Hellheart

The midnight sky was an orchestra from Hell. Lightning whipped across the sky with the fury of snapped violin strings as the bellowing whale song of thunder shook the ground below. Icy rain fell into the sea which surged against the cliffs to the beat of an idiot metronome. Upon a spire of rock that jutted from the churning waters there stood a lone watchtower. It was the last remnant of a long-forgotten city, its pock-marked stones, the scars that held the tales of countless years facing the harshness of the sea. Against the brunt of the storm, upon the seaward balcony, Maia stood staring into the sky. Despite the violence of the storm Maia remained unphased and although her long hair writhed in the wind the rain did not touch her; instead fizzing into steam against an invisible sphere of magic that surrounded her.

The tower was somewhere between a prison and a sanctuary for her, she had stayed in this bleak region for half a decade after fleeing from civilisation, comfort, and the sins of her past. It gave Maia four walls and a roof to protect her from the snow and storms of the far North. Magic had turned the ruin into a home, a fire licked at a pot of boiling stew of rabbit and hardy winter vegetables. Skins of animals adorned the walls and floors whilst a coatrack held a thick winter coat with matching winter boots, still damp from her day of being knee-deep in snow. Lying against the winter coat was an ornately carved staff with a twisted head, locked into the head was a purple gemstone that hummed with energy. A band of pure gold secured the head of the staff and contained the symbols of authority provided by the Arcane Academy of Darien, given to scholars of magic deemed worthy of rank. Maia had been worthy of its significance once, but now the staff held the weight of regret and sorrow.

Maia looked over the edge of her balcony into the roiling sea below, the shattered bones of the destroyed city penetrating the ebb of the waves like an open wound.

“You could do it; you know. You could just end it all, right here, right now. Nobody would know and nobody would care, my love,” croaked the voice of Izel in Maia’s head. The rhythm of the waves was like a siren’s song to her and it called for her to fall into its cold embrace. “You’ll be free of my contract, free of the memories, free of the scrounging for sustenance each day. Don’t you want that, my love? To be free? To be happy?”

“Quiet!” Maia snapped as she spun to face the creature. It sat crossed legged in the air, a scaly forked tail whipping from side to side. Its head was that of a diseased goat, matted and scarred by an ulcerous pox. Its lidless, alien eyes were glazed over as if by cataracts and yellowing puss gathered into the corners of its eyes, seeping down its face. It bleated a laugh.

“I’ll get you eventually, my love,” it crooned.

“I don’t want to give you the satisfaction, fiend.”

In her anger, Maia had lost concentration on the magical sphere and within seconds she was soaked by the rain. She shivered in place, grabbing onto the balcony’s handrail to avoid a faint. The frozen rail chilled her hand into a painful cramp almost immediately, her cry of pain causing the fiend to bleat in delight again. Maia stormed inside the tower to warm up and change into some dry clothes. The demon stared at her throughout the process of her undressing, its rattling breath a constant reminder of its presence.

since you’re here, what do you make of this storm?” she said, as she threw on a warm jumper. “It’s arcane in nature, but why here?”

Izel looked out into the sky through the window of Maia’s makeshift bedroom and hummed to itself.

“It reminds me of home, my love,” it said.

“Hell?”

“Of course, my darling, it reeks of it. Can’t you smell it?”

Maia walked through the demon’s form toward the balcony, ignoring the stench as she passed through its gaseous body. She stared at the sky again through the glass of the balcony doors.

“But what does that mean, Izel? Why would there be a storm from the Hells here in Frostmare? How is that even possible?”

“It’s not, as far as I know, my love,” said the demon, “The archdevils are crafty though, so it can’t be good for you mortals.” It sneered at her as she turned in disgust.

“I assumed the archdevils were deep into their own civil war, why bother with mortals?”

“Mortals mean contracts, mortals mean souls, mortals mean pain, suffering and blood, my love. Why wouldn’t they want to intrude on the mortals? I’m sure that’s all some of them think about.”

“Could they ever reach the Mortal Plane?”

“It would take a vast amount of power to break the seals that bind them to the Hells. But anything is possible in the realms of gods and devils, my love.”

“The storm is getting violent,” she said placing a hand to the glass, “I don’t like this.” With a gesture, the staff from the coatrack apparated into her hand and with a word of power one of the runes carved into the staff glowed blue and a black hole opened in mid-air. Maia proceeded to place her belongings into the hole. Clothes, furs, pots, pans, food, water all went into the hole.

“A Portable Hole spell, very clever, my love!” said the demon as Maia emptied cutlery into the hole, “very clever.”

By the time Maia had cleared the tower, the storm was crashing bolts of lightning into the waves and the cliffside. Even through the glass, the smell of ozone was nauseous. Using the word of power again, the hole closed and Maia, now dressed for the elements, took a final look around the tower that had been her home, before descending the spiral stairs to the exit.

Maia forced the door of the tower open, sending snow scattering over the edge of the rocky hangnail that connected the spire to the land. The treacherous path was made more difficult by the raging wind that threatened to cause anyone crossing to join the snow in its plummet to the rocks below. Maia brought her hands together, raised them above her head and split them apart in a wide arch speaking a word of power. A sphere of magic surrounded her as it did on the balcony, but as she walked out into the wind, she was unphased by its power and crossed the precarious path like a practised dance. The snow upon the cliff parted in a five-foot radius around her, hissing as it boiled against the shield. Lightning continued to crash into the coast and Maia watched as the scattering of stones and earth rebounded from the Arcane Shield. Izel reappeared through a cloud of inky smoke next to her.

“Do you hear that, my love? A voice.”

Amidst the crashing of lightning and the moan of the wind Maia heard a voice, it was as if it was in the far distance but it unmistakably called Maia’s name. The voice was familiar but pained.

“Is this your doing, demon?” Maia scoffed.

“Not this time, my love.”

“I recognise that voice. Get out of my head, Izel!”

“I am always here, my darling, but this isn’t me.”

Maia walked away from the demon, causing the snow to part as she approached the cliffside and focused.

“Who are you?” she yelled skyward, “what do you want from me?”

She waited for another call but none came. She turned back to the demon, who showed no emotion. She called into the sky again, her voice cracking as she battled against the storm. She stormed back to the demon,

“Are you happy?” she sneered. Izel teleported to her and wrapped its claw around her neck,

“Perhaps you forget the arrangements of our deal, witch. I promised you knowledge, power, and truth. Don’t ever doubt the words of my contract, they are part of me and part of you. They bind us. They connect us.” There was no slyness in its voice this time as he raised Maia from the ground by her throat and whispered into her ear, “I could end you, right here, right now and there is nothing you can do.”

“Do it…” Maia managed to croak through her thinning windpipe.

“What would be the fun in that, my love?” it sneered with contempt, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Izel threw Maia aside into the snow with inhuman ease. She choked new air into her lungs and felt the fresh bruise around her throat as it pulsed with each rapid heartbeat. The demon had broken her sphere of power and Maia felt the full chill of the snow and the storm for the first time. Standing, she felt the sting of the wind against her skin.

“I need to rest,” she said walking back towards the tower, unphased by the demon who remained at its full height in the air. The voice in the storm called her name again and Maia stopped in her tracks and looked into the storm. With a crash, and a flash of white, Maia was hurtled backwards by the concussive blast of a lightning bolt. As the consciousness left her smoking body, Maia watched her tower collapse into the ocean. Then, all was black.