Page 2 of Ashes to Ashes

“Good girl,” he purred, running a finger over one of the welts and painting something in the blood on Ashe’s back. “You’re learning.”

Ashe fought back a wave of nausea and bile at his touch. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off his face. Even if he’d donned the most handsome face to torment her.

“You’ll never break me,” she whispered hoarsely.

Belial laughed again and turned away from Ashe. “We’ll see about that. You didn’t make this deal for yourself, which means you’re not as strong as those who do.”

He walked out of the room without another word, leaving Ashe alone with only the sound of her own ragged breathing echoing off the walls.

Ashe let out a deep sigh and collapsed onto the floor. She curled into a ball, holding herself tightly and trying to push away the memories of the torture she had just endured.

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She wasn’tcertain how long it took her to get back to the small space that she considered her room. But when she did, Ashe didn’t make it to the bed. She couldn’t lift herself because Belial did not heal her this time. Instead, Ashe lay on the damp floor, her back stinging with each inhale and exhale. Slowly, she raised her hand to her neck, fingers brushing the thin gold chain. The last memento of her mother.

The memory of her mother’s somber face, framed by wispy red curls and a trembling lip, flooded Ashe’s mind. She pressed her fingers against the small gold ring hanging from a delicate chain around her neck.

It was a simple band with intricate engravings passed down through generations in their family. Her mother had given it to her on the night before she’d left this life.

‘This will keep you safe,’ her mother had whispered, placing it gently over her head. ‘It will always bring you back to me.’

That time can’t come soon enough, Ashe thought bitterly. The ring was her only connection to her past life, to a time before the demon realm and the promise of endless servitude. She clung to the memories like a lifeline, fueling her determination to escape.

Ashe knew her mother would be proud of her strength, of her resilience in the face of such adversity. But she also knew her mother never intended for her to live this way. She wouldn’t have sold Ashe into slavery.

For years after her death, Ashe treasured that ring and held onto it like a lifeline as if it could bring her mother back, or even her father, who vanished into the night and never came back.

Ashe let out a pained sigh and slowly sat up, wincing as fresh bolts of pain shot through her body. Wrapping an arm around herself, she tried to steady her breathing. She needed to distract herself from the pain and fear that threatened to consume her every moment in this hellish place.

She stood up on shaky legs and walked over to one wall where a single window no bigger than her palm looked out into nothingness. The only light that entered was a dull glow coming from somewhere outside.

Ashe moved closer and placed a hand against the glass, praying that maybe someone would see her hand and save her. But all she could sense were shadows and an eerie emptiness that seemed to leech into every corner of this place. No one was coming to save her, because no one knew where she was except the bitch who somehow sold her to hell.

Ashe’s thoughts drifted back to the day it all began, the day her life was stolen from her. Her stepmother’s cold, calculating blue eyes filled her mind, her words like poison in her ear. ‘The debt must be paid,’ she had said, ‘and you are the only currency I have, worthless as you are, you’ll pay my debt to the demon.’

Anger and betrayal coiled in her stomach, but Ashe pushed it down. She couldn’t afford to lose control now, not when she was so close to finding a weakness in Belial’s impenetrable fortress.

Once the first week had passed, Ashe focused on nothing save for escaping and sending her bitch of a stepmother down here in Ashe’s place. She lay on her pallet, memorizing the layout of the stronghold, the guards’ patrols, and any possible escape routes. Her mind became a map, etching each detail into her memory.

Days blurred together, the passage of time marked by the slow decay of the world around her. As the demonic energies seeped into her bones, Ashe felt herself slipping away, becoming something darker, twisted by her hatred.

But she clung to the ring, to the memory of her mother’s love, and the promise of escape.

And revenge.

With every beat of her heart, Ashe vowed to find a way back to the mortal realm. Her life was a mess there as well, but she was free. The ring glowed softly against her palm, as if in response, a flickering beacon of hope in the inky blackness that had become her world.

CHAPTER 2

High above the smoldering pits of the Terra Daemoniums, Leviathan, Demon Prince of Envy, stood on the balcony of his obsidian tower. His palace’s sharp features, carved by the hand of infernal craftsmanship, cut through the perpetual tormented breeze. His short, raven hair was unmoved by the wind as he stared down at his minions below. They scuttled about like ants, laboring to appease their masters’ whims.

His whims.

Every pair of eyes in the teeming mass of lost souls was transfixed on him, hanging on every word that he would speak. Yet, as he basked in their adoration, Leviathan’s piercing blue eyes burned with a hunger that not even the admiration of countless souls could quench.

“My dear citizens,” he began, his voice dripping with honeyed malice. “Look at you all, crawling at my feet, desperate for my approval. It both pleases and disgusts me.”

His words were met with a chorus of moans and whimpering pleas for forgiveness. But Leviathan paid them no mind as he continued to speak.

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