"𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝘿 𝙄𝙎 𝙄𝙏𝙎 𝙊𝙒𝙉 𝙋𝙇𝘼𝘾𝙀,
𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙄𝙉 𝙄𝙏𝙎𝙀𝙇𝙁 𝘾𝘼𝙉 𝙈𝘼𝙆𝙀
𝘼 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙉 𝙊𝙁 𝙃𝙀𝙇𝙇,
𝘼 𝙃𝙀𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙉."
~ John Milton
(Paradise Lost)
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The train had left him at a stop that did not exist. The boy did not think much of it when the train suddenly closed in on unfamiliar grounds, halting to a stop with a creaking sound. But everything had been peculiar about the environment; from the way the tree branches outside the windows twisted and writhed like wretched limbs, to the bizarre buzzing and unfamiliar vibrations in the air that seemed to rumble inside the boy's cranium. The carriage was completely empty. The smell of burnt flesh resided in the air, stinging his nostrils, and in his mouth emerged a taste of iron. Not sure what to think of the mysterious place, he inched closer to his beloved furry companion in order to keep calm. The silence prolonged in the vibrating air as the boy scanned his surroundings. Maybe it was a mistake to escape after all. But what could he do? Stay and be crucified for his crimes, or run away and possibly evade the circumstances?
"This is the final destination, sir". A peculiar voice boomed inside the train carriage. Something felt very out of place about it... it had a hollowness that did not feel right. It was as if the voice came from inside his head rather than his surroundings. Yet, it sounded comforting, like the voice his grandfather had used when showing off his various ring and coin collections, each assortment of gleaming objects more lustrous than the other. He could see the kind twinkle in the old man's narrow, grey eyes before him which made his eyelids sting with tears. These fond memories filled the boy's chest with warmth and wistfulness. But he could not go back. He clenched his fists and watched as his white flesh outlined the bones of his knuckles. With a shaky breath he concluded that it was all left behind, and he could only move forward from now on.
"It is time for you to exit the train", the man announced with a solemn voice, still as soothing as before. The boy awoke from his trip down memory lane, and finally looked up to the man. The small sliver of warmth he felt before had instantly disappeared. The man's features did not match his voice at all, the boy realized. The man felt like a transparent entity within normal clothing, as if black smoke had manifested as a human-like creature. He was there... but he was not really there. Thoughts raced in the boy's head as he tried to make sense of this apparition before him. What was this? Is this yet another of his countless nightmares? Would he ever escape them? Was this perhaps the train conductor? Should he run as fast as possible from... this? But when the boy looked in to the (presumed to be) conductor's eyes, he started to feel the same warmth he had felt with his grandfather. Before the incident. Before the appalling, terrible incident. Maybe it was for the best to escape after all, for the mind is a prison.
"Welcome to your new home, Lycus. " The boy's eyes widened in astonishment. He had never seen this... entity before in his life. Yet he knew his name. The boy did not know whether to be frightened or amazed, but he could not control the chills running like dead fingers down his back. Fingers, shaped like the writhing branches of the dead trees outside. Everything felt dead, and it should not. Something was not right. Amon whimpered in the boy's arms. But Lycus could not avert his gaze from those enthralling eyes. And the abyss stared back at him, for the boy did not remark on the fact that two pitch black holes gaped where the eyes were supposed to be. On second thought, almost everything with the conductor's visage was in some way wrong. Almost every single facial characteristic deviated from a typical countenance; the nose seemed shriveled, revealing two black pits, and the thin lips receded from the teeth, tapering over a set of sharp ivory teeth. A putrid stench escaped from his mouth, reminding Lycus of the all too familiar smell of rotting carcasses. But we were all supposed to be or act a certain way, is not that right? To him this man looked like any other gentleman he would observe through the dusty glass block windows of his father's work shop, dressed in fine frock coats, waistcoats, and dress shirts with round club collars, along with bowler hats which his father had loved. He could still sense the smell of iron and leather lingering in the air while he used to sit leaning toward the cool glass. However, the shape of the glass used to alter the refraction of light, turning the people outside into contorted shapes rather than human beings, which Lycus thought of as silly at the time. Now it felt accurate, as if he saw the true nature of this world. He could still feel the crumbling wallpaper against his back, and how he had to shake off the fragments of wallpaper every time he left his spot. But now he felt as if he was the one crumbling, disintegrating just like that decaying wallpaper rubbing against his back any time he sat by the window. And someone had to brush him aside soon, to pulverize him between their fingers and then disperse the fragments on the ground like ashes.
