Satan's Captive

1

The descent was surprisingly gentle, the dark angels careful to fly in a slow spiral so Kaitlyn wouldn't pass out. She was alive and vulnerable, after all, not one of Satan's demons or the endless Damned tortured incessantly in his hellfires. Nor was this a dream. If they dropped her—that would be the end to Satan's plans.

You could still stop this, rose a brave voice.

I could struggle, she agreed, and fall to my death.

Despite all that she'd done, she could still redeem herself. Even if it meant floating in purgatory or burning in one of Satan's hellfires. No longer Kaitlyn. No longer Satan's vessel.

She did nothing as they descended through the clouds. Kaitlyn held her breath as the smoke stung her nose and made her eyes water. The heat was incredible as the angels carefully avoided the hills of towering flames threatening to snatch them from the sky. Her shirt stuck to her back. Her sweater stuck to her shirt. Her hair was plastered to her head. The heat even managed to turn the icy grips of The Fallen warm. What kept the hellfires burning? What fuel did they subsist on? Or was it simply Satan's hatred that kept them lit?

Kaitlyn squinted through her tear-filled eyes as they bypassed black and broken mountains and gigantic smoking volcanos that poured filth into the air, turning the sky dark.

The smoky atmosphere began to clear and Kaitlyn sucked in a deep breath. She could see the ground. She could see the familiar oily black rivers and the seas of dancing flames. There were ash-covered beaches and dark creatures that scuttled between hell's dangerous and often fantastically impossible land formations. She could hear the screaming—the Damned. The billions tortured in Satan's flames.

She'd seen it all before. But this was different. This was real. No more dreams. No more waking up. This was for good.

As they touched ground, The Fallen released her. Out of the hundreds who had stormed the church, only six now remained. One by one, they flew off, their great beating wings kicking up a flurry of ash that made Kaitlyn sneeze. She watched them disappear into the smoke like crows, preferring not to look ahead to what awaited her.

Satan's castle. Satan himself.

Was he awaiting her on his throne? Or on his giant four-poster bed with its black, silken sheets? Kaitlyn swallowed.

One dark angel remained standing beside her. Her guardian, it seemed. Wordlessly, he pointed towards the doors to Lucifer's castle. They towered above her. Heavy rock with intricate pictures carved into them. One was open slightly, leading onto a familiar hallway.

Kaitlyn stepped back. 'I don't ... I don't think I want to.'

She glanced across her shoulder towards the nearest fire. Even at a distance, it made her sweat. A bead of moisture trickled down the side of her face. What if she threw herself into it? Before more damage could be done? She could race over there and burn herself alive. She could end it all. She could end it all right now!

Before she could think, before she could act, a freezing hand seized her wrist. Kaitlyn jerked her head towards the remaining Fallen with a start. She couldn't mistake the warning in his deep black eyes. It was as though he knew what she was thinking.

'Go,' he said, pointing again at the castle.

Kaitlyn wiped her forehead. The Fallen released her and she trudged up towards the doors. Her legs had never felt so heavy. They seemed to lumber beneath her like tree stumps. The ashen ground was soft and difficult. If she thought hard enough, she could almost imagine that she was on a beach somewhere, leaving footprints in the sand. Safe. With friends or family. Or maybe just happy in her own company.