Gone were the walls of sharp rock and the dimly lit gate, replaced by a high-ceilinged chamber of polished wood with a floor of smooth yet firm red carpet. But a few steps before Derzina sat a tall woman upon a delicately wrought disc of gold suspended in the air. Her maroon gown was marked by a haphazard collection of slits, exposing far more of her alabaster skin than Derzina thought tasteful or proper.

Yet far stranger still were the crimson patterns that moved across the woman’s body, changing as they went, and her eyes of pure red. It seemed unlikely that she could even see, yet the woman’s gaze roved across Derzina’s body as if taking in every detail. Derzina stood, rooted in bewilderment, until the woman ceased her inspection and locked eyes.

“The gate told me of your coming,” she said, her voice breathy yet devoid of emotion, “but I did not expect you to be so wonderous. Greeting our occasional new arrivals is delightful enough as it is and you are of a far higher grade than most.”

Smiling vacantly, she gestured toward another golden disc that floated over to Derzina.

“Sit,” she commanded.

“I apologise for my rudeness,” Derzina said, sitting down and finding that her seat did not shift in the slightest beneath her weight, “but are you Mortisflor?”

“Of course I am,” Mortisflor snapped, irritation flaring before vanishing beneath the same empty smile as before. “And now that we’ve been introduced, I’d like to speak with your companion. Atasimon, I believe?”

“That’s right,” Atasimon said, sitting up a little straighter as she took over. “Did you want something from me?”

“Is that really you in there?” Mortisflor asked, chuckling as she looked over Derzina once more. “You’ve certainly fallen on hard times.”

“Strange, you act as if we know each other yet I’m certain we have never met.”

“Oh, but we have. We fought against the Demon King together, I was the one who slew him. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember the battle’s end with perfect clarity. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you were not present at the battle nor did you slay the Demon King. It was Koristena who struck the final blow, I saw it myself.”

“Ah yes, Koristena, it’s been so long since I’ve heard that name. I’d half-forgotten it, but that is what I was once called.”

“Don’t be absurd, Koristena died with the Demon King.”

“I can see why you might think that,” Mortisflor said, her long gown pooling on the ground as she stood up. “I thought it myself for a long time, but I came back.”

She tilted a hand toward her chest dramatically and continued, “I know you must hardly recognise me; I hardly recognise myself sometimes, but I am the same god you fought beside all those years ago.”

“If that’s so, then you must be able to prove it.”

“You still doubt me?” Mortisflor asked, eye twitching.

“I do, as would anyone else. What business would a god possibly have living in a place like this? Only a lunatic would live here by their own choice.”

Mortisflor threw back her head and laughed, then snapped her teeth together. “You’re not far off the mark there. And fine, if you demand proof then I shall take it upon myself to enlighten you.”

Raising her hand, Mortisflor plunged it straight into her own chest. Blood ran down her body as she pulled her flesh and bone aside to expose the spearhead embedded within her. Enveloped in dark flame, its scintillating metal shone with a multi-coloured hue under the light amidst Mortisflor’s organs.

“He left me with a little souvenir after our last meeting,” Mortisflor said. “I trust this serves as sufficient proof. I doubt his spear is part of anyone else you’ve met. Though on the off chance that you have, be sure to send them to me. I’d love to get properly acquainted with such a rare individual.”

“I see,” Atasimon said, swallowing. “Well, you weren’t wrong, this has certainly been enlightening. I suppose you may indeed be Koristena. How did you survive?”

“After I came back, I used to ask myself that same question all the time. How? Why? But you know what I eventually learned? That it didn’t matter. It matters only I am here now in all my glory.”

“You do seem to have made a home for yourself,” Atasimon said. “But I didn’t come here to talk about you. I understand that Meztraxia visited your city, do you know him?”

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“The Demon Lord? Yes, I remember him well. Why do you ask? I take it you’ve had the pleasure of meeting him?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but yes, I encountered him recently. During that encounter, he displayed the power to negate my magic. Do you have any idea how he gained such a power? Or if there’s a way to negate it?”

“Of course I know how he got it,” Mortisflor said, with a knowing smile as she fluttered her eyelashes, “I was the one who led him to it in the first place. Though that’s probably not how he tells it, the ungrateful bastard.”

“You led him to it?” Atasimon asked, in disbelief. “I thought you seemed strange, but I didn’t realize you’d go so far as to align yourself with our enemies.”

“Our enemies?” Mortisflor’s eyebrows shot up and she laughed. “You clearly haven’t been paying attention; we have little in common now. Nor are we on the same side. I’m on my own side, and whatever enemies I may have are of my own choosing.”

“So that’s it then,” Atasimon said, “you’ve turned your back on us. I don’t know what madness has taken hold of you, but how can even your deranged mind justify aiding our mortal foes? Have you forgotten all the suffering they have brought upon us and those we protect?”

