they had seen so far. Instead of craggy stone, every surface of the domed space gleamed with shining steel. Massive lights hung from the curved ceiling, bathing everything in a warm glow.

    Beneath these artificial suns was a sprawling, strange city. Perfectly identical buildings of dark metal that blended seamlessly with straight streets. Four stories tall, these tenancies stretched on either side of the avenue, broken only by the occasional splash of greenery.

    Most strange of all however, was the lost. They were everywhere, cleaning, walking the streets, maintaining green spaces and even standing around idle. Everything they did seemed done with intent. Even those who stood stationary did so like it was their job, perfectly still, with feet planted and head bowed.

    ¡®By the blood.¡¯

    Miz-Mag muttered, then gave a squeak of alarm.

    ¡®Kid, the girl, she¡¯s getting away!¡¯

    They all turned to find their guide disappearing into the throng, rapidly becoming another face in a sea of gaunt features. Ziz squawked beside Kalistra, and leapt into the air. With a couple powerful beats of its wings, the primordial landed upon the roof of a nearby building.

    ¡®I see her.¡¯ It called down to them. ¡®You all follow what I say.¡¯

    They started into the city, Ziz creeping along rooftops and calling out directions until they closed upon their guide. As Mickie jogged forward he was struck by how eerie the city sounded. The only noise the lost made was the padding of feet on steel and the rustle of fabric against skin. While hardly more than a whisper individually, those sounds added up to a strange rhythmic churn, like the drone from a hive of ghosts.

    The trio caught back up to their guide, and resumed trailing her at the lost¡¯s more sedate pace. Finally obtaining access to a space in which it could stretch its wings, Ziz took off into the open air above the city. The primordial would scout ahead, and knew to return if it saw anything too alarming.

    In the tunnels, the lost¡¯s plodding steps had been frustrating. Now they were in the city however, Mickie found it provided him with just enough time to examine their surroundings. Something began to irk him as he wandered past yet another carefully tended green space. It was not the plants themselves, they were common enough varieties he had seen elsewhere in the sixth circle.

    The garden had a single pathway leading into it, with a single bench upon which a single lost sat, rigid as stone. Just like there had been in every garden prior to this, in the same way the building next door was identical to the previous. Mickie frowned, he already knew the structures were identical, that was not the issue. He glanced at a fern as he walked by, about a meter tall with eight broad leaves extending out in a spiral up the stem.

    When they passed the next green space, he glanced inside. The same, simple path. The same park bench, occupied by a gaunt figure in rags. Then the fern, about a meter tall with eight broad leaves extending out in a spiral up the stem.

    ¡®Even the plants¡­¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked, turning from its own examination of a nearby building. Mickie walked slowly away from the greenspace.

    ¡®Even the plants are identical.¡¯

    Buildings, he could understand, layout too. But nature was not so easy to control or predict. The volume of work required to have two plants appear identical like that.

    ¡®It¡¯s creepy alright.¡¯

    Miz-Mag said, casting a look back at the tidy square of greenery.

    ¡®It¡¯s also unreasonable. Why would anyone bother keeping something that perfect?¡¯

    Mickie responded. Before they could get any further however, there was a loud thud and rush of air as Ziz landed on a nearby rooftop. They all turned to the primordial, if it had returned this quickly, then there was likely news.

    ¡®Everything looks the same.¡¯ It said, the projected words echoing over the sounds of the lost. ¡®Everything except one part. Also there is a big hole.¡¯

    Kalistra was a little ways ahead of Mickie, keeping a close eye on their flower collecting guide. Even from a distance though, the branded man could see her exasperated sigh.

    ¡®A big hole? Remember what we said about details?¡¯

    As Ziz grumbled at the reprimand, Mickie hurried to catch up with his companion.

    ¡®I remember.¡¯ The primordial said. ¡®But what else can I say? It is a big hole.¡¯

    ¡®Where is it? How big is it?¡¯

    Miz-Mag suggested from its partner¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡®In the middle of the city, and it is big.¡¯

    For all that Ziz was an impressive scout, it was often difficult to get the big bird to provide useful information. Kalistra rubbed her forehead, hair twisting in agitation.

    ¡®Alright. Go take another look.¡¯ To Mickie, she said. ¡®Lend a hand?¡¯

    The branded man nodded, reaching out to take hold of the gorgon¡¯s elbow. Kalistra preferred to have Ziz do the scouting personally, but in the more important occasions they had come up with another system. The gorgon would connect her vision to her partner¡¯s, taking most of her focus away from her body.

    She could still function when doing so, but had a tendency to lose focus. After one too many trips, Mickie had taken to guiding her actual body if movement was required. With the speed at which the lost walked, it was more than enough to keep up. Ziz took to the air again, and it was not long before Kalistra gave a contemplative hum.

    ¡®Well, I suppose I cannot be too angry, it is indeed a large hole. I think it might be the pipe we have been seeing, this must be where it opens up to the Labirynth.¡¯

    Kalistra paused for a moment, her hair stirring.

    ¡®Actually, we appear to be heading right for it.¡¯

    The gorgon pointed ahead of them, where the rows of identical buildings ended abruptly.

    ¡®Figures.¡¯ He muttered. ¡®You see anything inside? Any sign of whatever keeps making all that noise?¡¯

    ¡®No, but I can see the bottom. It veers off in a few directions and there are traces of something inside.¡¯

    ¡®Can you tell what?¡¯ He asked.

    ¡®Maybe¡­¡¯ Kalistra hesitated. ¡®Ah, Ziz has moved away.¡¯

    In the distance, Mickie could see it. The big bird twisted in the air and flapped upwards, heading further from them. Kalistra suddenly missed a step. As he had been watching for just this kind of thing, the branded man kept the gorgon steady as she righted herself.

    ¡®By the blood, that has to be the strangest¡­¡¯ She hardly seemed to notice the near fall, murmuring quietly under her breath. ¡®This must be the section Ziz said was different.¡¯

    ¡®Well, don¡¯t leave us out to dry. What do you see?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked after an extended stretch of silence. Before answering, Kalistra came back to herself. Rigid movements became fluid and a ripple passed through her serpentine hair. Mickie released her arm, curious as his partner was.

    ¡®There is a section of the city that differs from the rest. It looks like it is partially in ruins, yet at the same time, it is still recognisable.¡¯

    Kalistra eventually said, her attention fixed on the far distance.

    ¡®You been taking notes from bird brain or something? Give us some detail.¡¯

    Miz-Mag said dryly.

    ¡®I know that seems rather vague. It is a difficult thing to describe, however. I think it best you see for yourselves, it is not far now.¡¯

    Instead of rushing forward however, the group continued to follow their gaunt guide. After watching her collect and process flowers, they were all eager to see what she intended to do with that strange backpack.

    As it happened, the lost woman was headed right for the city¡¯s centre. It took some time, but eventually Mickie was able to catch sight of the hole, appearing as a yawning stretch of emptiness in the distance.

    It was in the middle of circular open space, an area free of houses that was as broad as some of the larger caverns he had seen. The lost milled about in strange formations within, standing in neat rows facing a raised platform at the hole¡¯s edge.

    ¡®This place just keeps getting weirder and weirder.¡¯

    Mickie muttered as they followed the flower collector out into the open area. She appeared to be heading in the direction of the raised platform.

    ¡®I¡¯ll say kid. I was hoping for something like the tower. Don¡¯t see any elevators or stairs around here though.¡¯

    Miz-Mag replied, eyeing the surrounding lost warily. The branded man started, he had become so engrossed by this strange new discovery that their actual reason for coming had slipped his mind. This place was supposed to be their ticket out of the Labyrinth.

    ¡®The tower didn¡¯t look like it would take us out, but it ended up changing to let us through. Maybe this place is the same.¡¯

    Mickie said, but he was not entirely convinced.

    ¡®I hope so kid. I don¡¯t want to spend eternity wandering through a bunch of caves.¡¯

    Miz-Mag said as Ziz thudded to the ground nearby, nearly squishing a group of shuffling lost. The primordial eyed them all with irritation.

    ¡®About time. You are all very slow.¡¯

    ¡®Not all of us can fly, bud. Did you see anything else?¡¯

    Mickie cut in before Miz-Mag got a chance to retort.

    ¡®No.¡¯ Ziz said, releasing a long, birdlike sigh. ¡®Just lots of skinny people.¡¯

    Their flower collecting lost led the group onto the platform above the yawning hole. It was a simple structure, just a solid, raised region of steel. A dais protruded from the side facing away from the hole. When Mickie noticed it he hurried forward, after all he had touched something similar when he activated the desert tower.

    This time however, the branded man¡¯s luck did not hold. He reached out and touched the dais, remembering the feeling of disconnect, the sense of being watched by innumerable eyes. There was nothing. Mickie examined the waist high pillar of metal, searching for a hidden button or switch.

    Miz-Mag joined him, rummaging atop the structure''s surface in search of anything that stood out. The little demon discovered seams in the top, a portion in the middle that looked as if it might slide aside. Yet they found no control whatsoever. With a sigh Mickie straightened, turning to see what Kalistra and Ziz were up to. He found the haggard face of their lost guide, waiting mere inches from his own.

    Mickie shouted and instantly his gun was in his hand. The gaunt woman made no move however, not even when he put his weapon between them. She simply stood there, as if waiting in a queue at a cafe. The branded man glanced behind himself, to where Miz-Mag was snickering at his back. He frowned in thought, and stepped aside.

    The woman immediately stepped forward, right up to the dais. She unslung the device from her back, and set it atop the small pillar. Miz-Mag cursed and dove away, narrowly avoiding getting squished flat. Mickie smirked at the little demon and received a rude gesture in response.

    The lost¡¯s device made a series of clicks as it locked into place. A faint sound of sloshing liquid followed, before the machine gave a gentle chime and disconnected. The woman scooped it back up, and without a second glance, turned and began to walk away.

    ¡®You saw that right?¡¯

    Mickie called to Kalistra. The gorgon had been standing on the far end of the platform, leaning over the massive hole. She straightened at his question, turning away from the broad expanse of open air.

    ¡®Yes. Now we know where they are taking the flower extract, if not what they are doing with it.¡¯

    There was a light pressure on Mickie¡¯s shoulder as Miz-Mag retook its usual perch.

    ¡®Uh, she¡¯s getting away again.¡¯

    The little demon pointed to where the gaunt woman descended the stairs of the platform.

    ¡®That¡¯s alright.¡¯ Mickie said. ¡®Not sure where she¡¯ll head now, but I think we¡¯ve gotten everything we can from her.¡¯

    ¡®It would be nice to know what they are using the flowers for though.¡¯

    Kalistra mused.

    ¡®Ain¡¯t that the truth.¡¯ Miz-Mag muttered, and slumped against its partner¡¯s neck. ¡®Would also have been nice to find a way out of this hole.¡¯

    Mickie watched their lost leave the platform and meander back towards the city. He let his gaze drift away from her, shifting out across the other ragged mortals occupying the open space. There were groups of them standing in orderly rows, a sight that drew Mickie¡¯s attention.

    These lost had the same gaunt features and ragged clothing as all the others. What made them stand out was the tools they carried. He thought he saw what looked like a small pickaxe hanging from each belt and metal baskets worn as backpacks. They looked like they belonged in some kind of medieval mineshaft.

    Another thing he noted was that there were odd gaps in the rows of these lost. There was no discernable pattern to it, just a number of random spaces where one of the workers should have been standing. Neither Miz-Mag nor Kalistra could make anything of the strange distribution, so he let it go. Now that they were in the city, it was time to figure out what to do next.

    ¡®So, thoughts on where we might find an exit?¡¯ Mickie asked. ¡®Something to get us out to the fifth circle.¡¯

    ¡®Ziz and I have not noticed anything in particular. Though that does not mean there is nothing out there. We have yet to do a thorough search of each building. Just because they are identical on the outside, does not mean the same will hold for their interiors.¡¯

    Kalistra said, and Miz-Mag made a choked sound.

    ¡®You want to search every house in this city? That¡¯ll take us weeks!¡¯

    The gorgon shrugged.

    ¡®We are not short on time. I think it would be wise to conduct a proper search.¡¯

    Mickie sighed, while he also did not want to spend an age digging about the old city, Kalistra did have a point.

    ¡®She¡¯s not wrong Mag. We¡¯ve moved quickly up until now because there¡¯s always something chasing our tails. It¡¯d be good for once to take our time and properly investigate instead of letting the situation blow up in our faces.¡¯

    The little demon seemed reluctant, but relented.

    ¡®Ah, alright then. I think it''s a bit odd you reckon¡¯ taking time will stop things from blowing up in our faces, but sure, let¡¯s give the slow way a go.¡¯ Dramatic as always, Miz-Mag gave a long sigh before continuing. ¡®If we¡¯re going to shake this place down top to bottom, we¡¯ll have to start somewhere. Seeing as it was your plan Kali, do you have any ideas?¡¯

    They settled on a methodical, house by house method for searching. Before getting started however, the group decided to take a closer look at the damaged region Kalistra had noted earlier. Ziz took off into the air again as the gorgon led them around the giant hole in the ground. Mickie glanced over the side as they walked.

    With the large lights overhead, he could see the bottom. A curved base of dark steel with traces of something silver puddled on the floor. Strange, but not worth the risk heading into those depths would entail. He had not forgotten the sounds of something moving in throughout the pipes.

    They left the open city centre behind, weaving between shambling lost as they went. It was not long before Mickie saw the change, and he immediately understood why the gorgon and primordial had struggled to explain it. All of a sudden, partway up the street, the identical rows of buildings gave way to ruin.

    A straight, tidy line delineated the two, the smooth road giving way to cracked and warped steel. The nearest building was also a mess, folded half in upon itself like a crushed cardboard box. Further up the road Mickie could see green spilling out onto the street, coming from a block of dense foliage.

    ¡®What in the nine?¡¯

    Miz-Mag whispered, then seemed to notice something.

    ¡®Hey kid, you see any of the lost?¡¯

    Mickie frowned and glanced around. There were some of the gaunt figures nearby, but they were all behind him.

    ¡®Did they abandon this place?¡¯

    He asked Kalistra, and the gorgon shrugged.

    ¡®Not entirely.¡¯

    She nodded up the street, and Mickie turned to find a lone figure, stumbling their way down the broken road. They had a familiar device strapped to their back, one of the flower gatherers. As Mickie watched the lost tripped, their foot catching on a bent section of metal. The branded man winced at the resulting fall, but the distant figure did not even grunt in pain.

    He started forward when the lost failed to immediately rise, Kalistra at his side. As they got closer the ragged mortal finally stirred, pushing themself slowly upright. Mickie could see blood soaking into their threadbare clothing. Not unexpected, considering the state the street was in.

    The lost approached them, leaving a single, bloody print each time it stepped on its right foot. Mickie and Kalistra paused as it neared, only to be ignored as usual. Heedless of them or its own injuries, the flower collector continued on its way.

    ¡®I have said this a lot, but that is not the typical behaviour of the lost. They do not normally ignore pain.¡¯

    The gorgon murmured.

    ¡®No need to convince me.¡¯ Miz-Mag said. ¡®They¡¯re definitely freaky.¡¯

    Mickie however, was frowning after his fellow mortal as they shuffled down the street. He recalled the ranks of mining lost he had seen in the central space, and the holes in their lineup. Turning to regard the empty ruins, he was about to speak when something caught his eye.

    Movement on a broken street corner. It took a moment, but Mickie saw it. Hunched low, six legs, a twisting metallic tail, and gleaming gemstone eyes. The man and the machine looked at one another for a long moment.

    ¡®Guys.¡¯ He hissed. ¡®It¡¯s here.¡¯

    As if it could hear his voice, the machine fled. Mickie did not hesitate, he shot after it without a second thought. Around the street corner, deeper into the ruins. The lizard-bot was fast, but so was Mickie. He caught sight of it as it scrambled around another corner and darted after it. They ran through the door of a busted building, then out of its broken back wall into the neighbouring structure. Mickie burst out into the next street and cast about for the machine.

    ¡®Over there kid!¡¯

    Miz-Mag pointed and the branded man caught a glimpse of a metal tail disappearing around a corner. He ran down the street, turned after the sneaky robot, and came to a sudden, skidding halt. Before him the road was entirely blocked by a fallen building, the crushed metal too mangled for a person to squeeze through. Mickie spun around, breathing hard and glaring into every space the lizard might have slunk into. He found nothing.

    ¡®You saw it?¡¯

    Kalistra asked, skidding around the corner as Mickie shouted out a curse.

    ¡®Yeah, but it got away again.¡¯

    Miz-Mag replied, squinting into the wreckage of the old building.

    ¡®No matter where we go.¡¯

    Mickie muttered bitterly. He paced back and forth, then paused. On the street corner, right beside where he stood, sat a square of greenspace. Unlike the others in the ruined section, it was not spilling beyond the confines of its block. Still overgrown, but in a way that seemed almost intentional.

    Branches of trees curled and turned, creating strange shapes and spirals. Shrubs seemed to have been trimmed to curve and flow around one another to create colourful patterns. An oddly familiar thorny bush in one corner was twisted upon itself, folding upwards until it blossomed like a flower.

    Strangest of all however, was that at the centre of it all, sitting upon a weathered park bench, was a single, haggard lost. Mickie looked at the lone figure, and was startled when the figure looked back. It was a man, dark skinned with wide eyes that held a manic gleam.

    ¡®By the blood, look at that one.¡¯

    Miz-Mag murmured, seeing the lost at the same moment Mickie had.

    ¡®What is¡­ oh.¡¯

    Kalistra came to a halt beside the branded man, startled by the strange garden and its occupant. The lost¡¯s mouth began to move, as if to speak. Only, if the man was saying anything at all, it was too quiet for them to hear.

    The lizard machine forgotten for the moment, Mickie took a slow step forward, eyes on the gaunt mortal. Kalistra followed closely behind as he stepped into the green space, her hair fanned out in all directions.

    ¡®These plants, their shapes, they remind me of something.¡¯ The gorgon spoke in hardly more than a whisper. ¡®It¡¯s not perfect, but Mickie, I think they are mimicking¡­¡¯

    ¡®Runes.¡¯

    The branded man finished, and pointed. To one side, just off the garden path, the loamy soil appeared to be almost glowing. Only, it was not the soil, but something else, something just beneath it. Kalistra squatted down and brushed aside a thin layer of dirt. Row upon row of runic script became visible, tiny characters that flowed in shapes and lines as twisted as the garden around them.

