The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 75: Abandon All Hope

Kieran stared at the archway above him. He held Esila's hand as they began to complete their journey. They had continued treading the green plains, even while the sun and sky had shifted their colors into a darker, blood-stained shade.

The stone was old but far from clean– seemingly maintained by a crew each week, polishing what could have been dull stone and managing the structure of a clear, old age.

Right at the center, he noticed the words carved into them. He couldn't make them out, for they were of a language he didn't understand at all. Something demonic, or maybe– no, that was Latin, he realized. But before those thoughts processed, before they stepped past the arch...

A single man appeared before them, standing right past the boundary, just a few feet before them. He gave neither of them a chance to speak, and instead introduced himself first.

"My name is Mephisto. P. Heles. It's a pleasure to meet you. If I may ask, what is your purpose in your visit?"

Kieran opened his mouth, but retracted his thoughts. That was a difficult question. After all, honesty should never be the first thought due to the nature of his quest. Still, matters of life and death cannot be shoveled through with lie after lie. His heart was still fearful of being cursed for it, all things considered.

He took a second to himself, pausing on what he could say. "Wait..." he mumbled.

"I'm waiting for someone here," Kieran brought himself to say. "That's all."

"I see!" Mephisto exclaimed. "You're not being entirely direct with the truth, but you're not lying. For that, I have nothing to hold against you. Please, follow me and enter our administrative castle. There's a firestorm coming, and I do not recommend you stay outside for it."

'Firestorm?!'

Esila let go of Kieran's hand and hurried to Mephisto's side, as if she herself was concerned about this 'firestorm'. Kieran turned around and stared up at the black clouds that loomed closer and closer. By Earth's standards, the storm was two hours away, maybe three.

This was the first time he wished the UnderWorld had more of a disconnect than Earth. He prayed that the storm was a bit further– that the storm wouldn't keep Alexander out or away.

He turned back and scurried along to catch up to the two demons as they sped through the double doors that carried them into a marvel. Compared to Osdohrne's dull castle, it was gorgeous. No, no, no, not just compared to that travesty...

In all matters of the truth, it was brilliant. Glimmering and glistening with precious stones and gems, the structure was only fit for kings. Not just Esila, but also Kieran felt out of place standing on floors built of solid purple crystal that reflected the light of the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. The walls were black and blue, lit up by the torches on the wall and extending into corridor upon corridor.

There wasn't a single window, but not one was needed when surrounded by such maddening luxury, which all stood in complete contrast to Mephisto's self.

Mephisto was wearing the last thing Kieran expected for a demon. He was dressed in a monk's habit, old and shaggy brown cloth, loose over his body, with a hood drooping behind his head.

But as he smiled, flashing his sharp fang-like teeth while his eyes glistened with a blood-orange glow, he served Kieran a reminder of who and what he was.

Kieran turned his head and avoided eye contact, aiming his sights on the ceiling once again. They were painted, bright colors flowing and flashing from above, divided into sections and each displaying what seemed to be a tale of conflict. Kieran paused. No, not conflict. Death, he realized, was the theme.