Kurtis stared down at his still-twitching arm. Blood dripped from his gaping bicep where muscle and torn tendon swayed. The flaps of bloody skin shifted like light cloth in a breeze. It pulled at an angle towards the arm on the ground, as if struggling to reattach the missing limb.

Not again. Not again. The two words repeated in his head with a fading echo.

He didn’t know how much time passed as the pain faded to numbness. Numbness became emptiness. Then it was all a void. The process repeated over and over.

His body suddenly jerked, and he forced another glance downward at the crimson dust covering the ground. The red of his blood mixed and became indistinguishable. The fingers of his severed hand curled with a dying instinct, as if life could actually be grasped from the scolding air.

There was another jolt. A stretch and pull. Pain. Kurtis closed his eyes, but the darkness behind his eyelids still shifted with his seizing body. A sickening thud intruded on the blackness. He struggled to keep his eyes shut as an unknown force pulled at him, followed by an excruciating, white-hot pain that crawled down the other side of his body.

He seized and gritted his teeth to fend it off, but only succeeded for what felt like a few seconds.

He knew he had submitted to the black void of his mind briefly, much like the many other times when pain consumed him. He didn't know how much time passed when his eyes finally opened unbidden. His blurred vision achieved enough clarity for him to observe the familiar surroundings. On the ground he now saw a leg, his leg, laying crossed over his severed arm.

That's right...this is Hell.

A shuffling of feet intruded on the silence. Some of the crimson dirt pushed up into a low pile as a robe trailed along the floor.

“How many is that?” a cracking voice said somewhere out of sight.

“Twelve.” A ring of steel followed the answer.

“Impressive.”

“He stopped going fully unconscious at eight.”

A broken laugh interrupted by a few dry heaves surged from whoever, or whatever. “Could move on to organs.”

“Soon.”

“Oh, goodie.”

Kurtis struggled through his pained fatigue and lifted his head. A humanoid creature wearing a crimson robe and hood stood before him. Its face was shrouded in darkness even as it looked up to regard him curiously. The hooded figure tilted its head as Kurtis instinctively bent his remaining wrist in the shackle that held him suspended from the ceiling. The chains clinked together in mockery.

This has to be Hell, Kurtis thought. He could barely remember anything.

A scream echoed from a long hallway connected to distant dungeons. The humanoid at the corner of Kurtis's vision paid him one last glance before making its exit. After a few more seconds, a series of dull thuds and grunts were audible despite the distance.

The other creature in front of Kurtis examined a number of strange tools and weapons laid across a flattened stone bench. It decided on a utensil with two long handles held together by a small crank and coil. The handles ended in an indentation like a spoon with spikes lining its circumference. It reached for the instrument with lanky fingers and examined the coil at the center of the two matching pieces. The two spoons clamped together when the humanoid bent its elbows inward, like the mouth of a hungry venus flytrap.

It seemed satisfied and crouched in front of Kurtis.

Kurtis’s mind somehow managed to recollect the deadly contraption. His eyes shivered and the scolding air caught in his throat.

No...God...

The hooded figure settled underneath Kurtis as it crouched and pointed the device vertical. It raised its arms slightly until the jaw of the device hovered over Kurtis’s rear end while the top settled above his crotch.

The creature brought its arms together.

----------------------------------------

Anguished cries echoing off the dungeon walls woke Kurtis from another restless sleep. Even he shocked himself at the thought. He might have felt something akin to relief if not for the nightmares that plagued his long-sought dreams.

He'd seen the cabin again. The same scenario played out over and over as he desperately clung to the one memory that made him who he was.

His body was whole again. Or rather, his soul. The torture from the demon had been put on hold. He recalled the hooded creature being summoned away before it enacted the last bit of pain on him.

Kurtis stared at both his wrists pressed against the shackles. The chains holding him aloft didn't move as if each link locked in place with adhesive. He stared at his toes that hovered a few inches off the mocking ground. Lengths of webbed skin curled around what was once a deep laceration in his chest as his soul healed.

He licked his parched lips and tore his gaze away. He stared at the concave a short ways down a tunnel lit with torches of eternal flame. A pair of shadows danced in the flickering light, accompanied by a honeyed female voice he scarcely recognized. The second voice was strange to him and spoke a foreign tongue not known to the living.