    ¡®In all the abyss.¡¯

    Kalistra said, breathless.

    ¡®This is¡­¡¯

    ¡®The rent cannot be repaired.¡¯

    A raspy voice came from right beside Mickie. Both he and Miz-Mag started, spinning to find a husk of a man in ragged cloth.

    ¡®The cycle fails.¡¯

    The lost said, having somehow snuck up on them. Kalistra slowly rose from the ground, but did not interrupt. None of them had heard one of the ragged mortals speak before.

    ¡®The beast must be fed. The beast cannot be fed. The strings direct. The strings about my neck. One which sings and one which shapes. They are gone but I cannot breathe, I cannot see, I cannot¡­¡¯

    His voice grew higher as he spoke, before trailing off. The lost man¡¯s head fell to his chest for a moment, before snapping back up with a gasp.

    ¡®The forge must not wake. The beast must be fed. We are the skin upon the bones and how we itch.¡¯

    The man staggered backwards, arms flying to the sides of his head, pulling at long, matted hair.

    ¡®And the words. Stop the words. Always the words. Oh, oh, oh¡­¡¯

    The lost wailed, reaching a fever pitch. He held the final note, the sound draggin like nails on a chalkboard. Then the man collapsed into the grass, going still as a statue.

    ¡®What in all nine stinkin¡¯ circles, was that?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked after an extended silence. Neither Mickie or Kalistra had an answer for the little demon. None of them knew what to make of what they had just heard, or the limp lost who had delivered the speech.

    ¡®Is he even still alive?¡¯

    The demon muttered, leaping from Mickie¡¯s shoulder to the body of the ragged man. It listened for breath then delivered a few quick jabs to the lost¡¯s neck. They elicited no response.

    ¡®Well, he ain¡¯t dead at least, which I suppose makes sense. Never heard of anyone dying from talking before.¡¯

    A shadow flickered overhead and something heavy landed on the remnants of a nearby building.

    ¡®Everyone! Something is happening!¡¯

    Ziz projected its voice loudly, extending its long neck towards them. The primordial hesitated when it saw them standing beside the collapsed man.

    ¡®What is happening?¡¯

    Kalistra asked before it could say anything else. The young avian shook itself, a ripple passing through its feathers.

    ¡®The lost, it¡¯s the lost, they¡¯re gathering in the middle. I saw them when¡­¡¯

    Anything else Ziz might have said was cut off as a sudden, reverberating bell sounded from somewhere out of sight. It vibrated through the ground, clacking Mickie¡¯s teeth and rattling his bones. Then, as if responding to some unknown challenge, there came an almighty roar.

 39 - Lights Out

    The roar quaked through the shattered region of the lost city. It hammered at Mickie¡¯s ears like a physical force, triggering some long buried instincts. His hind brain was telling him that whatever it was making that noise, it was trouble, more trouble than he could handle. Ziz had straightened at the sound, peering over the tops of ruined buildings towards the city centre.

    From the ground nearby there came a wailing scream. Mickie glanced down to discover the recently collapsed lost curled up in the fetal position, holding his head as he cried. When the noise eventually faded, it was replaced by another sound. A distant boom, one followed by another, and another.

    ¡®We need to go see what¡¯s happening.¡¯

    Mickie said, speaking over the rhythmic thumping. To his surprise, Kalistra did not agree immediately. Instead she hesitated, seeming unwilling to leave the runes they had exposed.

    ¡®But, I¡­ this could be important too¡­¡¯

    Kalistra had once worked with these symbols as something called a Transcriber, and was easily distracted by fancy rune carvings. Even with a giant monster on approach, she was reluctant to turn away. Mickie made a snap decision.

    ¡®Alright. You stay here then, I¡¯ll go take a look at what¡¯s happening.¡¯

    He paused, a thought occuring.

    ¡®And keep an eye on this one. He might have more to say.¡¯

    Mickie waved to the collapsed lost, then spun on his heel, waving an arm at Ziz.

    ¡®Any chance for a lift bud?¡¯

    The primordial gave an affirming squawk, stretching its long neck towards the branded man. He reached up and wrapped an arm around the back of the big bird¡¯s head. Mickie and Miz-Mag were lifted into the air, Ziz depositing the pair just above the beginning of its wings.

    ¡®Goodbye Kali.¡¯

    It projected, receiving a distracted wave in response. Kalistra was already squatting before the exposed runes, tracing them with a finger. Ziz took to the air, pumping its wings to gain height as the rhythmic booming grew ever louder.

    Anxious as Mickie was to see what was happening with the lost, he could not help but marvel at the sight below. From above the city appeared more uniform than ever. Every block appeared perfectly square, with an equal number of buildings and green spaces. The only change came from their orientation, shifting the position of the plant life from one corner to another. As they ascended even higher, Mickie began to see a symmetry to it all. The perfectly straight streets divided the city into segments which reflected one another.

    Only the destroyed region stood out, like a tear in an otherwise perfectly folded piece of paper. Mickie had been wondering what could have done that to such a large swathe of the city. Now though, he was convinced he could hear the answer, crashing closer through the pipes below.

    Still some distance from the cavern roof, Ziz reached the city centre and began to circle. Below them, on the open space surrounding the hole, the lost were gathering. They stood together in neat rows, grouped by the roles they performed. Mickie saw the mining lost, still stationary in their rigid lines, the flower gatherers, whose lines had more gaps than even their digging comrades. There were cleaners, maintainers, gardeners, and so many other roles about which Mickie knew nothing. Hundreds of lost, with more streaming in from every street connected to the circular centre.

    The flow of haggard mortals began to lessen around the same time the approaching creature ceased its cacophonous run. The trio in the sky all glanced into the hole with expectation, but nothing was visible. Whatever had been approaching the city, it elected to stay out of sight. Around the hole the last of the lost were settling into their orderly lines.

    They stood like zombies in a military parade, silent, unmoving, and staring at their own feet. Mickie noted that gaps remained in the flower gathering ranks, and he was reminded of the lost who had tripped earlier. The question he had been on the verge of asking then came to him again, alongside its answer.

    If one of the city¡¯s occupants died, what did that mean for the role that they filled? It meant that the job would go unfinished. Ziz twisted in the air, aligning them with the nearby ruined section. Forming a straight line from that area to the city centre, there was a large break in the rows of lost. As if something had damaged their formation just as it had ruined the city.

    From below there came a sudden rumbling, a sound Mickie recognised as the churn of heavy machinery. The trio looked down to find holes opening up on the sides of the massive pipe. Four equidistant panels slid aside, and something began to pour out. It was like liquid metal, only shining with silver light.

    There came another roar from within the pipe¡¯s depths as a heavy scent of iron filled the air. It smelled somewhat like the flower field, just without the sweet hint of cinnamon. The scent clued Mickie into the substance¡¯s origin, making him recall the balls of liquid atop the flowers. Those had been a shifting mix of silver and blue. He was next to certain it was the former liquid now pouring into the open hole.

    Even with the realisation, the quantities involved seemed staggering. Silver ran in a torrent into the pipe, well beyond what was contained within a few flower beads. As the waterfalls slowed, Mickie wondered at how long it had taken the lost to gather that much liquid. From deep within the hole, there came a loud rumble. Not quite the roar from earlier, but a deeper sound, one that carried on until the liquid stopped flowing and the outlets resealed.

    Then, finally, there was silence. Ziz continued to circle as the lost held their broken rows. Cautiously, the branded man reached out a hand and prodded the big bird in its long neck.

    ¡®Hey bud, could you take us down?¡¯

    He asked, and pointed to the empty platform at the hole¡¯s edge, one of the only spots that was free of the lost. Ziz grumbled an agreement and dove, nearly blowing over some of the nearby lost as it slowed for landing. Mickie dismounted the first moment he was able, grateful for the chance to stretch out his legs.

    ¡®What do you reckon¡¯ they¡¯re standing around for?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked softly, the little fiend¡¯s voice tense as it examined the rows of haggard humans.

    ¡®I¡¯m not sure.¡¯

    Mickie muttered in response.

    ¡®Seems odd they would take the time off work without reason though.¡¯

    Clap.

    Without warning and in perfect synchronisation, every single lost brought their hands up, and slammed them together. The resulting sound almost hurt Mickie¡¯s ears.

    Clap.

    They did it again, then again. A chorus of claps at increasing speed, but in perfect harmony.

    ¡®What is happening!¡¯

    Ziz cried, hunching low and huddling behind Mickie. The young primordial flinch with each piercing slap of the hands. It was so loud it reminded the branded man of a couple concerts he had gone to, though without the shouting. Metal fans could be noisy, and their applause even more so. Mickie started at the thought, glancing out at the orderly crowd. Hundreds of people, clapping together like this.

    ¡®They¡¯re applauding!¡¯

    He shouted. As strange as it sounded, that was the only thing which made sense. If the point were to make pure noise, then there would be other ways to do so. Methods more effective than gathering a few thousand people together and having them clap.

    ¡®By the blood kid! I think you¡¯re right. They must have appreciated your flying, bird brain.¡¯

    Miz-Mag said, jumping from Mickie¡¯s shoulder to Ziz¡¯s head. The primordial squeaked and sunk lower to the ground.

    ¡®Well I do not like it.¡¯

    As if in response, the applause came to a sudden stop. Every pair of hands in the open area parted, and stayed that way. There came a momentary pause, like the breath of silence in which they might have thanked the crowd for coming out. Then without further fanfare, every single one of the lost, including the otherwise stationary digging crew, turned and left for the city.

    The trio watched them go in perplexed silence. The ragged figures did not immediately return to their usual tasks. Instead, from what Mickie could see, they began filing into the identical buildings. The streets gradually emptied until the city appeared entirely vacant of life. It was not a rapid process, giving the trio of observers time to break past their stunned silence.

    ¡®Welp, if I wasn¡¯t creeped out before that definitely did the job.¡¯

    Miz-Mag commented dryly.

    ¡®Yes, I preferred the quiet ones when they were quiet.¡¯

    Ziz ruffled its feathers and straightened. Mickie placed a consoling hand on the primordial¡¯s neck.

    ¡®Yeah, this place just keeps getting weirder. I wonder what all that was for?¡¯

    He meandered over to the large hole, looking into its depths. He now saw that the traces of silver at the bottom were small puddles of the liquid. Ziz joined him, craning its long neck over the edge to give Miz-Mag a look.

    ¡®You noticed it was flower juice, right kid?¡¯

    The little demon asked. Mickie nodded.

    ¡®Yep. Not sure why they¡¯re dumping it though.¡¯

    ¡®And if that''s the silver stuff, then what are they doing with the blue bits? Also, how come this stuff stays good? Whenever I poked a flower the colours always died off.¡¯

    Miz-Mag raised some good questions, none of which Mickie had answers to. The branded man turned towards the city, watching the lost as they disappeared inside.

    ¡®I think we need to snag one of those processing machines, maybe right before it''s emptied into that thing.¡¯

    He nodded towards the platform''s lone steel pedestal.

    ¡®If we pull one apart maybe Kalistra can see how it works.¡¯

    ¡®Hmm, yes, the snake does have her uses on occasion.¡¯

    Miz-Mag snarked, seeming to forget upon whose head it was perched. Ziz, noting the disrespect to its partner, flicked its long neck like a whip. The little demon screamed a curse as it sailed through the air, landing with an oomph in Mickie¡¯s outstretched hand. It wasted no time, getting right to hurling insults.

    ¡®Damned overgrown chicken! I¡¯ll pluck you like the bird you are!¡¯

    Expression should have been difficult with a beak, but somehow Ziz managed to smirk at the screeching fiend. Mickie sighed, waiting until Miz-Mag cooled off before placing it on his shoulder.

    ¡®If you¡¯re going to insult someone, then at least do it to their face.¡¯

    He said, as the demon sulked. The three of them continued to bicker and watch until all the lost had disappeared from view. It was strange to see the city streets so empty, well lit like it was the place looked like a ghost town. Mickie shook off the eerie feeling and turned to his companions.

    ¡®Well, I suppose we should head back and see what Kalistra''s up to.¡¯

    They all agreed, but before the branded man could hop atop Ziz, the lights went out. In an instant, the city went from lit up in a facsimile of a sunny day, to pitch black. Mickie¡¯s mind spun for a moment, panic at the sudden loss of sight. From right in front of him there came a panicked screech.

    ¡®Ziz? You alright?¡¯

    ¡®Cannot see! I cannot see!¡¯

    The avian stuttered the words out in alarm, its control over the air shaky.

    ¡®Same here kid. Someone turned out the lights.¡¯

    Miz-Mag had a strong grip on his ear, keeping itself planted in place. Mickie fished out his orb lamp and light spilled onto the steel platform. Even with his improved eyes it seemed weak compared to the illumination from above. Ziz was reared up, glancing about frantically. It saw them and let out a whistling sigh.

    ¡®Must be bedtime.¡¯

    Mickie commented as the trio got their bearings. Miz-Mag chuckled nervously from atop his shoulder.

    ¡®I¡¯ll say. You¡¯d think they¡¯d leave a night light on or something.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, it is too dark. We should go find Kali.¡¯

    Ziz sounded concerned. They only had a single lamp between the four of them, and it was currently in Mickie¡¯s hands. Their gorgon companion was currently stranded without a light.

    ¡®Yeah bud, you¡¯re right. We can make more plans once the lights are back on.¡¯

    Before he could mount Ziz however, there came a snuffling rumble. It reminded Mickie of the sound some dogs made when they sniffed and dug at the earth. The trio froze, turning slowly towards the expansive hole beside their steel platform. The noise continued, punctuated by the occasional echoing thud.

    Mickie shared a look with Miz-Mag and Ziz, before turning to the hole. That sound did not have the tinny echo of those before. Whatever had made it was close, potentially even within sight. Mickie found himself stepping slowly towards the platform¡¯s edge, Ziz creeping alongside him. None of them could resist the chance to steal a look.

    They halted before the black expanse, deep enough that even Mickie¡¯s improved eyes could not see the bottom. The branded man leant forward, and held out his circular lamp, shining it straight into the shadowy abyss. Something shifted at the bottom. He saw it move, an absolutely massive shape, nearly as wide as the pipe itself. Its body was a shifting amalgamation of dark shadows, indistinct and unrecognizable.

    The monster moved, and something caught the light of Mickie¡¯s lamp, glinting up at him. A massive pair of bloodshot eyes. Before the branded man could react, there was another set of eyes, then another. A grumbling bellow shook steel beneath their feet, and one of the shadows attached to the monster arced up through the dark. Mickie caught sight of a titanic hand right before it crashed into the side of the pipe.

    The impact shook the world like an earthquake, and the branded man staggered back from the hole to avoid slipping in. There came another bellow, and the cavern quaked anew. Mickie realised with horror, that the sounds were getting closer. The monster was climbing the pipe.

    ¡®Time to go!¡¯

    He shouted, crouching low to avoid tripping over. Ziz, wide eyed and panicked, squawked in agreement. The primordial hunched low as it spun, giving Mickie the opportunity to leap atop its long neck. As Ziz ran for the far edge of the platform, flapping its wings, the branded man threw a glance over his shoulder. He was just in time to see a massive arm rise out of the expansive hole.

    ¡®By the blood!¡¯

    Miz-Mag screamed as the looming hand fell towards them like toppled redwood. Ziz hit the edge of the platform and leapt into the air, darting right between the tips of two meaty fingers. Mickie caught a glimpse of coarse hair coating a misshapen section of body before they were away, the beast rumbling behind them.

    Ziz beat its wings like a hummingbird, desperately clawing for altitude as the monster pulled itself free. On the primordial¡¯s back, Mickie held his lamp aloft, though there was little they could collide with in the air. It did provide him with enough light to see the outline of the beast however. It emerged from the hole, rising up, and up, and up, until it loomed even above the dark city.

    Mickie saw the glint of eyes tracking him and his companions, bloodshot and full of rage. Arms emerged from the darkness, three, then seven, then thirteen. Too many to count, boiling out from the monster''s shadowed body like the tentacles of a sea beast. Ziz flew like its tail was on fire, ducking, weaving and spinning through the massive appendages.

    Mickie and Miz-Mag clung on desperately to the primordial¡¯s back as it maneuvered. The world became a twisting blur of shadowy shapes, and gut wrenching movement. Unable to tell up from down, all the branded man could do was track the monster by its booming footsteps.

    ¡®Climb! You need to climb!¡¯

    He screamed at their avian companion.

    ¡®Get above its reach!¡¯

    Ziz did not respond, for all Mickie knew that was exactly what it had been doing. He did notice more arms swinging into view however, the jaws of a titanic trap clasing about them. The young primordial became ever more frantic, until finally, they burst into open air. Ziz cawed a victorious screech as it levelled out, and was answered by a roar from below. Mickie could see the arms of the monster reaching into the sky, like a forest of shifting trees. Grasping for prey that was out of reach.

    The monster¡¯s body was a dark outline of sharp edges and lumpen flesh, furious eyes glinting in the faint light. Mickie marvelled at its size, bigger than half the caverns they had passed through on the journey here. So large that even his improved eyes could see it in full, the lamp light was just not strong enough.

    ¡®By the blood, bird brain. That was some serious flying.¡¯

    Miz-Mag sounded winded, as if it had been the one who evaded an angry giant.

    ¡®We aren¡¯t home safe yet.¡¯

    Mickie said, as the monster growled in frustration and fury. He gave Ziz a pat on the neck.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡®See if you can¡¯t set us down on one of the lights.¡¯

    The bird rumbled in acknowledgement and continued to build altitude. Above the branded man could see the outline of the titanic lights that normally illuminated the city. They dangled just beneath the domed ceiling of the cave. If he remembered correctly from his initial observation, each light sloped up to a point on the back, but the base had a suitable lip upon which they could perch.

    As they gained altitude the beast quieted in its rage, no longer roaring up at them. The innumerable arms pulled back to its body, leaving only the occasional glimpse of bloodshot sclera. Ziz landed, scrambling at the sloped side of the light with such force it began to sway from side to side. The primordial''s powerful rear legs caught on the lip, providing enough purchase for it to steady.

    Once the rocking had slowed and Ziz was calm, Mickie dismounted. There was about a meter of flat surface between the slope and the open air, plenty in which he could safely huddle. For Ziz however, a meter was a bit of an ask, and the avian set the light shaking another few times before it was settled.

