《The Hallowed Hells》


 Prologue: Close Encounters

    Nothing but the balcony curtain stood between her and her freedom; she knew this was her only chance at escape. As the wind blew into the room, the scent of brine and drying fish assailed her senses. It was the first clue she had gotten as to where she was.


    Peering down the hallway, she confirmed she was alone, then darted for the balcony before fear could take hold. Without hesitating she leaped over the railing of the balcony, the unpolished sandstone scraping her palms, and hurdled towards the ground. It was only a two story drop, and given her dexterity, she would be able to mitigate any damage with a well-timed somersault.


    Regardless, the impact was jarring, as her vision flipped between ground and sky with every roll across the courtyard. The gently sloped gardens feeling more like a steep hillside given the speed that she moved. The dizzying experience mercifully stopped when she slammed into the edge of a fountain, causing her to teeth clench in an attempt to stifle her yelp.


    She had expected to mitigate all damage, but her health bar was slightly depleted. She cursed the weakness of the body she now possessed, but didn¡¯t have time to lament. The priestess would notice her absence in two minutes, when she was tardy to arrive at the morning prayers, and by then, her escape would be thwarted.


    She habitually reached for her ritual blade strapped to her thigh, but her hands only found smooth skin. ¡°Shit!¡± she muttered, but then notice the blood that now dripped from her wounded hand. ¡°How serendipitous¡± she smirked. She placed her hand into the fountain, the water quickly turning a ruby red with her blood as she hummed the Tune of Portals.


    After completing the thirty second hymn, all ripples subsided in the fountain, despite a cupid statue¡¯s continuous stream of piss splashing at the surface. The water that was now a mirror like surface trembled and shattered as a clawed hand burst through. Without hesitation, the claws reached through her body and ripped her soul from the vessel she had been possessing.


    ¡°Took you long enough Beth¡± Termadril¡¯s voice echoed through her mind


    ¡°Just get me out of here now!¡± she retorted, panic starting to swell within her as the rattling of armored guards approached.


    Termadril just grunted in response and then pulled her soul back into the Abysses of Hell.


    By the time the guard arrived to capture the runaway slave, only the corpse of a rotting peasant girl was found, half submerged in the fountain¡¯s basin. Her body looked to be at least two weeks dead, the stench of decay causing half the guards to gag and vomit.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Moments later, a voice as cold as ice pierced the sounds of heaving.


    ¡°How disappointing¡± the priestess sighed, the courtyard suddenly devoid of noise.


    The dozen guards started to plead for forgiveness, but their words came out as gurgles as blood and spittle foamed at their mouths. Every pore began to weep blood as they convulsed and collapsed. Twelve corpses lay in the garden, the grass and soil surrounding them red, creating the illusion that the bloodied fountain had overflown flooding the courtyard.


    The priestess levitated slightly above the ground, her feet removed from the gore, but her robes still dragging in the pools of detritus and blood. The color of death dirtied the pristine white of her linens. She stopped where the peasant girl lay rotting, a bloated arm floating on the opposite side of the fountain. The body was falling into pieces, a clear sign of demonic possession.


    The priestess furrowed her brow, agitation seeping out of her body and causing the surrounding air to shimmer. Taking a deep breath, the priestess turned back to the bodies that littered the courtyard, Raising one hand she summoned a staff that was wrapped in feathers. Slamming the heel of the staff into the bloodied earth, she began chanting. The song lasted for 12 minutes, one minute per deceased soul ¨C the priestess¡¯ eyes entirely black and her veins now pulsing amber on her skin like a web of fire. Her jaw unhinged as an inhumane wail filled the air. 12 dark shadows started to seep from the corpses of the guards, amalgamating into a hideous imitation of a human with featherless wings.


    ¡°Daaas Cramaniii¡± the priestess commanded while pointing to the fountain, speaking in a guttural language that was both grating and melodic.


