Page 45 of Unholy Fate

With a heavy sigh, I pushed away and strode over to the middle of the room. If I was going to be stuck here, I might as well get comfortable. I hopped up onto the slab and stretched out, ignoring the way the ancient stone seemed to leech the heat from my skin.

Nothing to do now but wait for Lucifer’s return. And when he did, there’d be brutal punishment for Aziz, for Levi, and probably for me, too. The stillness crept in, heavy and suffocating. I wasn’t used to this kind of silence. Up on Earth, there was always noise, always distractions. Corrupting humans took energy, focus. Down here, trapped in the damp chamber,the silence was broken only by the occasional, mournful creak of the rusty chains, each groan echoing in the oppressive quiet.

I shifted on the hard surface, the rough stone scraping against my flesh. My attention wandered, the room around me fading into the background. Images flickered through my mind, hazy at first, then growing clearer.

A strange sensation, like falling backward into a bottomless pit, pulled me down into the depths of my own subconscious. A dizzying, disorienting plunge. The cool, smooth stone where I lay in Lucifer’s torture chamber receded, leaving only the oppressive, heavy darkness of a forgotten place. Cold, damp, ancient.

I found myself broken and bound to the harsh, jagged walls of a cavern. Each rasping breath brought the acrid bite of sulfur, the suffocating darkness pressing against me, heavy as a shroud. Lighted sigils, burning with a cruel, searing heat, adorned the chains that bound me, their power constricting my own. The groans of my imprisoned brothers echoed around me. Then silenced when footsteps reverberated through the cavern. Muscles screaming, I strained to lift my head, the chains biting into my skin, to see who approached.

A being stood before us, his eyes cold and unyielding. Cronus. With a sudden clarity, the blurry mystification of the place sharpened into precise recognition. Tartarus.

“You dared defy the gods!” Cronus roared, the sound shaking the very ground beneath our feet like a boom of thunder.

Rage boiled within me, searing away the pain and exhaustion. I struggled against the shackles, the sigils flaring to life, sending waves of agony through my body. But I hardly noticedit. All I registered was the fury, the unbridled hatred for the being who had imprisoned us.

“We are eternal,” I heard myself roar, raw and ragged. “You cannot contain us forever.”

Cronus leered at me hungrily, raising his hand. The sigils on my chains flared brighter, the pain intensifying until it consumed every fiber of my being. I screamed, my body convulsing against the jagged stone.

“Forever is exactly how long I plan to keep you here,” Cronus said, his voice cutting through the pain.

I jolted awake, my chest heaving, the dream’s horrors faded. The walls and empty chains in the torture chamber swam into focus, a jarring shift from the vivid nightmare of Tartarus. I ran a trembling hand through my hair, trying to steady myself.

What the fuck was that? The flashback had felt too real, too visceral to be a mere dream. I could still feel the bite of the chains, the searing pain of the sigils. It was as if, for a moment, I had been back there, reliving that endless torment.

I leaned against the stone. The memory of Tartarus lingered like a shadow, an unshakable reminder of the extent of the suffering I had endured. And yet, there was something more, a nagging sense that those ancient chains still held some power over me, even now.

I let out a long, weary sigh, resigned to the endless wait. A thick, hot air, heavy with the smell of brimstone and the stench of decay, hung in Hell, failing to ease the bone-chilling dread as I awaited Lucifer’s return and his judgment. But even that couldn’t shake the echoes of Tartarus, a constant, suffocatingshadow in my head, a chorus of screams and despair playing on repeat.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EVELYN

The quiet ofthe room was punctuated only by the rhythmic tick-tock of the antique clock, its brass face gleaming faintly in the dim light, sitting between rows of self-help books on the bookshelves that lined the pale beige walls. A green potted plant sat lonely in the corner, its leaves a vibrant splash of green against the beige.

A familiar place, a dream I remembered.

Alone in the hushed quiet, I relaxed into the butter-soft leather sofa, when a shift in the dark corner of the room, a flicker of movement caught my attention.

From the shadows, Ian materialized opposite me, sitting in his armchair, reclining casually with his legs crossed at the ankles. Dark hair fell across his brow, partially shadowing his pale, androgynous features. Dressed in dark ripped jeans and a black t-shirt that clung to his muscular chest, his studded belt buckle glinting, he was temptation personified.

A jolt of recognition shot through me. “You,” I stated sharply, “I know you.”

Ian gestured toward the couch I was sitting on. “Good. It’s nice to be remembered.”

I folded my arms, glaring at him, the temper seething in my chest as I spat out, “How could I forget? You’re one of the reasons my life is falling apart.”

Clasping his hands in front of him, he leaned forward. “Falling apart? Or waking up?”

My body tensed, every muscle screaming as I leaned forward, “You’re not even real,” I hissed, the accusation sharp as glass. “You’re just some figment of my imagination, right? Or a nightmare?”

Ian’s face became still, his brown eyes burning with a strange light, bore into mine with a disquieting intensity. “Oh, I’m very real, Evelyn. More real than you’d like to admit.”

I stared back, my reflection in his steadfast gaze, a silent challenge that sent my heart racing. “Whatare you?”

Casually, without a care, he leaned back. “I’m a demon, duh. But you already know that. What you don’t know is that I’ve been locked up, physically confined to Hell. Your charming friends Aziz and Levi saw to that.”

“Then how are you here now?”

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