    Eventually Miz-Mag finished cursing the primordial for its final bout of gut wrenching movement, and the trio fell into an uneasy silence. Some distance beneath them the giant monster had returned to just a lumpy outline. They could hear it moving about, echoing booms punctuated by the rending of steel.

    ¡®Hey bud.¡¯

    Mickie said, a question coming to him that he should have posed far earlier.

    ¡®How¡¯s Kalistra going? She get clear of that thing?

    Ziz shifted its head, a single bronze eye glinting in the lamplight.

    ¡®Yes, she is safe. I flew away from her when we ran, and the creature followed.¡¯

    Mickie nodded. He had not been too worried about Kalistra. The gorgon was no fool, and when things had started to go crazy, she had doubtless been watching through her partner¡¯s eyes. There was a slight pressure on the branded man¡¯s shoulder as Miz-Mag jumped free. The little fiend scampered to the light¡¯s edge.

    ¡®So that¡¯ll be a new bit of the city the big fella is squashing flat then?¡¯

    Ziz shifted its head to join the demon in looking down.

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    Was all the avian said in response. Mickie sighed and leant back against the big light¡¯s sloped side. His head thudded against the hard metal as he glared up at the thick cord connecting it to the ceiling. The branded man tried to run through the events they had witnessed, attempting to parse some meaning from them.

    Beginning with the synchronised applause, and ending with a monster chasing them through a darkened city. It all seemed so nonsensical. What had they done to attract the beast¡¯s ire? Had it somehow smelt them?

    For that matter, why did the big guy only come into view when the lights were off? It seemed to eat the silvery flower extract, so surely it made sense to come into view when the waterfalls switched on. Mickie spun his orb lamp around in his hand, watching the light play off his fingers, when realisation struck. He called softly to his two companions.

    ¡®Hey, you two, get back from the edge.¡¯

    ¡®What why? You scared I¡¯m gonna fall off kid?¡¯

    Miz-Mag said, casting him a smug look over its shoulder.

    ¡®I used to climb about the Evergaol you know, don¡¯t you remember how we met?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah I don¡¯t doubt your monkey-like abilities, but I¡¯m going to turn the lamp off, and not even a monkey can manage without light.¡¯

    He replied dryly.

    ¡®Turn off the light? You want me to fall or something?¡¯

    Miz-Mag took a few quick steps away from the edge. Ziz though, seemed less concerned about the drop as it was of the light.

    ¡®You want the dark again? Why?¡¯

    ¡®Just a thought about the big guy that I want to give a spin.¡¯

    Mickie said, petting the avian on its folded wing.

    ¡®Oh yeah?¡¯ Miz-Mag muttered. ¡®What kinda thought?¡¯

    ¡®That it was the lamp which lured the monster out of the pipe.¡¯

    The branded man raised the orb, drawing all eyes to it.

    ¡®Even now, the big guy is hanging around nearby. Almost like it''s keeping an eye on us.¡¯

    With a flick of the wrist Mickie tossed the ball of light, catching it before dropping his arm back to his side.

    ¡®Not only that, but it didn¡¯t even come out into the open until the lights were off. Seems like something that¡¯s worth testing.¡¯

    He finished, raising an eyebrow at his companions. The pair were reluctant, but saw the logic in what he was saying and acquiesced. With a press the light blinked out, plunging the cavern into absolute darkness.

    The reaction from beneath them was instantaneous, the beast making an overlapping chorus of grunts. The sounds of it shuffling about rose for a time, before the creature stopped moving entirely. Mickie might not be able to see his companions, but he could feel them, Miz-Mag perched on his knee and Ziz¡¯s neck against his hand. They were just as tense as he was.

    Absolute silence reigned for a long few minutes. Mickie had begun to wonder if the monster had gone to sleep when it finally shifted. There came the creak of steel and the shifting of something vast. Heavy footsteps thudded through the cave, followed by booming as the monster descended back into the pipe.

    The sounds of its exit gradually faded away until they stopped entirely. About a minute passed before Miz-Mag released a long, tense chuckle.

    ¡®Well I¡¯ll be, you were on the money kid.¡¯

    Mickie nodded, then realised no one could see him do so.

    ¡®Luckily. Who knows what could have happened if it stuck around until the lights came back on.¡¯

    ¡®Yep, that would not have been pretty.¡¯ The demon said. ¡®So what¡¯s next then? I¡¯m guessing we won¡¯t be using the lamp again.¡¯

    ¡®No, it isn¡¯t worth the risk.¡¯ Mickie replied, rubbing Ziz on the side of the neck. He knew how much the avian disliked the dark. ¡®I¡¯m thinking we stay up here for a while, give the big guy a chance to wander off before we make our next move.¡¯

    He finished, settling in to wait. Beside him Ziz shifted, moving its head onto his lap. The branded man scooped Miz-Mag off his knee before the primordial squished the little demon. He dropped the squeaking fiend atop Ziz¡¯s feathers, ignoring the curses thrown his way. In silence the trio waited, ears pricked for any sound of the titanic monster.

    BIG LINE HERE

    Mickie awoke to the drone of an electrical current. The surface upon which he sat felt warm, almost to the point of being outright hot. It took a moment before he figured out why that was concerning. If he could feel the heat, then it must really be toasty. Mickie opened his eyes to find the world had regained its light.

    Ziz was still asleep, head pining the mortal¡¯s legs in place. Shifting around the big bird, he peered at the city below, noting the brand new flattened area right beneath their light. It was even worse than the original region of destruction, like something had punched at the ground with a hydraulic press. Instead of toppled buildings and overgrown gardens, there was a circle of flattened steel. The monster must have gradually compressed everything as it shuffled about beneath them.

    ¡®Hey bud, it¡¯s time to get moving.¡¯

    Mickie gave Ziz¡¯s big head a shake, glancing around for Miz-Mag. The fiend was nowhere to be found, likely having retreated to rest. The primordial currently squishing his legs gave a long grumble, opening one eye partly. Then, all at once Ziz was wide awake, turning about and sending their big light swaying.

    ¡®Mickie! Lights!¡¯

    ¡®Yep, looks like bed time is over.¡¯

    The branded man nodded down to where human figures shuffled about on identical streets. The primordial agreed excitedly, then proclaimed they had to find Kalistra immediately. Mickie was happy to agree, feeling a twinge of vertigo now the city was well lit. The big light had been a good call to escape the monster, but it sure was high up.

    After some gut clenching maneuvering, he managed to jump aboard his avian companion, and they set off. It was a short flight to the original city ruins, from which Ziz swiftly located its partner. Kalistra was standing out in the overgrown garden, almost exactly where they had left her. She seemed unharmed, waving an arm towards them as she smiled broadly.

    Ziz cawed out a loud greeting, coming down between a pair of broken buildings. The primordial hardly waited for Mickie to dismount before it was bounding to the gorgon. Kalistra laughed as her partner wrapped her in its long neck, all while yammering about what they had seen. Mickie grinned at the display, dusting himself off and heading over at a more sedate pace.

    ¡®You held up alright then?¡¯

    He asked. Kalistra''s smile drooped slightly.

    ¡®I did, the creature did not come my way, and I spent the time hiding in one of the buildings.¡¯ She said, rubbing Ziz under the chin. ¡®But Mickie, what happened out there?¡¯

    The branded man sighed, stretching out his arms and legs.

    ¡®A lot. Tell me what you saw and I¡¯ll run you through the rest.¡¯

    Mickie filled in the gaps between what Kalistra had seen through Ziz, and what they had experienced. Mostly this consisted of an explanation of his thoughts on how the monster reacted to light. The gorgon agreed for the most part, though she did raise some interesting points.

    ¡®So, the main lights keep the monster at bay?¡¯

    She asked, and Mickie nodded.

    ¡®Yeah, if it hated our little lamp, then it would despise the usual level of illumination. The big guy didn¡¯t even step out into the open until the lights were off.¡¯

    ¡®Okay, So why did the lights go out then?¡¯

    ¡®Hmm?¡¯

    ¡®If the lights were the only thing protecting the city, then why did they go out? You mentioned the lost all went inside, but even if they did so to sleep, I don¡¯t see why the main lights had to be switched off. It seems to be asking for trouble.¡¯

    Kalistra finished, waving a hand at their surroundings to punctuate her point. Mickie thought for a moment, and swiftly realised he did not know.

    ¡®Huh, you¡¯re right, it doesn¡¯t make any sense. Unless¡­¡¯

    He turned an eye on the ruined city, examining broken and bent buildings.

    ¡®Unless the point was to let the monster in.¡¯

    The both of them fell silent for a contemplative moment. Mickie found Kalistra¡¯s question had brought forward another of his own. If light was what kept the monster at bay, then why had it not already squished the city flat? They had evidence it had come up before, it was etched into the fractured city around them. So, why did it not leave the pipes every time the lights went out? Just another question for the pile.

    ¡®Now that you have updated me, I suppose I should show you what I have found.¡¯

    Kalistra said, disentangling herself from Ziz and leading them towards the overgrown garden. Mickie stopped short the moment he passed the first twisted shrub. Where there had once been a vague outline of red beneath a thin layer of dirt, runes had been uncovered in large swathes. Kalistra had dug up entire sections of the garden, revealing steel hidden beneath the soil.

    Red scrawl covered the metal, small intricate patterns that curved in on eachothers to form twisting lines. It reminded Mickie of the chains which had bound Ziz, but across a far larger area.

    ¡®What is all this?¡¯

    He muttered, getting lost in the twists of runic script.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know.¡¯ Kalistra said, a note of manic excitement entering her voice. ¡®Is that not incredible?.

    ¡®Wait what? I thought this was your thing?¡¯

    Mickie started, taken aback by the gorgon¡¯s sudden fervour.

    ¡®That it is!¡¯ She exclaimed. ¡®I have spent years studying runes; analyzing their meaning and intentions, but this¡­¡¯

    Kalistra waved a hand at the uncovered etchings.

    ¡®This is beyond anything I have seen before. I can read some of the characters, of course, but I cannot even begin to derive the intent behind it all.¡¯

    ¡®Well then.¡¯ Mickie said, squatting down to get a better look at the intricate runic patterns. ¡®It¡¯s lucky we aren¡¯t short on time.¡¯

    BIG LINE HERE

    Some time later, in the centre of the cavernous city, Mickie, Miz-Mag, Kalistra and Ziz examined what had once been a sturdy steel platform. It, alongside a good portion of nearby buildings, had fallen prey to the big monster¡¯s ascension.

    A foot high stretch flattened metal was all that remained of the previously tall structure, crawling with a number of lost that looked like a repair crew. Mickie was unsure how they were even going to begin fixing something that totaled, and he dreaded to think how long it would take. One thing he was certain of though, was that no platform meant no pedestal, and no pedestal meant no flower extract.

    ¡®Mickie.¡¯ Kalistra muttered, her tone a little hollow. ¡®Did you not mention that the creature fed upon the silver liquid?¡¯

    ¡®I did.¡¯ Mickie said, voice just as empty.

    ¡®Right, and we saw that this platform had the sole means by which the lost deposited said liquid.¡¯

    ¡®That we did.¡¯ Miz-Mag said dryly. ¡®Which is what I¡¯d say this sorry lot is here for.¡¯

    Beside the wreckage of the platform stood a line of haggard mortals, waiting to deliver the contents of their metal backpacks. Occasionally another lost would make its way over and join the queue, waiting for an opportunity to offload its cargo.

    ¡®If it cannot eat, will it come up again?¡¯

    Ziz asked, poking at a bent length of metal.

    ¡®I¡¯m not sure.¡¯ Mickie muttered. ¡®Food isn¡¯t a necessity in Hell, but the big guy did seem pretty keen on it.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, if the monster enjoys consuming the liquid, it will likely not be pleased to miss a meal. Who knows how it will react.¡¯

    Kalistra said, her serpentine hair shifting in agitation

    ¡®Poorly would be my guess.¡¯ Miz-Mag groaned, before giving the side of Mickie¡¯s head a consoling pat. ¡®So much for having time on our side, aye kid?¡¯

    Mickie sighed. Nothing could ever truly just go their way.

    ¡®Well, there¡¯s nothing we can do but hope meal time is a ways off. Looking at how much of that juice there was, I¡¯d say we have a bit.¡¯

    He said, though a weight had settled in the branded man¡¯s gut. Something about this city, with its hidden runes and lost occupants put him on edge. Mickie turned away from the ruined platform, running his eyes across the empty space around the hole. The lost equipped for mining were back out in their ranks, lines still full of holes. It brought back a realisation Mickie had some time ago, one which he had yet to voice.

    ¡®It sucks that the platform¡¯s gone but this city¡­ I think it was failing anyway.¡¯

    His companions all turned towards him.

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯ Miz-Mag asked.

    ¡®Well, you see those lost over there¡¯ The branded man said, indicating the groups of idle miners. ¡®The ones with holes in their ranks.¡¯

    His companions made collective noises of ascent, and Mickie continued.

    ¡®Well those gaps didn¡¯t come from nowhere. I think they indicate where a dead lost would normally stand.¡¯

    ¡®Makes sense, I guess, don¡¯t know why it¡¯s relevant though.¡¯ Miz-Mag replied.

    ¡®It¡¯s relevant because that wasn¡¯t the only group with missing members. When all the lost gathered, there were plenty more holes in the ranks.¡¯

    He waved towards the section of the city from which they had come.

    ¡®The ruins, for instance, had entire groups missing. I bet it''s the same way over there after last night.¡¯

    Nearby, the newly flattened block stood out distinctly from the other buildings ringing the city center. Unlike the platform nearby, it only had a few repair people poking at the edges. Likely most of those assigned to do the work had perished under the monster¡¯s assault. Mickie wondered if they had felt anything as they had died, or if it had simply been their bodies getting on the same level as their souls. He shook the thought away.

    ¡®Anyway, the point I¡¯m trying to make is there were other groups with missing members, and the worst of these.¡¯ He nodded towards the line of flower gatherers. ¡®Was them.¡¯

    Kalistra caught on, humming in thought as she examined the idle lost.

    ¡®I see. It makes sense, in a way. The tunnels we passed through near the city were safe, but they might not always be that way. Those who venture out would often fail to return.¡¯

    ¡®Exactly.¡¯ Mickie said. ¡®Which means over time, less and less flower juice is gathered.

    ¡®And eventually.¡¯ Kalistra started, having picked up what he was implying. ¡®They all would die. The beast would lose its food, and likely rampage through the city.¡¯

    ¡®Or.¡¯ Mickie said. ¡®Somebody comes along, and accidentally pisses the big guy off, it then takes out a chunk of the city, and impacts the flower gathering capability.¡¯

    ¡®A system built to fail.¡¯ The gorgon mused. ¡®I can see the how of it, but not the why.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, why would you bother? Setting all this up just to have some big monster tear it all down.¡¯ Miz-Mag muttered.

    ¡®That¡¯s what I want to know.¡¯ Mickie said, and started towards the line of lost with machines strapped to their back. It was time to get some answers.

    The branded man felt a little bad about stealing one of the flower collectors from the helpless humans. The man from whom he took it did nothing to resist however, standing still as a statue while they removed the machine from his back. Once the device was gone, its owner promptly turned, and walked away, heading towards somewhere in the city.

    ¡®Where is he going?¡¯ Ziz enquired, neck outstretched to watch the man as he wandered off.

    ¡®Maybe they have replacements somewhere?¡¯ Kalistra wondered. ¡®We can follow another one later and see.¡¯

    The group carried their prize away from the lost, shifting to a free space near the hole¡¯s edge. Mickie handed the machine to Kalistra, and the gorgon got to work looking it over.

    ¡®I can feel power, there¡¯s definitely runes on this somewhere.¡¯

    She said, and pressed something on the device¡¯s side. There was a click and the hatch on top slid open, revealing a small chamber. From what they saw in the flower cave, this was the space in which the blue blossoms were deposited. The gorgon continued to look over the machine, but found no further ways to interact with it.

    ¡®I imagine it needs to interface with the pedestal to deposit what it has collected.¡¯ She mused.

    ¡®Welp, let¡¯s crack it open then.¡¯ Miz-Mag said. ¡®Kid, you¡¯re up.¡¯

    Kalistra passed Mickie the device, and the branded man set it down. He held his right hand out and called forth the dark blade. It materialized in his palm, the cruel curve glinting under the bright city light.

    ¡®Just shave the top off?¡¯

    He asked the gorgon. She gave him a nod, eyeing his weapon warily. Mickie began to channel power into the blade. It shuddered in his hand, and seemed to whisper in his mind. Deep inside Mickie, something stirred, joining the weapon in its silent chorus.

    The branded man rolled his neck, and pushed the urgings away. The blade¡¯s edge had begun to glow bloody red, enough power flowing to it for what he required. Mickie squatted down, and ever so gently, ran his weapon along the top of the device. It slid through the steel with little resistance, like a scalpel along skin.

    As soon as Mickie had completed his slice through the bag he dismissed his weapon. Something about the curved blade felt different from his gun, and it left him uneasy. The whole group leaned in with bated breath as he pulled away the section of cut steel. A crimson glow emanated out of the machine''s interior.

    Runes were inscribed across complicated machinery, pipes snaking in strange directions about two long tanks, like small brass fire hydrants. Kalistra let out a long breath, every strand of her serpentine hair fixated upon the contents.

    ¡®Welp, I think we know where they¡¯re stashing the flower juice.¡¯ Miz-Mag said, nodding at the two cylinders. ¡®You able to read this one Kali?¡¯

    The gorgon did not respond immediately. She continued to examine the runes within the machine, muttering softly under her breath.

    ¡®I¡­ I can read something in this. It is complicated, but not so much as the runes beneath the garden.¡¯

    Kalistra eventually said, turning the device to examine another angle.

    ¡®It¡¯s made to extract from the flower, as we saw, but the methodology is strange.¡¯

    She reached in and ran a finger along a tight, curling line of symbols.

    ¡®These here, they dictate the functionality. The device takes the liquid without breaking the flower''s core.¡¯

    ¡®Is that how they stop the liquid from fading?¡¯

    Mickie asked, recalling their own experiments with the flower¡¯s glowing core. That had seen no effect from the substance, only a rapid diminishing when it was exposed to air.

