Prologue

‘Dirt’ was in pain. Tears freely flowed down his face, his arm in intense agony. Sobs wracked his body, as he laid curled up on the dirty mud ridden floor, waiting. Crying.

Waiting.

His arm was a mess. It was bloody, and broken, with bits of bone scattered across the floor. To call it an arm would be generosity, it was more of a pulpy, bloody mess. The fact that Dirt hadn’t fainted yet was a miracle.

Out of nowhere, a tenebrous force rushed along his veins, cooling his body as it flowed through it, bringing relief as it finally, finally, reached his mess of an arm, healing it. It was being consumed in this process, as it fixed his flesh and bones.

Dirt let out a whimper before rolling and lying on the floor, exhausted. Enough of the force remained that it was slowly channelled by Dirt into his core, somewhere near his navel. It lay there, cold and dark, gaseous, only felt by Dirt when he paid attention to it.

Sunlight shafted down through the window, lighting his face in bright yellow. Dust particles hung in the air, and dirt covered every single part of the walls of his little hut.

The hut had been built by someone long before Dirt, and he knew that once he died, someone else would come to claim it. That was the way of life here.

Here in hell, the place for the damned.

He lay there for a while, panting.

Then, struggling against the remnant pain, he got up, stumbling before righting himself. The hut was empty, save for himself, a wooden cot, and his sister.

His sister was currently lying on the cot, whimpering in pain, her eyes unfocused. Her flesh protruded unnaturally in certain places, before settling back. It was horrifying to watch.

Damn it. He cursed internally, stumbling over to her. She needed medicine for the pain, and he was freshly out. Regardless, he’d have to feed her.

Stretching his hand out, he placed it on her forehead. Willing the dark force to move, he channelled some of it into her, making it flow and rejuvenate.

As it flowed through her, it was consumed, nourishing her body.

Finished, he stepped back, and let the rest of the force flow back into his core.

People called this force ‘sorrow’. It was gained through pain, sadness or both. A fitting name, he thought.

Stretching his neck, he adjusted the brown rags over him. He’d have to scrounge up some more clothes. Or make them himself. Somehow.

He turned around, then walked over to the door. The bright sun outside was a sharp contrast to the melancholy that hung over this place.

Outside, he could see people slumped over the ruins of buildings, or laid out across the dirty street. Moaning reached his ears, moans of pain. Of starvation.

 One looked up at him, and he stared back, eyes hard.

The other person slumped his head down, cowed. These people had given up, just wanting their lives to end. It never worked out for them though; the starvation was always too much to bear, and they involuntarily consumed sorrow to abate it. A sick sort of non-life, something that was all too common here.

Turning away, he made his way down the cracked cobblestones of the ruined street. He wasn’t too scared of leaving his sister there alone, no one there bothered to cross him, besides which there was nothing to gain from a disabled and disfigured person suffering from some cruel fate of the heavens. And that was exactly what his sister was right now. Disabled. And disfigured.

Sadness filled him, but not enough for sorrow to enter his core. He continued walking, making his way across the ruins to where he could find the herbs to treat his sister’s pain. It was the least he could do.

As he walked, he could see the huge wall rising in the distance. He knew it circled around hell, walling off the damned from the rest of the world. What he was damned for, he did not know. Neither did most of hell’s denizens.

Beyond the wall was a sight that never failed to awe him. A humongous city, floating in the air, on a circular piece of land. Spires towered into the clouds, golden palaces shone in the bright light, and the white brick of most of the buildings gave it an almost divine glow.

A city of angels. The city of angels, if most people were to be believed. But he always did wonder. Surely there was a wide world out there, beyond the tall walls? Or perhaps this was the entire world, ending at the tall mountains that rose in the distance. He didn’t know.

But he wanted to.

Suddenly, there was a keening shriek. A horrible sound, one punctuated by the force of sorrow it emanated.

Dirt stopped, but instinct kicked in.

The world slowed down, his heart thundering in his chest. Fear boiled within him, culminating in a whimper that escaped his mouth.

And he knew he had to get out of here.

He dashed madly, feet thundering against the stones, as he rushed past people similarly trying to escape.

Trying to escape from the monstrosity that was forming behind them.

