Naphal trudged through the swamp again, going the opposite direction from where she went before, now brandishing horns as a weapon instead of her now bloodstained daggers. Every part of her body ached; she could feel bruises form where his knee struck her abdomen, her nose bent and filled with the stench of her own blood, her vision blurred from where his fists had met her eye. It was safe to say she was a bit worse for wear, but here she was, trekking back through the boggy marsh, just hoping to make it to the other side.
Much to her delight, however, her walk was rather uneventful, at least compared to the last couple hours of her life. The only noises she heard were her own labored breaths and her feet sloshing in the damp ground below. Once she made it through the thick line of trees, she knew she was home free, seeing the silhouette of the ferry waiting for her at the river bank. She approached it hesitantly until she saw the shadow of Charon’s signature hat, which made her go faster.
Finally, she was there, standing on the moorish ground that made up the Styx’s levee.
“There you are!” The ferryman sang when she saw Naphal’s face, “I’ve been waiting here for a bit now.”
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, dear. I can always get a bigger boat.”
The assassin laughed slightly, “A bigger boat?”
“For the buildup of souls that have accumulated at the dock since I left. There must be several of the poor things waiting on me to take them to their fates.”
“Then I guess we should get going.”
“Say, you don’t look so good, dear. Would you like anything? Tea? Bandages?”
“I’ll be fine.” Naphal lied.
“Are you sure?”
There was a silence between them for a second, “Yeah.”
“Alright then. Let’s get you out of this nasty old swamp.”
The assassin took a seat in the back of the canoe, sitting across from Charon while she began to paddle away from the marsh’s shore. Naphal’s mind was simultaneously empty and exceedingly full, her thoughts peppered with memories of the man’s bleeding corpse, his minion’s cries, his final smile…
“How’d your mission go?” The ferryman asked, breaking her rumination.
“Oh.”
“Hmm?”
“It went well.”
“I assume he’s…?”
Naphal placed the horns on the ferry’s floor, “Yes.”
“Congratulations.”
“Why are you congratulating me?”
“You finally got it done, that’s why! What were we? Zero for seven? Eight? I’m proud of you.” She sighed a bit, “And it looks like he didn’t go down without a fight either.”
“No.”
The assassin once again looked down at her crimson daggers, those horrid thoughts beginning again, his face filing her mind. Her feet felt sticky, like she was standing in his fresh gore once more. She placed her knife in the water, watching the blood and bone fragments wash away in the river’s tide, reverting it back to its normal silvery color, though a bit dimmer than usual. She sheathed them back into her belt, watching the swamp dissipate into the normal colors of hell, her skin feeling the heat of hellfire once again. It comforted her some, knowing she was somewhere more recognizable as home.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like to have to kill people all the time.” Charon hummed, “It would make me want to curl up and cry.”
“It’s disheartening, sometimes.”
“You’re a braver soul than me. I think this job is stressful.”
“It must be, trying to fight nature itself just to get the damned across the river and all. I’d imagine that to be difficult.”
The ferryman blushed a bit, “Why, thank you. You know, I don’t exactly get credit.”
“I usually don’t either. I’m not one of the top assassins.”
“Then why’d you get sent out for this mission?”
Naphal paused for a moment, pondering the question, the words of the dead elder echoing through her empty headspace, “I have no clue. The only person who knows is Lucifer.”
“I’m sure you can get it out of her, just remember that it takes a couple drinks first.”
The assassin chuckled, her mouth muscles barely contorting a smile, “I’ll remember.”
The dock soon began to come back into view, Charon slowing her movement as she approached the boat’s anchoring point. Once they made it to the dingy piece of wood, the ferryman tied the canoe to a metal post that shot up from underneath it. Naphal stood up from her seat, holding on for dear life as the old thing rocked like a broken chair. She grabbed Mephistopheles’ horns from the floorboard and stepped onto the dock itself, the psychopomp not far behind her.
“Are you sure you don’t need anything, dear? It must be a long journey back for you.”
“Charon, I’ll be fine.”
