The Undivulged Son

Prologue

Hailbuzar's POV

The wails of the deprived, the tormented, the deceived, and the pertinent were mimicked by the walls of their eternal cage. Two torches were mounted on both sides of the metal double door. It lit the grimy hallway with a sick yellow, its faint glow pausing right before the pitch darkness of groaning cages lining each side of the narrow passage.

A diagonal crack split across the glass in my rugged grip, and a thin stream of water trickled down my knuckles, evaporating upon hitting the stone floor in a quivering hiss.

My bright red feet glimmered in the dim lightening, a sharp contrast to the darker pools of pungent red that crept from the screaming cells. I scrounged my nose as my nostrils stung with the putrid stench the groveling humans emitted.

I took a deep breath, breaking my concentration to welcome the crippled yells of the caged mortals. He did warn me not to come here, though.

It was funny that despite being his son, he dared put restrictions on me like I was some child belonging to a Christian family.
Still, I was no fool to willingly go against him. I was just his child and not a favored one at that. I did not want to betray him but I could not help it, she needed me and I couldn't turn a blind eye on her plea.

Each cell in this dungeon showed various tortures that humans go through. Each human screamed in different heights of volumes.
Each human had a sin to repent; they had a sin to suffer for, for an eternity. In this dungeon, they will finally realize there was a God, but they had no right to call His name anymore.

My tiny hand curled around one of the bars of a cell. The human caged in front of me, rushed out from the darkness that once embraced her. The shackles bounding her ankles made a clanging sound with each step she took.

Her bare and tattered skin was out for show. Whip marks, bite marks, and burn marks were scattered over the expanse of her form. Yet, despite being torn as she was, she still had a gentle expression that warmed my heart.

A smile took place on her dry lips as she glanced at me. She shakily took the water I held from my hands and gulped it down to quench her thirst. She wanted more, but I could only manage to fetch her that one glass of water.

"Thank you, dear," she murmured, her throat still dry and croaky.

She passed her hands through the bars to give me the glass. She gestured at me to come closer, and when I did, she stroked my cheek and stared at me longingly. "I had a little kid just like you before I died."

Her tears trickled down her cheeks and raced their way to her chapped lips.

I placed my little thumb on her cheek and wiped her tears. My tender touch seemed to remind her of a fond memory that must be the only thing keeping her sane.

She ruffled her disheveled long brown hair and pursed her lips. Letting out soft sobs, she closed her eyes tightly. Abruptly, she began to wail loudly, rubbing her hands all over her naked self. Her face wrinkled, and she yelled as loud as she could.

I didn't like seeing her this way. She deserved much better than this. Hell was no place for a human like her.

"I don't want this anymore." She shook her head slowly and swallowed deep, shaky breaths. "I need to go back to my family. My daughter needs me."

I just stared at her, not knowing what to say. Fresh blood streamed down the open wounds that suddenly appeared on her skin.
She held a handful of her blood-stained hair and screamed, her skin tainted with thick crimson liquid.

Her weak eyes locked with my orbs, and she threw on a lacklustre smile, trying to look strong. " I can't stand you seeing me this way. Let me tell you a story so you can leave."