"Princess, the Ship has arrived. We'll be departing for Lady Belphegor's Palace within the hour."
She said nothing; she simply waved a hand to dismiss the imp butler that had delivered the message, not looking up from where she sat in the marble bathing pool. Her long, strawberry-blonde hair hung over her brow, casting a shadow over her face that hid her eyes from the world but leaving the deep frown on her black lips visible to the world. She remained like this as the other maids, each an exceptionally-beautiful and loyal members of their species, tended to her; some stood by with large vases of warm bathwater, while others scrubbed her down with the finest of soaps and washcloths, cleaning her porcelain-white skin and blonde fleece with flawless expertise and greatest of care.
She barely reacted as the maids standing by poured the warm water over her head, rinsing off the suds and soap from her body, leaving it as flawless as freshly-fallen snow. Without a word she stood up and stepped out of the pool, her hooves making gentle clacks on the polished floor. The servants were quick to step in, ready and waiting with warmed, fluffy towels; with almost robot-like unison, they dried her down from head to hooves, not missing a spot. One stood upon a tall stool behind the sheep-like demon, tying her hair back and dolling it up into a far more presentable state.
Under different circumstances and to anyone else, this would be a bath of paradise; the kind that only the wealthiest and most luxurious of earth would ever experience, and the rest to only imagine.
But for her, it was the start of the worst day of her immortal life. A day she was forced to endure once every year for as long as she could remember.
The princess said nothing as she was guided by her family's servants to her personal walk-in wardrobe, currently wrapped in a pale-red bathrobe of the fluffiest wool you could find in all the Seven Rings of Hell. Said walk-in wardrobe was larger than most commoner houses, with multiple stories worth of hangar racks, mirror, dressers, mannequins, and every else one could think of in regard to clothing; it was like having her own personal JC Penny's next to her own bed-room, which in itself was like having an entire mansion in one, giant, personalized room with a grand royal bed bigger than most backyard pools.
Perhaps a bit too extravagant for most…okay, it was way too extravagant for anyone, regardless of status or wealth, but this was the life of Charlotte Morningstar, daughter of none other than Lucifer Morningstar, aka the Devil himself and ruler of Hell.
And in his eyes, literally nothing was too good for his 'precious little apple-pie'.
Under normal circumstances, Charlotte, or Charlie as she preferred to be called, wouldn't be partaking in these frankly-boastful preparations every morning. Hell, she usually didn't stay in the Palace of Pandæmonium, despite being born there. She was perfectly content to wake from her bed back in her hotel, take a normal shower, and put on her classic suit for the day ahead; she may have been the princess of hell itself, but that was no reason to overly indulge in the wealth and power like her dad did. If anything, she found it embarrassing.
But today was a…well, 'special' was too good a word. But the events of today demanded a change in schedule. And no embarrassment was to be found in her heart today.
Only sorrow.
For today was the final day of the Holy Week: the day that Heaven and the Lord's children celebrated the triumph of Jesus Christ over sin following his sacrifice on the cross. The time of year that the light of God was at its peak, and when she, her family, and all the other nobility of Hell would be at their weakest. Thus, here they were, preparing for their yearly departure to the Ring of Sloth, the lowest circle of Hell; where they would wait out their time of weakness in Belphegor's Palace, as far away from Heaven as possible. To protect themselves from what was known as Good Friday to Heaven and those of the Christian Faith.
Or, as it was known in Hell: The Purging of the Damned, or simply as the Yearly Extermination.
Charlie continued to remain silent as she stood before the full-length mirror, watching her pain-filled eyes stare back at her in her reflection, as the maids dressed her in an dress that would make the Disney Princess line-up weep with envy; a beautiful open-neck ballgown of white and red that sparkled like gemstones, embroidered with her family crest on the front of the full skirt, complete with a deep-pink trailing cape that glimmered in the light. It was rather contrasted by her tiara, though: an outright wicked-looking thing forged from black metal, looking more akin to a royal mockery of the biblical Crown of Thorns.
It was truly a beautiful dress. Nothing less for the princess of the entire Realm of Damnation itself.
But to Charlie, it was just another painful reminder of the truth: that she would be whisked to the safety of the depths for a week of comfort and luxury, while her people were slaughtered like animals.
Hell had an overpopulation problem. Well, at least the Ring of Pride, the first ring, did: it was the ring where all the Sinners of the world, those who did not fear the lord and repent of their sins, were sent to rot for eternity for their crimes in life. At one time in history, the flow of souls between heaven and hell were evenly matched, the world more balanced between Good and Evil. However, in the modern times of technology and disbelief, the scales had tipped heavily in favor of evil, with more and more people falling into hell every day. And since Sinners were eternal and couldn't die by normal means, the numbers wouldn't be getting any lower by its own power anytime soon.
It was getting to the point where the sheer number of evil souls was threatening to overthrow the balance of morality.
So, to address this issue, the Archangels made a decree that would forever change the relationship of the After-Realms: once a year, on Good Friday of the Easter Week, the armies of heaven, made of angels known in Hell simply as 'Exterminators', would descend into the Pride Ring and embark on a day long crusade to hunt down and slaughter as many Sinners as possible. Immortal to all demonic weapons and wielding holy weaponry that could permanently erase a soul from existence, it was honestly less of a crusade and more a vicious, one-sided blood sport on the angel's part.
