And the ghost, his ghost, smiled.
Behind her, the dragons lifted their heads and let loose a roar that shattered the silence.
It is said that each king of Hell was cast from divine service and condemned to eternal imprisonment for a single, damning sin. The ring they now inhabit is a reflection of that sin, a realm sculpted from their transgression, a mirror of their downfall.
Beelzebub was banished for gluttony, and now he is cursed to dwell forever in a domain overflowing with excess, tormenting souls who share his insatiable hunger. Asmodeus, undone by lust, now spends eternity ensnaring others in the same fire that once consumed him.
I can scarcely imagine a crueller fate, to be trapped within your own failing, forced to live it over and over, until it seeps into your skin, into your soul, until it becomes all that you are.
Tabitha Wysteria
‘Was that truly necessary?’ Thanatos asked, his typically impassive expression darkened now with unease as he surveyed the scene before him. Mal had attempted to question the King of Hell, but the gluttonous creature had merely laughed in her face until she had seized a fistful of food and rammed it down his gaping maw, choking him mid-guffaw.
‘He refused to speak,’ she replied, even as the floor beneath them began to tremble with foreboding.
Thanatos arched a brow, his lips twitching into a smirk. ‘You may wish to step away from the king now.’
Mal had been holding him pinned to his throne, her fingers white with the force of her grip. But at Thanatos’ warning, she released him. The king slumped forward, wheezing, his bloated form heaving as he clawed at his throat.
‘I don’t think the witch is here,’ Makaria observed, her voice tinged with curiosity rather than concern as she edged closer, her attention fixed on the grotesque sight of the Hell-king writhing.
‘Makaria, stay with me,’ Mal said sharply, retreating and grabbing the girl’s hand as the tremors intensified. She ushered her sister closer to Thanatos, her eyes drifting upwards, half-expecting the ceiling to collapse. ‘What’s happening?’
Thanatos exhaled slowly, his voice low and dry. ‘You appear to have offended a king of Hell.’
Mal rolled her eyes. ‘Well, he didn’t exactly strike me as a man of wit.’ She cast about the long elongated dining room, her attention landing on a set of heavy black doors. ‘That way?’
Thanatos’ gaze lingered briefly on the choking monarch before nodding once. Without wasting another breath, he shoved the doors wide and herded them through, just as the chamber groaned with the wrath of the underworld.
Mal was abruptly swallowed by shadow, her footing lost to the void beneath her. She stumbled forward blindly, only to have her chin collide with something soft and undeniably yielding. As the darkness lifted and her sight adjusted, surprise bloomed across her face as she realised what she had landed upon.
A breast.
Cursing under her breath, Mal quickly pulled back, annoyed by the situation. Behind her, Thanatos let out a low chuckle. She retaliated with a sharp elbow to his ribs, earning a grunt but no apology.
The room that emerged before them was a world apart from the gloom they had just fled. Bathed in hues of crimson and emerald, it pulsed with decadent life. Deep leather settees, draped in lounging souls, lined the chamber, some draped across one another in idle caress, others entwined in acts far more explicit.
At the heart of the room, a table stood surrounded by spirits locked in a game of cards, laughter and smoke curling from their lips. Above them, low-hanging chandeliers glowed with a golden warmth, illuminating the haze that curled lazily through the air. To the right, a marble pool steamed with sultry heat, its waters filled with writhing bodies lost in pleasure, the sounds of their release echoing softly through the room like a symphony of sin.
The men in the room wore only low-slung leather trousers, their oiled torsos gleaming under the soft, golden lights. The women moved like silken shadows, some entirely bare, others draped in translucent gowns that clung like whispers to their skin.
‘What is this place?’ Mal asked, her voice hushed.
‘Asmodeus,’ Thanatos replied grimly. ‘This ring is lust.’ He turned towards her, his hands tightening on her arms, his black eyes sharp. ‘Whatever you feel, whatever calls to you, do not yield, Melinoe. You must not surrender to it.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Before he could answer, a woman approached, so breathtakingly exquisite that it was almost painful to look upon her. Her midnight-black hair was woven with delicate blossoms, pinned high with precision, though loose tendrils fell artfully over her bare shoulders. Her lips were painted the colour of crushed roses, and her eyes glowed with the blood-red fire of temptation.
Mal instinctively stepped back when she noticed the woman bore not two, but six arms, three on each side, fanning out from her back like a macabre angel.
‘Does it frighten you?’ the woman asked, her voice like honey dripping into wine. ‘Six arms… to please six souls, all at once.’
Mal turned sharply, only to realise Makaria was gone. So too was Thanatos. Panic fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird as she found herself alone with the alluring creature.
‘Come,’ the woman coaxed, guiding Mal towards a lush, crimson leather settee. Despite her instincts, Mal obeyed, her limbs not entirely her own.
‘You miss him, don’t you?’ the woman asked against her ear, her breath warm, wicked.
