He watched as thin strands of dark, almost blackened blood lifted from the stake, rising slowly through the air and drifting toward the tear in the veil.
Inch by inch, the opening began to grow.
The underworld responded at once. It pulled at the wisps of corrupted blood like something starving, consuming them greedily until, on the other side, the wooden stake finally crumbled into ash.
“Master!” the lizard cried, excitement thrumming through its entire body.
It dropped to all fours and moved with startling speed across the cracked wastelands of the underworld, dragging Blade’s awareness along with it. Everything blurred as it raced forward.
The barren land suddenly broke into a line of twisted trees, separating the wastelands from grassy plains that appeared beyond. As they passed through, the terrain shifted again. Grass gave way to cobbled stone paths, and towering buildings glinted in a ghostly red light.
The structures loomed overhead, vast and menacing from the creature’s perspective. Demons moved through the streets, their feet dangerously close, but the lizard wove between them with single minded determination.
It slipped through a crack in the stone path and rushed into what Blade could only assume were the sewers of hell. Dark water sloshed around them, but as this was a vision, he could not smell or feel it. He was grateful for that. He did not want to know what the filth of hell truly smelled like.
They emerged into what looked like a courtyard of a castle carved directly from the face of a mountain. Smooth black rock rose four storeys high, imposing and ancient.
“Master!” the lizard called, turning down a path that led away from the castle to a small cottage just a few paces away. He reached the door and stretched to his full height, which wasn’t much. “Master!” he called again.
“What?” an angry voice snapped from inside.
“Open the door. Open the door. It’s happening.”
The door was wrenched open, revealing a drunken imp. He was small framed, with narrow shoulders and tiny horns barely visible beneath the fall of ashy blond hair trailing down his back. He wore disheveled, dirty clothes that looked like they had been chewed up and spat out. He bent forward, nearly losing his balance as he came closer to the lizard.
“Why are you shouting?” he slurred. “Do you want the whole palace to hear you?”
“No. Sorry. But this is an emergency. The rift is opening again,” the lizard whispered.
The imp froze, his eyes clearing as the haze of drunkenness vanished.
“Let me see,” he said, taking hold of the lizard as he straightened.
He stared into its eyes and the entire scene from earlier replayed in the creature’s mind.
The imp dropped it as if it had burned him.
“This is it. This is…” he shouted, suddenly bouncing on his feet. “I have to go,” he said, smoothing his hands down the front of his clothes. “I need to see the prince.”
He rushed back into the cottage.
The sound of running water filled the silence, then cut off abruptly. A few minutes later, he came back out again, now dressed in clean trousers and an intricate shirt that looked almost woven from metal threads.
He hurried forward, the lizard following close behind.
“I do not know if he will see me. He has not called for me in so long. I wonder if he even remembers me. I should be glad he forgot,” the imp muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Others did not fare so well after the war.”
“You are the only one still alive, master,” the lizard said, its claws clicking against the stone floor.
“I know. And I would very much like to keep my neck,” he muttered. “That is why I hid in the cottage. He has been on a rampage since we lost the war, trying to impress his brothers. He wanted to take over the land of the living, make the prophecy come true. ‘A true king of the underworld and the living shall rise’, the seer had said. Now everyone else is paying for it.”
“Then do not tell him what you saw,” the lizard said.
“Are you crazy? He will find out eventually. I would rather he hear it from me. And besides, I want my old life back. The privileges, all of it. Living like this after the war feels like death itself,” the imp said.
“The prince wants that too. He wants to carve his own path, leave a mark, earn his father’s respect. Be the true king. And I can give him that. We will not fail this time.”
He entered the castle, moving through the shadows unnoticed.