Faith had vague knowledge about the Seven Princes of Hell.
When she was nine, she had found herself a new fascination. She had holed herself up in Abraham's library, studying these creatures of Hell. There was not much she remembered from that summer when she was nine, learning. There were seven Princes—Sloth, Gluttony, Greed, Envy, Lust, Wrath and Pride, ruled over by their Queen, Lilith. She had recalled images of portals, perhaps that was why she had been able to identify one so quickly.
According to history, the last time a portal had opened in the mortal realm was centuries ago, when Oriph had struck an alliance with Queen Lilith.
She bit on her lower lip. If a portal powerful enough to allow Prince Sloth to enter had been opened, then in about no time they would be facing the likes of Prince Wrath, or worse, Pride.
"It is no wonder my powers have little effect on the two of you." He turned his eyes to the sneering pair. "What an unusual match, the two of you."
"What have you done?" Faith was the first to strike up that question, rising cautiously. Her hand lingered on her sword.
"Their hearts. Do they beat?" Arechin inquired, cold sweat trickling down the side of his temple. Are they alive? Is what his question meant.
Sloth laughed, and Faith figured why. "Of course they do. '' He waved his hand, as if excusing Arechin's silly question. "I have simply slowed down time itself. They are moving, but you cannot notice. Their hearts are thumping, slowly." Faith remembered reading this too. Prince Sloth could manipulate time—but she very well knew that he could kill them all too, right now, if he wished to do so.
This was what it felt like to be in the presence of a Prince of Hell—it was pure oppression. Her chest ached, like she was going into a cardiac arrest.
He moved towards them, finally closing the distance between them. All her senses cried out for her to attack, but something told her it was a smarter choice not to attack Prince Sloth.
He glanced at Arechin's right hand, devoid of any weapon. His eyes remained fixated upon the metal bracelet encircling his wrist, "How sly." Prince Sloth turned his attention to Faith—her breath became shallow. Was she the only one who sensed the immense discomfort? Arechin did not stir.
"And you who evaded Death himself." He said. Her mind was swimming, and then drowning in the Doctor's words again.
She had little clue what that meant. Only her confusion was enhanced and screaming at her now.
She instinctively drew her nails across the soft skin of his face, scarring him. Black blood trickled down to his neck. He scoffed, but one swipe of his hand across this cheek had the wound disappearing in a second. Arechin tensed beside her, holding her hand down.
"Faith." Arechin warned her.
There was black blood under her nails.
"If you do that again, I will harm you. Terribly." Harm, not kill. She hadn't failed to notice.
Behind him, the portal was closing. If it closed, he would remain in her realm forever, haunting her kind. She could not allow that to happen. She took to the offensive, drawing her sword. He ducked her attacks with boredom, as she pushed him back towards the darkness. But he flicked his fingers, and another wave of magic was sent forth, seen as a black disturbance in the air. The distance between them was too little, and she had little time to evade it.
But Arechin pulled her to the side, and she escaped the dark force by a hair's breadth. But the magic struck one of the biggest pillars, taking it out.
If you do that again, I will harm you. Terribly.
That would've killed her!
Before she could try to push him back again, the ceiling shook. Tiny pieces of the ceiling fell, revealing the night sky beyond. He must've taken out a foundation pillar. She looked back at Sloth, and he was grinning as the portal closed behind him.
The circle of lightning entirely disappeared, leaving her staring terrified at nothing but a pillar.
NO. She wanted to scream, but he snapped his fingers and the demons began to move again. Or move normally, whatever. They filed past Arecchin and her—Arechin's grip tightening around her wrist in warning—and assembled behind their Prince.
"As I thought, two portals were opened tonight." He said, enjoying that he was getting the better of her.
Two Portals. Where was the other one? But she had a dreadful feeling she already knew. "For now, I will have these." He gestured to his army of nearly fifteen demons standing behind him. "But I sense more of my children beneath us. I will leave them to you."
Beneath us.
The catacombs.
He bowed, mockingly. "Until next time, Your Highness." He said, but his eyes were on her.
Then, he disappeared, with all of his fifteen demons.
The world around them recommenced.
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The world above them collapsed, and the tremors were felt even in the catacombs. Abraham was evacuating the people to safety, but she was here in the catacombs with Arechin—running. Under certain circumstances, she would've admired the crude beauty of this place, but not right now.
At some point, Tana had joined them. And she was telling Faith that Serria would not be harmed, because of some sort protection and Lord Kailas, and something about Serria being brave, and—
She did not care. She wasn't listening.
At some point, they came across fallen corpses of the citizens. Not one had been spared. Though Tana made it a point to gasp in shock and carefully make her way through the dead men, Faith and the Prince weren't so kind or patient. The bodies were trampled beneath their feet, and they knew by doing that they were disrespecting the dead in the worst way possible.
But all that mattered to them was Serria—her friend, sister.
Her heart sank when they encountered three more of the Vannuth in the catacombs. Prince Sloth did not lie, they were here.
Two portals.
She did not remember slaughtering them. She had slaughtered one, and Arechin two. They got past the Vannuth like they were only hurdles on track, and they were experienced equestrians
But nothing in the world, no Gods could ever change what they beheld in that bloody room. There was flesh and blood decorating the floor as if they were petals. There was no way they could identify a body—there wasn't even one left. She could tell that most of the parts had been digested, and gone.
She was vaguely aware that Arechin walked behind her, followed by a mortified Tana Khaos.
There was no way to describe the fear that gushed through her veins at that moment. She had never really known what fear was. No—not until she walked through a vast room crowded with the blood and flesh of her men, trying to find her dearest friend.
In the dimly lit room, she could see traces of blood on the walls. Blood splattered on the stone. Blood on the slabs made for a seating. Blood, Blood, everywhere.
She had never felt discomfort at the foul smell of rotting flesh or the coppery smell of blood. Or had she? Had she just gotten accustomed to it?
Dead or Alive?
Dead or Alive?
Dead or Alive?
Dead or Alive?
Dead or Alive?
She tripped on something—possibly a head. She fell face first to the floor, almost breaking her jaw. She fell on a ripped apart arm, strewn across the floor like a toy. She was almost going to vomit then.
But she turned around, rubbing her hand to her jaw. She turned just in time to see Arechin's knees buckle, like he was going to collapse. Tana stumbled back in horror.
Her eyes immediately sought out what had made her trip.
Dead.
Serria Ravenswood was dead.
For her butchered head lay unmoving on the cold floor.