Of course, she didn’t. Why would she do the rational thing when self-punishment is so much more appealing? Mortal logic. It’s insufferable. I clench my jaw and teleport to Gehenna before I can throw something through the palace wall.
Gehenna sits at the southernmost point of Hell, and reeks of agony. Not metaphorically—literally. The scent of burning flesh, molten stone, and soul ash clings to the air like rot. The screams are endless, echoing from the pit so deep it may as well kiss the centre of the universe. Even the rocks seem to bleed. Rivers of lava coil like serpents through canyons lined with spikes that are carved from bone. No blue sky. No mercy. Only blood-coloured clouds and red lighting splitting the air without warning. The walls rise in uneven ridges, jagged mountains that have been gnawed raw by time. There’s no horizon here—only down. Down into the pits where the most wretched are torn apart, re-stitched, and torn again. Redemption does not exist in Gehenna; this is where the universe forgets you.
I hate it. It’s too hot, too loud, too fucking much. I’m glad this part of my realm belongs to someone else. I find said someone else by the obsidian pillars near the deepest gorge.
He’s lounging like a man on vacation, wearing a black tailored suit that is utterly pristine, not a wrinkle in sight. He looks like any well-dressed mortal. Handsome and smiling, but it’s all a costume. His true form peeks through in subtle wrongness. His eyes, glowing red, molten like the rivers below. Horns, a deep blood red, curling from his temples like a crown of sin. His wings are sharp and the colour of arterial gore, stretching lazily at his back like velvet made from nightmares.
Lucifer.
He’s beautiful, I’ll give him that. A perfect nightmare crafted from the very core of Hell.
He grins when he sees me. “Ah, Kori, finally. I was starting to think you’d ghosted me.”
I ignore the nickname; it’s not worth the energy.
Lucifer jerks his chin towards the gorge. “You sent me quite the gift, by the way. That boy’s screams? Chef’s kiss. Top ten material. Might even bump Sir Thomas the Thief off the list—remember him? Anyway, his legs are fucked for the next century, and we haven’t even started act two of torture.” He chuckles. It’s a dark, velvet sound that slithers under the skin. I say nothing, just stare, tensing my jaw.
He watches me carefully, then cocks a brow. “This one’s personal, huh?”
I don’t answer; instead, I walk to the edge. The pit yawns below, vast and alive. I find Ethan immediately, well, what’s left of him, twisting and screaming. Each breath he takes is met with fire crawling into his lungs. One of the tormentors—a faceless demon with hands of long, brutal talons—drags him across jagged stone, while another pours molten lava into the cracks of his shattered legs. His voice is a threadbare rasp, basically gone.His suffering, however, will never be gone. It will never end. For as long as Hell exists, so will his torment.
Lucifer steps up beside me, tsking. “Still not gonna tell me why you personally delivered prey? That’s a new one.”
Silence.
He leans in slightly, grinning. “Let me guess. Has something to do with that sweet little blonde bitch he stuck his dick into?”
I don’t think before I move. My hand wraps around his throat, and I slam him into the stone wall behind him. The force shatters the rock, cracks splintering through the cliff face. Lucifer’s feet leave the ground, dust falling all around us, yet his grin doesn’t falter.
“Don’t ever call her that again,” I snarl, voice low, guttural. “Do you understand me, Lucifer?”
He raises both hands lazily. “Relax, Kori. Touchy subject. Message received. No slander against your golden girl.”
I drop him. He lands lightly, brushing imaginary dust from his lapels like I hadn’t just tried to snap his neck.
“You know,” he muses, “I really should start keeping a tally for how often I do piss you off. What are we at now? Eighty-seven?”
“Ninety-three,” I mutter.
He beams. “We’ve passed ninety already? Gods, time flies when you’re being violently throttled.”
I narrow my eyes. “How many times have you been summoned lately?”
He lets out a sharp laugh. “Lately? Shit, I’ve barely had time to shave. The priests are on speed dial.”
I scowl. “Did you leak more of my summoning details?”
“I might’ve let a few scrolls fall into the wrong hands.” He shrugs. “They were fun hands.” He winks.
“You’re a fucking menace.”
“And you’re a dreamboat when you’re furious.” He winks. “Honestly, Kori, you should get pissed more often. It really brings out the murder in your eyes.” I turn my back on him, already heading for the ridge. “You should visit me more often; you light up the place.” He sing-songs.
“I don’t care how long you’ve ruled Gehenna, I am still to be your king. If you ever speak of her like that again, I will throw you into these pits and let the tormentors use your bones as cutlery.”
His laughter follows me, and I roll my eyes. I turn to look back over my shoulder before leaving, “Make him suffer more than required.”
“Overachieving is kind of my thing,” he drawls.
