Devil's tale

Devil's tale, chapter 41

The air was suffocatingly hot. Ash fell from a blackened sky like snow and the landscape was barren and grey, with trees made of stone that had leaves made of fire. Rivers of lava flowed in the distance and tiny sparks of orange flame flickered through the air. Strangely enough, despite the literally hellish conditions around him, he felt comfortable, like there was something familiar or rather, something homely about the wasteland around him.

Avarice heard a voice whisper in his head. "I'm waiting..."

He gritted his teeth and stepped forward. As far as he was concerned, this was his last stop before returning to the mortal world. He walked in solitude and silence for days on end. He soon realised that though he was growing tired, he didn't feel hungry or thirsty. He tried creating a flame, only meaning to make a small spark. A massive fireball shot from his hand. He felt at his magic-reserves and the power he'd used to make the flames almost instantly replenished itself. Avarice realised he was in his own domain, a place where fire-devils reigned supreme. The very essence of this realm fed and nourished him. He could walk on for an eternity before he died of starvation or thirst. And so he walked. He lost track of what little sense of time he had left as he waited for demons to attack him. But nothing happened. He was left alone with his thoughts, just like when he had first set out on his journey, what felt like an eternity ago. This time however, he wasn't walking away from a place that shunned him, but rather towards a place that had the answers he sought. He wasn't running away from a fear, he was chasing after a desire. All of this had started because he'd been curious about his heritage, all because he'd snuck into a library to read a book. Well now, the reason all this had started would finally come to fruition. He looked forward and finally, after walking for so long through wasteland of ash and fire, he saw a building. The structure made Mordukein's fortress look like a ramshackle shed. It was a massive, black tower surrounded by a moat of fire. The top of the tower was hidden above a massive canopy of ashen clouds. Massive beasts flew around the tower like monstrous birds and with a shock, Avarice realised what they were, dragons, dozens if not hundreds of dragons flying above the outskirts of the tower. Even at the distance he stood, he could tell the smallest ones were already twice as large as Rheagos had been.

"So... that's what I've got to climb huh? Are you waiting for me at the top?" Avarice mused aloud. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Emily's holy-symbol. He looked at it and wondered if since he was now in a realm he was attuned to, he would be able to cast holy-magic. He shook his head, even if he could, he didn't know any prayers that could help him. "Wait for me, I'll be back soon." He said, tearing a piece of cloth from his tattered coat and using it to tie the talisman around his neck.

Artistic magic came from his ability to change the world around him, divine magic came from his faith in powers beyond himself and devilish magic came from his own drive, his own desire, his own will. Avarice didn't know if he'd ever be able to fully balance that trifecta within himself, but he knew that if he had one advantage over the army of demons before him, it was his human capacity for artistic magic. He didn't know if demons were capable of that sort of magic, but he'd never seen one use it and he doubted beings as powerful as the ones he was about to face would care to explore new avenues of power when facing off against a single devil.

"Young Avarice!" A voice cried from atop the tower. Avarice nearly fell to his knees from the sheer force of personality and command the voice carried.

"I await you proudly here atop my tower! Make it up here and we can have our long-awaited meeting, my son!"

"I don't suppose you'd be kind enough to throw me a ladder?!" Avarice called back, trying to mask his fear with snark.

The voice laughed. "Unfortunately, nepotism won't get you that far. The law of the hells is that only the strongest survive. Make it to the top and you'll have earned your audience."