"Son of Azazel, nephilim, bringer of calamities. It is a pleasure to encounter thee!", the man announced. His arms shot out at his sides in a welcoming stance. Lycus had expected some rumbling sound to emerge as he did that, but all he heard was total silence. He soon realized that everything was too quiet; he could not hear a trace of any people, animals, or even the wind.
"Who are you? And where am I?", Lycus asked after finally gathering the courage to speak. He awakened from his trance-like state and finally realized how dreadfully afraid he was. Something pulled in his stomach as if he was looking down from extreme heights, imagining the terrifying view from half below. Perhaps he had jumped this time, and was viewing the ground in mid air.
"Surely you must know. For I am Charon, the train conductor. I transfer people to a new home, where they can be their true selves. Your ride is my treat. Now exit the carriage, will you. I must travel further." Lycus was almost taken aback by his nonchalant manners. First the peculiar formal greeting, as if Lycus was the ruler of the world, and now the laid-back and friendly demeanor. And who the hell was Azazel? 'Bringer of calamities'? The only calamity Lycus had achieved was... well, now that he thought of it, he did after all do that. 'Bringer of unspeakable things' was more like it. Trying to avert his train of thought, Lycus finally exited the train carriage along with Amon in his trails, and inspected his surroundings. A cold breeze entered his thin tunic, but he felt numb to it. There was an enticing beauty about the place, even though most of the vegetation, ground, and even the air felt... dead. Sort of like observing a dead person in a casket embellished with gleaming, gold edges, and flowers of all sorts placed among the corpse. They might look like they have fallen into a temporary slumber, but in real life that slumber is eternal, for they are one with the dead. Humans had a habit of glamorizing the dead, and this place felt just like that: glamorized, as if the beauty was there to veil the true nature of the place. Perhaps there was something horrendous lurking behind the grandeur of the gleaming white mountains and the cerulean sky. It was the middle of August after all. Yet the landscape was frozen and frigid, with a smokey scent chilling the nostrils of Lycus' nose. He puffed out a cloud of white fog as he prepared to speak, but nothing left his lips. And there was, after all, no one to speak to besides Amon, who only communicated through barks and whimpers.
The only place the boy could go to was toward the dubiously convenient building. It sort of looked like a hotel, the difference being its location in the middle of nowhere. The building, surrounded by coiled black gates, seemed to speak to him. There was after all nowhere else to go; for beyond the white mountains there seemed to exist nothingness. And he was not allowed back home, for he was eternally condemned to loneliness. Perhaps someone there could help him at least get somewhere. As the boy approached the main entrance he saw the tall building clearer. It seemed to, with its majestic and impressive height, surpass the vault of heaven above. He had never seen a building this tall in his entire life. Nor a garden as tragically beautiful as this. Statues with woeful expressions were scattered around white, snow-covered grounds. And what could the word 'Pandemonium' mean, written on a sign above the front door? All he knew was that it would be revealed soon.
The interior of the hotel, which for the record was called 'Hotel Pandemonium', was as dubiously welcoming as the exterior. Paneled walnut wainscoting covered the bottom half of the vast room, and elaborate chandeliers hung from the ceiling framed with ornamental crown moulding. Large, rectangular glass windows illuminated the room and gave a marvelous view of the outdoors. The walls were adorned with elaborate floral patterns, which upon closer inspection depicted snakes and what looked like poison ivy. His father had helped him identify the poisonous plant, but Lycus had in the end failed to recognize the kind of poison that did not cause rashes and hives, but ate him up from the inside out, leaving only an empty shell of a being. Looking down at his hands, he thought to himself how he was his own biggest tormentor. We all were our own biggest tormentors. It was the consequence of existence.
