The House of Cards

Pandaemonium

Pandaemonium

"What do you think they are going to do with us?" Gwin asks, leaning against the vorpal bars adjoining her cell and mine.

"Let us sit here to rot, most likely."

I do not know how long we have been in these cells, and the demons do not seemed inclined to let us out anytime soon. They had confiscated all of our stuff, including the backpacks with the food. I had determined that they were feeding us twice a day, and by that standard, we had been here for almost a week now. But time is funny in the Demon Keep.

"Satan said we would stand trial before the Infernal Council," Daniel says, chucking a piece of rock at the door of his cell. It bounces off and rolls back to his feet. He picks it up again and repeats. And again. And again. "Demons do things on their own time. Not ours. Especially not ours."

"Trial by combat," Jack pipes in. He lies on his stomach on his cot, his voice nearly muffled by the fabric. "They're going to give us a trial by combat."

I feel my stomach drop.

"What?" Gwin says, sitting up a little bit straighter.

"It's a fight to the death," Daniel explains, seemingly unfazed by this little tidbit of information. "If you win, you are proven innocent. If you lose, you die."

"Why, in the name of Fate, would they give us a trial by combat?"

"Because they're demons."

Gwin pauses, thinking. "That makes sense, actually."

Jack heaves a sigh and flops onto his back. He places his hand on his stomach and begins to hum a light tune, tapping his hands to the beat.

***

Jack needs to pick a different song.

"As soon as we get out of this cell, I am literally going to tear your tongue out," Gwin threatens, grinding her teeth together. "You are so fucking annoying."

I almost tell her not to curse, but then I decide that it does not matter.

***

It is blisteringly hot in this cell.

I paw at the bowl of mush the demons brought us.

Nothing looks appetizing anymore.

My head throbs.

***

Instead of food this morning, the demons bring us new sets of clothing, and the King of the Pit himself to deliver them.

"Wake up," Satan barks, pounding a heavy fist against the door of my cell. I yelp, and sit bolt upright. I had not been sleeping, had not slept in days. I spent most of the time dozing in and out, but never truly sleeping. "It's time for your trial, little Arcana. I cannot wait to see you bleed."

They shove the clothing through the slot in the hole that they usually reserve for food, repeating the process in each of our cells.

Gwin flops on her stomach, yawning. "What's going on?"

"You're waking up, Ace of Cups," the Demon King says. It is brighter in the hallway than in this cell, and I see his demonic smirk in perfect detail. "And then we are going to kill you. Once your souls are mine, I will be free to torture them for the rest of eternity. Oh, what good fun we are going to have!"

Jack pokes at the pile of tough leathers and flimsy fabric before him. "Can we at least get some privacy to change?"

"I think you are fine where you are," Satan responds. "Now, hurry up."