Inception

Human souls who went to the Nether Realm had two paths to take. The first dumped the truly incorrigible—murderers, rapists, and the like—in a vast, empty field devoid of grass or weeds. They’d spend their days in sweltering heat while the tears of the damned rained down from an oxblood sky full of dark crimson clouds.

The other path was for the unsaved. Those souls found themselves in an empty room. They felt the heat, heard the moans and screams, but had no idea where they were. As fear set in, Anubis or one of his helpers would arrive. The condemned quickly learned that they were fucked over and then were sent to whatever level of Hell.

Supernaturals didn’t have the fortitude for either path. They could teleport if they had the skill. Then, journey through the winding corridors of Hell. Most usually ended up at the Inner Circle Club—the entertainment center for demons—where they could find a guide to the proper sector.

I found that to be a major waste of time. Thankfully, Claudius and I had direct access. There was something to be said about being either family or someone the king liked to fuck.

We emerged just outside of a massive set of double doors with a skull embedded into each one. Claudius placed his hand on the gleaming white bones, and the eye sockets blazed red. Metal scraped against the stone floor as the doors swung wide. We crossed the threshold, leaving behind the wails of the wracked and the oppressive heat. Instantly, we were hit with an odd stench—a unique blend of brimstone and copper.

Spanning the distance between the door and Ashmedai’s throne was a long red carpet, but it wasn’t what it appeared to be. If one gazed upon it long enough, a slight ripple could be seen. I sniffed the air again.

Blood?