HADAGERY, Book of Elysium

Chapter 5

A dreadful rumbling resounded from every lesion upon the land, pressured by the furious vibrations beneath their feet. Hadge could scarcely fathom the wrath that soon waited them, aware of only one thing, "Hell hath no fury like the Devil scorned."

The backlash of Hell fumed far and wide, seething a blinding black vapor. As the onslaught of vapors seeped from every crack in the land, choking the air with the smell of death. Then the rumble transposed into a roar, a volcanic roar from the depths below the ground, as every hole abruptly burst with black flames. The sinister flames charred everything in its wake, the dead pines, the woodbines, and destroyed the remainder of the reaver factory. The destructive flames arched vehemently higher, merging at the highest point in the sky, shifting and changing like a maddening storm.

Everyone was affixed to the surging black mass, unsure of what wickedness truly lingered before their stricken eyes. Then at last they witnessed its shocking transformation into the shape of a demonic face, the face of the Devil.

The face of evil dwarfed all else, its unbreakable gaze leering sinfully in their path, as if it were seeking them out. The face stopped only for a moment, a moment to laugh, a sound that chillingly raised every hair upon their bodies, alarmed to this creatures intent. It lunged suggestively towards them, close enough they could hear the hiss of its malevolent flames licking the silence of this world, and the crackle of its deadly jaws, which spread wide enough to swallow them whole. That sweltering dark opening was a gateway straight to Hell, as a rush of screams pierced into this world of the living, marking the world of the damned. Soon a collection of foreboding howls quelled the screams, and the murky darkness within the jaws insanely rippled, hiding its threatening secrets amid the insidious black. No time to think, no time to move, as masses of dark creatures poured from the Devils lips, tainting this soil with their evil presence, the Devil had released the hellhounds.

Hundreds of deadly hellhounds fell short of the shore, landing in the marsh of human waste, still others deftly bounded over the ones whom fell first, similar to stepping-stones across the great divide. Every hellhound was hell bent and unstoppably fast. Their unusual front hands stretched wide, firmly planting a grip on the surface beneath them, accelerating to speeds beyond any human understanding.

Hadge and the others stood in shock; positive the outcome this time didn't look so good, because death was on its way. Second by second in the unfair medium of time, the hellhounds continued to move closer, hacking at the slow wit of its indubitable prey. Hadge had only clear thought, which played over and over in his head, informing him, "We're dead." There seemed to be no hope. The monstrous horde quickly advanced, with murder in their blood shot eyes. Until a few kindling words purged Hadges lingering despondency, and his inner voice gave him some words of advice, "Hope without trying is no hope at all."

A tiny voice yipped, "Run!" Ruby had spoke in his ear, trying to stir him into action. Hadge at once was awake, and aware of the dangerous position they now stood, as he roughly bellowed athwart the immense echoing lands, loud enough for every living thing to take notice, "RUUUNNNN!" He guided everyone within arms length with his prodding hands, certain safety would be hard to obtain at this time, snapping, "MOVE!" The anxious tenor quaked in his voice, "MOVE!"

Hadge knew they would have to protect themselves, they couldn't possibly outrun these animals, they would have to find a weapon, and anything would do. He searched the harsh lands as he ran; black snow had covered most everything, except the stalks of deadened plants. He started to believe it was hopeless once more, as the strain of his backpack irritably pulled on his shoulders, and he crossly jerked it forward, seriously thinking, "Just drop it!" Oddly he felt a corner of the book gouge him in the back, an unbearably heavy object, like carrying a rock. Gravely he could see the unsightly forms of hellhounds in his peripheral vision, realizing it was much too late for weapons. Then the hot soured breath of the hellhounds curled his nose, expecting the end to come any second now, feeling painful nips at his arms, with the warmth of his blood meeting the frozen ground. Eerily something slithered through the foliage, snaking under his feet, and he had to wonder, "What else had the Devil released?"