“I have some coffee in my mug if you want it-“
Naphal put her hand up, “I’m fine.”
“Alright… be safe, Naphal.”
“I will, I promise.”
The assassin watched as Charon walked off the dock and towards the crowd of awaiting souls, asking for penance and leading the ones who paid down the river’s bank. Naphal stood there for a few minutes, her mind taking a rest while the heat of the nearby hellfires warmed her. She placed the jagged old horns in her belt and began her trek back to the capital on foot, though she didn’t exactly want to go back home.
Her walk was arduous and lonely, the only sights to see being the crimson sand beneath her feet and towering flumes of flame rising in the distance. Her thoughts were the only thing to keep her company, and they weren’t exactly the most pleasant company to keep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, his smile, the color from his skin draining as he laid beneath her feet. When she looked down, she saw the sea of blood spewing from his wound, coloring her dagger and sticking to her shoe.
The thoughts waylaid her mind, filling every inch of it with dread. She wished it would go away, but no matter how hard she tried, it never did, sticking to her as tight as superglue. She wondered when the walk would be over already, even though it had just begun. Her headspace was so consumed by it that she began to feel the effects in her body; her hands became slimy, her throat turned to a desert mound. Naphal could hear her heart boom in her chest like it was about to burst.
There were some comforts, though. She could feel both the heat of the fire and the chill of water meet in the middle of where she stood. There was a nearby town, maybe she could stop, get some rest. But then, she saw something, something familiar. It didn’t stand out to her immediately, in fact, it blended in more than anything. As she gave it a double take, however, she began to realize exactly what it was.
To most, it looked like the entrance to a nondescript cave, just another cavern in the mountains of hell, maybe home to a creature or two, but she recognized this pothole. Naphal approached it slowly, trying her best to not be heard. She got closer, beginning to see the signs of an unmarked door, not too dissimilar from the one in front of the palace she saw in the swamp. It was unnumbered, featureless, bland, whatever word you want to use. The assassin could hear noise coming through the rock wall, talking, laughing, the clattering of silverware. She laughed a bit to herself, it was so weird to think about this place being… alive.
Naphal knocked on the door quietly, a familiar voice moving around and speaking as it got closer.
“I’ll get it.” She heard through the muffling walls.
The pattering of footsteps began to approach the unmarked door, another burst of laughter echoing through the wood as the doorknob rattled from the inside, the aperture opening to reveal the reaper standing between its entryway, wearing a proud smile on her face.
“How may I-“ She stopped when she saw Naphal at the door, “Naphal? What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Azrael.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
The assassin faked a chuckle, “I was in the area, and I thought I’d pay you a visit.”
“I see.” The fallen angel looked up at the girl who stood in front of her, her nose still dripping blood, her eye beginning to swell. “I assume your mission went well.”
“I… don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh. I thought you came here to gloat.”
“No, I just came to see what was going on in the world while I was gone.”
Azrael mustered a concerned smile, “It was only for a few hours.”
“A lot can change in a couple of seconds, let alone hours.”
“I guess you’re right.”
Naphal stood in silence for a second, waiting to see if the reaper would speak again, which she didn’t.
“Can I come in? It’s a bit unpleasant out here.”
“Me and Ares have a visitor, but-“
“Please…”
The reaper huffed, “Naphal, I-“
“What’s going on up here?” A new voice entered the fray, loud and proud of it. She was a woman that Naphal had never met before, with short maroon hair and long black horns that curled over her head. She was lean, yet muscular, wearing a short black dress and stockings that went up to her thighs. She looked at Azrael with a toothy smile. “Well?”
The woman’s eyes moved over to Naphal, her smile fading into a concerned frown, “What happened to you? You look like you got hit by a train.”
“Ares.”
“What? I mean, look at her! She looks like one of Roxy’s victims.”
“Victims?” Naphal asked quietly.
“It’s a joke.” Azrael responded bluntly.
“Oh.”
“Anyway, what happened to you?”
“I…”
The reaper placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, “Ares, can we talk about this somewhere else?”
