Chapter 2
My skin tingled as I wandered through ever-changing corridors. The ground shook under my feet and the air vibrated as if the very atmosphere wanted to split apart.
Purgatory wasn’t supposed to exist like this. It was an ethereal realm, a holding place for souls, so maybe that’s why it was about to rip itself apart on Hell’s lower levels. It had shot through like a spear, piercing every layer with the entrance buried deep in Lucifer’s territory.
Hell was a mixture of ethereal spirits and tangible creatures, a place where demons roamed and souls wandered an endless maze of tunnels forever searching for something they’d never find.
Peace.
Purgatory didn’t know how to process the corporeal side of things and it was about to break itself apart. It was a holding place for those who knew better than to seek out peace. In a way, Purgatory was worse than Hell. It was a prison. It lacked hope.
And now, it rumbled and shook as if Hell itself wanted to spit it out. The golden air trembled and dusty motes flicked up into the air as fractures appeared.
Which meant I didn’t have much time to find my Virtues.
Ducking under one of the jagged fractures, I wound through the golden maze, following the tug on my heart that would lead me to my sleeping Virtues who dared to hold onto a shred of hope.
Hope that I would come for them and set them free.
The beam of light thinned, revealing the structure underneath it as I approached. Walls transformed into roman-style columns. When I pressed my fingers to the marble exterior, cracks formed, elongating as I walked by.
I approached a door, opened it and discovered a winding hall.
Venturing inside, I found much of the same.
More doors.
More halls.
A multitude of stairs that only took me to a winding maze full of dead-ends, empty rooms, walls with bars. I ventured onward with only the swish of my wings and the echo of my shoes on marble to keep me company.
The connection to my Virtues outside waned against the intense pressure offered from Purgatory. I wound a hand up my shirt and scratched at my chest, hating the feeling, but I would return to them soon.
I had to.
My legs ached, but I climbed as fast as I could. I shrank my wings to my back, grateful that they felt lighter now, as I clawed my way up the hundredth staircase and into a new corridor.
I knew I was going the right way, I just hoped that I would make it in time. I wasn’t sure what would happen if Purgatory fractured into a thousand pieces while I was still trapped inside.
Perhaps I’d splinter with it and cease to exist, only a haunting memory for my Virtues who would never wake, and a source of sorrow that would plummet Kaito into the depths of despair.
And Lucifer… he’d win.
Not going to happen.
Growling, I broke into a run as the narrow passageway closed around me, tightening until I had to crouch to pass through. Golden light filled the cracks splintering the walls, humming with an intense high pitch.
“Keep it together!” I commanded, pressing my fingertips that glowed with a similar golden light to the stone, holding the worst of the breakage back.
I could help Purgatory with the angelic part of my powers, but not for long. I didn’t understand how they worked, but the urge deep inside of myself fed my instinct to survive.
Because I had to make it through this.
I wasn’t even sure what would happen to the universe if Purgatory ceased to be.
It wasn’t meant to be like this, nor so…
empty. Purgatory worked as an in-between, a realm that existed between life and death.
Its structure was formed by the souls inside of it, creating fields and scenes built on lost dreams and memories.
The cages were a self-fulfilling entrapment. No one had created them except those banished to this place. They felt like they had nowhere to go, they’d lost all hope, and the cages represented their mourning.
It made Purgatory popular for fallen angels.
Yet, they were all gone, save for my two sleeping Virtues. I’d felt those other souls here before, keeping Purgatory afloat, but now the entire maze was otherwise abandoned.
So where did they go?
I wasn’t certain I wanted to know why almost all the souls in Purgatory had suddenly just gone poof.
Uneasiness spread through me as I checked yet another room, this one more luxurious than the last, save for the cracks that riddled the stone. A load-bearing wall gave way as the ceiling began to collapse, sending marble debris crashing to the floor.
I was just about to venture on when a glimmer of light caught my eye.
My gaze landed on a mirror that had managed to stay on the wall, despite Purgatory’s incessant shaking. I approached it, seeing myself in a distorted image with glorious black wings behind me and a Hell crown on my head.
Perhaps this was where I belonged. Returning here brought a sense of dread and finality that weighed me down.
That’s just Purgatory talking.
Shaking myself, I searched the ground, spotting a scattering of black feathers strewn around a cage. Aside from some bloodstains, the cage was empty.
They weren’t here.
Crestfallen, I left the room and retraced my steps. Soon I found three more chambers that had held similar cages, each of them in old and littered with feathers, and each empty.
Picking up my pace, I tried not to panic, and let that tug inside of my chest guide me through the rooms.
I almost missed it—this section had nearly collapsed entirely, the reinforced entryway only partially intact, just one slim section passable, the rest a ruin of crushed stone and broken rock. Tons of small objects littered the ground. Broken bowls. Sticks. Old worn shirts with slits in the back.
Almost as if angels had lived here and scavenged.
Just beyond that doorway, a maw of darkness yawned open.
