Shadows of Helvete

Chapter 19

Emilie stood alone in a quiet, dimly lit room. She recognized it—it was Pelle's bedroom from the house they all used to live in, where they'd spent hours listening to music, talking about life, death, and everything in between. The room was empty, except for Pelle, who sat cross-legged on the floor with his gaze fixed on the candle flickering between them.

"Pelle..." she whispered, taking a cautious step forward.

He looked up slowly, his eyes catching the glow of the flame. There was something almost haunting about his expression. Emilie's heart twisted, a pang of sadness and guilt she could never quite shake. "I didn't think you'd come," he murmured.

Emilie sank to her knees across from him. "I miss you so much Pelle. Every day."

His smile was faint but genuine, though it seemed as if he were looking through her, his attention already fading into the shadows around them. "You moved on," he said softly, his tone free of malice, only quiet understanding. "That's okay, my love. That's life."

Her eyes stung. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't that simple, that he was always with her no matter what happened with Euronymous or anyone else. But as she tried to form the words, the light flickered, and Euronymous's figure appeared at the edge of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his face unreadable.

"Pelle's right, you know," Euronymous said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. "You moved on. But I wonder if you're just looking to replace him."

"Don't do this, Euronymous," she whispered, but he only arched a brow, his gaze shifting between her and Pelle.

Pelle watched her with quiet acceptance, his voice barely audible. "You're caught between us, Emilie. You have been for a long time."

Her voice trembled. "I just want... I wanted..."

But what had she wanted? The words crumbled before she could speak them, the weight of their memory pressing down on her, leaving her feeling hollow.

Euronymous pushed off the wall, crossing the room toward her with a rare softness in his eyes as he knelt beside her. "You can't change what happened," he murmured. "But you have to decide..."

She looked at him, then back at Pelle, feeling the ache of all the things they'd lost—moments stolen by time and the darkness they'd embraced. Her chest felt heavy, her vision clouding as tears welled up.

As Pelle's figure began to fade, his voice drifted through the darkness. "Find peace, Emilie. For both of us."

Emilie's eyes flew open, and she bolted upright, her heart racing. The dream lingered like smoke in the air, and she could still feel Pelle's presence, a phantom ache that reminded her of everything they'd shared, everything that had been left unresolved.

She drew in a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair as she tried to shake the feeling. The room was dark, but familiar sounds filtered in from outside—footsteps on the street, the muffled hum of distant voices, and somewhere close by, the low drone of music. She leaned back, trying to steady herself as she pieced reality back together.

The following afternoon, the air at Helvete was thick with the usual mix of incense, smoke, and the sound of death metal that blared from the speakers. She glanced around, her gaze landing on Euronymous, who was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watching the door. He looked irritated, his jaw set in a firm line.

As she approached, he nodded at a group of girls gathered just outside, their eyes fixed on someone farther back in the shop.

"Take a guess who they're waiting for," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Emilie followed his gaze, and her eyes landed on Varg, who was holding court with a smirk that bordered on arrogant. The girls outside whispered, their excitement palpable as they glanced in every few seconds to see if he'd noticed" them.

Euronymous rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "How many girls can one man fuck? It's exhausting to watch. The girls keep lining up at my store, asking for their beloved Count Gririshnackh." That was a new name that Varg selected for himself.

Emilie smirked, though she could sense his frustration was more than just annoyance at Varg's antics. "He does love the attention."

"He's ruining everything," Euronymous grumbled, his eyes darkening. "Every time he does something reckless, it sets us back. He's got no control, no sense of what we built here."

Emilie hesitated, her mind flashing back to her dream. "What are you planning to do?"

Euronymous's gaze shifted to her, something calculating in his expression. "I'm going to try and contain him before he destroys everything." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, familiar pendant. Emilie recognized it immediately—the pendant Necrobutcher had been given the night Pelle took his own life, made from a fragment of Pelle's skull.

Her eyes widened as she looked at Euronymous. "You're giving that to him?"

He nodded slowly. "I want him to feel connected, to know there's something real at stake. If he respects that, maybe he'll start listening." He clenched the pendant in his fist. "It's the only way I can keep him close enough to control. My future and success are disapearing behind his fucking actions."

Emilie watched him closely, uncertain. "And if it doesn't work?"

A shadow passed over Euronymous's face. "Then we're in more trouble than we realize."

Later that day, Euronymous called Varg into his office, and Emilie watched as Varg strode in with a cocky smile, clearly oblivious to the storm that was brewing around him. Euronymous wasted no time, holding up the pendant between them.

"I hearby appoint you," he began, his tone even but authoritative. "A bassplayer of Mayhem."

Varg's expression shifted from smug amusement to genuine surprise, his gaze fixated on the pendant. He reached out for the necklace and put it around his neck with a genuine smile on his lips. "It's an honour."

"Congratulations," Emilie said to Varg, trying to sound as sincere as possible, even if the idea of him being around even more made her sick to her stomach.

Varg's eyes were gleaming with pride. "Oystein," Varg started, using Euronymous's real name, which was quite unusual for him. "We should burn one down together. And you, Emilie, you should join us."

Euronymous's face tightened, his voice firm. "You've already done it."

Varg shook his head, his eyes gleaming with a wild intensity. "Yes, but you said it yourself. We should burn them all down."

Emilie and Euronymous looked at each other, not sure what to do. Before Emilie could say anything, Euronymous agreed to do it.

"Okay, I agree, we should do this together. What do you think Em, are you in?c Euronymous asked his girlfriend. Emilie didn't know what to do. She didn't want this and she knew Euronymous didn't either, but it was all about proving himself.

"Yeah, Emilie, are you with us?" Varg asked Emilie in an almost mocking tone. He saw that she was scared and that she didn't want to do it, and it made him feel very powerful to have them both in this position.

"Fuck it, let's do it," Emilie finally agreed, hoping that everything will turn out fine.