Chapter VII: Heresy

Previously: He opened the bag and took a spearhead from the base. The way the light glimpsed off of it practically screamed unnatural. He knew what this was. The spear of destiny had found its way into his hands and right when he needed a trump card the most. A plan already worked into his mind and it brought an awful grin to his face.

The door kicked open and the demon guard gruffly motioned for the man to follow. Slade opened his hands in a motion that signaled he was going to comply. He had already hidden the blade in one of his sleeves. He left the room feeling confident that even in Hell, he still had the power to conquer.

There was an image that burned itself into her memory. One that shone through all the things she had to do when acting out the role. A fleeting memory that just wouldn't be thrown away like so many others.

Maybe the reason that it wouldn't behave like her other memories was that it was him. Quite possibly the only person who could conjure up such feelings of nostalgia and times past. A flash of green and all she could think about was her life before. He barreled past her and flew into the corridor she just emerged from and for whatever naive reason, she ran after him.

Maybe it was because his only intent was to escape or maybe she wasn't fast enough, but she couldn't catch up to him before the green eagle flew above street level and into the immeasurable sky. Gone before she could even come to grips with what he did or why he did it.

So many uncertainties rested in her head now, a multitude more than the stark few that occupied her mind in the many years before. If Beastboy risked going down into the afterlife to find her, what problems were they having in the world that she could help with? Or was it that, God forbid, Beastboy had died and found the way to escape judgment? So many possibilities rushed through her mind. Possibilities that she wouldn't have considered for any times before this.

She never even looked back when she opened the portal. She had accepted the results of her actions long before she committed them, the entirely selfless sacrifice which had no choice but to happen. She said her goodbyes, settled her accounts. Severed every tie, or so she thought.

When she arrived, not a single thought was given to her old life. She knew that it was a one-way trip, without any hope of returning, excluding some brilliantly thought out plan involving sacrificial virgins or demonic mating ceremony. She certainly didn't want to employ any of those powers to do anything.

Everything after that was incredibly time consuming. She was thrust into a political position almost instantly and was whisked away, leaving her old life and responsibilities behind. All but forgotten, until now.

To be reminded of the life that was responsible for almost endangering an entire planet was unpleasant in the least. Meaningful as it was that Beastboy followed her into the pit, she couldn't help but loathe him.

How dare he disobey her final instructions? What right did he have to deign to come after her? She wont to hell with the specific intent never to return. The total lack of his own regard infuriated her to no end. Stupid idiot! How the Hell did he expect to get through Hell without any help?

That's right. He wouldn't be able to.

Immediately, she flew to the cells where he most certainly would have been held. The prison was manned by a skeleton crew. It didn't need much more, Most of the souls were compliant and devoid of free will, allowing for most demons to be able to sit back and enjoy the entertainment the violence provided.

The first guard she encountered led her to the cell that the 'Green one' was in. There was nothing to indicate that he had been in it for more than a day, the only lingering emotions left in the limestone a mixture of fear and confusion.

The scent that remained was always familiar. She had grown accustomed to it from the many years of living in the same building for years, mainly against her will. There was only so long that she could walk by his messy room before getting used to the smell that exuded from it.

The next place she was led to was where the equipment was stored. Any items Beastboy brought was here, taken away from him after incarceration.

There were objects scattered everywhere. A pile of broken swords just dropped into a far corner, shattered and dinged from millennia of repeated and unending use. Hangers held bits of tattered cloth above the cold floor, attacked by the demonic versions of moths.

There was a slight twinge at the back of her neck, a sour taste in her mouth that was very distinctive. The feeling was purely unique, a force that had no like. She knew exactly what it was. And where it was.

Her eyes turned to her right and one thing didn't belong. A green and purple backpack that was carelessly thrown on top of a pile of miscellaneous junk and shredded chainmail links. She gingerly walked over to it and brought it up to her nose, taking a long and slow intake of air.

Home. Water. Pine needles. Natural, unlike the deodorant people so indelicately smothered themselves with. Everything good of Earth with the slight singeing that came with a presence in the abyssal realm.

She took the zipper and pulled back gently, making sure to avoid tearing any of the fabric with the claws that were incorporated into her demonic biology. The contents were very curious. From her knowledge of the honorary Titans, she instantly recognized the horn, signature of the Herald.

