Hunting Log #376:
I know not the consequences of breaking a blood oath, but the fox appears bound to its word.
Where once I thought Hellwas empty, I quickly learn that it is teeming with life.
Or perhaps, more accurately, the antithesis of it.
They’re everywhere—ghosts—thousands of lifeless black eyes blinking at us through the gloom. Nearly liquid and formless, they shift and flow like the ocean tide over sand, ebbing away when we draw too near, shaped by nothing more than shadow. I wonder how long they’ve been trapped down here, forgotten in the dark.
I stay close to Sonam. Not because I care, but because there’s no telling what would-be demon may try to snatch up his soul. It’s mine to devour, mine to stake claim. If what Lin said is true, they might have sunk their teeth into the captain’s compatriots already.
I am curious to know how she came to exist down here. I wasn’t lying to Sonam when I spoke of being born from human suffering. But there are no humans down here. Not whole ones, at least. I suppose that if a soul’s suffering were significant enough tofollow them to the afterlife, it might explain Lin’s existence. How else am I to explain vengeful ghosts and poltergeists? Some souls are simply too stubborn to let go, even in death. The pain they carry runs so deep that it may well follow them into the next life, all the while creating monsters in its wake.
Lin takes us away from the city, venturing out into the abyss that seems to stretch for miles like an endless sea caught in eternal night. I never thought that such a stark nothingness could be so overwhelming. It isn’t difficult to imagine losing one’s mind in this expanse, forced to wander forever without any hint of where you’re going, or any sign from where you’d once come. I’d honestly prefer being eaten by the Sleeping City.
“This is a trap, Fox.” Sonam’s voice grumbles from somewhere behind me. “I can feel it.”
For once, I don’t argue. I feel it, too. And as much as I hate the thought of Sonam being right, I care for my self-preservation more. Lin skips on ahead, muttering under her breath, talking nonsense. She could have been weaving tales before. Yet her description of Sonam’s guards, Wen and Sooah, was too accurate to pass off as a coincidence.
“Are you listening to me, Fox?”
“What did you say, Lunch?”
“I said—”
“Ajest, human. It was a jest.”
“Are you incapable of taking anything seriously?”
“I can, but what a joyous occasion it would be to see that vein in your neck burst.” I run my tongue over my teeth and grin. I’m delighted when his nostrils flare in annoyance.
“This way!” Lin exclaims, pointing a finger at something in the distance. A faint light. Barely perceptible if not for my above-average sight. “Our camp is over there.”
The little hairs on my arms stand on end. “Our?”
Less than a li away stands a small cluster of soft orange orbs. Lanterns, somehow floating in the air of their own accord, arranged in a wide circle around the perimeter of their so-called “camp.” A simple spell, easily cast. There are bedrolls of dried straw, but no tents. I suppose there’s little need for it, given the fact that there’s no discernible trace of weather here in Hell. There isn’t much of anything, now that I think about it, apart from the Jade Palace and the monstrous city who guards it.
I notice two things at once. A group of roughly ten other demons, the largest congregation of my kind I’ve seen in a very long time; and the two humans they have bound and gagged at the center of camp, both tied to a thick wooden post.
Wen and Sooah are a dichotomy. While Wen struggles against his bound wrists and screams over the filthy cloth unceremoniously stuffed into his mouth, Sooah sits there calmly, albeit begrudgingly, observing with keen eyes and steady focus.
I have no memory of dragging them down with me. Could it be that they fell in?
A part of me is curious to know how these two buffoons wound up in Sonam’s service. Then again, I don’t much care. The only thing I want to know is the whereabouts of the Maskmaker. Lin is the closest to a clue I’ve managed to find in nearly three decades, and I’m not about to let this lead pass me by.
The little girl rushes forward, giggling as she skips toward a boar demon. I’ve never seen one this close before. He’s huge and rotund, his horns overgrown and curling, tusks sticking out of his mouth in ugly yellow spikes. His wild green eyes are red rimmed and caked in a crusty mud, both sitting askew within deep sockets. He stands on his hind legs like a human, hooves digging into the earth while he grips a lofty spear with pudgy human-like hands.He’s a sickly old thing, but still strong and vivacious enough to become a problem should things take an aggressive turn. They all are, now that I’ve had a chance to look at them.
The captain was right. This is definitely a trap.
Yet another reason for me to hate him.
We haven’t even exchanged words with the demons yet and I’m already running through the possible scenarios. Everyone is an enemy until proven otherwise, and even then, I’m not foolish enough to give them the benefit of the doubt. If things go sideways, where will I run? How will I manage to drag Sonam with me? The other humans are of little consequence, but they may prove a beneficial distraction if it comes to it.
“I made a new friend,” Lin says to the hulking boar demon.
“I told you no wander off,” he replies, voice so deep and rumbling that I swear I can feel the ground shake beneath my feet.
“They tried going to the Jade Palace. I watched the whole thing. I was hoping they would get crushed, but they didn’t.”
