Page 6 of An Unexpected Ascension (A War Between Worlds #1)

The Demon

Aheavy blanket of fog rests atop the blackened waters we journey. Marty hasn’t stopped sobbing, wiping his nose along the back of his forearm relentlessly. I’ve seen things far more grotesque than snot coating the skin of a man, yet I still find myself looking away in disgust.

His body reeks of terror and desperation, ruining the tranquility of this ride. The man shivers despite the growing heat as we near the shores of Hell, quickly forcing my tolerance for his insufferable pouting to rapidly vanish. Lucifer won’t be bothered with the likes of him.

Unlike Heaven, the dwellers here do not stay until they meet their new God. Forget the many whispers painting Hell as a lawless torture chamber meant to trap the worst of humankind, there’s only a half-truth there. Rather, Hell is merely a world cast in misfortune for those that do not fit the strict bylaws of Heaven.

What most think they know, what they’ve been taught on Earth, is that Lucifer was nothing short of a fallen angel. Except, that angel rose into a God turned Devil, a misunderstood deity who once fought for what he believed was right and ultimately paid the price.

So, naturally, those that do not believe in a God or even those that are accepting of Hell, are worthy of this place and Lucifer has no desire to change that.

“He’s gonna set you ablaze and wipe your soul from eternity if you don’t quit all that noise,”

Charon warns.

Marty wails, muttering to himself how fucked he is.

“I’d listen to my friend here. He’s trying to be helpful,”

I snap, irritably.

“W-what’s going to happen to me?”

I shrug.

“I don’t know, Marty. If you actually stop whining for two seconds, he’ll probably just threaten you a bit and move onto the next guy. Keep up the blubbering and you’ll find yourself rotting for eternity.”

He sniffles loudly, and I can practically hear the mucus being sucked to the back of his throat.

“Look, don’t you want an afterlife of freedom with at the very least a small chance of seeing your family again?”

“A chance... Do you think?—”

“Marty, there’s more of a chance you’ll see your wife and kids if you’re still walking around than feeding the very thirsty soil.”

He nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“Hell ain’t so bad, once you get used to it.”

Charon tries again.

Marty looks up at the reddened sky, clouds like blood clots loom low atop the peaks of the canyons beside us. In the distance, the shore made of molten lava glows brightly, our travels nearly coming to an end.

A bead of sweat slithers down the side of his aged face and I can only infer that the heat is new to him.

“Will—”

he swallows a ball of nerves.

“will the ground burn me?”

My eyes follow his to the brightly lit lot. Oranges and yellows writhe between cracks of charred black rock, steam bellowing from the crevices.

“No. It’s more for show. Just don’t touch it. Though the heat isn’t as right as it would be on Earth, the lava will still melt the skin right off your bones should you decide to indulge your curiosities.”

As the ferry comes to a stop, the tip of the boat nearing the shoreline, Marty closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath.

I salute Charon, and with the bones of his fingers, he returns the gesture. That gruesome smile wrinkles the remaining skin left on his jaw. I watch the water barely ripple as I enter, soaking the pants around my ankles through.

“Let’s go,”

I urge, and with more courage, Marty follows.

It’s always family that renews their drive, though the chance of him actually reuniting in Hell is probably slimmer than I have led on, but not entirely zero. Nonetheless, there’s no reentry to Heaven, so no point in dwelling.

The hike over the lava shores isn’t as cumbersome as the one through the Portae Inferi. The same forest most find in Purgatory, at death.

Hell was created by the Gods as a prison for the morally corrupt and for those that do not deserve the purity of Heaven. Its lands ruled by untamable beasts and deadly terrain. Upon Lucifer’s arrival, Hell changed, but his rule only stretched so far.

Now, here I am, delivering fallen angels to the God of Hell. In Heaven, I may be seen as a lowly demon carrying out the will of the Devil, but here in my world, I am so much more than that.

The Devil and I save that little secret from the Gods. Should they know I hold any power, my access to freely walk Heaven would be quickly revoked. So, for now, I continue carrying out my duties as Lucifer’s servant by escorting our newcomers through the forested Portae Inferi.

Though, none of us can die, there’s still the high possibility of becoming a meandering zombie or food for the Hell Hounds and what good would a mangled body do for us?

