World Of Terrors

Preface

The characters and main storyline have been adjusted throughout my story writing. Though the mysterious world of mythical creatures was created long before this book was ever an idea.

When my brother and I were kids, we would go behind this giant tree in our grandparent's backyard and magically travel to other worlds. A couple were ridiculous like our favorite book Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, a world of doppelgangers, and so much more.

My obvious favorite would be the world where all mythical creatures ran away to; searching for a place they felt welcomed. A world where my brother and I could spend all day with werewolves, giants, tricked by pixies, wars with wizards—live in a world away from our own.

I wanted others to experience the wonderful world my sibling and I had conjured in our little brains—to be able to find themselves in another world when the one we live in gets a little too much for us to handle.

Chapter One

Initium

In a world like this people retire for the night. Others awake to the morning light peeking through the shadows of closed curtains.

Night shows his face to the West, watching and protecting the ones that slept. Sun smiles upon the East, bearing witness to people rising to meet the day, either in dread or happiness. Far from the bustling of people and cars, below fast-pacing feet, beneath the sleeping houses, lies something unknown.

Beneath the crust and mantle, beyond the smoldering calderas and molten rivers of lava is a world believed to be only a myth. A populated land of sorts rests, buried within the core of the Earth.

Here the air is so hot you can feel sweat pool inside your pores in anticipation of the release. Flames delicately kiss your skin with a lingering bite. Single-story structures of rough-hewn ebony, knapped obsidian, and polished onyx lining the streets host the denizens. Imposing spires in their stygian glory twist and stretch upward from the bedrock.

The most significant among the torrid plots of infernal real estate, however, sits off in the distance. Upon the mount of blackened earth, a castle of diamond overshadows its surroundings. Here is the land of nightmares, cursed by endless night, streets forged with black diamonds, an all too familiar place: Hell.

A crack of a whip sounded, echoing throughout the opaque kingdom.

On the outskirts of this magnificent dominion over the mounds of coal, the souls of trapped men and women labor and suffer at the hands of their captors. They wailed as they tugged upon ropes bound to colossal barrows laden with obsidian blocks. They screamed and cried in pain, the ropes tearing into their flesh like claws. Sweat cloaked their ghost-like skin.

Demons wielding nightmarish scourges thrashed the criminals and sinners.

Like men, the appearances of pure-bred demons vary, but all have a set of features. Their legs are often compared to those of a donkey, with horns spiraling wildly out of their heads, and ponderous, leathery, bat-like wings. Their eyes glisten with darkness black as tar above their mouth, a maw filled with hundreds of jagged teeth. A demon's arms terminate in claws upon their slim, bony hands.

Incoherent commands sneered from the malignant spirits to the enslaved. Watching the damned humans struggle made the beasts chortle. They ignored their pleas, continuing to shame them for their sinful ways and desires.

Among the clatter and routine torture, an unsettling commotion was erupting in the deepest dungeons of Hell. From the smoldering city, a frantic demon zoomed into the night sky.

The demon, by the name of Pythios, searched the clouded Kingdom. His dead, sooty eyes frantically scanned the oblique world. Orbs gazing at the coppice of drowned and decaying plants, the hellbent province beneath him, and even the blistering canals filled with melted scoria, but nothing stuck out.

The demon barked a low frustration, his sharp teeth poking through in a sneer. Where did that little white rat go? he scrutinized, a vexation broiling his stomach. He blared out a cry as he snapped his wings into flight. Pythios soared over the glimmering magma to the overcast crystal donjon — where the legendary ruler himself lay hidden.

A palace of endless glass halls and crystal glimmered in the only light of a dull moon. The smell of fresh lilies and roses engulfed the abhorrent outside stench of burning coal. Ablaze torches and golden chandeliers lit the palace to life in a golden glory. And each illustrious room overlooking Hell had an assorted color to give it character.

As you go deeper into the cryptic glory of the establishment, you arrive at the largest, most glorious room of all, hidden in its walls.

Towering doors of thick, foggy glass creak as they welcome you into their grandeur. Recently polished gold floors shimmer by the light of the oval ceiling, adorned in a scene of balance between all the realms and their leaders. Pillars of golden marble hold the glorious crystal canopy. Darkened light illuminated the room, its particles of orb-like dust shimmering about. They swirled as they fell further from the housetop, surrounding the beast under the dome.

In the elegant throne room, upon an intricate crystal chair, sat a large shadow of a man.

His body was the size of a giant, towering over his seat. No distinct figures defined his shadowy face and body. But covered in a veil of smoke and shadow, two crimson, cat-shaped eyes glared into the distance.