The bag was the most basic of carrying designs and everything was visible. The horn was the main object of value, but there was something that gravity had pulled to the deepest corner of the bag.

With trembling fingers , she reached out to take it. The force that emitted from it was repellant but she had gotten used to it years back. Her hand trembled not from its immense power, but from the fact that it had come back into her possession.

She took it in her hand and brought it up to shoulder level, eyes fixed on it every inch of the way. The archaic amulet hadn't changed a bit in the years since she used it in aiding her teammate's problem. Every crack from aging was where it was supposed to be. Every dent from centuries of use and abuse remained. It was at this moment that she realized that her heart was almost beating out of her chest.

Such an anomaly had never happened before. It was like there was a hole in her chest, something that made her instinctively hunch over. The feelings were completely foreign to her.

As far as she was aware, there was nothing wrong with her body, but there must have been. The shock of a bird hitting her on the way out must have jarred her more than she realized.

'Wrong.'

That voice again. She would call it a conscious if she didn't know for a fact that she never had one. She had a theory about what it was and she was going to find it.

She took the string of the medallion and put it around her neck. The horn was attached to a lanyard laying against a sideboard and slung around her back, underneath the cloak that was doing nothing to ward the cold away from her ankles.

With all haste, she went back to her chambers. There was something she had to sort out. A voice she had to tie a face to, a feeling she had to nail down, and a future she had to determine.

Flapping wings and loud screeches could be heard from afar. The sentries of Heresy were not merciful when it came to intruders and Beastboy meant to make sure to never see it firsthand.

The sixth circle was massive beyond belief. A mixture of open sky and cluttered ground made it a veritable paradise for those that roam above the ground. For those without the benefit of wings, a considerably worse fate awaited them.

Crumbling tombs inhabited the large expanse. Burning tombs screeching with the screams of all the damned. Molten iron was poured from pots down onto the unfortunate, no regard to what they did or how feeble their attempts to shield themselves were. Here was the place where the unbelievers were tortured.

Unbelievers was a very vague term. The very basic definition was to not believe in something, and for the concept of Hell, the belief should have been singular. The only problem was with the sheer number of religions in the universe.

Belief systems, cults, sects, and doctrines numbered in the millions across every system. There were more religions than there were planets in the sky. For some, the thought of a circle dedicated to the punishment of non-believers meant that it was for everyone but them.

The reality was a great deal simpler. There wasn't one right religion to belong to. There wasn't any number of deities that guaranteed salvation from damnation. Every being got judged equally. The tombs weren't meant for those who believed in the proper afterlife. They were meant for those who rebelled against it.

The belief system of people wasn't something to be judged about. They were lifestyle choices that either suited or was chosen for whoever was on the pedestal. What could cause damnation was those who openly opposed the omnipotent. Blasphemy, heresy, all things that condemn a soul to a realm inhabited by the worst creations of ornis in all of existence.

The overseers of the hellish place were three Furies, mythological and ruthless. What little was written in Greek or Roman histories did no justice to them. From the sound of them, the shrieks were heart wrenching and organ grinding. The sight of them was horrifying.

Daughters stained with blood. Medusa hair. Skin of forest green, scaled and laced with the barbs of the sharpest feathers. The face of a forlorn beauty, but the beak of a bird, dripping with the life-water of those it watched over. Three creatures with one purpose. Kill.

From his vast knowledge of the creatures of the world, Beastboy noticed a number of things wrong with them. He could see them soaring through the sky with relative ease, an impossibility considering the ratio of wingspan to body weight. Even if every bone was hollow, the Furies wouldn't be able to glide for more than a few seconds.

The feathers were all spaced out as well. So far apart that air would just fall between the cracks. There was no sign of down or preening, keying to the theory that the feathers were only for violence. The furies had to be demons, utilizing the home field advantage to move through the skies, maiming as they pleased.

In the end, it didn't matter whether or not they had a logical existence. What mattered was that they couldn't be defeated.

If the changeling went up against even one of them, he would get torn to shreds. If he challenged all three of them, he doubted that he could have more than a ten second survival length. The best he could do was hope to avoid detection and live long enough to get Raven out.

He paused beside a granite slab, concealing the torture chamber of some unnamed blasphemer pleading for release. After a short time, the begging turned into praying, a Gregorian chant that resonated through the stone.

