Six feet under
The table saw him march in, but didn’t pay him any mind, far more invested in their own conversations. His strides were quick. Halfway into the room, he called out Dolion’s name, catching everyone’s attention for a moment. Only mildly interested in what he was about to say, Dolion raised his eyebrows, condescending as he leaned against his chair.
“Meet me in your office,” Nathaniel commanded.
The table went quiet, then immediately erupted into jeers and whistles. Dolion followed without protest, dissatisfaction on his face.
“What’s in Aiden’s contract that allowed his ownership to be transferred?” Nathaniel asked, cutting right to the chase before Dolion had a chance to speak. “I couldn’t find anything about it despite reading the contract three times over.”
“That clause isn’t in his contract with Zea; it’s in Zea’s contract with me—that’s why you couldn’t find it. Part of our negotiations discussed Aiden’s ownership as payment for our services. There was a good back and forth between us, of course, but we eventually settled on the deal we have today. Zea was never particularly interested in keeping Aiden around.”
“How can I buy him from you?”
Dolion grinned. “Well, there it is, the heart of your obsession. I knew it was just a matter of time until you showed it.”
“Answer the question.”
Beyond smug, Dolion reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin black wallet, from which he removed a golden ticket just like the one Venn had given Victoria yesterday. This one, however, shone with Aiden’s name, pinched between Dolion’s fingers. “How much are you willing to sacrifice for this?”
“What are your terms?”
“You already know what I want.” A hand closed around the ticket to hide it from view. “Sign with me.”
Nathaniel squinted. “Where’s Zea’s contract with you?”
“You’re not going to read it.”
“Then I’m not signing with you.”
Dolion shrugged, faux dismissive. He opened his hand to flash the ticket again. “We could negotiate, you know. Reading Zea’s contract could be part of it.”
“I’m not signing anything before I read it.”
“And you’re not reading anything before you sign, so I guess we’re at an impasse.”
A deep breath left Nathaniel’s lungs, illustrating his vexation. There was only one person who could help him in this situation. “Leave,” he ordered, walking over to Dolion’s desk. “I need to think.”
The offense on Dolion’s face was practically tangible, kicked out of his own office. Instead of arguing, however, he stashed the ticket back in his wallet and left. If Nathaniel could affront The Prince of The Abyss with no repercussions, then his influence truly knew no bounds. What did that make him? Sitting at the desk, he pulled the handset off the hook.
Charmaine didn’t take long to answer. “Yes?”
“It’s me.”
“I’ve been wondering when you’d call. Did Aiden make it?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. He’s actually under Dolion’s control. Did you know that?”
“He must’ve signed with him.”
“Dolion’s a cunning son of a bitch,” he continued, practically speaking over her. “He never told me how contracts were made or that there was a price for them. Steep, too. I knew it was a trap the moment he tried to rope me in. His insistence was very telling.”
“You don’t need him, though, do you? Unless you’ve changed your mind about Blaz.”
“No, I want to buy Aiden from him. They have these tickets with names on them; I think that’s how they prove who owns who at what given time. I could try to force it from him, but if anyone could just steal tickets from each other, they wouldn’t be showing them off the way they do. There must be something more to it, some security system I’m unfamiliar with. I need to make him want to hand it over, but how? What do you know about this?”
“Not much, Nathaniel. I know they deal in influence and power, but I’m not sure how any of it works. You’d have to ask a resident to help you with that. Maybe Otteyo could be of use.”
“Otteyo?”
“He’s one of the abyssal creatures. I don’t know much about him, but the way Dolion speaks of him is very interesting. As far as I can tell, they work together, but Dolion seems strangely terrified of him.”
“Do you know where this Otteyo is?”
“No. Try asking around; someone’s bound to help.”
He obviously couldn’t ask anyone in the building or they’d rat him out to Dolion, but he didn’t exactly know anyone else. The only other person he’d talked to had been that soldier back at the military base. Briefly thanking her, he hung up and got up to leave.
The soldier was still stationed on the wall, up where he could monitor the other side. He had a spear in hand, but didn’t aim it; he just watched Nathaniel land about five feet away. Nathaniel could now tell that the helmet on his head was the right size for him; it just wobbled back and forth because of the horns that were trapped beneath it, or that was how it looked.
“Whoa, dude, you look… way different,” the demon commented. “What’s that on your face?”