    Upon her command, the imitation of a man hobbled to the fountain and plunged his face into the liquid, drinking it all up. It¡¯s stomach was distended and the sound of slushing filled the silence. When the beast couldn¡¯t possibly appear more hideous, a jagged smile spread from ear to ear, the lips tearing to accommodate. A shiver ran down the priestess¡¯ spine.


    ¡°Gurrtaaa Daaas¡± the monster replied, the torn skin around his teeth flapping listlessly, and then began flapping its skeletal wings taking flight.


    The priestess watched until the monster became a speck in the horizon, before turning back to the church. When she reached the marble veranda, her feet finally returned to the floor. Warily, the priestess stumbled and used the feathered staff to support her fatigued body. Blood had begun trickling from her mouth and she coughed up a black tar like substance.


    ¡°Lords of the Heavens grant me mercy, may we vanquish the darkness so no shadow exists in the light.¡± She recited. Chunks of her hair began to fall out, and she visibly aged a decade. With experienced motions the priestess took out a vial of angelic healing and swallowed its contents in one gulp. Her aging stopped and reversed until she was standing tall again. To an outsider, nothing looked amiss except for the blood that trailed behind her as her robes dragged along the corridors.

 Chapter 1: A Price to Pay

    Termadril hulking form cast a shadow over Beth. The edges of her body blurred and her face was only partially familiar, as her features were a disorienting blend of the peasant girl she possessed and her own. A roiling sense of disgust festered within him, it was wrong. The peasant girl¡¯s soul had been deformed, bent to Beth¡¯s will and never able to return to the cycle of reincarnation.


    He hated being Beth¡¯s handler, but that was the duty of the Dragath Amora - the portal keepers of Hell. He sighed, lifting up her incorporeal form, wisps of her body trailing as they walked deeper into the darkness of Hell. She would be unconscious for at least a week, as her escape from the priestess had been crude and reckless. ¡°She¡¯ll pull through¡± Termadril reassured himself, ¡°she always does.¡±


    ¨C


    The correct ghost term for leaving a possessed body is ¡®relinquishment¡¯. A more accurate term would be ¡®soul shredding¡¯, because it felt like being jammed into an industrial sized paper shredder. Post soul mutilation, a ghost must tape the segmented parts of their mind back together. Most could not endure the experience, their souls remaining mangled, never fitting into a coherent form again.


    I was currently in the state of recovery, my soul floating in a sea of paper strips; each strip resembling different parts of my past self, current self and prospective futures. Intermingled in my sea were foreign memories of the peasant girl I had possessed, causing the tide and currents of my soul to churn uncomfortably.


    The art of separating myself from the memories of the peasant girl is theoretically straight forward - divide my memories from the memories of the possessed body. If you had only possessed a body for a week or two, these memories were easy to differentiate as they felt foreign, like pebbles in my shoes. The problem arose when a ghost possessed a body for longer, like a month or a year. Those pebbles disintegrated to dust becoming unnoticeable, the path treaded on so intermingled that the two souls warped. However, when the possession ended, only one soul could remain. This left the ghost with the arduous task of sifting through every memory, reliving their entire life, as well as the life of the possessed person.


    I had only met a few ghosts who had survived a long-term possession, none of them felt whole - despite retaining their ¡°true¡± soul. A melancholy haunted their eyes, as though their sea of paper strips had been burned asunder.


    The peasant girl¡¯s memories were easy enough to distinguish, so flushing them out was a simple act of patience. I mindlessly ripped out the parts that were not me, tossing the remains into oblivion. It was the kind of monotonous work that lent itself to meditation.


    My meditations often started with reflecting on my past life; the rise and fall of Beth Mackel-Lee, the tech entrepreneur turned murder victim. Life back on Earth had been on a meteoric rise. My business partner, Paul, and I had met in college in Intro to Computer Science. It was not an encounter warranting attention, just a mutual resignation to boredom as the class rehashed topics we had both studied back in high school. We began sharing ideas on how we could revolutionise education, and streamline the process so that universities wouldn¡¯t require students to sit through classes that were essentially redundant. Especially when the courses were charging thousands of dollars for content I could find on Youtube. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I think education is valuable, but just because we were all about the same age, didn¡¯t mean we all shared the same depth of knowledge.