Dirt glanced back, and what he saw made his stomach drop further.

On the street was a man, if he could still be called that, screaming in pain. Protrusions erupted from his body, but unlike that of his sister’s, the flesh didn’t reset. The man just stood there, looking like a horrifying amalgamation of a porcupine and human.

Running, he could feel the wave of sorrow hitting him, almost making him fall. Some of the people around him did fall, scrambling madly to get back on their feet and continuing to run.

Unfortunately, some of those in the back weren’t so lucky. Looking back, Dirt could see the monster leaping unnaturally high into the air, and then slamming down onto a poor unlucky soul, breaking the man’s spine with its foot as it did so. The light went out of the man’s eyes immediately, and the monster looked around for more prey.

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Dirt could have sworn it looked at him straight in the eyes before he disappeared around a corner, out of sight from the monster’s baleful glare.

He continued running for a while until he was certain he had gotten away from the monster, before leaning against a wall, gasping for breath. He held his head in his arms, wheezing, until he finally slumped down on the street.

This was bad. He needed to get the medicine for his sister, but now he could hardly move, with a monster lurking around the area. He cursed his luck as his breathing slowed down to a reasonable level. He could only hope the angels would arrive soon to get rid of the monster, they always had some way of knowing when one appeared.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like they knew exactly where it could be, though. He’d had a few situations like this, it took a while for the angels to find the monster, usually from the destruction it caused. He’d always managed to get away, though. But he didn’t like the look the monster had given him. That had never happened before.

Shaking his head, he slowly got up to his feet, and decided he would go home for now. At least until the angels dealt with the problem. It was safer inside the buildings, although not by much.

Dirt walked through the empty street, turning to face an alleyway that would lead him closer to his home.

And came face to face with the monster. It was covered in the soft, dark smoke of sorrow.

He stared dumbly, not understanding.

The monster moved. A flash of darkness, and Dirt was lying on the ground, his back a fountain of fresh pain. A trickle of sorrow entered him, but there was nothing he could do as the monster picked him by the leg and threw him.

He crashed painfully against a wall, and almost blacked out, before circulating his sorrow through his body, which healed his flesh, if not fully.

He needed to run. He wanted to scream.

He didn’t have time for any of that. The moment the pain abated, he felt the monster appear next to him, raising a hand to strike him down. He could see the glee on its disfigured face, filled with spikes that were now turning black. Dirt knew he was going to die.

He just reacted. There was nothing more that could be said to explain it, Dirt instinctively used sorrow. A cold rush filled him, and his senses sharpened.

He could see the first coming down, slowed down. He could feel the trajectory, he could react.

And so he did.

He moved his head just in time as the punch landed on the stone, cracking it. Before the monster even had time to be surprised, he twisted out of the way, getting to his feet and running, now with a speed that surpassed normal human limits. The wind rushed by him, whipping his hair back.

He didn’t know the first thing of what was happening, but he was too scared to think about it.

And then it stopped. He hadn’t even realised his sorrow had run out, and he crashed on the ground, his knees and arms scraping, bleeding. He managed to protect his head with his hands, but he knew it didn’t matter. People were around him now, and they were running away, screaming. With building dread, he waited on the street, too tired to even move. He could feel the damn monster approach him slowly, sorrow wafting off it on strong waves that left his body shuddering.

He was spent. There was something about him that enticed the damn monster, and he didn’t know what. He was getting quite angry at his own ignorance when the monster appeared over him, hideous as always.

Dirt closed his eyes. There was nothing else he could do.

Just when he was about to let out a cry as the anticipation reached unbearable levels, he felt it.

An aura unlike anything else in this dreadful place. Warm, powerful, reassuring.

Holding a hint of danger. A deadly promise. There was a loud sound, and a rush of air.

Dirt opened his eyes, and he saw that the monster was no longer over him. Instead, he saw the majestic being that was floating in the air above him.

Long golden hair. Brilliant blue eyes. Sharp cheekbones. Long, flowing white robes unblemished by dirt. An aura of absolute power.

An angel.

The sight left him in awe, as it always did. The people in hell worshipped them, and for good reason.

Growling from the ruins of a building in front of him woke him up to reality. The monster wasn’t dead, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be here, not when a fight between an angel and a monster was about to go down.