Kurtis flinched at the sound of puffing smoke blowing from the fire in an angry hearth. Well, it was shaped in the like, but he wasn’t sure of its actual purpose.

Just burn me. Burn me to nothing.

Kurtis's eyes widened when he shifted himself forward and noticed a woman with pale white skin standing outside his cell. She was beautiful in a most frightening way. Part of her blood-red hair fell over one ruby eye with a coral dagger-shaped clip holding it in place. A somewhat revealing black dress accentuated the seductive curves of her body. She was almost mesmerizing enough to distract a man from the devil wings that drifted on her back. Under the hair on one side of her face was a faint, barely discernible tattoo of coiled thorns.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

She greeted him in a sweet voice. “Hello, Kurtis.”

Kurtis felt his mind melting at her words, but he fought it off by biting down on his tongue just enough to instill a bit of pain.

“My my.” She licked her lips at this surprising accomplishment. “After all that pain, you still inflict harm upon yourself. How stubborn.”

The cell door opened silently at her approach and she stood before Kurtis where he hung from the ceiling by the familiar chains. She gave him a onceover and smiled as she observed him grinding his teeth under a firm mouth.

She pressed her chest up against him and moved closer to his face.

Grief and fear died within Kurtis. Other emotions rushed to flood the holes left behind – swirling and plunging, they vied for control of his constitution. When one thinks he has experienced all the pain, loss and suffering there is to offer, then it is only natural.

He flushed with anger.

“I daresay, though,” she breathed. “It is also rather…stimulating.”

She moved away from him and went to circling around his suspended naked body. Ringed scars wrapped around his skin at the joints of his limbs: elbows, shoulders, knees, thighs, parts of the neck, all formed the same circular scar where limbs had been removed and reattached.

Hell had its ways of afflicting agony and preserving it.

“It is unfortunate for you,” the woman continued as she stood before him once again. “Heaven overlooked righteous suicide. And so here you are.”

Kurtis remained silent, but the anger subsided in place of confusion.

“That’s right. You committed suicide. Not depression, no selfishness--but for another.”

So it is real. Kurtis stared down at the floor and focused on the plain stone. He racked his brain for recollection, but all he received was a stinging sensation that seemed to warn him about such a foolhardy task.

Kurtis managed to find his voice. “Who are you?”

The woman frowned at his unexpected ability to speak. “My name is Nanalia. I am also known as the Mistress of Torment.”

Kurtis smirked. “And why do you torment me so, Lady Nanalia?”

Now Nanalia was genuinely surprised. Her eyes widened at the unexpected joke from the man who had endured unspeakable torture.

“I am a different sort of torment from what you’re thinking,” she said.

“Is that so?”

Nanalia stood silent for a moment. Kurtis’s eyes remained unwavering.

“I wonder,” Nanalia said. “Do you actually know where you are?”

“Must be Hell.”

“How do you know this?”

Kurtis’s thoughts blurred momentarily. Perhaps it was from the heat, or the high he was getting from using words after so long. “I’ve been torn apart, put back together and there's plenty of fire." His eyes instinctively traveled up Nanalia’s body. He took in her seductive curves, the generous size of her breasts and captivating face. He then looked down at his crotch and confirmed that it hadn't stirred even a bit.

He made a humorless grin. “And it would seem my dick doesn’t work.”

Nanalia stood rigid as he took her off guard a second time. Her eyes narrowed, and she moved closer to him, this time purposefully and with her fists clenched. She stared at him unblinking and he forced himself to match her.

The words had tumbled out of him. He didn’t know why he said that. It wasn’t part of his personality. It was all the uncharacteristic emotions taking over. He started to believe that he’d taken it too far when a broad smile formed on her face.

“Yes. I was right. There is no mistaking it.”

She clasped her hands behind her back and twirled like a young girl in love. She leaned forward and let out an exuberant laugh. Kurtis’s mouth almost fell open as this strange demon woman became animated and unnaturally cheerful.

