By the time Mephisto and I was done, days had passed before he finally convinced me to create a memory fragment of what had happened, which didn't come cheap. I had no idea what the currency of Hell was, but I wanted a shit load of it. And souls, prime souls, not some bitch made ones.
"This might be the most expensive soul fragment in recorded history." Mephisto moaned, moping on his throne as he raised his head to me, a little disheartened. "You're a dick."
"Said the man who just threatened to kill me."
"Touché."
"I'm out," I said, turning my back. I left without another word. I'm sure Mephisto won't share any of his findings. However, the moment the door to Mephisto's chamber opened, the lovely Ishar stood waiting.
She glanced at the Fallen Guard on my left, and the chamber door closed. " Would you like a tour of Sylvorlum? I'm sure this is your first time in this realm."
" Only if you tell me what happened after I fainted," I replied. " I'm tired of talking to that trickster."
There was an icy sweet smile on Ishar's bloodstained lips as she touched her chin, her gaze filled with a preponderance that only seemed to amplify her hourglass figure. "You are Master's only disciple. That does mean something. Not to mention Zariel is here quite a bit."
"Really?"
"Yep. Zariel is always trying to one-up Master. There is a bit of a friendly rivalry between them. It usually ends up with them trying to kill one another." She told me, rolling her eyes in the process. Ishar turned, running her hands through stormy blood-red hair. "Come, you can stay in his room."
"His room? Mephisto actually gave him a room?" I questioned, hurrying after Ishar.
"Indeed. Those two have what you Mortal call a Bromance. It's odd. No matter how much they interact, despite all the madness that transpired, it seems silly to me. But they are friends. Odd friends. "
Rich laughter sprang from my lips as I couldn't help but imagine Mephisto's silly expression and Zariel's stoicism. Although, my little brother is a closeted idiot. So who knows? Maybe it works.
"Will I be seeing Amara?"
"Nope, she's on Iluthath with Lucifer." Said Ishar as we entered the outside onto an ice bridge showcasing a blazing winter storm of pain and despair. Snow glossed over my vision in a vibrant cascading frost that seemed unfathomable to describe. It was so breathtaking I felt my soul expand at the view.
"Do not be fooled by its beauty Sylvorlum is as cruel as any other hell. It's known as the Isle of Dispair for a reason," she added, pausing as I took everything in. Unable to help myself despite the overwhelming sense of melancholy dancing through the Hells, it felt like home. "We should head inside soon. You might have an adaptive body, but the moment the torment of Hell begins… You'll wish your adaptation died. Come, let's carry on."
Allowing the Maiden of Blood to lead, I couldn't help but marvel for the next few hours as she gave me a tour around Mephisto's castle, the size of a continent on earth. It was massive, taking dozens of days to address many things. But the most interesting thing here wasn't the dozen of Fallens chilling or the rare demons and devil types, but rather Ishar herself.
She was escaping.
I didn't catch it before, but this tour was her break. This young woman, while respected by everyone, was sleepwalking as she gave me a tour. No idea how that is possible, but she was pointing, talking, and more, with a sliver of drool hanging from her lips. She was totally knocked out: This was some next-level sleepwalking.
"God, I miss Lily. Where the Hell are you?"
Shaking my head, I gave Ishar one last glance and shadowed step out of her perception if that was possible and allowed her to sleep. I entered the Libary to help get a handle on the events that took place before and after my birth.
However, just as I emerged, my eyes shot open as I saw a familiar being pouting as he flipped through a book.
"Flama?" I shouted.
'Oh? Sup." He said, flipping his gaze back down to his book.
"Don't just sup me! Aren't you supposed to be with my sister?" I shouted, unable to get around the uncanny resemblance to King Yama. It was almost the spitting image.
"Shoo-Shoo!" He moaned, shooing me away with his hands.
My eyes twitched as I approached; looking at the book he was glossing through, they twitched once more.
"Is that… a romance novel?" I said, catching sight of a few paragraphs." Trial of the Infamous Lawyer—"
"What do you want!" He snapped, slamming the book close with a noticeable blush. My jaw dropped for another time today as I could only stare at him.
"You work in a courtroom if I remember." He nodded. "You got some type of Lawyer fetish or something?" I couldn't help but ask a little concern for my little sis. "You aren't reading this stuff to my sister, are you?"
Flama pulled the novel to his chest, his eyes seemingly redder than usual. 'I would never! Wait! I don't have to explain myself to a cannibal like yourself. What do you want?"
Staring at the embarrassing expression of Flame, pure judgment filled my eyes as my gaze traveled from his eyes to his novel multiple times. "Are you lying to me?"
Flama glanced away.
"Son of a bitch! You perv!"
"There isn't any smut in it!' He promised. "WAIT!!! STOP! WHAT DO YOU WANT!"
Laughing my ass off from my teasing, I held my stomach as he glared with misty eyes. "Ok-Ok-Ok. I just came over to see you. I haven't seen you in a long time. How's your Father doing?"
"Father is fine!" he shouted, rising from his chair. He looked around as if to search for witnesses. " You better not tell anyone about this. Sylvorlum is the only place I can have privacy."
