>>5160346>>5160351>>5160561>>5160586>>5160609>>5160866A part of you thrills at this rare opportunity for a legendary descent into the underworld of the demons. You relish the thought of conquering and subjugating this place in the name of the Dark Gods, or at least of wresting your fellow agent from the presumption of these shades of less darkness, and carrying her triumphant into the waiting embrace of the true Gods of the Dark…
But that’s a fantasy, isn’t it? A dream—appropriate, given that you are dreaming. You are naked, alone (save Irinnile), and unarmed. You could relinquish your soul coin to buy Chika back, or use your Divine favour to summon Chika to you or to gird you against horror and torment as you descend deeper…
But you are also afraid. Afraid to fail in your more imperative missions. Afraid of eternal torment. Afraid of wasting your boons and your loot.
“Irinnile, guide us back,” you instruct the succubus, who practically collapses with visible relief as the terrified tension leaves her astral form.
“THANK YOU,” she exclaims. “I knew you’d see sense, babe.”
You gaze past your demonic companion, deep into the abyss. You listen, but you do not hear your former comrade-in-arms cry out again. You hope Chika can hold out, endure as you were all surely trained. Perhaps another time… When all this is over… You will come back for her.
Irinnile take syour hand, and you allow her to do so. She guides you away from this place, as Death watches you go. You bow your head respectfully, and Death ‘s own skull simply tilts in curiosity. Irinnile takes to the wing, carrying you with her, as Death turns away. You, too, return your attention to other matters—primarily, the trio of powerfully-built aerial abominations who pursue the two of you on the wing.
“Faster!” you command.
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Irnnile says through gritted teeth. “Don’t exactly wanna’ get caught by those big fuckers, neither!”
As Irinnile carries you higher and further, dogged all the way by the jeering, ravening devilspawn behind you, you shut your eyes against the ever-more-intense wind, and the noxious acidity it carries not your every orifice. When you open them again, you find yourself once more in the impenetrable misma of this place’s borderlands, and you shut them again for all the good your eyes will do you here.
Thus blinded, you can only listen to the wingbeats of your pursuers ever closer, can feel Irinnile straining, and can hear her cursing and swearing in a dozen tons as the gap grows ever narrower.