The gravelly tone of the man's burning larynx reminded Beastboy of his own experienced with the religiously extreme. A deal he made with them to secure his... moderately safe travel to the underworld. The cult that tried to double cross him after he made an arrangement with them. A deal with the devil. The mortal kind.

It was a rough time for Beastboy on Earth. He had been scrounging in the lowest depths of the dimensions for power. He had stolen from the most secure location on the planet for might. What he lacked was the final piece to make it all fit into place. An entrance.

All the research he had done about Hell and demonic encounters showed no indication as to portals in and out. All the legends pointed to crossing fictional bodies of water or getting there the old fashioned way. Beastboy had no intention of dying to get past the mortal realm.

There were two ways he knew would work for certain. One was a tried and tested method, one that Raven used herself a few years ago in an effort to stop Brother Blood. That went to the gates of Hell for certain. The only thing that it needed to work was Raven herself, the person he wanted to go into the depths in the first place.

The second was a myth, the only one that had even a slight chance of existing. A tomb that may have had more than just a funereal purpose to it. He already had the item that could open it. He just didn't have the resources to get to it.

There was no way that he could go to the superheroes for help. They would just persecute him for trying to reopen the doors they worked so hard to close. He couldn't go to any proper channels of inquiry, they didn't have the vision or conviction to meet his requests in a reasonable time frame.

He had to go with the worst. An organization that had the resources and the desire to fulfill the same goals that he did.

The cult of Blood had been a sinister organization for centuries, spearheaded by a family of ruthless, patricidal maniacs. The Brother Blood they had regular encounters with had separated from the sect, going his own way with his own malicious agendas. Even though their leader departed from the order and was now dead, the cult was still very much alive.

There had been whisperings that they wanted to get their leader back from damnation. Beastboy figured that if they wanted to do that, they must have wanted a way into Hell. And since they had been a devil-worshipping cult for centuries without any notion of world domination, it was safe to assume they hadn't been successful at any time in the past.

It started with a letter. A letter dropped at a garbage bin down at 5th and Johnson. It continued with correspondence. Wads of cash in dirty paper bags coupled with instructions left at specified locations. Making sure that the cult could deal with menial tasks was essential for the changeling, as it ensured both compliance and the ability of the members.

He balanced urgency and subtlety, one of the benefits of being raised by a group of superheroes specializing in dealing with large organizations. Thankfully, his temporary assistants tugged at the line he threw them. A godsend from a group of demonic servants.

It got to the time when he had to make the deal face to face. Find the tomb and have a chance to restore their leadership to former glory.

He entered a courthouse during lunch hour, a curious time and place to arrange a meeting with anyone trying to hide from the law. Since he would be noticed if he walked through the front door and even more suspicious if he wore any kind of face covering. He was forced to carry a bag of concealing clothes during the night and enter from an entrance on the roof just to leave no trace of his presence.

The third floor of the building had no courts scheduled, a key indicator that these people he was dealing with had power with the highest authorities. He walked to the main door of courtroom 3-B clad in completely black attire and opened it. The sight was startling but not entirely unexpected.

Every seat had been rearranged. The folding chairs that occupied the gallery were removed and all the wiring to any surveillance devices forcefully ripped out. Two red robed sentries greeted him at the door, wands ready to scan for anything metallic. The rest of the occupants were all seated and staring right at him. There were twelve in the jury stand, another twelve where the press sat, and one in the judge's seat.

Beastboy walked up to the bar and stopped, staring right back at the man who was clearly in charge.

The robed figure rose up and addressed the one who had hired them for the past two weeks. "Brother Green. You have a proposition for us?"

Beastboy stared at the leader. He wanted to keep talking at a minimum, lest they get his identity through the sound of his voice. A simple nod sufficed to appease the leader.

The man's hands rose, pointing to all the members of the cult in the room. "We all desire to see the line of Blood restored." The statement caused a rousing round of approving grunts from all the robes around them. He moved his arms so that they were both pointing at him. "You claim to have a way to do this?"

The changeling lifted a gloved hand with a piece of paper between his fingers. One of the sentries took the paper and walked to the stand, presenting it to the hooded leader.

The leader opened it and read the contents. His posture changed ever so slightly. The hood shifted to both sides and nodded at each. The deal was done. He had officially made an arrangement with the cult of Blood to enter Hell and retrieve one of the condemned.