“Why? Are you afraid she’s gonna jump out at us?”
“No, but I know this girl, and-“
“If you know her, then at least let her in, Azzy. It’s rude to just leave someone standing out here.”
“We already have a visitor.”
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Ares waved her hand, “Roxy won’t care! Besides, we always have room for one more.”
The demon grabbed Naphal’s hand, yanking her inside the cave and slamming the wooden door behind her. Azrael sighed the whole time as her partner sat the assassin down on the couch next to another stranger, taking the other demon into the kitchen.
“How ya doin’?” She asked nonchalantly, a billow of smoke leaving her lips. She was tall, with fiery red hair stretching down to her tailbone, and white horns that were covered in spikes. She wore a crop-top shirt that showcased her abundant muscles and a wide belt that stretched around her waist, a massive ring of keys neatly clipped to it.
“I’m… fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I am.”
The new demon hummed, “Say… don’t I know you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I think I see you around the palace sometimes. You’re the assassin, right?”
Naphal couldn’t bring herself to lie, “Yes.”
“That’s it! I didn’t recognize you with all those cuts and bruises, it must've been a tough job.”
“It was.”
“Ouch. Seen plenty of those.”
“You were an assassin?”
The woman laughed, a flume of fire exiting her mouth as she did so, “No, but I have plenty of friends that were. They always came back looking like you do right now, all beat up and tired. Made me wonder if they even liked doing it.”
Naphal sat in awe of the flame, willfully ignoring the woman’s previous statement. “You’re the firebreather.”
“The one and only! My name’s Roxy, don’t wear it out.”
“Mine is Naphal.”
“Naphal… sounds familiar, I think I remember Miss Lucifer talking about you. I don’t really pay any attention.”
“I think you would want to pay attention when the queen speaks.”
Roxy’s face twisted into a glare, causing Naphal to recoil. “What’re you gonna do? Tattle on me?”
“No…”
The firebreather laughed again, this time with just smoke, “I’m just messing with ya! I ain’t gonna hurt you unless you go after me first.”
“That’s very reassuring.”
“Well, y’know, I try.” Roxy’s eyes then caught a glance at the horns sticking up from the assassin's pocket, “What’re those?”
“What?”
“You’ve got horns in your pants.”
Naphal’s face turned beet red, “Oh, those.”
“Yeah. Those. Where’re they from?“
“Uhm…”
“Come on, assassin girl, you can tell me. I won’t tell anybody… well, anybody important.”
“Everyone who’s important already knows.”
The firebreather grinned, “Ooh, a secret mission, huh? Must’ve been fun.”
“I…”
“Roxy, stop harassing her.” Azrael spoke as she entered the room, her partner not far behind.
“Aw, c’mon, I ain’t harassing her. I’m just asking her what those horns are for.”
The reaper looked down at Naphal, seeing the horns stick up from her pocket, “Whose horns are those?”
“Why must everyone ask questions?”
“We’re just curious.” The firebreather sang.
The assassin let out a heavy sigh, pulling the antlers out of her pocket and handing them to Roxy, who looked them over with awe. Naphal sat in silence, watching the woman caress them softly, the sounds of laughter echoing through the cave as the firebreather began to maniacally howl, her face teeming with joy as she stared at the horns for a few moments longer.
“Ding dong, the witch is dead! Right, Azzy?”
Azrael didn’t respond, her eyes locked on the horns that rested in her friend’s hands.
“Azzy?”
“Give me those.”
Roxy handed the antlers to the reaper, who held them so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Ares walked up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Az, I-“
“I knew that old bastard would get his due, I just didn’t know when.”
“I know.” The former war goddess put her own hand on one of the horns, “Here, why don’t we let go of those?”
“Do you need these?” Azrael looked up, staring straight at Naphal.
“Hmm?”
“Do. you. need. these?”
“Her majesty wants them for a trophy.”
The fallen angel stared at them for a second longer before handing them back to the assassin, running a hand through her hair as she stepped back into the kitchen, Ares quickly following her.
“Tch.” Roxy scoffed, “What’s wrong with her?”
