After what felt like a mile, we finally stepped off the bridge and I let out a relieved sigh. That much open space above and below us had been jarring. We walked down a path, slowly zigzagging back and forth as it crossed below where we had just been. I glanced up, wondering exactly how the level above us was supported if we were now walking directly beneath it. I shivered, averting my eyes at the impossibility of it.

I saw no one.

Heard nothing.

Not even a breeze.

As we descended, frost began to grow over the stones beneath our feet. I glanced down as the rest of the group walked in silence. The cobbled path was made of pale, round stones. A closer inspection let me see it was actually skulls. I grunted distastefully, careful I didn’t trip into an eyehole or open mouth, because as we descended, the path gradually changed from the tops of the skulls to the faces of the skulls. Despite my careful steps, teeth occasionally broke beneath my feet, falling into the skull and making me stumble.

The architect had been thoughtful, though, because he had also incorporated arm and leg bones into the mosaic path, signifying directions when it forked. One thigh bone that was much too large to be human pointed to our left and had strange, almost geometric symbols etched into the surface, likely stating directions. Napalm Hot Tub – Only 666 bajillion miles!

The edge of the long bone featured a skeletal hand, also not human, in a parody of a pointing finger. I stepped back to try and get a wider view of the path and noticed that as we continued – left, if it matters – the path became more detailed, more artistic. No longer just skulls, but various bones from more creatures than I could count formed designs – arcs, squares, circles, stars, and more. I wondered if the Lord of the Dead – as Virgil had called him – had scooped up a few Renaissance artists in a two-for-one discount sale during the Black Death that plagued Europe.

Carl strode down the path without a care in the world, seeming to smile as he whistled to himself – I don’t know how, so don’t ask. Talon’s eyes darted to each crevice of rock as if expecting an ambush. The ceiling was lower here, still more than fifty feet above our heads, but at least we could see it clearly.

“You’ll want to see this,” Virgil said, deadpan. “Everyone usually does, anyway.”

He indicated a large circle in the path ahead. We approached warily and saw that an oval glass surface was set into the path – a dozen paces across – with familiar names etched into the beautiful bone border. The design was obviously inspired by the Greek culture, the same as they had used on their ornate pottery and other treasures. I stared down at the glass and gasped as my vision abruptly distorted. It was some kind of telescope. As I readjusted myself to see clearly, my jaw dropped wide.

Large, giant shapes meandered far, far away, but with the telescope they looked close. I only knew they were large due to readjusting my face in order to see through the glass clearly. As I had leaned closer, the shapes shifted from small to massive. And I saw more of those bat-like creatures flapping in front of one figure’s eye – they were the same size. These figures were huge, but I hadn’t needed proof. I had been able to read the names around the lip of the window.

Still, it was humbling. And frightening. And sad.

The figures stumbled wearily across a barren, rocky surface full of pools of magma and frost – as if the two naturally cohabitated the same climates. Craggy spires and mountains broke the surface here and there, and I saw more of these figures almost as tall as the mountains hammering away at the stone. Then, several more would scoop up the boulders – the size of houses or larger – and carry them over to the other side of their world. Setting them down.

Another large figure stacked these boulders together, hammering them together with his fist, before reaching for another. He was forming another mountain. Just like the one the other figure had destroyed.

I looked closer to one of the magma pools to see that a man stood inside it, muscles bulging as he dredged something up from the pool of knee-high lava. A giant bucket. He set it on the lip of the pool where another figure grabbed the handle – steam billowing up on contact with his hand – and carried it over to the one hammering the boulders into the new mountain.

The figure heaved the lava onto the stack of rocks, filling in the cracks. Mortar for the boulders that made up the new mountain.

Then they repeated the process. Never speaking. Never looking up. Just… working.

Some building, others destroying – using the destroyed mountains to build another.

“The Titans… Tartarus,” Virgil murmured without a hint of his personal opinion on the matter. But as soon as he spoke, every single face in that hellish world turned to look up, right at me. Eyes full of starlight, their pupils and irises like celestial bodies, stared up at me with agony and despair. I turned away, shaking my head.

“How many mountains have they made?” Carl asked, scratching his cheek absently.

“We don’t really count things down here. Bad for morale.”

Talon and I shared a dry look before I motioned Virgil to continue on.

The Titans. Good grief. Tartarus was real. I had read the names around the window – Atlas, Typhon, Gaia… but it was still surreal to witness. I quickened my pace to walk beside Virgil, glancing over at him. He didn’t breathe and his face didn’t change – not a frown, sniff, or blink. Like staring at a cadaver with his eyes open.

“How does it all work?” I asked him. “Are these pocket dimensions or something? So many religions have gods and their own versions of Hell or the Afterlife. Those were Greek Titans, but what about the others? The Christians, Romans, the Norse…” I trailed off, waving my hand to indicate the dozens I hadn’t named.

“Consider them… neighborhoods. In a city, there are districts where the inhabitants are… different, yes? Richer, poorer, more industrious, more… predatory?” I nodded. “Like that. You can wander from one to the other if you wish, but don’t expect a warm welcome, much like a rich nobleman wouldn’t receive a pleasant reception if he wandered down to the slums at midnight.” I nodded to let him know I understood, watching his face. Even with the explanation, there had been no motion other than his mouth moving like a robot.

“These… districts or realms all exist here, much as they all existed, once, in your world.” He sensed my frown and continued. “Just because Christianity has become more popular, has the Norse faith disappeared entirely from the world? Is there only one God on earth now? One replaces another and all forget about the Gods of yesteryear?”