    So we programmed an app that amassed your knowledge and tailored the courses offered by school to maximise the ¡°knowledge to equity¡± return (what we dubbed KTO). After a few years in Paul¡¯s dad¡¯s basement office, we began to find success. Our hard work paid off and we could apply the underlying technology outside of education - corporations looking for employees that matched their profile, regardless of degree and experience were very interested in KTO. Before we knew it, basements became skyscraper offices, and our team of two became two hundred.


    Then we started preparing for an IPO, which should actually stand for Infinite Problems Ongoing, because every issue that could worm its way out of the floorboards did. The foundation of our business was rickety and Paul had not been clandestine in his code sourcing. Every computer programmer that Paul had jipped came at us with lawsuits, so I made an executive decision to buy out Paul. That discussion had ended with Paul shoving me off the roof of our office building. 42 floors later, all that remained of our IPO was a smattering of Beth on the streets of Lower Manhattan.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    My mom always said, ¡°Life¡¯s unfair, get used to it¡±, but I could not ¡°get used to it¡±. In fact, as I fell, I felt a rage so wrathful I tasted blood and ash in my mouth. I screamed like a banshee, cursing Paul to the fiery pits of hell.


    The unfairness continued when, after feeling the impact of death, I awoke in a cavern filled with the screams of tortured souls and a blazing inferno that was every shade of blue, red and green.


    ¡°That¡¯s NOT how curses work asshole!¡± I pointed accusingly at the pitch black sky above my head where I assumed God was. I wasn¡¯t the murderer, so why was I sent to Hell?


    A mirthful chuckle sounded from all around me, as a crackling deep voice responded, ¡°Actually, that''s exactly how curses work. The price for sending someone to Hell is unending servitude - you can¡¯t ask us to take on another mouth to feed without giving us some manpower to do so.¡±


    ¡°Now, tell me, are you going to be co-operative?¡± The disembodied voice no longer resounded from all directions but was clearly behind me. With a sprain-inducing look over my shoulder, I looked to see the shadow of a man at least two meters tall standing behind me.


    ¡°Co¡­ co-operative¡± I sputtered, reeling at the ridiculous situation. ¡°I don¡¯t even¡­ with what?¡±


    The shadow man snapped his fingers and an ornate full body mirror materialized in front of me. Against the backdrop of an infinite firescape, with grotesque scaled body parts protruding from particularly dark burning flames, was a wraith-like reflection of a teenage Beth.


    A sense of indignant fury washed through me, ¡°Adolescents again? Are you f**king kidding me!¡± She was indeed in Hell, no room for doubt left.


    The mirror blinked out of existence as quickly as it appeared, and the tall man smiled knowingly, ¡°My name is [insert the sound of air snapping and the earth trembling], and this is my domain¡± he nonchalantly waved at the surrounding landscape. ¡°It¡¯s not my job to orient you with how things work here, but it is a necessary formality for us to meet.¡±


    I stared up at the demon blankly, missing too much context to begin feigning understanding.


    The demon snapped his fingers again, and suddenly the world disappeared, the reality that I understood bent as the crushing weight of the universe¡¯s existence began to melt my insides into galactic soup. Stars blinked at me, their eyes piercing. Their sentience was evident as they spoke words that formed into light that travelled across galaxies - messages I would never understand. Time became molasses and tangible and could be poured like a condiment on a waffle. The demon snapped one last time.


    He continued, ¡°You meet me in order to understand that I am your God. What you experienced is but a sliver of the reality within which I exist. My role is to structure the insanity into a form wherein you can exist. That is why I am also known as the Architect. It is not a name but a title, one that is held by far more Gods than you might expect.¡±


    I was in the process of weeping and screaming and tearing out my hair while he delivered the monologue. It felt as though the very fabric of reality had been torn. It had been only a fraction of a second, but it was undeniably clear that the entity before me was indeed a God.


    His voice faded as I lost consciousness, reality again slipping between my fingers.


