Gates
It was a small room with just a plain old medieval style bed right in the middle of it where the Prince of Hell lied down dreaming, he wasn't the only prince but he was probably in the seven hundred to eight hundredth with the title Prince of Hell. He was in his late teenage years with black hair, eyes and pale skin, it was typical for one of the princes, he remembered that he could have just died with his friends instead of live a lonely eternal life in a room with same thing to do and eat everyday but at the time he didn't think about dying; he thought about living so he sealed a deal with his father, the King of Hell.
Before he could've continued his thoughts the door interrupted them.
"Come in," he said.
A tall pale man with a white beard holding a scythe came into the room looking at him.
"Let's go Nico, the gates of death needs more guards since the dead are pouring in harder than daily," said the man.
Nico sat there and thought how he guarded the gate so much and never once entered them.
What does it feel like? For he never would know.