“You deserve the truth.” Apollo gave one last glance toward the exit. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your room. Let’s talk.”
With a nod. I stepped around broken glass to oblige him. The door behind me clicked as Apollo closed it. He offered me his lantern. I took it, glad to have a shield against the darkness.
“Hell creates suffering by design; it’s meant to be torturous. Damned humans come here. They’re rounded up like chattel. Their bindings turn them into demons with enhanced strength and skills that help them serve their purpose.”
“I know,” I murmured. “And I know human souls are fragile compared to demons.”
“Right. And that’s the problem, that fragility. Hell wears away atyour soul in very real ways.” Apollo turned his crimson eyes towards the ground. His forced smile faded. “Us demons? Our bindings make us strong enough to withstand it. For humans, though… it isn’t pretty.”
The horror of Apollo’s confession sent a shiver down my spine. He passed me a sympathetic glance. Sitri’s ominous warning and Mara’s parting shot—they’d both thought my soul was on a timer.
“I’m human, but I have Vapula’s bindings. What happens to a bound human? Does anyone know?” I asked.
“No, we don’t. Mara’s the only one of us who even knew humans could be bound. She said they were hand-picked to serve in the afterlife. Theywantto become demons. They don’t stay human for long. Nurturing your soul with food and sleep will help keep you from fading if you are at risk. Injuries, physical and psychological… They tend to make it worse.”
I bit my lip. Sitri promised me a choice, told me I could stay human if I wanted to. That was yet another lie. He’d known my soul was unstable, and he said nothing. My muscles tightened, and my emotions swarmed.
Sitri was the Prince of Lust and Lies; deceit was in his name. I’d still let him in, dropped my guard, and trusted him. Now I’d pay the price.
We walked the rest of the way in silence. If I opened my mouth again, I risked spilling my guts, and this was not the time. I didn’t want to sort through this tangled mess of feelings that writhed inside me. In life, I’d stuffed them down to keep my composure from slipping. In death, my emotions had grown too numerous to repress.
“That stab wound, is it bad?” Apollo asked as we paused before my door.
“No, it’s fine. It isn’t deep.”
A lie—Mara had cut me to the bone, and enough blood stained my shirt to prove it. But it was short and thin, nothing I couldn’t manage. Vapula’s gift would guide me in caring for it on my own, without having to bare my chest to Apollo. Despite his good deeds and warmdisposition, we were still practically strangers, and I wasn’t about to invite him any closer.
Apollo’s stare flicked to the stain. He pursed his lips. “Let me help you. That’s a lot of blood, and a wound like that—”
“I’m okay. I’ll take care of myself,” I said before he pressed me further. “Thank you for telling me.”
“It’s the least I can do, really.”
With a polite nod, we parted ways. I returned to my isolated safety, and Apollo left, still carrying the weight Sitri had left on his shoulders.
