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[A Lost Soul]

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“The darkness of sin is not absolute. Recognition is your kindling and penance is your flint.” – Author Unknown


Cast into a pit of sulphur, a pool of damnation sitting within a daemon infested basin. Fate had guided its hand towards its defiler, and it had staked its essence into the heart of pain and torment.

Daemons circled the great canyon, torturing the wayward souls of past sinners and unfortunate wanderers. Great plumes of smoke and ash darkened the air, choking and blackening victim’s lungs in an endless cycle of death and rebirth. Screams of pain and cries of inhuman monstrosities deafened suffering inhabitants, compounding the intolerable anguish inflicted upon their souls.

“How long has it been…months…years…millennia…I cannot grasp the concept of time. Pain is the hour hand, and its younger twin is suffering. Minutes and hours, hours and minutes, I have lost who I am… perhaps I am pains avatar, my being fully devoted to its cause.”

A translucent soul shimmered in and out of life and death as white hot liquid burned its figure in ghastly succession, its voice long and sorrowful, merging with other souls in a cacophony of screams.

“Champion of sin! One whom you have slain wishes to indulge perversions upon your essence!”

A daemons voice spoke in enigmatic tones, the very sound raising the soul from its molten bath and onto the upper echelons of the basin. The spirit rose, the pains suddenly halting as its figure glided gracefully through the black ash towards its summoner.

“Clarity…a brief second of salvation, the clock stops, time halted for a precious moment. Something to remember…something once told to ones self. Yes… remember now. The task, the numbers. Quill and parchment like sword and flesh… numbers need birthing.”

From the soul’s mouth, words created from chaotic expression permeated the air. No longer floating through the basin, the soul came to a rest on a ledge. A large daemon adorned the lair ahead, its body a mosaic of scars and boiling wounds. The daemons eyes swiftly locked themselves on the delivered soul.

“The Champion of sin… your vanquish of fates virgin decree has delivered you to me at last. When you buried your blade in me, when I looked into your insolent eyes, a hatred uncommon to my breed consumed me. You birthed emotions; you stained my flawless immortality with weakness.”

The daemon spat at the soul, a look of satisfaction crossed its face as it drew a conflagrant blade from its side.

“I will torture you with pleasure, with a pleasure I should not have known! I will make you suffer with me in immortality, champion; I cause your death to be infinite!”

The daemon rushed towards the silent and still standing soul, its blade readied to cause unrelenting death to its undying offering.

“Quill and parchment, numbers need birthing.”

The soul abruptly began to shimmer, in its hand a blade formed, and over the soul’s body armor now draped. The daemon rushed forth, its attention unfocused at the sudden change in the souls form. A large blade loomed ominously over its sacrifices head, the souls face turned upwards, as if acknowledging the blades descent. Without a moment’s hesitation, the soul twisted its body, side stepping the strike, and with the hand of a master painter carved several wounds into the daemons back.

“Pain and suffering onto you, Champion of sin! Your willpower will do you no good in my domain!”

The daemon reared its head back in anguish as the soul finished the movements of its blade. The daemon quickly recovered, its body moving with inhuman vigor towards the stalwart soul, the oncoming strike far too fluid to avoid.

“Hours and minutes, minutes and hours, the clock ticks and I wait once more”.

The spirits last words were cut off by the burning blade crashing through its armored form, its body reforming and surrendering to strike after strike of endless suffering.

The daemon continued its infinite assault, unaware of the tell-tale scars that now decorated its back...

“67 57’N, 92 48’E”