When she regained her composure, she regarded him with that sweet smile. It didn’t seem possible for a woman with the title, Mistress of Torment, to have such honest emotions.

Her expression then took a serious turn.

“I’ll admit, your situation is lamentable, to say the least.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the iron bars of the cell. “Your god abandoned you. You are noble and pure as they come. You are strong in mind, body and spirit.” She gave him a wry grin. “And here you are.”

Kurtis couldn’t think of anything more to say. If what she said was true, then why? Why was he here? Could a single action really undue everything else he'd done in life?

“There are less than few with your qualities who end in damnation. Their souls don’t interact like those of the wicked, but among those are weak-minded and ill-spirited. Others are left devoid of will.” She let her arms fall to her side. “Then there are those like you. Even they soon break. So, we are left with just the you.”

Kurtis let out the breath of air he’d been holding in.

“You long for a vengeance that lies somewhere in your subconscious,” Nanalia said. “Your relentless spirit detaches you from the pain here and grounds itself in a past life. So powerful.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. The restlessness clawed at his stomach and misplaced hope forced itself upon his mind. “What are you saying?”

Nanalia cupped Kurtis’s face in her soft hands almost in a gesture of affection and pity. “What if you had a second chance?”

Kurtis blanked.

One of Nanalia’s hands fell from his face and she wagged a finger at him. “But, only on one condition.”

“W-Which is…?”

“You must make a contract with me. It is a contract that even the Lord of Hell knows nothing of.”

A crazed, unamused laugh escaped Kurtis. Just the thought of a second chance was enough. To find out what memories were lost to him, who the young girl was and why he wanted this vengeance. Any contract was worth it. But the lack of time to ponder clouded his judgment over the years.

A thought dawned on him. “Is this part of your torment? Do you instill hope in me only to take it away?”

Nanalia giggled. “Goodness, you certainly are perceptive. But no, this is legitimate.”

“What are your terms?”

“You are mine: body and soul. I want you to forever be my harbinger for the wickedness that spreads as a plague across the surface world.”

Kurtis hung his head as her words registered. “How can I do any of this as a mere human?” He didn’t deny that he lacked remorse at the thought of taking the lives of evil people if that was his task. In fact, it was rather enticing. Perhaps this torture at the hands of demons transmogrified him.

But he was one man.

“I mentioned how special you are. You have endured the worst tortures, torn apart repeatedly and reliving the deaths of those you once called 'comrade,' praying for a second death that would just send you to the eternal Limbo with no feel or sense of being. Those of your character should never endure this. A soul like yours is not compatible with Hell. And so, it turns you into something beyond any comprehension, earthly or spiritual. You will become a Hell Knight: a warrior-being born of innocent, pure Earth and molded by malicious, wicked Hell.”

Nanalia turned and leaned against his exposed, hovering body.

“I give you the opportunity to discover who you are and exact your vengeance upon those who have wronged you. In return, once every thirty-day cycle, you will seek out those of true evil. Exile them from the Earth and deliver them to Hell, where I will torment them according to my duty.”

Kurtis couldn’t believe his ears. “You make me sound like some warrior of justice. But, this is Hell.”

Nanalia shrugged. “Hell is a very subjective identity to those on the surface. It is a place to punish villains according to our agreement with Heaven. And that whole eternity thing? No. We punish however long and whatever way we find suitable. That being said, we are evil in the eyes of other gods and mankind. They believe no man should suffer the punishments of Hell, despite what they may have done that thrust them down here.”

Kurtis didn’t even need time to consider his options. There was only one.

“Then I will become what they hate.”

Nanalia placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him on the forehead. “Well said.”

Kurtis closed his eyes and struggled to avoid eye contact with the terrible demon woman. His past self struggled feebly with what had been forged in the present.

He opened his eyes as Nanalia spoke, “You belong to Hell, but I have the power to make you my knight. You will be the third Hell Knight to exist since the birth of the universe. Do not squander such an honor, because something beyond Heaven and Hell desired this.”

Kurtis allowed himself a smirk. Whatever wanted him back up there was inconsequential. The satisfaction he felt was enough. He didn’t entirely know what he was like during his life on Earth, but he couldn’t deny the murderous sensation welling up inside him.