Interlude I

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In the deepest, darkest corners of Hell, it was said that an old man lived. No two demons could ever give the same description of that man, or even tell what he really was, but they'd all heard of him.

Some said he had been an old wizard once, famous on Earth, one who had managed to conquer death. An immortal, damned to live forever in Hell in retribution for the hubris of trying to become a god.

Others said he was even older than that, an actual god from ancient times who had rebelled against the new deity in power. The ruler of the underworld, cast from his throne to live in its shadow for eternity.

A few believed that he was Lucifer himself, condemned to live in human flesh as punishment for disobeying his Father's commands.

Martin hadn't cared one bit about who the old man had been or who he currently was. The only thing he cared about was that the old man was the only one who could get him what he needed.

It took centuries for Martin to reach the place where it was said the old man lived. There are no maps in Hell and when he did find the place, he couldn't even be sure he had arrived.

The hole in the rock didn't seem like much, barely large enough to fit a grown man; still, Martin squeezed his way through, shoulders scraping against sharp walls, miles and miles deep underground.

The hole seemed to have no end. At some points, he couldn't even tell which way was up and which was down, so long was the climb. When his feet finally hit the bottom, Martin had to feel his way around, fingers tracing the contours of the rock wall in the most complete and thick darkness.

His back pressed against one of the walls, Martin felt his way around, looking for the opening he was sure would be there. The passage, however, eluded his fingertips at every turn. Rock, rock, rock and more rock. Top to bottom, continuous rock without even a crack.

A dead end.

"No!" he yelled in anger, punching the surrounding rock wall. He had been tricked by the demons, sent in a fool's errand for their entertainment, just like all the others had warned him. "NO!"

"Ow!" the rock said, deep grinding voice that echoed all through the small space. "That hurts, you know."

Martin thought it was just another trick. Even in Hell, rocks don't speak.

He looked closer, even though his eyes had really no chance of working in that absolute darkness. His fingers traced the wall.

A nose.

And teeth.

So long had the old man spent in that rocky place that he had become the rock itself, Martin realized.

"I need something from you," Martin said with no preambles, no sugar coating, no patience. He had waited too long for this.

"My help comes at a very expensive cost," the old man warned. "Are you willing to pay?"

"I am. Anything."

"Very well," the old man said, even as a bright light, red as blood, filled the small space.

The demons arrived to take him shortly after that. It was a wonder they had taken so long to find him.

As they strapped him to the rack of Alastair's new apprentice, Martin knew that this wasn't really his price to pay. This was just another day in Hell.

The old man's price would come later.

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…..NEXT-