The hum of city life buzzed through the streets, a chaotic symphony of honking cars, distant chatter, and the dull roar of construction. For Ivy Sinclair, it was just another day. She moved quickly through the crowd, clutching a cup of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, distractedly scrolling through emails. She was already running late for work, but that was nothing new.
As she stepped onto the crosswalk, her mind drifted to mundane thoughts—deadlines, weekend plans, and the countless things she had yet to check off her to-do list. It was just as her foot touched the asphalt that she heard the screech of tires. She barely had time to look up before the truck came barreling around the corner, its driver's panicked expression matching her own.
There was a sudden impact—a sickening crunch—and the world went black.
---
She awoke with a start, gasping for breath. The ground beneath her was rough and warm, like cracked pavement baking under a hot sun. The air smelled of sulfur and smoke, stinging her nose and making her eyes water. She staggered to her feet, her head spinning, and took in her surroundings. It was like nothing she had ever seen—or imagined.
The sky was a deep crimson, streaked with black clouds that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. Jagged cliffs jutted out in the distance, and the ground was littered with strange, twisted shapes—bones, charred wood, and what looked disturbingly like human remains. Rivers of molten lava snaked through the landscape, casting an eerie orange glow that only made the shadows darker.
"What the... Where am I?" she whispered, her voice trembling. She tried to remember what had happened. The truck, the crosswalk—had she died?
As she stumbled forward, the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet. A low growl rumbled through the air, and she spun around to find a grotesque creature staring at her. It was roughly the size of a bear, with leathery, blackened skin, a maw full of needle-like teeth, and eyes that glowed like dying embers.
"Lost, are we?" the creature hissed, its voice a gravelly rasp.
Ivy took a step back. "Stay away!" she shouted, though her voice lacked the confidence she was trying to project.
The creature chuckled—a sound like rocks grinding together. "There's no need to be frightened, little mortal. You're in Hell now. Though, I must say, you seem a bit early."
"Hell?" she repeated, her mind struggling to process the word. "This can't be real. I—I'm not supposed to be here."
The creature tilted its head, as if contemplating her statement. "Perhaps not. But you're here now, aren't you?" It gestured with a clawed hand toward a looming structure in the distance, a dark fortress carved into the side of a cliff. "If you want answers, you'd best head that way. The Reaper's Hall will sort you out."
With that, the creature turned and lumbered off, its laughter echoing behind it. Ivy stood there, frozen for a moment before her sense of survival kicked in. Whatever this place was, standing around wouldn't help her escape it. She began walking toward the fortress, the oppressive heat intensifying with every step.
---
The path to the Reaper's Hall was lined with bizarre, nightmarish figures—souls of the damned, demons of all shapes and sizes, and other unidentifiable horrors. She kept her eyes straight ahead, avoiding the disturbing sights around her, though the air seemed to thrum with whispers, cries, and unintelligible mutterings.
When she finally reached the gates of the fortress, two hulking guards stood in front, their features obscured by armor that seemed to be made of shadows. As she approached, one of them stepped forward, his voice a deep rumble. "State your business."
"I—I don't know," she stammered, feeling absurd even as the words left her mouth. "I'm not supposed to be here. There was an accident... I'm not dead. At least, I don't think I am."
The guard raised a brow. "Not dead, you say?" He glanced at his companion, who shrugged as if to say, We've heard stranger. "Very well. Enter. You'll be taken to the registrar. If you're an anomaly, they'll deal with you."
The gates swung open with a groan, revealing a cavernous hall lit by flickering torches. The walls were adorned with grim tapestries depicting various stages of human suffering, and the air was thick with the scent of decay. Ivy walked forward, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor. At the far end of the hall was a grand desk, behind which sat a pale, skeletal figure poring over a massive ledger.
"Name?" the figure rasped without looking up.
"Ivy Sinclair," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
The figure flipped through the ledger, bony fingers skimming over the pages. After a moment, it stopped, its empty eye sockets peering up at her. "You're not on the list," it said, its voice laced with something that might have been amusement or annoyance. "That's... unusual."
"So what happens now?" Ivy asked, her anxiety rising.
The figure tapped its skeletal fingers on the desk, as if considering her fate. "It seems you weren't meant to die just yet. But since you've crossed the threshold into Hell, we can't exactly send you back. You've seen too much." It paused, then added, "There is, however, an option—though it's unconventional."
"What is it?" Ivy asked, clutching at any glimmer of hope.
"You'll be assigned a position in Hell's workforce. We could use an extra pair of hands in the Reaper Division. You'll be working as an assistant to our top Grim Reaper."
"An assistant?" she echoed, incredulous. "You're kidding, right?"
"Not at all," the registrar replied, already scribbling notes in the ledger. "I suggest you make your way to the Reaper's Office. Your new boss will be waiting."
Ivy stood there, her mind reeling as she tried to process everything. An assistant to a Grim Reaper? She didn't even know what that entailed, but the alternative—wandering aimlessly through Hell—seemed far worse. With a deep breath, she turned and headed toward her new fate.
As she walked away, the registrar's hollow voice echoed after her. "Welcome to Hell, Ivy Sinclair. We hope you enjoy your stay."