First of the Fallen (Neophyte Series 1)

28. Awaken

        THROUGH A HEAVY FOG that rolled in from a doorway of light and magic, the solid stone floor was felt beneath their soles as the trio emerged. The same dim light from the vast space beyond the previous room remained, not from a single window, however, but from all around them. The door to nowhere had not taken them far, but merely higher in elevation, as the cavernous ceiling was suddenly visible a few hundred feet above them.

    They had emerged onto the topmost level of a cylindrical tower carved into the side of the cavern wall, like a thin mountain separated from its bulky mother and stretched most of the way up. The layout atop the structure reminded Michael of Stonehenge but mounted atop a castle keep. Its supports were noticeably sharper and rigid, an onyx marble in place of grey stone, glowing with demonic inscriptions at every turn, as though liquid magma somehow flowed just beneath the surface. Beyond the strange formation there was no railing—nothing to keep them from plummeting to their deaths had they lost their footing too close to the edge.

    'Man, this place just gets weirder and weirder.' he looked to Urielle, who was equally stunned. The entire cave seemed deliberately designed to keep them feeling miniscule, mere ants crawling about a towering corbel. Anubis seemed locked in awe as well, her eyes wide with wonder as she had only heard of the Resurrection Chamber, but had not laid eyes upon it until this very moment.

    The conjured doorway of light and magic collapsed in on itself and vanished from sight, a reminder that there was no way back, and every step forward was a permanent choice. The trio collectively scanned the room, taking in its majestic composition. As the vapour cleared, the unusual design of the floor caught Michael's attention. Hundreds of ten-foot rectangles swirled in a spiraling pattern from the outer edge of the structure to the very center of the floor.

    Two curving walls stood at eye level just around the center, opposite once another with a ying and yang formation. As he stepped into their midst to get a better look, a familiar sight caught his breath immediately. The hauntingly familiar display was carved in three-dimensional perfection, a sculpture likened to something one might find in Vatican City, but certainly not in Hell. The work was that of the Last Supper, but not quite. Its twin brother he had seen once before, in another resurrection chamber—a tomb beneath the Sanctuary, but there was nothing holy about it. Unlike its brother, the stone itself had been dyed to add colour to the scene, and the red eyes that glared from across the table were unavoidable. He recognized that eerie, crooked grin straight away, eyes that could see right through you with a single glance; for it was not the Savior who was positioned in the center chair as was the traditional depiction, but the human form of Lucifer.

    He looked exactly how he had presented himself to Michael in their first meeting; the calm and collected man that sat opposite him in a conjured pub, the last time he was a guest in Hell. It was a blasphemous scene, one that curdled his stomach to behold. In place of Mary Magdalene was a fiery ginger with the fairest of complexion, a teenager from the look of her, but her garb was what stood out the most. He recognized the unique look, a lacy shawl and hoop earrings over a flowing white dress that could double as a cloak. Another had worn this very same ensemble on a famous album cover—one of his favourites. She was the red-headed, youthful doppelganger of one Stevie Nicks, and knowing of her affiliation with an ancient order, Michael wondered if Mary Magdalene's replacement was of Magi descent.

    Samael sat with a scowl at the very end of the table, his arms crossed like he didn't want to be there. He didn't quite look like himself. His cheekbones appeared much higher, his scars multiplied, and his red eyes just as vibrant as Lucifer's. Long blonde locks had been cut short and slicked back, and he wore what looked to be a business suit of sorts, so far out of character that Michael wondered if it was really supposed to be him. The Immortal hated business attire, and formal suits most of all.