*********************
Abraham 'Runt' Ulren
My legs vibrate rapidly, tapping the coarse, obsidian-esque rock beneath me. The energy in my body has faded, but the anxiety still reigns. Soon, I'll fight again. Again... It's been...
I've slept twice. That means... between a week and three months. That's a long time to be stuck here. Damn... I'm not sure, but the shadows on the edge of the room are taunting me, like little faces smiling at my misery. I turn my head, trying to ignore them, but the bars of my cell contort with their metallic inlines, mocking me even more. Ahhh!
"Shut up! Stop smiling!"
Fucking Devil. I should never have taken this deal. Now I'm talking to myself. How stupid am I? Sure, I'm perhaps stronger than I was before, but does it matter if I'm condemned to Hell?
A prolonged sigh leaves my lungs as I resign myself to it all.
"Psst! Runt!"
My eyes flicker to the side, assuming the voice is of my own imagination, but it's not. Squinting, I find a short, red-skinned humanoid creeping around the corner of the room for my cell. What in the Hell? Is that? I think that's a Nain Rouge, but I'm not sure.
"What."
It tiptoes over toward me, remaining low to the floor as it shoves a plate of food to me. Cut-up flesh, still wearing scraps of whatever clothing the being had on upon its death. A demon, most certainly. It's not even cooked. But I'm... so hungry.
My mouth waters in anticipation as the short creature taps its fingers together excitedly. It bounces from foot to foot, landing only on its shoeless toes, which are only five in total, seeing as some have been removed.
"Would you... perhaps like to work together?"
I can't help but furrow my brow as the thoughts of hunger are washed away by pure focus. Ether whirls within my mind as I get my brain thinking and moving. A thousand possibilities of what he is offering flow through my mind, but he continues before I land on the one he presents.
"Would you like to kill her Majesty Woodworm with me?"
Immediately, I shake my head vehemently, assuming this is some kind of trick. But this Nain Rouge doesn't take no for an answer. Its voice grows in volume as it shakes the bars with frustration.
"Come on! Do you think it's any better for me? I'm 'misfortune' made real. Even if I don't have any of those Sigils, they still hate me! She ate my favorite toe yesterday! I can't ask anyone else but you! You're... strong even if they make you seem weak. Please. If you help, I can help you take the leap."
Again, I want to refuse, but I stop myself as it offers the last bit. I could not, under any circumstance, care less about how a demon lives its life or its woes, but if it can help me advance... Then this might be worth it.
"How so? What even is your name?"
The critter prances from his uneven toes to the balls of his feet as the anticipation mounts in his body. The eyes of the critter widen to show the totality of its beady red eyes.
"I don't have one! But! My first Sigil was a Philosopher! That means I can help see the way forward for you! It's why her Majesty Woodworm hasn't killed me yet..."
The nameless one trails off with saturated sadness, and I feel a bit of it rest within my chest. No name? What the fuck is this place? It really is Hell. How does something live without a name? Poor bastard. He even has a Sigil like Wyatt's that's useless for combat at the early stages.
I shake my head at this Nain Rouge, though. I don't need guidance forward. At this point, I just need another Sigil. I have my Proof and my Absolution.
"I don't need guidance right now. All I need is a Sigil. Mentalist, preferably."
With my words, the nameless one smiles with an eerie grin. Then, it holds out some kind of jar with a flickering light within it to me.
"You see this? It's not a Mentalist, but I can trade it for one! Just... give me a few hours!"
I stare at the see-through jar with the utmost surprise. A Sigil in a jar? Is that even possible? My shock evidently shows.
"Do you humans not know of these? Capsules? When a creature dies, we put their Sigil in a Capsule. It stops artifacts from forming and saves Sigils for later. Doesn't give the benefit of a naturally absorbing one, though. Not that I've heard of anyone who has done that besides Her Majesty, anyhow."
Biting my lip, I nod to the nameless demon. I don't have many options here, and if this little thing wants out just as I do, I see no reason why we can't work this out.
***********************
Two days. It's been two days, and that Nain Rouge still hasn't appeared. I barely survived another fight. Another 6th Sigiled demon, though this one was speed-oriented. I hardly was able to even see it. Practically bleeding through my pores, I slide down the wall of my cell, finally giving up the wait.
