As the Denmother’s ritual suddenly blazed to life, Skrakch felt a wave of weightlessness that suddenly washed over him, as the rational part of his brain desperately tried to remind him he was going to be okay. This was the Denmother, he could trust her. She knew what she was doing…

Of course, the rest of his mind immediately began screaming in pure panic as the Ratling found himself drifting in an empty void, darkness surrounding him in all directions.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…. Fuck!” Skrakch screamed out the obscenities as he felt himself turn head over heels, but he couldn’t even hear his own voice as it was swallowed by the abyss. His stomach turned somersaults, as it leaped over and over at the terrifying change in gravity.

He’d spent most of his life sticking to the shadows of Dray’Mel, so one would assume he was used to the darkness, but this was on an entirely different level.

This was somehow more than darkness. It was pitch black, unnatural. The void was all-encompassing, even his own body suddenly undetectable to him, with the tip of his snout simply… gone. It was horrendous, soul crushing even. It gave him time to reflect on himself, time to really focus on his deepest darkest insecurities-

“Oh thank the Gods.” Skrakch tried to exclaim, as he noticed a break in the monotony. It was so far away but he could barely make out the smallest blip of a strange, yet welcome, golden mote of light.

Thankfully, the small orb was moving closer to him by the second, but as Skrakch stared at it in astonishment, he quickly came to realize it was less of a golden sphere, and instead the top down view of a truly massive city.

There were dozens of spires covered in exquisite works of art sprawled out below him, lines of gold detailing heroic acts of bravery that had been painfully recreated in breath-taking detail on the obsidian stonework. Even as he plummeted towards this mysterious location, Skrakch was able to make out entrancingly massive gemstones of all colours and sizes embedded in the city’s buildings that gleamed with unbelievable polish. The Ratling could identify most of them, although a few of them were utterly foreign, even to an accomplished thief like himself.

His eyes were drawn to a particular spire which was studded with seemingly hundreds of strange, milky teal looking, pampel-cut gemstones. He’d never seen anything like them before. As he continued to fall, he tried to make note of the spire. Perhaps he’d have time to come back to it. Rare gems, never the likes of which had been seen in Dray'Mel, that each would be worth serious coin…

As he fell further, Skrakch could tell that the city itself was dozens of times larger than Dray’Mel, and everywhere he looked, he could spot another beautifully designed building complimenting the area around them with their open designs.

It was a breathtaking sight… only slightly ruined by Skrakch’s sudden realization that he was moving towards the city at what would surely be fatal speeds.

He began to desperately claw at his bandolier, as he tried to find a piece of charcoal so that he could inscribe his black leather tunic with a Rune of Featherfall.

His panic reached a feverish pitch as he sought out something to use for his spell, even as his mind subconsciously focused on his soon to be landing spot. He cursed himself as not being more prepared for this. But then, how could anyone be prepared to fall through the sky like a bloody stone dropped from a rooftop?

Luckily, the area he was bound to crash into was an open field with lush vibrant emerald green grass. That would at least cushion his fall. Perhaps if he was lucky, he thought grimly, he’d just get horribly maimed rather than killed.

As the ground hurtled toward him, faster and faster, Skrakch noticed a shape in the middle of the field. It was a large and rectangular, easily four times his height in length. And it was covered in…

'Pillows?' Dozens of them in fact, each covered in silky looking purple pillowcases.

“What in the Hells?” Skrakch cursed to himself, as he took in the rest of the field, and the unexpected sight waiting for him. Although at this point, he thought to himself, should he really be all that surprised? A massive bed in the middle of a field in a huge gem encrusted city? That was practically pedestrian.

Spread outwards from the oversized bed were dozens of what appeared to be brown Ratlings, each in the act of cavorting with one another. He could spot hundreds of the creatures, males and females both, and all of them were fully focused on their carnal task.

Most of the creatures were in pairs, but Skrakch could spot a few larger groups where…

Distracted as he was, Skrakch let the shock of the sight stop his efforts, and his complacency was rewarded as he plowed down into the bed with the force of a meteor.

He swiftly found himself ensconced deeply in the finest of silk sheets that felt more delectable than anything he’d ever imagined. They felt buttery soft against his fur and he seemed to almost melt into the plump mattress. It felt like his stress and worries were bleeding out of him, whisked away as a sense of calm and safety washed over the Iskrin.

