“There is no trap so deadly as the one you set for yourself.” -Raymond Chandler, Long Goodbye

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

Pirugan Continent

Castle of Satan

The Divine Queen, Hera strode down the long hallway with more than a bit of trepidation in her step. She managed enough control that the padding of her knee-high armour echoed in tandem around her.

Tendrils of darkness crept between the cracks of the obsidian walls and followed her movements. This was the deepest she'd ever been in the castle, and the malevolent presence that she was warned of that resided in the deepest bowels was near. Its aura was heavy, and the cold touch of the dark tendrils prodded her lavender skin as if testing her wavering composure.

She didn't want to admit it to herself, but this unknown, otherworldly being exuded a power that was beyond even her understanding. This realization suddenly exacerbated her mindset further and brought forth an alien feeling known as apprehension. She felt the false air of calm begin to slip away. It was irritating how quickly one's emotions could transform in the face of the unknown.

She bit her lower lip. Dammit. We wouldn't have to resort to this if Satan had stolen Pandora's box.

After what seemed like an eternity, the hallway widened substantially, and Hera found herself standing before a massive wall of stone native to the abyss. It was stone that did not belong in this world, but it was here thanks to the dark force that lurked just beyond.

Her black caricthmian armor felt coarse. The harsh rub against her skin intensified, and she worked her hands over the wrist and shin guards to readjust them. Her smooth black-scaled tail slid stiff along the floor. The body armor she wore also felt too tight, but this part was nothing really new. It was difficult to find armor in this world that actually fit properly to her alluring figure.

She removed the elaborate circlet from her head and let it vanish from her hands. She then released her brunette and red hair to flow down its full length to her waist, revealing a pair of elongated horns. They actually managed to make her appearance even more divine and seductive.

A breath of air escaped her. Control. Control.

She now knew why her armor was so uncomfortable. She noticed the glimmer of sweat on her arms and cursed her body's honesty. There was nothing to be done. Sitting and brooding would only serve to feed the unease.

With that realization, she placed her hand at the very center of the wall and a thin vertical line appeared that extended to the floor and ceiling. Without further prompting, the two separate slabs of rock opened inward with a groan of resistance to plunge Hera into an even deeper darkness.

Hera hesitated before taking that first step into the chamber. The bit of light from the hallway was unable to pierce the darkness beyond.

To hell with these Players. And to hell with Metatron and her Guardian monsters.

She willed herself forward, stepped onto the unseen floor and proceeded into the consuming darkness. The air was silent. Even Hera's footsteps were unheard as she strode forward with an even pace. The typical rustling of fabric under her armor was also absent. It was as if the world had been put on mute.

As she considered this thought, a coldness closed in. She felt her body stiffen. The cold was fleeting, but the soreness of her limbs convinced her that it was more than just a slight chill.

The harsh scrape of her metal heels echoed along the stone as if hugging it close and dear. Her breathing turned out to be much heavier than she expected as sound returned. At first she thought it mirrored her apprehension, but it was due more to the air in the chamber becoming heavier. Much heavier.

The inky blackness opened up and admitted her into another hidden chamber that glowed with a dim red light. The source emitted from a small, pulsing orb with crimson rings.

Hundreds upon hundreds of stalagmites and stalactites thrust from the ground and ceiling, disappearing into the darkness beyond what the orb of light could not penetrate. Flat stone slabs protruded from all areas of the chamber around the spikes of rock. Dust swirled around in random points of the room from an unseen wind that shouldn't have existed in a place sealed from the outside world.

Hera noticed a group of monsters, her comrades, sitting around the red orb.

She first noticed Satan's massive form bent over the glowing orb. One of his hands rested open with trails of energy seeping from it, feeding the orb.

The second individual was a knight in heavy black armor tending to a long broadsword. He sat silent as his hand moved methodically up and down the weapon. A light blue hue emanated from the blade as he continued to perfect his practice of reinforcement.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Sitting behind the knight on one of the jutting stone slabs was a female with folded, dark raven-like wings. Her black hair hung low to the small of her back with an elaborate, violet circlet resting on her head. The bright flowers clipped to either side of her head contrasted strangely with the burgundy armor she wore. Her legs were crossed, wearing stockings of armored fabric. Her arms, also covered in multi-layered caricthmian, rested on her knees in a stance that made boredom obvious. Her scythe was laid on the ground with the utmost care.

Standing next to Satan was the final individual. Hera was aware that he was male, but the bone mask-of-a-face made it difficult to tell, especially with the dark hood pulled up over his head. His armor was sharp and dangerous. It seemed like the armor was practically a part of his own body. His pauldrons were forged into the shape of dragon feet and his full multi-layered, caricthmian armor was smooth where the spikes ended. It was armor that was crafted by his own hands. His elaborate cloak covered most of the armor. Propped up in one of his hands was an enormous scythe with three intricate, and disturbingly realistic, dog heads at the base of the blade. The eyes of the metal Cerberus glowed a deep yellow like a brimming fire.

