Page 16 of Hell-Bound

Drawing nearer, she noticed how the purple glow was refracting off each structure, reminding her of the light of the stars shimmering on the ocean waves.

Sneaking around the back of the buildings, she observed that they were made of a reinforced mountainous rock filled with gemstones that adhered the various parts together. Blues, greens, reds, a rainbow of splendor crisscrossed each facade. It was magnificent. The veins looked simultaneously sinister and expensive. The rough, porous rock gave way to the smooth iridescent crystals. Once close enough to touch, she ran herfingers over the wall. The contrast in texture sent ripples of pleasure through her fingers and up her arms.

Why would anyone value cold coins of the Mortal plane when these glorious jewels existed?

She wanted them.

She imagined people looking on in envy and admiration. She saw herself adorned in exquisite jewelry, surrounded by people from all races and classes, smiling and asking if they,too,could touch the glittering treasure.

Darling. Don’t tease me,she heard purr in her ears.

That voice again. But this time she truly hadheardthe voice. Like a gentle whisper of someone leaning in to share a secret. The caress of a breath. A male’s voice, more identifiable now.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

She waited for a response, eyes darting around wildly, gripping the dagger that was secured to her belt.

No response.

“Show your face,” she hissed, trying not to raise her voice above a threatening whisper.

A chuckle.

You can’t help yourself. That’s fine. You’ll get used to that, pet.

The stroke of breath on her ears caused an involuntary shiver.

“Who are you!?” she demanded.

No response.

It’s just this place,she thought stubbornly, barrelling forward as if she could out-walk the specter. As she dashed, he noticed the trail of black vapor she left in her wake.

Not good.

She kept herself out of sight, darting from the back of glimmering buildings until she felt alone again. To her dismay, the distraction had forced her several miles into the city, and now had even less of an idea of how to get to the Denizen’s Tower.

She poked her head out from behind one of the smaller edifices and spotted the first inhabitants of Ogriazeth.

They were dressed in what could only be described as rags. Renata could not qualify these gray and brown fabrics as something resembling clothing. Her pants and tunic, road-worn and in need of washing, looked positively regal in comparison.

The people walked sluggishly as they made their way through the city, faces dirty with soot and walking with their backs arched as if carrying an invisible load.

To her surprise, not all of them were Devils. There were people from her world—from the Mortal Plane. Humans, Elves, and Fae were all walking and groaning as they meandered to their various destinations.

One woman was tugging at a smaller Gnomish male, trying to keep him on his feet while he staggered wearily. Another tall, Elven male was coughing, spewing black liquid from his throat. The several others she saw weren’t faring much better, looking gaunt and pale.

Renata felt nauseous. She had never seen such suffering. She had never experienced, from her recollection, such misery.

Her sadness quickly turned to fear. Was this to be her fate? Was this what was supposed to have happened to her? Was sending her to Hell all an elaborate trick to trap her into this existence?

She felt an overpowering urge to grab each person and throw them into the portal—rescue them from this torment. But her portal was long gone, and she could not call it back.

Renata swiftly reached into her bag and pulled out her piccolo. She wasn’t quite sure what she hoped to do, but her internal musician demanded something of her. The piccolo thrummed in her hands encouragingly.

Breathing steadily, she walked into the open street, closed her eyes, and played.

This song was mournful. She wasn’t sure if these people would appreciate something dismissively upbeat. Instead, shedecided to play from her heart. The side of it that felt lost and scared about the future, but even more scared about the past.