Every year, millions of souls were extinguished by their blades and spears; no matter Hell's advancements or might, even the most powerful of Hellborns, such as Lucifer, the Ars Goetia, and the Seven Lords of Sin were no match for the living embodiments of God's wrath, leaving the ring a sea of blood and gore every single time.
So, the Hellborn did the only thing they could: retreat to the lower rings, where the Angels did not tread. However, the Sinners could not escape the same way: by law of Lucifer himself, all Sinners were confined to the Pride Ring, his ring, where they were trapped and unable to do anything to defend themselves.
All they could do was run, hide, and hope that they would survive to see another year.
And it was heart-breaking.
A single tear ran down her face as she approached the palace's rooftop airstrip, where the bridge to the Royal Airship awaited her; already, the non-sinner servants of the palace, Imps, Hellhounds, Baphomets, and other Hellborns had gathered here in the hundreds, scrambling over each other like panicked chickens to get on board, filling the smaller ramps to the lower decks like a river flowing upwards. She found no such struggle, though: she got the grand royal ramp all to herself, guarded on each side by lines of Minotaurs, massive hellborns native to the Wrath Ring, adorned in the crimson hell-armor of the Royal Guard. They extended their demonic halberds over the large, flawless red carpet leading to the ramp, forming a royal shield over her and she approached the ramp, which would take her up to the royal suite on the upper deck, where her parents were waiting for her.
She could already picture her father lounging back in his big, cushioned 'recline-a-throne', as he called it, sipping on a glass of Forbidden Fruit Champagne, completely unconcerned for the lives of his own subjects. His ever-present, shark-tooth grin on display for all to see, while countless others screamed for mercy they would never receive.
She couldn't take it anymore.
She was sick of it. Sick of watching Hell's people, her people, being butchered like animals every single year. Sick of hiding away in the depths of the rings, doing nothing to protect her home and those that lived in it. Hell, she hadn't even been able to say goodbye to Vaggie and the others before she was dragged away, leaving them to fend for themselves; yes, she had ensured that the Hotel would remain untouched during the Extermination with countless spells of protection, but that didn't stop her from worrying. Worrying that she would wait all day, only to return to find graves standing where her friends once stood.
Things had to change. They just had to.
A distant clap of what sounded like thunder echoed across the city. She paused mid-step, face twisting in confusion at the sound; there were only scattered clouds out today, the Sky Pentagram visible for all to see. Where-?
A twinkle of purple light caught her eye, turning her attention to the western mountain range, and what she saw made her eyes widen and her heart bloom with a sudden warmth.
A Shooting Star.
An Honest-to-God Shooting Star. Here, in Hell, of all places.
She had never seen one before, for obvious reasons: there weren't many locations in the Seven Rings that one could see the Great Beyond, and those few places weren't exactly accessible to even the higher-ranking demons. Unless you were a member of the Ares Goetia, the chances of ever getting to see the skies of the Living Realm were pretty much impossible.
But here it was: a single star, streaking across the western horizon, blazing with a brilliant, almost magical purple light.
It was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen in all her centuries of life.
"Please keep moving, your majesty." One of the Minotaurs suddenly told her, snapping her out of her stupor of wonder and pulling her back to reality. None of the guards even noticed the star, or they did but didn't show any sign they cared for it.
She fought the urge to scoff at their statue-like coldness as she obliged to their request, though she kept her eye on the rare wonder as she walked, watching as the star soared across the sky, all the way until it eventually disappeared behind the southwest mountains...
…she remembered an old story of the human world she had seen a few times, in movies and other such media: of wishes made upon falling stars by the lonely, the hopeful, and the desperate. Of the stars granting the wishes in wonderous, magical ways.
Ways that defied all odds and overcame all evils.
The knew the idea was silly; a fairytale for children, and she pushed it away from her mind as she continued on…but, as if enchanted by a spell, she found herself glancing back at where the star had fallen. Even as she reached the top of the ramp and took her first steps onto the dock, she couldn't help but look back to where a small glimmer of child-like hope had fallen from the heavens. A small flicker of…something lit up in her heavy heart, causing its weight to lift just a touch.
She supposed, if nothing else, it wouldn't hurt to indulge these stories of old. Especially given how rare Shooting Stars were down here.
"Starlight…starbright…first star I see tonight…" She whispered under her breath, even as the ship rocked forward as it began its journey to the Seventh Ring. She paused, a brief moment of doubt crossing her mind, which she ultimately pushed aside as she continued to speak the legendary phrase. "…I wish I may…I wish I might…have this wish I wish tonight."
She then paused, unsure of what exactly to wish for; she knew what she wanted, but she wasn't sure how to say it in a wish.
But in the end, she found the words, simple and plain.
And she spoke them aloud, tears of pleading hope running down her cheeks.
"I wish for a way to save my home. To stop the murder of my people. To bring peace to the Rings."
It was, perhaps, the most foolish thing anyone could've ever wished for in the entire history of creation. One could take one look out over Pentagram City, the City of Sin itself, and tell her that such a wish was never going to come true. It was, after all, the city of Hell. Where the damned of the living world would spend all of eternity paying for the evil they had indulged in during their short, miserable lives. Where the darkness in their hearts was only encouraged by the powers that held domain over the land, with no end to the evil in sight. Where the only fate that awaited anyone was eternal damnation or being erased.
What she sought was impossible.
But as the stories go, the impossible is exactly what a wish made upon the right kind of star could make possible.
And on a star like this peculiar one, nothing was impossible.