1. Soul Crystals

1

Soul Crystals

Morgana

C ontrary to what many mortals believe, Hell is not this scorching lava pit deep below the many dimensions of their reality. It's more like a cave I might stumble upon while on a walk in a forest from their world. But the structure of the cave is where the parallels start and end. Hell is as bright as they believe it to be, but it is not fire that illuminates my home; it's the Soul Crystals. Crystals glimmer in every inch of the realm, and much like the residents that call this unforgiven dimension home, they come in all shapes and sizes: point wands, clusters, stones. No matter the size, one thing never changes about the Soul Crystals; they are always a piercing cyan blue. The ice-cold environment is the product of magic and the reason it was given its name.

The Soul Crystals were created by Chaos magic back when the world is first formed, shaping the crystals that in turn construct this cave realm. Therefore, that magic is intertwined in the essence of each and every one of them that compose the realm. Chaos magic strives to bring only death, destruction, and suffering to its target. It is this magic that determines the cold to be a more apt place for souls to feel the unbearable torture of Hell. Hence, the underworld is no fiery hellscape; it's a freezing one.

If you ask me, it's very appropriate and convenient, as much as it is a reflection of the demons' soulless vessels. Not to mention a perfect tool for working demons. There is a reason why mortals describe the cold as painful and uninhabitable at times. They are not just referring to physical limitations. It has spiritual as well as emotional consequences. There is only so much the mortal soul can take of the cold before those little shards of ice chip away at its very being, leaving only emptiness and insanity in its place.

Ever wonder why they say loneliness and sadness makes them feel cold? That's their soul begging for warmth. A warmth they won't be achieving here, as they freeze for all eternity. Although a mortal would associate brightness with light or fire, things that cause feelings of warmth, here brightness is anything but. All our illumination comes from the Soul Crystals, they smolder the soul with temperatures it cannot withstand. The light shines on all energy that makes up a soul, nothing is hidden or unseen by it. Eventually all souls fracture under their ever-present penetrating brightness.

They are the reason my name is Morgana. My father wanted me to have a name that represented my own brightness while simultaneously paying tribute to both of my heritages. In the mortal realm, where my mother is from, Morgana means "great brightness," and on my father's side of the family, it signifies power. While I approve of my name, I would have preferred if my father had slept with a demon instead of my mortal mother. It would have saved me from having to have this conversation with Lucifer, who may have many names among mortals: Lucifer, Satan, the Devil…but I call him "Dad."

I decide to take a shortcut through the labyrinth of dungeons where many demons are at work, torturing souls. My loyal pet, Alistair, follows two steps behind me as I take in the screams on my way to my father's throne room. Nothing like the calming screams of the dead and forsaken in the morning…

I enjoy a particular prolonged yell of anguish as I climb the main entrance stairs before throwing open the deep raisin double doors open with a flick of my wrist. Dad is not amused by the interruption the doors made as they slam against the black marble walls of the throne room. Lucifer sits in his black and gold throne made from hellhound skin, horns on either side of the headrest pointed to the ceiling chair, their length only surpassed by my fathers real horns, a look of disapproval on his handsome face as he dismisses his subordinate he was conversing with.

"Morgana, how many times do I have to tell you to not interrupt me like that? You have to knock." He scolds me, frustration shins in his ruby red eyes as he leans back in his chair. In the corner of my eye, I see Alistair kneel on one knee to show respect to his king. I scoff before manifesting a chair to dad's left while striding confidently across the hall and sitting down.

Alistair is there in a second getting down in front of me. I lift my feet on his shoulder as I recline backwards and turn to look my dad in the eyes. "I wouldn't need to interrupt you if you let me work in the dungeons years ago. I don't need to wait until I am eighteen . What good is it being the devil's daughter if normal demons' rules apply to me?" I say bitterly while brushing my hair over my shoulder. I look down as I feel Alistair shift under me, he holds out a goblet with wine stretched backwards towards me. I take it wordlessly and sip, enjoying the bitter tang of O negative blood sprinkled in.My pet knows me well and doesn't use the subpar AB negative most. I hum, reaching down and ruffling his dark curls as an acknowledgement of a job well done. Even though he only recently turned eighteen, finally making him a full demon, he's got my preferences down in a short amount of time. He won the privilege of serving me by winning in the fighting pits. Despite that, I've tossed him back in a few times to make sure I've still got the best serving me. Alistair is a physically attractive demon, with glowing blood eyes and short dark curls, covered in his family's tattoos and piercings. I enjoy looking at these, but he is like many demons in other aspects. I find him pathetically weak like most demons down here, even if he is Alastor's son. Alastor is the best torturer Hell has ever seen and dad's good friend, but that means nothing to me since Junior has short horns. A physically unattractive trait in male demons. Hell's demons, forbidden to choose their mates. I, on the other hand, can pick whoever I want as a future partner due to my status.

"I told you before Morgui, torture is difficult. I want you to be a kid, enjoy it, and have fun while you still can. Besides, your birthday is not far away, and you'll ascend soon after that, I'm sure of it. All you'll do is work and let me tell you, an eternity is a long time," he sounds exasperated.

"Don't call me Morgui. I'm not five anymore, dad," I roll my eyes. I'm tired of waiting around, I just want to work. Sure, using my powers to mess around and make mortals walk into walls for no reason is fun and all but it eventually gets repetitive.

"You'll always be my little girl, Morgui." Dad states with a warm smile he only reserves for me.

"Yeah, whatever…" I sip my wine in silence knowing how this conversation is going to go by his answers. My dad tends to be a stubborn man, he doesn't change his mind easily or often.

"Why don't you go above ground today? Have a little fun. Take Junior with you and explore for a while," dad suggests. Figuring the conversation is over I agree with the idea. I get up and vanish the cup from my grasp.

"I'll see you later, dad. Alistair, come." I order as I start walking towards the doors again. I feel his presence looming behind me as I open one. When I reach the bottom of the steps once more, I turn to him. "Where should we go today, pet?" I ask Alistair. I lift my hand to caress his arrow piercing on his right earlobe. He really does look good in piercings.

"Wherever you like, my lady," he responds, voice deep and soothing. I hum, pondering his sad excuse for horns hidden in his curls.

"I wonder if I should pierce your horns," I state out loud instead of responding.

"If that would please you, my lady." I smile at his agreement.

"Better not, don't want to bring more attention to their size. They are ugly enough already." I say before thinking where to go explore today.

"Yes, my lady." He agrees, voice neutral as always.

"Hm, I think I know where I want to go." I smirk. Black shadows grow from my feet and engulf us both, leaving nothing behind except the screams of the damned.