Caged by Damnation (Caged #2)(84)

A slab of wood slid outward, creating a miniature table, while the cabinet opened to reveal various vials and objects. Death pulled a few of the items from the cabinet, placed them on the table, and poured them into a flask.

"My tears, saliva, blood, and lastly..." He held up the remaining container; a glowing orb. He smashed it and caught the light in his palm."An extremely powerful, lethal soul."

In his palm, the soul appeared a morning yellow, but when he mixed it with the other ingredients, the potion turned a hazardous black. He looked at me, daring me to turn back. "Are you sure?"

Swallowing heavily, I watched as his eyes softened. It was obvious that he didn't want me to do this, as he grasped a small marble box that I hadn't noticed before. I remained steadfast in my convictions, even as he revealed its contents; a still-beating heart. I couldn't help but gag.

"What is that?" I abhorred what I was about to do, but weighing it against the lives of those who were counting on me... I needed to.

"It's the heart of the very first Hellhound; your ancestor. She was the only one gifted with the ability to restore life. As the original, she was the true alpha of my Hellhounds, but as time wore on, she grew sick of this world. She begged for her death and I granted her wish."

"Why?"

"She had earned her rest. I couldn't refuse her. It would have been cruel to force her to continue this existence, when her heart wasn't in it... no pun intended."

"It's still beating. Do you... you don't expect me to eat that, do you?"

"Not exactly." Death winced. "You need to consume her essence. It's unsavory, but there isn't another way. I'm sorry."

"I think I might be sick." I choked back vomit, as the idea of what I was about to do settled in my gut. "How do I do this exactly?"

Death grasped the heart in his palm with a saddened look and squeezed it above the potion. A stream of clear liquid was relinquished from his palm. The heart disappeared, as his fist tightened. Her essence purified the potion, eliminating the black and turning it a creamy milk shade. Then, he left me alone with my bizarre shortcut to power. He made sure to tell me that I didn't need to do this, but it barely registered among the millions of thoughts suffocating me.

This was the only route to protect everyone. I couldn't stand to be useless. Forty or so minutes went by before I managed to down the liquid. Sliding down my parched throat, every reflex screamed for me to reject it, but I allowed the icy essence to make its way through my core.

At some point between forcing myself to drink the vile substance and the pains began, I moved back to my favorite spot on the common room sofa. Agony shot through my skull and abdomen. I rested my head on the furniture's arm and cried out.

Death appeared. "Ah, hell, I didn't really think you would do it." He helped me into my room and laid me on the bed, positioning Nyx to curl against my chest.

"You... underestimated... my love for... my friends." I spoke between contractions. Suddenly, the true agony hit, like a current through my body. I arched by back, trying to relieve the buildup of sheer pain, but it had little effect.

For hours I endured the frostbite, as it traveled through the structure of my veins, encompassing my whole, ruthless in its hold. I begged Death to end my misery, but he refused, even when the cold turned to hot lava flowing through the circuits of my brain.

My bones felt like they were grinding against my organs, my brain swelling until I was sure it would explode, and my spine felt as if someone were breaking it repeatedly over their knee. This was Hell.

It was ironic that Death remained at my bedside, since he wasn't delivering me to the afterlife. Instead, he became my caregiver; nursing my forehead with cool rags, tucking the comforter around me when I pushed it off during my spasms, and forcing me to rehydrate. He didn't speak or demand my attention, but smoothed my hair away from my face.

"Please," I croaked. Pleading for an end; even a final one seemed acceptable.

"No." Though he said the word gently, it held power, captivating the agony that had induced my mind. "You will get through this and help your friends. I won't be the one who prevents you from doing so. Do not ask again."

I began to endure, allowing the pain to become one with me, much in the way I was meant to accept the Hellhound.

With a sigh, I sank into a deep sleep filled with continuous dreams. They seemed to take place throughout time in all corners of the world. The constant among them was the conviction to punish the wicked, avenge the innocent, and find a measure of peace.

I could feel my real body shivering with fever, Nyx crawling about me, and Death's occasional presence. I felt certain that days had passed as I lay there comatose, caught in a web of dreams that felt more like memories...



I descended into an unfathomable darkness, struggling and embracing the pit of absolution before being thrust into a blinding light.

I was no longer myself, swimming amongst a sea of cries; begging for judgment, mercy, and renewal. They joined as mobs, collectively attacking my many forms, while simultaneously rejecting me for my chance at redemption. They each attempted a metaphysical handhold on my souls, attempting to gain the ultimate ride back to the living. I denied them such a luxury. I wasn't a vessel for them to use and discard. They hadn't been chosen, as I had been.

I centered on my unique chance at life, each of my many souls united, as they were torn from the abyss to be thrust into a world that they had almost forgotten. A scream rendered from my newly formed self, as I gathered the suspended life into my new lungs.