    The memory of my arrival began to fade as I exited my meditation, I felt grounded in my conviction, reigniting my desire to survive.


    I reviewed my progress in weeding out the peasant girl¡¯s memories, and gave a satisfied nod when I confirmed 10% completed. It would take about a week at this rate, which was considered slightly faster than average.


    After my reincarnation, I took things in stride - as best one can.


    It turns out that society functions the same on Earth as it does in Heaven and Hell. Its accredited to the fact that most demons and angels ascended from human origin, and thus their cultures bled into their new divine realms. However, I was not in Hell on the Earth I was familiar with, but had been reborn into a different cosmic cycle. What scientists called The Big Bang in my previous life was actually called a cosmic shift, when the reality of one universe split to form a new one. It was down one of these alternate cosmos that I currently existed in. One fun fact I learned is that reincarnation can only happen once per cosmos, thus life was truly lived once per universe.


    Although I digress, it helps to understand that there are no ¡°do-overs¡±, and that dying meant no reincarnating into the same world, with a chance to see your loved ones again. The finality of my situation made it easier to move past the previous death of Beth, but I would  never forget it. A life lesson in betrayal and the fickleness of mankind that would take multiple reincarnations to fade.


    Taking another deep breath, I re-entered my meditation, replaying memories was a method we were taught to reinforce our identity. The practice allowed the cleansing process after a possession to be more efficient. Thus, I continued down memory lane, as I reflected on my life so far as a ghost.

 Chapter 2: Leech and a maggot

    I re-entered the stream of my meditation, allowing the current of memories to guide me through my life since reincarnating as a ghost.


    My arrival in Hell after meeting the Supreme Ruler, could mildly be described as culture shock.


    I awoke from unconsciousness to the sight of a blazing red moon. Everything else in its vicinity seemed to pale, as though it demanded my attention. As though it¡¯s waxing and waning were a dance only for my eyes. In this moment, so intimate, a sense of longing and desire ached within me.


    ¡°You¡¯re finally awake¡± came a rasping voice from the darkness.


    My attention now shifting to the room, my eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. I was in an infirmary, white curtains on both sides and an old man at the foot of my bed. He was hunched over a cane, robes dishevelled and beard, long and grey. Just above his bushy eyebrows and squinting eyes were two curling horns of obsidian.


    With surprising speed, the old man approached my bedside and reached towards my torso, my eyes following his movement. I recoiled as I saw a massive leech-like insect affixed to my stomach. Its body was slimy and transparent, its organs visible through the opaque skin. A purple liquid was being siphoned from my abdomen into the core of the leech.


    ¡°Gentle now¡± crooned the man, ¡°my precious slime will only burrow deeper the more it senses fear.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s not helping¡±, I retorted, the rising panic accompanied with the slime¡¯s teeth starting to shift.


    Before any sensation of pain could settle in, the old man deftly twisted the leech from my abdomen cradling the two-foot-long abomination in his arms.


    Purple liquid seeped from the wound left by the slime. I was left unattended while he carried the slug to a cradle on the opposite side of the room, humming a lullaby that sounded like a familiar tune but in a flat scale. I apparently ranked lower in his list of priorities.


    I coughed imploringly, which only seemed to further slow the old man¡¯s movements. Those devilish horns seemingly less out of place as his piss poor personality unveiled itself. By the time the old man returned with a salve and bandages, the bed beneath me was tinged purple.


    ¡°Taking your bloody time¡±, I complained.


    ¡°You ghosts are made of tougher stuff than my precious slime¡±, the old man grumbled while bandaging me.


    Despite the initial shock, there was no pain and the horned nurse¡¯s administrations were gentle.


    ¡°What is a slime?¡± I asked as he tidied up the equipment.


    ¡°Something you should get comfortable with, as it''s the fastest way to cleanse impurities from the soul.¡±


    More confused than before, I filed away the information to unpack later when things settle down.


