Hello and welcome to my tale. If you have found this book, then you have found yourself interested in my life. While I do enjoy my privacy, much has happened over the years that requires an explanation. Before I continue, allow me to apologize for the formal tone. While I was a young man when this tale began, I am young no longer. Age has wizened not only my mind, but also my spoken and written word. Such travesties tend to occur when a world you once knew to be impossible- as I felt I knew- suddenly is not only possible, but now a reality. Events such as that awaken a thirst for knowledge and understanding beyond comprehension. But I'm sure anyone reading this understands, for you too have lived it, though perhaps not to this extent.

The story I am about to reveal is a personal one. It is a tale of magic, adventure, tragedy, danger and of course, love. Before I can continue I must explain the world as it was during the start of my tale. The year was 2018, A large city in the West coast of The United States. Our nation had become divided by a time of social and political disruption. Every person thought they were "righteous good" facing off against some incomprehensible "evil". The world was once again leaning towards such dangerous absolutes. Upon reflection I am often reminded that it was truly a strange time, but this is often the way most people think when looking at the past and I am no exception.

Though my formative years were simple and even mundane, they taught me what to seek after, and what to strive for. When my life fell into chaos I turned to my past to push me forward. The dream of normalcy that might one day return to my life ever on my horizons. Everyone has a different path, a different journey, and this story will be the telling of my unique path. There is one more point I must make known; so allow me to say, here and now, plainly for all to understand that I was a faithless young man, and in a way I suppose I still am. From an early age my parents tried to instill in me the catholic faith, to which I rejected completely and rather unceremoniously.

I found the idea of gods utterly idiotic and faith the tool of the weak willed and simple minded. I had many questions that were given simplistic answers and in the age of science these were insufficient. I look back at myself now and wonder how I could have been so foolish, for the signs had been all around if I'd only opened my eyes to them... But even faithlessness is based on some amount of faith, or rather a faith in the lack thereof; and those who question too easily, or question not enough, often never see the picture as it truly is. But the world had yet to reveal such wonders to me. So do not blame my youthful ignorance too harshly, as we all must grow from something. Now that you understand a little about me. Allow me to start at the beginning. This is the tale of Desmond Murphy, The High King of Hell.

~Desmond Murphy, 02/01/2565

*****

I sat on the train, eyes glued to my phone. Amusing myself with yet another episode of a popular television show. It was a story of monsters and magic, sword and sorcery.. My friends had begged me time and again to watch it, and I had recently relented. I was happy they had badgered so, because I was now quite invested. Especially since it made the commute less monotonous.

The sky was still dark, as it was winter and the sun had not yet risen for the early morning commuters. The train jostled its many passengers as it headed into the downtown area of Portland. Darkness holding fast to the morning chill, I yawned as I looked up to see several sleeping passengers. Worn and dirty they slept with caps pulled down over their eyes, rejecting the low hum of fluorescent light. The less fortunate often rode these early morning trains, and who could blame them, It was warm and offered them a reprieve from the harsh winds of a northwestern winter. I sighed to myself as the automated voice of the train announced my stop.

"Now arriving at Pioneer Courthouse Square"

Locking my phone screen, I wrapped my headphones around my hand and inserted them into my jacket pocket. Standing up from from my seat I exited the train. I was wearing my usual work attire: A light blue button down shirt with a black slim tie, Khaki slacks, brown leather shoes and black suit jacket. I sucked my stomach in as I was self conscious of my growing mid section, the shirt still tight around my mildly plump belly.

I was a fairly decent height, six foot, with well groomed brown hair and a short thick beard hugging my jaw, specks of red gave it a more flavorful color. I had recently turned twenty five and had already wasted four and more years of my life working as a data analyst for a large health insurance company. "Amerihealth" I hated the job, but it paid well, usually. It was the same company my mother worked for in fact, so it had been an easy transition when I had left school and decided to work toward a career.

