Page 277 of The Wishing Game

As Ze speaks, I note that there are two possible roads from the well. One on the right, which only the brighter souls take, and one on the left, which is reserved for the dark souls.

"The virtuous souls are taken to the upper levels of the House of Psyche, where according to their merit, they either proceed directly to the House of Moirai, where they are assigned a new fate and before being reincarnated, or they work to create more merit to gain the chance to reincarnate."

I note thoughtfully.

"And the bad souls?"

"They are taken to the lower levels of the House of Psyche, where according to their sins, they endure punishment. It takes them longer to gain merit to move up the levels and earn a new incarnation, but it is not impossible," Ze explains.

"I thought bad souls become demons," I murmur in confusion as I glance up at him.

"Some. Not all. If the messengers Correctors retrieve them before a certain amount of time, they will not become demons. Once they are touched by Omorion, they are marked for the afterlife and the chances of them becoming demons are null. Before that, however, it is very possible depending on how evil the soul is and how much anger it has collected over its lifetime. It is not an exact science, unfortunately." He purses his lips. "We can more or less predict who is most likely to turn, and those have priority with Collectors. But there are cases where souls become corrupted when left to their own devices."

"What you mean is that as long as there will be souls, there will also be demons, no?"

His lips flatten into a thin line.

"Unfortunately. The universe relies on balance. There are the Light Primordials and the Nether Primordials, and there are the Seven. There are the Aperite Supremes, and there are the Tartarean Lords. We have our governing Houses. So do the Sons of Tenebreis. And just like that, every being has a natural mate that complements its nature," he mentions pointedly as he watches me intently.

"Does that mean your war against demons is never-ending?" I frown.

He doesn't reply for a moment before he sighs.

"It is, indeed, eternal. But that does not mean it is a never-ending conflict. Evil has been around since the dawn of time and will continue to be so. It is only when the scales of balance are tipped in favor of evil that we have to take a stance and act."

"Like now," I mention.

"Like now," he agrees. "But that is not why I have brought you here. Come. We have one more stop."

I blink in surprise.

"What do you mean..." I don't even get to finish my words as he takes my hand and flashes us someplace else.

If before I would have thought P'asala was bleak, this new place is that but times one hundred. There's a scorching heat that makes me want to shed all my clothes, including my skin. My breath comes out in labored spurts, my mouth dry as an unquenchable thirst overtakes me.

"W-w-what is t-this?" I stammer in between pants. I hunch down, my hands on my thighs as I attempt to catch my breath.

"This is Katras, the lowest level of the House of Psyche," Ze comments. One look at him, and he's absolutely fine, his back straight, his posture imposing. Of course he wouldn't be affected by whatever poison is in this air.

I'm barely in control of myself and getting worse. My vision fades slightly, and I can't even tell what's around me. There's only a thick air that presses down on me.

Ze plants himself in front of me and, placing two fingers under my chin, he tips it up so I can look into his piercing gaze. Leaning down, he comes closer to me.

"Open your mouth," he commands.

"W-what?" I whisper in confusion.

But as I open my mouth to speak, he blows cool air into me, his breath becoming my breath. Almost instantaneously, my vigor is restored and I can withstand this heavy atmosphere better.

"This is meant to be an inhospitable place. Here, damned souls suffer for their sins," he explains.

"You mean this is hell?"

"In your human terms, indeed." He nods.

I stare at him, dumbfounded. Is this his idea of adate? To bring me to literal hell?

FIFTY-EIGHT

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