The penumbra of a man leaned back against his stiff throne, bored beyond belief. His eyes fluttered shut every so often, his ears tuning in and out as they struggled to listen to another being in the room.

A small, glowing orb of mist trickled about the chamber, ranting off his worries and fears.

The King of Hell drew a deep response that echoed through the baroque room. The tone was deep and smooth, like warm honey and tea on a calming day. Tell me, what is to happen in the future, my dear friend? he drawled in fatigue.

The teeny orb stopped its infernal passing and hurriedly spoke up. Unlike the king's booming voice, the sphere had an annoying little squeal that lifted the end of each sentence.

Sire, do you truly wish to know? he stuttered with hesitance. The universe is telling me horrid signs, all of which I believe won't be to your liking.

Oh, please Cyneas, does it seem that I care anymore? The king groaned, falling further into his throne. So much has already happened that fate is not of much importance to me.

But, sire, Cyneas, the oracle, stumbled over his words in the hope he would not have to answer.

Silence, Cyneas!

In fear, the little orb floated away.

The shadowy being leaned toward the ball of mist with intrigue. I need to know why you are so hesitant about the future? The king's eyes glared through their crimson twinkle.

Cyneas was delaying his next move from fear of the king.

An hour before they met in the throne room, the old soul received a vision of the future so detailed and so specific that it frightened the oracle. So much he had seen in his vision—betrayal and deceit, a war filled with death. A revelation like the one he had seen would not have bothered him as much, but the horrendous detail made him unsettled and sickly.

Though it was but a vision, and the old soul had seen many in his days of living, Cyneas knew right away the horrible truth about what he was given. Everything that was told to the poor soul could not be stopped. Everything was in its rightful place and told all too late. Once he received a vivid vision, Cyneas knew nothing could stop it from happening.

Nothing but following the instructions Fate has given.

In defeat, he slowly floated forward. His frosted glow amplified. His voice was calm, but fear echoed beneath it. Fate herself says that a great accident will occur. One that leads to the loss of the Seven Sins of Hell. Cyneas choked, seeing the king's eyes harden in concentration. The king's hand flicked, indicating he wished for Cyneas to continue.

With a shaky breath, Cyneas continued the prophecy. On the sixth of April, it begins. The Terrors of Hell will reign upon the four lands. A defender will rise to greatness, bringing forth a war to not only destroy the madness but you, the king, along with it.

Cyneas’ glow simmered as he waited for the king to speak.

The shadowy giant remained silent in shock. His crimson eyes widened just a fraction. A sudden burst of deep laughter pulsated throughout the room. The king cradled back and forth trying to contain his infectious chortle.

Cyneas uneasily joined in, confused as to why he became hysterical in the first place.

The shadowy titan towered over Cyneas, an amused glimmer in his blood-red eyes. Preposterous! Cyneas, they are guarded by the best in my whole kingdom! What makes you think they will be able to escape?

Cyneas remained silent, not knowing how to express his worries. Quiet consumed the air, draining the energy between the two. Crimson eyes shifted from humor to worry, unspoken words passing between the king and oracle.

A window magically thrusting open interrupted them.

Pythios glided into the throne room, landing on one knee in a bow as he addressed his king. Your highness, Mara has escaped!

Cyneas snapped over to the demon guard, his voice frantic at the news. You mean, he stuttered, the angel who the Arcs told us to lock up and watch?

The shadowy giant rolled his eyes, leaning back into his diamond throne as he interjected. Let her escape, it is not like she can go anywhere. She is hated by all, a fallen angel. The king chuckled darkly. No one but us can help her.

You don't understand sire! Pythios wailed with wide eyes. She is stronger than we believed. She has beaten the guards and by recent discovery was last seen heading in the direction of the iron cell, where the Seven Sins are held.

A gasp of fear sounded from both the king and Cyneas. Pythios ignored their stares as he continued, My men and I have been trying to pinpoint which cavern she trailed down but haven’t found any distinct indication of where she is.

The king stood with a thud and the throne room shook. What's the date today? the king demanded, peering down at Pythios.

Pythios peered in confusion at the sudden question.

The titan grumbled at the dazed look he was receiving. In human days, Pythios! What is the date today in human time?

Uh, April fifth. But soon, I believe, it will be the sixth in human time. Why sire?

The king glared at Pythios as Cyneas stayed still, silent in shock. The prophecy, he whispered.

