The devil’s likeness unnerved Cedar, sending prickly sensations down her spine and triggering an unsettling urge to evacuate her bowels.

He’s the one who should be scared, Cedar assured herself.

She kept her eyes on him as she waded to shore, disregarding the clumps of dead jellies tangled in her hair. She felt utterly filthy and longed to strip off her clothes and peel away the leeches—because she was sure of it now: a large one had latched onto her lower back like a regrettable tramp stamp.

“She is my gift to you. Come. Have a taste,” the devil purred. Blood smeared his red lips as his long, forked tongue plunged into the woman’s open gash, teasing at her nerves and artery.

“Who in their right mind builds a home inside an active volcano?” Cedar asked, stepping out of the murky mire. She stood dripping, microbial organisms crawling up her sleeves, making her itch.

“Is it not to your liking?”

“No, it is not to my liking,” Cedar snapped, mimicking the devil’s haughty tone. Her hands, hidden from view, worked on a plan.

“You come into my home, you kill my pets, and when I offer you sustenance, you refuse it.” The devil let the woman’s limp arm drop as he squared his chest to Cedar. His voice turned deep and venomous. “Eat now, or you will watch your loved one die.”

“I prefer brunettes,” Cedar declared, unsheathing her dagger and hurling it at the blonde woman. The blade struck home, piercing the still-beating heart.

“Insolent!” the devil hissed.

All around, glowing eyes appeared in the shadows as nimble, dark figures slinked toward her.

“What, these guys again? Haven’t they learned yet?” Cedar scoffed as she unlatched her sword, grimacing at the inevitable fight.

“Eat the corpse or die,” the devil commanded.

“But I just brushed my teeth,” Cedar shot back, making the first move. Her blade sliced through one of the minions as easily as cutting bread, sending the rest skittering back.

“Perhaps my pet condor will change your mind.”

From behind Satan emerged a massive, feathered fiend, its thirty-foot wingspan unfurling dramatically. Its bald, wrinkled head, tinged in hues of rosy pink and purple, was framed by glossy black plumage. The creature looked like it had a lavish feathered boa draped over high shoulder pads.

One look at the monstrosity sent Cedar into hysterics. She doubled over, clutching her sides as she struggled to contain herself.

“What’s so funny?” Satan roared.

“It looks like . . . it looks like . . .” Cedar gasped for air between fits of laughter. Finally, she managed to blurt out, “a scrotum!”

The condor remained still, its beady, vacant eyes blinking as its head darted around, oblivious to the insult.

Cedar, unafraid of the consequences, grinned and asked the devil, “Trying to compensate for something, Satan?”

The devil’s eyes darkened. “Condor relishes feasting on my enhanced blood worm babies. I dare you to laugh at that.”

His lower jaw unhinged, dropping to just below his unnaturally large, bulbous belly button.

A red cloud of winged worms erupted from his throat, swarming straight for Cedar. The condor bobbed its head and took flight, trailing the buzzing flurry of insects.

Beside Cedar, a bright sphere of light materialized—a life, ready to be spent.

Thank you, Cedar thought. But hopefully, I won’t need you just yet.

The blood worms overwhelmed Cedar, their sheer numbers forcing her to the ground. She clenched her mouth shut as the worms gnawed at the exposed skin of her face and neck with their minuscule, needle-like teeth. To her horror, they didn’t merely bite—they burrowed, their wriggling bodies tunneling beneath her skin with an unbearable, squirming persistence.

The condor caught up with the swarm, its blade-like beak striking down in rapid, precise movements, resembling a sewing needle in action. It pecked relentlessly at the worms that clung to Cedar’s protective cloak, tearing through the writhing mass with sharp, mechanical efficiency.

Suddenly, the cave was bathed in a blinding flash of light.

“You should have feasted with me,” Satan’s deep, rumbling voice taunted. “Now, you must watch a loved one die.”

“S’il vous plaît, Madame, help!”

Cedar’s heart dropped. Alma—her cherished NPC chef—was strapped to a slow-moving conveyor belt. Just a few yards from her feet, a slanted, razor-sharp blade ascended the frame of a guillotine-like structure, slamming down in rhythmic, metallic thuds. Alma was seconds away from being sliced like deli meat, her fate a slow, agonizing demise.

