Page 6 of Demanding Discord
“Your sisters found my brothers. I saw them when they attempted to summon me.”
“They found them because I asked them to. I left a note for Ash to find if I didn’t make it back home. It’s not kismet or fate or even serendipity. They’re following a plan—my plan—which I put into place before I summoned you.”
“I felt their bonds. Three sisters for three brothers. Three powerful witches for three demon princes.” How could she not see that fate had a hand in this?
“Let me stop you right there.” She turned and held up a finger. “If Ash and Ember are getting it on with your brothers, that’s none of my business. But this…these feelings we have for each other…? Magic fabricated them, and magic will undo them. Think about that before you decide you’re horns-over-hooves in love with me or some other nonsense.”
“Why you then?” I continued walking.
She followed by my side. “I’m the eldest daughter, the one who knew about the curse. It had to be me.”
“Why no one before you? Your ancestors have been in peril for centuries, yet you were the first to try and right the situation.”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask them.”
“It’s because everything is happening the way fate intended it to. We’re meant to be together, and not even your silver tongue could convince me otherwise.”
“Then, we’ll just have to agree to disagree.” She lifted her arms and dropped them at her sides, the look on her face indicating the conversation was over.
I could have pressed her further…circled back to her admission that she chose me because it felt right…but I refrained. Once we found Hecate, the goddess would confirm that fate had woven this tapestry long before Cinder was born. Possibly before even I came into being. Then, she’d have no grounds to deny it.
Cinder was my soul bride, not because of an accident that led to a series of unfortunate events, but because she was meant to be mine.
We continued in silence, walking until nothing but rock, dappled with slick patches of obsidian, stretched out as far as I could see. Cinder wrinkled her nose, the tar and sulfur aromas no doubt offending her senses. The smell and thickness of the air began to offend mine as well.
The orange moon hung still in the sky, as always, providing no hint of how long we’d been on our journey. Months could have passed in the earthly realm, where here it had only been days. Then again, with time behaving the way it did in Hell, we could have been walking for months while only minutes passed in the other realm.
It was enough to drive a man insane, and that was by design, of course.
“Good goddess, it smells like broccoli and egg dog farts.” Cinder waved a hand in front of her face. “Why would Hecate have a temple way out here?”
“She’s an ancient goddess, who was worshipped long before Lucifer came into rule. This was her level of the Underworld until he took control of the realm. When he did, he claimed the eighth level as his kingdom because of the molten rivers. Building there, flourishing despite the destructive nature of magma, proved his unparalleled power.”
She scoffed. “So it was a flex.”
“If by that you mean a way for him to easily subjugate the denizens here, then yes. It was a flex.”
“Figures. What level is this then? How can you tell when you enter a new one?”
“Crossing the ravine where we did brought us into the fifth level. This barren land was once the epicenter of the Underworld. It’s where souls, escorted by Hecate and her psychopomps, would enter the realm before passing into their eternities.”
“And let me guess. Lucifer razed it as his first flex.”
I chuckled. “Not his first, but one of many.”
“And still she fell for him. I don’t get it.”
“Trying to understand the thought process of deities is futile at best.”
The terrain angled upward, and when we reached the top of the incline, a valley lay before us. Geysers of fire erupted from sulfurous craters, shooting toward the sky, intensifying the stench in the air. On the far side, a cave burrowed into the rock, and in the center of the valley, Hecate’s original Underworld temple lay in ruins.
Made of black stone and obsidian, the once magnificent structure stood crumbling, its columns having toppled, its walls deteriorated after millennia of neglect. The triple moon, Hecate’s sigil, barely showed through the layers of ash and dirt on the pediment, and a line of statues, now headless and limbless, lined the path toward the steps.
“Wow,” Cinder said, her eyes wide with wonder. “I can’t imagine our goddess living here. Not even part-time.”
“Temples are structures where deities are worshipped, not where they reside.” I took her hand and guided her down the path, the foreboding feeling that had unsettled me earlier growing stronger with each step.
“Where does she stay when she’s in Hell, then?” She stopped at the first dismembered statue and examined it.
