'Salem shall not be pleased about this, Sachaih.' Arithe Vinhalen said to his brother with a troubled note in his tone. Sachaih nodded and rubbed his red-raw eyes with the back of his rough hand. He was beginning to feel dizzy and disorientated.
'Yes, I know brother, I know.'
Blistered masses were beginning to form above his eyelids as the burning icodeane started to soak into his skin. The toxic liquid kept spreading across his face until his nose and cheeks grew dry and irritated and the pupils of his eyes felt as if they were ablaze with fire hotter than the depths of hell.
Unaware of his brother's severe discomfort, Arithe continued pacing up and down the dark, musty cellar of which they stood; His heavy, black combat boots crunching on the uneven surface.
'We'll be sent to the crossroads, Sachaih!' He exclaimed with grief.
'That will not be, brother, I shall make certain of that' Sachaih said painfully. Arithe stopped pacing and threw his arms in the air.
'But how can one be sure? We have broken almost every law in the book of Divide! When Salem is informed, we shall be banished! Or worse.'
'Brother, we are the only remaining of the Vinhalen clan; we are Das Naite of the Divide. We are Hellboys! Nothing too terrible will become of us, I am sure.' with some effort, Sachaih lifted his head to stare directly into the piercing black of Arith è's eyes.
'I Hope you are correct, Sachaih,' Arithe said, shaking his head. 'Or we are done.'
Chapter One - The Devil's prodigy
Lord Salem watched on with a sadistic smirk as his Dark Knights threw another screaming soul into the burning pit of fire. He listened to the crackling and splitting of flesh as the flames engulfed its victim and swallowed them whole, the screech of excruciating agony only making him smile more. Salem waited for the Hellboys to rejoin him and praised them when they came.
'Well done, Das Naite!' he said, clasping his hands together gleefully. The highly adept Knights, Zaire Vasili and Dexter Chary nodded stiffly.
'Our duty, Sir.'
'Indeed…' Salem mused. 'I hope you both will be available, as another is due to be executed in the next day or so - the filthy, ungrateful sinners.'
'We will do as you wish, Sir.' They both said in emotionless unison.
Salem nodded. 'Well, you both may leave now. Find Xara. She has some errands for you both to run in the Otherworld... Such a nice day for it, too' He looked around his domain with closely observant eyes, admiring the rocky walls and the large, endlessly deep cracks in the earth of which spilled out billows of heat and rained ashes of the dead. Narrow walkways that formed from the walls lined the space above them where the sweating, lower ranking Hellboys worked - Shoveling rocks and shifting dirt to be used as building material for separation walls and hand-made storage caves in the future. Along the edges of the bottom floor were tall, pointed stalagmites and iron barred cells holding terrified prisoners - most of them being deceased Humans of whom had misused their lives in the Otherworld. This was, for lack of a better word, Hell, and they were all more than likely on death-row, awaiting their permanent demise.
The Knights bowed to their unrighteous master and sullenly turned to leave. Salem eyed the two with a satisfactory expression as they disappeared from his line of vision. Despite their rigid, disciplined facade, He knew exactly what they were thinking. He knew what all of his Das Naite were thinking. It was ever so obvious that they felt bound and restricted by the order that he had on Hell, because that was his aim - his vision, Complete and Utmost control. And, he certainly hadn't failed in that respect. Pandemonium was a place of Demons, or, to be more accurate, Hellboys. They lived and worked serving as slaves, enduring various forms of hard and often painful labor under the command and watchful eye of Lord Salem himself. Depending on the bloodline, some Hellboys were chosen to be put through intensive training, even against their will, with the possibility of becoming part of a select group, otherwise known as the sons of Das Naite or, Knights of darkness when translated into more current terms. For those who succeeded, a lengthened lifetime of difficult tasks and challenges with honorable rewards awaited them in the future. They would perform executions, and give secondhand orders to keep things running smoothly. Occasionally, Knights would be sent to the otherworld, where they would subtly help along the wicked to their death. But most importantly, they would fight. Fight to keep hell protected, and to keep Salem safe. After all, if Salem were to fall, quite literally, all hell would break loose.
Zaire Vasili clenched his fists as he walked. He felt the anger and turmoil boiling inside of him, twisting in his gut and clawing at his conscience, just waiting to explode in a rush of violence. He let out heavy, grunting breaths as if trying to console himself into calming down. A step behind him, Dexter Chary eyed him warily.
"Control your self, Vasili" Dexter warned, although Zaire was already trying his hardest.
-To be continued-