Page 1 of Living Legend

Chapter One

DANI

Blood.

It was the only dramatically consistent smell down there; that and sweat. They were so incredibly strong, I hardly registered them anymore. There were a few other, less potent odors that lingered for short periods of time, but nothing like the pungent scent of sweat and blood.

Helplessness was a common one, fear another. The newest souls were steeped in fear, but eventually, it started to mold into something else. It contorted itself into something I could never place, a mix of agony and soul-crushing longing for death that never comes. I was their jailer, their torturer, theirmisery. I provided the constant pain for others to gawk at, like animals on display, and I thrived off it.

Purgatory. That’s where I resided, where I was beloved and envied by so many. I had the occasional memories, tiny snippets of a time before Purgatory, but nothing to deeply hold onto, nothing I could piece together to make anything close to a concrete past.

A high-pitched shriek brought me out of my thoughts, enough to make me press my hand against the red stone wall. I was still here, in thisplace.

The place with blood-stained walls and floors, with creaks and moans that came from nowhere and everywhere at once.

The place I called home.

A weathered, gray stone door between two towering columns stood in front of me. Handles shaped like serpents hissed as I approached. It was a soothing sound; one I’d grown accustomed to throughout time. Another shriek followed by a whimper hit my ears again. It was pure music – no, puremagic. My blood boiled as I inched closer to the door, wrapping my hand around the snakehead to pull it open.

The humidity hit me first, hot and molten. The scuffling of feet and excited shrieks caught my attention next. I knew the noise came from the risers along the back of the torture chamber. Torture arena was probably a better name. Demons got there early to get as close as possible, sometimes leaning over the dividers just to possibly catch a drop of blood. The risers practically spat dust when anyone touched them, but they held up, even with all the commotion. Brimstone shards and what looked like sand littered the floor. I felt sweat start to prickle on the back of my neck from the fires burning in their holders along the walls. I could taste the thick heat, but even more, I could smell the pain. I couldtasteit, the unbridled desire to surrender to death but never getting the chance. I let my nose guide me to where the feelings felt strongest.

My prey looked older than middle aged. His eyes were covered with thick black cotton, tied over thin blonde hair peppered with gray. His skin was ashen, almost ghost-like.Typical. He was nothing special. I didn’t ask many questions about the dead brought down for me to poke and prod; it seemed pointless when I only wanted to hear pleas for mercy riddled with agony. Blood trickled down his arms, his knees, his temples, even his belly button. His clothes were torn, soiled with sweat and something brown I was sure to all Hell wasn’t dirt. I lifted an eyebrow, surveying the scene when the sound of steel-toed boots stopped next to me.

“We loosened him up for you,” Elise smirked.

I let my eyes slide to her gray ones. “Seems like you did more than that.”

She let out a sharp, echoing laugh, her silky black hair swaying around her neck. “I only made one small cut with a dull blade. The other little shits wanted their fun; blame them.” Elise motioned towards the lesser demons.

Lesser demons came in various shapes and sizes, some with the stereotypical horns and tails, some with skin that perpetually bled, others with hoofed feet. Most were demons forged in Hell by Lucifer himself, sent here for Lilith’s amusement.

Lilith owned this realm, hers to do with as she pleased. She’d filled me with power and a blood lust that wouldn’t quit when I arrived. She hardly ever looked at me anymore, but I was still the favorite.

The bloody thirsty looks on their faces proved they weren’t satisfied. Elise shrugged. “They wanted to impress you, the attention seeking little fucks.”

Elise had been my friend since I first woke up here. Well, friend may be a loose term, on her end at least. I’d used the phrase‘friendship’one time and had gotten a disgruntled sound back, so I’d buried the need for a friendly tether and settled for a benevolent alliance. We’d made an art form out of continuous torture, always with an audience to marvel at our masterpieces. Throughout the years, I’d become smoother with a blade, more demanding with a dagger, more in control of my power to create the loudest crack of bone, the hardest crunch of a nose. At some point, Elise had gifted me her respect and her allegiance. I became, as she reminded me, a ‘lethal idol for the lowly fucking demons in this god-forsaken place’.

I turned to face her, but she knew what I wanted before I could ask. Her long fingers intertwined around the leather hilt of a small blade -- small, about the length of my forearm, but sharp, gleaming in the firelight. The weapon had razor-like slits in the middle and a tip that curved up to a precise point, making it easier to yank souls and innards out of bodies. I’d learned small cuts, minuscule slices, could bleed for hours, but those cuts wouldn’t kill. Time and pure patience were the sick enemy of anyone in my chair.

“Be a fucking boss.” Elise let the blade slip from her fingers and fall gracefully into mine. It carried a weight only someone bonded with it would be able to comprehend. It was the weapon I always started with and the weapon I always ended with.

My name was engraved on one side of the blade—DANI. I ran my fingers over the deep grooves of the letters, feeling my skin warm. I could feel passion filtering through my veins. My fingers gripped the hilt, each digit snapping into place next to another.

I made the soul of my prey rage and boil before using the curved tip of my dagger to pull it out and tear it to shreds. Souls weren’t pure mist or clouds; they were living and breathing. As much as angels hated to admit it, demons had souls too, some deep inside and covered in shadows, others with purpose, with discipline and strength. I was told I had a mixture of both, but I leaned towards the latter. The extraction of souls, the mutilation of them, had grown to be my salvation.

Elise moved to the man in the middle of the room, bound to a leather chair. She circled behind him, leaning her head on his shoulder. I turned to give her a terse nod, and she untied the knot at the back of his head, whispering something in his ear as she went.

He was terrified.

I was more than ready to proceed. He was already so pale, but as he assessed the room, he turned ash white. “Please, let me go!”

I could feel the crowd, the lesser demons around the perimeter, watching to see what I’d do next. I smiled, licking my lips, and took my time, letting the seconds tick by with every slow stride forward. Once in front of him, I bent down, resting my hands on the arms of the chair, wet with what I assumed was his sweat. I let my blade pierce the material, digging in with a harsh rip. I smirked, watching him shake his head, pleading with widened eyes. He was no different from all the others I’d played with. He reminded me of my first ever victim. Every new soul made the oldest one fade away; to give them a second thought would be to show weakness.Weaknesswas something I couldn’t afford.

Still, you never forget your first.

“You don’t have to do this. I’ll go back to my cell. I can do hard labor! An eternity of work I could endure, I swear,” he begged, his voice cracking with fear.

“Back to your cell?” I stopped him before he could ask again.

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