Chapter Twenty-One
Nina
When the blackness dissolved and the familiar warmth of Hell’s crimson glow poured over me, we found ourselves standing in a garden.
A path of wildflowers stretched before us, weaving through sprawling hedges and towering trees. Their leaves glistened in hues of emerald and gold. Petals fluttered like small pieces of silk in the breeze, catching the light in delicate, iridescent glimmers.
But something about it was off.
The ground sparkled as though scattered with crushed gemstones, but the earth was mushy and sticky when I stepped forward. Dominik strolled slowly beside me, his mouth open as he took in the landscape.
Beyond the gardens, the horizon stretched out to reveal a sprawling cityscape.
Unlike Temptation, which was obsidian stone and luxury everything, Corruption was delicate.
Pearlescent glass buildings rose towards the red-plastered sky.
The scent of fruit and flowers was refreshing, but I wondered if the sweetness was meant to disguise something.
Sure, the domain might have looked like paradise, but such a thing could never exist in Hell. I was starting to grasp that nothing in this world was ever what it seemed.
We stayed on the trail and eventually encountered other souls. They wandered the garden, roaming through trees and shrubs, tending to the plants with slow, mechanical care. Their stiff movements and cloudy eyes indicated that they were not quite awake, more like sleepwalkers trapped in a dream.
Before long, a gigantic dome of emerald glass rose ahead.
From a distance, it appeared pristine, but as we got closer, hairline fissures appeared on its exterior, delicate as spiderwebs and spreading like veins.
We were, after all, in Corruption. Perhaps that’s what we were seeing: glass contaminated by the realm itself.
“Nina, Nina, Nina . . .” The whispers tickled at the back of my mind. They weren’t soothing, not this time. The voices sounded frantic, and that only made me feel more on edge.
“Do you think Hell is alive?” The words left my mouth before I could second-guess them.
Dominik shot me a sideways glance, his brow furrowing. “Alive?”
“I’ve been hearing whispers,” I admitted, lowering my voice in case the flowers could hear my secrets. “Sometimes they’re faint, like an echo. Sometimes, the voices are direct, as if they know me. Like they’re guiding me.”
He didn’t reply immediately, his steps slowing as he mulled over it. “Or, maybe, manipulating you. These demons have powers, Nina. It could be any one of them.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think it’s the demons . . . I think they’re trying to help.”
Dominik scoffed. “I wish I were hearing voices that were helping me through the game.”
I gave him an apologetic look. “I didn’t think of it like that.”
A subtle trace of tension had settled in his shoulders. Maybe if our positions were reversed and he’d told me he was getting help from some mysterious force, I’d feel jealous, too. But was it jealousy that I was sensing in him now? It felt like something else.
The dome’s entryway was tall and sufficiently wide for a troll to pass through, and beyond it was a wild garden with a few stone columns scattered about, veined with a sickly green matter.
A glass frame partly covered in thorny vines hung above us.
I looked up to the red sky, grateful for its familiarity.
We started down the narrow path in silence until we reached the centre, where a pool of molten gold churned in a pit. I paused just short of the edge, and heat rolled off in waves.
With a gurgle, the gold liquid erupted from the pit.
It stretched upward, moulding itself into something long-limbed.
It had arms and fingers, and then legs, before a face formed.
The molten gold hardened, and I saw that it was now a woman, her form elongated, her proportions just slightly off.
Her bronze skin had a sheen to it, and where her temples would have been, two horns curved up and over her head.
She wore a gold chain gown, and her fingertips were stained gold, and I realised then that this was the demon, and perhaps beauty was her poison.
A pair of unsettling green irises stared at us, faceted like gemstones. “I was wondering when you’d both arrive.”
She took a step forward, out of the pit, her gaze flicking over me, assessing, calculating, not as though she were seeing me, but as if she were deciding my worth.
“I am Cressida, Mistress of Corruption.”
A creeping unease slithered through me as the demon took another step forward, so that she was just a breath away from Dominik and me.
“Your choices glitter with promise, but do they shine for others? I think not. Your choices are about you, and only you.”
Something cold unfurled in my stomach. She was talking to me, trying to get under my skin. But I couldn’t let her.
And yet . . . the stolen locket.
When I took something from the merchant’s house, a long time ago, I had convinced myself it was survival. But had it been greed?