Naphal gave her a death glare before standing up from the couch, walking into the kitchen to see the stranger comforting her friend, Azrael’s back instinctively turned away from the doorway. Ares wrapped her arms tightly around the reaper, holding her body as the angel rested her head against her shoulder, barely keeping herself together.
It was the weakest the assassin had ever seen her. Azrael was always this stoic, immovable creature, incapable of those pesky emotions that ruined their lives, but here she was, almost audibly sobbing at the sight of her dead former lover’s horns. Naphal couldn’t help but feel like this was her fault, especially with the glare she got from Ares, who looked over her shoulder as she walked into the room.
“Get out of here.” She ordered quietly.
“Ares, don’t be rude.”
“But-“
“She didn’t know. There is no way she could have known. Don’t blame her for my problems.”
“Az, I don’t want you to be hurt.”
The reaper stood herself upright, “I’ve been hurt before. I know how to handle it.”
“Azzy-“
Azrael walked slowly towards Naphal, her face stained red as she rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” The assassin said softly.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
“I mean, it is.”
“You didn’t know, hell, I didn’t even know seeing those things would make me do that. I guess the good memories are the ones that stuck.”
“Actually, Azrael, he did tell me about you two.”
The fallen angel paused for a second, then, beside either of the women in the room knew it, she began to burst into a sudden chuckle, tears once again beginning to stream down her cheeks. She wiped them with her finger before she spoke again, her voice shaking, “Of course he did…” she laughed, “That idiot never knew how to keep a secret.”
Naphal began to laugh softly herself, “Really?“
“Oh, he thought he could. He thought he was a lockbox, even though it turns out he was more like a chatterbox.”
They shared a snicker before the reaper’s face turned serious again, “I don’t mean to make you relive your nightmares, but how did you kill him?”
“What do you mean?” Naphal asked for clarification.
“How did you do it? Was it simple? Elaborate? Fast? Slow?”
The girl sighed, “He welcomed me in with open arms, we talked, he showed me around, grew belligerent, then decided to fight me. In the middle of the scuffle, I lodged my dagger in between his ribs. He bled out under my feet.”
“Good. He didn’t deserve that honorable death he always harped about.”
“I thought you loved him.”
“I did, that doesn’t mean I didn’t think he was a horrid soul.”
Naphal shrugged, “I guess that’s true.”
“You should really be getting back to the capital. I’m sure her majesty is ripping at her seams.”
“What makes you think she cares?”
“The fourteen voicemails I woke up to this morning.”
“Oh.”
Azrael sniffled, “I think it’s best if you make it there instead of trying to help me.“
“But-“
“Don’t worry, Naphy. I have plenty of help already.”
Naphal looked up at Ares, who still had her hand placed on Azrael’s shoulder, and still was giving the assassin a death glare.
“I guess you’re right.”
The reaper demon then walked back into the living room, yanking Naphal along with her as she stood in the doorway, staring down at the demon who loitered on her couch, twirling her gigantic ring of keys on her finger.
“Roxy!”
The firebreather was startled, “What?!”
“Will you make sure Naphal makes it back to the capital safely?”
“Azrael, I don’t need a bodyguard.” Naphal whispered.
“It’s better if you don’t go alone, besides, she’s Ares’ friend anyway.”
Roxy stood to her feet, “Aw, c’mon, Azzy! I ain’t that bad.”
“She has a personal gift for the queen, Roxy. It’s best if she had protection.”
“Lucy can suck it for all I care.”
“I am well aware of your opinions, but you don’t want to be the one blamed if this creature dies, do you?”
The firebreather waved her hand, “Fine! I’ll go, if it appeases her majesty.”
“Thank you.” The reaper demon turned her eyes back to Naphal, “You have a safe trip. I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”
“Alright.”
Naphal gave the reaper a small hug before walking beside the larger demon who was to accompany her, breaking her loneliness but not exactly providing much in the way of positive interaction. They soon left the cavernous home and entered the land of hellfire, feeling the heat on their skin as they began to step through the sandy regions of hell, feeling their feet sink in the dirt beneath them.
