The flickering embers of hell's abyss cast a chilling glow, extinguishing any hope that lingered within the damned souls trapped in its unrelenting cycle of agony. Ahab shuddered, not from the biting cold, but from the malevolent presence lurking in the dark recesses of the caverns, the foreboding path that led to his master's fortress.
The dead trees, their bark twisted in perpetual torment, seemed to bleed and wail in sorrowful melodies, their haunting songs echoing the tales of lives once lived in opulence, now forever lost to eternal suffering. Though bereft of leaves, their branches danced with a macabre grace, swaying to the unheard rhythms of the damned. These trees, once mighty leaders and kings, had been corrupted by power, their greed and selfishness now eternally punished, their souls forever trapped in this infernal realm.
Ahab hastened his pace, disregarding the pleas of the tormented souls that lined the pathway. Their cries echoed through the desolate landscape, entreating him to linger, to acknowledge their presence, to advocate for their plight before the master. But Ahab had grown accustomed to their supplications, and his heart had hardened against their sorrow.
The torches that hung from the crumbling walls, spaced six meters apart, cast an eerie glow. Their dark blue flames seemed to flicker with discontent, as if even the fires themselves were unhappy. Ahab avoided eye contact with the flames, knowing they sought to ensnare his attention, to persuade him to intercede on their behalf. For in this forsaken realm, he was deemed the most benevolent of the malevolent beings that ruled with an iron fist.
His brown tunic, a relic of his former life as king of Israel, billowed behind him like a dark cloud.
The once-white garment had been sullied by the horrors he had witnessed, and the sands of time had stained it a deep, mournful brown. His sandals, crafted from camel hide, remained remarkably intact, a testament to their durability despite the eons he had spent in this godforsaken land.
He marched forward with purpose, disregarding the sinister shadows that emerged from the tiny holes in the walls. He loathed those creatures, the worst of their kind, capable of draining a demon's energy in mere minutes. They served Asmodeus, the son of Lilith, Adam's first wife, and the ruthless commander of the demonic army in hell. These shadows were Asmodeus's personal spies, his eyes and ears, monitoring every soul who dared to tread the pathway.
After an eternity of walking, Ahab finally arrived at his destination.
Asmodeus, seated on a throne beneath the master's, sneered at him, his voice dripping with malice. "Speak your mind, Ahab, or forever hold your peace." Ahab felt the familiar tremor of fear, nausea, and revulsion that always accompanied his encounters with the commander, who seemed to take pleasure in his subservience.
Ahab's hatred for Asmodeus burned with an unrelenting ferocity, and the older demon reciprocated his scorn. Asmodeus viewed him as unworthy of his place among the honored damned, for he had not been forged in the depths of hell like himself. He saw Ahab as weak, a sentiment shared by many, who whispered among themselves that he was the most feeble of their kind. Ahab's appointment as an arch demon only fueled the resentment, with many grumbling in secret.
But what Ahab would never tolerate was Asmodeus's constant disrespect. He had once been a king, and he demanded some semblance of respect from the demon. "I am not answerable to you, Lapdog!" He spat, his fury igniting.
Asmodeus, infamous for his short temper, erupted in a split second. Shadows burst forth from his body, ensnaring Ahab in a chokehold that lifted him off the ground. The air was squeezed from his lungs as Asmodeus's grip tightened, his eyes blazing with malevolent intensity.
Ahab thrashed about, desperate to break free from the shadows' grasp as they invaded his nostrils, siphoning his essence. But he refused to succumb, countering by draining the shadows' own vital force and feeding on their energy. Asmodeus's pained growl testified to the effectiveness of Ahab's retaliation.
Just as the struggle seemed destined to escalate, the master's voice intervened, its soft, melodious tones a stark contrast to the tension. "Enough," the master commanded, their androgynous voice hypnotic in its allure. "Release him, Asmodeus. Ahab, cease your defiance."
Both demons groaned, their bodies responding to the master's words like puppets on strings, their free will temporarily suspended. Ahab's smirk taunted Asmodeus as he realized how much of the latter's shadows he had consumed, a small victory in their ongoing struggle.
"Ahab, you were granted a two-year sojourn on Earth. Why have you returned prematurely, and what tidings do you bring to my exalted presence?" The master's voice was low and commanding, their ruby eyes gleaming like embers beneath the shadowy mask that obscured their face. Ahab, kneeling in reverence, bowed his head and spoke.