It was a short walk to my work, less than five minutes. The sky slowly began to change to a dark blue haze, threatening to show sun in the hours to come. I walked the empty streets as dark empty buildings loomed ahead. Old stone structures sat next to new glass. Downtown Portland was a relatively clean place, save for the homeless folk laying in their sleeping bags on most corners. The red cobblestone beneath my feet clacked loudly as I passed over in leather shoes. I felt bad, hoping such things wouldn't wake them; I quietly hoped they were used to it.

Before I realized it I was walking around the corner of the massive Amerihealth building. 30 floors of mundane stone carved into more mundane shapes; as far as buildings went, it surely wasn't a marvel in its own right, but perhaps the enjoyment of seeing it was well in the past. The building itself was squared with large glass windows that clung to it's exterior plainly.

The top floor was much smaller, to make room for the large patios on either side with trees that grew over the ledges, now bare from the winter season. I was rarely allowed on floors that high, as my badge only got me access to the 9th floor. The entrance was solid glass with two large revolving doors. The stonework outside carved into the likeness of fish leaping through a river. Age had now left blemishes in the grooves and the cracks, though no one cared to give it a deep clean.

The lobby was masterfully boring with a shaggy vomit green carpeted floor, pleather armchairs and glass coffee tables. Simply put, it looked straight out of a hotel from the seventies. A barista stand sat on the far right side. "Jessie's Java'' it was called. Jessica was the "Jessie" in the name, and she was a delightful middle aged woman who worked and owned the coffee shop. I checked my phone and saw it was still only 5:45. Jessie hadn't quite finished setting up, but I could already smell the hot coffee. I approached as I always did.

"Good morning Jessie, how are you?" I greeted, and She turned looking frazzled, her long wavy blond hair pulled into a loose ponytail, her eyes were bugged out from a lack of sleep and wrinkles hung from her forehead with exhaustion. She didn't have an easy job, running a business by yourself wasn't something I envied.

"Huh? Oh, Desmond. Sorry, running a bit late. Haven't finished brewing yet." She said absently as she continued about her work. Hauling different supplies about the various compartments and cupboards.

"Ah, no worries. Have a good one then." I replied, feeling slightly dejected. Today would have to be just that much more grueling without that morning cup of coffee. Honestly, her coffee wasn't that good, but it made me feel better knowing I was helping a good person succeed with her dreams.

Jessie was far too busy setting up to notice me leave as I walked by security and down to the elevators. Pressing the call button I waited. As the obligatory ding sounded I entered and pushed the button for the 9th floor. However, before the door could close a hand appeared between, reversing the trajectory and forcing it to open. Through the widening gap I met the glare of my own personal devil.

"Oh, don't stop for me or anything!" Echoed the glaring woman's shrill voice as she entered the small enclosed space. Rhiannon strut into the elevator with absolute authority. I grit my teeth, biting back a comment about how she had not bothered to announce herself and ask that I hold the elevator -as any other person would have done. Several moments passed, the elevator doors awaiting further arrivals. Of course there were none. When the doors finally closed, we began our ascent.

"Good morning Desmond," Rhiannon purred mischievously. I glanced at her, not to be tricked by her pseudo pleasantries.

"Morning." I replied, not having the energy or desire to verbally spar with her.

"You'll need to stay late tonight. Mandatory overtime until the expense reports and government queues are correctly cleared," she mused wistfully, putting extra emphasis on 'correctly'. The corners of her lips edged toward a smile. "I hope you don't have any plans," She added, offering her mocking sympathy.

"Rhiannon, I haven't even clocked in and you're already telling me I need to stay late?" My rebuttal seemed all but expected as she scoffed loudly.

"We all must do our part, Desmond. If you can't be part of the team and put in the extra effort, perhaps we aren't the right fit?" She mused delightfully. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Trying my best to ignore her, I purposefully switched my gaze to the elevator display and the numbers ticking up to our floor. I knew she was watching me, expecting some sort of additional rebuke. When she did not get one she simply bore into me with her confrontational glare, hoping to lure me in. I tightened my gaze …four, five, six, seven…. Finally the elevator dinged once more, our floor had been reached, another short ride that felt like an eternity, completed.