My hand reached for the golden pendant hanging around my neck, and I suddenly had a strange sensation come over me, like I’d have done anything, anything, to take what was mine.
“Stop it,” I said.
“Stop what?” Her voice was all innocence, and it did a good job of hiding her true nature. I could have easily forgotten she was a very old demon of Hell.
However, the sensation was similar to that in Temptation . . . It was magic and power that was entering my body, compelling me to feed on its own vice.
“I know what you’re doing,” I spat. “It’s not going to work on me.”
The demon grinned wickedly, and the ground rumbled.
A crack split down the glass dome, and through the garden, racing towards us with impossible speed.
I stumbled back as gold surged, bubbling violently.
I barely had time to register what had happened before the crack widened, the void gaping between us.
Dominik swore. “Nina—”
But the ground beneath me lurched, shifting like rolling dunes, forcing me back another step. And Dominik was out of sight a moment later.
Cressida let out a low, pleased hum, watching the panic bloom on my face.
“Don’t hurt him,” I shouted.
Her eyes glittered. “You misunderstand, Champion. I can’t simply snuff you out. None of us can. Or did your precious Serpent not tell you that?”
Serpent? Who in all of Hell is she talking about?
“Champions are compelled to compete in The Cycle, of course. Until a trial begins, you’re off-limits.
Only a fair death would be acceptable. If I struck you down now, the punishment would be mine to bear.
But I don’t want to see you destroyed. All I want is to see your darkest self.
Nothing of the sort that my peers enjoy, like Torment or Fear. ”
I staggered forward, the uneven ground shaking underneath me as I attempted to find my footing.
The air swelled with heat, pressing against my skin like molten breath, and a bridge formed through the swirling fog of gold-dusted light.
It was made of gilded stone embedded with emerald veins stretching into the distance like something out of a dream.
The bridge forked, dividing into two distinct paths.
At the centre, bound in heavy chains, was Ronan.
His arms were shackled behind his back. His clothes hung in tatters, torn as if he’d been hauled around by banshees, which, knowing this place, he probably had.
Soot streaked his face, and his gaze was frantic, desperate.
Golden flames licked up from the depths below, illuminating the fear etched into his features.
“Please, please,” he begged, his voice hoarse and raw. “Save me.”
A shiver ran through me.
Cressida’s voice rang out, smooth and taunting, dripping with pure joy. “A simple choice, Champion,” she purred, stepping forward into my periphery, her silhouette impossibly composed. “Save a soul or choose yourself and earn my relic.”
The bridge gleamed beneath the firelight, its two paths stretching like fate uncoiling before me.
One led to Ronan, who was still fighting against his chains.
The other led to Cressida, standing beside a pedestal, where her relic rested upon velvet.
I clenched my fists. A test. Of course, it was a test. Cressida regarded me with a malicious smile.
“Tell me,” she murmured. “What is his life worth? He’s already failed the trial, so you could obliterate him right here. You’ll have less competition to face in The Cycle. What is your victory worth?”
I turned back to Ronan. His breath was ragged, his fear real.
Wasn’t it?
The flames crept closer, their golden tongues licking at the edges of the bridge, their heat searing against my skin.
“Save me,” Ronan said desperately. “Save me, and I’ll tell you how to win The Cycle.”
My breath caught. “What?”
He swallowed hard, wincing against the weight of his chains. “Amabel and I figured it out. We know exactly how to win. The demons don’t want a victor, but there’s a way. If you help me now, I’ll help you in return. I’ll tell you everything.”
My pulse hammered in my ears.
If Ronan knew the answer and could help me break this game, that would be everything I needed.
“You swear it?” I demanded.
“On my soul.” His breath hitched. “On everything I have left. I’ll help you get whatever you were promised. Just please . . . help me.”
The flames flared higher, but I hesitated.
Cressida’s smile widened, a flicker of something almost amused in her gaze. She was enjoying this.
I made my choice.
I sprinted towards Ronan.
The chains rattled violently as I reached him, my hands fumbling to find a way to break them apart. The metal burned to the touch, but I gritted my teeth and pulled.
The flames roared, and a sickening snap rang out as the bridge beneath us trembled.
Cressida laughed, a rich, satisfied sound that echoed across the chasm.