An inviting fire was crackling in the fireplace opposite if the receptionist, and Lycus soon saw the large glass cage containing a slithering animal. Did the people here love snakes that much? It took some time for him to also register the people in the room, who were gathered around as if they were awaiting their execution. A woman stood before the counter as the receptionist brought the snake out of its cage. The slithering beast wrapped its elongated body around the woman one, two... four times. Then its movements ceased.
"Four! It is concluded. You shall be transported to the fourth floor!", the man exclaimed. The woman, apathetic in demeanor, accepted his comment and started moving towards what looked like an elevator next to the counter. Gold plating framed the entrance to it, and the woman soon disappeared through the doors. Lycus had never seen the invention with his own eyes before, he had only heard of how it was first installed at a department store in New York in 1857. His father would have been a young man at that time. It is a shame how time passes.
"Greetings", a snakelike voice suddenly called. Lycus had not noticed that the man behind the counter had turned his attention to him. A vipery grin played upon the man's face as Lycus approached the receptionist.
"I am King Minos, guardian of the gates and judge of the damned. Reveal to me thine sins and I shall sentence you to a suitable fate", he continued.
"Pardon me sir, but where am I exactly?" The man's smile suddenly disappeared. He was overcome with some sort of realization.
"Son of Azazel! I ask for thy forgiveness! We were told thou would arrive here later. That damned, scythe-bearing conductor!" Lycus was taken aback. That angelic name again.
"No need to, sir." Lycus then pondered vigorously, trying to figure out where he was and why he was treated with so much respect as the man showered him with apologies. He could not help but feel... content, almost. A feeling he had not felt in a long time. Maybe he would stay here.
"Well..." he cleared his throat briefly. "What can I help thou with?"
"Er... Where am I exactly? And who is this Azazel you speak of, sir?", Lycus hesitated. He had too many questions but tried to contain himself and not ask too much. He suspected that asking too much would get him into trouble; it always had. Once he had asked his mother why the Lord was seen as the protagonist of the bible when all He did was bring death and destruction unto the people. The answer to that was a stinging sensation of the right hand to the cheek and a look in the eyes that said "god hates you, as do I". Thus the overall answer had been "do not ask any questions lest you want to be punished for thy curiosity".
"Well, for a start, this is Hotel Pandemonium young ruler! Home of the wicked! Thou are the offspring of a gloriously beautiful angel, child. The source of human corruption, a sympathizer of the Morning Star. You have been summoned to rule your own kingdom, evidently due to your lineage. Your life among the living humans has come to an end, and you shall rise! Anyways, here is your key. Have a nice stay", he added with a cheeky smile. Lycus had even more questions than ever. He had to bite his own tongue in order to stay silent, and soon he tasted the familiar metallic flavor of blood. Fallen angel, corruption, morning star. A kingdom? The boy had troubles controlling his own dog, let alone an entire kingdom. Amon seemed to have read his thoughts and let out a soft bark.
"Sir I think you are mistaken." Lycus sounded more and more impatient. "I am unworthy of such responsibilities! I am but a mere lower class child, with blood on my hands. A filthy, impious child!", the boy exclaimed, suddenly overcome with an inexplicable anger. He had been shamed his entire life for reasons unknown, and now he was expected to just accept everyone kneeling before him? Was this another of life's cruel antics?
"And why do you think you have been brought here?"
What Lycus had not realized was that he was in a very special place. A place humanity had feared since the dawn of time, but which to Lycus already felt like home. Because he belonged there, just as his mother had blurted out while taking her last breaths. Just as he had been told his whole life, by everyone. Everyone except his dear grandfather.
"You are on infernal grounds, child", the man finally revealed. "Welcome to hell."