The King of Hell growled, pointing to Pythios, and hissed, Get the men and find her! We cannot let her escape!

A siren wailed eerily throughout the land.

Sinners and beasts alike looked to the darkened sky in question, wondering what had happened.

Demon guards were on edge, searching and waiting for the fallen angel to appear. Looking over their shoulders, around dark corners, blocking doors, desperately trying to catch her before any more damage could be done.

Down a murky, dewy tunnel under the demonic dominion, we now enter. A catacomb built of rotting beams and muck. Cobwebs adorn all corners.

An old, wooden door separates the wickedness of Hell from the rest of the kingdom. Two guards stand at attention behind the doors, sealing them with a rim of fiery magic from their fingertips. Their eyes glare a fiery onyx as they finalize the protective spell and prepare for the woman to come.

Thump.

A beat sounded.

Thump.

Then another.

The boisterous stride made the ground tremble.

The guards wobbled at the motion of the floor, struggling to steady themselves and their weapons. The demons heaved and sweltered as they exchanged panicked glances.

Thuds resonated behind the extensive timber door. The sharp vibrations drawing closer and increasingly tumultuous.

The guards gulped down the quiver of their lips. One prepared a tighter grip on his sword. The other spread his fingers to allow a mystical burst of flames to engulf them. The ground convulsed as whatever walked behind those doors gradually neared. At the peak of the destruction, with the doors violently shaking and the ground rattled, it stopped.

Silence filled the hall with the sound of dusty air flowing by.

The demons glared at each other in confusion. The men lowered their guard, and at their weakest, the tremors hit once more.

The door blasted off the hinges with a vociferous boom in its wake. It flung toward the demons, rendering the poor guards unconscious from the blow.

Dust and dirt flew about the room like a thick fog. Out from the mist and shadows walked a woman. She strolled forward with a proud stance.

Opal eyes that bore all the sadness and anger in the world trailed about the room beneath a furrowed, bleached brow. Her hair draped like old dusty curtains to her calves, a unique pattern of ombre sable and pearl. A white tattered and besmirched dress adorned her small bodice. Ribs protrude through the thin material to match her hollowed cheeks. Her feet were bare and as bony as her body, dirt darkening her soles and lengthy toenails. Her demonic appearance was anything but the once beautiful angel she was. The over-paleness of her skin looked like walking death.

The matron took a creeping step, then another. Hauntingly she inched bit by bit as if she had not walked for decades. A wicked smirk grew on her chapped lips, striding forward with an egotistical sense of direction. Gaining overconfidence, she stepped out onto the fallen doors, crushing the demon guards underneath them.

Though unconscious, they released a low, painful groan.

The woman of mystique gave a mocking glance over her shoulder. Thank you, fellas, she grinned. Her filthy feet dragged her further down the musty catacombs in hopes they would lead her to a place she had only heard rumors of.

The fallen angel turned the corner at the end of the next hallway. The sweet silence, she relished, was soon ruined by the padding of hooves.

A group of guards ran toward her with cries of war.

Looking bored, she allowed the nine guards to surround her, all pointing either a weapon or a fistful of magic in her direction. A tired sigh escaped her, and she gave a dainty, delicate look to the demons around her.

The guards only glared back, not buying the front she put on.

The fallen angel sighed sadly. I really don't wish to fight, she cooed with a pout. But a gust of wind made her clasp her throat. She squealed and choked, her hands flying to the claws gripping her neck. Her eyes widened, trailing down to see a demon.

He grinned and raised her above the ground, her feet leaving the comfort of the dirt as his grip tightened. A trickle of black blood fell from where its claws dug into her skin.

The woman's eyes hardened at the arrogant demon beneath her. Alright, I guess we're doing this my way. Her nails grew into talons as she stabbed the demon in the left breast. The other demons' eyes widened as they stood frozen, watching the scene.

The demon guard screamed as the angel dug her eight-inch nails further into his chest with a painful squelch. His eyes fluttered shut as she ripped out his shriveled heart.

Her feet gracefully landed back on the ground as she watched the demon fall dead. The other eight guards turned to her, glaring as they released an inhuman shriek.

One demon came to her right with a sword raised over its head. The fallen angel sensed the presence, scoffing at the mere attempt of the demon. She swiftly knocked him down with a roundhouse to his face.

Another guard came forward, fiery hands ready to terminate the outcast. The grinning woman outstretched her hands tauntingly, talons ready to stab.

One after another, the demons attempted to apprehend the fallen angel but to no avail. They perished in her wake.