I grunted. “No. But many were from different time periods. Romans replaced Greeks, for example.” He waved a hand as if to remind me of his previous statement. Had all belief in Greek Gods disappeared the moment the Roman Gods stepped into the picture? I sighed, still not satisfied with the answer, but understanding it. Then again, I didn’t really want to understand Hell’s infrastructure. I didn’t plan on sticking around. I’d just wanted to talk. A conversation. Something familiar to, well, two living people.

We continued on in silence for what seemed hours, not much changing, other than the temperature and the fact that we were now miles below where we had started. Between one moment and the next, we reached the bottom of the stairs and I stared in disbelief.

At a forest of black, stunted, rotting trees. White sap oozed from the bark, and although obviously decaying, white leaves grew from the branches. They grew rapidly, because just as rapidly, other growth rotted away to fall to the earth in wet slopping sounds. As if the entire life cycle of everything had increased exponentially, both decay and life. Like zombie trees.

Virgil led us into the deep dark wood, pulling up a hood. I frowned, but as I took another step, I felt rain suddenly falling from above. I stared down at my hands to find red drops striking my skin in the steady downpour. I grimaced.

“Blood rain,” Talon spat, yanking up his own hood. Cats hated to get their fur wet.

Carl on the other hand lifted out his hands and spun in slow circles, almost skipping as he closed his eyes and began to hum softly to himself. It took me a few seconds to recognize the tune and I blinked at him in disbelief. Still spinning, he didn’t notice us staring. Even Virgil.

“Is Elder Voldemort singing My Favorite Things from The Sound of Music?” Talon asked incredulously.

I nodded and then froze, slowly turning to face him. “How would you know that song? Or Voldemort, for that matter?”

He stiffened visibly. “The… the Reds were watching movies with Yahn a few days ago. I happened to pass by. That is all.”

I grinned at him, but he averted his eyes. His tail betrayed him, twitching in time with the beat of the song. I rolled my eyes before continuing after dancing, singing Carl and our silent guide. Sometime later, I was scanning our surroundings, trying to determine how much longer we would be down here, when my palm flashed with a sudden heat. I shouted, glancing down at it to find what had hurt me. The skin of my Crest was whole and unharmed. The pain was already receding as I jerked my gaze up at our surroundings, ready to destroy my attacker.

No one but us was present. I shot a glare at Virgil, but he was simply watching me with those cold, dead eyes. I had no way of knowing whether he knew what had just attacked me, or if he was just curious as to my outburst. Talon and Carl had blades out, circling me uneasily as they glared out at the forest of black trees. Nothing moved. Well, nothing other than the steady slap of rotting foliage falling from the trees and the eternal drumming of the blood rain.

I finally let out a breath. “Let’s go.”

Virgil turned and continued on. I didn’t dare say anything to Talon or Carl. Not with Virgil here. I simply gave them a level look that told them to be alert. I fingered my palm absently, wondering what it had been if not an attack. Some part of me warning me to hurry, that I was too long in Hell? I shivered at that. I’d never met anyone who had come down here like me. Perhaps as the time passed, our bodies would slowly begin to die, infected by the natural order of the Underworld, and a sudden flash of pain was just a natural warning sign to the living.

But I didn’t feel any different. I reached out for my magic and felt it there, as full as ever. I also felt that reservoir of Fae magic Barbie had given me. Not that she had really given me anything, but she had done more in restoring my balance with that two-minute lap dance than seven days of meditation could have done. I checked my other internal indicators, everything seeming to be normal, but that only made me more anxious. I needed to hurry, but that was nothing new.

But was Virgil aware of what the sensation had been? Dared I ask him? Would he even answer if he knew? I eyed the trees cautiously, wondering if anything lived here, or if the trees were alive. Which meant my shoulders were practically knots after a few more hours of walking.

Finally, Virgil rounded on us. “We rest.”

I skidded to a halt, almost bumping into him in surprise. I’d been walking robotically, wondering when the hell we were going to get anywhere useful. “Um. I wasn’t planning on taking a nap down here. We’re kind of on a timetable.”

“We sleep. Or we will never make it.”

“No offense, but I have trust issues. How do I know you won’t leave us to die? Or let us sleep for a thousand years?”

He cocked his head. “I have agreed to take you to the Lord of the Dead. I would not betray you. I cannot betray you. I promise that we will get to our destination as quickly as possible, without delay. You are considered a… high value guest. I was informed not to delay, but for you to survive what comes next, you should rest. We have walked far, and energy is burned up faster down here than you are accustomed to. You might not feel it, but you are more exhausted than you know. Without sleep, you will suddenly collapse from exhaustion without warning when you least desire it, having never realized you were at the brink of your endurance.”

I grimaced. Was that what that flash of pain had been? I glanced down at my palm quickly, but still felt no lingering effects. Had my body been trying to warn me? Virgil had made a deal with us… I turned to Talon and Carl, arching an eyebrow.

Talon glared at Virgil for a moment. “I am quite proficient at naps. My body is trained to sleep no longer than I desire. If I wish an hour, only an hour shall pass.”

“Hell of a thing to put stock in. Catnaps. You sure?” I waved a hand at our surroundings. “Even in this place?” He nodded confidently. “Okay. But only an hour. Hear that, Virgil?”

He nodded. “That will be sufficient.” With that, he lay down under a nearby rock overhang that kept the blood rain at bay. He closed his eyes and lay still. Not breathing or moving in the slightest. Like a dead body.

“Carl, take first watch. Talon and I will nap this time, and you can nap at our next stop.”

The Elder grinned back at me, nodding. “No worries.” The crazy bastard looked eager to get a few moments of privacy in this land of death. Maybe to go pick berries or something.

I lay down, staring up at the rock overhang and the decaying trees dripping with red rain. I didn’t think it was possible to get any sleep in this place. I was too amped up.

I closed my eyes.