There, that insistent urge told me. Down those steps into the darkness, somewhere, I’d find my unclaimed Virtues. The two who had been left behind, while all the others of their kind had disappeared.
Dread tripped down my spine, my wings fanning the air in agitation. I had no choice. I had to go down there.
I could see pretty well in the dark, given my genetic background, however this darkness seemed impenetrable even to my abilities.
I would kill for a flashlight.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t considered my trip to Purgatory to be a dark one. I was going to have to improvise.
Searching the rubble, I picked up one of the more robust sticks and wound one of the shirts around the top. It would work as a torch, but I needed fuel.
Spotting a flask poking out from underneath some debris, I raised an eyebrow. I picked it up and unscrewed the top, the sharp scent of alcohol making me wrinkle my nose. Perhaps it wasn’t odd that angels might drink vodka. Rumor had it they loved turning water into wine.
But… cherry flavored vodka?
Whatever. I’m not one to judge.
Dousing the cloth-end of the torch until the room smelled like alcohol and cherries, I focused on the sputtering power of my Hell Crown, using it to protect my darker side as I brought a spark to my fingertips.
Purgatory retaliated against the opposing magic, sending a snap of pain up my wrist as the flame sparked and threatened to sputter out.
I lit the cloth before the power of purification nearly crushed the emergence of my Demonspawn powers, releasing a breath of relief when it was done.
Torch lit, I strapped the flask to my hip—because I would need more fuel, or maybe a sip, depending on what I came across—I ventured into the dark hole awaiting me and looked around.
Nothing but a winding, descending staircase and darkness.
Wonderful.
Swallowing, I took the first step, then the second. When nothing jumped out of the darkness at the bottom, I descended, the torch held up at an angle, just a little ahead of me so it didn’t accidentally set my wings on fire as I scrunched them to my back.
That would be a sight.
It felt strange to be going down when I’d been going up all this time, and the staircase seemed to send me straight through to the lower levels of Purgatory, all the way to the very bottom until I reached a cold, stale hallway with a suffocating darkness.
My footsteps echoed, the sound resonating in my chest as if no one had been here for a very long time.
The corridor stretching out in front of me looked vaguely familiar, but this hadn’t been where I’d seen cages the last time I’d been to Purgatory.
The fall of my booted feet on the stone beneath me sounded far too ominous for my own liking and I tried to move quietly, my senses alert for any signs of life.
That first corridor stretched on for what felt like a lifetime and I had to stop to add more fuel to the torch. There was no way I was getting trapped in the darkness down here without any light source. No. Way.
The flame from the torch wasn’t strong enough to penetrate the deepest shadows. Although I couldn’t sense anything more than the pulsating pull from my Virtues somewhere ahead, the empty darkness in those black shadows felt wrong, sending prickles down my arms.
Where had everybody gone? And why had only my Virtues been left behind?
I reached a heavy wood door with iron cross-sections. Peering through, I squeaked when it creaked open.
Moving into the next room, I held up my torch, my nostrils flaring at the distinct scent of old blood.
And then pain hit me—not my own, but an echo of a deep hunger and encroaching hopelessness took my breath away.
Heavy equipment lined the halls, reminding me of a torture chamber. Although the devices didn’t resemble any of the traditional tools of torture I was aware of.
Two jagged rings hung from the wall, dark with old blood.
Wing cutters, I realized with a cringe.
This was a torture chamber for angels.
Rage flared inside of me that my Virtues might have suffered here. Was there anything left of them? Had they died before I even had a chance to save them?
And who had been their torturer?
I pushed onward, allowing myself to focus to the dim light as the torch struggled and flickered. I spotted a gleam of cages at the end of the otherwise desolate room. Most of them were empty, garnished by mangled, black feathers.
Urgency pushed me onward into the next chamber, then the next. I had to stop again, add more fuel to my makeshift torch and as I finished, a stray sound caught my attention.
Rustling. That’s what it sounded like. Soft, faint rustling, almost like fabric rubbing together, soft and silky fabric, something luxurious and delicate. A susurration of sound utterly out of place in this dark tomb.
The tug inside me yanked hard, sending me staggering. My wings flared to help me keep my balance.
They were there.
Just beyond the next door.
Nerves and agitation, excitement and fear, a hundred emotions jittered through my veins as I advanced, going slowly through sheer will alone.
This doorway, like the others, weighed heavy against my efforts to open it, reinforced with the cross-supports of iron.
I couldn’t get it to open with my one empty hand and I wasn’t about to lower the torch, so I closed my wings, held them tight to my spine and turned, pressing my back to the door so I could put my legs into it.
With a low groan, the door gave way, dust drifting from the entry as if the door hadn’t been touched in ages.
If possible, it seemed the darkness in here was even more complete, wrapping around the flame from my torch as if it wanted to devour that one source of light. Brandishing the torch like a weapon, I held it up.
Tears pricked my eyes when I spotted two figures on the floor.
I ventured closer.
The light from my torch reflected against massive white wings, glorious with silky feathers spread out like a tapestry.
I’d found them.