The World of Rhune

Chapter One: Hell

     She was on the floor, hands, knees, caked in dirt and blood oozing out of all the scratches upon them. Her face was red and blotted around the eyes, her mouth set downcast in shame. Cheeks were stained brown with tear tracks. Burnt, crispy black clothes covered her, tormenting her further. They were her old clothes, the ones she’d worn all her life. Somehow, they’d managed to always stay white back then. Now, not so much.

     Scorched, black wings drooped in disgrace, and fully bloomed out behind her, barely fitting in the room where she was knelt. Her hair was burnt black. An amazing contrast, since it had only been a stunning blonde only a few days ago. Worst was her eyes, the way they glowed red, the fire of humiliation ablaze in them, the gnarled emotion of rage and hate kindling behind them. She didn’t know if half of the fire in her eyes reflected the fiery landscape she now mourned in.

     Hannista picked up herself from the scenery of broken stones and brick rising up from the ashes and dirt upon the floor, but could not remove herself from the flaming walls that gave her no hint to what was on the other side. The floor radiated absorbed heat from the walls, and the dirt was a dark, dark gray. A mix of dirt and the unending little flares of ash that was sprinkling about. Wisps being tumbled through the air by invisible heat waves. Hannista might not have seen the waves, but she could definitely feel them.

     The room was blistering hot, and it seemed to grow hotter with the more negative emotion she felt about it, her position, the pain, everything. There where no benches or seats of any kind. Any furniture was invisible to her eye. There were no windows, nothing but baking heat from the walls. And when she tossed a split piece of rubble into the walls of flame, it winked out of existence with a steady hiss and one sharp, loud crack. The crack of splitting in half.

     “Where are you, Hannista? No, this is not your home” she mumbled to herself as she clasped her hands around herself, believing none of the words, and searching for a light source besides the fire. Heaven…The Crown had been the light…was there any such thing here? Tears began to skate down the sides of her cheeks, and evaporate before they hit the floor. More redness added to her eyes, and they grew puffier. Even worse and more humiliating for her.

     Then, the land beneath her feet lurched suddenly. It started a steady, strong shake cause her to yelp as she took steps to steady herself, but only helped to cut her bleeding feet even more. Hannista toppled unbalanced, and fell into the floor. She noticed she fell into the floor, not onto. She shrieked, her hands grasping about the dead space she was descending into, as if she had a chance to grab and hang on to.

     She plunged down, and then hit a wall immediately, crashing down with her whole self onto slightly softer surface from the broken stone. It was rough, orderly stones instead. Hannista could tell from her face, since she’d landed on it. . She tried to get up, shoving herself up onto one knee, the trying to fold a supremely sore wing back into place. Pulling back loose hair with her bruised fingers, and rubbing her raw face. She’d landed in a tangled mess, falling on top of herself and solidly too. Hannista managed to pull herself up, only a knee to go when she noticed the figure across the room.

     Black shadow was pasted and leaching along the wall across from her. She looked around; this place really had no walls, just a never-ending circle. But the flames where different than the other room she’d been in. Yes, it had flames, yet these where mellower, but flashed with rage and obese aggression. Deeper colors, more individual flames curling and smoking. The harsh light cast grim shadows upon the floor, and when her hands brushed across the floor, sand rolled along with them. That was when the figure shifted.

     Black had started to move, until it became shadowy, and the soul was as shady as she had ever seen. That was one of the descriptions she’d given to evil, way back up there before her dreadful fate. It walked forward, a smile was white, but looked yellow as it reflected the multi-colored flames of the wall. Each step the features became clearer. The clothes were colored black, a long tunic and sandaled feet. A cape met his wide, perfect shoulders, black on the top and a contrasting red on the inside. Gold broaches kept the cape attached. Well-worked hands, yet not wrinkled, seemed to curl half way, then uncurl at memories Hannista had no idea of. But the sneer, oh, she had memories of that sneer

     “Why, now young Hannista, don’t bother with that knee. Too much work, wouldn’t it be? To hoist yourself up so high? Nay, I like you better on your knee anyways. If I’d been more reasonable earlier, I’d have warned you of my opinion sooner, girl. You could have saved the trouble of pulling up both.” The shady figure stepped closer, and closer, his face being illuminated more and more. Hannista held her breath, begging that it wasn’t him.