With the last one standing, she grinned maniacally, standing over the guard with the sickly onyx sap dripping from her fingertips. The poor guard looked to each of his fallen brethren, mind racing. He watched, abhorrently, as her smile grew. Dirty, rotting fangs protruded through her dead, purple lips.

The demon gulped, turning to flee in hopes of escaping the same demise. As his hooves hit the ground, attempting to lift the other leg, he found he could not. He was stuck. He struggled, hyperventilating as his body ignored his mindless commands to take a step and run.

Unbeknownst to the demon, a black mist surrounded the aura of his body. The fallen angel held her skeletal hand toward the coward, chuckling at his wistful attempts to flee. Wiggling her fingers the magic danced around him and took control of his every movement. The guard jerked as the magic whisked him around to face the nightmare of a woman. It dragged him on his heels toward her.

He wanted to cry, to scream, but her control would not let him. The mist pulled him nearly nose to nose with the woman.

The ill-fated demon sweltered and sniffled as she leaned into his face. Her clawed finger trailed against his cheek at a teasingly slow pace. Watching as he hissed, smiling as the black ink seeped from his jowl.

A sinister smile twisted her lips as she roughly grabbed his chin, forcing him to stare into her soulless orbs. The woman clicked her tongue, inspecting the coward. Pity, you could have been of beneficial use to me. But you and I both know you would be a coward and run away. The demon shivered in disgust, watching as her serpent tongue slithered forward. You know, I haven't had a good meal since I used to live in the Great Beyond.

The demon desperately shook his head, No, please! I will do anything! he begged, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

The fallen angel tapped a black claw on his cheekbone teasingly. How about, no?

With a cry of fear, the demon watched as her eyes coiled to the back of her head. The opal iris faded, replaced by white with charcoal veins. Her mouth expanded with her rotten fangs retracting into her body. Leaving nothing but a black cavity.

The demon whimpered, begging her to spare his life, his tears now cascading.

A blood-curdling scream rang from the demon's throat and throughout the daft catacombs. The poor soul watched helplessly as his body went limp and weak, a lightness overcoming him as he stared into the face of death. An ebon haze flowed from his mouth into the fallen angels.

The malicious woman grinned at the bitter, sweet taste of a soul-filling her senses. Her weakened self flourished at the newfound power that emanated from the being in her grasp.

His body shook sporadically, his darkened skin morphing into sheet white. As the pasty color overtook his being, the body of the demon stopped convulsing. He was a ragdoll in the palms of the angel, lifeless and limp without a mind and soul.

She discarded his lifeless body to the floor. Dirt consumed the man in a thick cloud of dust. The woman ignored the stench of dirt filling her nose, recollecting herself from the magnificent meal she just had.

Her eyes trembled to a draw. Her teeth poked through the reddened gums of the once void. Her bony body expanded, regaining a bit of muscle and strength. The once protruding ribs retracted. The fallen angel beamed as her forked tongue licked her lips clean to savor the taste just a little longer. The opal of her eyes returned with a renewed glimmer of strength.

With a skip in her step and a commodious amount of confidence, she stalked down the labyrinth. Moving further and further into the forbidden tunnels of Hell.

Through tunnels upon tunnels in this endless dark maze, breaking beams propped up a stone or dirt wall. One would think the halls would be nicer to emulate the rest of the underworld—but when concerning the deadliest beings, the style could be of less importance.

Her steps echoed down the next corridor, alerting the guards at the end of it. As she rounded the corner the demons appeared with spears and magic. They dashed toward her at inhuman speed, eyes trained and focused on stopping the malevolent spirit.

The fallen angel kept her pace, bringing a delicate hand forward. A shot of inky sparks and streaks came flying from the tips of her pointer.

The men had little time to process the shock. Her magic dashing them against the walls of the catacombs. The cavern shook slightly on impact with particles of dirt dropping like fresh snow.

An intricate, grand archway stood between the fallen angel and her goal. A devilish sneer twitched her chapped lips and notched cheeks. Her eyes glimmered with triumph as her sole-crusted feet dragged along the surface through the arch.

The entrance led her to a dark, rocky room with black tile and thick walls of dust. The room's ceiling towered, darkness consuming the highest point. Shrouded in a cloak of darkness was a colossal and exquisite glass double door. Made of bulky gold-stained glass that hid the truth of what lay behind those enrapturing doors. Iron vines swooped and slithered over the frame and handle toward the middle of the entry. The creeping plant entangled in the center and created a lock-like barricade from anyone unauthorized to enter. The gateway glimmered exquisitely though shrouded in heavy twilight.