"That's fine." I sighed finally, zipping out the door and away from her. I was Irritated with myself for not telling her no. Of course I didn't actually have any plans that night, but who was she to assume? Too many friends and relatives had already insisted I quit this dead end job. Hell, even my own mother, who worked just seven floors up urged me so. But the pay was enough for a somewhat relaxed lifestyle, and I enjoyed the comfort, when I was home to enjoy it anyway. So I reminded myself of that and made a bee line to my my desk, ignoring Rhiannon as I did so. Scanning my badge at the little black box beside the door I let myself in, the familiar bleep offering me access.

"Don't forget to hold the door, Desmond. It's rude not to you know, especially for your boss." Rhiannon called from back at the elevator -which was more than fifteen steps away- a low growl escaping at the end. Of course she was going to come this way, the main hallway had two sets of doors, one on the left that lead to Rhiannon's desk on the west side of the building, and the right, that led to the east side where my desk was located. Our building was basically a large circuit of desks that circled around the elevators, so it really didn't matter which door she took, though this one would create a longer walk for her, which she rarely minded because it gave her ample opportunity to antagonize me, such as right now. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes before turning around and holding the door open for the extended duration it took her to reach me. Offering a very half hearted and also very fake, smile.

"That's better," She gloated as she walked by, swaggering slowly like a fat cat. I felt my skin squirm as she did, disgusted not just with her, but with myself. I hated the way I just rolled over for everyone, especially her. I bit the inside of my cheek, chiding myself. Letting the door close I finished the trek to my cubicle, sat down and looked at the various figurines on my desk.

I was quite the comic book nerd, and had various superheroes in action poses about. They were my guilty pleasure, but recently they had begun to give me a sense of shame. "When did I become such a loser?" I whispered to myself as I shrugged off my jacket and hung it on the back of my chair. Revealing my less than attractive pouch belly. My friends said they hardly noticed it, but it was all I could see. I wanted to start going back to the gym, but just never had the time anymore, or at least that's what I told myself. I lightly slapped the sides of my face.

"Sheesh! Depressed much? Wake up man, time to get to work!" I said, slapping my cheeks in an attempt to shrug off the dark cloud that had begun to hang over my day.

The work day had come and gone. I had gotten there long before most of the office did, hell the office lights weren't even on yet. Staff slowly trickled in as the day wound on. Soon morning gave way to afternoon, then to evening. Rhiannon was the last on the floor to leave save myself, walking over to my cubicle I could hear her heels clack from down the hallway. Her fake nails clicked against the plastic walls as she notified me of her presence, she knew I hated it when she did that, which is likely why she did.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Don't forget to finish the expense reports. I need those on my desk by morning. Also, I took the liberty of letting the security guard know you'll be here very late." Her smile spoke volumes more than her words.

"Whatever. Good night." I replied choking down the curses I wished I was strong enough to say. I looked up and she met my eyes. I could see her drinking in my impassivity. There was once a time when I would have offered some kind of real retort, some form of resistance. That seemed like ages ago now, before she had been promoted to my boss. Now she seemed to relish in her victory over my lost pride. She turned and left, Her hellacious laugh sounding behind me as she walked toward the elevators.

*****

Finally, a grueling 5 hours later I turned off the small lamp on my desk--a necessity I realized after Rhiannon became the supervisor last year. She often forced me to stay late. I checked my watch. 11:30. Not bad. Usually I didn't finish these late night tasks until after midnight. Time to head home and sleep! I thought. I slipped on my jacket and raced down the hall to the elevator. Riding it to the ground level I walked out of the building. "Goodnight Marv! Stay safe!" I said to the night security guard. An older gentleman, probably late 60s early 70s. He always walked with a slight hunch, his hair a thin wispy white.

