In Eden's Shadow

by Amanda Churi

  Once our presences separated from the gloom, both guards whipped their weapons out of their hair, leaning forward with daggers crossing one another. The flames on the gate intensified, growing larger and reaching higher until their scalding fingers began to wind down the rods and envelop the entire frame in a curtain of death, denying entrance.

  I snickered as I approached; the guards’ skin slightly cracked as their eyes merged with mine. “Why won’t you shis travel the lands in your natural forms?” I challenged boldly. “You waste more of your frail energy keeping a body that you do not belong in! And not only that, but armor? My, my, what is going on here?”

  The guards bared their black teeth, accusingly turning their eyes to Korbu, who halted a respectable distance from them. “Korbu, what the Heaven is he doing here?!”

  “He wishes to speak with Satan,” he replied simply, ice coating each word that he managed to spit out.

  “Are you insane?!” one of the shis snarled. “His existence is forbidden! Why has he not been eliminated?!”

  Korbu took a step to the side, motioning toward me with the aggravated thrust of an open palm. “You answer that.”

  The shis scrunched their necks up to their shoulders, clearly dissatisfied. “Korbu, we’ll be in big trouble…”

  “He’s going to get in one way or another. I can’t fight him, and neither can anyone else. Let him through so that Satan can finish him off, because let’s be honest…” Korbu’s eyes flashed as he looked back at me, and I smiled like a child, continuing to be unfazed by his empty threats. “Satan will jump on him the moment He sees him.”

  “Well, perhaps if you all left your humanoid forms and fought me as true beings of Hell, you would stand a chance,” I tempted.

  “You dumbass,” Korbu snarled. “We cannot resume our forms without risking the escape of more damned from our chests.”

  I waved him away. “Excuses, excuses. Maybe I could take over the army once I’m pardoned. I’ll show you what it’s like to be a true terror.”

  The growls forming in the hollowed chests of the guards grew louder. Korbu snapped his teeth to silence them. “Don’t answer. Now, as your leader, I demand you let us through.”

  The duo had trouble holding themselves together as they reluctantly uncrossed their blades, each moving to one side of the gate with their heads down. As one, the skin on their hands crumbled away, and they gripped their designated side, silent as they pried the furious gates apart that continued to spew fire, protesting the shis’ decision.

  “Thank you very much for your compliance,” I chortled, bowing as I passed through the parted gates. The guards did not speak; the skin of their lips merged to keep themselves from opening their mouths and disobeying their chief.

  Despite the shithole outside, the soppy ash within the city limits gave way to luxurious, fancy brickwork. It took a moment for me to realize that what I saw was actually there, and I could not be more surprised. Thousands of years since I had been home, and Nortora, despite the wreckage around it, had withstood the test of time and ice.

  Nortora, the headquarters of Hell, is not what you think. Despite its location, it is actually a beautiful place that any would be envious of, ranging from the most caring angels to the cruelest demons. Heaven was beautiful, and in turn, Satan wanted His empire to be glorious in His own way—a place filled with awful, enticing glory that reflected the status of God that Satan had tried to snatch so long ago.

  Fire-filled golden goblets lined the wide brick streets, belladonna flowers choking their bases with an eerie magenta hue. The structures off of the main roads were bold and beautiful, architects from every walk of afterlife pouring blood, sweat, and soul into the creation of each and every building. The frames were made from pearl, gold, and diamond, totems with the faces of demons lining each entrance with dancing, lively fire burning atop the uppermost head.

  A fountain of lava gave life to the center of the street, where the road diverged in multiple directions. Four gallows crafted of gold flanked each dominant side of the fountain, the chain nooses lazily swaying in the dry air that burned with each putrid breath. Silver plaques took over the brick at the base of the gallows—plates that had the names of those convicted before them and sentenced to nothingness.

  I lifted my neck slightly higher as we passed by one of the gallows, catching sight of my own plaque as I remembered the very place I had been put to rest at. Funny that I was back, wasn’t it?

