Prologue
The depths of the Underworld
A long, long time ago
It was a damn good day to die.
Varin crossed his arms over his bare chest and leaned against a sharply jutting edge of phosphorous black rock. The smell of sulfur and molten lava blended with the acrid stench of fear, drenching the damp air. He sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the heady mixture. Glorious. Like everything else about this place . Although he’d been appointed Demon Guardian Overlord almost a millennium earlier, the euphoria that came with receiving new souls hadn’t yet begun to fade. Time had no meaning in the dark place beneath the mortal realm. Here, there was nothing but suffering and everlasting torment. The culmination of countless lifetimes of sin. An intoxicating, potent rush heated his blood, bringing with it a torrent of pleasure. He reveled in it as he watched vessels carrying newcomers sway on the black waters of the underground river. The roiling turmoil beneath the surface of the stream mirrored the pounding of his heart. Frothy whitecaps blossomed to the top, stirred by the passing of the long, sleek ships.
Varin flexed his arms, feeling the rock dig deeper into his back. A tang of pain slid down his spine, shooting a jolt of adrenaline and arousal into his veins. He waited patiently as the newcomers disembarked, mere pale shades of the humans they once were. The occasional scream or wailing sob reached his ears, filling his soul.
This was what he was meant to do. Serve the Prince of Darkness as his most trusted Guardian of the Underworld, oversee the arrival of souls and ensure none ever crossed in the other direction, through any means.
“That’s the last of them, Master.”
He shot a glance to his right, where a long, ghostly shadow rippled in the hot breeze. “How many?”
“Three hundred and nineteen.”
“That’s twice as many as yesterday,” Varin said. “Baal will be pleased.”
The souleater bowed low at its shapeless waist, materializing into a solid figure. “If you’ll approve the delivery, we’ll transfer the new souls into your care immediately.”
Varin scanned the paperwork the shadow handed him. Etched in black on a pristine white surface, the names of those condemned to spend eternity in torment glistened on the form. The record was separated into two sections, and Varin’s gaze immediately jumped to the bottom, where a dozen names stood apart from the others.
His grin broadened. “The list of Forgotten continues to grow. You’ve done well.”
The apparition quivered with barely contained excitement. His dark eyes glowed red-hot for a moment, reflecting the unsettled waves of the river.
“Do you think the Prince will reward me?”
Varin made a show of thinking about it. He’d served Baal for as long as he could remember. In all that time, the Prince of Darkness had never shown a shred of appreciation toward anyone. The Lord of the Underworld was quick to punish for the smallest infraction, but positive reinforcement wasn’t part of his leadership philosophy.
“Perhaps.” Varin glanced back at the names that had caught his attention. Forgotten souls belonged to humans captured before their time and hauled into Hell by force rather than by fate. Many had been destined for the Other place, but would now never see it. For that reason, the Forgotten were among the most prized of prisoners. Unlike those who’d earned their stay in the Underworld, the Forgotten maintained their humanity after crossing over. They felt the sweet burn of every whiplash ten-fold. They could never die, and they would never escape the depths of Hell.
They were Varin’s triumph. Before him, no other Guardian Overlord had ever been able to draw the souls of those who had not yet passed over to linger on the other side. But Varin had known it was possible. He’d trained the souleaters himself. It had taken a century of constant instruction and countless fruitless journeys into the mortal realm,
The depths of the Underworld
A long, long time ago
It was a damn good day to die.
Varin crossed his arms over his bare chest and leaned against a sharply jutting edge of phosphorous black rock. The smell of sulfur and molten lava blended with the acrid stench of fear, drenching the damp air. He sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the heady mixture. Glorious. Like everything else about this place . Although he’d been appointed Demon Guardian Overlord almost a millennium earlier, the euphoria that came with receiving new souls hadn’t yet begun to fade. Time had no meaning in the dark place beneath the mortal realm. Here, there was nothing but suffering and everlasting torment. The culmination of countless lifetimes of sin. An intoxicating, potent rush heated his blood, bringing with it a torrent of pleasure. He reveled in it as he watched vessels carrying newcomers sway on the black waters of the underground river. The roiling turmoil beneath the surface of the stream mirrored the pounding of his heart. Frothy whitecaps blossomed to the top, stirred by the passing of the long, sleek ships.
Varin flexed his arms, feeling the rock dig deeper into his back. A tang of pain slid down his spine, shooting a jolt of adrenaline and arousal into his veins. He waited patiently as the newcomers disembarked, mere pale shades of the humans they once were. The occasional scream or wailing sob reached his ears, filling his soul.
This was what he was meant to do. Serve the Prince of Darkness as his most trusted Guardian of the Underworld, oversee the arrival of souls and ensure none ever crossed in the other direction, through any means.
“That’s the last of them, Master.”
He shot a glance to his right, where a long, ghostly shadow rippled in the hot breeze. “How many?”
“Three hundred and nineteen.”
“That’s twice as many as yesterday,” Varin said. “Baal will be pleased.”
The souleater bowed low at its shapeless waist, materializing into a solid figure. “If you’ll approve the delivery, we’ll transfer the new souls into your care immediately.”
Varin scanned the paperwork the shadow handed him. Etched in black on a pristine white surface, the names of those condemned to spend eternity in torment glistened on the form. The record was separated into two sections, and Varin’s gaze immediately jumped to the bottom, where a dozen names stood apart from the others.
His grin broadened. “The list of Forgotten continues to grow. You’ve done well.”
The apparition quivered with barely contained excitement. His dark eyes glowed red-hot for a moment, reflecting the unsettled waves of the river.
“Do you think the Prince will reward me?”
Varin made a show of thinking about it. He’d served Baal for as long as he could remember. In all that time, the Prince of Darkness had never shown a shred of appreciation toward anyone. The Lord of the Underworld was quick to punish for the smallest infraction, but positive reinforcement wasn’t part of his leadership philosophy.
“Perhaps.” Varin glanced back at the names that had caught his attention. Forgotten souls belonged to humans captured before their time and hauled into Hell by force rather than by fate. Many had been destined for the Other place, but would now never see it. For that reason, the Forgotten were among the most prized of prisoners. Unlike those who’d earned their stay in the Underworld, the Forgotten maintained their humanity after crossing over. They felt the sweet burn of every whiplash ten-fold. They could never die, and they would never escape the depths of Hell.
They were Varin’s triumph. Before him, no other Guardian Overlord had ever been able to draw the souls of those who had not yet passed over to linger on the other side. But Varin had known it was possible. He’d trained the souleaters himself. It had taken a century of constant instruction and countless fruitless journeys into the mortal realm,
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