     But of course it was, she was the one who’d crashed onto his front door step.

    “Surprise, surprise! Ooh, and my birthday wasn’t even until next month. My, you’ve a knack of timing, don’t you? Falling all…the way…down here.” Lucifer enunciated the last words slowly, and his eyes glowed the ugliest red she’d ever see. That was probably bias though, evil was ugly to her. And he was the soul of evil. “Uh, uh, uh! Hannista! An angel like you? Saying something about your own master like that! Well, it seems to me I’d normally be flattered, but from the way I just know you meant that to be, I’m hurt. Real bad too!” Lucifer cackled, his thick lips smiling, revealing sharp white teeth. And then something happened that shocked Hannista. Her lips immediately parted at her torture from the words, and a long, slick hiss echoed from her.

     It radiated and echoed throughout the room, and the flames turned a shade darker. Her eyes widened, shocked at her response, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. She’d just been so…upset, angry, a boiling pit of emotion and surprise. He’d spoke, calling himself her master, and he’d heard the thoughts! The thoughts that were her’s!

     “Now, now, Hannista, no need to be feisty. If you insist though, it wouldn’t be too hard to find a whip somewhere…Ah! Here we go…” Lucifer had pretended to look around for one when he flicked his hand, and there it was. Deeply black and shining and glinting from the fire. Pure leather, braided until the end, which split into five tongues. She saw a deep red on the ends of each tongue. It’s, it’s only the fire…reflecting, and the ends are just in the…yeah, the perfect position to catch the rays, not blood Hannista lied to herself. Her sad attempt at calming herself only resulted in her heart flying more. “Now, darling, I really don’t want to use this. That would be sooo unfortunate. But if I must, I most certainly shall. Don’t doubt it for a second.” He let it uncoil, and touch the floor to show the deadly looking five feet of it. “Now, back to business. Hannista, you have fallen from heaven, straight down to here.” Lucifer made a spinning motion with his finger, then mimicked it falling and then crashed into his hand. “So! I must say, welcome to Hell! Liking it much? Oh, don’t be a pest, talk girl! Really I had believed you would be interesting. I guess my apple enticed the wrong little angel…”

     The instinct to hiss, which Hannista realized was a new ‘natural’ instinct, threatened to sound again. She bit her tongue, and sharp pain filled her immediately. Her eyes pricked with tears, and she swallowed blood. She’d forgotten, her teeth were sharp, now. And they were sharp enough to cut her tongue in a light bite.

     It made it worse that the little ignominy was right infront of the Devil. “Aww you are so cuh-ute, Hannista. Oh I remember my first bite…oh wait, there never was one,” Just the mockery in his voice made her want to lunge again. But flames surrounded them, and Lucifer still held the whip. Together, they didn’t seem like a pretty option to Hannista. “Well atleast you have some soul and not too much stupid la-de-do-da-day in you, like some of the ones who have fallen. You start to wonder what you guys have done in heaven. But still, feel the heat yet?” Lucifer closed his eyes for a second, and then sighed in relief. Immediately the flames on the walls turned a deep red, half of them blue, and the room cooked hotter than she’d ever thought possible.

     “Feels nice, doesn’t it? Such a relief, I’m sure you’ll figure out why later.” Lucifer’s arms were wide and welcoming to the heat.

    Hannista, on the other hand, was inching away from the blue. It seemed like it just might hurt if she got even close to it. She really didn’t feel like any crisper hair, and there was barely anything left of her garb as it was. She fingered the sad, burnt cloth that had been made for her by a friend. She wondered if Avalene missed her, or had let her go from her heart already. She remembered doing that during the Fall of the Angels, millennia’s ago. So many angels…gone. And now her, too. Hannista gritted her teeth. Lucifer had done that, he’d been the one to cause the riot at all, persuade the angels to his side, or unwilling to stay with either.

     Hannista looked up at Lucifer, really the first time since he’d stepped up closer to her out of the shadows. And it really wasn’t what she expected, when she looked closer.

     Definitely not what she had expected.