To Hell With You
Adrian and Rebecca lay on the roof of their house, counting moons.
“There’s Judgement,” said Rebecca. “And Exile behind it.”
“There’s Flood,” Adrian pointed to a blue crescent. “I don’t see Famine or Pestilence.”
Rebecca pointed to a red orb. “There is War.”
They searched for Phobos, Yoke and Gaol. Phobos was not up, but Yoke was just peeking above the horizon. Gaol was a pale white dot, inching toward zenith.
“When we die,” said Rebecca. “Do you think we’ll reincarnate in one of the hells?” She gestured to the night sky.
“No,” said Adrian. “We will reincarnate here, and be lovers in the next life as well.”
Fifteen years later, in the year of our Lord 1102, Rebecca died of pneumonia. She left behind her loving husband Adrian and their daughter Aesha. They buried her in the family orchard, beneath a fig tree. Aesha was nine years old.
These are the Nine Moons of Hell:
- Judgement
- Exile
- Flood
- Famine
- Pestilence
- War
- Phobos
- Yoke
- Gaol
In Death our hearts are weighed, and the ferryman takes us to a new shore: Hell for the wicked, and Earth for the redeemed.
None can deny these facts. Lift your eyes to the heavens and behold the kingdom of God.
On the tenth day of winter in the year 1104, God came to Adrian and commanded him to murder his child.
This is how it was supposed to go: Adrian would have placed his daughter on the altar. He would have raised his knife, trusted his faith, and made his strike. And God would have turned the blade. Adrian would have passed the test of loyalty, and stories of his faith would have been told for a thousand years.
But that is not how this story goes.
Aesha lay on the altar with her hands unbound. Her dark hair pooled on grey stone. What God had commanded, she was willing to give.
Adrian was not willing to give it. Instead, he dropped the knife and wept. Only then did his daughter’s face show fear.
There came a tearing of the firmament, and the archangel Michael manifested in the temple. Adrian drew his sword.
“Aesha, go now. Run!”
“You fool,” Michael spoke in a voice that could trigger landslides. “You think you can outrun God?” He drew his own sword, and the sound of it was like a violin screaming.
“I can die trying.” Adrian stepped forward, taking guard. “Aesha, go!”
Michael attacked. He rained blows upon the mortal before him. “You think you can abort God’s parable without consequences?”
Adrian retreated from the ringing steel, buying time for his daughter to escape. He did everything he could to delay the inevitable outcome. Finally he turned aside the angel’s blade, pivoted on his foot, and swung down upon his enemy.
His sword bounced off the porcelain skin, ringing like a bell. His hands went completely numb. The angel punched him in the gut and kicked the sword away.
“Adrian of Erys. For crimes of Treason against God / You are hereby sentenced / To eternal suffering / In Hell’s Ninth Orbit.” A halo of iridescent mana flared about its untroubled brow, the spell growing in intensity before slamming into Adrian. “[Banish].”
The world blinked. Adrian was assaulted by freezing winds and darkness. Solid ice burned against his hands and knees. A snowstorm howled in all directions.
Adrian knew he would die of exposure if he didn’t move. His sword was gone, his clothes were not fit for these conditions. Already his teeth were chattering.
He screamed, and it tore painfully at his throat. Why God? I have served thee God, and I have loved thee God, and I am here God, please!
The Mark of the Covenant sang in his veins, searching like an antenna for a signal. But Hell is the absence of God, and there was no reply.
Through frost-rimmed lashes he saw a faint yellow light, and stumbled towards it. The buffeting winds grew weaker as he approached, and suddenly he stepped across a threshold into preternatural calm. His breath plumed into the freezing air.
There in hushed twilight he saw the Colony for the first time. A huddled mass of gaunt and dirty sinners, faces like skulls, pressed together for warmth. Their dead eyes stared through him.
At the center stood a cloaked, horned demon with a shepherd's crook. Heat rippled off his red skin and orange light bathed the congregation. They crowded pathetically toward the warmth.
Adrian studied the scene while his fingers grew numb. He could recite chapter and verse the doctrine of samsara and the atonements demanded by the nine moons of hell. God had sent him here to suffer in the darkest orbit, forever.
My daughter is still alive, he thought. I am not yet ready to die.
He slid down the snowy embankment and joined the crowd. They were packed together like fish in a net. The entire mob slowly churned as those at the freezing edges pushed their way back to the warmth at the centre.
For hours he shuffled this way and that, unable to rest. He gazed up at the night sky and saw streamers of green and blue fire. Planet Earth rose above the horizon, half in shadow. White clouds swirled over blue oceans. Adrian looked at the Earth and began to cry. He cried until at some point, he fell asleep, still held in the embrace of murderers and thieves.
Adrian was awoken by the feverish mumblings of a madman.
He was warm—pressed against bodies on all sides—though the soles of his feet were cold and the wind lashed his face.
“Can’t you hear that?”
Adrian saw the light of madness in the man’s eyes.
“Can’t you hear that? They said I’ve suffered enough. I’ve learned my lesson—God knows I have!—I’ve been redeemed! I just have to—“
A small scuffle broke out as others shoved him back.
“Don’t listen to the voices, Soleman. They’re not real.”
Adrian looked where Soleman had pointed. Out beyond the circle of the demon’s lamp, unnamed things slunk in the shadows.
“I can go home again,” Soleman whispered, leaning drunkenly against his friend.
Adrian felt the warmth of an open furnace, and turned to see the red demon parting the crowd. The shepherd’s crook was planted at the centre of the Colony, and the lamp hung there. The demon walked alone out into the darkness and there was a sharp crack, then a shriek, and the lurking shadows were suddenly fleeing. Then the demon returned to the light.
As he passed by Adrian, the demon stopped and turned to him. “Adrian. Come with me, we need to talk.”
Adrian walked beside the demon at sunrise.The ice was painted in pink and golds in the east, and the shadows of the sinners were long in the west.
“I am Sangrun, the weigher of souls, who balances sin and suffering.”
“I know.”
“You doubted God.”
“I did.”
“You disobeyed God.”
“I did.”
“You raised your sword to an angel.”
“I did.”
“And for that you are punished.”
Adrian balled his fists. “I did what I had to do!”
“God does not care about your good intentions. Sins shall be balanced with suffering, that is the law. God has decreed that you shall be punished eternally.”
“What sin? The sin of love? The sin of mercy? Fuck you! Send me back!”
“Do you think you’re the first to say they shouldn’t be here?”
“You don’t care? Am I so insignificant to you?”
Sangrun gazed at the horizon. “I have been here since before the first sunrise. I walked alone with the first man to ever take a life, and I have shepherded the broken in spirit ever since. You have no idea… what I would give to find significance in this ocean of time.”
Adrian looked up also. The earth and its moons were fading in the brightening sky. “Then what am I to do?”
They stood in silence. Demon and man, framed by sunrise, above the host of the damned.
“In the oceans of Gaol swims a creature called the Leviathan. It was created before Sin. No demon nor sinner may harm it.”
The wind whistled between them.
“If you want to see your daughter again, then you must kill the Leviathan. If you bring me its heart, then I will set you free.”
To be continued...