    ¡®I suppose, whatever the mechanism in here, it clearly contains the power. Perhaps it has something to do with the separation of the two colours.¡¯

    Kalistra said, pausing in thought for a moment before indicating another component coated in runes.

    ¡®Then this part here, I believe it handles said separation.¡¯

    ¡®You believe?¡¯

    Miz-Mag asked, jumping onto the machine¡¯s open side.

    ¡®Yes, there are some runes here that I am unfamiliar with, but from what I can feel, that is the intent.¡¯ She replied, and moved on to the tanks. ¡®And these, well I believe these are rather self explanatory.¡¯

    ¡®Is it safe to remove them?¡¯ Mickie asked, eyeing the red glow emanating from within.

    ¡®As far as I can see it should be.¡¯ The gorgon replied. ¡®The Transcriptions upon the tanks appeared to be focused upon storage rather than processing or defense.¡¯

    ¡®Maybe don¡¯t rip the thing out wholesale though.¡¯ Miz-Mag interjected as its partner stepped forward. ¡®Just in case.¡¯

    Mickie called forth the dark blade again and channelled power into it. The edge glowed crimson, and he carefully used it to slice into one of the metal tanks. Like water from a hose, pressurised silver liquid sprayed right at him. Mickie¡¯s eyes had enough time to widen, before he caught a dose of the silver substance right in the face.

    ¡®Oh, by the blood, kid, you alright?¡¯

    Miz-Mag had leapt clear of the device, watching as the branded man staggered back with a cry. Mickie tasted something strange on his tongue, a tang of iron laced with ice, like licking frozen metal.

    ¡®Yeah, I¡¯m all good.¡¯ He said wiping his face clean with his shirt. ¡®Almost got some in my damned eye.¡¯

    ¡®Any ill effects?¡¯ Kalistra hurried over, leaning in to examine him closely. ¡®No pain or nausea?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m fine.¡¯ Mickie muttered, getting the last of the liquid off his face. ¡®Just didn¡¯t expect it to come flying out at me is all.¡¯

    The branded man turned towards the gorgon, only to find the world did not stop spinning when he did. Mickie staggered, his knees suddenly going weak. Kalistra caught him by the shoulders, which was the only thing that stopped him from falling outright.

    It was strange, the mortal knew something was wrong, yet he did not mind all that much. In fact, he felt relaxed, more relaxed than he ever had in his life. It was as if, at that moment, he no longer needed or wanted for anything. Mickie could not stop the smile that broke out across his face as he went limp in Kalistra¡¯s arms.

    ¡®In all the nine. Kali, something¡¯s wrong. I can feel it through the bond.¡¯ Miz-Mag¡¯s voice sounded distant, as if from another world entirely. ¡®Oh, by the blood, it''s his soul. It''s doing something to his soul.¡¯

    Mickie opened his mouth to reassure the little fiend, yet no sound came out. Talking would take him away from this perfect, simple moment, and the branded man could not make himself speak. Surely they could see he was fine, that for once, he had achieved a semblance of peace.

    ¡®Mickie, can you hear me?¡¯

    Kalistra shook him hard. The mortal hardly felt a thing as he rode on a wave of relaxation. He was rapidly losing touch with the world around him. Not falling asleep, per se, but drifting away upon a sea of his own thoughts. As his companions fretted, Mickie slipped into himself, falling deep. He coasted on the waves of his soul, leaning into their ebb and flow as the relaxation pulled him deeper, wrapping a gentle hand about his mind, and pulling him under.

 40 â€“ One to Sing and One to Shape

    Mickie stood upon a bridge of glittering gold, looking down upon a cavern filled with fire and brimstone. Screams echoed up from below, the chorus of countless mortals. Some begged for forgiveness, others for mercy, many more repented upon their sins, not knowing that it was already too late. Once you were here, there was no going back.

    Hardest on his ears, however, were those who wailed without words. Those beyond anything but the pain, broken beyond repair. Sighing, Mickie stretched out arms coloured a deep shade of red and prepared to head off. Time to clear a bit of space for the new arrivals.

    He strolled along the golden bridge and into a golden building. Mickie continued down a long, winding flight of glittering stairs until the air was thick with heat. He stepped out into the fiery pits, eyes scanning the countless mortals. They were pinned in place by chains of burning gold, bound by the substance which they so cherished in life.

    It was supposed to be poetic, though for the most part Mickie just found it tiresome. The mortals called out to him as he walked the rocky paths above the pits. It was the same screaming and begging he had heard from above, though perhaps a little more directed. Mickie felt nothing at their cries except for a dull feeling of disgust.

    Would silence not be preferable? Or perhaps an end of some kind. If these mortals could die in their last life, then why not let them pass on from this one too. All this endless torment did was hurt Mickie¡¯s ears.

    Soon enough the branded man found what he was looking for amongst the sea of stone and flame. A mortal with a deadened look to them, one whose cries were closer to enthusiastic gurgles then real screams.

    Mickie stopped beside this one¡¯s pit and worked the controls of a large winch embedded in the stone. The heavy chains which bound the mortal clanked and shifted, dragging the sorry creature out of their fiery torment. Freed from pain, this human did not sob or gasp in relief. Instead, they simply fell limp in their bonds, almost as if they were dead.

    Pulling the mortal onto the stone walkway, Mickie undid the chains that bound them, casting the heavy gold aside, ready for use on another sorry soul. He prepared to drag the human to where they kept all the other lost, only for the figure to stir of their own accord. Curious, Mickie waited, watching as the mortal shifted, turned, and eventually stood under their own power.

    Then, without any further prompting, the haggard mortal began to walk away. It was rare that the lost did this, but not unheard of. Sometimes these broken mortals got it into their head to go on a walk, and would wander through Hell as if on some grand expedition. Mickie watched the figure stagger away, thinking that for something that was supposed to be lost, it sure looked like it knew where it was going.

    BIG LINE HERE

    It was closer to gaining clarity that coming awake. Mickie became less aware of himself as the Soul Lord, the fiery pits fading to be replaced by steel walls. He was inside some kind of room, laying down on something that could only have been a bed. Ziz¡¯s big feathery head hung above him one large eye peering into his.

    ¡®Hey.¡¯

    Mickie said, and the bird blinked slowly in his direction.

    ¡®Hello Mik. You shouldn¡¯t be so lazy.''

    ¡®Yeah, my bad.¡¯

    The branded man pushed himself upright. He was indeed on a bed, one of many within a plain metal room. Strangely, the door to the space looked rather worse for wear, closer to a ragged, primordial shaped hole than a rectangle. Mickie eyed his avian companion.

    ¡®You decided to guard me, did you?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. Kali and Mag are doing experiments, so I stayed to watch.¡¯

    The big bird bobbed its head. Mickie pushed himself out of bed and onto his feet.

    ¡®Thanks bud. Seeing as I¡¯m up now, I suppose we should go and find them.¡¯

    Mickie gave the primordial¡¯s neck a grateful pat as he made for the exit. Unlike his usual dream visions, his most recent sojourn into the life of the Soul Lord stayed vivid, as if the events had happened moments ago. For a time, he had actually become Magareem, every thought the dead demon had felt like it had been his own.

    The experience left Mickie feeling tainted, as if the demon¡¯s opinions and worldview had infected his own. Yet, when he thought back to the cause of the vision, that shining, silver substance, he did not experience the twang of revulsion. Instead, he recalled the feeling it had induced, that comfortable contentment he had felt.

    For once, he had been free of the stress, the pain, and the loathing. Free to simply exist for a time in peace. Perhaps if he had just a tiny bit of the substance, it would not bring about the visions. If he just had a little, he would be able to relax without sinking into the visions. Mickie began to wonder if Kalistra still had their last dose on hand, or if he would need to find some more. The flower gatherers were common enough, and by the looks of things, they had spare devices. It would not be an issue if he¡­

    Mickie froze mid step in the doorway out of the room, cool ice abruptly sliding down his spine. He had just been thinking about how terrible that vision had been, yet already he was considering exposing himself to more of the silver liquid. It made no sense, and yet, in a way, it also did. The metallic taste returned to him, the sense of relaxation. Mickie was not an idiot, he could moderate the amount he was exposed to, and his healing could handle any harmful effects, even if it was a little damaged.

    ¡®Mik, are you okay?¡¯

    Ziz asked from behind him. The branded man started, realising he had paused in the doorway of the room.

    ¡®Yeah, I¡¯m alright. Just spaced out for a second is all.¡¯

    He stepped out of the room and through the damaged door of the building. Kalistra and Ziz were nearby, examining a stationary lost on the side of the road. As Mickie approached, he heard low whispers, and thought the pair were talking to one another. Only, it was just one voice that was speaking, and not one that belonged to the gorgon or demon.

    ¡®Mary-Bell said she pick some up from the store. Shouldn¡¯t have been more than an hour. I¡¯ll sing to the roses then, maybe they¡¯ll understand. If and when the thorns sharpen, then I will know¡­¡¯

    It was the lost, a haggard man with a voice that rasped as raw as sandpaper. Mickie paused mid step as he approached, listening to the mortal speak. They rambled on without pause, stringing together sentences of what seemed to be pure nonsense.

    ¡®Oh kid, you¡¯re up. About damn time.¡¯

    Miz-Mag had noticed Mickie, and was scrambling along the ground to reach him.

    ¡®Yeah I¡¯m up.¡¯ He said, still focused on the rambling lost. ¡®What¡¯s going on with that guy?¡¯

    ¡®Little experiment.¡¯ His partner said, scrambling up Mickie¡¯s body to take up its usual spot. ¡®Kali dosed him up with a bit of the silver stuff, just to see how he reacts.¡¯

    The branded man felt a sudden and inexplicable flare of irritation at that. The thought that any of the liquid would go to waste on another made him angry. Yet at the same time, he knew that Kalistra was right to test the substance. They needed to understand what it was.

    ¡®Welcome back.¡¯ The gorgon asked, a few strands of hair turned in his direction. ¡®Not feeling any adverse effects?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m fine.¡¯ Mickie said, too quickly. He took a slow breath to steady himself. ¡®I¡¯m fine. It¡¯s out of my system now.¡¯

    Both Kalistra and Miz-Mag paused for a moment, seemingly unconvinced.

    ¡®Well.¡¯ The gorgon eventually said. ¡®I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alright. We thought, well you were saying some strange things.¡¯

    Mickie stiffened. ¡®I was talking?¡¯

    ¡®Yes.¡¯ Ziz said, having reached them. ¡®You kept talking about something being too noisy, that you just wanted some peace and quiet.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah kid.¡¯ Miz-Mag gave him a long stare. ¡®What was that all about?¡¯

    Mickie winced, remembering the screams of the countless souls burning. He had yet to discuss his visions with the others, and now did not seem the right time.

    ¡®Bad dream is all.¡¯ He said, and turned towards the ragged mortal, still muttering away nearby. ¡®Bit like what¡¯s happening to this guy I think.¡¯

    ¡®Right.¡¯ Kalistra said, not sounding entirely convinced. ¡®Though what you were saying was a bit more coherent than this lost.¡¯

    ¡®Any clue as to what the substance actually is?¡¯ He asked, glancing around for the collection device. Mickie found it not far from the feet of the lost, and a thrill ran through him.

    ¡®I¡¯ve got a few thoughts, based on what happened to you and out test subject.¡¯ Kalistra said, her voice becoming more energetic. ¡®First of all, it¡¯s definitely some kind of sedative. Ingesting even a small amount appears to induce lethargy.¡¯

    ¡®Not lethargy, not completely.¡¯ The branded man interrupted. ¡®It¡¯s closer to simple relaxation.¡¯

    ¡®Truly? It did not make you tired or exhausted?¡¯ Kalistra turned hey eyeless gaze to him.

    ¡®No, it was strange. I felt really relaxed, like nothing could bother me. It was less like I passed out, and more like I fell into my own mind, more like I was¡­¡¯

    Mickie trailed of as a realisation came to him. Ever since the vision ended, he had felt slightly off. The silver liquid had played on his mind continuously, and he was growing far too easily irritated at those around him. He was a fool for not seeing it sooner.

    ¡®Like you were what kid?¡¯ Miz-Mag asked, prodding him in the neck.

    ¡®Like I was high.¡¯ He turned sharply to Kalistra. ¡®It¡¯s a drug. Ever since I came to, I¡¯ve been thinking about it non-stop, wanting to try some more. Not just that, but I¡¯ve been feeling irritable and annoyed.¡¯

    ¡®Symptoms of withdrawal.¡¯ Kalistra murmured, nodding slowly. ¡®Not a sedative then, but a hallucinogen, and a strong one.¡¯

    ¡®Exactly, I hardly had any at all, just one tiny dose, yet that¡¯s all it took to just for the stuff to get its hooks in me.¡¯

    Mickie began to pace. He could still feel the pull of the silver drug, but now he knew the reason behind it, he was better able to resist. Hopefully the feeling would fade soon.

    ¡®So, a drug then, and not a normal one either.¡¯ The gorgon mused. ¡®Tell me Mickie, do you recall feeling anything from your soul when you were under its effects?¡¯

    ¡®My soul? Not particularly.¡¯ The branded man replied.

    ¡®How strange, the effect must be subtle then, if even the recipient does not notice it.¡¯ Kalistra seemed pensive as Miz-Mag stirred. ¡®That stuff definitely did something to your soul kid, I could feel it through our connection.¡¯

    ¡®A soul deep relaxation perhaps? That might explain why the lost react the way they do.¡¯ The gorgon said, indicating the haggard mortal, still muttering with their eyes closed.

    Ziz, who had been eyeing the strange lost, shifted its attention to Kalistra. ¡®I don¡¯t understand.¡¯

    ¡®Same here Kali.¡¯ Miz-Mag agreed.

    ¡®Well.¡¯ The gorgon said slowly. ¡®It has to do with the nature of the lost, and more specifically, the nature of their souls.¡¯

    She tapped her scaly fingers against her thigh.

    ¡®When a mortal becomes one of the lost, it is a process that involves the shattering of a mind and fraying of a soul. It is why they appear so emaciated in a realm where food is not required. Here, the body reflects the soul.¡¯

    Miz-Mag gave a contemplative hum. ¡®Right, I get that. They look like shit because they¡¯re souls look like shit. Doesn¡¯t tell me why the drug has them talkin¡¯ nonsense.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m getting to that.¡¯ Kalistra replied with a sigh. ¡®We know that the hallucinogen impacts the soul, likely calming it. For the lost, this would be like balm to a wound, or perhaps more aptly, water to a desert. The drug likely gives them some of themselves back for a time.¡¯

    ¡®So, their stuff their saying¡­¡¯ Mickie muttered.

    ¡®Memories.¡¯ The gorgon finished for him. ¡®Fragments of who the lost once was resurfacing.¡¯

    The rambling of the ragged man suddenly held far more significance. Mickie listened for a time, trying to deduce who this person might have once been. He caught snippets within the mostly nonsensical mumbling, names and locations, repeated enough to be significant.

    ¡®Weird.¡¯ Miz-Mag eventually commented. ¡®So, is that how they¡¯re controlling the lost then? Using this drug?¡¯

    There was a moment of silence as Kalistra thought over the idea.

    ¡®No, I don¡¯t think so. I don¡¯t see how the soothing of a soul could lead to that kind of¡­ automated control.¡¯

    She started, a thought coming to her.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡®Although, Mickie, you mentioned the substance was addictive?¡¯

    Kalistra waited for the branded man to nod before continuing.

    ¡®Well then, were we not just considering why the substance is dumped into the pipes for the monster?¡¯

    Realisation struck Mickie like a hammer. He had completely forgotten about the beast in the aftermath of his vision. Now though, he saw it. A system to keep a monster caged, and the mechanism by which it was unleashed upon the world.

    ¡®It¡¯s addicted.¡¯ He muttered. ¡®Addicted to the drug.¡¯

    ¡®Indeed.¡¯ Kalistra¡¯s reply was grim. ¡®If this drug acts as I think it does, it would take quite a bit to effect a creature of that size. Though the amount we saw should do it.¡¯

    ¡®And I bet it¡¯s built up a tolarance too. Takes a while for the drug to take hold. That¡¯s why it still managed to get so worked up when we pulled out the light.¡¯ Mickie ran his hands through his hair. ¡®The big guy probably would have given up with or without the lamp once the drug took hold.¡¯

    ¡®Maybe kid.¡¯ Miz-Mag said. ¡®Or maybe the stinker¡¯s so used to the stuff now it can just keep on pushing through.¡¯

    ¡®Either way, now we know what¡¯s going to happen the next time it goes dark.¡¯ Mickie continued. ¡®I doubt a monster that needs its fix is going to play nice.¡¯

    They all shared grim looks as Kalistra and Miz-Mag¡¯s sorry test subject continued to ramble on the side of the road.

    ¡®Didn¡¯t you hear Mary-Bell? They call for us to come, they call for us to speak. I cannot remember the words though. Those terrible, hateful words. Perhaps you might.¡¯

    BIG LINE HERE

    Now that Mickie was up, the group decided it would be best to return to the original ruins. Kalistra still wished to study the runes there, and it would make for a secluded base from which they could poke at the flower collector¡¯s second tank.

    The walk back brought the four companions back through the city centre, right by the ruins of the metal platform. Mickie¡¯s eyes tracked the queue of flower gatherers standing idle, so long now it almost reached a connecting street. His attention shifted to those repairing the broken structure, wondering just how long it would take them to make it usable. His dark thoughts were interrupted by Miz-Mag¡¯s squeaky voice.

    ¡®So Kali, you got any clue what our big friend actually is? I¡¯ve learnt of a fair few monsters in my time, but I don¡¯t know where to start with that giant.¡¯

    ¡®Maybe.¡¯ The gorgon said. ¡®I¡¯ve had some thoughts, though nothing that quite matches with your description.¡¯

    ¡®So you¡¯ve been holding out on us then, spill it.¡¯ The demon stood up on its partner¡¯s shoulder, excited. Mickie also had to admit he was interested; it would be good to know what was going to come screaming after them next time the lights went out.

    ¡®Like I said. It is nothing that matches with your description.¡¯ Kalistra sighed. ¡®But if you must know, I thought it sounded like a Hecatoncheires.¡¯

    ¡®A what now?¡¯ Miz-Mag asked, taken aback.