"You too, Desmond!" He replied, waving as he offered a warm smile. Ever polite as usual.

The night had a chill to it and a foreboding silence. I stopped at multiple points during my short walk to the train. Where was everyone? There were no people on the street, or cars on the road. Sure it was late, but the local bars would still be open I reasoned quietly. Not a single peep of loud music or drunken slurs. I dug into my pocket to pull out my headphones, unwrapping them and slinging them around my neck as I fiddled with the plug.

The silence was eerie, palpable--better to drown it out with some music I had thought. I plugged into my phone and began searching for a playlist when something unexpected broke through the silence of the night.

A scream so shrill, so loud it almost knocked me off balance. I yelped audibly, the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention. I turned my head in the direction of the scream. I knew it was a young woman, and I knew it was the kind of scream that meant something awful was happening.

"Oh man.." I groaned to myself as I peered into a parking garage. I could hear the sounds of a clear struggle inside. "What're you going to do Desmond? Leave them to fend for themselves?" I hesitated as I whispered to myself like a madman.

Looking down at my phone I began to call 911, but the shriek came again "Help me please!" She screamed out so clear, and I found my legs moving of their own accord. "This is stupid, so stupid. Turn around and go home…" I begged to myself as I continued, trying to convince my legs to listen to reason. The parking garage was practically devoid of cars, the odd parked car here or there, but otherwise empty and full of concrete.

I could hear the echoes of struggle, reverberating from what seemed like two levels above me. My heart raced in my chest, but my legs continued moving. I rounded the first corner and walked up the short slope to the second floor, then around again till I hit the next. Walking up the incline I thought I might puke. "What the fuck am I doing?!" I yelled at myself internally. "What am I going to do? Politely ask them to stop? What if this is a total misunderstanding and I'm just making a big deal out of nothing?" my mind ran through one excuse after another as I continued, one foot in front of the other. My hands were sweating excessively as I continued to check my cell phone. I kept it unlocked to call the police should anything go wrong. As I rounded the last corner what I found was beyond my wildest imagination.

A man wearing a suit not dissimilar to my own stood with his once white shirt now drenched red with blood. His jaw was unhinged to the point that it unnaturally hung down to the middle of his chest. Out of his mouth, the legs of what looked like a young woman convulsed slightly. Her skirt and stockings gave me the impression she worked in an office too, probably staying late due to a scrummy boss of her own. Her high heeled shoes lay strewn about on the floor, one of them busted.

She had probably tried to run, but hyperextended her ankle when her heel broke. I couldn't help but think -and hope- this might be some kind of movie set. Women only run and turn their ankles in horror flicks right? The blood was far too real though and it stank of rust and iron. My phone gradually fell from my hand as I found myself too paralyzed to do anything but stare in absolute shock. It clattered off the concrete floor. The inhuman monstrosity before me turned slowly, gently--the woman's lifeless legs swaying about in his mouth as he did so.

His glowing red eyes turned to meet mine. He cocked his head back and let the rest of his victim slide down his throat. I stumbled backwards as he did so. Where did she just go? I asked myself. He looked like a thin middle aged man again. Just a normal guy -save for the blood all over him- his face appeared recently shaved and his hair still groomed and gelled from that morning. A sickeningly reptilian voice escaped his lips.

"Uh oh... got caught… guess I get two dinners!" His eyes flashed a brighter red, and he seemed confused as I backed up another step, tripped and fell onto my back end. "Innnnterreesting" the voice purred as he took a single step forward, his body blurred and I found myself off my feet, dangling in the air, all in the span of an instant. His hand felt slimy and moist against the bare of my neck. I could feel the stubble I'd yet to shave sliding about under his fearsome grip.

"W-Wait! Don't!" I could hear myself beg as I tried desperately to undo his grip, my fingers sliding across his muscular blood soaked hands with no effect. The next thing I knew I felt a thud against my chest, followed by a tearing, cracking sound like I'd never heard before. "What?" Was all I managed to spit out breathlessly as I turned my eyes downward.