Not that it could be called a fight, according to some of the braver denizens who had witnessed such fights. It was more of an elimination, the angel clearly superior, but it still left the surrounding area damaged.

 And surrounding people dead.

Scrambling to his feet, he turned around and ran as fast as his exhausted legs could carry him. The growling behind him intensified, and he hoped he’d be far enough away that whatever happened wouldn’t affect him.

Unfortunately for him however, luck did not seem to be on his side today. As a loud explosion rattled the ground, he felt a sharp pain piercing his abdomen, and gasped. Looking down, he could see blood seeping from a wound left by a tiny rock fragment that had flown down the street due to the explosion. He clutched a hand against the wound.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he continued on, determined to get as far away from the scene of battle as he could. The pain intensified, but sorrow did not fill his core as usual.

 Sorrow was tricky like that. After hurting for a while, pain refused to help refill his core. Only after resting did pain help again.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t rest now, and he was hurt. Possibly dying, even. He’d come close to dying a few times in hell, it had never been a pleasant experience.

He ran. For how long, he did not know. He ran until he collapsed, heaving, as blood ran freely down his side. This part of the street, there was no one here. He was alone, as blood pooled on the mud caked ground, seeping through his fingers.

He was dying. He knew this in his bones, and it left him cold, afraid. The blood was leaving him, and he didn’t have the energy to clench harder against the wound. Tears filled his eyes as he thought about death. Panicking wasn’t helping, his heart thumping faster, blood pooling quicker. But he couldn’t help it.

His sister would be in a world of pain without him helping her with the herbs. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to leave her behind.

Sadness was a constant in hell. But this time, tears overwhelmed him as he sobbed, snot running down his nose.

He didn’t want to die. Goddammit, he didn't want to die.

Something broke inside of him. Sorrow rushed into his core, straining the boundaries. His wound healed in a flash, the stone fragment being violently pushed out. Stunned, he couldn’t move as the sorrow raged in his veins, until it all condensed inside his core, while simultaneously strengthening it.

Something inside him stirred, and he felt his flesh wriggle. Terrified, he watched as protrusions erupted around his body, the pain almost unbearable. He clenched his eyes shut, groaning, as spikes formed, sorrow erupting in waves.

It was scary. Gods damned scary. He felt his mind slipping as his body turned – turned into a monster.

Eyes shut tight, he struggled. He’d just made it out alive, he wasn’t going to turn into a damn monster, of all things.

He was going to make it through this. He would not go insane. So he struggled.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, fighting a battle he was slowly, ever so slowly winning. He just knew that he had to supress it. He had to rein in his mind. He had to win.

It was agonizing.

Finally, it stopped. The change was so sudden, it left Dirt stunned. He lay on the dirty blood filled street, panting, as he realised all the protrusions had vanished.

He....He’d won. He smiled, for once feeling relief that had been so out of reach for a while. He’d wo-

“Well, that’s a first.”

The sudden voice shook him out of his revelry, and he sat up rapidly, his speed surprising him. His body moved different now.

Standing over him was an angel. Not the same one that had fought the monster, this one looked...surprisingly normal. Black hair, black eyes, fair skin and a brown cloak. He didn’t exude the same aura as the other angel, his was more subdued. Hidden.

But it was still there, Dirt felt. Like the angel’s power was so strong that he had trouble suppressing it. A dangerous edge hung over him. That’s how Dirt knew. That’s how he knew the person in front of him was an angel.

Dirt should have felt scared. By all means, he had almost turned into a monster, something the angels were so eager to kill. But he hadn’t. He didn’t know what that meant for him.

Yes, he should have felt scared. But so much had happened in this one day that he felt...jaded. He was done. He needed rest.

The angel looked around the empty area, thinking. Dirt watched him as he seemed to come to a decision.

“Yes, I suppose you’ll do nicely”, the angel said.

Dirt was about to ask what he meant when the angel blurred.

‘Dirt’ blacked out.

***

Wind blew harshly against a lone figure dressed in black, cloak billowing. Standing on a cliff overlooking hell, he was gazing down.

His lips curled slowly into a smile.

A flash of purple light, and he disappeared.