Chapter Fifteen #3
“Who are you?” I whispered.
A pause.
A flicker of movement, the smoke around him writhing. “You may call me The Creator.”
A chill spread through me, sinking into my bones.
“The Creator of . . . Hell?”
Silence.
“How can I win The Cycle?”
The faceless man moved without sound. Before I could react, his hand settled on my shoulder. A jolt tore through me – not pain, but something more – an incredible force, pressing down with the weight of eternity. My breath hitched. The world wrenched sideways, and visions crashed over me.
Fire, rising high into a blackened sky.
Figures gathered – six demons, their forms shifting, horns catching on the light, eyes burning with purpose. But their faces were in shadow. I couldn’t see who they were exactly, but it didn’t matter.
Their voices were distinct, and somehow, I knew exactly what I was witnessing.
“He is too dangerous.” A voice in the darkness.
“There must be an end to his reign.” Another coarse voice. “Or we will suffer for an eternity.”
“He must be bound to the depths of Hell and separated from the power.”
The scene vanished in a cloud of mist, but another appeared in its place.
An imposing figure, Salazar, stood before his court. He had sensed their plotting, the approaching betrayal. I could feel his anger as if it was my own.
Darkness appeared, and shadows expanded. Salazar roared; the fires of Hell were unleashed, ready to devour everything in their path.
The Creator was motionless beside me, as he said, “Hell’s ruler controls the burning shadows. It is the only weapon against demonic powers.”
The realm feared Salazar’s power, and they turned on him for it.
Six forces, six wills, striking as one. Chains, forged not from iron but from their own Essence, wrapped around him, tethering him to the fiery depths. He did not scream. He did not beg. He endured as they sealed him away, sending Hell into a time of stasis.
Without a ruler, there was no one to control the gates of Hell.
I gasped for air, but the vision continued.
Another truth exposed.
The Cycle.
Born not as a path to power, but as a safeguard. Hell’s way to crown a new ruler.
But over time, the demons twisted it into something else: a means meant to draw Essence from every soul that crossed into Hell. With each new Cycle, another soul was dragged in and tied to a domain, feeding its demon and keeping the throne vacant indefinitely.
It was a rigged game.
A carefully maintained deception.
And realisation dawned on me . . . if I won The Cycle, then the demon I was tied to, would take the throne.
I wanted to recoil, to break free from the vision’s grip, but it wouldn’t let me go. The scene diverted again, and I was suddenly standing at a precipice.
Below, a bottomless chasm yawned open.
In my hands, I held them all – the relics, glowing with raw energy, humming against my skin. They held something precious, and I sensed that I needed to collect them all to fully understand.
Behind me, the faceless man loomed, his presence pressing against my back.
“You can win The Cycle if you are strong enough,” he said.
“But you must choose between your old life, or the one you are yet to face.” He lifted a hand, a new vision knitted together, and there, as clear as day, I saw my home.
The small cottage that had housed me and Tobias, keeping us safe for many years.
My brother stepped through the crooked door and looked straight at me. His lips moved, but no sound followed.
“Choose,” the faceless man said.
The word rang through me like the toll of a bell.
This wasn’t real.
Was it?
The vision was already shattering, dissolving into smoke. As my home slipped away, the faceless man’s voice echoed one final time, sinking into my mind like a promise.
“Hell cannot survive as it is. And neither can you.”
Darkness swallowed everything.
I was falling into an abyss. The faceless man, the relics, and the demons were gone.
I slammed back into my body.
A gasp tore from my throat as I lurched forward, air rushing back into my lungs as if I had been drowning. My fingers dug into fabric. I was sitting on a spread of cushions. Bitter incense overwhelmed me.
I was back in the merchant’s tent in the Market of Desires.
Leander knelt beside me, one hand clutching my shoulder and the other hovering only inches from my face. Was he going to stroke my cheek or slap it?
“Where did you go?” His voice was low, but there was an uneasy edge to it.
I blinked rapidly. Visions of the cabin, the truth of The Cycle, were fresh in my mind.
Leander exhaled, his grip tightening for a moment before letting go.
“How long was I . . . gone?”
“A few minutes.” His gaze flicked around the tent. It was like he was looking for threats. Maybe that was normal for a warrior, and I appreciated it all the same.
I swallowed hard, pressing a hand to my chest. My pulse was erratic, and I felt exhausted.
“I think I need to rest a while,” I whispered. “Can you take me back to my chambers?”
Leander nodded once, before hauling me to my feet.
Behind us, the merchant chuckled. “You’re forgetting something.”
I froze.
The merchant smiled, pearly white teeth glinting in the lantern light.
“We made a deal. Truth must be paid for in kind,” she purred. “What did you see?”
A demand, not a question.
The bracelet started to burn against my wrist. It seemed it wanted me to answer the merchant, or it would burn right through my flesh.
“I think . . .” The words caught, reluctant to be spoken aloud. “I think I saw the Creator of Hell.”
“Go on . . .”
“He showed me the origins of The Cycle.”
“Yes . . .”
“He said, if I’m strong enough, I can win.” I forced down what that meant – that the Demon of Temptation would be crowned ruler of Hell.
The metal bracelet around my wrist clicked open and fell to the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Leander tense up.
The merchant studied me. “Interesting. That truth will fetch a high price in the right circles.” She looked almost giddy with excitement.
Leander moved before I could react. His hand gripped the merchant around her neck. Her eyes grew wide.
“You will keep this truth to yourself,” he growled. She tried to speak, but Leander gripped her tightly. “If I hear you have spoken to anyone about this, you will not like the consequences.”
He let her go, and she clasped her throat.
“Yes, Leander,” she said, gasping for air. “I’m sorry. She’s just a Champion. I didn’t think she mattered.”
Okay, ouch. I’m adding that to the list of insults Hell-dwellers keep throwing at me.
Leander’s eyes ignited with fury. “You heard her truth. She might actually have a shot at winning. So that means she matters.”
The merchant seemed to cower away, as though the shadows could hide her from Leander’s gaze. She nodded, jerkily, and bowed her head.
Leander grabbed my wrist, his grip firm but careful, and in a single, fluid motion, he pulled me off the cushions.
“We’re leaving,” he said, voice colder than I’d ever heard it. His carefree, playful mask had fallen away completely. All that remained was rage, and I couldn’t help but feel slightly terrified.
Confusion wracked my mind, and at the very same time, a tremor ran through the ground. The tent fabric rippled, the candle flames flickering wildly. Outside, the noise of the Market of Desires wavered, thinning.
The lanterns burned lower, and shadows stretched. The warm reds and golds of the market stalls dulled into something more ashen.
Leander’s entire body shifted, his stance now guarded, his head tilting slightly as if listening for something beyond my hearing.
With one swift tug, we were out of the tent and back into the market’s twisting paths. I hardly had time to notice the change in the air when Leander’s pace accelerated, his hold never leaving my wrist as he guided us through the crowd.
“Leander—”
“Keep moving,” he rasped.
His voice was tense, his usual lazy amusement stripped away. I had seen Leander in many forms – indifferent, charming, teasing – but never like this.
“What just happened?” I demanded, yanking against his grip.
He stopped, just for a moment.
His blue eyes flicked to mine, and I saw something close to fear in them for the first time since I met him.
“You don’t understand what you just said in there.” His voice was quiet, urgent. “If you’re lucky, no one else heard it.”
Another tremor ran through the ground. Like something below us was shifting, turning its attention to the spot where we stood.
Leander cursed under his breath, scanning the market.
“We need to go.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted the whole truth. But Leander was already striding away, his coat flowing behind him like the sweeping tail of an angry beast.