“You don’t want to know. Thanks for helping me earlier, by the way; I found Dolion after all. The Prince.”
“No problem, man. Uh.” An awkwardness tilted the demon’s head aside, grip tightening on the spear. “Was it you who flew through the semita yesterday? Early in the evening?”
“Yes.” And he would leave it at that. “You’ve helped me before, so I’m assuming you can help me again. Do you know anyone named Otteyo, by chance?”
The demon’s entire demeanor changed the moment he said that name, eyes growing wide with fear. Interesting. So Dolion wasn’t the only one possibly afraid of this creature.
“Where did you hear about him?” the soldier whispered.
“I have business with him, but don’t know where he is. Should I be concerned?”
The demon hesitated to answer.
“What do you know about him?” Nathaniel pushed, sterner than before.
“They’re all rumors; I’ve never seen the creature myself, so I don’t know if any of it is true.” He fidgeted with the spear. “They say he feeds off of abyssal souls… our souls; that his hands are bigger than our entire bodies and have giant mouths on them.”
“Do you know where he is?”
The soldier’s eyebrows furrowed, turned upwards with concern. “Are you sure about this?”
“He’s not going to touch me. If anything, he’s the one in danger here.”
The demon nodded with consideration. “Well, he usually hangs around this old wheat farm over there.” He pointed his spear toward it, a location west from where they stood. “You can barely see it from here. That little brown dot in the distance.”
“I see it.” Nathaniel scowled, turning back to the demon. “Why would a demon-eating creature live so far away from every other demon around? Seems counterproductive.”
“I don’t know; I’m just glad he does.”
The countryside extended much further than he’d thought, painting a significant portion of land beige with the wheat plantation. The barn was in a circular clearing right in the middle, old and decrepit. He landed right in front of a big hole in the wall. In the dark, it was impossible to see what hid inside, despite his improved eyesight.
“Otteyo?” he called, unsheathing the knife from its scabbard. Nothing moved. “Otteyo, we need to talk. I have a few questions to ask.”
The air was still. It made his skin crawl. Cautiously, he walked through the hole in the wall, knife pressed tightly against his palm. Venturing forth regardless, he allowed the darkness to consume him. His eyes eventually managed to make out the missing tiles on the roof and the stable-like partitions protruding from the walls.
“Don’t try me, Otteyo.”
In the distance, there was a dash of light, faint but visible. His eyebrows bounced, body ready to go; every ounce of his attention was laser-focused on his surroundings. He walked toward it, boots shuffling through the dirt. The closer he got, the more accurately he could tell it was coming from the very end of the barn, partially behind one of the stable-like stalls. His heart raced as he approached. Peeking around the partition, he was met with a flash of light, too dim to blind him.
Otteyo stared back at him, one giant eyeball glowing in the dark, knees bent close to his chest. At each of his sides, lying on the ground, were long appendages attached to his shoulders, growing bigger and thicker towards the hands, as big as Nathaniel himself. His body was small in comparison to his hands—could he even raise his own arms? His skin was smooth and bare, with the hint of a pair of wings poking out from his back, too small to lift him off the ground. They stuck out in stiff angles, riddled with holes, battered and broken. It reminded Nathaniel of a different creature, just as broken. The thought put a slight smirk on his face.
Otteyo blinked, black ooze dripping from his eye—blood or tears? Fat and thick, they traveled down his chest. There was no evidence of a face, or even a head; infinite darkness surrounding the eye. Nathaniel grimaced.
Nathaniel… The word was a gentle whisper in his mind, a mix of awe and terror. The light etched within you appalls me. It’s so beautiful. My soul… burns.
“Does it hurt?” He rounded the corner to speak, now standing directly in front of Otteyo. His fingers were the size of Nathaniel’s feet.
Yes. You despise me.
“That shouldn’t surprise you.”
One of the giant hands twitched, arm bending to raise it off the ground. Before it could touch Nathaniel, he took one of the fingers and squeezed it, soft like foam.
“Do not try me. I will hurt you.”
There are no bones in my hands. I disgust you.
“Otteyo.”
The hand tried to move, resisting the hold, so he sliced that finger off. Blood gushed from the wound, splattering across his chest. Otteyo flinched from the pain, eye blinking once. Considering just how easy it was to sever a finger, it was clear Otteyo had been telling the truth. Nathaniel pointed the knife at Otteyo’s eye, severed finger oozing in his hand. Otteyo shook a bit.