  Another plaque managed to reel in my attention. It took me by surprise, and I could not help but stare back as I continued to be escorted, unsure if my vision was playing tricks with me or not after thousands of years in dormancy.

  Azuré…?

  Blinking, I placed my head front and center as the hazy air whisked away the victim of my stare. Friend or not, how she had come to her own ruin was of no concern to me.

  But what was concerning was the population—or lack thereof. Nortora used to always be full of death—lively death. The damned suffered left and right as our slaves, and most all demons lived a posh, comfortable afterlife. Now, however, I did not see one of either group on the streets. There was no sound to be heard besides the ominous howl of emptiness and the crackle of fire—wasn’t a lick of movement either.

  “Where is everyone?” I observed, Coruscus and me turning in opposite directions skeptically.

  “Probably at Satan’s dwelling, waiting for the trial of Maeve,” Korbu muttered. “Nothing much happens around here anymore—most of us just hang out in Nortora fending off attacks by the Proxez; they’ve become annoyingly persistent as of late.”

  “But I don’t get it. Why don’t you morons just get up there and kick the Proxez’s ass? Aren’t you supposed to be demons?”

  “Look!” he bellowed. “Don’t you go throwing around suggestions! We still follow His word, and you don’t know a damn thing that’s been going on! Just shut your gaping trap, would you?!”

  I shrugged, only listening because countering his petty arguments was getting a bit boring.

  I was silent the rest of the way as I was led through Nortora. Nothing had really changed besides the addition of a few new establishments here and there—it made me a bit happy to see that at least the heart of this world had withstood the chaos.

  But it was obviously not without consequence—the current state of the demons and the fields reinforced that theory all the more, as well as the light red haze surrounding the city that I picked up on the more I paid attention. The guards used to be enough to keep things under control, but now… It almost looked like a fiery force field surrounded Nortora as an extra precaution. Since the beginning of Hell’s formation, never had outside threats been an issue, not once. I guess the Proxez had changed that.

  At the edge of Nortora’s limit, Satan’s dwelling resided. I could see it well before we arrived; the buildings hugging the brick road gradually thinned out until we were walking through a meadow filled with toxic belladonna and prickly devil’s claw. The coliseum in the distance was crumbling—the only thing in Nortora suffering.

  Surprise was my only word. I had helped build the coliseum with my very hands, so to see it falling… I was baffled. How? It had to be the demons responsible for architecture, because I never screwed up when it came to making the best of the best.

  The marble pillars were allies with blood; the soil around the foundation steamed with the remnants of souls, and the cracks covering the building were stuffed with ground-down bone to provide support while camouflaging the damage.

  The entrance was wide open, the chitter-chatter of beings starting at a mere whisper before swelling into a horde of screaming, crying, and ranting. The blood in the air was marvelously intoxicating, and the shadows had weight to them as we passed through the archway and under the bleachers, heading toward the ring.

  “I’ve got the pest from here,” Korbu announced, halting at the lowered silver grate that granted passage to the battlefield. “You’ve all done great. Go find som
e seats; make sure you’re in the splash zone.”

  The demons chuckled heinously, bobbing their heads wildly as they quickly scuttled off into the dark corridors that ran under the arena to find seating above.

  Korbu turned to stare at me, his eyes penetrating mine in the dark as the lonely echoes of the smoke-like demons reverberated in the background. I had no regret staring back. This weak, miserable excuse of a shi… He wasn’t the demon that I had endured so many hard endeavors with and enjoyed many executions beside. He was old, soft, and practically useless in this altered dimension. And to treat me with such disrespect? Certainly no friend nor ally.

  He had a clear idea of the thoughts racing through my brain, and the flatness of his pupils showed that he no longer cared about our past either. Grabbing the grate in a tight clutch, he hurled the portcullis up, the clinks of rusted chains blaring in my sensitive ears as the shadows passed over my skin. I shifted my eyes to the open tunnel, snorting loudly as I pushed past Korbu, my fists beside me and Coruscus growling as I marched forward, ready to have the title of traitor stripped from my skin.