“Oh God!”

Marty cries as we near the forest.

We stop, soaking in the sight of shredded flesh hanging from trees like greying ribbons strewn about, their limbs decorated with the rotting meat of those that did not make it home. Scattered along the forest floor are cracked bones, some big and some small, all human. There’s a low, guttural groan one right after the other, that sings a melody of pain and torture. It worms its way into your soul and feasts on your conscience.

Alone, Marty finally realizes the horrific song is from the crows perched along the tree branches. Here and there, the noises stop as they peck away at the hanging flesh like worms early in the morning.

“Just keep quiet and follow me. Show no fear. These insatiable beasts will smell it on you a mile away.”

I make a point of sniffing the man.

I have no doubt this will be less than a smooth trek.

A loud, ear-bleeding scream echoes the moment we step foot on the path and another just feet away. The crows can smell him like the smoke from an extinguished flame that’s spent far too long charring its kindling.

“Keep moving,” I growl.

He does, his body nearly attached to mine. I can feel his bones rattle with terror and his teeth chattering endlessly.

“Get it together, Marty, or we’re never making it. You’ll end up with your skull pecked clean and your bones as toothpicks for the hounds.”

He shakes himself off, one limb after another, jumping a few times to rid himself of his useless feelings. I’m starting to find that this man thrives on being ordered about. It’s proving to be quite convenient.

We trudge over uneven ground, following the trail to the gates of his new home. Every so often, the screams and cries of crows elicit a startled jump from him, but slowly, he grows used to it.

“How do you live like this?”

he asks, befuddled.

“Easy. This forest is a very little part of my life. My life is beyond the gates of Hell, in the depths of the city. I’m handsomely rewarded for my servitude to the Lord. I lack nothing, want for nothing, need for nothing. I’m content, more so than I ever was on Earth. My question to you is how ever did you tolerate Heaven?”

He balks.

“What do you mean? It’s Heaven! It’s everything a good person would ever want. It’s beautiful, peaceful, there’s so much fulfillment?—”

“Yeah, so the saints say. Tell me, Marty, did you ever find yourself enjoying the better parts of heaven? Ever miss the touch of a woman or of a hefty pour of a spicy bourbon?”

“I-I...”

He stops in thought.

“A decedent slice of chocolate cake or an outburst of rage captured by a single word. You should say it. Come on now. Say it. FUCK.”

His eyes widen as if he hasn’t heard the explicative in ages, let alone speak it. Shaking his head in fear of repercussion, I smirk, steadily encouraging him to let loose.

“I-I can’t. Don’t ask me to, Hermes,”

he whispers at last, a plead to hang onto this only thread of dignity.

“Do what you want, that’s your given right down here in Hell, but know, there won’t be any consequences for speaking what’s on your mind. Talk about your death, feel your feelings – far away from me of course – and do whatever it is you do to get you through eternity. All your fears are misguided. However, I will promise you this, shortly after you settle in and see just how wrong your Gods are – not just about Lucifer or Hell – but about everything, you will begin to understand. Rage will consume you and when that day comes, I’ll be waiting to satiate that festering hatred chipping away at your sanity.”

“Hatred? For what? My God housed me, loved me, gave me a second chance and I ruined it. It was my own fault.”

“Oh, poor, dumb Marty. Whatever gets you through this afterlife.”

He stumbles over a femur bone, grumbling to himself.

He will see it one day, the difference between worlds.

Why the concepts we’ve governed here in Hell are nothing of the stories spread on Earth.

That Heaven is a mirage, a monster’s mouth hidden behind a beatific golden mask.

You don’t know you’ve been eaten alive until you’re in the belly of the beast, and by then, it’s either too late or you’re thrown into the bowels of Hell.

Yet, our shit is better than their gold.

“You don’t know me. I’m loyal. I prayed to my God every day. Worshipped every moment I could?—”

“And here you are in Hell. What does that tell you, Marty?”

His mouth snaps shut, and fury roils in the faded blue of his weathered eyes. I don’t miss the way his hands ball into fists, but if pressed, he’ll deny his loyalties are starting to waver despite the obvious shift inside of him.