Mister Winter walked with Lord Nikimak through a narrow, dimly lit tunnel, the echo of their footsteps mixing with the occasional, muffled cries from the sack Nikimak carried. The sack shook and twisted, the sounds of its captive growing weaker. As they approached a towering, infernal gate guarded by two monstrous hellhounds, the beasts instantly recognized the pair. Both hellhounds growled lowly but obediently stepped aside, allowing passage. The gate creaked open, revealing a narrow stone bridge suspended above an ocean of writhing souls. The cries of the damned rose like a dissonant chorus, their bodies eternally consumed in searing flames, only to regenerate and burn again.
“Such beautiful music, don't you think?” Nikimak commented, almost casually, as they crossed the bridge.
Mister Winter smirked, his hands clasped behind his back. "It's a symphony to the ears of one such as yourself."
At the far end of the bridge stood a massive, grotesque palace, its spires jagged like broken bones, shadowed against the burning sky. Devils and demons alike filled the hallways as the two passed through, each one sneering in disgust or glaring with barely contained fury. To see the sage and the feared Fragment of Gender walking together—two beings untouchable in this infernal realm—made them grind their teeth in frustration.
When the pair reached the grand hall, Lucifer sat upon his throne, the former Morningstar glaring at them with thinly veiled contempt. His eyes blazed with the fires of a fury centuries old. The air around him crackled with barely controlled power, but there was nothing he could do to the visitors in his domain. Not these two.
"I see you've done nothing to improve the state of my former residence, ‘Lord Satan'mak,’" Nikimak sneered, surveying the throne room. His voice dripped with disdain, the emphasis on "Lord" mocking. "Although it does puzzle me why Ayin hasn't replaced you yet."
Lucifer’s nostrils flared. His fingers tightened on the armrests of his throne. “Dispense with your mockery, Fragment,” the devil hissed. “I presume you have more reason to be here than to criticize my... décor.”
"Indeed." Nikimak strode forward, tossing the sack onto the floor before Lucifer's throne. The writhing bag landed with a thud, muffled cries barely audible now. “The bounty, as promised. Though I did find her legs made for quite the stew.”
The sack tore open, revealing a maimed succubus, her body trembling in fear and pain. She glanced at Lucifer, eyes wide with terror as she tried to crawl away. But before she could escape, Lucifer’s eyes glowed with dark power, and her body turned to stone, frozen in a final, desperate pose.
Lucifer's expression remained cold as he turned his gaze back to Nikimak. "Consider the amenities of the Hall of Rewards yours for the evening, Nikimak. A fair payment for your...services."
“A pleasure doing business with you, as always, Lord Satan'mak,” Nikimak said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he turned to leave.
Mister Winter followed Nikimak, and the two left the infernal throne room. They soon entered a seedy pub, the atmosphere a sharp contrast to the oppressive dread of Lucifer's palace. Female demons, scantily dressed, danced on stages scattered around the room, casting alluring glances toward the two men as they entered. Their eyes gleamed with wicked intent as they sized up the Enforcer and the sage.
One of the demonesses, her skin a fiery red and her eyes gleaming with mischief, sauntered over. She swayed her hips as she approached, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Lord Nikimak,” she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s been too long since you visited us. Shall we find somewhere…more private?”
Nikimak gently but firmly removed her hands from his neck, his face expressionless. “Me and my partner are having your best Kalmk. No distractions.”
The demoness pouted but eventually relented, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. “You’re no fun,” she muttered, slinking away to fetch their order.
As she left, Mister Winter chuckled and leaned back in his seat, casting a glance around the pub. “You do know my favorites,” he said with a sly smile. Then, with a curious glint in his eye, he continued, “Speaking of favorites, shall I tell you about this human I recently made a deal with? Gave him the exact same power you’re known for.”
Nikimak raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “This should be interesting.”
From across the room, another demon dancer—this one with silver scales and glowing eyes—overheard their conversation. She slithered closer, her voice dripping with malice. “A human with your power, Lord Nikimak? Sounds like someone who would fit well in my cauldron.”
Mister Winter grinned darkly. “Well, how about this—I propose a little wager, something to make the night more exciting.” His grin widened as he leaned forward, eyes gleaming with manic energy. “Let’s see just how much chaos we can stir up with this human. If I win, you girls leave him to me. If you win, you can do as you like.”
The dancers exchanged predatory looks, their eyes flicking toward one another. They were clearly interested.
“Well then,” one of the demonesses said, her lips curling into a sharp smile, “we’re always up for a little fun.”
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YOU ARE READING
Xeney
ParanormalMark, an ordinary teen, stumbles into a realm humans were never meant to enter-a secret market in the heavens. In a careless trade, he sacrifices his gender, waking the next day to a body that's neither male nor female. What he gains, however, is fa...
