No sunlight reaches this far underground. Instead, there’s a large orb of artificial light affixed to the top of the cavern, which must be a mile high from us.
They have their own miniature sun.
Wow.
Do they have fake rain, too? Is this a completely self-sustaining system? I bet humans could survive on Mars with this technology! It’s completely unfair that they get to hoard this knowledge to themselves.
“Hey, Dusk,” I whisper, projecting my voice ahead of me. “Am I the first human to ever come here?”
“Probably,” he answers dismissively, and the silence overtakes us once again.
We skirt along the edge of the city’s lower tier, keeping close to the cliffside. It brings us past various styles of earthen housing, seemingly separated into neighborhoods by style. Most interestingly, I keep catching glimpses of colorful tents and canopies in the distance, peeking out over terracotta rooftops. It looks like some kind of circus set up in the middle of the city, and I make a mental note to investigate further another day, should I get the chance.
Before long, we make it to a steep, zig-zagging passageway up the cliff, where the commotion of the lower level is muffled. As we ascend the sloping cobblestone path, Dusk looks over his shoulder to check on me. “Other than flying, it’s the quickest way up.”
“The route hasn’t changed since your last visit?” I quirk an eyebrow.I’m curious to know when, exactly, his last visitwas. Probably during the Holy Wars, or something else of ancient history, with how old he’s hinted at being.
“Of course not. But, you know, now that you mention it…” Dusk turns back to Abaddon’s direction and shouts, “Hey, Your Kingliness! Why not just build some damn elevators already?”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The ignorant, haughty bastard of an angel has no sense of self-preservation. Can he really not keep himself from instigating the King?
“Those are unnecessary.” Abaddon doesn’t turn to look at us in his response. Quick, curt, and dismissive. I suppose that’s the best I could ask for.
We may survive this yet.
The winding passageway bypasses the second tier altogether, but I can still make out its general agricultural purpose. The side of the concave city farthest from me looks like cropland, while the one we’re bypassing is riddled with atrocious monsters kept in pens. I take one glance over the edge at the nearest enclosure, which contains cow-sized grubs with a repulsive number of legs and eyes, and my stomach immediately sours.
I decide to fix my eyes firmly on Dusk’s wings while I unravel my canteen to choke down some water. Once I’m certain it won’t come spewing back up, I hoarsely ask him, “Hey, uh, what’s with the nightmare creatures? Are they part of the apocalypse, too?”
“No,” he replies simply. “Just exotic meat.”
Oh, that’s… disgusting! Ew!
I might be going vegan while I’m here. Perhaps indefinitely. I don’t know.
After a very long stretch of trying my hardest to keep my eyes off theculinary delicacies, we finally make it to the third tier. I let myself look up again, to marvel at the opulent architecture. It’s a bit Victorian and Gothic, with spires and arches and other building adornments that have fallen out of style in any modern construction. The massive manors, often gated and widely spread out from each other, seem apt neighborsfor a medieval royalty.
At the end of our straight path, built on top of the largest hill in the city, is a massive complex standing sentinel above everything else.
The Royal Fortress of the Abyss.
The dimly lit edges of its walls bleed into the cavern’s red earth, making it hard to see where the castle begins and ends. It’s shadow incarnate, fitting for a King of Hell—or the next best thing there is in the mortal plane. I suppose I should be grateful for the mutant bugs and mysterious, dragon-winged angel. If fate had worked slightly differently, I could be walking through the souls of the damned with the literal devil…
Pleasant thoughts.
When we finally reach the black iron gates of the castle’s courtyard, a handful of locust guards rush down from their watchtowers to wordlessly open the gates for their King. I can’t help but notice how particularlymassivethey are, each wearing unique golden armor much more fearsome than any commoners we passed before this point. No two sets of their metal shells seem to be identical, with additional protections and weapons adorning them. Spikes jut out of one’s shoulders, while sharp blades are affixed to another’s arms.
And I can hardly think under the weight of their beady eyes.
It’s not quite a death stare, given that they have no emotional expression on their cryptic faces, but the uncanniness is just as terrifying.
“The staff will deliver your belongings to your rooms,” Abaddon declares, catching my focus. I instantly decide to use it as an excuse to dismount my camel. As if my latent riding instincts have finally awakened, my execution is damn near perfect, too.
Or maybe I just can’t get away from the locust guards fast enough.
It seems Abaddon isn’t one for waiting around, either, which I can be grateful for under these circumstances. Without checking to see if we’re still following, he starts heading through the derelict garden of the royal courtyard.
In my urgency to leave, I pass by Dusk?—