It was a special kind of bliss on a level that Skrakch had never known, so incredibly vastly far removed from his usual bedding of discarded rags and the occasional bit of old straw.

Which was how the Mage found himself unable to resist the heavenly allure of the most comfortable bedding… if only for a moment.

‘Because something this good can’t be real.’ Skrakch stubbornly clung to this idea, as his innate pessimism urged him to reach out with his claws and tug and shred his way to the surface.

Even just pulling himself through the strands of ripped bedding left his fur sticking up as goosebumps traveled up his arms, the textures inviting him to blissfully enjoy himself.

A small part of him just wanted to fall backwards into the soft pile, becoming one with the silken sheets for as long as he could, but you’d have to be a fool to trust such a gift.

‘Especially after falling through a Gods Damned Hells portal.’

It wasn’t a massive leap to make such an assumption, with the massive orgy Skrakch had seen just before landing. Considering the explicit nature of what was going on around him, and the damned fact the Denmother herself ran a brothel, it wasn’t a stretch to assume he’d been sent to a layer of the Hells themselves. Likely one dedicated to Sin and Wanton Debauchery from the looks of it.

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As Skrakch finally found his way to a side of the bed frame and pulled himself loose and tumbled down to the grass waiting for him below, he cast a suspicious glare around himself.

The cavorting Ratlings ignored him which didn’t really come as a surprise, as he tried to ignore the sounds and smells of the undulating bodies. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a particularly pretty looking female and felt a wave of lust.

It would be so easy for him to give in and have a little fun. After all, how long had it been?

‘No, not a chance in Hells.’ He mentally berated himself. He had a task to do.

The Denmother may have surprised him with the fact she was a Chosen, but he still fervently believed there was no way she could so easily cast someone to their eternal damnation, so the Iskrin could only assume there was a method to getting out of… wherever he was.

“Well, that’s the thanks I get for arranging such an exciting entrance to my city.” A melodic voice called out from behind Skrakch, causing the Ratling to spin about in surprise. “Personally, I thought all of the mating to be a tad on the nose, but you’d be surprised how often mortals get blindsided by their groins.”

As Skrakch turned about with a caustic remark on his tongue, the sight awaiting him caused his words to die in his throat. Sitting on the side of the bed behind him was… Perfection.

He had trouble thinking of the creature as anything less, as her snow coloured fur practically gleamed, it was so resplendent Her whiskers were unerringly straight and positioned just right on her dainty nose. She made the other female Iskrin Skrach has just lusted over look positively ugly in comparison, such was her beauty.

All his life, Skrakch had looked at his fellow Iskrin’s eyes and wondered how they could be so… vacant.

But the albino Iskrin that stared down at him with her head resting in her palm practically radiated an air of mirthful indulgence. Her eyes were as bright and red as the Purene Ruby. Even her tail was stunning, wrapped around her hips and dangling just so, as the absolute vision reached out and tapped the side of the mattress nearest to her with perfectly pointed claws.

“Come now Skrakch, it’s rude to stare at a lady you know.” She smiled at him cheekily, her eyes practically ablaze with life. She put one pointed claw to her lips and tilted her head to the side, as if she were considering, before adding, “Actually, there’s a decent chance you wouldn’t know that, considering how little you’ve engaged with female Iskrin.”

“W-who. What are… Wha?” Skrakch mumbled incoherently as he struggled to reign himself in. Suddenly all the amusing reactions he’d seen Zacharias and Meekknuckle display around their potential mates made more sense. Not that he was comparing himself to bloody Zacharias of all people.

Though the thought of those two fools did manage to ground Skrakch back into the moment, the Ratling shaking off his stunned silence.

“I mean, you must be the Demon who was interested in meeting me.” Skrakch forced himself to stand naturally, trying to resist giving away anything more in his body language. “It’s certainly an interesting opening tactic, but I’ve seen better.” He bluffed with what he hoped was an impassive nod toward the Ratling orgy.

“You wound me, dearest.” The albino rested her paw on her chest, feigning hurt, as her crimson eyes continued to shine invitingly like a pair of rubies. “Though I can appreciate a mortal with a bit of bravado to him. You have no clue how boring having everyone just throw themselves at your feet can get.”

Skrakch let a sneer cross his face, as he pulled himself to his feet and adjusted his leather tunic with what he hoped was an air of nonchalance.

“It takes more than a few gemstones and some pretty pictures to rattle me, plus it’s pretty obvious this is some kind of illusion.” Skrakch replied.

