Scribe: From The Wiles Vol. 24

The irregular rhythm of rusted iron against rock permeates through the hot underground. A desolate, gargantuan cavity houses a molten wasteland with men and women boring into its foundation.

It has been 7,432 days since Soren arrived here with the condemned—cursed with an eternity of punishment when purgatory caved in. He remembers the great beast who coveted a thousand souls to create his empire. Scouring through the underworld, the beast threatened the dead with hellfire but a few lost souls weren’t enough.

And thus, in his unholy lust, he annihilated the sanctuary between death and paradise.

Soren remembers the sight of bodies free-falling in a hollow ravine, salvation’s light growing dim and distant. Limbs flailed in an attempt to grasp whatever there is to grasp and the broken choir of a thousand horrid screams pierced from every direction. The crackling of bones and the sloshing of blood decorating the terror orchestra was burned into Soren’s mind ever since.

Now, Soren spends his days as a cog in a wretched dominion.

For his first four years, it was gathering the bones of the fallen. For the next seven, it was eating the coarse, hot sea of sand all about the underworld. For six more, it was pooling a river of boiling blood. And now, it is to mine into the rock indefinitely.

But Soren knew that deliverance was divinely prophesied. Down the river of blood and behind the gory waterfall lay a cavern. Slaves would carefully trod about the treacherous cliffside to behold the grotto’s inscription.

At first, Soren dismissed the holy writ as a false promise, but it has been six years since the scripture was first found and everything has come as it had predicted. Before the pouring of the crimson river, prophecy bled onto the rock in pure white light. Those who laid witness were enthralled—it reminded them of the post-mortem bliss before arriving in purgatory. The Elysian Fields could almost be felt through the light as it was written: Hear me, fallen souls: the almighty has seen you suffer in this wretched place. The beast has remained sharp, but after two decades, he has grown careless—too engrossed by his work.

I know he had commanded every man and woman to eat the sand along this place. I know that his demand is now a river of blood. You must hide this 38