Ah, that makes sense, I'd thought. I could see his hand wrist deep in my stomach; but not only that, I could feel his fingers under my sternum, writhing about as if they were searching for something. It was so excruciating that I could not begin to describe it. I tried to scream, but instead the world slowed, fading to black, and I felt myself go limp.

*****

When at last I opened my eyes, if indeed you can say I did, I found myself in a new and terribly horrible place. Wind appeared to brush the loose hair about my face as I examined my surroundings, I was standing atop a stone bridge not more than two feet wide with no handholds or safety features to be spoken of.

The foggy sky beneath me was vast and I yelped as I attempted to maintain my balance, falling to my knees and gripping both sides of the stone, eyes sewn shut, cowering in fear of falling. Many minutes passed before I gathered the courage to open them and take in my surroundings in earnest, my vision blurring with vertigo as I did so. Before me loomed an absolutely massive yellow stone castle resting atop a mountain. Large rectangular windows littered the surface and spires seemed to scrape the twilight sky above.

The castle consisted of three large structures- the first lined the base of the stone monument, The front of which was protected by a large iron gate, cold steel crossed rods barring entry to the massive structure, tall walls tracing the outline of the wonderful castle. The second structure was above and to the east, opposite to me. I couldn't see it well, as the castle itself blocked most of the details, but a large spire erupted from its far side, ending in a stereotypical wizardly crooked tiled roof at it's tip.

The western side, that attached to the bridge I currently cowered upon, was the largest component, it seemed as impossibly wide as it was long, almost cartoonish in it's unrealistic size. A single large wooden door sat betwixt castle and the stone bridge.

My heart pleaded for safety and begged me to shuffle for it. As I looked out beneath me I saw that the fog below had cleared, rolling away atop previously unseen hills. My vertigo instantly sunk deeper into my heart as a valley so deep that I could hardly make out the blue traced lines of a river appeared. I quickly clutched at the stone bridge once more, hugging it as if I were a child afraid of monsters under my bed.

I peeked out through one eye yet again to see the sky above me was an eternal twilight of orange, yellow, purple and pink. This comforted me, if only mildly, and I felt my heart slow to a more reasonable pace. "Oh my God Desmond, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?" I berated myself angrily.

"Please refrain from speaking that name in my presence." A soft yet melodic voice spoke behind me at the other end of the bridge. The hairs on the back of my neck stood tall once again, I paused a moment, clinging tighter to the cold rough stone once more before daring to take a look.

As I peered back, I saw something truly and impossibly unbelievable. Not twenty feet away, the bridge merged into a large cylinder anointed with a high pointed tile roof, all the way around it's mid section were iron bars, crossed in squares like a bird cage, seemingly suspended in the air with no support above or below, thus defying all known laws of gravity.

The only thing holding it in the sky appeared to be the bridge on which I stood, or more truthfully, clutched. Inside was a man, dirty and bare, greasy long blond hair hung from his head obscuring his face, and filth covered golden wings curled around him. His arms crossed in front of him and held his feet, which were pulled close, his knees held tight against his chest. You would believe the first feature to steal my gaze would be his wings, but alas they were not.

Peering from under the dirty blond hair were the pale blue eyes of a tortured soul, the likes of which I had never before seen. His eyes pierced me, and we lay still for a time, simply watching each other. The whistling of wind sang through the air around me, until finally the mysterious caged man spoke.

"You are wasting time dear Desmond. Each moment you terry here, you are closer to death, true death."

I blinked in surprise, not understanding what he meant. Perhaps he could see this confusion on my face, for his eyes narrowed. "Do you wish to die?" He asked.

"What? Uh… no? No! No, I don't!" I replied, stammering like an idiot. "How did you know my…" I jerked upright unknowingly in protest. Realizing what I'd done, I slammed my chest back into the bridge for comfort. "Who are you?" I asked meekly, trying to block out the deathly heights.

