The sensation of being pulled into another realm in my body was akin to a feeling of being forcefully pushed into a hole way too small for my size. Thankfully, it only lasted for a moment, before the sight of the Bishop's house was replaced with smoke and fire.
The floor beneath my feet was gone. I was in free fall, and the ground was far, far away. I beat my wings to hover, took in a full chest of sulfuric air, and looked at the sight surrounded me.
The air was warm, but not scorching. Not far above me, I saw the stone ceiling—the floor of the higher layer of Hell. Below me spanned a smoke-shrouded plane. Here and there something burned in it, too far from me to tell what, or who. Wind howled, throwing handfuls of ash in my face. In a distance I saw flocks of monstrous birds circle, hunting for something on the ground, or for each other.