    ¡°What am I doing here?¡±


    ¡°I guess you could call it an initiation right?¡± The old Demon replied, ¡°Everyone get¡¯s knocked out.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°When a soul descends to the Hells, they all go through the same initiation. They meet the God of Hell and he shows them a glimpse of the Cosmos, and consequently they lose consciousness (some die, but that''s rare). To be honest, most of the time the initiation is held in groups of 100. You, however, had the honour of meeting our God one-on-one. Honestly, I am surprised you recovered so quickly. But alas, you ghosts truly are hardy things.¡±


    Turning on his heels before I could interrogate him further, he disappeared behind the curtains which blocked my view. The sound of curses and drawers slamming gave me the impression he was searching, unsuccessfully, for something.


    As I awaited the nurse¡¯s return, I noticed a red bar and a blue bar hovering just outside my vision to the left. When I focused on them, the bars came into view. They were two status bars indicating my health (in red) and soul (in blue). Currently my health was 180/200 and my soul bar was barely filled with only 10/150. Logic told me that this must reflect my current wellbeing; the health status was self-explanatory, whereas the soul status was not.


    ¡°What¡¯s this ¡°soul¡± status I can see?¡± I called out to the nurse.


    ¡°Ummm¡±, he shouted back, returning to my bedside with something under his arm. ¡°That¡¯s what ghosts use for magic. I don¡¯t really know all the mechanics.¡± As if to answer any follow up questions, he handed me a pile from under his arm.


    I started unwrapping the brown package.


    ¡°What¡¯s th¡­ A uniform?!¡± I asked incredulously.


    ¡°As you just demonstrated¡±, the old Demon snorted, ¡°you¡¯re far lacking in ghostly education.¡±


    ¡°You gotta be kidding me. I¡¯m two decades too old for school.¡±


    ¡°You were¡­¡± corrected the nurse, clearly unphased and familiar with this exact scenario.


    I felt my blood boiling and decided to make a hasty exit before I let the impulse to beat up the unbothered geezer take over.


    ¡°Thank you..¡± I managed through clenched teeth and stormed out of the infirmary.


    I should have asked for directions, but after my dramatic departure, I couldn¡¯t go back without tarnishing my dwindling sense of dignity.


    ¡°School?¡± I groused, the thought bringing back memories of loneliness and mild bullying.


    Thus, I roamed the halls of this foreign place - descending deeper into a maze that I was realising might be my demise. Of course, the pathways in Hell would be labyrinthian.


    ¡ª


    After several minutes (or perhaps hours passed, spending time within the confines of a maze had a way of bending time), I decided to try a more innovative approach.


    I yelled for help.


    My voice boomed through the hallways, their emptiness allowing the sound to carry far in every direction.


    Several moments later, a terrifying cinematic moment unfolded. The likes only seen in the best of Japanese horror films. What initially caught my attention was a barely audible dripping of water on stone floor. I turned (very cautiously) in the direction of the noise. As if all my fear had come to life, I saw the tattered form of a pale girl at the far end of the hallway. As much as a trope can be overdone - hallways and little girls in ANY universe are scary.


    She blended into the shadows, only visible from as she drifted past the lamps illuminating the hallways. Her hair fell across her face in streaks of oily black, and her feet, which were bruised and bleeding, did not touch the ground.


    Drip.. drip.. drip..


    ¡°Well, running seems to never work in the movies, right?¡± I asked myself. ¡°I mean, this is Hell after all. Could just be a kind citizen trying to help me out?¡±


    Despite trying to rationalize my fears, I couldn¡¯t help but take a few steps back.


    The girl let out a heavy sigh, as if facing a repeatedly irritating problem. She brushed her hand through her hair revealing a pale, yet beautiful face. Thin eyebrows perfectly shaped, petite button nose freckled faintly. She had rosy cheeks that would have been plump if the flesh on half her face was not missing. Exposed muscles rippled while a maggot peeked from behind a tendon.


    To my embarrassment, for a second time since entering this maze I screamed for help.

 Chapter 3: Rising From The Crypts

    Chapter 3


    Her name was Gloria, born a peasant girl but died as the King¡¯s consort. Not an inspired or original story, but one we all understand - the struggle for a better life, a softer bed and more servants.


