Through Hell and Back For You

by TheRedFaerie

Misty Day is trapped in Hell and has given up... that is, until she gets a visitor who reveals more than they wish they did. This is the story, or my version at least, of Misty Day's journey from Hell and back to her tribe, and all the heartache and surprises that come with it. *Misty Day character study-ish* *Foxxay shipping*

1. Chapter 1

To Hell and Back For You- Part 1

(As a disclaimer, I own jack shit. As another disclaimer, I haven't written anything in a while. So if it sucks, I'm sorry. Just tell me to stop. But if you like it and want more, tell me. I've got a Tinkerbell complex with this kinda stuff.)

The soul has an endless supply of tears and screams, for the soul knows no dehydration, has no physical voice to falter. Yes, there is still exhaustion and pain, and that is to Hell's advantage. There are no walls of flame, as we are led to believe. No, the fire lies within the soul, in the throat as an endless stream of screams pour forth, ripping through its host. And oh how Misty Day's soul was aflame. Every slice of the scalpel, the fire sparked anew, stronger.

And no one was coming to her rescue.

She had briefly fooled herself into thinking her Miss Cordelia was calling to her, would come and save her. But that was only a trick of her surroundings, a sliver of hope that tore a bigger hole within her when it turned up false. After all, it was Hell. And dying twice had not prepared her; with those deaths, Hell had not had the chance to claim her. But she had done this to herself, went in willingly, all in the name of possibly being the Supreme. Misty had never even wanted to be the Supreme. True, it had thrilled her every time she passed one of the tests; who wouldn't feel joy over such accomplishments?

But for Misty it was all about fitting in for a change, finding her tribe. With every new power that surfaced within her came a greater sense of belonging; her hopes were lifted higher and higher and higher...

"Freak!"

And then it all came crashing down, every time she was forced to cut open the poor frog before her. She wasn't strong enough to resist; she wasn't strong enough to pull herself away from her isolated Hell. And why would she ever think she could? She had only found the courage to leave her little corner in the swamp once before, and that had been prompted by fear more than her own strength. And now she was alone again, alone with her fears and years of religiously inflicted self-loathing.

Misty Day was alone and crying, as she had been for most of her life. And no one was coming to save her-

"Well, well, well. Now how is my favorite little swamp with princess of resurgence enjoying my hospitality?"