"I am he who can save you. If you free me from this prison, and allow me into the castle across the way, I will do so. What say you?" His voice rang out and into my ears like milk and honey tea, sweet and comforting. I looked back across the stone bridge to the door more than a football field length away.

"But… it's so far! I'm afraid of heights.." I cowered, my voice shaking at the mere thought.

"Then perhaps you should die as the coward you are. Pitiful and alone. Allow your fears to control you and you shall surely perish." The once sweet and comforting voice turned to ice, each word like a dagger in my stomach.

I felt anger swell up from within, what did this man know about me? Nothing! All people have a fear of something, some, of many things. I closed my eyes and slowly raised my chest from the stone bridge. "I'm not a coward!" I called out to him, my voice feigning the courage I wished I had.

"Then open your eyes." He whispered softly, his voice sounded so close I thought I felt his breath on my ear. Many a moment passed before I mustered the courage to do so, and when I did, I found myself standing atop the bridge now, feet firmly planted and the breeze tousling my hair about my face, and yet I felt perfectly balanced.

I took a step forward, then another, and another. Before I realized it, I stood before the cage, a small keyhole to my right, camouflaged almost perfectly in the bars. I was surprised by the lack of smell. I'd figured due to the filthy nature of the man, that the stench would be strong up close, yet there was none.

"Let me out and escort me across. If you would be so kind." The voice said, still huddled tightly as if he were a small child fighting a fierce winter. I thought for a moment, peering about his cage. Loose feathers and hay strewn about. It was as if this man had sat here unmoving from the day he'd been locked in there. I shook my head of the thought and focused on the task at hand.

"How?" I asked. "I don't have a key." I quickly examined my surroundings, more thoughtfully this time as I searched for it. There was nowhere to stand but the two feet of bridge I was already on, and nowhere to hide a key. Finally I shrugged, unsure where it could have possibly been.

"The key is already in your hand Desmond." He said simply, nodding to my left hand. I raised my eyebrows in surprise and looked down.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed as I found a small iron key exactly where he had said it would be. Twirling the key within my fingers I inspected it closely. The key itself was very intricate, the handle was a stylized DM and the blade end appeared as thorns weaving around each other. Not like any key I had ever seen before. Peering at the lock I lifted my left hand and inserted the key, twisting it several times before I heard the satisfying click of release. I pulled the gate open.

"Thank you. Now, please help me up." The man softly commanded. Offering a weak, grimy hand up to me, taking it into my own I pulled him up to his feet, he was surprisingly light. I was about to ask if he was okay, when he spoke first. "I am fine. Let us go. You have precious little time." We moved carefully.

The progress was slow, and we didn't speak, we simply walked, carefully placing each of our steps. It felt like hours before we finally reached the door, yet the sky was unchanged, still the perfect blend of twilights orange into purple and pink. The man was frail, literal skin and bones. His arm stretched over my shoulders and I could feel his rib cage against my side. His hair was long and only allowed peeks at his facial features, the most notable of which was his jawline that cut into his face like foreign features. As we walked I wondered what he might look like once he recovered.. Before I realized it, we were standing before that wooden door. I could see it now with detail, the intricate metal work nailed into its front with cold iron steel contrasted well against the stained dark wood and engraved handle. He leaned against me expectantly, prodding me, reminding me what I needed to do. I opened it and offered for him to go in first. He did so without hesitation.

"Wait!" I said, stopping him as he was crossing the threshold into the castle. "Seriously, who are you? Where are we, and who put you out there?" I bombarded him with questions, my mind all at once full of them.

The man brushed the grime covered hair out of his eyes, revealing his full, still striking tan face, had it not been for the sleep deprived eyes, blistered lips and sunken cheeks, one might have thought him extremely attractive, most probably still would. He smiled and entered the castle slowly closing the door on me while answering. "You may call me Lucifer, Lucifer Morningstar. Thank you again, Desmond." His perfect white teeth shining behind a wide smile as the door shut and the sensation of falling overtook me.