“Alma!” Cedar screamed, her voice raw.

The tide of battle shifted as the minions closed ranks around Cedar, tightening their circle. They darted closer, their long, pointed nails swiping at her with unsettling glee.

“And that soul belongs to me,” Satan sneered. He turned to the bright sphere of energy hovering beside Cedar and inhaled it in one great, cavernous gulp.

A sudden wave of déjà vu washed over Cedar. The worms burrowing beneath her skin, Alma’s desperate cries for help, the massive bird’s beak jabbing at her—it all felt hauntingly familiar, as though she’d lived this exact moment before. A past life? A forgotten dream? The sensation gripped her for a fleeting second before slipping away, leaving her stunned.

Her mind went blank, wiped clean of fear and doubt. Cedar’s face hardened into a mask of indifference, her body entering an almost supernatural state of flow. There was no emotion, no hesitation—only focus. Her movements became precise and fluid, as though an external force now guided her actions.

Her hand found the last remaining magic orb in her deep cargo pocket. Unsure whether it contained ice or water, she didn’t hesitate. Wrapping her fingers around it, she squeezed until it shattered in her palm.

A cataclysmic surge of water erupted from the orb, flooding over Cedar and her attackers. The wave struck the minions like a wrecking ball, sending them sprawling like bowling pins. The condor staggered backward, its talons digging into the soaked ground for balance.

But before it could recover, Cedar acted. Still flat on her back, she thrust her sword upward into the condor’s chest, using the bird’s own weight and momentum to drive the blade deep.

The condor screeched in fury, its massive wings flapping as it lunged forward. Its snapping jaws loomed inches from Cedar’s face, the monstrous bird pressing down, forcing the blade deeper into its body. The length of the sword was the only thing keeping its dagger-like beak from skewering her.

Cedar braced the sword’s hilt against her chest with one hand, freeing the other to reach for her dagger. Thank you, Ari, she thought, grateful for the second blade.

“It’s close, Madame! Aidez-moi! Au secours!” Alma’s panicked cries echoed through the cave.

“I’m coming, Alma!”

Cedar left the sword buried in the condor’s chest and rolled away, breaking into a sprint toward Alma. The enraged bird lumbered after her, its powerful wings thrashing wildly, its cries echoing through the cavern. Behind it, the minions crept in its shadow, using the massive creature as a living shield.

“I’m here, Alma. I’m going to get you out of this, okay?”

“Oui, Madame, please hurry,” Alma pleaded, her voice trembling.

Cedar bent to cut the straps with her dagger. Strands of her hair, still tangled with dead jellies, fell into her eyes, but she ignored them. A bloodworm, having survived the earlier magic surge, slithered into a pore just below her eye. Cedar refused to acknowledge the nauseating sensation of its bottom half wriggling into her flesh and focused instead on the task at hand.

“Almost there, Alma.”

“Hurry, Madame,” Alma urged, panic thick in her voice.

The slicer slammed down again, the blade’s edge narrowly missing Alma’s toes.

“Just one more strap on this side,” Cedar muttered, slicing through the last binding. Her mind, operating on pure instinct, moved faster than her conscious thoughts. She licked her salty lips and held her breath as the blade descended once more, this time nicking a small slice from Alma’s left heel.

“Ayee! It got me, Madame,” Alma cried out, her voice tight with pain.

Cedar didn’t pause. As the blade ticked back up the scaffolding, she yanked on the frayed strap and severed the last thread. She threw herself onto Alma, rolling them both off the conveyor belt just as the blade came crashing down again.

By then, the condor and its mob of underlings were within striking range.

“Run!” Cedar yelled, shoving Alma toward an unoccupied corner of the cave. Alma hobbled away, clutching her injured foot. Two of the minions followed her, while the rest snarled and lunged at Cedar.

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Cedar met them head-on, slashing with her small blade. She flung the creatures off her as quickly as they climbed, her movements frantic yet precise. With every thrust and stab, she fought her way toward her second dagger, still embedded in the dead woman’s chest.

Once she retrieved it, now armed with both blades, the minions paused.

Cowards.

