Double Or Nothing: A Coin Flip Away

A Worrying Breakthrough

It's important to understand that each Lord and Lady of Hell's absence and their visits, coming and going from Lucifer's manor, were not coincidental. The turmoil in Pride, which has been described so little to this point, is the primary problem that forbids those unable to travel from seeing one another. It's not just an issue of bringing enough artillery or armor to push your way through the large gates of your Sin: the greater threat is what's trying to get in the way you came from. One foolish decision to try leaving your Sin could result in hundreds of thousands of chaos-driven, panic-stricken Sinners and Demons forcing their way through the cracks and holes in your walls.

The Embodiments of Hell, Azazel, Satan, Morpheus and such, can freely travel wherever they please; the ownership of humanity's eternal nightmares grants one unfathomable nobility and responsibility. This is why, in times when Lucifer must speak to his children freely or in closed conversations, they are summoned regardless of their worrying situations. In their stead, Lucifer ensures that his control of Hell is absolute, refining the fortifications of all surrounding his home. In the present moment, Azazel, Morpheus and Asmodeus' homes have all become reinforced thanks to the Sin Hunter's presence in their homes.

The image of Hell's greatest fighter isolated is enough to shatter fear toxins and force the possessed screaming to the shadows. The Vizier knew this, hence their reservation to Gluttony and the isolation from Hell's neighboring Sins. Hoping to keep their citizens from leaving by providing special floral shows and distractions to occupy their citizens and prevent them from ever wanting to leave Gluttony, The Vizier had worked without rest and company for the long months the Sin Hunter and his allies had begun sweeping across Hell, cleaning away the blood clotted filth of this mysterious foe Hell had brought itself to face.

This mysterious attacker's presence concerned the trembling Vizier as they sat atop the ledge, wrinkled fingers woven through each other with parchments staining their fingers gray with powder. The Vizier's blinking gold eyes wavered on the horizon of the misty jungle, with the screeches of nocturnal avians calling into the twilight in search of a mate, prey, or simply their last calls to the world before a night of rest. A cold and unsettlingly stale wind had begun to blow from Gluttony's ancient temple walls, planting a swift and trembling caution in the Vizier's mind. Those shining golden pupils would need to learn more if they wished to sparkle with their life.

Retreating into the glowing, candlelit stonework of their ancient palace, the Vizier summoned shimmering gold fruits and vegetables from the folds of their deep orange robes, the colors of Aztec-amused serpents and other rich tapestries transitioned in color and texture, studded then curly, fluffy then scaly at the edges of the Vizier's sleeve cuffs. The food they summoned appeared gold and blossoming with life, sprouting unnatural blue eyes and shining gray wings from their soft or rough skin. These delicacies could not be consumed by their creator, however; if only those worthy could harness their power, then the Vizier was not considered for that title.

Sweeping into the temple interior, the labyrinth of stonework and luscious greenery had been completely reworked, courtesy of Lucifer and his housewarming gift of a remodel. Braziers erupted with bright columns of crisp marmalade flames, the tapestries of a world long forgotten displayed at every pillar, every stone tower and ancient deity forged from the mountain's bounty shimmering with refreshed gemstones and jewelry. Sliding their sleeves back between robes of animated purple dragons coiling at the frills of the deep gray silk, the Vizier coiled their hood back, revealing the subtle shaking of a rattle somewhere beneath the cloak.

"Hell has seen worse than this threat. I have confidence invested carefully in the faith of the Sin Hunter and his group of Angels Encarmine," the Vizier spoke without care or concern for anyone to see their features beneath the cloak. Turning their face to the blinking lights of the braziers, illuminating the towering statues of twelve ancient deities, only referred to as Legend among the locals, the Vizier removed their hands from the now sea green and gold silk sleeves. Raising their seals and parchment-embroidered hands to the air, the Vizier exhaled before speaking, their hair slowly curling down below their shoulders in wisps of ancient, desaturated reds and yellows.

"Legend, the One Who Is All, the twelve gods of knowledge and justice, deliver me your verdict," the Vizier whispered, swaying back and forth with deep curls of warm green smoke sliding through the folds of their flowing red cloak. The smoke curled at the feet of the towering deities as candles flickered to life, one by one guiding the ancient Vizier through their palace of history and rich agriculture. Smiling through their shining eyes of small, mouse-like curiosity, the Vizier followed the candles into the depths of the dusk-risen temple, speaking as if among friends. Although one can never be considered alone if they have their thoughts and the ever patient darkness to guide them.

Following the candles out to the platform in the center of the large, open floral observatory, miles beneath the mountains with the carved eyes of Legend where the richest of Gluttony's wells poured water into flowing streams through the beautifully illuminated jungle trees of the firefly-guided forest slice away in the mines of Gluttony, the Vizier paused at the edge of the platform. The splintered ruins of a throne and the broken shell of a case which once guarded a precious relic lay strewn across the stone platform. Somewhere below the platform in the glowing forest scene, a group of panthers released their yawns into the night with their final stretches, curling into rest beneath the canopy.

The Vizier smiled, turning their attention skyward to the moonlit eyes of Legend surrounding the upper half of the room. "You have assisted me in the past, as I have understood you and respected your boundaries. I ask you now, in what will be the most dire time, for guidance on what to lead my people toward. They are swayed by the beautiful flora of your bountiful jungle," the Vizier gestured to the beautiful underground forest scene, "but they will grow weary of such pleasure soon. I cannot hold them down and risk losing my kingdom. I need something or someone to answer me with open arms and an open mind." The statues did not speak to the room, but as the Vizier began to excuse themself, a rumbling voice shook their mind.

"You have indeed supported us above your shoulders, O' Wistful and Compassionate One. We, Legend, the storytellers of eternity, shall guide you in keeping your people safe. But this price shall be repaid in burdens you may be unprepared to bear." The Vizier turned, pulling their hood back over the curls of retracting autumn hair. Flashing with golden ovals of eyes in the darkness obscuring their face, the ovals curled with excited relief. "Thank you, Legend. Though unexpected I'll be for your trials, I would sooner put the lives of these innocent souls to good rest and peace of mind than place myself in a higher position."

As the Vizier turned and strode away, the candles of the stone walls extinguishing behind them, the beings called Legend whispered to one another, whispers of trust and devotion, debate and great consideration tossed to and fro in the process. Legend answers, but never in the form or the means those searching for its influence seek.