A left turn led me into a huge cavern that looked to be the throne room, and I stumbled to a stop to catch my breath. It was a wide space, with a high ceiling, more giant stalactites, and a horde of mangled body parts tucked into every corner. Interesting patterns of stone stretched their way up the walls like pillars, but my eyes were drawn to the middle of the room. What I thought was a red carpet at first was actually a coagulated layer of blood gleaming on the stone floor in the torchlight.
So. Much. Blood.
“Jesus—” I said, but a rumble beneath my feet cut me off.
The stone was vibrating like it was suddenly alive, and I squeaked. A distant roar sounded behind me, coming from deep within the maze of hallways, and I took off across the throne room.
Past the giant spill of blood, which was tacky beneath my boots, sat a large, twisted throne. I assumed it was carved from wood, given that the rest of Asmodeus’ castle looked hand-chiseled, but as I got closer, the sickening truth of the royal chair had me gagging.
Bodies, all beautiful—or at least, they once had been—nude women, were curved and contorted to create the Lord of Lechery’s disturbing throne. Their lifeless faces were now hollowed and blood-stained like the rest of their flesh.
I wanted to scream, but the sound stuck in my throat.
Those poor women, all forced to serve that sick, demented bastard even after their souls were long gone.
I was even more glad I’d bitten off his dick. It was hardly retribution for all the horrors he’d caused, but it was a start.
Prying my eyes away, I darted deeper into the room. I could hear Asmodeus’ curses and snarls growing louder, the tremors in the stone growing stronger as he approached.
Just like in Belial’s castle, the walls, the floors, and even the furniture seemed to submit to their lord and master.
I searched for another exit, but there was none.
Ahead, drifting lazily by, was the familiar River Styx, just as it had in Belial’s throne room.
Slow, somber, unperturbed. Bits of carrion bobbed in the bright red water, which drifted in through a small, shallow opening in one wall and disappeared out the one opposite.
A wild idea sparked, but I wasn’t sure if it would work. The last time I was in the Styx, I hadn’t been whisked away magically or anything but…could it get me out of here?
I shifted on the spot, knowing my seconds were running out before Asmodeus came barreling into the throne room, but I was unsure. It was my only option right now, but if it didn’t work, if Asmodeus caught me and drowned me in the river of blood…
“I’ll make you pay, you fucking bitch!” I spun around to see Asmodeus stumbling into the room, his hand still clutching the bloody stump between his legs.
With the way he staggered with every step, maybe he wouldn’t be able to catch up to me.
Another quake shook the cavern, dust raining down from the ceiling. My hand launched out, grasping for something to steady myself. “Oh, fucking nasty,” I cried out when my fingers plunged into the rotting chest cavity of a one-armed torso speared onto one of the spikes.
I yanked my hand back and screamed when the torso’s arm snatched for me, its bony fingers—with bits of flesh still clinging to the joints—capturing my wrist.
My pulse lurched as the human remains strewn around the giant cavern started to twitch and shift to life. Skeletons rattledto their feet, severed lumps slithered across the floor, leaving slimy trails of gore in their wake. The bodies impaled onto the stalagmite spikes shivered and gurgled, reaching for me with whatever rotten appendages remained.
An invisible hand raked down my back, ice branching down my spine and freezing my system over. This was like when I’d fallen down the oubliette with all those hands reaching for me, touching me.Hurtingme.
Only, Belial wasn’t here to pull me to safety.
With a scream, I slammed my free hand down on the joint of the skeletal arm holding me, karate-chop style. The dusty joint broke, and I shook myself free, the bone clattering to the ground.
“Don’t let her get away!” the demon lord snarled at the carrion as he limped toward me.
I hopped over a hand dragging itself in my direction, trying not to look too hard at the tattered flesh from where the arm had been severed at the elbow. Another hand pulled at my dress, and a skeleton pierced to a wall with a rusted spear snatched at my hair.
Tamping down on my fraying nerves, I plucked myself free and whirled around, making a break for the Styx.
“Oh my…” My whisper came out hoarse, terror and pure shock winding tight as I took in the most gruesome, horrifying sight I’d ever laid eyes on.
Standing in my direct path to the Styx was the Lord of Lechery’s throne of rotten flesh.
It had come to life.
