Morning Star

Introduction

The world is changing.

Everybody knows that by now.

Famine. Death. Wars. They're all over the globe and the news, causing more panics. More hatred. More fear. I remember the Devil laughing about all these once, its booming voice reverberating all over the Underworld. The loudness was almost enough to mask the suffering moans of millions of souls burning deeper within the earth.

I've always hated that sound. I hate the way their cries for mercy seem to wrap around my throat, pulling me in to suffer with them. I hate how they beg. How they scream for some ray of light that might come save them. It's pathetic.

There's no more saving here in Hell.

I walked the pavements to the Devil's throne because it seems like It has another job for me. Well, it's not really a throne, though. More like a slab of rock the boss always fancy of sitting upon. The Underworld isn't really as everyone on earth has imagined. It's not as "fiery" as artists like to draw. There's no flames around or lakes filled with lava instead of clear water.

It's more like darkness. Unending darkness and fog that covers your every path. A forest. A ghost town. A riverbank. Like fragments of the mortal world puzzled together awkwardly just so creatures like us will have a place we can thrive in. Once in a while, you crossroads with lost souls who always seem burdened by Hell itself. They look helpless. Tired. But most of the time, angry. Sometimes you bump into someone like me, a Fallen— Those who the Heavens thought are too imperfect to be playing in the clouds. Too imperfect to be worthy of staying in paradise.

I scoffed and threw my cigarette to the ground, stomping on it just as the Devil's cave came into view. It's by the foot of the mountain where dead trees seem to die even more. There's black mud everywhere, like the dead soil enveloping this place. Torches line a crooked path and I followed them, feeling more at ease as the orange light gives me more view.

The cave is almost bare if not for shadows you know are just looming around, trying to reach for you. I could feel lost souls, too, those who walked the earth and cried for revenge. There's also those who traded their souls to the Devil and seek for its help. They make me laugh. Imbeciles. The Devil doesn't trade. It takes everything It can.

Soon, all the brightness went gone. And I knew I already reached the end of the path.

"You like walking with the mortals," the Devil greeted me just as I stepped into a large clearing, its throne the only thing worth looking at. There are mourning figures by the sides but they are hidden in the shadows. Their presence seems to entertain the boss.