Cedar scanned the cavern, searching for Satan, but he was nowhere to be seen. He must have fled while she was battling the condor.

The massive bird staggered toward her, its movements slow and uncoordinated. Blood gushed from the wound in its chest, staining its sleek feathers. It squawked and squealed, its cries tinged with terror as it struggled under the weight of its own failing body.

Cedar seized the opportunity. With a swift lunge, she grabbed the sword still lodged in its chest. With one mighty yank, she pulled it free, spinning around just in time to hear Alma’s scream.

“Alma!”

“Here, Madame! Come quick!”

Cedar sprinted to the far corner where Alma was huddled, beset by two snarling minions. They clawed and bit at her, ripping through her skin with sadistic glee. Cedar dispatched them with ruthless efficiency before turning to face the rest, who dared not approach the blood-soaked, heaving maniac.

“Stay behind me, Alma.”

The condor let out one final, pitiful mewl before collapsing, its enormous body hitting the cavern floor with a dull thud. Around them, the remaining minions stood their ground, waiting for back-up. A legion of them filled the cavern, with more of them tunneling in.

Their ranks swelling to overwhelming numbers. The cavern walls seemed to writhe with movement as the hideous creatures poured in.

Cedar took a steadying breath, gripping her weapons tightly. Before the mob could fully organize, she began her assault.

One by one, the minions fell under her blades. Blood sprayed and pooled beneath her feet, turning the cavern floor into a slick, crimson swamp. The minions’ hairless, maroon bodies reminded her of oversized baby gerbils, their nubby horns and forked tails adding an unsettling demonic twist.

The ground became a charnel house as Cedar cut through the horde, dropping bodies as the legion continued their relentless assault. The lone bloodworm that had survived Cedar’s earlier water magic slithered under the skin of her cheek. She could feel it with her tongue—a thin membrane the only barrier keeping it from wriggling into her mouth. When the worm finally pierced the inside of her cheek, Cedar crunched down on it and spat it out.

“You doing okay back there, Alma?”

“Oui, Madame.”

More minions fell. Their bodies piled high, forcing Cedar to step on them. She could feel their brittle bones crumbling beneath her boots, like a baby bird’s that had fallen from their nest.

Time lost meaning as wave after wave of minions hurled themselves at Cedar. Her muscles burned with exertion as she moved on pure instinct. Her blades slicing and stabbing, her mind numb.

Is there no end to this?

Knee-deep in severed limbs and pooling blood, Cedar glanced at Alma. “We have to get out of here.”

“Oui, Madame. Lead the way.”

Cedar handed both daggers to Alma, keeping the sword for herself. Together, they followed the cave wall toward a tunnel exit, battling more minions with every step. Alma limped without complaint, her resolve as steadfast as Cedar’s determination to protect her.

The minions pursued them with unyielding ferocity, scrambling over each other in a mad frenzy. Cedar’s chest tightened as she watched them use their weaker kin as stepping stones. Snorts and snarls hemorrhaged from their squashed, wrinkled faces.

They were determined to wear her down. And it was working.

“A bridge, Madame,” Alma called, pointing ahead.

After what felt like miles in the suffocating tunnel, they finally emerged into a vast underground citadel. Satan’s throne room.

From their vantage point, Cedar could see the sheer enormity of the space. Jagged stalactites hung like cruel spikes from the vaulted ceiling, while fire-breathing bats the size of houses flitted among them. Below, a fiery hellscape sprawled endlessly, teeming with nightmarish creatures.

Cedar barely spared the view a glance. Minions were still snapping at their heels.

“Over the bridge, Alma—quick!” Cedar shouted.

Alma darted across the precarious structure while Cedar turned, holding the swarm at bay. Once Alma reached the other side, Cedar yelled, “Cut the ropes!”

Alma obeyed, severing the lines as Cedar fended off the bottleneck of minions. At last, the bridge gave way, tumbling into the molten lava below and dragging the last of the minions with it.

Cedar let out her first sigh of relief in what felt like hours. “Thank God. It’s over . . . almost . . . I hope.”

“Oui, Madame,” Alma said softly. “Merci. You saved moi.”

