First of the Fallen (Neophyte Series 1)

29. First of the Fallen

        BLISTERING WIND WRAPPED DEMON hands of scorching fire around their frail human flesh, boiling the oils of their skin and singing the ends of every strand of hair. The heat was thankfully over quite quickly, however. Merely a few seconds of whipping through the vortex like pebbles through a vacuum hose was more than enough time to convince them that they never wanted to travel by means of Hell portal again. Had they traveled any further, Michael was certain they would have combusted in whole; passages not meant for the living, their forms not made of Necroflesh, after all.

    They did not tumble out of the portal like clumsy oafs as expected, but landed firmly on their feet, a pleasant change from the face plant out of the Abyss. Arriving on the other side, weapons were drawn immediately, the two Supernals locked and loaded for any unwanted company, but they found their surroundings relatively still and quiet, not another soul in sight.

    The flames were quickly extinguished with a deafening crack as the vortex blinked out of existence, leaving them under the darkest sky either humans had ever witnessed. Once the trio realized they were indeed alone, their weapons were tucked away and flashlights were clicked to life.

    The heat of the flames was thankfully gone and replaced by a cool, spring-like breeze—heavenly by comparison, and so they took a much needed moment to rest and catch their breath.

    'That was so close, I nearly defecated myself.' said Anubis, the only one not out of breath.

    'Wait . . . do you even shit?' asked Michael, wiping the sweat from his brow and considering the creature.

    'No.' she replied, taking in their dark surroundings. 'A figure of speech, of course. I have always lacked the equipment for most biological functionality. However, I have been known to sweat or even secrete fluid through my pours if pushed to extremes.'

    'And if your followers . . . would've believed . . . otherwise?'

    'Than it would be otherwise.' she replied irritably. 'Is your shortness of breath not a good enough reason to cease your insufferable babbling?' she shook her head. 'Catch your breath, Archangel.'

    He nodded, taking her advice as he scanned their environment, what appeared to be a dark forest in the dead of winter. Though there wasn't a flake of snow in sight, and the temperature wasn't near cold enough, not a single branch held one leaf. The only source of light other than their flashlights was a glowing shape far in the distance, mostly blocked by the twisted branches of barren trees of odd shapes and strange growth. Within the dim glow of the distant light, their faces could be seen smudged with soot, the fabric of their cloaks still smoking and slightly scorched, as though they had just been pulled from an oven and sat on a sill to cool.

    'Anyone else smell barbecued ribs?' Michael sniffed the air, his stomach rumbling with hunger.

    'Dude,' Urielle gestured to themselves, smirking while she caught her breath, as he hadn't realized he was smelling his own flesh.

    'Is that what we smell like?' he chuckled with a deep gulp of air. 'It's no wonder they wanna eat us.'

    'Where the hell are we, anyway?' asked Urielle as she attempted to clean herself up with a wet nap she was sure to stuff in her back pocket before she left.

    'Our final destination, of course.' replied the goddess. 'Do not hasten your mind, humans. We must take a moment to rest while we can. A safe space is a rarity, as you well know. There may not be another opportunity to prepare for what comes.'

    'Right.' she agreed, and they moved to a nearby stone and sat down, noting the lack of grass, but merely dirt shaped to look as such, as though someone had combed through the entire landscape and spiked every square inch. She reached forth and grabbed a handful, but it crumbled in her hand like moistened beach sand. 'Is nothing real here?'