    ¡®Hecatoncheires. They are an old creature, older even than my kind. Titans of immense strength, they are said to have one hundred arms and fifty heads.¡¯

    The gorgon¡¯s description brought back the memory of arms reaching up through the darkness, and the glimmer of countless eyes below.

    ¡®That fits.¡¯ Mickie said. ¡®It was definitely big enough to be called a titan.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, some of the description fits. Though there are holes, characteristics that have never been attributed to the Hecatoncheires.¡¯ The group exited the city centre, heading along a straight street as Kalistra continued. ¡®Firstly, its fixation with your lamp. As far as I am aware the old titans had no issue with light. These certainly would not be enough to keep it at bay.¡¯

    She nodded up at the lights hanging from the ceiling. ¡®Next up was your mention of having glimpsed fur. The Hecatoncheires resembled mortals, some might have had hair, but fur is unlikely.¡¯

    ¡®I see.¡¯ Mickie said pensively. ¡®And there¡¯s no chance one of these Hecatoncheires could have developed a fear of light? Or maybe adapted to the darkness in the sixth circle?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ Miz-Mag chimed in. ¡®And that fur could have been clothing or something.¡¯

    ¡®No, not clothing. I saw it on the body.¡¯ Ziz said, turning its head to regard them.

    ¡®See what I mean. It doesn¡¯t quite fit.¡¯ Kalistra put a hand to her face, as if to itch her empty eye sockets. She stopped short with a grimace. ¡®I think if the monster were a Hecatoncheires, it would be more likely to make a den of this city then hide from it.¡¯

    ¡®Well, I still say it could have been clothes. Whatever bird brain thinks.¡¯ Miz-Mag grumbled, giving the primordial a dirty look.

    They continued to speculate without much success, eventually making their way back to the half-broken stretch of buildings and overgrown green spaces. Reaching the only garden that held a semblance of order, the group found its resident lost in his usual spot, rigid on the park bench. Kalistra set down the open flower gathering device, careful not to spill any silver liquid from its punctured tank.

    ¡®Well.¡¯ She said, straightening to face the rest of the group. ¡®Shall we see what else the flower has to offer?¡¯

    They all agreed, and Mickie approached the machine, blade in hand. He glanced into its rune encrusted insides, and caught a glimmer of silver within. The hunger it brought on was sudden, fierce, but also expected. With an effort of will he pulled his eyes away, turning to the other tank.

    ¡®Everybody ready?¡¯

    After receiving a chorus of ascent, the branded man raised his blade, and jabbed it into the steel cylinder. He had already been standing to one side and swiftly danced away at the sight of gleaming liquid. A small spray of blue arced into the air, before falling harmlessly onto the garden soil. There came a collective release of tense breaths from somewhere behind him.

    ¡®Well kid, I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t pass out this time.¡¯ Miz-Mag scurried over, carefully avoid any drops of the blue liquid. The little fiend clambered up the side of the device and peered inside.

    ¡®That¡¯s definitely the blue stuff.¡¯ It said, ¡®At least we found it.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, might be your turn to have a taste, aye Mag?¡¯ Mickie said, dismissing his weapon. The little demon tossed a rude gesture his way.

    ¡®I have some initial things I would like to test.¡¯ Kalistra said, coming to stand beside them. Once I¡¯ve done that, we can locate somebody to test the substance on.¡¯

    Everyone but Ziz, who had decided a nap was preferable, watched on as Kalistra got to work. The gorgon located a few bent scraps of metal. She used a large one as a bowl, and two others as scoops to extract liquid from both of the machine¡¯s tanks. Into the bowl went a dash of each substance, glimmering as they dribbled down to eventually make contact. The instance they did, both streams of colour went inert, shifting and mixing like water.

    ¡®Woah.¡¯ Miz-Mag murmured.

    ¡®Indeed.¡¯ Kalistra gingerly reached a hand out and poked the mixture, eliciting no reaction. ¡®This is what we saw when testing the flowers themselves. I thought this might happen from my examination of the machine¡¯s runes.¡¯

    ¡®Is it exposure to air or something? They were fine mixing in the flowers.¡¯ Mickie asked.

    ¡®Perhaps.¡¯ Kalistra slid the makeshift bowl aside, tipping its contents onto the soil. ¡®Or it could be that the flower itself works to keep them from going inert. That would explain why picking the flower causes the mixing to happen at a slower rate.¡¯

    Over the next half hour or so, the gorgon tried a variety of tests on the blue and silver liquids. She varied the volumes that mixed, she tipped some of each substance on plants in the garden, and even tried burying it in the soil. It was not until an experiment was run on the exposed runes that they saw something new.

    Using her makeshift scoop, Kalistra tipped a tiny portion of the blue liquid onto the exposed markings. It splashed into a puddle, but did not settle as normal water might. Instead, the shimmering blue began to quiver. Then it began to move, tendrils of liquid spliting from the central mass and spreading outwards. They bent and curved forming a shape, something that look very much like the runes upon with they sat.

    ¡®Amazing.¡¯ Kalistra breathed. ¡®I¡¯ve never seen anything of the like.¡¯

    ¡®What is it doing?¡¯ Mickie asked, watching as the tendrils of blue shifted, moving in an ever-changing dance between shapes.

    ¡®It is reacting. Reacting to the runes and their intent.¡¯ The gorgon laughed in delight. ¡®But of course it is, these liquids are tied to the soul. It is not surprising that things imbued with the soul would cause a reaction.¡¯

    Hurriedly, before any of them could utter a question, she scooped up a bit of the silver liquid, dropping it onto another part of the runes. This substance reacted as normal however, spilling over the crimson symbols. Kalistra gave a thoughtful hum as she regarded the difference.

    ¡®No change. But that is not entirely unexpected.¡¯

    Miz-Mag cleared its throat, interrupting the gorgon¡¯s train of thought.

    ¡®Hey Kali, mind catching the rest of us up to speed?¡¯

    ¡®What? Oh, right.¡¯ Kalistra started, a few strands of her serpentine hair turning to peer at them. ¡®You know how water will disperse to fill the cracks of the container in which it is poured?¡¯

    ¡®Sure.¡¯ The little demon said.

    ¡®Well, this blue liquid appears to serve the same purpose, but for the soul.¡¯ She explained, then sighed at her companion¡¯s confused expressions. The gorgon cast about for something to help her convey what she meant, settling on the silver liquid resting atop the runes.

    ¡®There, you see how the substance flows into the transcription, taking its physical shape? Well, the blue substance is doing the same, but instead the intent of the runes are the channels upon which it runs, and the shape that it takes.¡¯

    Something about Kalistra¡¯s use of the words channels made Mickie think of his own powers. When he looked inside himself, deep into the realm of his soul, he could see their shape. Just like Kalistra was saying, his abilities had paths upon which his power could flow.

    ¡®Right, I think I get it.¡¯ Miz-Mag said, definitely not sounding like it got it. ¡®So, the blue stuff can read runes then. What use is that?¡¯

    ¡®Well, that depends.¡¯ The gorgon glanced at the shifting liquid. ¡®We¡¯ll have to see what happens once it is done.¡¯

    ¡®Done?¡¯ Miz-Mag asked.

    ¡®Yes, just as water will eventually fill all the cracks in a bowl, this liquid will eventually fold into the intent of the runes. Do you see how it is slowing?¡¯

    Indeed, the blue blob was becoming more sluggish in the shifting of its tendrils. Over the next minute or so, it continued to change shape, before abruptly going limp. The arms of liquid retracted, leaving a single, unblemished button of blue.

    ¡®Intent had been read and accounted for. Now we shall see.¡¯

    Kalistra murmured and scooped up the stilled liquid with a piece of scrap metal. It seemed more viscous to Mickie, in a state between water and jelly. The gorgon got it all onto her makeshift spoon and held it high, examining it with every strand of her serpentine hair.

    ¡®Consistency holds even after contact is broken.¡¯

    ¡®Meaning?¡¯ Miz-Mag asked, leaning forward on Mickie¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡®Meaning that the liquid holds intent even after parting from the runes.¡¯ Kalistra said, her voice going soft. ¡®Using our prior analogy, this would be like if we froze the water, then removed it from the container. It now holds the shape, without needing the mould.¡¯

    Their serpentine companion released a breath, shaky with excitement.

    ¡®I think I know now how the lost are instructed on what to do.¡¯

    ¡®You do?¡¯ Mickie took a step forward. Kalistra nodded, slowly her free hand to point at the nearby park bench, indicating that ragged man who sat upon it.

    ¡®Do you recall what that lost said to us?¡¯ She asked. Mickie and Miz-Mag glanced at one another. The branded man shrugged while the demon answered.

    ¡®Kinda. Something about the beast right?¡¯

    ¡®Not just the beast.¡¯ Kalistra said. ¡®He also spoke of strings; One which sings and one which shapes. I believe he was referring to the mechanism which guides the lost.¡¯

    ¡®The liquids.¡¯ Mickie realised with a start, staring at the dollop of glowing blue. ¡®He was talking about the two liquids.¡¯

    ¡®Exactly.¡¯ Kalistra said with a smile. ¡®The one which sings must refer to the hallucinogen. A lullaby for the soul, perhaps. That leaves the one which shapes¡¯

    The gorgon raised her makeshift spoon. ¡®Tell me, what do you think would happen if I were to ingest this liquid?¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯d be like drinking the runes.¡¯ Miz-Mag cursed at the realisation. ¡®And if this stuff hits the soul like the silver one does¡­¡¯

    ¡®Then it would impart the intent of the runes directly into the soul, likely compelling the recipient to abide by said intent.¡¯ Kalistra finished.

    There was a brief silence as the revelation sunk in.

    ¡®One thing though.¡¯ Mickie said slowly, ordering his thoughts. ¡®These lost, the ones that maintain the city, they¡¯ve been at it for a while.¡¯

    The others turned the branded man¡¯s way as he continued.

    ¡®And when I took a hit of the silver, its effect only lasted a few hours. If the same is true of this stuff, then the lost would need to be on a constant feed of it. I don¡¯t know about you guys, but I haven¡¯t seen anything like that so far.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, you¡¯re right kid. This is a first time I¡¯ve seen the blue.¡¯ Miz-Mag hummed in thought. ¡®Maybe we just haven¡¯t seen the mortals getting their hit.¡¯

    ¡®A good point, and a reminder that we should not be too hasty in drawing conclusions.¡¯ Kalistra turned the scrap metal in her hands, watching as the liquid shifted within. ¡®This will require further investigation. If we trail one of the lost, they may lead us to what we are looking for.¡¯

    ¡®Not a bad idea.¡¯ Miz-Mag said. ¡®Or we could, you know, try it out and see what happens.¡¯

    The others glanced in the direction the little demon was nodding, right towards the garden¡¯s only lost. Kalistra contemplated the idea, beginning to nod along. Mickie though, was struck with a sudden and rather fierce opposition to the idea.

    ¡®No.¡¯ He found himself saying, before really knowing why. As the others turned his way the branded man paused, taking a moment to think through his objections. ¡®No. Testing the other drug was one thing. I¡¯d already had some, and you could see that I was fine. This new stuff though, we have no clue what it¡¯s going to do.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, exactly.¡¯ Miz-Mag said, sounding confused. ¡®That¡¯s the point of testing it on some lost shmuck.¡¯

    ¡®I think.¡¯ Kalistra said softly. ¡®Mickie is trying to say that we should not test the drug on the lost because we do not understand it.¡¯

    Mickie shifted his attention to the gorgon, and found that, oddly enough, she was smiling at him.

    ¡®Yeah, that¡¯s dead on.¡¯ He sighed, knowing Miz-Mag was not going to like the idea. ¡®These lost, they¡¯re helpless. They¡¯ve clearly already had something done to them, something that turned them into slaves. Cramming this shit down their throats on top of that, it just isn¡¯t right.¡¯

    He glanced at the fiend on his shoulder, to find Miz-Mag staring wide eyed at him.

    ¡®You¡¯ll torture a demon for information.¡¯ The little demon breathed. ¡®But you won¡¯t let some half dead mortal take a sip of happy juice? Are you going soft or something kid?¡¯

    ¡®Not soft, it¡¯s just¡­¡¯ His attention shifted back to the ragged mortal seated on the park bench. Even outside of Hell, Mickie felt he had seen countless just like him. ¡®It¡¯s just that I have lines I don¡¯t want to cross.¡¯

    It felt good to say that out loud, affirming in a way. The sort of thing someone who was more than just a hollow shell would say.

    ¡®Well then, our dearest moral guide.¡¯ Miz-Mag said, dryly. ¡®How would you suggest we test the effects of our newest concoction.¡¯

    Mickie thought about that, although not for very long.

    ¡®I could try it.¡¯ He said with a shrug, earning a cough and splutter from the demon on his shoulder.

    ¡®You?¡¯ Miz-Mag barked out. ¡®What kind of stupid idea is that? What¡¯ll you do if it¡¯s poisonous? Or if you end up stomping around the city scrubbing floors?¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll happen.¡¯ The branded man said. ¡®We¡¯re almost certain we know what this drug does, and we only imbued it with some random runes on the floor. It¡¯ll be fine, right?¡¯

    He turned to Kalistra for support. The gorgon however, appeared hesitant. Her hair strands shifted about, glancing between him and the glowing blue liquid.

    ¡®I¡­ I don¡¯t know Mickie. While I am certain that this will not do anything so bad as Miz-Mag suggests, I do not think you should ingest it.¡¯

    She said, and Miz-Mag gave a little shout of victory.

    ¡®See kid, what I tell you?¡¯

    ¡®Instead.¡¯ Kalistra continued. ¡®I believe it would be best if I were the one to test the substance.¡¯

    The little fiend stopped short with a grunt, swivelling its head to give Kalistra a look. Across the garden Ziz stirred, having apparently not been quite as asleep as first thought.

    ¡®You should not.¡¯

    The primordial said, rising slowly to stomp over.

    ¡®I really think I should.¡¯ Kalistra said. ¡®I am the one who knows the most about Transcriptions, and I also currently have the most effective ability to heal. If anyone is going to try this substance, then it should be me.¡¯

    ¡®What happened to giving to the lost!¡¯ Miz-Mag cried, and was promptly ignored.

    ¡®You are not the best at healing.¡¯ Ziz said, its long neck stretching out. ¡®I am.¡¯

    Then fast as a snake, the primordial¡¯s head blurred downward. Before any of them could react, it¡¯s hooked beak closed about the metal in Kalistra¡¯s hand, slowing it and the blue liquid whole. There was a moment, an extended silence in which they all watched Ziz tilt its head back and swallow the drug.

    ¡®Tastes good.¡¯ The avian declared.

    ¡®You¡­ you¡­¡¯ Kalistra stuttered. ¡®I was going to section off a smaller portion¡­¡¯

    ¡®Too late now.¡¯ Miz-Mag muttered, almost as an afterthought. They were all too busy watching Ziz for some kind of reaction. For the most part, the big bird seemed impressed with itself, eyeing them all smugly as they stared in apprehension.

    ¡®Hmm. It is oily.¡¯

    The oversized avian said, moments before Kalistra gasped.

    ¡®I can feel it, through the bond.¡¯

    Ziz ruffled its feathers in sudden discomfort, almost as if it were trying to shake something loose.

    ¡®It is covering me, feels strange.¡¯

    Kalistra, locked in concentration, translated the primordial¡¯s vague mutterings.

    ¡®I can sense it, the substance is encircling Ziz¡¯s soul. It¡¯s not quite entrapment, closer to submersion in a liquid.¡¯

    ¡®Yes. It wants, it wants me to gather, to pull.¡¯ The bird said, shifting in discomfort. ¡®It says to move downwards, to fall and spin and twist. There is something else too, something beyond. If I reach¡­¡¯

    ¡®No Ziz, do not!¡¯ Kalistra cried, but it was too late.

    There came a thrum, and the runes on the floor nearby pulsed a deeper crimson glow. The city shuddered, quaking as if from a shaky breath. Far overhead, attached to the distance ceiling, the lights flickered briefly. Then it was over, Ziz cawing out in alarm, whipping its head back and forth as the world settled around them.

    Mickie and Miz-Mag waited with batted breath for their companions to break the silence. Kalistra seemed utterly stunned, fists clenched and hair writhing. Oddly enough it was Ziz who settled first, projecting a shaky few words into the air.

    ¡®I felt it. In the pipes. I felt it.¡¯

    ¡®Felt what bud?¡¯ Mickie asked, taking a small step towards the rattled primordial.

    ¡®A place of power.¡¯ Kalistra answered, her voice soft with both fear and excitement. ¡®There is a place of power here.¡¯

    The gorgon turned empty eye sockets upon Mickie and Miz-Mag.

    ¡®And to reach it, we will have to enter the pipes.¡¯

    As if in answer, there came a distant roar, followed by the booming sound of heavy footsteps.

 41 â€“ Under the Skin

    The house was three stories tall, same as all the others. Each level had a single hall connecting to a stairwell, linking four identical rooms containing ten rigid and uncomfortable mattresses. Mickie hardly spent more than a moment glancing into each as he darted up and down the staircase. He and his companions had found that each building within the city was built to serve a function, a mould to which the interior was shaped. This one was a barracks, and as such was identical to every other barracks they had encountered so far.

    The branded man made his way outside, to a street filled with ragged mortals, all shuffling about silently, like ants in a nest. Nearby a tall woman with serpentine hair exited another building, and Mickie made his way over to her.

    ¡®Anything?¡¯ He asked.

    The woman¡¯s hair shifted, a few small snakes swivelling to regard him as the others observed the street around them.

    ¡®Nothing of note. Another storage building for spare equipment, and you?¡¯

    ¡®Barracks.¡¯

    Mickie said with a sigh, glancing towards the distant city centre. It had been days since Ziz consumed the blue drug, a substance infused with the hidden runes they had discovered within the city.  In doing so the primordial had uncovered a place of power, and now both it and Kalistra were bound to seek it out.

    To that end, they had started a thorough investigation of the city, with the hopes of finding some other way of fulfilling Kalistra¡¯s obligations. So far however, they had uncovered nothing but block upon block of identical buildings.

    An elderly looking man with hollow cheeks and matted hair shuffled by the duo, a bucket of cleaning supplies held loosely in one hand. The branded man watched him go, feeling a familiar pang of pity for the lost soul.

    ¡®Still no sign of the blue junk. I¡¯m beginning to think this lot don¡¯t need any additional hits.¡¯

    He said, focusing upon the task at hand.

