Becoming Fae
Welcome to Hell

We didn’t have a large force with us going to the Demon Lands. We needed all of the fighters we could get to stay near the tunnels to keep Envy busy. Ben, Rollie, and Harmon were in command there and Ben and the other foxes had plans to use illusions to make Envy think I was there, just in case she and Wrath had a way of communicating.

Harmon had produced a kind of spell, potion thing that would help hide my demon beacon for a time, which had Netiri all kinds of amazed and curious before she left with the more vulnerable citizens of our little tunnel-city for my parents' place. I'm sure she and Harmon were in deep discussion about it for hours after we left for the second front of the war.

Despite the name of the place, the Demon Lands weren’t very... demonic. I mean, it was rocky, and the landscape was drastically uneven and the contrast between the cooler nights and the warmer morning left a creepy fog hanging around when we arrived, but it was actually very normal looking.

We met with Gluttony and Greed, who were giving each other the evil eye, and Immail took over command of the forces we had managed to gather. It was comical, seeing the curious and slightly fearful looks on the Sin’s faces when they saw him.

The next morning, Naz, Mal and I left Immail and Blaine and continued on to the Hell Pits.

Now those were exactly what I had thought they would be like. The started out looking like lava fields with little tide pool type magma pools that bubbled with heat. Naz led us into a tunnel, and it took us a whole day of walking to reach the actual Hell Pits.

This place was a dark beauty. Rivers of lava flowed and fell over cliffs and that alone was beautiful to see, but then you noticed the literal metropolis. Buildings rose from the black, hardened lava bed below and walkways and bridges were strung between them like an intricate, yet chaotic spiderweb.

“The lava bed might be cooled enough to be solid, but it’s still very hot. Not all demons are made to withstand the intensity, so there are no streets on the ground,” Naz explained after seeing my open mouth and wide eyes. “The buildings are a mix of business, residential, and entertainment and there’s really no organization to what is where. Perhaps, once this is over with, I can show you around, but we aren’t going near the city.”

“Where are we going?” Mal asked, wiping at the sweat on his forehead.

“There,” Naz pointed to a cliff high above the city where a massive castle stood in the middle of a literal lava lake.

“I’m going to have a heat stroke just looking at it,” Mal stated.

“You’re not going in there,” Naz scoffed. “Your wings will melt before you get close to it.”

“So, what is he going to do?” I asked and Naz grinned, showing off his pointed teeth.

“I know a witch that made a care package,” he stated. “We’ll pick it up and then Mal gets to be the first part of the diversion so we can get into the palace, hopefully, without being seen.”

“That’s a stupid plan,” I made a face and pointed to demons flying around the palace like bees around a hive. “He can’t out fly them.”

“Thus, the witch’s care package,” Naz nodded, hopping around on the rocks and boulder, scattering bits of rubble and sharp bits of volcanic glass, before he started tossing them aside to pick up a small box and hopped back down. “There’re all kinds of things in here. Most of it are like smoke bombs. If the demons fly through them, it hinders their ability to fly for a time. Some are flashy things that make it hard for them to focus for a bit, since it’s usually pretty dark here.”

“So, I’m throwing firecrackers at a hornet's nest and hoping I can get the heck out of the way when they come looking to sting me,” Mal took the box and looked inside. “Sounds like a great plan.”

“This is a terrible plan,” I looked at them.

“I would have had more people here to be a part of this, but we had to change the time frame so much, this is as good as it gets, Fae,” Naz looked at me flatly.

“Noted,” I smirked at him. “So Mal plays ‘Dennis the Menace’ and we turn into ‘Ocean’s Eleven’.”

“I have no idea what any of that means,” Naz said.

Mal chuckled as he held the box and lifted his wings.

“I’ll wait for ten minutes before I start,” he said.

“I love you, Mal,” I said, and he smiled before he flew away.

“Getting across the lake unseen is impossible,” Naz said.

“I’ve gotten decent with shadows, but I’m not sure that’s going to work,” I looked at the lava and knew it was glowing, although I couldn’t see it.

“We’re using my finger to get in,” he said, and I was completely confused. “The ring, Fae. The one made from my finger bone. I sent it to a spy I have inside the palace. It’s going to be very unpleasant for you, but we’ll get inside.”

“On a scale of butt-traveling to elf portal, how bad is it?” I asked.

“Butt-traveling?” he laughed.

“Hounds, apparently, travel through the nether region,” I shrugged.

“That’s not... You know what, I’m not going near that. I’d say it’s somewhere in the middle,” he shook his head. “The travel itself is more like the hounds, but the aftereffects are closer to the portals the elves use.”

“Prepare for upheaval. Got it,” I gave him a sarcastically cheerful thumbs-up. “Can we not replace a mode of instant travel that doesn’t leave me regretting my choice in breakfast?”

“Imps would be ideal, but the palace is warded against them coming in, unless the one that sits on the Throne permits it,” he answered. “With it vacant, the default is ‘no’.”

“Gods, that thing is annoying,” I huffed and kicked at the ground a few times. “Sooooo.... When are we going to get over there?”

“We aren’t. We’re waiting here for the signal from my ring,” he answered.

“And if the spy got caught or whatever?” I asked.

“We’re screwed,” he replied. “We’ll die down here, so I suggest going down with a bang.”

“I love the smell of martyrdom in the air,” I rolled my eyes.

“I never said it was a good plan, just that it was a plan,” he shrugged.

“Remind me to discuss the merits of choosing the right distinction if we survive this,” I looked at him.