The cult had one person in mind. Beastboy had another. He was more than willing to let them go about their own business, but they tried to double cross him. They should have known better.

With renewed vigor, he continued through the circle of Heresy. He had to make all haste to the final circle, to meet and come back with his friend. He still didn't have a clue on how to go back with her, but he would deal with it when he got there.

One step at a time, Beastboy. One step at a time.

The moments spent rushing to her abode flew by, probably because she hovered the entire way.

She never had to do this in Hell before. Well, there was no need to. She accepted her demonic heritage the moment she came into the nine worlds and that was everything she needed. There was nothing to scare her. Nothing to make her feel insignificant or insecure. Nothing to destabilize her emotions in the slightest.

There was no reason to enter the depths of her mindscape. No reason to control her emotions because they were all in check. Ever since Fury took over, her life sailed smoothly.

Until now. A long forgotten feeling would force her to go deep into Nevermore.

She placed a mat down in the center of the room she had been occupying for the last two years. As long as it had been since she made this kind of journey, she vividly remembered how taxing it was. She could do this on the stone floor but she wanted to keep circulation in her extremities for the duration.

She adopted a lotus position in the middle, pulling her bare feet into a comfortable position against her thighs. Her muscles creaked slightly at the unnatural placement, joints cracking quietly.

The firmness of the thickly knotted rug slowly left indents on her exposed knees and ankles as she slowly rose above the surface. An unnatural wind filled the room, making her cloak sway along with it. The energy behind her four eyes shone through the thin eyelids, emitting a violet light that lit up the room more than any candle or lamp.

Her aura grew more intense and was focused on the chakra in the center of her forehead. Her hair now got caught up in the breeze, long strands turning every which way. When the stored energy reached critical mass, she opened her eyes, releasing it all on a small scale.

When the images she saw were identified in her mind, it was clear that she wasn't where she started. If she was in here mindscape, there were many similarities to Hell. The sky had changed from an endless black expanse to the same hazy red that occupied the skies of the nine worlds. There weren't any fauna or flora in sight, the ground was too barren to support even the most hardy of life forms.

The stone she stood on was the size of a continent, stretching out for leagues in every direction. Except for one. There was a sudden drop about fifty meters in front of her. A cliff that was hanging over a large valley, as much a tundra as the land above it.

The valley wasn't completely featureless. What looked to be several large buildings rested in the center, set in a circle with all the entrances facing towards the middle. All different styles of architecture were projected from every structure. The long exposure to Hell must have had a more significant effect on her psyche than she thought.

'Over here.'

A cool breeze whistled past the various buildings. She was half expecting to see a tumbleweed roll across the ground in front of her, but there wasn't anything in sight.

She saw all the representations that her emotions could conjure as typical living sections. A movie theater, dojo, gymnasium, gazebo, and a restaurant all faced towards her. Every doorway probably led into a larger separate dimension where the other emotions spent the majority of their time.

She walked to and stood before the biggest and oldest of the buildings, looking at obelisks that towered high over the demoness.

'Inside.'

When she entered, the scenery changed drastically. Outside, the building looked old, dusty, and almost exhausted. Inside, the space grew exponentially, giving way to an atrium overlooked by a dozen floors littered with bookshelves. There wasn't a light source in sight, but there was a natural luminescence to the massive library. There weren't any speakers or instruments, but the air carried the faint musings of a sad violin, calling for something it lost long ago.

This was the realm of Knowledge and it was clear that her mindscape had changed. The large network of doorways and land between the emotions of her mind has devolved into building of each ones design. Since the demoness no longer spent her days roaming a city and fighting crime, her way of thinking also shrank.

'Up.'

As much as she would have liked to explore how much her psyche had change in three years, she had a voice to find the source of.

She saw a staircase and calmly walked towards it. The steps were shallow and long, winding in a circular pattern to the next level up. She didn't count exactly, but there were easily a hundred stairs between floors. Time wasn't of the essence though, so she took her time and walked up each step until she couldn't go any higher.

When she walked three levels up, she heard hushed whispers from afar. She looked around and saw two beings talking to each other, one clad in yellow and the other in blue.

The second her eyes connected with theirs, they silenced and stared back. A moment passed between the three. The figure in blue jerked it's head upwards, signaling that her objective was still higher.

