Page 87 of Where Light Cannot Follow

Satan himself walks us out through the gardens and to the gates. I remain utterly silent lest he claim I broke my word.

I need my voice.

I need it to say goodbye.

Though I dislike how Dante attends to Satan's promises—his grand visions of crafting new realms, placing certain demons as lesser gods over territories of their own. All under his dominion, of course. But what will they fill those worlds with but more demons? Demons who must feed on broken souls. Broken souls who accumulate, cluttering this place that was never meant to be a resting ground. Bringing their worst impressions and fears into it. Shaping it into what it has become.

Hell.

When servants open the gates, Satan offers his most winning smile to Dante and another firm handshake before turning to me.

"Oh, and Virgil, once you've fulfilled your vow, do stop by to see me again on your journey down, won't you?"

His demeanor is all pleasantness, but his eyes could crush galaxies.

This is no request.

I nod deeply, not daring to tempt his wrath by speaking too soon.

He turns and walks back toward his palace, swallowed gradually by the manicured beauty of his gardens. Dante steps beside me, as close as he can be without being close enough to touch. It’s close enough to remind us both how little substance I possess.

I sigh as we make our way back onto the path. I shall have to face Satan once Dante is safe. I'm certain the punishment he crafts will teach me new depths of cruelty I've yet to imagine.

But that will keep for now.

"Should we worry?" Dante whispers once we've traveled far enough that the estate is nothing but a long wall slowly swallowed by trees.

I glance once over my shoulder, ensuring we're beyond observation, before unleashing my voice from its prison. "If he says we may go to the mountain, then we shall face no obstacles along the way. He keeps his word absolutely. It's all the things he doesn't say that prove dangerous."

Dante frowns. "I didn't believe him, Virgil. Not a word of it."

Relief washes through me, but something colder follows.

I spent that dinner voiceless, watching Satan work his ancient craft. The offers of power, territory, legacy. These are the lures that catch men like Dante. I'd steeled myself to watch him take the bait.

But Satan's pride undid him. He assumed Dante's weakness would mirror his own: ambition, dominion, the hunger to rule. It would have once. Not now. Not after Dante’s trials. It took him half the meal to realize his error. I saw the moment it landed. The shift in his eyes when he stopped appealing to Dante's pride and started leveraging me.

Me.

I've become this man's weakness. Not power. Not escape. Not even the light waiting at the mountain's peak.

Me, who cannot touch him. Who will watch him ascend and remain behind. Who has nothing to offer but company on a path that ends in separation.

Something cracks quietly in my chest. I should be honored, perhaps. Instead, I feel the weight of it, the cruelty of mattering to someone I cannot keep.

The path is already growing steep beneath our feet. We're already ascending. Satan built his fortress at the mountain's base, close enough to monitor who approaches. Close enough to intercept those he desires.

"You seemed interested in what he was saying," I venture carefully.

"I won't deny that. But I've known men like him before. Many of them." His gaze slides to me, so open and unguarded. Nothing like the armored, calculating man I first encountered. That man is gone. Dead, in fact, and someone better has risen in his place. He offers me a soft smile. "I trust you, Virgil."

The way he says my name, it feels different than any pull I've ever experienced. Even from him. There is something intimate in it. Something that asks rather than demands.

"If you trust me," I say quietly, "then take my counsel: leave here. Ascend and be free while you still can."

Dante nods. Soft fog slips through lush fir trees and curls around wild lilac blossoms clinging to the mountainside. We'll reach the summit in moments. I've never fully understood how this mountain works, but when a soul is ready, one need only walk upon it for minutes before arriving at the light.

"Virgil." His voice is steady. Certain. "I want you to come with me."