Perhaps it was just my imagination, after all. A Nain Rouge? Wanting to help me? A jar with a Sigil? Too outlandish. I could never be that fortunate.
"Psst? You still ailve?"
Huh? I flip my eyes around, searching for the voice, but I can't seem to find it anywhere visually. Scratching at my tumultuous Ether as my headache spikes further, I discover the Nain Rouge on the other side of the wall behind me.
It's real?
"I'm alive."
I reply with the only thing I can. After I do so, the Nain Rouge gleefully responds.
"Yes! I knew you'd survive against Geln! Here! I got it! I just had to... do some things in exchange. No one ever does a fair deal with a Nain."
A little part of me feels for the demon as we are in similar circumstances, but I wash away that sensation in favor of focus. We may both be slaves, but I cannot die here. I need to get out. I want... There is so much for me to do. I need to avenge Bonfire, first. And then... then I'll head home. I want to see my mother's grave again. Gathering my resolve, I stare at the bricks like a madman.
"So? How are you going to get it to me through this wall?"
The nameless demon grunts as I hear the bricks in the wall shift slightly. Then, one pops out as a jar follows it. A scampering of feet is all I hear after a quick, wishful promise.
"If you need anything else, I'll try! But... it's not easy! Get stronger, please! No misfortune in the Pits!"
I watch as the jar rolls along the black stone before halting against my ankle. Bending down, I pick up the jar, finding a lever on the front of it. Twisting the lever, I feel it open wide, revealing the beautiful sensation of resonance inside.
With a quick grasp, I take it into my hand, unwilling to wait any longer. Yet as I do so, an imperceptible scale appears beside the jar, revealed only to my mind, not my eyes. It tilts down, as if favoring me, before the light is stolen, only to be replaced by another and shoved toward me. And then, the darkness fades to a new place. A fiery, burning hellscape even worse than the literal Hell. In every single direction I could possibly pick, there is lava, coiling magma, and outstretching dark fog above.
I stand upon a small island of rock, not yet melted by the heat. With surprise and alarm, I twist every which way, hoping to find something, anything, but there is simply nothing but fire and brimstone. The Devil... what did he do? That balance... he's fucking with me again, isn't he?
The Fiery Pits, huh? I should've figured I'd never see The Roundtable again. For how creepy it was, I much, much preferred it over all this madness.
My feet shift on the rock as I realize that even the stone beneath me is heating up. As it does so, a bright light appears beside me before being enraptured by a shimmering darkness. My heart sinks at the sight as I bear witness to a demon with expansive, alabaster wings.
They face me with open arms, inviting me to the embrace of something that I could never agree with, even in this terrible depth.
"Come, child. Join the Allmother."
"I'm gonna have to say no to that one, lady."
The bountiful skin held hidden by shaped rock tells me of their gender, but it doesn't relieve me one bit. In fact, I only grow more nervous, more anxious, with a pounding heartbeat, as I know how awful this will be and how little my chances are. I step to the side, circling the Angel as I present a question of my own. Perhaps with some information, I can weasel out of this.
"But... I might consider it if you answer some questions. Why are you here? How are you here? What is your name?"
The demon twists to face me, her clawed fingers clasping together like that of a prayer. I can't reach into her mind here like I would in reality, but I can still tell that she is... not opposed to my words. I can still play her a little if I'm careful.
"I am Ireful. The third of my siblings and the last child of Her Divinity. As for why I'm here... isn't it apparent? To recruit those with potential to our great family. As for how... well, that's equally obvious. The Allmother now owns all the so-called 'Lighthouses'. Anyone who enters can now meet us just as quickly as waving to a neighbor. Though, in these Pits, it's been that way for quite some time. Gluskab's Divinity held out for The Cabin the longest."
My brain accelerates to the peak of what I can do without Ether as I immediately understand that this creature is far more powerful than I could have imagined. A child of the Mother Below? This thing has to be a Dominion, at least, right? Fuck...
I'm so fucking dead. Or... maybe not. If things have been like this for a while in Hell, then surely all the demons should be overflowing with Darklight, but they aren't.
From what intel I've gathered, Woodworm is waging war against the Loyalists or the Motherbound. And she's not alone. There are at least four more Demigods who have joined her in her defense. Yes. Defense. That's all it is. I'm among the few excitements the demons within Harlot's Grove can enjoy because of the ongoing war.