    Her climb to royalty (adjacent) had been cruel, but she followed her own ethical code, which allowed for anything short of murder. In fact, she had betrayed the majority of the court, thus only the King and Chrysanthemum, the King¡¯s daughter, attended her funeral. Chrysanthemum hid behind round teary eyes but she had been the culprit that had poisoned Gloria¡¯s tea. Regardless, Gloria was not surprised when she awoke in Hell after her sin-filled life, face disfigured after coughing up the poison. The acid had burned the lower half of her face as it had spilled out of her mouth during her death thralls.


    Gloria was currently being reminded of her hatred for Chrysanthemum as a figure cowered before her scarred visage.


    ¡°For fuck sake¡±, Gloria cursed, pinching the bridge of her nose as a headache began to throb. She had come to see what caused the commotion and was now confronted with a ¡°new-born¡±.


    ¡ª¡ª


    Unfurling from a fetal position, which, in my defence is a natural response to a ghost attack, I ventured a look from between the fingers that covered my eyes. A foot tapped impatiently in the air. Taking a steadying breath, I spread my fingers wider until the ghost girl was in full vision. On closer inspection she was in her early teens, maybe a year or two older than my reincarnated age. Her face was still a terror, but my surprise had worn off and now I felt rather foolish.


    ¡°Get up and stop gaping¡±, the girl scoffed.


    I stood, knees still shaking, and pretended to brush off dirt from my pants while trying to get my bearings.  By the time I stood up straight, the girl''s face had digressed from disgust to derision. She wasn''t fooled at my weakness.


    ¡°Just my luck¡±, the ghost girl snorted, ¡°Lost I presume? Refusing to accept your current reality? Too sweet to go to Hell?¡±


    Before I could even respond with an offended gasp, she continued, ¡°you know you are a ghost, right? float THROUGH the walls¡± she explained, as though I was an infant. ¡°THROUGH. THE. WALLS.¡± she repeated, while drifting into the ceiling, her head and torso disappearing into the stone.


    ¡°I can¡­ float?¡± I wondered aloud. I then proceeded to jump, seemingly the logical starting point. This elicited a choked laugh from the ghost girl who was now upside down, only her head and shoulders protruding from the ceiling. Mirth warming her expression as a look of understanding filled her eyes.


    She floated to the ground, shaking her head.


    ¡°Floating is not like flying, there is no flapping of wings or running before take-off, instead it''s like undressing. Imagine your weight as a dress, then imagine taking it off. Then imagine each of your cells spreading apart. Like a deep yoga pose stretching your limbs, and now imagine that feeling in every cell and part of your body. Allow the air and yourself to become one, and then relinquish both weight and form.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    I followed the ghost girl''s instructions and was surprised when an alert screen (similar to an iPhone alert) popped down from the top of my vision.


    ¡°Phantom state initiated¡±


    Upon assuming the phantom state, the uniform I had crumpled in my hand fell to the floor, my hands now only faint outlines.


    The ghost girl cocked her head to the side, seeming puzzled, and asked, ¡°How new-born are you?¡±


    ¡°New-born? Oh, I don¡¯t know. I was unconscious for a bit, but since then, a couple hours maybe?¡±


    Her expression softened further.


    ¡°Malcom, the old nurse who takes care of new borns, can be prickly on his best days.¡± She leaned down to pick up the uniform. Instead of holding it, the uniform blurred and then vanished into thin air. ¡°Inventory pack" she answered the unasked question, "He should have given you one along with the blazer and skirt.¡± She shook her head in disapproval.


