The river of fire crept on sluggishly as the dragoner clung onto the edge of the rock wall; skeleton guards passed above her, oblivious to her presence. Reis peered at the forge in the centre of the lava lake, suspended by three gigantic chains of steel; constantly drawing molten metal from the pools of radiant liquid beneath.

Beads of sweat began to collect on Reis' face and hands; it wasn't the heat, she had gotten used to that during her days of being a blacksmith. The dread of being discovered, disarmed and outnumbered caused her to shudder in fear, that she would be buried in the bowels of the netherworld forever, without hope for an afterlife.

For the rest of the world, she was already dead--as all in the netherworld are. Not one living creature, not one living person in sight; only demons and their undead servants.

The spirits of those long dead trudged on upon the road above, their translucent faces thin and drawn, nearly skeletal in their features; a shackle of cold black bound their feet, binding their souls to the demons leading them on. Their eyes gazed emptily, hungering for freedom and lasting peace in their lives; rolling aimlessly in their sockets.

They can see me. They can hear my every movement. I think I see one…looking at me; I can feel his desire to move closer, to hold my living hand, something he hasn't done for a while…

'Beowulf…?' Reis whispered to herself, spotting a spirit as familiar as familiar could be; this was no other than her dead fiancé. Bound in chains and led by a demon, his pride and honour was cruelly spiked down, waiting for a day when it could break free and unleash his wrath upon his enslavers; desperately struggling to move closer towards Reis, she could see the fire within his semi-transparent eyes, the desire to be with her once more…until a demon's claw grasped his hair gruffly, snatching him back into line.

Holding out a hand towards him, Reis looked on sadly as he was taken away; put into the fortress in front of her.

I'm so close…and yet I can't do anything. If I still had my weapons, I could've broken in there and set them all free…but I don't have it.

Lowering her hand and gaze, she could feel tears starting to roll down her cheeks; tears of sorrow, tears of separation; separation from a person so important she would die for him.

Lifting herself above the surface, Reis' nose struck something hard; looking dazedly, she discovered a skeleton; its hollowed skull staring without eyes into her face, its ivory coloured bones swathed in a blue leather cuirass.

Face to face, Reis took a frightened step backward; her foot a mere inch away from the edge of the cliff, a long fall down to the fiery lake beneath. Gnashing its teeth furiously, the skeleton advanced, its rusty short sword raised, ready to strike. Deftly sidestepping the slash, Reis wrested the sword out of the skeleton's hands; rusted though the weapon was, it was better than nothing.

Lowering its shoulder, the skeleton made a dash at Reis, easily dodged; grasping the skeleton's hand, the dragoner threw the undead soldier over her shoulder, catapulting it into the lava beneath. The molten rock hissed and boiled violently as the skeleton was consumed in the flames; wisps of smoke floated gently up to the ceiling, fading away as it seeped to the world above.

'You used to be just like me, a living creature, with feelings, a soul and a life. Do you still remember it? Or have any of it left?' Reis mused, watching the bubbling fires.

This place must be purged clean. Somehow, one way or another. The undead used to be living beings; it is right to restore their rightful place in the afterlife, not under demonic slavers nor the Lucavi.

The hot air drafts rising from the seething mass of glowing red beneath suspended Reis, who searched the solid walls for a sign of weakness. Age-worn as the walls were, every block of black stone fitted without a gap nor a single trace of faulting; it was smooth and solid. Much like the walls of Bethla Garrison.

If it's like this…then there's a weakness where the holes are, where the archers are supposed to stay. I'll try breaking in from one of those…

Catching a sudden burst of hot air, Reis was thrown violently upwards; a blast from the lava beneath had sent a spiralling column of molten rock dangerously close to her. Everything was clearly visible from above, although she didn't like how she got there.

I can see it…two just above the gates.

With a prayer upon her lips, Reis dived downwards, accelerating, speeding ever quicker; her wings were bent almost in line with her body, her arms were stretched outwards; a faint glow spread from her palms, like an ethereal shield conjured from the air. Bracing for impact, she bit down on her lip and—

Crash.

The impact had left a horrible numbness in her arms; the shield she conjured had protected her from most of the damage, although there was a deep gash along her right arm where a shard of masonry had broken off and slashed a wound there.

No time to worry about this scratch; I've managed to break into the forge, that's what matters. I've got to hide now; the guards have probably heard the noise I made breaking in here.

