Abasi Orn stood tall above Dismas, and that is an understatement and a half. Dismas decided to kneel, not really knowing what to do.

  "Get up," said Orn, before turning his back once more.

  "What's he doing, Kornial?" he whispered.

  Kornial waved Dismas to follow.

  "Look behind him."

  "What... is that?"

  "Oh, sweet 'Birdylegs', that is a tunnel. Yes... A tunnel under construction. Magnificent piece, none other like it in all Vantirium."

  "Tunnels don't move. This is something else. Do you take me for a fool?"

  Kornial didn't answer. Just smiled.

  I need to get the hell away from here.

  You will stay, human-bird.

  Dismas felt Orn's voice in his mind. Shivers covered his body, though not his talons.

  "I... I'm sorry," he said, not entirely sure why, but the presence of Orn, along with its voice, was defeating him by default.

  "What did you say, boy?" Kornial sounded surprised, but still focused fully on the 'tunnel'.

  Dismas knew then, Orn possessed powers of telepathy. He knew of the possibility that some greater beings could use their mind in that way—but rumor had it, these powers were greatly varying, and near limitless.

  "Uh... What?" Dismas felt jolted awake by Kornial's voice. "I— I can't recall. Did I actually say something?" One of his palms landed on his forehead. He felt mildly sick. Line that precursor to real nausea.

  "Quiet you two. There's a lot to unpack when prying this thing open." Orn's body never acknowledged their presence. He waved and wiggled his fingers about in the air. Eventually, while Dismas and Kornial both were awestruck by the shifting tunnel in the air, as it stretched bigger and bigger, Orn's fingers spread to a halt.

  The minotaur's arms raised above its head. Light, in all colors, made a shape. Through it broke a hammer. Not just a hammer, but the hammer that broke the way of all things holy and descended into a mad spiral of unredeemable actions.

  "The hammer of lithiar. The hammer from heaven," Dismas stammered. "Do you realize what Orn does?" Dismas said, with trembling lips.

  "Of course I do! He told me all about it. This tunnel will lead the way to a new realm, and— Forget it. It is what it is."

  "He's not making a fucking tunnel, you halfwit! It's—"

  Both their heads locked in another notch. The 'tunnel' was shaping itself, color, form, the whole unreality of it. From looking like an acidic trip, but still a tunnel, now it started to burn. Everything within it. The flames formed arms of demonic heat, wanting their flesh.

  "Oh gods! This was not what you promised, Orn!" Kornial shouted.

  A half step, Orn reached back, grabbed the elder, and flung him into the flames.

  The screaming did nothing to save him.

  Orn resumed his original position, sprouting magical beams of energy into what now looked like a portal to Hell. It grew still, forcing Dismas to back away from the smoldering heat.

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  "You're about to witness what few living has," said Orn. The demigod looked more like an actual god then.

  Who are you, to have such powers?

  "Hell must defend Vantirium. Come, the hellgate is complete." Orn lowered his mighty hammer. Then unexpectedly extended a hand.

  "Defend—?" was all Dismas said, while at the same time moving, realizing, there's no telling a Hell Guardian 'No'. Hand felt like a tiny twig in Orn's hand. "Are we going... to Hell?"

  Orn lowered his horned head.

  "We are," it said, billowing out heated smoke from its snout.

  "Uh— I— ... Oh."

  What could ever be said about that? He was along for the ride, wether he liked it or not.

  Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't fucking pan—

  He was swept off his talons. Into the fire. He too would scream—scream like never before, and probably never after. Warm bubbles spread through his skin. He would try to close his eyes, only to discover he no longer had any eye lids to shut. It became too hot to scream, so he closed his mouth, feeling the burn through his nostrils.

  "Your connection to me will protect your life. My will be done," the minotaur said, as he steered deeper into hellfire, his hand cupped and with fingers forming a cage, out of which dangled Dismas' legs.

  "Hnnnnngh!" he whimpered at the excruciating pain. Curious thoughts gave in to touching his own face, followed by a lightning of regret.

  The fire never faded.

  "Hooow?!" Dismas managed to yell in traumatic panic, flames roaring past, whipping him everywhere.

  "Almost there. Do not concern yourself with the trivial."

  Orn's step broke the barrier of flame at the end of the hellgate. It closed and left no trace of itself.

  The shifting ground consisted of scorched bodies. All was black under a sky barred by a great oven, with vast crevices covering the infernal heaven.

  Men, women... even children sometimes—they rained. Hit the living ground with a haunting thud. There they squirmed, like worms with mouths, trying to communicate their suffering.

  Of course, no one tended to the lost. Orn trampled those who dared scream for help in his vicinity. Other than the minotaur, none capable of any strength, not for good nor bad, could be seen, through the fingers of the beast.