    ¡°Normally the academy assigns a senior to introduce you to The System, but you are between intakes. So, they probably hadn''t planned a proper induction. Hmm, quite the oversight. Anyways, I¡¯ll be your senior for the day ¨C I¡¯m Gloria by the way.¡± She looked around the dark corridor and grimaced, ¡°Always so dreary down here, let¡¯s get out of the crypts yah?¡±


    I put Malcom¡¯s name to memory, ranking him high in my ¡°humiliate at a later date¡± list. Then asked, ¡°The crypts?¡±


    ¡°It''s like a hospital for the dead, gotta make sure we stay properly lifeless - the only living souls here are the condemned.¡±


    The nuances of Hell escaped me and the rules were oxymoronic, but I was missing too much foundational knowledge to delve deeper. School, despite my initial rebukes, was appearing increasingly pragmatic.


    ¡°Okay, now untether yourself from the ground and float up.¡± Gloria continued.


    It took a few minutes, but I felt something snap then began to sink into the ground - focusing harder I directed my body up and, to my delight, rose towards the ceiling.


    When I began to phase through the stone, my vision blackened and my other senses came alive, I could sense the Earth surrounding me. It was how I imagined bats echolocate. I could sense that there were several different hallways above and below, and a vast open space (which I assumed to be the sky) a few hundred feet above. I moved in that direction, accelerating as I became comfortable with the sensation of Earth passing through my body.


    Ten meters from the surface, I saw something flash red in my periphery. My ¡°Soul¡± bar was at 1%. In tandem with the alert, I felt the Earth around me starting to stick to my bones, weighing me down. I felt a layer of dirt between my skin and my muscles, foreign and uncomfortable like splinters across my entire body. Without having it explained, I knew that coming out of phantom state while immersed would be excruciating if not fatal. Fuelled by panic, I raced for the surface and just as my Soul bar emptied, I reached the surface - shooting from the ground I launched into the air, solidifying a few meters airborne. ¡°Phantom state deactivate¡± flashed in my vision as my weight returned, gravity all too eager to embrace me. I hurtled towards the ground, impacting with a comical crunch.


    My health bar depleted to half, but I was otherwise fine. My pride, however, was sorely bruised as I heard Gloria wheezing in laughter. Tears spilling from her eyes.


    As far as the dead rising from crypts went, having the undead launched into the sky from their grave like a catapulting rock was admittedly funny.


    I could feel pearls of laughter bubbling up within me as well, and soon we were both clutching our sides in stitches.


    ¡°Damn girl¡±, Gloria managed after the laughter died down, ¡°you really know how to make an entrance.¡±

 Chapter 4: Hellscapes at Sunset

    After the laughter died down, I propped myself on my elbows and surveyed my surroundings.


    To my left, the land was dusty and cracked, unobstructed to the horizon. To my right was a similar landscape, however ? of a kilometre away, was a ledge. I rolled to my feet and lumbered over to Gloria offering her a hand, a gesture she cocked her head at. She reached out towards me but instead of clasping my hand, her ethereal body slid through my solid form. She gave me a cheeky smile.


    ¡°As a Shade, I have no physical form. We forgo the physical for stronger psychic powers.¡±


    ¡°So, are you a ghost then?¡± I asked


    Gloria floated into a standing position, ¡°There are many types of ghosts. You spend the first year of The Academy learning the different faculties of ghosting. After discovering your suitable paths, you spend the next two years building up the skills to transform into a ¡°specialised¡± ghost. There are Shades, like myself, Wraiths, Poltergeists, Zombies, Possessors, and a multitude of others.¡±


    ¡°There are differences between them?¡± I asked incredulously


    She nodded knowingly, ¡°It''s a lot to wrap your head around, I mean, who knew there were different types of ghosts. You don¡¯t even want to begin learning the demon faculties, there are like thousands!¡±


    Gloria scanned our surroundings and then smirked when she saw the distant ledge. ¡°This way¡± she beckoned.


    As we approached the ledge, my breath caught as a sweeping view of Hell revealed itself.


    ¡°It¡¯s something ain¡¯t it?¡± Gloria asked rhetorically.


    We were perched atop a cliff wall stretching infinitely on either side of me, but several kilometres below me lay a valley.


