Double Or Nothing: A Coin Flip Away

Guidance to Trust

Dust and snow billowed out of sight as Shrap's wings struck the stone brick floor of the mountain's observation deck. Upon descending onto the temple exterior, the Sinner tilted the brim of his hat to shield his eyes from the blinding gold sun. Cradling Cynthia in his lower arms, Shrap's nonexistent ears twitched, ringing with the sound of shuffling footsteps approaching fast. Pulling at his collar for fresh air, Shrap turned to face the bundle of ancient seals, parchments and deep green robes.

Orange flames licked at the edges of the trimmed robes while two shimmering gold pupils flashed from the void beneath The Vizier's hood. "Welcome, welcome, Shrap Coronell. I hope the journey here was not too difficult." Shrap chuckled, fixing his tie while dragging his palm across his mask to remove excess sweat. "Just a bit hot out, guy. Which, by the by," Shrap commented, gesturing his sharp black hand toward The Vizier, "you are taking this heat very well with all those bulky robes."

The Vizier smiled, its eyes curling into joyous crescents. "I make do with what I have. Come inside where it's not so unbearably humid, I beg of you." Carrying the sleeping Cynthia alongside The Vizier, Shrap removed his top hat and reached a hand back to his mask. "Hope you'll 'scuse me for a moment, Vizier. I gotta take my mask off or I'm gonna suffocate." The Vizier reached their sleeves forward in response, asking Shrap, "Hand me the girl, I'll take a load off your shoulders." Shrap gently rested Cynthia in the advisor's arms, reaching for his mask straps.

The Vizier rested the exhausted mother on a stone bench beside one of the unlit braziers on the rampart. The cool stone in the mountain air felt blissful against The Vizier's wrinkled, worn hands. "So why, may I ask, do you wear that intriguing mask everywhere, Shrap?" The tall, thin Sinner laughed aloud, his fingers undoing the straps behind his sleek black head. "Oh, I'd show you, but I'm worried you'd not be seeing much afterward." Shrap opened his mask to the air, shaking his blank features back and forth with delight when The Vizier's voice rose. "Is it a curse?"

Shrap paused, keeping his blazing green eye on the horizon. Resting his hands on the ledge beneath him, the Sinner heaved a long, slow sigh. "Something like that. My face turns people to stone when I look at them. Hence the mask." The Vizier smiled and approached, using their hood to shield Cynthia from the approach in case Shrap turned around. "I've never heard of anything like it. However, Sinners do bring various items from the Living Realm with them into this...purgatory of sorts."

Shrap exhaled, snapping the straps of his mask over his face. Turning to face The Vizier, Shrap stretched his arms out from the bench Cynthia rested on to the brazier on the other end of the wall. "Ah! Now that's a good stretch right there." Planting his hands on his sides, Shrap lowered his mask to grin at the robed Ruler of Hell. "Welp," he sighed, "let's go figure out what this rift business is all about." The Vizier nodded, gesturing to a paved dirt road carving through the mountain trail at the temple down through the jungle.

"Follow that road to the East. You'll find the village you seek this rift for." Shrap tipped his hat upward, cracking his lower knuckles. "How can you be so sure about that?" The Vizier's glowing gold eyes sharpened, twitching on the horizon as the sun began to set between the mountain ridges and the trees. "Lucifer's thoughts are my own with matters relating to Hell. What he orders, I listen and assist on." Shrap crossed his arms, his mask tilting with shadows pooling from the setting sun.

"Uh huh. Just thought I'd ask, since, y'know, Beelzebub's been gone for a while and nobody knows how Mammon took power." Shrap scooped Cynthia up in his arms, planting a shoe on the ledge. Unfolding his large leathery wings, Shrap craned his neck toward The Vizier, his sorrowful side reflected in the fading sunlight. "Just some food for thought, y'know?" The Vizier sighed, extending an arm toward the Sinner. "Shrap, wait a moment." With his back arched and his wings poised to leap, Shrap froze, turning around.

The Vizier's ancient hands extended toward their hood, removing the cloth as curls of wispy amber curls tumbled out around pale jade skin. A pair of blazing topaz eyes gazed up toward Shrap's mask with a shimmer in their lenses. "You tell no one about this, do you understand?" Shrap was surprised by what he saw, but he held his breath, nodding. "I, uh...yeah, you've got my word. Lips, well, what lips I have, are sealed," Shrap joked, running his pinched fingers across his mask. The Vizier smiled, pulling their hood over their curling amber hair. Two golden eyes were all that remained of the face beneath.

"What I've done cements where I stand on our partnership, Sinner. I know how badly your teammates wish to see Beelzebub again, and I take the blame for leading you all to false hope, but I am not the serpentine ruler of Greed you perceive me to be." Shrap lowered his mask, tapping his fingers on the ledge before turning his mask to face The Vizier again. "I get how you feel. Well, sorta. Thanks for the help, I appreciate it!" As the sound of large, leathery wings tore through the air, The Vizier turned away from the ledge, cradling something obscured by their sleeve.

In the wrinkled palm of The Vizier, a powder blue gemstone shook and shuddered in the breeze from the snow-frosted mountain peaks above. The Vizier turned back toward the outline of Shrap on the horizon, tracking that road back toward the village in the labyrinth of trees. "Oh, who am I kidding? They'll figure it out someday. Just when is something I don't know yet."