  "Whe—" Dismas had to stop himself to caugh, as black smoke had entered his lungs.

  If an exhalation can be mocking, Orn's was.

  "Where are we—" This time he had to blow his nose and cough up more flem. The contents were all full of sick. "going?" he finished.

  Orn turned his big head and glared into his hand.

  "Spare your words."

  Time went on. The further they got, the more miserable and pathetic were the living dead under them. To see them all was like a temporary antidote for Dismas' own pain. He who had just burned, stripped of his skin, could not imagine what these creatures went through—indefinitely. For they no longer resembled real people.

  "The pain. No words can describe the pain before me." Dismas wept. His own tears hurt his face.

  In the furthest reaches of his eyes, shapes started to appear. Then, what happened was too fast to even register. From one moment to the next, they appeared in front of one such shape. Dismas was dizzy from the experience, but could soon gaze properly upon the thing. The first thing grabbing his attention, was that this monster of Hell was standing eye leveled with Abasi Orn.

  Already one of the big ones. Shit, this ain't good... No shit, idiot. Dismas would instinctively roll his eyes, but they hurt like hell, quite litterally.

  He peered down from the three-eyed head with broken horns, to see more horn-like growths on its shoulders and sticking out of its back. What was this creature? No visible mouth to speak of. No... structure or rigidness. It was like a fluid thick tree with hints of areas where bodyparts ought to be.

  He had to look away, gaze landing on the charred bodies below, reaching for help. His help. He looked up, and there a young boy fell from the furnace, sending his last real powerful shriek of fear.

  It was all the same. Already, Dismas had been desensitized to the mad underworld.

  "Aouw!" As he searched for the source of his new hurt, he realized it was himself that picked at the blisters from the hellgate. Clutching his hands into fists, although it hurt to do it, he hoped it would alter his slipping sanity into not doing that again.

  Orn actually communicated with the monster facing them. Though, there was no imidiate telling if it understood or talked back.

  In the end, Orn just kept on walking to the next horizon. But this time there was something like... a forest? Or a... yes, a mountain.

  Good feelings were not possible in Hell, Dismas had quickly learned. That way, it came as advertised, at least. But the bad feeling he already had just turned worse.

  "Is that where we're going?" said Dismas. "Can I choose not to go? I don't want to go. I—"

  Every fiber of his being hurt.

  "Something new. I call it; Trial of The Fateless. You can decide for yourself if there's any ironic attachment to that name."

  "Wow. You waited an awful long time before speaking. Is... the coast—maybe not clear—but is it safer now? Can you help me with the pain?" Dismas struggled to find the posture that least distributed the stuff. "P— Please."

  Orn produced a disappointed frown.

  "Pathetic!" His gaze turned, horns and all, towards the mountain. "I regret speaking to such a child of the surface. However, I look forward to the trial, and that upgrade."

  What? Upgrade for what exactly?

  Distant wails of torment came at them and bounced, seemingly, off invicible walls, making several different agonized voices stay at their proximity for an unnatural timeframe.

  Dismas wept painful tears at their departure.

  "Are they... dead dead?" He looked to Orn for answers, but the minotaur just walked. Nothing seemed to bother it.

  "Don't think of the mountain," it finally said, still ignoring Dismas' latest question. "It is old and... unpredictable. Haha."

  What was that mountain, to make Orn pause like that?

  It felt like he closed his eyes at first, but then he recalled not having eyebrows. Dismas fell into absolute nothingness. A few seconds, but that was plenty for him. As his vision returned, his birdy legs were still dangling from the globed fist of the minotaur.

  He began to feel numb to the pain. Finally.

  Then it all spiraled. Not a staircase exactly. Not a slide either. But something wilder. Something where all kinds of arms tried to grab anything nearby. Orn flicked his fingers at any of them coming close enough, breaking their bones with high pitched cracks in the echoing tight passage.

  The black, fleshy ground spat them out to the level below. Not too soon, Dismas was sure as shit about that.

  This floor was odd. The ceiling was only about, he'd guess, four meters above the ground. Orn had to assume a stance that—

  Something, not far off, fell. It sounded like eggs, mixed with bones, all breaking.

  "What was that? Orn? What just happened? I can't fucking see very well from here."

  "Can't be sure. Now, shut your mouth. Provoking the beings of Hell is in no one's best interest."

  "You mean the demons?"

  "They are certainly here, watching. But you would be wiser not labeling anything down here, unless ubvious. Don't trust your eyes. Don't trust your ears. Don't trust the smells either." Orn gave Dismas a rare stare again. "Only trust all your senses in unison."

  He wondered, since when did Orn feel concerned for anyone's well being? Something was off. It was Hell, after all.