Brushing the debris off her armour, Reis looked around the room; there were spears and swords placed in racks, carelessly stacked against the wall and even a pair of scimitars suspended above the door. All were branded with the seal of the black angel, grotesquely smeared with silvery, faded blood.

She sniffed the blood-stained seal on the closest spear.

Human blood.

They've been sacrificing human souls…it must be for some demonic ritual. I can't stop now; I must act quickly before Beowulf faces the same fate as those whose blood is here.

Tap-tap-tap.

Footsteps. Not just one, either.

Flattening herself against the wall near the door, Reis silently stole a sword from the closest rack; the footsteps were coming closer. The rank smell of rotten flesh wafted into the room; she could see flies hanging about the doorway, a hand clutching the jamb—

'In the name of Glabados!' Reis screamed, impaling the zombie's chest with a thrust of the sword. A hard bone fist found its way to Reis' nose as a skeleton punched her; blood dribbled onto her lips as the blow connected. Striking back with the pommel stone in retaliation, Reis rushed out through the door; kicking aside the destroyed undead remains. She slumped down in a recess in the wall, nursing a bleeding nose.

That's faster than I thought. I guess I'm not going to be safe…

'The intruder is here somewhere—find and destroy her!'

Should I risk it…?

A shadow moved across the wall, horned and menacing; gigantic claws raised as though to strike. Reis slid further into the recess, into the dark crevice between the stone blocks; a claw reached in from outside it, she could see the grime and dried, matted blood on it—

No other choice!

Grasping the limb, Reis brought down her elbow; the demon howled in pain as its bones shattered with a sickening crack. Hurling the bulky creature to the ground, the dragoner slammed its head against the stone floor, ignoring the hail of blows it threw at her body. A sudden kick threw her against the wall; she heard a snapping noise as though of a stick splintering under the weight of a heavy stone; she felt each breath becoming short and painful, stabbing pains at her ribs; and after the stone-like fist pounded into her face, she knew no more.

---

'Speak up, human fool,' the gruff voice spoke, grasping Reis by her head, lifting it up, 'Why and how did you come here?'

What is he asking me…? I can't hear that well…

'Speak!'

Reis cried out as a blow connected with her chest; panting, she regained her composure. Chains tied her hands and feet down to the blood-spattered floor; chains made of bones.

'Tell me now, human,'

Another blow struck her harder yet, this time in her stomach; Reis retched, and felt a surge of fluid exit her mouth. Gasping for air, the dragoner looked up at her tormentor; a cackling, foul-mouthed archaic demon, spitting in her face.

'That's for shaking my hand, human; feel lucky that I don't feel like killing you just yet,'

'Give her a hundred lashes,' a cold voice rasped from a corner, 'For banishing me back into this hole. I! The great one, destined to rule the world, banished into the bowels of Ivalice. I will not have such treachery!'

Ajora…so he still exists…

Reis stared at Ajora in silence, hatred within her eyes while the demon in front of her tosses away the whip he held in his hand. Her expression of rage quickly turned to horror as she saw the grotesque hand pick up the steel-shod handle of a nine-headed whip, red-hot and gleaming.

'We shall see how much pain you can endure,' Ajora cackled, amused at the expression on Reis' face, 'Don't worry; you'll be one of my undead servants soon,'

The whip descended with undeniable force upon the dragoner's bare back; each time tearing skin and flesh, the red hot metal tips searing the wound afterwards. Blood began to flow from the numerous scars the nine-headed whip traced through the ivory skin, dripping onto the floor as the demon counted twenty. He stopped for a second, sneering in Reis' face; before wiping a finger across an open wound and licking the blood-smeared finger.

'Tastier than most other humans,' the demon spoke, licking his lips, 'You're going to spill more of your blood for me, human,'

Reis closed her eyes and prayed for protection as the whip descended again; the pain surged through her mind with each lash, torturous and excruciating.

'Stop!' Ajora said, almost lisping; he drew a knife from his belt; the demon stepped back, the dragoner's blood spattered all over his body, 'I'll take over from here,'

'You're not coming out of here alive, half-dragon fool,' Ajora snarled in Reis' face, grasping her cheeks with an iron grip.

A piercing scream echoed around the stone halls of the forge as Ajora drew his knife across Reis' face in a vicious slash; a deep cut stretched across her face from her left eye to her nose. Whimpering in agony, Reis struggled to see through the blood in her eyes, blinking madly to get the stinging liquid out.

'Take her away,' Ajora spat, sheathing his knife and kicking Reis in the ribs.