Page 2 of Unholy Fate

I looked around the pristine lobby, marveling at the intricate details—the swirls of gold within the marble, the vivid colors of the perfect fruit artfully arranged in baskets. Turning to the angelic figure beside me, I couldn’t contain my curiosity any longer.

“So, what now? Is this heaven? Do I just check in and then I can see everyone?” The words tumbled out, tinged with hope and wonder.

The angel chuckled, a strange undercurrent in his laughter that made me pause. I studied his perfect features, trying to decipher the enigmatic glint in his eyes.

“Are you...an archangel?” I said, awe creeping into my words. “The power emanating from you is incredible.”

His grin widened, a mixture of satisfaction and something darker that I couldn’t quite place. “Why yes, I am. You’re quite perceptive, James.”

Relief washed over me, and I exhaled a breath. “I can’t believe it’s true. With honest repentance, any sin can be forgiven. It’sreallytrue. God does love me. He loves all of us.”

The angel’s features turned malicious, a twisted sort of compassion contorting his beautiful face.

“Well, actually...” He trailed off, motioning behind me with a casual flick of his wrist.

I turned just in time to witness the back wall dissolve. The elegant decor melted away, replaced by a searing expanse of flames and brimstone.

The heat slammed into me like a physical force, stealing the air from my lungs. Scorching winds whipped around my body, as if I were trapped in the center of an infernal vortex. The stench of burning flesh assaulted my nostrils, reminiscent of roasting pork.

Terror seized my chest as the realization crashed in on me. This was no heavenly paradise. It had all been a trick, an illusion. I’d been deceived, lured into a trap more sinister than I could have ever imagined.

I whirled back to face the angel, desperate for an explanation, but the sight that greeted me made my blood run cold. Gone was the ethereal being in flowing robes. In his place towered a creature, at least seven feet tall, clad in an impeccable black suit. His skin was a deep crimson, textured like snakeskin, and twisted horns protruded from his forehead, arching toward the jagged black stone ceiling that had replaced the white marble.

The woman at the desk had vanished, leaving me alone with this nightmarish entity. Wickedness seeped into his face and his lips lifted eerily, revealing razor-sharp teeth.

“Hello, my son. I’m Lucifer,” he said in a deep, mocking rumble. “Welcome to Hell. We’ve been expecting you.”

CHAPTER TWO

LUCIFER

Smiling warmly at James,I said, “Do you know that before a soul is sent to my domain, I am given every detail about the deeds that condemned them here?”

James shrank back, almost cringing, as I waved my hand, conjuring a long, ancient-looking scroll. Its ivory surface etched with symbols that seemed to writhe and burn, exactly what one might expect from hell. Appearances, after all, are everything.

Skimming the endless list of James’ sins, I noted petty transgressions, such as sneaking candy as a child, skipping school as a teen, and cheating on his taxes as an adult. Further down were more egregious but still typical offenses like embezzling from his company, verbally abusing his wife, and coveting his neighbor’s spouse.

But one entry halfway through the scroll brought a cruel twist to my mouth. “Molested niece for 16 years,” it read, the ink seeming to pulse with malevolence. James trembled as I slowly turned to him, scroll in hand. The terror I saw in his face gave me a deep, almost sexual, pleasure, as it always did.

Placing a hand on James’ shoulder, I spoke in a smooth tone. “It seems this is where you really damned yourself, James. Defiling an innocent child who belonged to me.” Leaning in close until our faces nearly touched. “I’m afraid I’ll have to make quite an example of you.”

As James dissolved into anguished sobs, a thrill of sadistic glee welled up inside me. With a casual flick of my wrist, I transported us instantly to the cold, dank dungeon cell that would be James’ new eternal home.

At the sight of it, a yellow stain appeared on the front of James’ trousers. Heavy iron shackles snapped shut around his wrists and ankles with a satisfying clang. The metal bit deep, and blood oozed from where they secured him, his hands already turning purple. James screamed, the first of what would bemanyof the next uncounted millennia.

Surveying the bare stone walls and floor already slick with piss, I said aloud, “Don’t fret, James, I’ll be back to begin your torments soon. I’ve already devised such exquisite agonies to inflict upon you that your suffering shall be legendary in the annals of Hell. I have such delicious sights to show you.” My diabolical laughter echoed through the cell as I took my leave.

The echoes of his shrieks followed me as I strolled through the tunnel of crimson stone. The smell of pain and blood and shit hung in the stifling air, and I inhaled deeply.

It had been too long since I’d taken a personal hand in a soul’s damnation. It invigorated me, reminding me of why I’d become the King of Hell in the first place. Emerging from the stygian depths, I stepped onto the banks of the Lake of Fire. Each black fleck on the ground was a shard of obsidian, ready to stab andtear unprotected flesh. Taking the damned on a run through here was always entertaining.

Within a few minutes, the foreboding edifice of my lair loomed before me.

As I strode through the crimson and ebony halls of my infernal palace, demons and the damned alike prostrated themselves in my wake. Their pitiful wails and pleas for mercy echoed, unanswered, a grim symphony. I reveled in the sights and sounds, whistling a happy tune. It was good to be me.

CHAPTER THREE

AZIZ

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