They still can't help but send allies to their death, though, at my hands. So stupid. I guess they must just not see things that way. To the demons, their entertainment is just as important as their lives, just as their prides are.
Nonetheless, there must be a way out of this. How, though? Do I have to fight her? No way. I'd lose. Is this a game of tricks? Of charisma? Of simply surviving long enough?
I don't know. But what I do know... is that a muscle in the back of my mind is tingling—my Power.
The Devil took my Nightmares, which prevented the use of my Power as it stemmed from them, but here? I can feel it again. And it's yearning to be used. Was it not based of nighmares? Was it... based on something else? Dreams? No... this isn't a dream. Wait... I think I know. The collective consciousness! That's how these Lighthouses get us. It has to be. That means... I can touch it, meld it, to call others to my stead. My Nightmares might be over, but Daymare is something far more profound. Before this grand demon, I close my eyes, searching inwardly.
And as I look into my own being, I expand, my mind going far, far beyond the confines of the self. Purposefully, feeling the connection closer than ever before, I dive into the sea of minds that exists within reality. It is easy to interact with another when they are close, as proximity matters just as the physical world does, but I can overcome that. I've done it before. I just need... to do it manually this time. With that dive, I quickly discover a bright, incandescent light in the distance, shining a thousand times more radiantly than any other even as Ireful questions me. Whoever this is... they must also be in a Lighthouse.
"What are you doing, half-breed?"
How she addresses me only adds to the force I throw before my search, and in the vast darkness, most lights only amounting to that of a match, I find a glorious pyre burning to the endless cosmos of minds and souls. And... feeling it to be oddly familiar, I yank on that fire, hauling it toward me with my mind. But it doesn't react at first. Desperate for aid, I can only plead, beg, and scream for their help. Because without their aid, I will surely die. My shaky hands and trembling lungs tells me that I am outclassed here, and I do not want to become something... other.
I hear pounding feet as Ireful strides toward me, suspicious of my actions. She reaches out for my eyes as I open them in a panic. Her hellish nails stab right for my pupils, the obsidian things growing large in my view, but a metallic arm has its fingers tightly wrapped around her wrist, preventing the fingers from gouging out my eyes.
"Wyatt?"
"Abraham?"
We both surprise each other as the demon's shock is a whole magnitude higher than both of ours. The Graves, however, doesn't hesitate for a moment, as if he's experienced something akin to this. He pivots his hip and leverages his whole body's strength to throw the demon to the rocky ground with a grand rumble of force.
I then watch as he extends his palm, only for nothing to come out of it. His confused face elicits my explanation as Ireful backtracks, staring at Wyatt with hate.
"I didn't actually pull you. Daymare isn't working. Neither is Nightmare, but here, in a Lighthouse, I can still use my Power."
My friend nods as he stands in front of me, holding himself with more confidence than I've ever seen. At the same time, he drops a bomb of importance on mel, finding something to be even more important than this battle.
"Bonfire is still alive. He's infected with Darklight, but he hasn't lost yet. I'll do what I can to help him, though. Maybe now I can..."
Wyatt strides forward, and I open my mouth to warn him of Ireful. Yet, he doesn't seem to need it at all. The demon is the one who is actually afraid.
"Graves... Eldest is almost done. You were lucky today."
My friend laughs jovially, flicking a thumb behind him to point at the endless magma. Yet, I know that is not what he motions to.
"Funny. I already heard that once today."
Then, Ireful scowls and abruptly vanishes, leaving behind a torn tablet of stone on the ground. I immediately move to it, knowing what it is despite never seeing it before. Upon touching it, my mind is full of knowledge and... new things.
A part of you has been sealed away, dealt to the highest bidder. It will never return. All boons have a price. And all exacted prices have boons. Blessed by the Devil.
Your seventh Sigil toward Partiality. You are no longer Wondrous. You are no longer a feeble creature. Wings have grown to send the Angel into the skies above. The Sigil and the man have begun their fusion. You have taken a leap beyond your race. Humans hold nothing in common with one such as you other than birth. Nahullo have never born something akin to you, anyway.
The Noct Noetic.