"How the Hell are you the one who judges soul? You seem so innocent!" I pointed out, only to receive a cold snort.
"For your infomation! It's because of my innocents. I see things better as black and white. The Law is the Law. There isn't room for grey in my judgment."
A curious hum escaped my lips as I studied this being before me. Only seeing black and white, I could only imagine the people condemned to hell by this man's actions. Nothing is ever good, nor is it bad.
"You think me wrong?" he spoke, folding his arms over his round belly. "Your expression says it all."
"I do."
"There are nine judges within the Hells, and I reign over the nine as Judge Supreme," he said coldly through narrowed eyes. "It's not my job to see in grey, but theirs. The Hells are fair, even if you don't think so. Remember, there is a reason someone is here. No one asked you to kill, rape, steal, or torture. Your actions are yours to make."
"And a child who was never thought right or wrong is forced to steal? Or a woman who can only feed her child by spreading her legs? What about them?"
Rarely do these cases enter my court. But even if they do. I make my judgment by the good vs. the bad. Feeling's be damn! You outta have been tormented by Abbadon: Child Killer."
Blinking away, I pointed to myself, smiling. " Oh, come on. You know I sent those little ones to a better place. People only feel so strongly about children due to their innocence. They're naive as fuck! Not my fault the parents weren't paying attention. That's on them, not me. It's not my fault they chose to care strongly about their little ones after the fact. Sounds more like bad parenting to me."
"Do you know how messed up that sounds?" Flama stammered to say, sucking in a breath of frigid air.
"I don't need to. I'm fucking Arsene Snow. And despite how messed up it sounds. I make valid points don't I."
"No, you don't. How can you blame the victim, that—"
"Never understood the whole victim shit. Sounds like a bunch of bitching with the hope of getting sympathy."
Flama's scarlet eyes shimmered. " A therapist will have a field day with you. Please go away. Before you tip the scale of my belief."
I laughed. " Really? Is it that easy?"
"No, but your stupidity is so encompassing I might take it out on my next plaintiff or defendant." He grievously responded, reopening his book again. He lifted it to cover his eyes, like a child trying to ignore the adult.
I like him. I like him far more now than the last time I saw him.
Flama lifted his eyes over the book and knitted his brow. " Shoo-Shoo. Get lost."
"How's my little sister." I finally asked the only question I cared about.
"Eating ice cream while she recovers. Never seen someone care more about the flavoring of her ice cream than her injuries." He responded, lowering his book. " But there is one big question everyone is asking."
"How did they get sealing weapons?"
Flama nodded gravely. "The level of sealing weapons needed to grab hold of your sister's physique requires it to be almighty in spirit, material, and technique. From there, it needs blood and a heartstone. Let me tell you. All this is insanely rare, especially when we are talking about techniques that are within the Origin Realm or higher."
Restraining the coldness flame brewing within my soul, pulsing with the wrath of sin, paramount to any lord within the Nines, I growled in response. "Based on the fact that there were so many bastards with these weapons. It must have been an organization filled with dozen of people working together to forge hundreds of weapons. One person could not handle that many at that level. Am I right?"
Flama nodded in the affirmative, pushing me to direct my fury toward a particular man. I was so close to naming the man, but all I had was speculation. The Five souls killed by the Blood Reavers showed me the angel, the Seraphim. All I needed was a name.
I can't just run in and kill the Angels. I don't have the manpower or the power to kill Archangels. At least not yet. I would need to team up with multiple layers of hell and have a few Fallen behind me to stand a chance. Or at least the Abyss.
"What do you know about Metatron?"
"He sounds like a Transformer."
"... I do not disagree, lol. "
Flama folded arms tightened. " he's a prick. I know Lucifer doesn't like Michael, but Metatron is worse. Michael will tell you he doesn't like you to your face, but Metatron will scheme, like a devil, to break you. He's two-faced. Insanely so. But he's a decorated leader, and he can be kind and compassionate, as he follows all Virtues to the best of his ability. At least publicly."
"What's that mean? Publicly?" I asked, shooting a single brow up.
"I can't know how he truly feels because I don't know the man. I can't read his mind. One can hold the virtues dearly in their heart but fall into sin. Lucifer was the perfect example." Flama said calmly, shaking his head. He gave his well-groomed beard a stroke and surveyed the library eerily. "I do not doubt Metatons commitment to the Vitrues, but I know he's not as he appears."
"So he's an enigma. The Mephisto of the Angels."
Flama paused and fell into a burst of laughter that shook the walls. " Well, that's quite accurate. The two do hate each other. Well, I know Metatron still hates him. Mephisto might have forgotten about him. He was never one to hold a grudge." finishing his chuckle, Flama shook his head, shooting me a side glance. " You suspect Metaton for what happened to your sister."
"He's at the top of the list." I calmly replied, feeling my wrath being tempered by my pride as I held myself back.
As if the two were at war with each other, the Path of Abyssal Night swelled within me, cloaking me in a flame of darkness.
"Lilith is furious with the Angels right now. And I do not blame her. That being said, I suspect they might be sending a delegate to communicate with her. I just hope it's one she likes. Else, they're dead."
"Never mind the affairs of the Abyss. When will you visit Irkalla? They are awaiting their new sovereign."
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