Will you take another one?
“If you move.”
As if on command, the hand in front of him made to grab him, palm stretching before his chest. He took a step back, just out of reach. Letting go of the severed finger, he sliced the others off, easy and quick. With his blood boiling, he tossed the last one at Otteyo, eye flinching.
Please, Otteyo pleaded, his voice shaky and broken, the last one. Take the last one.
Without hesitation, Nathaniel grabbed the last finger and cut it off. Blood pooled on the ground, over his boots. The slit across Otteyo’s palm was large enough to swallow him whole. Curious, he slipped his hands inside and forced the slit open. Too dark to see, he reached in, searching blindly. He touched a coat of slime over something firmer, too slippery to grab. A chest? An arm? It was impossible to tell.
New stubs quickly began to replace the lost fingers. Deep inside Otteyo’s wrist, Nathaniel reached a face—a nose, a mouth, two open eyes; there was no mistaking it. There was another one next to it, possibly piled onto another; multiple bodies, all containing horns. So the rumors were true. The new stubs on Otteyo’s hand quickly sharpened into talons; Nathaniel took a step back, knife out. By the time Otteyo swiped at him, he was out of reach.
“You tricked me.” Fire burned in his chest. “You’re going to fucking regret it.”
You’re beautiful. Otteyo’s tone seemed out of it, entranced. I want to feel you. Your blood… Does it shine? Does it hurt? Let me touch you. Please.
Dodging another swipe, Nathaniel stuck the knife into Otteyo’s wrist, slashing it open. Blood gushed out, vomiting one of the bodies. Another two were visible through the gash, still trapped. They were clearly no longer alive.
“Freak,” Nathaniel spat, shoving Otteyo’s hand away. The other hand remained on the ground. “You’re not going to fucking touch me.”
Otteyo watched him come over with a glint in his eye, enamored. Please.
The arm next to Nathaniel tried to touch him. Rage erupted, overtaking him completely; in the heat of the moment, he plunged the knife straight into Otteyo’s eyeball. Blood rained down his face.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” he shouted, knife twisting deep into the eyeball. The light still shone.
Why are you speaking to me? Otteyo asked, a loving tone in his voice. I don’t deserve you.
Nathaniel pulled the knife back, hand dripping with blood. The spill on his face clung to his skin. “Don’t move,” he ordered, breathing hard. “You’re pissing me off.”
I won’t. I’m sorry. You’re here and my heart is beating; I don’t know what to think. I can’t control myself. My feelings… are overwhelming. I’m—
“Shut up.”
Otteyo obeyed this time, growing still.
“You work with Dolion,” Nathaniel started. He swung the knife back, blood flying off the blade, cleaning it. “I need information on him. He has something I want.”
That item must be priceless.
“He is.” He wiped the knife on his pants. “Would you like to be useful?”
Please.
“Tell me what you know about human souls. How are they exchanged? More importantly, how can I get one?”
You’ll need something to trade with; a soul for a soul… unless what you have is better. You don’t have a ticket to spare.
“No, I don’t.” He sheathed the knife back in its scabbard.
Is it Aiden?
Despite the lack of eyesight, Otteyo still glanced up at him.
“What if I take your eye to him, huh? I think he’d like that. He’s terrified of you, after all. Did you know that?”
It’s a misunderstanding. What happened… I didn’t know they were his parents. Otteyo turned away, arm shuffling around. They were vile; their darkness abyssal—I simply had to have them.
“Did you do it in front of him?”
Otteyo didn’t answer. His uninjured hand lifted, but didn’t try to swat at Nathaniel this time; it held the stubby, discarded fingers in its palm instead, an offering.
Take one. It should be more than enough to exchange for Aiden.
Nathaniel took them all.
I treasure you, Otteyo said just as he turned to leave. It dug a scowl into his forehead.
“Why?”
Your villainy is remarkable.
Scoffing dismissively, Nathaniel left.
“Dolion!” His voice thundered across the dining room. As demons turned to look at him, he tossed Otteyo’s fingers on the table, over their food and drink. The demons all shot up from their seats, horror on their faces. The sight brought Dolion to the verge of tears, red eyes shining. “I believe you have something that belongs to me,” Nathaniel continued, lower now.