The demoness continued walking up, every step taken reverberating through her body. The marble incline had changed to a rich mahogany, the smell of faded varnish and treated wood filling her with a sense of nostalgia. The curvature of the stairs also grew more narrow and the floors above shrank in width. She was entering the spire she saw before.

The wood got older as she climbed higher, signs of age getting clearer with every step. The floors creaked now. The sound of wood groaning intensifying as she put every foot down. The ceiling that was far above her head was now just a few feet away, the stairs leading past it into the highest reaches of the tower.

The second her head rose above the floor, she slowed down, surveying the area before continuing. There was a whole living section up here. A bed, table, chair, and wardrobe occupied the small room, almost entirely devoid of life. The bed was made, chair tucked in, wardrobe closed, and table organized with paper and quill seemingly untouched.

She almost assumed that the room was uninhabited when her eyes were drawn to a window seat that shifted with the smallest of movements. A figure was there, cloaked in white and hooded just like the two down below. She took careful and deliberate steps, walking up the last steps and towards the crystal window.

She stood in front of the figure with her arms crossed and feet apart. "You called."

It turned to look at her, face hidden by the shadow of the drawn hood. The mouth that was barely visible gave the Mona Lisa smile, almost amused by her antics.

Her four eyes narrowed. "I came all the way down here. I deserve an answer."

The figure didn't move for a moment, studying the situation with a calm indifference. Then, with a careful motion, moved its hands up and pushed the hood down to shoulder level.

Even though the face was recognizable, she still gasped. With all of the emotions in her head wearing the same face, it was obvious what the figure would look like. What was so shocking was the certainty within it. The comfort. It was Raven herself.

An awful realization came to the demoness. Memories that had long since been forgotten made themselves known in the most uncomfortable way. "It was you. You were the one speaking in my head..."

"MY head." Raven interrupted. "I've been looking in from time to time. I spoke when I needed to."

Fury growled. The appearance of the original created a threat to her way of living. "You called me a liar."

"Because you are. Don't forget, I know you. You're just a part of myself that I let control for a while."

Fangs grated against each other. "I took control for myself!"

"I'm not your enemy here."

"Then who is?"

Raven folded her hands behind her head. "Not everything has to be about good guys and bad guys. There are problems and yours is Beastboy."

Fury turned her head and stared at the table. "I don't need to concern myself with that idiot."

"He isn't an idiot and we need to deal with it, if only for the sake of our history."

Her head returned to look at her host and snarled. "The thought of him makes us weak. I will kill him the second I lay eyes on him!"

"What good will that do? He went through the trouble to go to Hell. Would you kill a mortal already in the afterlife?"

Fury grumbled but her demeanor didn't change. "What would you have me do?"

"Find out what he's doing here, why he came, and where he's going. He wouldn't be here unless it was for a very good reason, so find out what it is."

The demoness seethe through her fangs. "Give me one reason why I should listen to you."

"This is my head and my body. If you don't listen to me, I won't hesitate to reclaim what is mine."

Fury was quaking, her hands clenched into an ever-tightening fist. She had a glaring competition with her progenitor, each trying to make the other back down.

"We both know what happened. What I know is how to deal with it."

Now it was Fury that was silent. For the longest time, she had controlled her host's body. She had eaten, slept in, and fought with the body for so long that she forgot that it wasn't hers. She had ruled in the Hells for three years, acting with no bravery, wisdom, happiness or fear. She had thought, spoke, and moved with only fury. She didn't know any better and she didn't care to question it. She only lived.

"You've made yourself quite the leader. Princess of Scath and ruler of no less than four world of the afterlife!" Raven gave a genuine smile. "I wouldn't be able to do better myself."

Fury moved forwards an inch. "I don't need your approval." She scowled. "I need your advice. You will tell me my next move."

Raven sat back down on the window seat and stared out the window. "Talk to Asmodea. She saw Beastboy first and might know where he's going."

The demoness blinked each of her four eyes. She would let this pass for now. She would allow someone else to give her orders. She would follow the fool who thought to go after her. And when the time came she would deal with him.

"Just remember, my naive emotion." Raven declared. "I'll be watching every move from now on."

The one who singlehandedly took control of half of the Hells left the safety of her mind and set forwards. Her conviction had never been fiercer and her ability was completely infallible. The hunt was on.

To Be Continued.