The fallen.

Chapter 17.

Days have passed, but the darkness does not seem to wane and apparently neither does the pain.
Belle lay there quietly reeling in pain, but despite the time that has passed, she was still unable to recall anything. Not who she was, not how she got there. The only thing her brain was able to piece together was that she was in hell, the abyss, the nether, the underworld. Was this where she belonged? If so, what was her purpose here?
Then for the first time in days she feels another presence with her, a firm and cold hand is placed on her shoulder and at the same time all the darkness is dispelled and so is her pain. The sudden rush of light into her eyes forces her to close them for a while then slowly open them again. Behold squatting before her in an intricately decorated bedroom was a young man wearing a well tailored black suit with short, spiky jet black hair and a short pointed goatee. His narrowed turquoise colored eyes and his subtle grin together with his perfectly defined jaw and cheek lines give him the appearance of a charmingly dangerous villain, one which no matter how much you try, you can't resist.
"Hey beautiful" he says with a wink.
As he squats there looking down at her, all her memories suddenly come rushing back into her head. He was her twin brother Marc. With a sigh she gets up and pushes him away.
"Son of a bitch. Why'd you wait that long to wake me up?"
He stands up and rolls his eyes. "I couldn't wake you up earlier because the time wasn't right. You're welcome by the way."
She ignores his sarcastic remark and proceeds to another question.
"What's the situation? Brief me, you got five seconds."
"It's faint but I feel Hades' presence in the other world"
"Faint? What is he doing?"
"How would I know? But he's not one to slack of for too long, he'll be fully awakened in a few days"
"He'd better. Wait what of our other situation?"
Marc hesitates before he finally answers.
"We haven't heard from the Alastair triplets since our last encounter. I feel it won't be long before they come out of hiding."
An expression of anger and frustration creeps into Belle's face.
"When they do...the outcome will be different from last time." She declares with bloodlust and rage seeping out of her mouth.
"What are you planning little one? You're not in any condition to fight right now"
"Why not?" She asks, this question is met with a raised eyebrow by Marc.
"Are you seriously asking that? Tsk. Anyways, I fear the spell used on you last time will affect your combat performance considerably."
"I'm perfectly fine" She protests.
"No you're not. The spell our enemy used on you is called Eternal perdition. It is a spell that's supposed to forever trap you in a dark never ending loop of total confusion and pain. It's a miracle that I was able to break it. Even if I did, there's a high chance that it's gonna fuck with your psyche for a while. You need to rest."
"Okay and what happens if we get attacked?"
"I'll fight them off." His declaration is met by a sneer from her.
"Oh shut up, you know you can't."
"You question my strength little one?"
"I'm not questioning your strength, hell no. I just doubt its existence."
He groans in indignation and clenches his fists.
"Okay how about this; if you can make my back touch the ground, then I'll know that you're still in perfect fighting form, deal?"
"Oh you are so going down" Even before she finishes her statement, she lunges forward to land a heavy punch on his left temple, one which he effortlessly dodges with a little step backward.

THREE WEEKS AGO.
On the peak of a very high mountain, the clouds and sky are red, and the sound of thunder vibrates the place. On this faithful day, Marc is seen clad in a thick, tight leather sleeved shirt and an equally thick and tight pair of leather pants. Beside him is Belle wearing similar clothing, her blonde ponytail billows wildly in the strong winds. On her face sits a pair of turquoise colored eyes which lie above a perfectly aquiline nose and thin pink lips. Her skin which was perhaps her most distinctive feature was as immaculately white as snow, giving her a somewhat ghostly appearance.
"I don't like this" Marc mutters. "It won't end well"
"We have no choice. The Alastair siblings dared to undermine our supremacy as lords of the nether. They must pay"
"That is true but think about it, for them to do that it must mean they have some hidden power. Is it wise to confront an opponent whose abilities you do not know about?"
"Your worry is uncalled for brother. We have access to every ounce of dark energy in this realm. Nothing they do can possibly harm us."
He hesitates for a while before he mutters. "I think they should know that" Even before he finishes his statement, he feels a very sharp pain in his face as though something was smacked against it, then before he knew it, he was sent flying several feet backward. However, due to his sharp warrior instinct, he summersaults midair and lands on his feet. When he looks ahead, he sees a shirtless man with a silver colored sleeping serpent wound around his waist with its head resting on his right shoulder standing where he was standing only a second ago, a wicked grin is displayed on his face.
Belle was dumbstruck, one second ago her brother was standing beside her, now this man was there and her brother was far away. She looks at him and immediately recognizes the his white hair knotted into a small ponytail at the back of his head and the white stripes on his face and chest.
"Lorcán Alastair. I've always wondered, is that chalk on your face?" She takes a battle stance and a black aura envelopes her.
"Filth like you isn't worthy of knowing what lies on my face..." He is interrupted by a strong fist from nowhere which lands on his face and dislocates his jaw. The impact causes him to stagger a bit. When he regains composure he looks on and sees Marc standing near him with his left fist raised to his shoulder level and a similarly black aura surrounding him. As he speaks, the ground tremors beneath their feet.
"You! Now I know why you and your brothers are bold enough to challenge us. You don't use energy from this realm do you? If you did, I would have detected when you were coming."
Lorcán just stands there using his hands to realign his jaw.
"Damn, that punch hurt like a bitch!"
Belle suddenly reaches for his neck but he jumps back at the last second, she immediately follows up with her other hand going straight for his chest with an open palm. Immediately contact is made, a red pentagram forms there.
"I've got you now!" She declares clapping her hands together. As she does this, green flames suddenly erupt from the pentagram engulfing him completely. "Be reduced to ash by the great flames of hell!"
They watch amidst bated breaths as the fires rage on and simultaneously gasp as they hear his voice from inside the inferno.
"Oh? You've got me? Who decided that? Reduced to ash? Don't make me laugh!"
Suddenly, the flames disintegrate revealing Lorcán standing there unharmed. His green eyes glow very brightly and the sleeping serpent wound around him rears its head slightly. As a hiss escapes its mouth, it opens its all white eyes.
"Nephthys!" In response to its name, it hisses again. At this point Lorcán's eyes were completely fixed on Marc as if locking on to him.
"Fetch me his soul!"