    ¡®I believe you might be right.¡¯ Kalistra said with a sigh. ¡®There is likely some other factor at play here, something that makes the intent instilled upon the lost more than temporary.¡¯

    Mickie nodded and threw a glance towards the city centre.

    ¡®What¡¯s the bet it has something to do with that place of power?¡¯

    ¡®Almost assured, seeing as the new place of power appears to be tied to whatever deeper function this city serves.¡¯

    Kalistra said as the pair started down the street. They had inspected their final buildings for the day and were heading back to the garden within the ruined section of the city. The place had become something of a refuge for them, a spot they could rest, away from the endless stream of lost.

    Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a distant, booming groan. It resonated through the steel beneath Mickie¡¯s feet, sending minute vibrations up his body. Another side effect of Ziz¡¯s consumption of the drug, and one they had long since grown accustomed to.

    ¡®You know, I¡¯ve been thinking about that.¡¯ Mickie said after the city had settled.

    ¡®Oh?¡¯ The gorgon did not turn, but he felt her attention shift onto him.

    ¡®Ever since you realised that our talkative lost mentioned the two drugs, I¡¯ve been trying to recall some of the other things that he said.¡¯

    ¡®The soul forge.¡¯ Kalistra murmured, knowing the directions of his thoughts.

    ¡®Yep, I can¡¯t help but think it¡¯s more than a coincidence that we find two drugs which impact the soul, and have them mentioned alongside something called a soul forge.¡¯ He said, stepping out of the street and into the city centre. Ragged mortals scurried about as they always did, with the ranks of mining lost standing in their idle rows.

    ¡®I have also been thinking about this.¡¯ The gorgon said. ¡®If there is indeed something within this place capable of altering a soul, it would explain why the lost do not need additional doses of the blue substance.¡¯

    Kalistra let out a slow breath. ¡®I just wish there was some way we could find out without needing to enter the pipes.¡¯

    Mickie nodded in response, and the pair fell into silence. In the wake of his companion¡¯s last comment, the branded man¡¯s thoughts turned inwards, to the dreams he had been having recently. When Mickie accidently consumed the silver liquid, he had thought that the vision it produced was the extent of its impact.

    Except, ever since then, his dreams had gained clarity. Mickie now woke with a distinct recollection of his time as the Soul Lord. From what he had gathered, he seemed to be seeing snippets of the demon¡¯s life before its rise to power. Magareem appeared to administer some form of torment within hell, on what Mickie guessed was the fourth circle.

    While that was interesting in and of itself, stranger still was the Soul Lord¡¯s temperament. Rather than confident and powerful, the fiend seemed tired. The only thing that seemed to interest it at all was the lost. This fixation was the focal point of each vision, and Mickie was becoming increasingly certain it was because of this city.

    He had no evidence as to why, but the branded man felt in his gut that the originator of his mark was connected to this place. If he was right, then that would mean the key to unravelling the city¡¯s secrets might lie not in the present, but the past.

    ¡®I am sorry for dragging you and Miz-Mag into this.¡¯ Kalistra said, pulling Mickie from his thoughts. ¡®I know we should be searching for a way out of the Labyrinth instead of seeking its depths.¡¯

    ¡®No need to apologise, it''s not as if we had a way out ready to go.¡¯ The branded man gave a bitter laugh. ¡®Besides, something tells me we were going to get dragged into the deep end with or without your bond making us do so. That just seems to be how things go down here.¡¯

    Kalistra nodded. ¡®It certainly does. After you exerted control over the tower, I had expected our ascent to be smooth. It seems foolish in retrospect.¡¯

    ¡®We can always hope.¡¯ Mickie said with a shrug. ¡®At least now you can get your eyes back.¡¯

    The gorgon stiffened slightly. ¡®Yes.¡¯ She said. ¡®If my bond returns them to me.¡¯

    They stepped out of the city centre and onto the street leading to the ruined section. In the distance, there came a heavy screech, like the sound of some great monster¡¯s death throes.

    ¡®It would appear Ziz is still hard at work.¡¯ Kalistra said, seeming eager to change the subject. ¡®I wonder if it has uncovered anything new?¡¯

    ¡®I thought the pair of you already linked up to runes when you were drugged up?¡¯ Mickie swerved around a shuffling cleaner.

    ¡®We did, but connecting to the system like that¡­¡¯ Kalistra thought on the right words for a moment. ¡®It¡¯s indistinct. I get the broad intent behind it all, but that¡¯s like understanding that someone is happy or sad.¡¯

    The pair stepped off the neat road and onto the jagged path of the ruins.

    ¡®It¡¯s possible to read the emotions on someone¡¯s face.¡¯ The gorgon continued. ¡®But it is not so simple to discern the why and how of those emotions.¡¯

    There came another screech and tear, followed by a long squawk. Mickie waited for the clammer to cease before speaking.

    ¡®Right, so you¡¯re getting Ziz to dig up the runes to find out what it¡¯s all for.¡¯

    ¡®I hoped that we might be able to use our prior connection to decipher the meaning.¡¯ Kalistra said as they rounded another corner. ¡®So far though, we are not having much luck.¡¯

    Ahead of the pair was the tangled garden they had been calling home, and it was in far worse shape than when they had arrived. Large swathes of earth and plant life had been shifted aside, revealing an expanse of glowing scrawl beneath. Near a large mound of dirt, the garden¡¯s resident lost stood, staring silently at the ground in a way Mickie interpreted as mournful.

    The revealed runes twisted their way in confusing lines through the garden and onto the connecting street. It was there that Ziz had really gotten to work. The already cracked and warped steel of the road had been levered and torn aside to uncover more of the scrawl. A red glow formed a branching path along the shredded road, terminating at the body of a feathered primordial.

    Ziz seemed to have cleared the way right up to where the street ended, cut off abruptly by a toppled steel building. The big bird was hunched low before the structure, seemingly taken by something out of sight. Mickie and Kalistra approached slowly, picking their way through piles of sharp debris.

    Occasionally, the gorgon would pause a bit longer than was required, no doubt taking a moment to examine the twisted shapes of the runes. Mickie had been surprised when, after she had recovered from connecting to the runes, Kalistra had proclaimed there was more to see. Without delay she had begun to dig up the garden, and soon passed the task along to her eager partner.

    ¡®Hey bud, what are you up to?¡¯

    Mickie called out after Ziz failed to look up at their approach, uncharacteristic of the normally sociable bird.

    ¡®Found something.¡¯

    Was all the avian said in response, shifting on the ground but not looking in their direction. Kalistra found her footing was suddenly sure, and the duo closed quickly upon their feathered companion.

    Walking about the primordial¡¯s bulk, Mickie discovered that Ziz had managed to clear the road right up until the fallen building. In doing so, it had uncovered something entirely new. The rune carved steel twisted along like normal, parallel to the broken road that once covered it. Then, without much warning, it fell away, right where the street met the warped mound of fallen steel.

    Ziz had its long neck stuck into a hole, one which glowed with crimson light. Mickie and Kalistra stopped short beside the primordial, slack jawed. There came a sudden pressure upon the branded man¡¯s shoulder, and a squeaky voice filled the silence.

    ¡®Heyo, done for the day are we? What a shame.¡¯ Miz-Mag, having just returned from its rest, soon noticed what they had. ¡®Hey uh, kid, what¡¯s bird brain up to?¡¯

    ¡®Found a hole.¡¯ Ziz said, sounding rather proud of itself.

    ¡®That you did bud.¡¯ Mickie shook himself from his stupor and took a step forward. ¡®Are those more runes that I see inside?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. The hole is filled with them.¡¯ The primordial finally withdrew its head from the ground, turning to eye them. ¡®But I can¡¯t fit.¡¯ It complained, nodding at the fallen building.

    ¡®I thought you were getting a little chunky.¡¯ Miz-Mag snickered, receiving a glare in return.

    Throughout the entire exchange, Kalistra had stared at the hole like it was an open chest of gleaming gold. She took a slow, halting step towards the opening, then another. Mickie reached out and caught the gorgon¡¯s arm before she dove right in.

    ¡®Hold on a moment. Should we really be heading down there?¡¯

    ¡®I, well¡­ look.¡¯ Kalistra sounded almost pleading. ¡®The new runes and Transcriptions on this street alone. If the tunnel is filled with them¡­¡¯

    ¡®Uh oh, we¡¯ve set the rune nut off.¡¯ Miz-Mag commented as Mickie released their companion. The branded man eyed the hole with a touch more caution than Kalistra had, but could see why she wanted to get inside and investigate.

    ¡®You didn¡¯t see anything dangerous in there?¡¯

    He asked Ziz. The big bird shook its head.

    ¡®Nope. Only tunnel.¡¯

    ¡®Well then, I suppose we might as well take a peak.¡¯

    He finished, and Kalistra all but dove headfirst into the crimson hole. Mickie followed more cautiously, Miz-Mag riding atop his shoulder. Taking up the rear was Ziz, the primordial giving them sad eyes as its bulk got lodged in the entrance.

    Glancing around, the branded man could not help but be glad their large friend was unable to follow. The tunnel was not large, perhaps a meter across at its base, though it did slope outwards to about two meters wide at the ceiling. Not quite to the specifications of a primordial.

    The one thing the tunnel did not lack, however, was light. Runes sprawled upon the floor and walls, almost humming with eerie intent. They gave off more than enough light to see by, even if Mickie was not a huge fan of the bloody cast it gave everything.

    Kalistra was nearby, already studying the new script. Mickie figured she was not going to be doing much else for the foreseeable future, and Ziz was still stuck partway into the tunnel. That meant it was going to be Miz-Mag and himself on scouting duty.

    ¡®You guys going to be alright here?¡¯

    He called out. Kalistra nodded vaguely, while Ziz gave a mournful caw. Taking that as assent, the branded man picked a direction and began to walk. He and Miz-Mag followed the curve of the passage, eyes tracing the lines of runes as they twisted up the walls and along the floor. The only section that went untouched was the ceiling. Mickie frowned upwards at it, a thought beginning to occur to him.

    If the roof of this tunnel were to be removed, just as Ziz had done with the street leading to it, then the sloped walls and narrow floor took on a new meaning. Not only that, but Mickie could feel the pull of gravity upon him, making each footfall slightly heavier. As if he were walking downhill.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡®Hey Mag, this tunnel, isn¡¯t it more like a drain or channel or something?¡¯

    The demon on his shoulder shifted.

    ¡®I guess Kid. Except, you know, it ain¡¯t open to the air.¡¯

    We are the skin upon the bones and how we itch. The words came back to Mickie then, spoken by the lost they had left behind in his half-ruined garden.

    ¡®But what if it was?¡¯ The branded man said slowly, following a sharp bend in the tunnel. ¡®I mean, what if the city itself was not here?¡¯

    ¡®What are you getting at?¡¯

    The little demon seemed perplexed. Mickie sighed, gathering his thoughts.

    ¡®You know how Ziz has been digging up these runes right?¡¯

    ¡®Sure, that¡¯s the whole reason we¡¯re down here.¡¯

    ¡®Right, and we¡¯ve seen how those same runes seem to be covered by parts of the city, even the streets and whatnot.¡¯

    ¡®I follow.¡¯ The demon said, then cursed as they took another sharp turn. ¡®By the blood this is a twisty tunnel. Couldn¡¯t they have made the damned thing a little straighter on.¡¯

    Mickie ignored the demon¡¯s complaining.

    ¡®So, if part of the metal beneath the city is covered in runes, would it not be a stretch to say that more of it is?¡¯ He was on a roll now.  ¡®And think about the streets. Why would you bother putting a layer of steel over the runes in the first place? The surface they¡¯re carved into would work just as well for getting around.¡¯

    ¡®So you¡¯re saying the city is built to cover up the runes?¡¯ Miz-Mag sounded sceptical, but Mickie felt pretty sure of his theory.

    ¡®To cover up the runes, or to cover up something else.¡¯

    ¡®Right, and what would that be?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not sure.¡¯ He admitted with a shrug. ¡®Whatever it is though, it¡¯s probably tied to how this whole place operates.¡¯

    The pair rounded yet another corner and stopped short. Just ahead, their tunnel met another couple in an intersection of paths. Not entirely surprising, though it did create the problem of deciding which passage to take.

    Mickie had been noticing for some time now that the tunnel was on a slight slope. After some basic testing he discovered that only one of the paths was further downhill than the others. Deciding that was as good of a reason as any, Mickie continued onwards.

    ¡®Hey kid, you ever noticed that we always seem to stumble across mysterious tunnels?¡¯ Miz-Mag commented once they were underway. ¡®I mean, there was the Mechanist¡¯s passages, the Urchins in the city, then that whole thing with the invisible tower on the seventh.¡¯

    ¡®I suppose.¡¯ Mickie said. ¡®Way I figure it, is that Hell is like a secret sandwich. Things don¡¯t seem to weather away here like they do up top, so when something new comes along, it just gets layered atop the old.¡¯

    His eyes traced the runic patterns as they curved up the side of a wall.

    ¡®We¡¯ve come across a few of the secrets, but how many more have we missed?¡¯

    And just how many did the Soul Lord know about? He thought.

    ¡®Yeah, what did the Conductor call ¡®em again?¡¯ Miz-Mag did not seem to notice his sudden introspection. ¡®Old ways or something?¡¯

    ¡®The Old Paths.¡¯ Mickie corrected. ¡®The Kindle Kin used a few to sneak out of the Palace and past the black city.¡¯

    ¡®Oh I remember that.¡¯ The demon grumped. ¡®Damned Singers had us help them along pro bono in that dead city.¡¯

    ¡®You sure can hold a grudge huh?¡¯

    Mickie eyed the demon as they came upon another intersection. The pair chose the downward sloping path again.

    ¡®Well, I am a demon, and no demon worth their salt ever lets an insult slide.¡¯

    ¡®The Kin didn¡¯t even know you existed until recently.¡¯

    ¡®All the more reason not to let it go! I never forgave the Palace Lord for holding me on the ninth, and look what happened to it. Hell ought to learn my name, and remember my reputation.¡¯

    Mickie chuckled at the little demon¡¯s fervour. He wondered where his partner found that bottomless confidence, even if he was sure a fair chunk of it was just bravado.

    ¡®What was it like?¡¯ He found himself asking. ¡®Coming to life in the Palace? From what I¡¯ve gathered demons aren¡¯t born the same way humans are.¡¯

    Miz-Mag sighed at the question, slumping back against Mickie¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡®That we are not. Sometimes I forget about those gaps in your knowledge.¡¯  The little demon went quiet, and Mickie let the silence hang, waiting for his partner to continue.

    ¡®If you must know.¡¯ Miz-Mag eventually said. ¡®I just sorta woke up one day. One moment there was nothing, then the next, bingo! Hello and good morning!¡¯

    ¡®I mean, that¡¯s kind of similar to what happens with mortals.¡¯ Mickie said. ¡®Sure, I might not remember the day I was born, but I still came into this world thinking about stuff.¡¯

    ¡®Nothing of substance I¡¯ll bet. You thinking I don¡¯t know about the screaming little worms you humans start out as?¡¯ Miz-Mag chuckled. ¡®I was never so undignified. I came into this realm as Miz-Mag, and as Miz-Mag I have stayed, for a century give or take.¡¯

    ¡®Wait, you''re saying you came to life fully developed, like able to speak and communicate?¡¯

    ¡®Sure did. Already knew all the best curse words from day one.¡¯

    ¡®Weird.¡¯ Mickie muttered. ¡®What about parents? Did someone give you your name, or did that come along with the gift of existence too?¡¯

    There was a long pause at the question. Mickie threw his companion a glance, and found Miz-Mag looking a little melancholic. The fiend shook the expression of the moment it noticed him watching.

    ¡®Eyes on the road kid, and no, I never had a parent. As for my name, well, I¡¯d say Hell itself granted me one.¡¯

    ¡®How do you figure that?¡¯

    ¡®Well, it was presented to me on the moment of my awakening.¡¯ Miz-Mag said, its voice taking on a wistful air. ¡®I came to in a scenic spot above the abyss, not too far from where I met you, actually. I remember my first thought was; oh boy, that¡¯s a scary drop. Then my next thought was; what¡¯s that carved into the stone over there?¡¯

    Mickie continued deeper into the crimson passage as his partner spoke.

    ¡®So, over I went, and what do I find?¡¯ The demon held for a dramatic moment. ¡®Miz-Mag! Carved into the very rock above the abyss. Not only that, but it was encased in a strange circle, kind of like an arrow pointing down to the stone on which I stood. What else could it have been but fate?¡¯

    Miz-Mag proclaimed dramatically.

    ¡®Really?¡¯ Mickie said after a short pause. ¡®You decided your name off of a bit of graffiti you found scribbled on a wall?¡¯

    The demon on his shoulder huffed.

    ¡®I¡¯m tellin¡¯ ya it was fate, kid. You¡¯re just too narrow minded to see it.¡¯

    ¡®Whatever you say Mag.¡¯ The branded man hid a smile. ¡®So, were you born with the urge to climb out of Hell, or was that something you picked up along the way?¡¯

    ¡®Came with the starter package of existence.¡¯

    ¡®Right, and you never thought of why?¡¯

    Miz-Mag sighed wearily at the question.

    ¡®Come on kid, we¡¯ve been over this. Why would I ever feel the need to think hard about it? Who wouldn¡¯t want to slip out of a palace in an icy wasteland?¡¯

    ¡®I know, I know, sorry.¡¯ Mickie placated. ¡®Just wanted to double check.¡¯

    Miz-Mag glared at him for a long moment.

    ¡®Why, has something been happening with you?¡¯

    The memory of a body encased in molten gold flashed through Mickie¡¯s mind, dredged up from a life that was not his. If he intended to tell his companions about his visions, it was probably a good idea to start with Miz-Mag.

    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ He began slowly. ¡®Something has.¡¯

    <hr>

    The duo descended further along the crimson passage as Mickie described what he had been seeing. Miz-Mag was uncharacteristically silent throughout the entire telling, only interrupting with the occasional clarifying question. Once he was done, a silence stretched between them.

    ¡®I¡­ I. Kid, I don¡¯t understand.¡¯

    Miz-Mag finally said, voice little more than a murmur. Mickie let out a long breath.

