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The Realm of Agonies
Shifted in the form of a common demon soldier, Rathbone led a chained and bloody Hades behind him. Sunlight shone all around, illuminating a thriving town square filled with torture chambers rentable by the hour, blood saloons, and houses of ill repute. Considering he was one of many carting a prisoner, he drew little attention despite his captive’s notoriety. Helped that most residents were busy tormenting souls of the damned.
Pit fires raged here and there, casting flickering shadows and creating a revolting spectacle. Poor, unfortunate humans hung on spits, roasting inside the merciless inferno while bloodthirsty crowds jeered and cackled with glee. From all sides, agonizing screams pierced the air, assaulting Rathbone’s ears. The acrid scent of smoldering spirits tainted the breeze, stinging his nostrils, nearly choking him with its bitterness.
From the sights, sounds, and smells, every aspect of the vile scene disgusted him. If he decided to be king of this realm, things would be different. Demons would be banished, and spirits would be liberated. To start.
“I think you’re enjoying your role of captor a little too much,” Hades said, his tone as dry as a desert.
“Just wanting to fit in with the locals,” he responded, trying not to grin. Hewasenjoying his role a little too much, despite his disgust for his current form. The urge to claw through the scaly hide remained a constant itch in the back of his brain.
“Well? Is this the Underworld realm for you or not?”
Good question. He’d come here to scout. Unlike the other realms he’d visited, he hadn’t rendered a decision in the first five minutes. The Realm of Horrors had been too cold, and the Realm of Falsities too dreary. But this...this he might like. Wide open spaces, warm breezes, and opulent structures. The buildings featured ornate gold finishes, glistening marble, and elaborate carvings. Especially the palace.
The colossal edifice perched atop a towering mountain peak, shimmering in the distance as though doused in starlight. A sight to behold, a beacon of radiance, and the picture of what had once been an unattainable dream. To claim this as his own, he must first eliminate its owner, King Styx.
Rathbone had never met the monarch, but rumors of his cruelty had spread far and wide. Once a merciful leader, he was said to have experienced a gradual metamorphosis, transforming into a ruthless tyrant for reasons unknown.
Killing him would be a pleasurable challenge. But... “I’m not sure,” he told his uncle. Seven other Underworld kingdoms remained, and he should probably inspect them all. What if he preferred another?
The territory he selected was to be his forever home. His first home, really. Something he’d spent countless hours fantasizing about during his years in Aweland, the realm his mother had stashed him in to hide him from her husband. There, he’d suffered untold heartbreaks, unending self-recriminations, and bone-deep loneliness. The memories he carried with him needed replacing. A happier counterpart, at the very least.
“Is that Hades, the King of the Dead?” a demon called before whistling. “How’d you bag and tag him?”
“Easily,” Rathbone returned without slowing his step, earning several guffaws.
“I might stab you in the genitals for that one,” Hades muttered for his ears alone.
“How much do you want for him?” another demon shouted from the throng now congregating in front of a guillotine.
“Bring me your head, and I’ll let you borrow him for an hour,” Rathbone responded.
In a blink, another demon whipped out a sword, cut off the speaker’s head, and raced Rathbone’s direction with the abomination in hand. Ah, disloyalty at its finest. An all too common trait among the species, and something he despised with every fiber of his being. One of the many reasons he loved Hades. Those the King of the Dead loved, he protected, always staying true to his word. An honor reserved for few, and a luxury Rathbone hadn’t experienced until meeting the other male.
“I meantyourhead,” he corrected.
Another demon hurried over to decapitate the one holding the severed skull.
“My bad, I meant your head,” he repeated, and the third demon died, too. The same process played out again and again, each demon dying before reaching him. “How long do you think this can go on?” he asked Hades between slayings.
“Not long enough. Looks like the fun is already slowing.”
Sure enough, the fools finally caught on. At least fifty sets of narrowed red gazes settled on him.
“You’re going to die for this,” someone hissed.
Let them come. He could stand to blow a little steam before sneaking through the palace to spy on Styx. Rathbone wished to know if other rumors were true. Could the king recover from decapitation? If so, killing him wouldn’t be easy. If Rathbone decided to do it, however, it would be done, regardless.
Of course, the male’s death wouldn’t end Rathbone’s association with him. When an Underworld royal died, his body liquefied, soaking into the ground, bubbling up and growing into a river. A constant reminder of what used to be.
A commotion drew Rathbone’s attention to the right. Soldiers and citizens jumped out of the path as a fury-crazed male wearing leather pants and a bejeweled crown dragged a bedraggled female at the end of a rope. Well, well. The infamous Styx in the flesh.
“Make way, make way,” a demon shouted, marching ahead of the pair.
Hades and Rathbone were forgotten as everyone focused on the sovereign. Rathbone used the opportunity to study a potential foe. Not as big as expected but impressive all the same. Assured of his power, he mowed down anyone foolish enough to be in his path.
“Come one, come all,” the announcer continued. “Watch our lord flog his once-favored concubine. Afterward, her organs will be served à la carte. Come one, come all.”