The righteous mind of balance. Able to punish those who tread upon the amoral path. A single mind, with a piercing justice, following no point of reference but their own within the sea of consciousnesses. Alone, yet a spire of solidity amidst the lava. The mind and cause have fused, capable of intertwining for force.
You have achieved a Metamorphosis of being. Many struggles and triumphs have led to this point. Gods, beings above any caliber known, have tossed their wills to witness your shift. Once more, your mind, your brain, elevates its position. Thoughts shall be swifter than lightning, yet with each thought shall come a physical might should it be willed.
One absolute boon yet exists for my dear Noct Noetic. A soul is something to be cherished, yet to you, many are sources of nightmares. With the dreams gone, there is a gap to be filled. Such space is left that for a mind to make the journey through reality, it no longer has to be alone. Nor does the distance have to be quite so distant. To turn a body into thoughts is not an impossible task for one such as you.
May your journey, filled with brimstone, be glorious, long, and worthy of my aid.
I turn to Wyatt as I hold the piece of rock inscribed with unreadable words. He stares at it with wonder, just as I did moments ago. The younger man, however, smiles wide with a joyful question.
"Are you an Angel now, Abraham?"
I nod, answering him succinctly. The joy is impossible to hide, but so is the sorrow. As... I am stuck in Hell.
"I believe I am. But... I'm in Hell. I may never see you again. I am sorry. I should never have made a deal with the Devil."
Wyatt's head sinks lowly, but he gradually raises it up. His smile doesn't leave even with my news. I can tell he is shaken. Still, he doesn't let it show.
"That's okay. I'm in the Underworld right now. I need to find my father anyway, and it seems he's at the Weirs, the entrance to Hell. I'll find you. We'll find you. Then... we'll go back to the surface together."
His hopeful dreams bulge out with such promise and self-confidence that I can't bring myself to dash them. I'm in the deepest part of Hell. There are thousands of miles of Motherbound-owned Hell between the entrance to the Underworld and me.
I won't let him continue talking about the possibility of raising my hope too much. Somehow, the Devil's words have sunk deep. Despair has become my home. This little... this little reprieve has been enough. My eyes turn back to the tablet as Wyatt reaches out for me.
A Noetic uses the prowess of their mind to create justice, to right the wrongs of themselves and those around them. The strength of justice is directly proportional to one's belief in the amoral. To rise higher, to become more, much is needed. But first and foremost, you must sentence a being to penance that would otherwise sentence you to death.
To continue, my Noct Noetic, place your mind within the Sigil and return to whence you came.
I follow the words and return to the cell. My whole body begins to crack and warp with strength as I feel my Sigil interact with my mind and the much deeper part—the soul. Stepping forward, I immediately grasp one of the newer parts of my Sigil, a skill I can use.
Ether twists and winds from my forehead, my core, and ends in my eyes. The pinpoint of my pupils is the position on the other side of the cell, and for a moment, I feel unrestrained, without form, and in the next moment, I am beyond the cell.
The handcuffs I was wearing, alongside all my clothing, are gone, too. Slightly embarrassed but unexplainably excited, I grab my clothes through the bars and redress myself. It would appear I have gained two skills with this.
Well, my Power has grown even further, becoming short-distance teleportation using my mind as a medium and long-distance using other's minds. Immediately, I reach for a distant soul with Daymare, knowing that I can unearth it. Yet, no matter how long I look, I find nothing but a film over my surroundings, Hell. But I don't stop, I push harder, endeavoring to break through whatever force isolates Hell. Then, a flash of pain and the slam of a gavel pushes me to my knees as a grandiose vision overtakes mine.
A colosseum, filled to the brim with witness stands and jury rows, stands to overlook an awful arena where a lone man fights against a demon. Then, another. And another. And another. Time passes rapidly in my vision as it begins to crack as the man glances up at the sky, finding me with his cruel eyes. The next thing I know, I'm wiping at my eyes, swiping the blood onto the floor that they have leaked.
Damn.
I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. If it were, there'd be a hell of a lot more demons on the surface. That... place must be what keeps us in here. The name comes to mind despite the fact I've never heard it before—the Crimson Court. Regardless of the blockade to my freedom, I smile and stride toward the door. Before, there was no hope. But... I now have a destination, a flicker of emotion that connects me to that man. And... I have a way to escape.
Teleport. I can do some shit with this.