    ¡®What part don¡¯t you understand?¡¯

    ¡®All of it. It just makes no sense.¡¯ His partner wrung its tiny hands. ¡®The mark, your mark. It should be based off of me. Sure, it might look like it came from the Soul Lord, but we¡¯ve had it confirmed that it¡¯s just a derivative.¡¯

    ¡®We have.¡¯ Mickie agreed, and waited for Miz-Mag to continue.

    ¡®Then why? Why would the Soul Lord be involved in any of this? I never even met the guy, for all that we seem to be related somehow.¡¯

    ¡®I have no clue. Honestly, I was hoping you might know something.¡¯

    ¡®No luck there.¡¯ Miz-Mag laughed bitterly. ¡®To tell you the truth, I¡¯ve got a few questions of my own that I¡¯d like to ask the dead bastard. For starters, why in all the nine circles can next to nobody see me? Sure it¡¯s probably kept me alive, but if I¡¯d gotten some insane power wouldn¡¯t I have been better off?¡¯

    Mickie had been holding a small kernel of doubt, that perhaps Miz-Mag really had been holding back all this time. When he heard the frustration in his partner¡¯s voice however, any remaining suspicion was dispelled. Miz-Mag could lie, but a display of true emotion like this was rare enough to be convincing.

    ¡®Maybe the point was to trap you.¡¯ He said. ¡®Make you invisible to all but the Palace Lord, then make you fragile, easy to kill. It would give you free reign of the castle, but also make it your prison.¡¯

    The demon thought about that for a moment.

    ¡®That¡­ that makes sense. Seems elaborate, but hey, I can testify to the fact that it worked.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s elaborate because it needs to be.¡¯ The branded man continued. ¡®It was a prison built to have a key.¡¯

    These were thoughts that had been churning in the back of Mickie¡¯s mind. Now he led Miz-Mag along the train of logic he had followed, letting the demon come to its own conclusions.

    ¡®The bond. I always wanted out, and the bond was the best way for me to get it.¡¯ His partner whispered. ¡®By the blood, how did I not see it before?¡¯

    Mickie shrugged. ¡®Sometimes it¡¯s hard to see the game when you¡¯re a piece.¡¯

    ¡®I guess. I mean, I always knew that a bond would be the best way for me to get out, I just never figured it was, you know, intentional.¡¯ Miz-Mag sighed. ¡®So, someone wanted me to make the deal, probably the Soul Lord if what you just told me is any indication. I just wish I knew why¡­¡¯

    ¡®So do I.¡¯ The branded man said. ¡®And I¡¯ve seen and heard enough of the Soul Lord to know there¡¯s definitely something else at play. Something that I imagine won¡¯t be good news for us.¡¯

    ¡®These visions! If you¡¯re seeing the Soul Lord¡¯s past, maybe you can see why it decided to set up the deal.¡¯

    Miz-Mag perked up, excited. Mickie was quick to dismiss the idea, however.

    ¡®Won¡¯t work. Not unless it somehow happens by random chance. I have no control over the visions.¡¯

    ¡®No control? Didn¡¯t you say you think the ones you¡¯re having now are related to this place?¡¯ The demon waved an arm vaguely about in the air.

    ¡®I did, but it wasn¡¯t done intentionally on my part.¡¯ The branded man frowned, thinking it over. ¡®For the most part, it seems that the visions seem to be tied to what I¡¯m experiencing, if they have any direction at all.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, I see. Not quite as promising as I had hoped.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, unless we get lucky, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll stumble across the right memories.¡¯

    ¡®Shame that.¡¯ Miz-Mag went silent for a moment. ¡®What about this place? You think you¡¯ll see something that will help?¡¯

    ¡®Maybe, honestly I¡¯m not one hundred percent what I¡¯m seeing is related, it''s more of a hunch. The main factor tying the two is the presence of the lost. The Soul Lord has a weird kind of fixation with them.¡¯

    ¡®Huh, righto. I suppose now you¡¯ve actually spilt the beans, we might be able to do something with what you see.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s the idea.¡¯ Mickie said and released a long sigh. ¡®I¡¯ll need to let Kalistra know about the visions too. She might be able to make something of them that we haven¡¯t.¡¯

    He had been expecting Miz-Mag to object. Instead, the little fiend gave a thoughtful hum.

    ¡®Probably for the best, as long as I¡¯m outside strike range when you do. Last thing I need is to become a statue because you pissed off a gorgon.¡¯

    ¡®Noted.¡¯ He replied dryly. ¡®I¡¯m a little surprised you¡¯re so open to telling her.¡¯

    Miz-Mag chuckled.

    ¡®Kid, just because I¡¯m a wary sort doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m completely paranoid. The snake and the bird have been with us long enough that I trust ¡®em. Plus, you aren¡¯t wrong, she does have the brains for these sorts of things.¡¯

    Apparently, even the paranoid could be convinced given enough time. The pair discussed his visions as they delved into the city¡¯s depths, though Mickie was careful to avoid mention of seeing Sestus. The late golden fiend had been something of a friend to Miz-Mag. There was no need to taint his partner¡¯s memory with mention of a link between the demon and the Soul Lord.

    Over time Mickie noticed that the channel upon which they walked was getting both deeper and broader. It had almost doubled in diameter when, finally, they reached the tunnel¡¯s end. The open passage terminated in an abrupt drop, twisting at a ninety-degree angle and falling away. Mickie stopped at the edge and glanced over. He was greeted by a vertical shaft, cylindrical and completely coated in runes. The crimson glow they gave off was such that he could see clearly, right to the point where the shaft twisted out of sight.

    ¡®Surely you aren¡¯t thinking of taking a look down there?¡¯ Miz-Mag said nervously, glancing between Mickie and the hole.

    ¡®No, I don¡¯t know how far down it goes.¡¯ The branded man replied after a moment. ¡®It¡¯s a shame though. Would have been nice to find out what all of this is for.¡¯

    Miz-Mag was about to reply when the rune on the floors and walls flared bright. As they did, the floor vibrated as something groaned beneath their feet. Mickie leant against a sloped wall, squinting against the suddenly bright light.

    ¡®By the blood, this one¡¯s fierce.¡¯ His companion complained. The branded man nodded in agreement.

    ¡®Not just that, but the last one can¡¯t have been more than an hour ago. Happened while Kalistra and I were walking back.¡¯

    ¡®That recently?¡¯ Miz-Mag¡¯s voice was tight with concern. ¡®We should never have let bird brain near the blue stuff.¡¯

    After a short interval, the light on the walls began to fade. It dimmed in fits and bursts, sections of twisting scrawl still clawing onto their momentary radiance. When the distant rumble finally faded, Mickie pushed himself from the wall.

    ¡®I think we ought to get back.¡¯

    ¡®No complaints from me, kid. Those shakes give me the creeps.¡¯ Miz-Mag blinked away bright spots in its eyes. ¡®Going to be a pain to hoof it back up the tunnel though.¡¯

    Mickie gave his companion a sly smile, before holding out his hand and calling forth his gun.

    ¡®Yeah, that¡¯ll take too long. I got a better idea.¡¯ He began channeling power into the weapon as Miz-Mag gave him a nervous look.

    ¡®What you uh, what you planning to do with that?¡¯

    ¡®Well.¡¯ Mickie said, concentrating on the weapon and causing the barrel to spin. It landed on the dark eyed leopard. ¡®Looking at that drop, I have a decent idea about where we are in the city. Seeing as Ziz managed to dig its way into the tunnels from above, I figure, why can¡¯t we go the opposite way.¡¯

    He pointed his gun upwards, and fired. The sound it made was tremendous, leaving their ears ringing as steam and dark smoke wafted through the confined space.

    ¡®By the blood kid, couldn¡¯t you have just used your sword?¡¯ Miz-Mag coughed and waved the smoke away. Mickie smirked sidelong at the demon.

    ¡®Tunnel¡¯s too high, I don¡¯t want to have to jump for it. Besides, it seems to be working.¡¯

    For all that it had been loud, Mickie¡¯s weapon had also been effective. The steel of the ceiling was heavily bowed, almost broken from that single shot. Over the next few minutes, the branded man fired round after round into the roof. Mickie split it to reveal a shaft of bright lamplight, then widened the gap enough that he could slip through.

    It took a fair amount of effort, and an inordinate amount of complaining from Miz-Mag, to jump up and slip through. The pair were rewarded however, with a familiar sight. They stood upon the flat plain of metal at the city centre, right beside the expansive pipe opening. Mickie gave a satisfied huff as he dusted himself off.

    ¡®I knew it. The tunnel led to the side of the pipe, the drop off we saw must run perpendicular to its side.¡¯

    Strangely enough, there was no response from the demon atop his shoulder. Mickie glanced at Miz-Mag, finding the demon turned away, fixated by something behind him. Frowning, the branded man cast a look over his shoulder, and his blood ran cold. Lined up behind them in neat, orderly ranks, were the lost. Not the occasional ragtag bundle of miners like was usual, but every single worker in the city. They were flowing out of the side streets and into the open space, filling gaps in the crowd even as he watched on.

    ¡®No.¡¯ Mickie muttered. ¡®No. It can¡¯t be this soon, it¡¯s hardly been more than a week.¡¯

    ¡®Tell that to them, kid.¡¯ Miz-Mag nodded at the massing lost.

    The branded man grit his teeth and swore, orienting himself by the nearby platform that was still in complete disrepair. Without another word he started running, feet pounding the steel ground back towards their home base. They were out of time and stuck without a solution, and neither Kalistra or Ziz knew what was about to happen.

    Mickie sprinted off to find them, just in time for a reverberating bell to sound. It echoed through the cavern city, heralding the darkness, and the wrath of the beast that would soon follow.

 42 â€“ The Dominos Fall

    Mickie made it to the first turn before he heard the synchronised applause. Soon after that the roar of the waking beast rattled through the city. Mickie felt the moment when the creature realised it would not be receiving another dose of the drug. There was a brief silence, followed by a bellow of such complete indignation that it was almost comical.

    Then, just as he made it to the broken region¡¯s edge, the lights went out. Already darting between bent sections of steel, Mickie lost his footing almost immediately. He was sent bouncing between ridges of sharp metal, Miz-Mag screeching as it was dislodged from his shoulder.

    The branded man groaned and rolled over, the world coated in a heavy fog of darkness. From nearby there came a slow litany of curses as his partner righted itself.

    ¡®Mag, over here.¡¯

    Mickie whispered, and the squeaky voice drew closer.

    ¡®Damned city and its damned lights. Should have just dug our way free of the stinkin¡¯ Labyrinth. If I get out of¡­¡¯

    Anything else Miz-Mag might have said was drowned out by an almighty crash from the city centre. It was followed by another, and another, as the giant pulled itself up and out of the pipe. When the sounds of its ascent faded away, the little demon had made it back to Mickie, neither of them daring to make a sound. The beast was snuffling and stomping somewhere in the distance, no doubt searching for its elusive fix. The last thing they wanted to do was attract its ire.

    It was to their collective dismay then, when the sounds of the unseen giant drew closer. The pair began to hear the screech of warping steel alongside the pad of heavy feet. Each step would follow a long pause, an extended period in which the monster sniffed at the air.

    ¡®Kid, it¡¯s coming for us. I think, I think it has our scent.¡¯

    Miz-Mag whispered right into his ear. The branded man bit back a curse as there came yet another calamitous step. His partner was right, the monster was heading right for them.

    Slowly, ever so slowly, Mickie lifted himself from the ground and started to edge backwards. He slid a foot forward, it bumped into metal, he raised it over, and stepped. From behind came a chorus of breaths, like wind through innumerable bellows. The branded man swore he could feel the air gusting against his back.

    He achieved another few small steps before the monster grunted and moved closer. It was no good, the beast simply covered too much ground. Mickie would never outrun it, not if it could smell him. If only he could see, he could gauge how far away it was. What was the point of getting new eyes if they failed to even help him? Another slow few steps away, then the beast moved. On his shoulder Miz-Mag hissed.

    ¡®Kid, this isn¡¯t working.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s mind whirled, desperately searching for a solution, some way he could escape the giant. He felt the orb lamp, pressing against his side within his jacket pocket. Could he throw it as a distraction? No, the beast would spot the orb the moment he lit it up to toss. What Mickie needed was some way to set it off remotely, so it would light up only when he was completely clear.

    ¡®Kid.¡¯

    Miz-Mag dragged the word out, almost whining. The statement gave Mickie pause, drawing his attention to the fiend. A thought occurred, something that might help him put on some distance.

    ¡®Hey Mag, I¡¯m going to need a favour.¡¯

    It took more convincing than he had hoped, but less that he had expected, to send Miz-Mag away as a decoy. As neither of them could see, the fiend collected the orb lamp, and scurried away in a random direction.

    Mickie continued in his own sluggish half walk, getting as far from the monster as he could. His efforts continued to be in vain, and the beast grew closer with each step. He felt like a fish in the deep ocean, sensing a predator¡¯s approach, yet unable to truly see it.

    Then, after what felt an age, a small star blossomed in the distance. Light fell upon rows of ragged buildings, creating indistinct dark outlines and stretching shadows. Illuminated above it all was something vast. Mickie glimpsed its legs like the trunks of two monstrous trees, arms stretching out from its body like the spines of a sea urchin. Some of the limbs were pressed to the ground, helping to support the creature¡¯s immense bulk.

    It paused for a moment seeming to contemplate the light that bobbed along of its own accord. Then the monster roared, a terrible, multilayered cry that shook the world and hurt Mickie¡¯s ears. It started pounding the ground, moving far swifter than its previous shambling shuffle. The branded man turned then, and under the distant light of the lamp, he ran.

    He had no clue where he was, no idea where to go except forward. Mickie sprinted as the beast raged at the distant lamp. The light dimmed dramatically as Miz-Mag took the orb into a broken house, just as they had planned. Once inside the demon would vanish, leaving the beast to rage at the lonely light.

    The branded man saw none of this, as he was too focussed upon gaining distance from their adversary. His only indication the beast was done was the gradual loss of eyesight, causing him to trip and stumble more often than not. The monster¡¯s rage died along with the last of the light, and Mickie was once again left in darkness.

    He stumbled to a stop, catching his breath and simply listening for a moment. The beast gave a chorus of satisfied grunts, shuffling about in what was likely a pancaked block of buildings. Noting that it had yet to resume its pursuit, Mickie began to edge along the road. There came a distant creaking as the monster moved onto fresher ground. Ears straining, Mickie waited for the moment he heard the inhalation of breath that indicated it was back on his trail.

    Only, that telltale rasp of air never came. Instead, the beast shuffled its titanic bulk about and continued to grunt. The tone of its sounds had shifted somewhat, lightening, as if in interest. When the monster started to walk away, Mickie almost laughed in relief. It looked as if he was no longer of interest.

    When the grunts shifted into an angry grumble, he began to worry. Then he caught a glimpse of dull red light reflecting off something vast, and that worry compounded into fear. Mickie realised then, that he had led the beast into the ruined section of the city. Right towards their home base.

    Runes did no glow very bright, but if there was enough of them and the ambient light was negligible, they were noticeable. Now, drawn close and with a substantial height advantage, the monster had noticed their recent excavation efforts. If the roar it gave was any indication, their oversized enemy did not find the sight amusing.

    ¡®Oh shit.¡¯

    Caution replaced by panic, Mickie began a shuffling run towards the vague impression of the beast. He hardly got more than a few steps before a new sound joined the cacophony. An avian caw cut through the air, and something blurred upwards through the crimson light.

    The beast¡¯s reaction to hearing Ziz was that of a bull seeing red. It exploded forward, closing the last of the distance to the dim glow, and blocking the light entirely. After that the world became a black roar of breaking steel and angry monsters.

    The branded man tried to reassure himself, thinking that Ziz had evaded the beast once before. Only, the last time they had fled the creature, the avian had some light by which to see. Now however, it was in the dark and dangerously close.

    From the gloom there came a strangled squawk. Mickie¡¯s heart dropped at the implication of what it might mean. Then, just as suddenly, there was a tremendous cracking noise, like the shattering of stone. The monster let lose an overlapping howl of such potent fury that it could only indicate pain, and something large crashed to the ground.

    Mickie tripped and slammed into something hard, likely a wall. What he would have given for the chance to see what was happening. If there were only some way he could get just a modicum light for his eyes to use. The branded man paused midway to his feet, almost toppling back over as the beast shook the ground.

    He did have a way to produce light, one that he could never lose. Straightening, Mickie held out his hand and called forth his gun. The moment bone contacted skin he began to pump power into the weapon, charging it. As he did, the grilles on its body began to glow with an internal light.

    Mickie continued to draw from his soul, loading the weapon with far more than was safe. It set the internals of the gun aglow, powering it enough to illuminate his immediate surroundings. The ragged street came into view as the monster continued to swipe at Ziz. Mickie tried to see his companion in the air, to gauge if there was a gorgon upon its back. The best he got was a vague outline of the beast¡¯s titanic bulk.

    Now able to see, Mickie started running right at the monster. Even if all he achieved was a minor distraction, that might be all Ziz needed to get away. The giant had shifted from their home base¡¯s original position and was now gradually bulldozing a fresh section of the city. Mickie crossed from shredded to smooth roads as he pursued, closing on their titanic foe.

    It was vague, but up ahead he noted the shadowy outlines of buildings giving way to open air. Somehow, they had circled round in the dark and come right back to the city centre. From up above there came another cracking sound, followed by a scream of pain from the monster. Mickie was almost squished flat as the beast abruptly staggered backwards.

    A giant leg passed right overhead, crashing down on a building right beside where he ran. Caught between diving to the ground and hiding against a nearby wall, he noticed the monster¡¯s limb.

    Having glimpsed the creature¡¯s arms before, and after hearing Kalistra¡¯s description of the Hecatoncheires, Mickie had expected an oversized human foot. Instead, what he saw was a pillar of brown fur, stretching up atop a massive, two-toed hoof.

    ¡®What in the¡­¡¯

    Before he could get the words out, the monster lunged forward. He heard steel tearing and saw chunks of the surrounding city lift into the air. The titan hurled a collection of buildings like a pocketful of sand, and finally, it got lucky.

    Ziz let loose a cry of sudden pain, and a bronze shape dropped into the range of Mickie¡¯s makeshift lamp. The branded man was running towards the primordial¡¯s spiralling form in an instant. There came a tremendous roar of victory from above as Ziz crashed into the ground beside the open pipe.

