Chapter 9: Ashtaroth

T here's a lost sheep in my playground. The lamb is tall, with straight auburn hair pulled into a severe ponytail. She somehow manages to look both innocent and confident. I observe her struggle with the golem, the way she moves, and the choices she makes. A well-trained, strategic entity. I watch her with curiosity, which is more than I have bothered to feel in… centuries? Eons?

There is something familiar about her. She is clearly one of the ‘soldiers' the Council acquired to assist with our little problem. So, she's a halfling of some sort, and I wonder whether it's the angelic or demonic kind. There's that curiosity. It is surprising and intriguing, and I'm not yet ready to part with this newfound reemergence of emotion .

As the golem approaches the little lamb pinned under the rocks, it does so with as much relish as such a creature can feel. She must have given it quite the chase. The slight wrenching feeling I get in my gut – clearly the unwillingness to have this curiosity disposed of so quickly – decides my next move for me. I swipe out my arm and unleash a burst of hellfire, which disintegrates the stone pinning the auburn-haired lamb. More importantly, it disintegrates the bonds holding the creature together and, as it flies back into The Phlegethon, it disassembles into inert stones.

The lost sheep recovers from the surprising turn of events quickly and her head snaps in my direction as if drawn by a magnet. I wonder if she would have sensed me, had she not been distracted. My gaze follows a drop of perspiration which lovingly slides down her neck. I wonder how the sweat of her exertion smells. More curiosity.

I grin and disappear into the ether. It's time to show my intriguing, fiery curiosity, who the shepherd is in this area of Hell.