"I have discovered the Uniganti, your holiness." The master's response was immediate, their dark throne creaking as they rose from their seat. The throne, crafted from the bones of the damned and adorned with hell's finest jewels, seemed to writhe in the flickering torchlight.
"Where, pray tell, did you find him?" The master's voice was rare and precious, their shadows hissing in anticipation. Ahab's head remained bent in deference.
"It is a she, your holiness," he replied, his voice unwavering.
The master's expression remained impassive, their deadpan tone chilling. "Ensure her... cooperation, Ahab. Leave no remnants of her soul intact. I desire my sister's despair to be absolute when she discovers her loss."
—_–
Amelia gazed at her boss, who had been disregarding her for the past ten minutes, and prompted her once more. She was perplexed by her silence, having followed Castiel's instructions to interrupt her immediately if Mr. Okinawa called, regardless of her current task. Mr. Hiro Okinawa, CEO of Okinawa Tech in Tokyo, was a stickler for punctuality, just like Ms. Wellington, and his company's rotors were crucial components in the Raven Warcraft, a prized asset of the military.
"Ms. Wellington, Mr. Okinawa requests your presence, ma'am," Amelia repeated, her voice firm but respectful. Her boss, Castiel, remained engrossed in her mysterious activities, kneeling with hands clasped together in a pleading gesture, her face upturned, and muttering unintelligible words that sounded harsh and unfamiliar, similar to Arabic, but Amelia knew it wasn't, having learned about the language from her Iranian friend in high school.
Thirty-five minutes passed before Castiel finally concluded her mysterious activities. Recalling Amelia's earlier attempts to get her attention, she gestured for her assistant to fetch her black leather jacket, which complemented her black tank top and army fatigues - a testament to her military background, Amelia surmised. As she handed over the jacket, Amelia seized the opportunity to remind Castiel about Mr. Okinawa's call.
"Inform him I'll return his call at my convenience," Castiel instructed, her brow arching slightly. "And if he's not satisfied with that, tell him I'll take my business elsewhere. And, Miss Gianluigi?" She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Yes, ma'am?" Amelia replied, her tone even.
"Why didn't you inform him I was occupied?" Castiel's tone was laced with a hint of reprimand, her eyes gleaming with a subtle intensity.
"i was instructed to notify you of his call, regardless of your workload," Amelia reminded her boss, her voice steady.
Castiel's expression turned solemn, her eyes gleaming with a hint of warning. "That's why I haven't dismissed you yet, Miss Gianluigi. Remember, no matter the urgency or the individual's stature, never interrupt my prayer sessions. I am unforgiving when in meditation, and the consequences would be... fatal. Do I make myself clear?" Her tone was devoid of humor, leaving Amelia taken aback, knowing her boss's avowed atheism according to the office gossips.
"Yes, ma'am," Amelia replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
"And, Amelia?" Castiel added, her demeanor softening slightly.
"Yes, boss?" Amelia responded, her eyes locked on her boss's intense gaze.
"You are dismissed," Castiel said, her expression returning to its usual stoic mask.
—_—
Castiel's office, once a hub of activity, now felt suffocatingly solitary. She abandoned her desk and retreated to her penthouse apartment on the top floor of the RavenCorp skyscraper, seeking a change of scenery. But even the luxurious surroundings failed to alleviate her boredom and loneliness. She longed for the company of her old friends, but they were scattered across the globe, and her family was similarly distant, none residing in the United States or even North America.
Castiel, the tech mogul, envied the simplicity of others' lives - their freedom from the weight of responsibility, their ability to live without the burden of an entire race's dependence. She was, in truth, the queen of loneliness. A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she acknowledged the irony.
With all her employees gone for the day, returned to their families and loved ones, Castiel was left to face the emptiness of her own company. She decided she had had enough of the solitude, her own thoughts suffocating her. It was time to seek out new distractions, or perhaps, rediscover old ones.
Castiel lazily made her way to her ensuite bathroom, where a refreshing shower revitalized her. She then sauntered into her closet, selecting a comfortable black tank top, sweatpants, and a pair of Jordans. Adding her favorite black beanie, she left her bedroom and headed to the rooftop.
As she stood at the edge, she stretched her limbs, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. A familiar sensation coursed through her back and shoulder blades, and with a joyful grin, she felt her midnight black wings burst forth. Laughing exuberantly, she leaped into a freefall, then suddenly burst into flight, reveling in the rush.
"It's been so long!" she exclaimed into the night sky, memories flooding back to the first time she had unfurled her wings, the thrill and exhilaration still fresh in her mind.
***