“Oh, this is no illusion, though I suppose I can understand why you’d think that. It’s not everyday a mortal gets dropped into the city of Auridine… living ones anyways.” The Albino said coolly.

She gracefully dropped to the waiting grass, and walked closer to Skrakch as a gentle smile crossed her face. “No, your spirit is truly in the Hells now, Skrakch. It took me quite a few favors to get you down here, but I just couldn’t resist.” She purred.

“Forgive me if I don’t immediately take the literal Demon at their word. Not when they’re clearly about to break into a speech about how I should willingly trade away my mortal soul anyways.” Skrakch retorted, resisting his urge to back away, as the other Iskrin came to a stop uncomfortably close to him.

He could smell her musk. It was just as perfect as the rest of her. Vanilla mixed with a hint of the finest Bloomflowers. It was intoxicating but the Ratling remained resolute. There was no way he was going to give into the charms of a Demon!

The Demon paused for a moment, before a look of delight stole across her expression before a peal of what seemed to be genuine laughter burst forth. “Oh my, that is absolutely adorable.” She raised one of her paws and gently poked at the center of Skrakch’s chest, her claw digging slightly into his leather tunic.

“I’m not going to try and steal away your soul Skrakch. Why would I bother? You’re already heading down here when your time runs out, after all.” She continued, an impish grin spread across her features.

Unable to stop himself, Skrakch flinched backwards and swatted away the offending paw. “More trickery, no doubt. You’ll need to-“

Skrakch’s voice cut off in his throat, as his vision abruptly warped and the two Ratlings were suddenly standing in a smaller, more private room.

It was certainly as exquisite looking as the outside walls had appeared. There was a thick purple carpet plush under his paws. The circular walls were made of obsidian and highly polished until they almost gleamed. Judging by the walls alone, they were obviously in one of the spires.

Part of his attention was grabbed by the rows of books lining the walls. There must have been hundreds of them, with leatherbound and golden gilt spines. Some of the titles were truly astonishing and Skrakch could feel his paws itching to grab a tome or two.

Even more impressive were the alchemical tools that were setup in the corner to his left. Neat wooden shelves stocked with jars and bottles of almost every ingredient he’d ever seen. Strange runes were etched into the obsidian tabletop, glowing slightly red.

To his right were a pair of plush couches covered in red velvet. Between the Demon and himself, rested a small obsidian table with an expensive looking china tea set spread out before him. It looked totally incongruous amongst the rest of the room, but Skrakch could smell the sweet rose tea in the air.

But most of his attention was captured by the large leaded window that lead out to the city he’d arrived in. He stepped up to the polished glass and stared at the impressive view laid out before him.

If Skrakch had any doubts as to the size of the city, he couldn’t deny the sheer scale of it as it stretched off towards the horizon, countless spires one after the other. But what he was staring at was much closer than that.

There was a colossal rift in the sky that demanded his focus, a tear in reality that seemed to shimmer between cities and rivers, or volcanos and cobbled streets at random in a blend of locations. He could see glimpses of ice covered tundras, small rustic villages, vast forests. There were hundreds of them and they kept switching rhythmically, almost as if the rift was breathing.

And dropping through this terrifying rift were hundreds if not thousands of mortals. Humans, dwarves and elves made up the majority of the falling creatures, but there were more races falling through the rift than Skrakch had ever seen. He could just barely recognize some of them from the books he’d read back in the Dray’Mel, but others were a total mystery to him.

From where he stood, he could make out some of their terrified faces as they plunged into the depths of the city. Their mouths, or multiple mouths in some cases, were all open wide in utter horror as they hurtled closer and closer to the ground.

Unlike his own cushioned landing, these unfortunate souls were all falling towards a massive black cauldron which was filled to the brim with boiling pitch of shimmering molten gold.

As far away as he was, Skrakch knew he shouldn’t be able to hear their screams as he watched their flesh melt away under the intense heat, but the cacophony of wails managed to reach him anyways.

“It’s absolutely beautiful, isn’t it?”

The Demon’s serene voice brought Skrakch back into the moment, as he staggered backwards and met the gaze of his captor.

The white-furred Iskrin had claimed a high backed seat facing the window, but her blood red eyes remained fixed on Skrakch’s own as he tried to recover from the gruesome sight.

“Welcome to my realm, the second layer of the Hells themselves. Welcome to my city of Lust.”