I staggered, my boots scraping across glass-smooth obsidian.
The air reeked of brimstone and iron, and the faint hum of tortured souls echoed like a song under her skin.
Before I stretched the heart of the Abyss: a sprawling city of bone towers and molten rivers, crowned by the monstrous silhouette of the Palace of Shadows.
Its walls pulsed faintly, as if conscious of the crimson light running through every arch like veins.
I had dreamed of this place as a child, half in awe, half in fear but standing before it now, made my chest tighten with uncertainty.
The palace wasn't built for beauty or peace; it was built for dominance. Every shadow bent toward it. Every whisper bowed.
My satchel, small and worn, felt pitifully fragile against the grandeur surrounding me.
I adjusted it, exhaling slowly. The others had already gone inside, leaving me to face the palace alone.
As I crossed the bridge of bones leading to the gates, a chorus of laughter drifted from the courtyard.
A group of Nephilim maidens leaned against the carved pillars, their horns polished and wings cloaked in silk. They were beautiful in a cruel way, eyes bright, smiles sharp, voluptuous and dressed lewdly.
"That's her," one whispered, the sound slicing through the air like a blade.
"Serath's pick."
"Pretty enough to make a demon kneel."
One said.
"Or to make him kill her for sport."
The other added with a sarcastic giggle that almost echoed.
The words followed me like smoke. I kept her head high, even as the weight of envy prickled against her back. Every step felt like an act of defiance.
Inside, the palace was worse. The ceiling stretched so high that it disappeared into a haze of red mist and soot.
The walls glittered with embedded souls and skulls, faces twisted mid-scream, their glow casting faint illumination. My reflection ghosted across their surfaces, pale and breakable.
I moved cautiously, unsure where to go, afraid to step wrongly, for in places like this almost every territory had been dominated.
Every corridor branched into another, every staircase spiraled endlessly. The air vibrated with power and heat. Then I rounded a corner and nearly collided with someone.
The figure towered above her a sub-demon, skin the color of ash and horns tipped with gold. His orange eyes burned faintly as he glared down at her.
"Watch it," he snapped, then paused. His gaze sharpened. "You're not from this ring."
"I was sent by Lady Serath," I replied, straightening my posture. "One of the chosen."
At that name, the demon's expression faltered. Respect warred with caution. "Ah. Serath's pet. That explains the glow." His gaze slid briefly downward, lingering just long enough to make my pulse quicken.
Then, with a forced smirk, he turned away. "Follow me. You're in the wrong hall."
I followed, keeping my distance. The hallways twisted like veins, each lit by torches that bled blue fire.
The deeper they went, the thicker the air became almost syrupy with magic.
We entered a circular chamber filled with floating crystals that pulsed like beating hearts.
The room buzzed with voices: demons shouting orders, scribes etching contracts, and faint echoes of tortured laughter.
At a black stone desk sat a demoness with shredded wings and green eyes sharp enough to cut through lies. She didn't look up when we approached.
"Another one?" she muttered, scratching a quill across parchment. "Who are you? Halfling."
"Shaoline."
The clerk repeated it, the parchment swallowing the word. "Assigned by?"
"Lady Serath."
That made me pause. Slowly, the clerk raised her head, studying Shaoline with a predator's curiosity. "Serath's chosen?" She smirked. "Then you're either blessed or doomed. Her selections burn bright and burn fast."
"I'm not easily broken," Shaoline said quietly.
A flicker of amusement crossed the demoness's lips. "We'll see." She stamped a rune onto the air, sealing Shaoline's registration. "Holding Wing, Chamber B-13. Report immediately. And… a word of advice?"
"Yes?" I was almost eager.
"Don't stare at anyone too long. Around here, that's an invitation."
A demon gestured for me to follow again.
"This way."
We descended a spiral staircase, the walls whispering as we passed. The whispers were voices, names, bargains, screams , agreements all layered beneath the surface.
I shivered, it felt freezing cold and smelt like fresh ice. I could see vapor escape my mouth as I exhaled. Goosebumps, stirred by the temperature planted themselves on my skin.
I held myself together and tried to understand what would happen next.
"Do you guide every recruit this way?" I asked, mostly to drown the voices out.
"Only the ones who look like they'll get eaten before lunch," he replied dryly.
"I'll manage."
He glanced over his shoulder. "They all say that."
"Hey, and Thanks for guiding me"
"I don't like being thanked!"
His reply was harsh and mean.
I later got to know his name was Bruthlin anyways.
At the base of the staircase stood two massive doors carved with sigils that glowed faintly. The air was cold enough to sting.
"This is your stop," he said. "Beyond here are the instructors. Once you step through, you belong to them."
I hesitated. "Belong?"
He smiled, teeth sharp. "In the Abyss, everything belongs to someone. Even hope."
Before I could answer, he vanished into the shadow.
I faced the doors. My reflection stared back from the black surface, confused, trembling, but with fire in her eyes.
I pressed her palm against the rune. The doors opened with a groan that sounded like a human wail.
Inside, the chamber glowed with scarlet light. Dozens of Nephilim sat in circles, some murmuring prayers, others whispering plans
. In the center stood a demoness with wings like molten steel, tall, regal, and terrifyingly beautiful. Her gaze moved across the room, assessing each soul as if measuring their worth.
The murmurs died when I entered.
The demoness tilted her head. "You're late." Her voice was calm, but power rippled beneath it. "Name again?"
"Shaoline."
Recognition sparked. "Serath's jewel," she said softly, then smiled, a slow, dangerous smile that promised neither kindness nor cruelty, only interest. "The rumors were true. She sent us a bright one."
The room filled with whispers. Some admiring. Some mocking. Others enving.
I met the demoness's gaze without flinching. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, but I refused to look away.
"Since you seem eager," the demoness continued, "you'll lead the second group when we move to the upper rings. Do not fail. We're sending you to the mortal plane soon and I'd hate to replace you before the fun begins.You're trainer would be with you shortly"
I bowed her head slightly. "Understood."
"Good." The demoness's wings flared once, scattering sparks across the floor. "Now take your place. The Abyss watches its own."
I moved among the others, sitting cross-legged in the far corner. My mind was a storm of thoughts, Naretha's warning, the demon's leer, the whispers of envy, the name Serath echoing like a curse.
For a moment, I let my eyes close.
If I am to survive here, I thought, I must learn to make monsters fear me.
When I opened them again, the glow of the torches reflected in my pupils, bright, defiant, and unbroken.
And for the first time since I'd arrived, the Abyss seemed to pause and watch me back.