Roxy grumbled the entire way, going on and on about something that the assassin couldn’t make out. Eventually, she decided to break the demon’s sneering trance.
“So, what do you do in the palace?” Naphal asked semi-curiously, in an attempt to get her talking.
“A better question is what do you do?”
“I’m an assassin. We’ve been over that.”
“Yeah, but what do you do when there’s no one to kill?”
“Then I’m not at the palace.”
Roxy hummed, “I don’t blame you. Gets tiring walking around that maze every single day.”
“What do you do anyway?” The assassin asked, restating the original question.
“Me? Ain’t it obvious?” The firebreather responded, shaking her keys.
“No.”
“I’m the dungeon keeper. I make sure that the idiots who get themselves locked down there stay in line just long enough to make it to their sentencing.”
“Oh.“
Roxy sighed, “It ain’t much, just screaming at those Wall Street banker types until they stop crying, maybe pulling out some old tricks if I need to.”
“Old tricks, huh?”
The firebreather twisted a cocky smile, “I used to be a pretty big deal back in the day. Say, have you ever walked around the coliseum? You might’ve seen me there.”
“You were a champion?”
“Where do you think the stories came from? I used to kick ass and take names; now all I do is walk around that disgusting old dungeon all day.” She scoffed at herself, “It ain’t exactly god’s work.”
“Considering we’re demons, I wouldn’t think so.”
“There’s not even anyone cool down there! It’s all fraudsters and politicians, just a bunch of old guys who couldn’t make a dent in a wall of cardboard, let alone steel bars.”
“That’s a lot more pleasant than killing people.” Naphal said quietly, her mind going back to the memory of Mephistopheles’ blood pooling beneath her feet.
“I’d rather be doing that.”
“You know, I don’t even think I’ve ever been down to the dungeon.”
“No one has, other than me. It ain’t exactly the nicest place in the world.” Roxy ran a hand through her hair, “For one, it’s a nightmare on the senses. It smells like corpses and burning sulfur, then you end up tasting blood for the next three days because the air down there is basically just dead body stink.”
“Oh.”
“And these motherfuckers take forever to even get their dates because Lucifer is a lazy bitch who’d rather waste everyone else’s time than actually do her goddamn job.”
“I don’t think she’s that bad.”
The firebreather sighed, “You haven’t known her as long as I have.”
“That’s true.”
“She loves it when everyone’s miserable, which I guess is a part of the job description, being the devil and all.”
Naphal didn’t agree nor disagree, instead taking the time to look around at their surroundings, the city’s skyline slowly coming into her view as they approached. She felt the cool breeze of the river flowing beside them duel with the burning heat of the hellfires, making a pleasant mix in the middle. She noticed Roxy’s tics, like how she ran her hand through her hair almost all the time, or how she always rested her arm in front of her exposed abdomen.
The firebreather soon began to hum a tune to herself, an unfamiliar one to the girl, who listened to it as it peaked with speed and slowed to a purring crawl. She wondered what it was, but frankly, she didn’t really want to ask. She had talked enough, and the capital was right there. It was kinda nice walking in silence, her thoughts suppressed for a moment while she felt the sand seep through the soles of her shoes. That would soon be broken, however.
“Can I ask you something?” The firebreather said softly, a noticeable change from her usual demeanor.
“Sure.”
“Do you know Abaddon?”
Naphal snickered, “Boy, do I.”
“Then… can you do me a favor?”
“Alright, what is it?”
She smirked, “Tell her that Roxy wants a rematch.”
“I will if I see her.”
“You better. I wanna kick her ass this time.”
“This time?”
Roxy’s smirk immediately turned to a scowl, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“Just do the favor or I’ll make a necklace out of your ribs.”
Naphal didn’t respond, focusing her sights forward as the pair approached the bustling city, the evening traffic filling the streets while they began to see signs of life in the outskirts. The assassin continued to move forward, even as her walking partner began to get distracted by fans asking for autographs and paparazzi following her movements, which she played to with glee.