They stood together on a high peak overlooking the citadel’s sprawling platforms, which stretched down into a demonic valley. Hellish creatures of all kinds roamed the expanse, busy torturing damned souls, devouring them, or fighting amongst themselves.

At the valley’s lowest point sat Satan himself, perched on a gaudy throne that was equal parts circus and ostentatious. Though he was miles away, Cedar could swear he was staring directly at her.

She instinctively backed away from the ledge, shielding herself from his gaze. She didn’t like the look of it—the platforms. Was she to fight her way down on every level?

“No . . . No way.”

She knelt down in exhaustion and flinched as Alma sat beside her. Cedar’s eyes darted around, ensuring they were in a safe location. They were alone on the peak. The only way forward was to cross another bridge onto the highest main platform.

On the far side of the bridge, large devils loomed, their bulging forms seemingly made from a mixture of magma and ash. They busied themselves mangling prisoners with branding irons, their hellacious laughter echoing across the cavern. So far, they hadn’t noticed Cedar and Alma beyond the divide.

“I can’t. I can’t do it,” Cedar said, shaking her head. Her body felt like it had turned to stone. Pain permeated every muscle fiber. Her legs ached while she knelt, causing her to crumple to the ground.

“I can help, Madame.”

“No, Alma. What can you do?” Cedar motioned to the daggers Alma gripped in her hands. “You don’t even know how to hold those things.”

“Not with these, Madame. I’ll help feed you.”

Cedar’s eyes widened, “I’m not going to eat you.”

“No, no, not me,” Alma corrected. “Food. Any food. I can cook for you.” With a wave of her hand, she conjured a menu out of thin air.

“What? Seriously?” Cedar asked scanning the menu. “You’re telling me that you can whip up a five-course rack-of-lamb dinner for me, right now?”

“Oui, Madame. It is what I do.”

The menu listed health benefits beside each dish: some promoted healing and vitality, others boosted stamina and strength.

Cedar laughed, though the motion sent a cramp shooting through her side. “Let’s do it, then. Can we start with some water? Ice water, please?”

“Anything you wish, Madame.”

Cedar sampled a bit of everything. Perfectly seared ahi tuna to promote wellness, sushi rolls to enhance longevity, medium-rare steak for strength, and even a scoop of ice cream to boost intelligence. Although, the ice cream melted the moment it hit the bowl, its icy goodness gone by the time it reached her spoon.

Alma retrieved the food from a void-like opening that materialized in mid-air. Cedar stared at it, curiosity flickering through her mind.

“I wish I could crawl into that hole to escape this place,” Cedar said, half-joking. “What is it, anyway? Where’s the food coming from?”

“It’s the place of creation,” Alma replied. “All my abilities are stored inside. It is part of me.”

Cedar frowned, recalling how Ari had mentioned that NPC’s didn’t have a void. Clearly, Alma was an exception.

Questions began bubbling in Cedar’s mind as the ice cream’s promised intelligence boost took effect. “Would you say that’s your soul in there?”

Alma thought for a moment before answering. “If I were to define my soul as having a physical location, then oui. My soul—everything I am—is there inside. It makes me sad to think it’s separate from me, though. I don’t like to think about these things.”

“About what things?”

“Things I’ll never know the answers to, Madame,” Alma said quietly.

Cedar watched as Alma stacked the empty plates and glasses, returning them to her void with an effortless grace.

Maybe the void isn’t separate from her at all, Cedar thought. Maybe it exists everywhere, including within Alma.

And perhaps within Cedar, too. In a world where the line between reality and the unimaginable blurred, who was to say what was truly real?

The clinking of plates and glasses disrupted Cedar’s train of thought. She glanced down at her empty ice cream bowl, sensing that it was significant somehow, but she had yet to decipher its importance. She examined its craftsmanship, lifting it to her face and tapping its rim with her finger.

Porcelain.

“Hey, Alma, can you make anything with your void?”

“No, Madame, my skills are limited. I can only produce food items.”

“But what about the plates and utensils? Or that steak knife you gave me earlier?”

“All that pertains to food is included in . . . what do you call it . . . my void? When I learned how to cook steak to perfection, the void also provided a large plate and special utensils for serving,” Alma explained.

Cedar frowned thoughtfully. How could she use this to her advantage?