“I have forgotten nothing,” Mortisflor spat. “And I refuse to be lectured by someone of your limited understanding. Normally I would smite someone for speaking to me so within my own realm, but as we have a shared history and you are so recently arrived, I will spare you. I suggest you watch your tongue more closely from now on, if you wish to keep it.”

She gestured dismissively toward Atasimon and continued, “Now begone. Experience what my city has to offer and perhaps you will come to understand my point of view.”

Before Atasimon could respond, their surroundings changed once more and Mortisflor’s chamber was replaced by a narrow street that terminated in a slender door of gold. The squat buildings around them were lit by a combination of a dull red glow that surrounded the stone and swirling orange lights caged within small glass enclosures. Though they were free of Mortisflor and there wasn’t a drop of it in sight, all Derzina could smell was blood.

“That was far from the reunion I would have hoped for,” Atasimon said internally, giving control back to Derzina.

“Indeed, I didn’t realize gods could be so…” Derzina trailed off, trying to think of how to phrase it politely.

“Mad. She was completely mad. I think we’d have had more success trying to reason with Meztraxia. I can’t imagine what kind of terrible place her city might be.”

Derzina looked around, the stone around her was rough and covered in a layer of grime coupled with the stench of rot

“Though it’s not pleasant,” she said, “it’s still better than most of what we passed through to get here.”

“Perhaps the city itself is somewhat hospitable,” Atasimon said, “but I’m far more concerned with its inhabitants than I am with its architecture. They are likely as unhinged as the one who rules them, if not more so. I suggest you exercise all possible caution in your dealings with them.”

“The gate we spoke with earlier wasn’t so bad, maybe they’re all like that.”

“That would be quite a stroke of fortune, particularly considering our recent run of luck.”

“Well,” Derzina said, moving to exit the seemingly deserted street, “regardless of what they’re like, it doesn’t appear we’re going to get anywhere without encountering those who dwell here.”

“You’re right, just don’t expect them to have anything to offer beyond whatever madness their god has seen fit to inflict upon them.”

Derzina would have liked to refute the goddess’ prediction, if only she held any hope of encountering another reasonable being down here. After all, why would anyone in their right mind live here? A city far below the surface, steeped in foul magic and ruled by a mad god seemed a terribly unlikely place to find someone willing to aid their cause.

Leaving the dull, grimy buildings behind, Derzina discovered that Merstaneon’s residents did at least possess some regard for beauty. Meagre as their homes were compared to those of the city Derzina had lost, their exteriors were clean and painted in a variety of hues. Even if most of them were inevitably red.

But their appearance only caught her eye for a moment, as it was of little significance relative to the presence of the building’s occupants. Two men were engaged in heated conversation in a doorway, both wearing bright colours with equally vibrant colours painted on their skin.

Outlandish as their dress was, it barely registered to Derzina in light of one of them being a demon. Sighting her as she emerged from the street, they ceased their discussion and turned to Derzina.

“Have you just come from the palace?” the human asked, both of them looking at her in disbelief.

“I was briefly a guest of Mortisflor,” Derzina said, “if that’s what you mean.”

“And you’re still in possession of all your limbs?” the demon asked, despite it clearly being the case.

“Yes, as far as I know. Does that come as such a surprise?”

Derzina found it difficult to muster much hatred toward the demon what with the strangeness of her encounter with Mortisflor and the bizarre nature of this city.

“Of course,” the human said, “you’re the only person who’s ever left the palace unscathed. But I can see you must be new here. You should join us; we’re headed to the Royal Gala.”

“I appreciate the offer, though I’m not sure I’m dressed for such an event,” Derzina said, looking down at her battered formerly-white robes.

“You’ll be fine,” the demon said. “No one will care what you’re wearing once we tell them your story. Speaking of which, how did you ever end up in the palace?”

“I was talking to the gate, and it sent me to see Mortisflor.”

“The gate?” the human asked. “How did you get there?”

“I was climbing into the Great Rift and I found it.”

“Then you’re from beyond the rift?” the demon exclaimed. “You absolutely must come with us; we want to hear all about you.”

Though Derzia felt a certain sense of trepidation at attending an unknown event in such a mad place, she could see little reason to refuse. They still needed to gather information and Mortisflor had told them to experience her city; whatever this gala was, it seemed a prime opportunity to do both.

“Very well, I’ll join you. You said it was a royal gala? I didn’t realise your city had royalty.”

“Oh, it doesn’t,” the human said, “at least not right now; that’s what the gala is for. I’m sure it must seem confusing, but it will all make sense once we get there.”

Looking into the welcoming eyes of her hosts, Derzina took a deep breath and said, “Then lead the way.”