Eventually, Naphal noticed that she had fallen so far behind that she had disappeared. Frankly, the girl didn’t care, moving on without her towards the towering palace that got closer and closer with every single step. She maneuvered herself through the crowd until she saw Tiff doing her job on her usual corner, the assassin hiding herself in the mob to avoid being seen and dragged into a nearby bar again. Normally she’d be all for it, but now wasn’t exactly the time with her wandering around the streets with the horns of an enemy of the state.
Once Tiff was out of sight, the assassin stood upright again, continuing down the street until she made it to the palace square, opening the gates and walking underneath the towering statue of Lucifer, looking down at her with a smile. Naphal met its eyes with a depressing disdain, taking in a deep breath before opening the castle’s massive door. Entering it reminded her of Mephistopheles’ empty palazzo, memories of the dying violet walls rushing back into her brain like a dam had just broken.
Her hands grew sweaty again, her heartbeat beginning to pound so loud she could hear it through her chest. She began to feel delirious as a secretary saw her and asked what her business was. Quietly, barely even audible, the assassin responded with: “I’m here to see Lucifer.”
The secretary gave Naphal a frown, “I’m sorry, but her majesty’s office is closed for the day. You’ll have to come back another time.”
The assassin regained her bearings a bit, “It’s very important.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Ma’am, her highness will be here tomorrow morning to see to your wishes. Her office hours begin at nine in the morning and close at-“
Naphal snapped, “I know her hours.”
“Then you should understand that her majesty doesn’t want to be bothered at this time.”
“Just call someone and tell them who I am.”
“Who are you then?”
The girl took in a deep, shaky breath. “I am Naphal, the assassin hired to kill Mephistopheles. I have returned to show Miss Lucifer her trophy.”
The secretary’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head, “Oh… I… I’m so sorry, ma’am, I thought you were just-“
“It’s okay. I just need to know where she is.”
“I don’t know that information, but I can make some phone calls.”
“Please do that for me, it’s urgent.”
Naphal had never been that assertive before, and frankly, she quite liked the feeling as she watched the secretary hurry back to her little desk and frantically pick up the phone, trying with all her might to reach the queen. Finally, the assassin began to hear a familiar voice come through the phone, though muffled by its suboptimal speakers.
“Yes, ma’am.”
There was an audible groan from the other line.
“I’m sorry to bother you, your highness, but-“
More groaning and shouting.
“Yes.” The secretary nodded for no one to see, “Your assassin had returned.”
There was a sudden change from the other voice.
“I’ll send her down there immediately.” She placed the phone back on its holder, looking up at Naphal, who still stood over by where she had walked in. “She’s in the hot springs, she wants you to meet her down there.”
“I… don’t know where those are.”
“Go down the hall then to the left, and there will be a door that leads to a spiral staircase. After you make it down there, you’ll see two more doors, they should have signs on them.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, and thank you.”
Naphal raised an eyebrow, “Why are you thanking me?”
“You saved the world, don’t you know? Mephistopheles was an evil man, he wanted us all killed. You’ve liberated us from our worst fear.”
“I guess I did.”
“I’m sure her majesty will cry when she hears what happened.”
The assassin looked down at her feet, dried blood still stuck to her shoes, “I’m sure she will.”
She began her way down the hall, walking past an endless line of doors and staff rooms, turning left where she was told, then making sure she opened the right entrance. The spiral staircase was winding and dark, each step creaking like it was on the brink of collapse. Her feet hit them carefully, and yet it still sounded like a gunshot. She mercifully made it to the bottom to find another corridor, then saw two more doors resting at the end of it.
One was marked “Dungeon”, so at least she knew where that was now, and the other was lovingly marked “Springs”, giving Naphal her hint on where to go. She took in a deep breath before she entered, not knowing what awaited her inside other than the queen herself. Her muscles began to ache, her head began to spin, a feeling of impending doom clouding her mind as she reached out to open the door, feeling the cold metal doorknob freeze her slimy palms.
It was time to present the queen her trophy.