  A wave of firelight from the levitating chandelier momentarily blinded me. I squinted, eyes burning and ears ringing as the crowd erupted into a chaotic, hungry roar. Everything felt as though it was spinning the second I fell under the spotlight; my senses had been muffled by the overwhelming aroma of death and avalanche of chants, leaving even my sense of touch tingling.

  The bleachers were crammed to the brim, the cries for blood increasing in volume. Demons and damned intermingled within the crowd, little to distinguish each degraded soul from the other. In fact, many were talking to each other as they pointed at me, laughing and smacking the other on the shoulder as though they were the bestest of buddies. Demons and damned always had a close relationship since they often spent eternity together, but their closeness here was not in reluctance—they were willingly being friendly to the other.

  “Hey!”

  I was shoved in the back, Coruscus nearly rounding on my assailant and slicing their arms off as a means of punishment. I lifted my lips in a snarl as I looked back at Korbu, but he simply pushed me again. I willingly allowed him to lead me through the soot-heavy battlefield. “Keep moving! We don’t have all eternity.”

  Rolling my eyes, I shifted my view to my route ahead when I was stopped dead by the sight.

  Two diamond poles were drilled into the ground, beads of toxic, soul-dispersing water running down the surface; a set of chains and open cuffs were bolted to the base of one—the other set was occupied.

  The scars on her cheek were festering with plague, her lush brown hair knotted and matted with blood that came directly from her busted face. Her clothes had been ripped off her, leaving her bashed and bare with two flaring, furious, betrayed eyes pinning down my soul.

  I almost felt like laughing. She felt betrayed? How hilarious! That coward had caused all of this.

  Not gonna lie, though: the body was better than expected.

  “I said move!” Korbu repeated, forcing me to advance toward the prisoner.

  A growl seething in my throat, I obeyed, knowing that maintaining my composure was key. I kneeled at the base of the pole, staring at Maeve as a single damned came forward to secure me to the stake. The toxic droplets running down the surface of the beam drove Korbu away, the beads hissing as my wrists fell within inches of their presence. Well, this was certainly an effective element to keeping demons contained—about time they made some changes around here.

  Maeve did not speak to me—if she had, the only thing out of her mouth would have been curse words, but there was a glint in her eye—a plea for help. I wanted to bust a gut laughing; she was the one stupid enough to trust me in a time of need—being in Hell was no one’s fault but her own. Besides, it was far too late to ask for mercy now; this narcissistic bastard had never been more driven to preserve himself, and nothing that she showed me would change that.

  The cuffs snapped around my broad wrists. I looked back, lowering Coruscus as I stared at the damned who had been entrusted with restraining me. A well-muscled, tattooed young man held a jug of toxic water, a pair of broken shades partially shielding his brown- and black-flecked eyes. His short blonde hair was spiked, and his lips were pulled straight, emotionless as he looked me dead in the eye.

  “Well, I’ll be saved,” I said. “Never thought I’d see the day a damned would be given a position of power.”

  The damned lifted his chin and looked straight ahead. “And I never thought you would break your promise to me.”

  I didn’t know what he spoke in reference to, but I laughed. He obviously hadn’t known me that well if he sincerely thought I would keep my word, whatever that word was.

  Just enough space separated me from Maeve, allowing Korbu to advance. The shi lifted his arms out beside him, curling his fingers and inhaling deeply as he faced Satan’s empty throne perched a dozen feet above. Immortal fire burned around its base, the silver frame glittering vibrantly and shooting rays of light about the arena like lasers. The cheers of the crowd grew and grew as they waited for the king to take His seat on the tortured imp hide, the legendary pitchfork leaning on the armrest secreting a blood red mist as He secretly neared.

  “Lord Satan,” Korbu prayed. He closed his eyes and slammed his hands together, throwing his torso forward. “I come before thee, Korbu, head of the shi warriors, with two traitors in our midst! Your power… Advice… Authority is needed to bring these heathens to justice! I pray, Lord Satan, that in this dire situation, You shall come forth to greet Your loyal soldiers…”

  The pitchfork began to tremble, the blistering, visible heat about the staff growing stronger as Korbu continued to praise and glorify Him.

