Page 2 of Lake of Sin

And the world changed.

Shadow fell over the land. More than shadow—a darkness so dense I could see nothing. Then, flashing out from the fog, a clawed red hand shot toward me.

I couldn’t move. Fingers clutched around my neck and hauled me up. Instantly, all the pressure clogged in my throat, and with my trachea crushed, no air could get in. I thrashed. I kicked weakly at nothing, and no face resolved from the shadows, no more of the body. I knew Asmodeus was enraged with me. It ruled this plane, and I had overstepped.

“You little cretin. You whore. You, who I plucked from inconsequence to lead to bodily glory!”

Its voice boomed thunderous. Sound crowded into my ears, a stench of sulphur into my nostrils. What little air I could get down, I gagged on.

“You defy me now? So close to the end, to your prize? You have already given me your soul; if your body is not mine, then you are worthless!”

But that wasn’t what I had meant at all. I struggled to speak. All that came out was, “To be…better!”

An outraged scoff. A chime sounded somewhere, and discordant trumpets, and I remembered Asmodeus had been an angel, once: a grand design from God’s hand. “Better? Better!”

It released me, and I dropped. No ground rushed up to meet me. I fell and fell for a small eternity, and when I accepted the fall—the constant flip of my stomach, the rise of fear in my body—and recovered from the choking, I spoke again.

“A true servant of the flesh should know his own wants!”

Suddenly the ground was there. I landed and rolled, my poor body flinching from expected pain. The fog of darkness still enveloped me, but Asmodeus had not spoken again. So, I went onto my knees and tried again, this time with proper decorum.

“I propose that I am not fully a whore until I can beg for everything I want. I say that one of the demons I pleasured—”and I paused, reframing, “—that I experienced pleasurewith, showed me this. I am still a creature of shame. I wish not to be, before I come to you, my Lord.”

For a long time, there was no response. I braced myself for the possibility that this was my punishment. I was set to languish in the umbral dark for as long as Asmodeus wished. But then two red eyes blinked open in the dark, and Asmodeus was there with me.

“Lord.” I pushed myself fully into the ground. My heart raced, like my body could tell this was therealform of Asmodeus, not the watery shade I had managed to summon back in the abbey. “Your demons will tell you how loyal I am to you. I dedicate my life and my eternity to you. But I cannot fully be your creature if I do not know myself.”

The haze dissipated slowly, impenetrable black becoming a soft twilight. When it next spoke, Asmodeus’ voice had taken on a new, softer tone.

“You continue to surprise me, little blasphemer.”

I did not know if this was a compliment or a critique, and so I stayed unmoving in my bow.

“Younoware so very different to the man who summoned me.”

Something sharp pressed beneath my soft palate and I was forced to raise my head. A sharp nail bed against my flesh; I gulped as I looked into the porous red eyes of Asmodeus and found them full of interest. There was nothing else to see beyond its eyes, but they seduced me.

The fingers moved to clench my cheeks, nails digging hard against the soft flesh.Pop me, I thought.Leave a mark. Make me yours.

“Do what you must to free yourself from the shackles of your shame. Delight in pleasure. And if you lure my demons intotouching you how you wish to be touched, then you are even more alluring than I first expected.”

It felt. . .goodto hear that. I shivered with relief and glanced up. Though Asmodeus had not fully appeared before me, those red eyes stared at me.

And the devil winked.

2

When Asmodeus left with a little more than a heavy, lust-filled sigh, the darkness surrounding me lifted fully.

I was no longer sequestered on Furfur’s tiny island of stone and sea. The smoke of Asmodeus’ rage cleared, and I had been left on a hilltop overlooking a great stone structure.

It was circular and large, its walls high and the stone was a brushed white. Turrets sprouted from it at various intervals, and dozens of flags and ripped fabric waved in the wind.

The place looked awfully like something from Earth. The longer I looked, the more the structure resolved into the familiar, into something I could recognise.

A fort.

I walked carefully down the hillside to approach the structure, which was the only thing of note for miles and miles. A grey desert seeped into the distance, spreading from the back of the stone fort and creeping to the very edge of the horizon. But to the front of the fort and beneath this brown grassy hill was ground that would kill me. Lava split between black rock, oozing free, flames spitting and dancing above it. A single survivable path was raised above the licks of lava, made of onyx-blackstone. Weapons of unburning steel framed it, a line of jagged, interlocking spears, swords, and great sledgehammers providing cover for travellers approaching the fort.

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