Infernal Rivalry - The Clash Of Vox And Alastor

Chapter 8 : Something About Status

(Vox's POV)

We settle onto the sofa, the weight of todays revelations still heavy on my mind. Alastor graciously offers me a drink of whisky, which I accept with gratitude. As the liquid warms my throat, I can't help but feel a sense of calm wash over me, despite the lingering questions that continue to nag at my thoughts. "Alastor" I begin, nervously, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled between us, "Why did you take me home with you?". Alastor considering my question for a moment, his expression thoughtful as he searches for the right words. "Honestly, Vox, I'm not too sure, it's out of character for me" he admitted with a shrug. "My shadow seemed interested in you. It saw something in you that intrigued it. And well, I decided to trust it's judgement". I nod slowly, processing Alastor's response. It's a strange feeling, knowing that I've been brought into this peculiar situation on the whim of a shadow. What would he have done to me, if the shadow didn't show interest. But as I glance at Alastor, his confidence and reassurance offer me a sense of comfort. "Thank you" I say sincerely, grateful for his willingness to extend a helping hand, even when the reasons may not be entirely clear. He offers me a warm smile in return, "Anytime, Vox" he replies softly, "we're in this together now".

"What exactly is an overlord?" I inquire. He sets his glass down, his gaze thoughtful as he considers my question. "Overlords" he begins, "They're a class of very powerful demons here in Hell. They hold considerable sway and influence over certain domains, gaining and increasing their power by owning souls". I listen intently, absorbing Alastor's words as he continues to explain. "You see, Vox, in Hell, souls are currency. The more souls and overlord possess the more powerful they become. There are other factors, like what you did in your mortal life, but it is mostly about collecting souls". I nod slowly, the gravity of his words sinking in, the concept of souls as currency, is a chilling reminder of the harsh realities of this realm. "They're the ones who call the shots, pulling the strings behind the scenes and exerting their influence over lesser demons and souls alike. In short, they're some of the top dogs of Hell" he finishes. My eyes widen at his explanation, the magnitude of the overlords' power dawning on me. "Are you one of them, Alastor?" I ask, unable to mask the curiosity in my voice. He meets my gaze with a knowing smile, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Yes, Vox" he replies simply. "I am an overlord". A sense of awe washes over me as I realize the magnitude of Alastor's status in Hell. To be in the presence of such power is both exhilarating and terrifying. "Wow" I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper.

My mind buzzes with questions, each one more pressing than the last. "How exactly does one go about owning souls? How does that happen?" I ask. "Well, owning souls in Hell is a complex matter. It's not just a matter of taking them by force; it's about persuasion, manipulation and sometimes, even negotiation" he answers, his tone measured. I lean in, hanging onto his every word, eager to learn more about this dark and mysterious aspect of Hell, "Go on", I urge. "Demons have various methods of acquiring souls" Alastor explains, his voice tinged with a hint of gravitas. "Some lure mortals into making deals with them, promising power or wealth in exchange for their souls. Some use contracts. Others prey on the vulnerable, exploiting their fears and weaknesses to gain control over them". I listen intently, "What about you? How did you get yours? And once a demon owns a soul? What happens then?", I prompt. Alastor's expression darkens, a shadow passing over his features, but that same smile remaining. "I am a deal maker, an old-fashioned hand shake kind of deal" he starts, "It depends on what the deal or exchange is, some souls are free to go after the deal has been completed, not that those are seen often, some are constantly bound to the owner's side and some are called upon when needed" he explains.

My mind races with apprehension as I consider the implications of Alastor's words. "So, Alastor" I venture cautiously, "are you going to try and... get my soul?". He chuckles softly, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh, Vox" he replies, his voice laced with playful sarcasm, "You flatter yourself. Trust me. I've got something far more important in my mind for you. If I wanted your soul, I would already have it". I lean towards him, curiosity piqued by his cryptic response. "Oh? And what might that be?" I ask. His grin widens "Now, now, Vox" he teases, "A gentleman never reveals all his secrets at once. You'll just have to wait and see". I roll my eyes playfully at his evasive answer, but I can't deny the excitement and nerves bubbling within me at the prospect of whatever Alastor has in store.

As the night wears on and the hour grows late, Alastor and I bid each other goodnight and retire to our respective rooms. I settle into bed, the events of the day swirling through my mind as I try to drift off to sleep. Just as I begin to close my eyes, I notice a faint shadow slipping into the room, its form flickering in the dim light. "Does Alastor know you're here?" I whisper softly, addressing the shadow with a mix of curiosity and amusement. The shadow remains silent, but its movements betray a sense of mischief as it glides closer, its movements almost playful. It comes to rest by the side of the bed, its presence both comforting and intriguing. I extend my hand tentatively, reaching out to stroke the shadow's ears. To my surprise, it responds with a gentle nuzzle, pressing its shadowy head against my hand in a gesture of affection. A sense of warmth washes over me, as I continue to stroke the shadow's form, its presence a soothing balm in the darkness of the night. With each gentle stoke, I feel a sense of connection with this enigmatic being, a silent companion in the quiet hours of the night. I finally succumb to sleep, the gentle rhythm of my hand stoking the shadows form lulling me into a peaceful slumber.