  I never looked away—I physically could not. When He came forth, I would know my fate. What I was about to see, it could very well be the last time that I ever laid eyes upon anything.

  … Naw, what am I saying? It wouldn’t come to that.

  “Please, I ask… Beg of You…” Korbu’s torso shot back up, his feet stomping apart and hands shooting behind his back as he threw his head up toward the dark sky. “IN SATAN’S NAME, I PRAY! NOMEN!”

  His white hair shot up with an expulsion of pressure, shoots of toxic purple steam exploding from every pore. Bit by bit, the cracks on Korbu’s body spread, and the blast of the poison gained power, first small, then large chunks of his bronzed skin flying clean off like shingles. No shouts nor screams left his mouth as the slabs of skin ripped from his bones before disintegrating, the push of air so powerful that I had to lower my head and dig my knees deeper into the soil to keep myself rooted. The flood of death became so dense that most all visibility was lost at one point, and when the rush of internal hell had ended, all that was left of him were bones, revealing a literal walking skeleton. His bones were not white; they were a degrading black and brown, and when one loose bone fell off, another immediately grew in its place, just as old and aged as all the rest. And his chest…

  The dark, malevolent poison that filled the air was sucked into his ribcage like a drain, several white essences of energy swirling within and forming a spinning vortex of purple fire. A low, almost silent moan emanated from his chest where the fire was held, and angrily, Korbu thrust his fist into his hollow stomach, breaking several ribs with one blow. Enchanted fire encircled his decrepit fist, his chest briefly igniting a blinding white before he slowly retracted his hand, a slick, amethyst katana with a meteorite hilt taken with it that echoed the cries of woe and desperation from those trapped within his body.

  I smirked darkly. That was the shi I knew.

  His purple eyes were on fire—the only unchanged part of him. Dropping his jaw as a ghostly, vengeful wail left his steaming mouth, Korbu screamed, thrusting his katana into the air and toward Satan’s elegant throne as the pitchfork crashed to the floor and the air alit with the darkest form of justice.

  Four

  Resting in Pieces

  �
�Hole. Lee. Crap…” Ryze pressed his white, mystical hands to his forehead, trying to rid his mind of what he had seen. In a heap of conflicted emotions, he slumped down onto an axon, resting his head in a bed of dendrites to keep his drained soul held up. “This can’t be happening…”

  Laelia turned her nose up, snorting smugly as she kept hold of a thick purple neuron that continuously flashed and pulsed with electricity, intercepting the information being relayed to the subconscious. “Well, I’ll be damned. The Underworld isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.”

  “Hell exists,” Ryze whimpered, curling his fingers and clawing his form from the forehead down. “I was wrong. We were wrong.”

  “You were wrong,” Laelia clarified, her green eyes shining an eerie gold as she shared her vision with that of Eero. “Calla and Kevin told you that it existed. You should have prepared yourself in advance.”

  “SHUT UP!” he squealed, his voice breaking as he buried his head into his knees. “JUST SHUT UP!”

  Laelia scoffed. “Pathetic idiot…”

  “Hey, knock it off, you two!” Aponi scolded. “You’re going to scare him!” Holding the remains of Eero’s soul, Aponi shushed the silent child, rocking him back and forth. What had been saved from the assault was brittle; several chunks of skin were all that held his soul together, multiple regions completely stripped of life and leaving gaping, pulsing black holes in their place that rippled and secreted chaos. Much of his soul had the appearance of cobwebs: random, frail strings of waning power and motivation that were so small and insignificant they could be blown away with a single puff.

  And his eyes, those lustrous, courageous blue eyes, they maintained their hue, but the pupils never moved; they were fixed, dead, and unresponsive.

  Aponi released a built up, shaky breath as she stared at her old friend. He was so broken and lost… He had literally sacrificed his very life to save Mabel, and now, he was nothing but a shell that merely existed and took up space.