“Can you make a rope? A strong rope—maybe even made out of licorice? It doesn’t have to be licorice, but something sturdy enough to support my weight so I can lower myself to the bottom?”

Alma nodded, her expression turning solemn and focused. She reopened her void, reaching in to reveal the tip of a thick licorice rope.

“This has extra flour and molasses,” Alma said as she pulled more of it out. “I twirled thin strands together to make it strong.” She gave the rope a sharp tug, demonstrating its durability.

“That was fast,” Cedar remarked, taking the rope and giving it a few experimental pulls. “This is perfect. Thank you, Alma . . . you saved me. But is it long enough?”

“Oui, Madame. The void will provide as much length as you need,” Alma assured, gesturing to the void’s infinite depths.

Cedar began wrapping the rope around her waist, double-knotting it before looping it securely around her legs for added support.

“Can the void lower me down slowly? Is that possible?”

“Oui, Madame. I’ll make sure it lowers you gently.”

This is almost too easy, Cedar thought. There had to be more she could ask for.

“What about health potions? Magic balls? Do you have those, too?”

Alma shook her head apologetically. “No, Madame, I have not learned how to make potions or magic. Only food items.”

“Okay, what about extra bottles of water? Can I get four of those?”

“Oui, Madame,” Alma replied, bowing slightly before retrieving the requested bottles from the void.

Cedar stuffed two bottles into her back pockets and slid another two into the large side pockets. If she’d had more space, she might have considered stashing some down her pants.

“Can you make energy bars? Ones that restore health and stamina?”

“I can, Madame.”

Alma handed over a bundle of bars, which Cedar quickly tucked into every hidden pocket she could find, even sliding a few into her socks. She was beginning to look and feel like a walking supply closet.

“Alma, this is incredible. We’ll be able to kill this bastard with no problem,” Cedar said, her confidence growing.

Alma offered a faint smile. “You have all you need now, Madame.”

Cedar thought for a moment. “Can I have one more water bottle?”

Alma obliged, pulling another bottle from the void. Cedar twisted it open and poured the cool liquid over her head, letting it drench her.

“I think I’m ready. Are you ready?” Cedar asked, adjusting her gear. “Can you make yourself a licorice rope, or do you want to hitch a ride on mine?”

“No, Madame,” Alma said, her tone soft but firm. “You have already done so much for me. My journey ends here. Only you can move forward.”

“What? No, I’m not leaving you,” Cedar protested.

“It is not up to you,” Alma replied gently. “It is the will of the dungeon.”

“But what will you do? Where will you go?”

“I’ll return to my space. My void, as you call it. All will be well, Madame. I’ll be safe there.”

Cedar looked at Alma, struggling to find the words to express her gratitude.

“Alma . . . I couldn’t . . . I mean, if it weren’t for you, I’d be a goner.”

“No need to thank me,” Alma said with a small smile. “I am here to serve. I wouldn’t be here either, without your ’elp.”

Cedar pulled Alma into a tight embrace, wishing she could linger a little longer in this fleeting moment of safety. She cast a final glance around the peak, recognizing it as the citadel’s one true sanctuary. The fire-breathing bats soaring overhead seemed oblivious to their presence, and the brutish devils across the bridge were entirely absorbed in their torturous activities.

This was the perfect spot—not only the safest place to rest, but also the ideal position to rappel straight down to the bottom of the citadel, bypassing all the cascading platforms. It was an almost-too-perfect shortcut to the boss fight.

But just how high up were they?

“Can you hand me an empty plate, Alma?”

“Oui, Madame.”

Cedar took the porcelain plate and dropped it over the ledge, leaning forward to track its descent. She counted the seconds under her breath until the plate hit bottom.

“I think it was around twenty seconds,” Cedar guessed, “But I can’t be sure—I lost sight of it. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, Madame,” Alma replied thoughtfully. “I think it means we are up very high.”

Cedar sighed, positioning both feet on the ledge with her back facing the valley, ready to rappel down the pillars. She was plumb out of ways to procrastinate, facing the inevitable descent.

“I guess this is it, then. Goodbye, Alma. I’ll see you back home.”

“Oui, Madame, and please . . . kill that bastard for me, too.”