She sees faces, not soul histories.
She sees survivors, not equations.
I sit with these thoughts through the night and most of the following day, until they settle into something like resignation.
This was always beyond me.
Beyond her.
The covenant stands. Souls from Hell will be granted their final chance. The balance will be tested. If God prevails, He will determine the fate of this world. If Lucifer does, enough power will be siphoned away to ensure he—and the power contained here—pose no threat to Heaven.
If he reigns, he will reign here for a term of a thousand years.
King of a diminished realm.
An impotent one, much as he is in Hell.
Which is precisely what he bargained for.
“Horseman?”
Lila’s lilting voice cuts through my thoughts.
“Are you still stewing, or are you finally up to talking today?”
I remain silent.
She sighs loudly, dramatically. “Because I’ve put this new puzzle Eri gave me together eight times now, and I’m officially bored out of my skull. Honestly, anything you say would be more exciting than watching me fail to find the same missing corner piece again. I think I dropped it into the vent by the toilet—or maybe the toilet itself—because I’ve searched this cell a thousand times and haven’t been able to find it.”
She pauses.
“We could talk about nothing at all. Or anything, really. I’m just super bored, and having another person to finally talk to would be really nice. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Eri is great, but she leaves me alone quite a lot and doesn’t always have time to chat when she’s here. Although I do like it when she props the doors open and talks to me while she works.”
I shake my head, trying to come to grips with the reality that Eridessa is keeping a human prisoner.
How could she do such a thing?
Experimenting on insects and animals is one thing. Playing God with another human is something else entirely.
“How about we start with something simple,” Lila continues. “How was your meal? Or we could vent about the fact that Eri has some weird personal vendetta against salt. Seriously, whatever she brings me could use at least twice as much. Are you a salt man or a pepper guy?”
There’s the rustle of cloth, then the soft padding of footsteps across the stone floor of her cell.
“Gods almighty, my back is killing me,” she mutters. Her voice pitches upward. “Is your bed soft? Mine is… well, sorta. But apparently my back hates it just the same.”
A long silence stretches between us.
“What do you say? Can I at least get a hello back? Anything?”
She exhales in a long-drawn-out sigh.
“Look, I don’t know if you’re just the strong, silent type or if you think I’m here to steal your divine secrets, but I promise I won’t. I barely have the energy to get out of bed these days, let alone overthrow Heaven.”
I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, which I haven’t slept in, elbows braced on my thighs, fingers interwoven between my knees. I’ve been staring at the floor for hours, and even my immortal bones have gone stiff.
I can’t see Lila from here, but the soft padding of footsteps resumes as though she’s pacing.
“Fine. Be Mr. Broody. You’re Mr. All-powerful, and suddenly, you find yourself locked up. I get it.” Her voice carries easily through the corridor. “I mean, Eri did tell me what she was going to do and warned me you’d be joining me very soon, but it still must’ve come as a shock. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a rope that could steal divine powers. Maybe you didn’t either. And hey, it sucks. I get it, man.”