    Mickie flew towards the city centre, but even his fastest speed was nothing compared to their adversary¡¯s monstrous stride. A cloven hoof crashed down ahead of him, blocking the primordial from view momentarily. When the branded man next caught sight of Ziz, his companion had partially risen from the ground.

    It¡¯s struggles indicated that something was broken, but Mickie could not see what in the weak light. What he did notice, was a figure atop the avian¡¯s back, little more than an outline and a flicker of bronze. An arm thudded down upon the steel floor, then another, and another. The monster had cornered its prey, and now it appeared, that it wanted to play.

    Mickie pumped his legs harder, pushing out in the open, trying to get to his companions. It was not going to be enough, Ziz released a defiant screech as the beast lowed a body thick with arms into view. They sprouted from all directions, like the spines of a porcupine, and beyond them, was the monster¡¯s head.

    It took Mickie¡¯s brain a moment to parse what he was seeing. The top of the beast was a mess of brown fur, bloodshot eyes, and dark, sharpened horns that twisted and punctured flesh. It did not have one head, it had dozens, and they were those of a bull. Several jaws opened, and the beast rumbled out its victory.

    Panic welled up within the branded man at the sound, still too far away to act, too far to help. Even if he fired off his charged gun, the creature was simply too large. All he would do was rob himself of his only light. Mickie needed to think, needed to plan. He needed to drive away the fear and panic.

    So, in the space of a breath, and the moment between footfalls, he called upon the hollow. It surged like a caged beast, washing away everything that clouded his mind. Leaving only the focus, the calm, and the roiling mass he held deep within.

    Ziz was twisting its long neck around, trying to find a way out. It¡¯s attention was drawn to the sole source of light, landing upon Mickie. The branded man locked eyes with his companion. He raised a hand, and pointed. Past the shadowy giant, past the primordial, into the open mouth of the pipe.

    Mickie needed time to cause a distraction, which meant Ziz needed to run away, and there was only one place to run. The primordial hesitated for a moment, then gave a tiny subtle nod. That was all the branded man saw before a forest of limbs slammed down, obscuring his companion from view.

    He did not miss the moment Ziz dove into the pit, however. Every bulls head the titan had trumpeted in outrage, and it dove forward, hands reaching for its prize. Their resident primordial was quick however, and Mickie did not need to see it happen to know the avian had slipped away.

    A smile slowly bloomed across the branded man¡¯s face as the creature dragged itself into the pipe. Ever since the tower on the seventh circle he had avoided reaching for the hollow within. Even now, the Conductor¡¯s warnings still rang in his ears. Mickie knew he needed to be careful, and yet, all he felt at that moment was the warm glow of satisfaction. There was no more fear, no more panic. Only him, and the thing he needed to break. He began to run.

    The giant had not bothered to rise from its position on the floor. Instead, it had used its plethora of arms to drag itself after Ziz. Mickie ran after it, covering the ground towards the hole¡¯s edge, and without hesitation, leaping in. Below him the titanic body of the monster was descending like an impossibly mutated spider, its long limbs working to control its drop.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Mickie plunged down after it like a shooting star, his gun the only light in a vast expanse of empty dark. He held out his free hand as he fell and called forth his black blade. It came to him like an eager hound, seeming to vibrate with excitement in his hand. Mickie held it forth like the tip of a spear, the edge glowing a dull red as he pumped it full of power.

    Then, about two thirds of the way down the pipe, he slammed into the titanic monster. He hit it high, at the point where the bull heads connected to its cylindrical torso. It was what might have been the neck or shoulder on a normal person.

    Mickie¡¯s blade met flesh and carved into it like butter. The branded man himself was not so lucky. He slammed into a wall of muscle, and almost immediately bounced straight off. Something gave in his hip and his shoulder wrenched painfully, but Mickie managed to keep hold of his blade.

    The weapon began to slide free, and he hurriedly twisted it deep before cutting off the supply of power. Hot breath wafted over him as the monster grunted in discomfort, but that was the only reaction it had to his landing. Mickie was inclined to change that.

    He rode the titan until it crashed into the pipe¡¯s floor. Neither Kalistra nor Ziz were anywhere to be found, and their foe wasted no time in giving chase. Mickie was jolted as it stood, still partially hunched in the tunnel. The beast started down the circular tunnel, and its passenger shifted, pulling his blade free and sliding down atop one of the arms.

    ¡®Alright big guy. Let¡¯s see how you like this.¡¯

    Mickie drove his weapon into the point where arm met body, and began to work it like a log saw. The monster grunted loudly as he cut, shaking vigorously to dislodge the insect stinging one of its arms. Said insect used his blade to stay in place however, and continued to carve at the flesh.

    Blood began to flow out of the widening wound, a thick, viscous substance that coated his hand and made it sticky. Finally, the monster took real notice of him. It grunted in pain, and did what anyone would do to an annoying bug, it tried to brush him off.

    The hairs on the back on Mickie¡¯s neck rose as he caught sight of the hand. It swung out of the dark like an immense flyswat, coming right for him. There was no time for him to pull his blade free. Mickie let go of the handle and rolled between the gap of two arms. He landed on another limb, and almost got free of that when the hand crashed down above.

    Every arm around the branded man was abruptly pressed flat, and Mickie was squished hard between them. Every bone in his body creaked as the air was compressed from his lungs. Stars danced across his vision as his head was crushed and blood flow throughout his body was disrupted.

    The branded man held onto consciousness as time dragged by, and the limbs compressed him further. He could feel the handle of his gun, suddenly painful within his grasp. If he could just move a finger to the trigger, the beast might let him get some air. Under the pressure of the titan however, the task proved impossible for him.

    Then, just as suddenly as it had come on, the pressure vanished. Mickie hauled in a desperate lungful of air, and found himself tumbling off the titanic arm as it unfurled. Too weak and disoriented to stop the fall, he instead landed on the next limb down. Recalling his blade, the mortal jammed it into the beast and grabbed on tight.

    He took a moment to just breath and take stock. The good news was that he had successfully garnered the monster¡¯s attention, as painful as it might have been. He had failed to bring the creature to halt, however. Whatever Kalistra and Ziz had done to piss the beast off, it was apparently far worse than a knife to the side.

    Instead of exhausted or helpless, the branded man found himself feeling exhilarated. The hollow within him held the negative emotions at bay, leaving only the energising prospect of a challenge. Mickie sunk further into the hollow, let it wash over him and drain away everything but what he wanted in that moment.

    Deep within himself, the branded man touched upon a current, aligning himself to the flow, taking it up and shaping. His throat began to itch in anticipation as he drew in a slow breath. The blade vanished from where it was lodged within the beast, reappearing in his hand with the edge already aglow.

    He focused upon a limb adjacent to the one on which he crouched. Broad as a redwood and corded with muscle. It shifted with each movement of the monster, bouncing with the cadence of its run. Mickie drew back his own arm as a word formed on the current deep within, twisting up his gut and out his throat.

    ¡®Rend.¡¯

    He swung, and blade met skin. There was a moment of tension, resistance of something beyond physical. Steel parted flesh, hardly more than a handspan through the titan¡¯s skin. The monster screamed as it never had before. Every head bellowed in abject agony at an attack that landed deeper than any physical cut.

    A gargantuan leg buckled, and the beast fell to a knee. Mickie, a sudden lethargy coming upon him, almost fell off the creature. He barely got the black blade lodged deep enough before the world shook violently. The monster¡¯s whole body trembled as it hunched over, half its head screaming as the others groaned.

    Mickie had certainly expected a response, but this was more than even he had hoped. Not only that, but there was something about the beast¡¯s soul that felt familiar. He had glimpsed it in the moment blade bridge the gap between them. Before Mickie could puzzle it out however, the giant responded to his attack.

    As any animal in pain might, it took the simplest method of attempting to remove the thing that hurt it. In this case, that meant simply toppling on top of the branded man. This time however, Mickie was ready and reacted near immediately. He leapt off the arm, no longer aiming to stay on the beast, and tumbled past its shifting body.

    There came a moment of freefall, an instance when he moved past the forest of arms and into open air. He came to a sudden and abrupt stop, slamming into the slope of the tunnel. Mickie blacked out briefly as his head cracked against steel. When he came too, he was sprawled on the bottom of the pipe, his gun glowing a few meters away.

    There was a tremendous crash and quake as the monster slammed into the wall somewhere above. It was still roaring in pain, and Mickie noticed a number of wide eyes latching onto his prone form. He struggled to rise as the beast pushed itself upright. It seemed weaker, but all it would have to do was lightly brush Mickie to pancake him.

    He needed to move, to get over to his gun before the titan got to him. The branded man got to his hands and knees, then attempted to stand. The pain that raced through him as he did was distant, almost abstract. The hollow kept it at bay, but still, it could not prevent Mickie from dropping back to his knees.

    Unable to walk, he instead started to crawl for his weapon. Steel groaned as the monster shifted its weight. The beast was sluggish, groggy with pain and the after effects of Mickie¡¯s strike. The branded man reached his weapon just as the giant got enough control of itself to take a shaky step forward.

    Mickie twisted to find a monstrous hoof looming above him. The titan roared as it stomped down, and it was all the mortal could do to roll out of the way. He narrowly avoided getting pancaked, summing his blade mere feet from the massive leg. Using the beast¡¯s own limb as cover, the branded man pumped power into his weapon and stabbed it into the floor. He felt it bite, sink in, and meet resistance.

    Above, the beast seemed to realise he was still alive. It roared and made to shove him with its planted foot. There was just enough time for Mickie¡¯s eyes to widen before his face met hoof and he was bouncing across the steel floor. For the second time in under a minute the breath was forced from his lungs as every bone in his body wailed in complaint.

    Strangely enough, the giant did not follow up on the kick. Mickie gasp for breath and rolled to the side, but when his eyesight came into focus, he found the monster distracted. Its arms shuddered where they were pressed against the walls, and the distant heads made an irregular, coughing gurgle.

    Something hit the ground nearby as Mickie recalled his blade. It was a furry lump of matted fur and flesh, glistening with something that might have been blood or water. The branded man did not have time to consider what was happening to the beast, he needed to act.

    Pushing the pain further away, he forced himself to his knees and channelled power into his curved weapon. The edge glowed and Mickie jammed it into the ground before him. This time the blade sank easily to the hilt. Just what he was looking for.

    Above the monster roared as it regained its senses. It appeared to decide that just squishing him with a foot was not enough, and started to reach down with dozens of hands. Mickie dragged his blade through the floor in a long cut before dismissing the weapon. He shuffled backwards and raised his gun. The firearm¡¯s glow seemed to strobe in the moment he spent taking aim, as if to warn him of the danger it represented. Mickie fired anyway.

    There was an immense flash paired with a titanic explosion. Sharp agony spiked up the branded man¡¯s arm as darkness regained its grip upon the world. His gun had flown from his grasp, but that was fine. He had only had enough time for a single shot anyway.

    Mickie dove blindly forward, aiming for the spot where he hard carved and blown open a hole into the floor. He was guided by a subtle crimson glow, coming from a hidden tunnel he had found with his blade. His injured body protested at the treatment, toppling short as the ground shook with a heavy impact.

    One of the monster¡¯s arms had landed nearby, thrown off target by the sudden loss off light. Mickie reached out blindly, and his hand wrapped about a heated length of sharpened steel. It dug into his palm, burning as it cut, but the branded man did not dare let go. Instead, he pulled himself forward, towards the hole he had created.

    Another of the beast¡¯s limbs crashed down, and he felt the blast of air it generated. It smelt of wet fur and stagnant sea water. There was another boom, then another, and Mickie was over the side and into the hole. The world turned red, lit by strobing lines of runes that ran along the floor and walls.

    The branded man hardly felt his impact with the ground, eyes fixated upon the hole through which he had entered. It was not very large, just wide enough to comfortably provide him access. Even as he watched on, something large crashed into the small gap, and runes illuminated a length of hard skin.

    It took some time for the beast to realise it had missed him. Arms rose and fell in what must have been a cascade of blows, yet none managed to squish the hidden mortal. Eventually the monster either grew tired of its attack, or noticed the red glow of runes, because the blows abruptly stopped.

    Mickie had used the time to regain his breath, forcing his damaged body upright and a few feet into the tunnel. He was glad he had when a broad, meaty finger abruptly forced its was into the tunnel. The appendage wiggled about like a mole¡¯s nose, blindly searching for its prey.

    When it failed to find him, the titan switched tact. It hooked its single finger against the roof of the tunnel, and began to heave. The beast¡¯s hands had failed to gain access because they were too wide, dispersing their weight into the tunnel walls. This finger, however, was focused exclusively on the thinner ceiling, and as such met with more success.

    A spike of irritation reached Mickie through his hollow core. If this beast wanted to reach blindly into the bug¡¯s nest, then it had better be prepared to get stung. His blade returned to his hand, and its edge immediately lit up with power. It took a little longer for the branded man to ready himself for a jump.

    The hole in the ceiling widened with each passing moment, and through the new gap Mickie thought he caught a glimpse of a bloodshot eye. Before there was enough space for a second finger, the branded man jumped. He barely managed to catch the appendage with his free hand, and almost dropped away from the resulting pain. Hollow or not, his body was reaching its limit.

    Forcing himself just that little bit further, Mickie swung his weapon around. He stabbed it between the finger and the wall, moving with the curve to hook the meaty limb. Once a point of dull red was visible, Mickie stopped stabbing and started pulling.

    Keeping hold of the weapon¡¯s handle, he let gravity do its work. At the same moment he pulsed a torrent of power into his blade, more than he ever had before. The curved edge flared bright, and all resistance to its fall vanished. Mickie hit the floor had, joined by half a meaty finger.

    The monster roared in pain and outrage, spraying rank blood only briefly into the hole before pulling away. Mickie listened on, exhausted but satisfied. The beast was tenacious, and he was certain this would not keep it at bay for long, but that was fine. He had succeeded in drawing its attention and only needed a moment now to slip away. The branded man smiled as he stumbled into the tunnel.

    <hr>

    Mickie was laying back against the cool steel passage. After an extensive period of wandering, he had found a point at which the passage curved beyond his ability to walk. Unlike the tunnels Ziz had uncovered, these passages appeared to follow the bend of the large pipe. The slope might have prevented his progress, but it did prove to be a nice place to stop. He was almost comfortable, laying slightly upright within the tunnel.

    The giant had long since ceased its infuriated roaring, but Mickie could still hear it out there, shaking the world with its titanic footsteps. Hopefully Kalistra and Ziz had managed to get away in time. The pair would be navigating their way through absolute darkness, but he was hopeful they could loop back past the beast and return to the surface. They might even find the place of power down here while they were at it.

    Eventually the monster¡¯s shuffling turned to rustling, and finally, to silence. The beast seemed to pause and think for a time, before abruptly stomping away. Mickie heard a chorus of snuffling from its many heads, and guessed it was probably trying to catch Ziz¡¯s scent. Hopefully the big bird had enough of a lead that it would not matter if their enemy got a whiff.

    Mickie continued to wait after the monster wandered off. He was in no rush now, and it would be best to make sure the lights were back on in the city before he moved. The time and the solitude also gave him the opportunity to let go of the hollow. The pain and anxiety had come crashing back in, swamping him so completely he almost shoved them away again.

    The Conductor¡¯s warning rang in his ears however, and Mickie held onto himself long enough that his insides settled. The process took some time, and the vast majority of his attention. As such, he failed to notice the change occurring within the tunnel until it was too late.

    Opening his eyes, the branded man discovered that the crimson light within the space had dimmed considerably. He sat bolt upright, and grunted in pain at the movement. Setting aside the complaints of his battered body, Mickie glanced around. All the runes within the passage had weakened. There was still enough light for his improved eyes to see by, but only just.

    The branded man was considering whether he should backtrack through the tunnels or risk breaking out, when a deep rumble echoed somewhere below. The runes about him suddenly flared bright and began to strobe rhythmically.

    ¡®That can¡¯t be good.¡¯

    Mickie¡¯s voice was tinnie in the steel tunnel, echoing with the same rhythm as the crimson light. As the sound faded, something distant rose to take its place. A churning, one which grew louder with each passing moment. It almost sounded like¡­

    The realisation hit Mickie like a hammer. His eyes widened as he ran them over the tunnel. Even curved, the walls still had the same slope to them. As if they were made to carry a liquid of some kind. The sound was no longer distant, and as it intensified, the branded man began to hear the characteristic rushing and sloshing of something moving through the tunnel.

    He called to his weapons. The blade came easily, but the gun took precious time and work to summon. It must have been damaged when he fired earlier. Mickie began channelling power into both when they appeared, jumping and attempting to cut a hole in the ceiling with his blade.

    The tunnel was deep here however, and the work was slow. With each passing breath the sound of liquid grew ever louder. He ran through ideas as he worked. It might not actually be the tunnels, perhaps there was some reserve of liquid moving down the larger pipe.

    Another strobe from the red runes warned him otherwise. When Ziz had used the blue drug to connect to the runes, it had awoken something in the old city. Mickie had been feeling like they had started an old motor, and now it appeared that finally, it had kicked into gear.

    The branded man managed to slice through a reasonable section of steel above his head. Without hesitation he raised his gun and fired into the split ceiling. Mickie had not been charging his weapon for long, but the force with which it kicked back was enough to stir a spasm in his aching body.

    He did have enough time to recover. Mickie saw the liquid as it came spilling down the tunnel. A waist high wall of silver, seeming almost angry in the rune¡¯s crimson light. The branded man only half registered the colour as he jumped for the freshly made hole. The flood caught his ankles as he grasped jagged metal with his hand.

    Pain flared through his palms as they were sliced open, but Mickie paid them little heed. He hauled himself upwards as the liquid rose to drag him down. It climbed faster than he did, reaching his calves, then his knees. Mickie got his head through the hole before disaster struck.

    He let go with one bloody hand to reach out into the darkness beyond. In doing so his other hand was forced, for one crucial moment, to bear his entire weight. Poorly positioned, and slick with blood, he slipped.

    The silver liquid heaved like it had been waiting for the opportunity. Mickie was dragged down, only barely catching the hole¡¯s edge again with his other hand. There came was a moment, in which bloody fingers gripped slick steel, where Mickie realised, he was going to lose his grip.

    It was almost funny. All this demonic power and strength, yet he could still fall with a moment of lapsed concentration. Mickie opened his mouth to laugh, or maybe even curse. Instead, his open airway was met by a flood of silver liquid.