-----

“Will you shut up?” I snapped at Naz and he glared at me through his pain, but clenched his jaw as I crouched over him in the tiny little closet in a hall inside the palace. “This went to literal Hell so freaking fast. What even was that thing?”

“Grenloch,” he hissed through his teeth. “Acid spitters.”

“Oh. Acid. Wonderful,” I whispered and pulled the bottom of his shirt up to see the horrible wound that had turned my ancient uncle into a whimpering pansy. Considering that the flesh was bubbling and fizzing, I can give him some slack on the whimpering part. “If I try to heal this, anything with a drop of demon blood in its system will know exactly where I am. Is there anything that can help right now aside from that?”

He shook his head and tried to pull his shirt back down as feet ran past us.

“Looks like the blood spell is working,” I sighed. “Harmon might be a Celestial, but he has a dark streak like any demon I’ve met so far. Who would have thought that he knew a blood witch?”

“It’s wearing off,” Naz gritted as his body shook from shock. “I’m not going to be able to keep up with you. You have to go without me.”

“Well, this just got infinitely better,” I grumbled as I looked around the little room. “Looks like this is a supply closet for the maids. Fortunate.”

I grabbed a stack of rags and stuffed on in his mouth before using a small blade that I created to pop the boils and release the acid that was inside of them. He grunted and groaned in agony as I worked, trying to lessen or slow the progress of the damage the acid was creating before I smacked another cloth over the wound and put his hand over it.

“Where do I go from here?” I asked him.

“Right, straight past three, left, down four sets of stairs and two lefts. The doors are gold and obsidian. You won’t be able to mistake them,” he panted. “Once you reach the stairs, it should be dim enough for you to use illusions and shadows, but the Throne room is far too bright for them to be effective.”

“Anything else?” I opened his leather vest and grabbed the flask of water from the inside pocket.

“Wrath has been pacing in there for some time,” he paused as we listened when the palace shook with the siege Immail was leading. “I don’t know if he’s still in there, but you can bet he’ll have the place under heavy protection.”

“I suspected that. Try not to get yourself killed, Uncle ’Loth. I’ll try to replace you if I don’t die,” I gave his hand a squeeze and made a pair of daggers before I peeked out of the closet.

Getting into the palace was easy, but shortly after, we ran into a few problems. One was that we didn’t have the accurate information regarding the types of demons that were in here. Grenloch, for example. Nasty things that looked like a centipede got lucky with a goat-man. We also weren’t up to date on the numbers, either. We knew that there was a sizable army to entertain, but we didn’t know that we would run into some kind of guard or mercenary or whatever around almost every corner.

Unlike my parents' palace where the throne room was on the ground floor, the Infernal Throne was under the Infernal Palace. Demons liked being underground, apparently.

I don’t know what or why, but as soon as we got in here, I felt different. Stronger and more ruthless. Naz and I had to take out a few of the demons that we came across and normally, I would have had a problem with taking a life, but all I really felt was a dark kind of thrill. Satisfaction, maybe. Whatever it was, I decided not to dwell on it right now when distractions like that were bound to lead to something nasty happening to me.

Even now, as I darted around a corner and ran into a small group of demons that I had to handle quickly, something deep inside of me felt like it was finally waking up. Something big and dangerous and powerful. It thrummed through my metaphysical being like a drumbeat. The closer I got to the Throne, the stronger I felt it. It was urging me on with an almost relentless, irresistible push/pull sensation that I had a hard time fighting off long enough to remember I had to be cautious, since I was now heading into this alone and with no backup to speak of.

Once I was down the last of the stairs, I covered myself with shadows and created Shadow Fae, sending her to pull as many guards away on a goose chase as possible to make it easier to get in there without dying.

My instincts were like a live wire now. I sent daggers flying to the remaining guards and cut through a few more before throwing open the heavy, ornate doors.

“Unholy Hell,” I muttered, replaceing the place damn near packed with demons.

Many of them held weapons, some didn’t need any, since they had claws, fangs, and I think I saw one that looked like a porcupine. There had to be a couple hundred and they were all glaring at me, poised for battle. I might be riding on the mysterious high this place was giving me, but I knew I had limits, and this was not within that range.

After a quick look around to judge just how badly I was screwed, my eyes snapped to what I could only describe as the Infernal Throne, sitting at the top of a set of five steps that were covered with something that looked disturbingly like a demon skin rug. I was not going inspect that any further and decided that redecorating was in the immediate future as soon as I got the thrash taken out.

Immail had made the Throne and I could see that connection by the aura coming off of it. It was similar to Immail’s and looked kind of like the darker moments of the markings on my body. Deep, blood red that swirled and mixed with a black so complete, it seemed to suck the light out of its surroundings, but it also had a burning, fiery red that I knew was anger in the mix.

The Throne was pissed, alright.

A couple of steps below the lonely Throne, stood this... thing. The aura was the reds and blacks of rage and fury, but also tinged with something shiny not entirely unlike gold, showing of the feeling of justification or righteousness.

“You must be Wrath,” I shifted into a better defense and created swords in both hands that felt perfect in my hold.

Shadows weren’t flawless about details, but I wasn’t expecting this particular Sin to look like typical college playboy athlete. He even had the cocky swagger thing going for him, even without moving a muscle. But, like all of the serial college rapists in history, he had this underlying creep vibe that set my nerves on edge. He was very much a predator, and I wasn't sure if that made me prey or a contender.

“Bring her to me. Alive,” he said and the demons in the room all surged for me at once.

‘Screwed’ doesn’t even begin to cover how outnumbered I was.