Page 36 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

“Whoa.” Wally adjusted the glasses meant to help alleviate the strain he had on taking in the sights of Hell. Thankfully, Diabolics didn’t have much understanding of where mortal parts began and ended, so they likely assumed the lens was merely an extension to the eyeball. “It’s so pretty.”

We walked a trail leading out of the stadium. It led us into the heart of a lush field of plants, trees with bright and vibrant barks reflecting the false sunset projected nearby. Lilith’s many filters cloaked the intricate layers of her deadly dimension, cloaking it with an aesthetic meant to lure guests. I couldn’t see beyondthe three-dimensional design she offered, but I trusted nothing. Wally, on the other hand, found himself entranced by the splendor and beauty put on display. This design emulated the parts of the Diabolic Oasis Wally loved most, having a fondness for the exotic plant life that grew alongside Mora’s expanding city.

Clear evidence that Lilith had spies observing Wally’s interests prior to the buffoon she sent to deliver our invitation.

“Hell’s not all bad.” Wally brushed his fingers along the pedals of several different flowers. “Fields of plants with several extinct species, guessing to highlight some of our natural beauty.”

“You give Hell too much credit,” I said. “It’s all part of your mortal theme.”

“It’s nice. You think they imported some of these, same with the human hosts?” Wally chose to delude himself with grand hopes that those human host bodies would be treated with similar kindness as Mora exhibited to those she possessed. “Obviously, some of it’s magic. I mean, unless they did like hybrid cloning for the extinct flora, but that’d require—”

“It’s just essence that’s been spruced up.”

“Wait, what?”

“Diabolic essence.” I gestured to the grand field of flowers. “My guess, by the size of it, a few hundred demons shredded and reshaped. Well, there’s also the stadium.”

“Wait.” Wally’s eyes bugged out. “The stadium was made of demons?”

“Oh, yeah. A few thousand at least.” I shrugged playfully. “Probably why the stands were so empty.”

“That’s awful.”

“It’s a joke.” I laughed. “Because the audience would’ve been slaughtered and shredded and seamlessly reshaped into all ofthis. If there was ever an audience. Probably just some lesser, forgettable Diabolics.”

Wally’s expression turned queasy, which was a good indication the reality of this horror show sank in fully. “Wow, that’s disturbing.”

“Well, it’s not funny if you have to explain it.” I ignored his internalized turmoil because he needed to reflect on this while seeing me maintain a light-heartedness to the dire situation we stepped through.

Wally’s hand retreated from the flower like it’d somehow snap its pedals around his fingers and devour them.

It wouldn’t. The Diabolics used to paint the walls of Hell rarely kept sentience. The few centuries I spent with my essence spilled out to create a diamond-floored entryway were a blur of nonsense. There was an occasional flicker or flash of footsteps from that time, but otherwise, simple silence. And pain. Constant agonizing pain with no understanding of the purpose. The duration. The existence of nothing else.

“They’re fine,” I said. “Life as a flower is a pretty easy existence.”

“I guess.” Wally sulked. “Just seems kind of sad.”

“It’s only sad if you dwell on it.” I shrugged. “Like most things.”

“Are there animals?” Wally searched the fields, his pupils dilating then tightening to view the many intricate layers of plant life stretched for miles upon miles.

“No. Plants are already too lively,” I answered. “Personally, I think devils simply enjoy the stillness in their beauty.”

“So, no animals?” Wally asked. “Not even insects?”

“Thinking of yours?”

“Tony’s an arachnid, not an insect.”

“In either case, an animal—a beast of any level—would require a level of sentience not afforded to the essence of any particular demon when divided and reshaped in such ways.”

“Is everything here just Diabolics in one form or another?” He kicked the dirt at our feet. “Essence?”

“Yep.” Hell itself was the soul of a devil, their greatest organ, and as such, it fueled their infinite power to layer their realm with the essence of their creations.

“The air we’re breathing?”

“We’re not breathing.” I widened my eyes to clue him in on the obvious secret that he’d stopped breathing.

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