Devil's tale

Devil's tale, chapter 37

Three weeks. Avarice had wandered the hell of storms for three whole weeks. His earlier estimate of a nine-day journey seemed almost comically naïve now. He hadn't taken into account the rise and fall of the mountains he'd have to traverse, the difficulty of navigating such a monotone landscape, and the fact that every time he suffered an injury, he had to wait for another predator to come by, so he could kill it and graft its flesh into his own. He didn't encounter many humanoid demons, and the few he did see, appeared savage and not worth engaging. They were barely even able to speak hellish, and they didn't seem to understand the magic they wielded, often accidentally discharging shocks of lightning for no reason at all. For his part, Avarice had taken to talking to himself in an attempt to stay sane, throughout his savage solitude. He wondered aloud how Jazz and Emily were doing, if Roland still lived, how Robert might be holding up, and he spoke sometimes, about Farris and his parents. Talking to himself also helped distract Avarice from his increasing fatigue. Finding food was difficult, and whatever he found, was usually some demonic animal, which no matter what magic Avarice used, always tasted rancid. He often went for an hour or more, trying not to throw up, as he didn't want to drain his stomach of what little nutrients he could find. If this was what the least intense layer of hell was like, Avarice shuddered to think what the subsequent circles entailed. As he summited another mountain, he spotted something in the distance. His heart skipped as he recognised a large, ornate gateway. He looked at his map, the structure matched its description. He'd found the way out. He paced himself as he made his way towards the gate. He knew danger could still lurk around every corner. After another hour of cautious walking, Avarice stood before the gate. The entranceway opened up into another dark staircase, much like the one Avarice had descended to get to hell in the first place, and wind blew and whistled from the pathway like demonic whispers. Avarice placed his foot on the first step, and a strong gust of wind blew from the stairs and whipped his hair and coat into a frenzy. In hellish, the wind almost seemed to hiss.

"Ssssssssin..."

Avarice strode forwards, down into the darkness, lighting his way with a flame, conjured in his palm.

"Sin..." The wind whispered again, and with a sudden woosh, Avarice's fire went out. He was surrounded by total blackness. He tired to conjure another flame, but it was no use. It was like this darkness was a physical thing, rather than just the absence of light.

"Part the darkness around, by embracing the shadows within..."

Avarice closed his eyes. Once, he might have flat-out refused any idea of accepting his internal sins. He remembered Emily's words, that everyone, human or devil, had struggles and had flaws. He knew now that if he acknowledged his flaws, he could better control them, and maybe even use them for good. The focused on the sin that had kept him alive throughout his journey through the circle of storms. Gluttony. His gluttony, his will to eat, to survive, to the point of killing other living things and consuming them, to stave off his own death. A sin was only a sin, when applied in extremes. Gluttony was an extension of hunger. Avarice felt no shame for his actions, he let the knowledge of what he had done pass over him and through him. He accepted his hunger, his will to survive, the thing that had saved him so many years ago, when he'd been a street-urchin, starving and with no one to help him. If he had not had the capacity for gluttony, he'd have died long ago.

Avarice opened his eyes, and he could see the staircase in front of him again. The darkness had parted, revealing a small speck of light, further down the steps. Avarice ran down the stairs. He stepped out into a thin, dimly lit cavern. The light came from several small, chromatic crystals, lodged in the rocks. The air was even more oppressive than the realm of storms, and what was worse, where that circle of hell had at least had wind to ensure the air remained fresh, down here, the air was stagnant. Avarice felt like he was about to vomit, he fell to his knees and placed a hand over his mouth. He looked forward, knowing all he had to do was move forward.

But to his horror, the cave before him, was a dead end. There was no way out. Avarice gritted his teeth. In hellish, he said out loud.

"So that's how it is then? Fine!" He slammed his hands into the ground and, without even realising it, used artistic magic without performing an art first. He twisted his hands, drawing upon his frustration, his determination, his knowledge that he'd already passed the point of no return.

Hours passed by, hours of absolute hell (which honestly, was to be expected, considering where Avarice was). Avarice dug and dug. His hands became bruised, they were covered in cuts, his nails shattered and splintered. Still he kept going, he dug down. As he kept going, his stomach began to growl. He tried using artistic magic on some of the loose rocks around him, but it was no use. As powerful as he was, he'd need an incredibly complex spell to transmute inorganic matter into something edible. It'd take him days just to construct and formulate the proper incantation, and he didn't have that kind of time. After digging for gods knew how long, Avarice finally reached another cave. He fell through the ceiling of the opening in the rock and landed in a dark, narrow passageway carved out of stone. Avarice considered conjuring a flame to light his way, but ultimately decided against it. He'd have a hard time coming by food, if the entire layer of hell was like this, so he had to conserve his energy. He felt his way through the dark cave, wondering if he'd come across a demon. He'd likely be at a disadvantage, considering the demon would likely have some way of dealing with the total darkness. He refused to be caught off guard and he began thinking of ways to counteract a potential ambush. Keeping his mind occupied also helped stave off his increasing fear and fatigue. He wandered for hours, hours turned to days, and if Avarice had not already lost all trace of time, he would have done so all over again. He began to need something stronger to keep his mind focused, he'd begun to accept after wandering alone for so long, that an ambush was unlikely, and his motivation to keep thinking of contingencies lowered. He began to realise something. There had barely been any life in the hell of storms, due to the scarcity of resources. Down here, nothing grew and there was no light nor fresh air to sustain even the most basic forms of life.

This layer of hell was dead.

Determined to keep his mind sharp, he instead thought of Jazz and Emily, back in the mortal world. What were they up to? Were they asleep, awake, were they thinking of him? Avarice imagined both of them, relaxing in the City of Water and he forced himself to smile. His thoughts began to wander again, he needed something more concrete to keep his concentration. He imagined what Jazz might be doing to keep himself entertained, and his mind created the rather colourful image of the crusty goblin sitting in a brothel, surrounded by beautiful women and laughing crassly. Avarice chuckled at the thought. Then he imagined Emily, he hoped she was okay. But he'd been hoping she was okay the entire time he'd been stuck in hell, he needed to think of something specific. He needed something to motivate him to keep going, to get out of hell and return to the mortal world. He gave in and imagined being with Emily, after he returned. He imaged her having the same knowledge that he did, about lovers and what they did with each other. He thought of finally being able to satisfy his desires. As strange as it seemed to him, the thought of being able to sleep with Emily, of all things, gave Avarice the mental fuel he needed to press on. He knew if Roland or Robert ever found out that he was trudging through hell with tits and ass as his motivation, he'd never hear the end of it. He also told himself, that it wasn't just about his desire for Emily, he also wanted her to be fully capable of forming her own desires. He knew she'd felt feelings of lust, there was no way she hadn't, and he wanted her to be able to reconcile those feelings. He realised that if he wanted her to accept that it wasn't necessarily a sin to lust after someone, then he should be able to accept the same thing. As he thought these things, he heard a whisper in his ear.

"Sin... sin and acceptance..."

Suddenly, Avarice's foot landed on empty air. He gasped for a second, before his boot touched down on a flat surface, the shape of a step on a staircase. Had he already opened the portal to the next layer? He chuckled to himself and allowed himself to conjure a fireball. He chucked it down the stairs, revealing only further darkness. It seemed like no traps awaited him. He stepped forward and downward, deeper into hell.

What met him when the shadows cleared, was a familiar, noxious air. Avarice opened his eyes, and he was surrounded by sickly, green fog. His karma for killing Mormir, seemed to be finally catching up to him.