    Unlike in tales from my previous life, there were no pits of magma or blazing infernos. Instead, the ground was slightly translucent which gave way to contorted faces of the condemned screaming from beneath the opaque floor. The collage of skin tones creating a patchwork of tan and brown, not dissimilar to dirt. There were rolling hills, rivers that ran scarlet, and flowers that grew in halos, like funeral wreaths. The entire realm was a living graveyard.


    Occasionally, from discrete cracks in the terrain, geysers gushed out a stream of souls that would immediately be swarmed with flying demons, a blend of a pterodactyl and a harpy.


    ¡°The Valkyrie¡± Gloria whispered, also watching the flying demons.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Valkyrie¡­¡± I echoed, stunned by the outlandish world before me.


    After a few minutes, Gloria pointed down toward the cliff face.


    It was dotted with hundreds of cave entrances of varying sizes, the largest hole at least a kilometre in diameter.


    The largest hole, Gloria informed me, was The Academy¡¯s location. ¡°Prime real estate¡± she joked. Even from this far away, I could make out a massive jetty that protruded from the wall beside The Academy. There were several gondolas afloat, mist churning beneath the hull. As if the floating boat was not ludicrous enough, a towering robed figure, similar to my imaginations of a grim reaper, stood at the stern, a paddle held aloft.


    As if it noticed my gaze, it turned in my direction, revealing its face to be a void. My un-beating heart froze in terror. Gloria responded similarly under the reapers scrutiny and pulled me away from the ledge.


    ¡°Do NOT mess with the Guides.¡± Her tone was severe. ¡°They are the eldest in Hell, and take ghosts and demons back into the cycle of reincarnation. They are, in a sense, the judges of Hell. Even the God of Hell defers to their judgement in everything related to The Cycle.¡±


    ¡°The Cycle?¡± I asked.


    ¡°In a nutshell, the reason for Hell¡¯s existence. The Cycle is the flow of karma - and we are the guardians who exact justice and balance as needed, so that souls can repent and move on¡­ or something like that.¡± It was an oversimplified answer, given she seemed unsatisfied with her own summary. ¡°Reincarnationology is not my fort¨¦¡± she finished.


    ¡°I better start taking notes¡± I joked


    ¡°Oh, you have noooo idea¡±


    We started to walk in the direction of The Academy, along the cliff side, and Gloria beguiled me with stories of her first year in The Academy. Most were stories of last minute panic as deadlines approached and celebrations with peers when subsequently passing by the skin on their teeth.


    It was a pleasant chat, but Gloria¡¯s seemingly human experiences in the setting of Hell struck me as a farce. The dead playing pretend, as if the after-life were the same as the living. Even now, I felt disassociated with  my circumstances.


    ¡°A ghost? Reincarnated into Hell? Why?¡± the questions repeated in my subconscious.


    The walk was neither long nor short, it was as though time was amorphous in Hell. There was a diffused light from the sky but with no clear origin. Instead of a sunset, the light became pixelated, a shadow gradually spreading from thousands of small spots to an encompassing darkness. The light faded from the sky, and the valley began to glow purple. As though the Earth was taking the mantel of light from the sky. The faces that were opaque in the day now became clear, as they were backlit and exposed. The shadows outlining their features darkened but the over exposed flesh turned from beige to white. The ground resembled a chessboard tiled in screams and sorrow. It was a haunting beauty, and a vigilant reminder that I was far from the Earth I called home.


    As we approached the section of cliff directly above the academy, Gloria pointed inland to a town that was a few kilometres away - visible only by lit windows.


    ¡°You are still low on Soul right?¡± she asked


    My Soul bar had recovered a measly two points since embarking on the walk.


    ¡°Yah, no more phasing through the floor, sorry¡­¡± I admitted


    ¡°It¡¯s normal, don¡¯t worry. We can descend from the elevators in UpTown¡± she replied, mimicking the action of patting me on the back, despite there being no physical touch. ¡°Let¡¯s get a bite while we are there.¡± She offered.


    I nodded in agreement and we headed towards the town. There was an aching in my belly that resembled hunger, but not entirely ¨C it made me wonder, do ghosts eat?


    The answer, I soon found out, was ¡°yah, kinda?¡±