The woman scoffed at the extensive preservation of a mere cell with an irritated eye roll. She observed the door, wondering just how she would be able to penetrate it. Mara smirked with a deliciously malicious idea.

She knew the tricks of Hell fair enough from her studies—not to mention from being locked away with other devilish prisoners for a near eternity in its dungeons. These charmed doors could be fooled as easily with another charm, oh the irony, she thought with a toothy grin. Her eyes gleamed while her magic grew stronger, a hushed spell recited under the woman's breath. A sickening crack emanated from her neck as her body began to contort from her incantation.

Bones snapped and shifted her into a different person. The beautiful ombre grew short and turned to stringy coal. Her legs cracked into the bent ones of a mule as her body became masculine and her clothing morphed into her skin. She became the illusion she wanted, and she was ever so proud of it. The fallen angel gazed upon her new form. She had transformed into the demon whose soul she had devoured.

The fallen angel stalked with pride to the barricaded doors withholding some of the world's most powerful corrupted demons. She raised her muscular arm to the door as she waited for it to grant her entry. The iron vines twitched and shook at the sudden presence.

Breaking apart from its ball-shaped latch they slithered from the door toward the illusion before them. The vines wound around their arm and shoulder, inspecting her as if her body was the key. Fooled by her magic, the vines retracted back toward the door, a mistake made unknown to them.

A boisterous tick echoed from the vines' momentary movement and the glass-stained door steadily glided open. The fallen angel tittered darkly as she stalked forward with her hooves stomping into a cloak of dust around her.

Mara's mouth twitched as she recited back her incantation while passing through the intricate entrance. Her body morphed with each step into her original, enchanting form.

The room was grandiose compared to the cell she was locked in for so many eons. The floors were dusted gold and worn from many years of use. The ceiling resembled its grand entrance of towering feelings and dulled brick walls. Seven towering cells gilded with Tuscan sun bars contrasted the grand room. The golden beams glowed with the soft red tint of a protective charm preventing whatever lay within from escaping.

A growl of irritation and ghastly moans sounded from each of the mysterious cells. The woman’s bare feet glided farther into the room, the groaning and cries slowly ceasing at the sense of this unknown visitor.

Standing in the center of the room with her overbearing ego, the fallen angel's eyes glazed with the narcissism of her accomplishment. Chuckling with a sinful grin she spread her arms wide to her newfound companions. Friends, she exclaimed garishly. Seven pairs of narrowed eyes appeared from the shadows of their unwanted homes, peering irritably at the woman before them. They growled and hissed at the woman as she spoke. I have come to free you.

They did not believe her and snarled at the woman.

A thunderous female voice came from the cell with a pair of glowing green eyes. Free us? Her voice was sultry and sweet but laced with rage. The female sin’s laugh followed, so vile and sickening it sent shivers up the fallen angel’s spine. We do not need a poor soul like you to save us. What could you offer that would make us want to leave and join your side?

Another voice piped from the shadows, a British male with an evil glimmer in his purple eyes. Assuming that you would require our help for some plan in your mindset?

The woman of mystery grew annoyed at their lack of interest. Her composure faltered from her irritation as they mocked her intelligence and strength. A deep breath expanded her chest as she attempted to calm her frustration.

Proceeding with her proposal, a sneer stitched onto her lips to mask her temper. I have come to make a deal, she smirked devilishly. You see, I need a little help. I plan to conquer all the worlds—taking over not only Hell, not just the Mundane or the Terror world, but the Great Beyond and the other godly realities.

The seven pairs of eyes widened at the proposition, switching from shock to mischief.

The fallen angel paused for dramatic effect. If I release you, we shall bring utter chaos to the Humans. Next, the horrid Terror World. Finally, we shall move forward to the Great Beyond. With the fall of the hierarchy, we can take easy control of the other realities. And you, Mara gestured to the seven, can have all the souls and chaos you so wish.

From the darkness, smiles grew upon the caged sinners’ faces. Their pearly fangs protruded as they chuckled and giggled in agreement.

The fallen angel grew giddy, ecstatic that she had convinced the deadliest beings in all the realms to agree to her elaborate scheme. She clasped her hands together and continued, Do we have a deal? The seven crawled out of their shadowy homes, revealing the towering spiritual glow, and nodded slowly with devilish intent.

Just then, a shaking boom sounded throughout the room. The walls shook as dust and dirt fell from the ceiling and walls. They released a high-pitched screech at the sudden, ear-wrenching earthquake. Their widened eyes narrowed to glare as they stared just past the shoulders of the devilish angel.

