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The walls were tall, the ceiling curved. Soft flames licked at walls of blackened stone, but the glow from those fires didn’t go very far. The air was cold, and oppressive, and though I was alone I thought I could hear a very faint hum as if from a choir.
I had to silence the instinct to call out. I knew my voice would carry, and I didn’t want to alert anyone to my presence. Though if Lucifer had sent me here then it was entirely likely that anyone who needed to know I was here already knew.
The hallway ahead of me was long, and deep. There were no windows to the outside, no way for me to know where I was or even what time of the day it was. Behind me, an ornate door barred the way out. I raced to it, tried the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge.
I shoved at it with my shoulder, trying my best to hit it with intent while also not making much noise.
No good.
There was only one way through here, and that path lay ahead. So, I walked down the long, dark corridor, my footsteps echoing ahead of me, and as I walked, I slowly realized that all of this was familiar.
I had been here before.
At least, I had been somewhere that looked like this.
The dark walls, the firelight, the lack of illumination; there was only one other place on Earth I had been to before that shared this place’s likeness, and that was the Ebon Legion’s bastion. Abaddon’s bastion. It too was dark, and drab, and very sparsely decorated. Abaddon—the Tyrant, as he was known as then—didn’t believe in frivolities and luxuries—everything had to have a purpose, or it had to go.
Why had Lucifer done this? Why had he brought me here? After everything he’d just said about the two of us, about how I cared too much for Abaddon and how we only slowed each other down. Why bring me to him?
The hallway seemed endless. Chthonic. Like a hallway between two long forgotten tombs only visited by the poor bastard who had to walk around lighting the sconces.
Finally, I saw it. There was a door at the end of the hallway, and from beyond that doorway came a sliver of light just faint enough to tell me it was ajar. I hurried towards the door, my legs carrying me as fast as they could carry me, my arms pumping, my lungs burning.
When I reached the door, I didn’t slow down. I barged through it, spilling into the chamber beyond with a loud thud that would’ve alerted everybody in this place of my presence.
The chamber I was in was enormous. Cavernous. Huge columns jutted out of the ground and climbed easily a hundred feet into the air, where they met at the base of a dome into which a single, small skylight had been placed.
That skylight allowed a single beam of soft moonlight to fall upon a throne that sat upon a raised dais. The throne looked like it was made of obsidian with a tall back and plush, dark, velvet cushions set into it. But it wasn’t the throne that called my attention. Neither did the multitudes of people gathered around the chamber; people wearing robes, and hoods, and humming some kind of sad dirge.
What had made my breath catch in my throat wasn’t any of that; it was the angel sitting on the throne.
Abaddon.
He lounged upon the throne, shirtless as ever, wearing a pair of black pants, boots, and gauntlets. His head was low, his eyes had a reddish glow about them, and out of his head emerged huge, slightly curved horns that rose up and over his head, following the curve of his skull but then tipping up towards the sky at their peaks.
The sight of him took my breath away. I had seen him in Hell. I had seen the horns, I had seen the marks on his body, but it wasn’t until now that I had felt the power that oozed from him.
Power that left me rooted to the spot.
I felt small, suddenly. Not like one of God’s own Lightbringers at all, but like a child staring into the mouth of a hungry wolf. The humming grew louder, and more forceful as the seconds passed. When Abaddon raised his eyes to look at me, the humming reached a peak. It held there for a moment just past the point of comfort, then Abaddon flicked his wrist, and the humming stopped allowing a heavy silence to take its place.
Abaddon took a deep breath in through the nose and then exhaled, his chest rising and falling against the moonlight falling on him from above.
Just bring her back.
I opened my mouth to speak, but it was Abaddon who spoke first, his voice a deep growl to fill the chamber.
“You should not have come here,” he said.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I said. “Lucifer sent me here.”
Abaddon tipped his chin up slightly. “To kill me?”
“To… kill you? Why would I want to kill you?”
“The Morningstar does not suffer weakness. He sends yet another disguised pawn before the King of the Ashes to determine the sharpness of his sword, the strength of his resolve.”
Ice ran through my veins. “King of the… is that what you call yourself now?” I said.