What made Hera uneasy about him was his seeming lack of countenance. The hint of a mouth could be seen, but just barely since his cloak was pulled up over the lower half of his bone face (she was unsure if what he wore was a mask or if it was his actual face). His eyes were also unreadable. They were like the eyes of a beast. The smaller eye in his forehead was forever unmoving, and Hera wondered if it actually observed anything. Perhaps it did, but she had never seen it glance in any direction. The black, curved ink designs around his eyes made their contrasting crystal blue color even more prominent.

Only one of her comrades came down to greet her as she approached the glowing orb. The woman with the raven wings dropped the few feet to the ground. She walked up to Hera and greeted her with a nod.

“It's good to see you, Hera,” she said in her sweet voice. Hera picked out a hint of familiar apprehension.

“You as well, Persephone,” Hera replied. Awareness of Persephone's uneasiness was enough of a reminder to mask her own.

The deep voice of Satan interrupted them. “Everyone is present.”

Persephone addressed the cloaked individual next to Satan, “What is he talking about, Hades? There are so few of us here.”

The one named Hades shook his head. “Indeed. Many of us are too far scattered throughout the continent to assemble. A few who were once among us have been removed from the covenant as well.”

Hera smirked. “I'm guessing Beelzebub is one of them?”

“He was a liability. My only regret is that I was unable to crush his twisted brain,” Satan scoffed. “Sick and demented little runt.”

As Satan finished his sentence, the orb beneath his hand dimmed. The void around them drew closer and melded into the stone. Hera felt the same presence from before. The dark tendrils now slithered along the stone and combined to create an even deeper darkness. The last of the inky black merged, and all around them the cavern vanished. The red orb only illuminated the individuals who stood around it.

A disembodied, mechanical voice resounded in the darkness, “I am pleased that all of you were able to convene at this critical hour.” The voice seemed to be coming from all around them.

The dark knight who was reinforcing his sword stopped his work and rose. Hera was unable to see him camouflaged in the darkness, and she jumped in surprise as he appeared to join them in the circle. She let out a low curse as she composed herself. The dark knight shrugged an apology.

Satan waved one of his six hands dismissively. “Enough with these formalities, Abyssal. Why did you summon us?”

“Best make it quick,” Hades added, folding his arms over his chest. “The Players will be arriving at their Departure Towers. Time is short.”

The darkness seemed to shift with irritation at their ill-mannered tone. It wasn't that this shift was seen, but felt.

“Very well,” the Abyssal responded after a brief silence. “I have summoned you all here to provide information regarding the next few months that follow this recent Reversion.”

Hera, despite herself, was now leaning forward expectantly awaiting the Abyssal's next words. Persephone mimicked her movement.

Hades, Satan, and the black knight stood silent.

“I will no longer be able to assist you with intelligence concerning your enemies' whereabouts,” the Abyssal continued.

Satan cursed under his breath at this news and Hades simply shook his head. They had all expected this eventuality. The very existence of The Reversion displayed the power of the ones who created the world. The monsters' loss of power was another signal that indicated their lack of control. It was an inevitability that they had all been secretly denying up until this moment.

Persephone spoke, “So the Creators have control of everything now? Is that it?” she asked.

The rest of them stared into the darkness for confirmation.

“The Creators do not necessarily have control of this world.”

No one was able to conceal their shock at this statement. For those whose faces were concealed, their shift in stance was more than enough to reveal their surprise.

“What do you mean?” Hera asked.

“The Reversion was not enacted by the current Creators. In actuality, this Reversion was set to occur at a certain time by a specific Creator, one who is now deceased. It is set to revert all monsters back to their original states of power. It is the final preparation for the arrival of the Players.”

Hera considered the words of the Abyssal for a moment. The Creators were not actually in control of the world?

“I am not quite sure what you mean,” Hera said.

“You say that the work of The Reversion was not done by the Creators, yet you say that a specific Creator is the cause of it," Hades said.  "So what's to stop the others from making another one?”

“It is because the other Creators do not know how to initiate another Reversion.”

Hera stared blankly into the darkness. She observed her comrades and noticed the same stillness from all of them. They had all been painstakingly forming plans around the possibility that the Creators were watching them, always waiting to intervene. One wrong move and they would wield their power to reverse not only their strength, but perhaps the world, or even shift time and space.

Are the other Creators really so powerless? Hera thought.

The Abyssal interrupted their thoughts. “This world and its denizens are currently beyond their influence. The Creators are limited, and are only able to regulate the one with true knowledge and control of the Players.”

Hades asked the pertinent question, “If they aren't in control, then who is?”

The Abyssal answered, “My sister, Lo.”