Step away, Mara, a deep voice interrupted her show.

The fallen angel sighed, turning to look at the King of Darkness. Took you long enough Lucifer, she chuckled, placing her hands on her hips, playing along with his glare. I was beginning to think I was being forgotten!

Lucifer's dark eyes narrowed to the angel. He lifted his demonic staff toward her in defense. Mara, I ask you to stop this. You do not know what you are messing with. The King of Hell sucked in a breath, crimson eyes glimmering in despair as if reminiscing about a memory. By continuing down this path, you will cause utter chaos and a world of destruction. People will run rampant with hate and anger.

Mara scoffed, contradicting the words of the devil before her, But, isn't that what you’ve always wanted?

Lucifer slowly brought his staff down. His eyes inspected the woman. He could not deny his past love for a chaotic world, the drive he had when he was a young soul. Those past thoughts and wants had driven him to succeed in the world. Once, Mara, I did once. A glare not faltering as he prepared for the battle ahead, But I grew up, realizing it would not only kill everyone else, but it would drag me with it. I am not evil anymore Mara, I only help control it.

Mara laughed with a shrug. I don't care about your pitiful story Luci. She stalked closer to the towering shadow, allowing her eyes to look up into his harsh crimson. Her smugness grew deathly with the loss of her enthusiasm. Her eyes hardened to a heavy scowl, a whisper falling from her rotted lips, You had your time, but now it’s an all-new beginning.

With a flick of her wrists and a quick spell, her magic shot out and enveloped the bars with a snug grip. The cell ceased its protective red glow and the gold rods retreated into the ground.

Lucifer gaped at the sight, caught off guard by the woman's sheer power he had not expected. Frustration fueled his emotions, but before Lucifer had raised his staff for an attack, Mara threw him off his tracks once again.

Wicked cackling was heard as seven-colored wisps lurched gleefully from their captivity. Shrill screams of joy burst in excited overlapping as the group swarmed the room. The wisp of red left the cheerful group of spirits to their savior, grabbing onto Mara and pulling her out of the room. The other six swooshed by Lucifer and pushed him to the ground with manic laughter.

The King of Darkness was left on the golden floors in surprise, watching as sheer improbability happened before his eyes.

Mara teased the king with her sickly sweet, echoing farewells, Buh-bye, Luci! A spine-chilling laugh resonated through the catacombs in the crazed woman's wake.

Lucifer sat on the cold ground, staring after the sins with a fiery rage. He would not allow this. He had to stop them before they reached the world of the living—and before they created far more paperwork for him to fill out. Wings of dark shade emerged from the king's spine. They snapped to life, and the air around his shadow swirled in bending power from its substantial force.

Lucifer launched himself into the air. Soaring through the suffocating halls at light speed. He searched for the escapees and his crimson eyes darted into every hallway in the maze. He zoomed down in many directions when a glimmer of pink dust flying down a different path caught his gaze. His wings snapped to a stop as he altered his course to follow down the opposite hallway.

A giggle echoed in front of the king as a flurry of lights illuminated the catacombs. A few meters in front of him, the sinners and the demonic angel did not take notice of the colossal being following them.

With a wave of his scepter, the king created an electrical current of red and black streaks. The fireball shot at accelerated speed toward the hellbent beasts. At the sounds of high-speed winds darting at them, they perked up and glanced over. Their high-pitched squeals caught Mara’s attention.

The fallen angel gasped and quickly whispered incoherent words to the sinners. All at once, they dodged the attack as Mara glared at the king, daring him to try again.

Lucifer cursed under his breath at the miss, but he would not be defeated so easily yet. He cast another their way, larger than the first. Six of them managed to avoid it but the red wisp was not as lucky this time.

Wrath screeched in pain as it was stunned on impact and burnt by the king's fire. Mara gave Lucifer a death glare at his insufferable actions, thinking up a solution to stop the man from advancing on her companions as well as herself. She raised her hand, swirling her fingers with another incantation and creating her own ball of ebony light. It grew with each inch of the king gaining speed.

The moment Lucifer was in close enough range and had readied himself to cast another ball of magic, the outcast angel smiled viciously. Feather-light words escaped her tight lips. Goodbye, officially, Lucifer. She flung the boulder-sized light from her fingertips down the catacomb to its victim.

Lucifer's crimson eyes widened. He darted to dodge the attack. Unfortunately, the midnight king was not quick enough, and he was struck on his right shoulder. He howled from the pain as it sizzled and