A QUEST OF DEATH : Shadows Never Lie (undergoing MACRO EDITING)

19 | Regret • Part 2

In the heart of the infernal realm, a sudden hush swept through the denizens of Hell as the Dark Lord manifested among them. The air crackled with an otherworldly tension, and the flickering flames seemed to bow in obedience to his malevolent presence. Shadows trembled in awe as the embodiment of Death stepped forth, his form obscured by the swirling darkness that clung to him like a shroud.

The ghouls, demons, and devils, who were in the midst of carrying out their infernal duties, halted abruptly at the intrusion of their sovereign. Sinners, in various states of torment, twisted and contorted in their anguish, now found their agony momentarily overshadowed by an inexplicable fear that gripped them at the sight of the Dark Lord's manifestation.

A high-ranking demon, adorned with twisted horns and clad in molten armour, mustered the courage to approach the imposing figure. With a timid bow that betrayed both reverence and trepidation, the demon ventured forth and inquired, his voice a hesitant murmur in the oppressive silence.

"What has brought Your Grace to the depths of Hell in this unholy hour? How may we serve you?" The very essence of submission and fear echoed in the demon's words. Even the denizens didn't dare offered Death himself now that he had descended upon their domain. The natural order of torment and retribution shifted under his dominion.

"Where is the Head Mage of Romersai?" the Dark Lord demanded, his voice reverberating with an otherworldly intensity.

"He is in the Abyss of Sins, my Lord, as you had commanded," the demon responded, bowing even lower.

"Has either of them confessed?" the Dark Lord inquired, a cold impatience underlying his words.

"No, my Lord," the demon admitted, and a ripple of discomfort passed through the assembled denizens.

"No? What have you damned creatures been doing all this time?" The Dark Lord's anger flared, and the shadows seemed to writhe in response.

"We did our best, my Lord, but the Head mage's soul is resilient. As an early reaped soul, some tormentations prove less effective. His soul remains stubbornly alive, and the undestroyed body keeps pulling him back," the demon explained, bracing for the Dark Lord's reaction.

His eyes blazed with a sudden madness, a manifestation of his impatience and ire. "And the woman?" he pressed, his voice cutting through the stillness.

"She resists us, my Lord. Her weakness is tied to the Head Mage, and as of now, that weakness has become our own vulnerability," the demon confessed, a note of apprehension colouring its words.

A surge of frustration coursed through the Dark Lord. The chamber of remorse, known as the Abyss of Sins, where the Head Mage of Romersai and the tormented soul of Jelu the vendor were held, echoed with the ceaseless moans of those ensnared in their own transgressions.

He was well aware of Erixir's involvement in the intricate web of deception that had ensnared Ada. When Ada managed to see through the rosy hues of love that had veiled her perception of her so-called lover, she realised that his proximity was solely motivated by the powers she wielded.

Though at some point she had confronted the person she loved, fought against him for the sake of her kin and the responsibility bestowed upon her by wearing the Luna Pearl it changed little to nothing for herself. Her supposed kin, much like Devereaux's own unfortunate circumstances, did not stand by her side.

And Erixir was one of those ungrateful bastards. Being a descendant from one of the three adopted children of Romersai, chose to align himself with the snake, driven by a thirst for power and a position he could never attain through his bloodline he proved family meant nothing without a heart that ached for the blood and bond.