“You killed… Otteyo?” Zea asked. The shock that emanated from the rest of the table made it clear that he spoke for all of them.
Trembling, Dolion pulled out his wallet.
“I simply paid him a visit,” Nathaniel explained.
As soon as the golden ticket caught the light, Zea’s perplexity turned into fury.
“You killed him for Aiden?!”
“I’d never kill a demon-eating champion.”
That comment made the entire table take a step back; the fear in their eyes put a smile on Nathaniel’s face. Dolion carefully placed the ticket on the table, then stepped away. With a very quick movement, Zea swiped the ticket for himself. He was the only one in the room that wasn’t completely terrified of Nathaniel.
“This is what you want?” Zea shouted. The rage in his bloodstream was visible on his face, eyes sharp with hatred. “This is what your love does, Nathaniel; it makes you maim. It puts the rest of the world second.”
Nathaniel’s smile widened. “This isn’t even half of what I’d do for him. If it took all the demons in The Abyss to have that ticket, I’d slay every single one.”
Zea ripped the ticket in two. Nathaniel’s heart stopped; the room gasped. In the distance, loud noises echoed, followed by hysterical screaming.
“What did you just do?” Nathaniel asked, wide-eyed. “Zea, what did you just do?”
A loud sound pulled him back to reality, drawing the room’s attention to a servant that had just rushed in. “Sir!” she gasped, eyebrows screwed tight. “Sir, Aiden—!”
That was all Nathaniel needed to hear.
Pots and pans littered the kitchen floor. With his heart beating out of his chest, Nathaniel shouldered through the crowd to where Aiden lay, eyes half-lidded, in and out of consciousness. Kneeling down, he scooped Aiden up into his arms. His entire body went numb. What was happening? Aiden’s name slipped from his lips as he shook him, trying to make him wake up. His skin was so pale that Otteyo’s blood looked like tar, smeared all over Aiden now.
“Nathaniel,” Aiden breathed, fighting for consciousness. “I love you.”
“Aiden, Aiden, stay with me. Look at me. What’s happening? Aiden, what’s happening?”
A hand tried to come up to his chest but failed halfway through, falling over Aiden’s stomach. Nathaniel took it and squeezed it.
“Find me in the stars.” Aiden’s voice was so quiet Nathaniel could barely hear him. “Please, find me.”
“Aiden,” he protested, chest heaving with every breath. His hand was deathly cold. “Aiden, don’t—don’t—Aiden. Aiden.”
The crowd was perfectly silent, gathered around the two of them. Aiden closed his eyes, and the weight of his body slowly began to dissipate; skin growing see-through, disappearing. Nathaniel clung to him as hard as he could, shouting his name, tears blinding his vision. His chest ached, more painful than anything he’d ever experienced. Aiden’s soul dispersed right in front of him, leaving his arms empty and his heart broken. He screamed, scaring the crowd away.
Aiden couldn’t be gone. With a deep burning in his chest, he got up and left the kitchen. It was only the ticket that had been ripped, not Aiden’s soul itself—shouldn’t the contract be voided now? The abyssal board was still in the entrance hall when he returned, huddled at the head of the table. His presence was extremely upsetting, evidenced by the way they all stepped away from him. The only one who wasn’t in the room anymore was Zea.
“What happened to Aiden?” Nathaniel asked. “Only the ticket was torn. Where is his soul now?”
“It’s gone,” Venn spoke quietly. “His soul was bound to the contract. The moment his ownership was nullified, so was his soul.”
No. His heart raced, hands shaking. It wasn’t possible.
“Where is he now?” he repeated, barely functioning. “Where did his soul go?”
“Since the contract was nullified, he must’ve been sent down to Earth.”
Earth? No, that couldn’t be. The passage from The Abyss to Earth couldn’t be that simple; there must be something else. His soul must still be trapped down here somewhere.
“Where’s the passage to Earth?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit!”
“I’m serious!” Venn was practically shaking. “No one knows.”
No, he wasn’t buying that; someone had to know.
“Where the fuck is Zea?”
No one had an answer for him. It didn’t matter; he’d get back to Zea later. Right now, he had to find out where Aiden was, and his best help wasn’t in the room. Without another word, he flew out the door.
Otteyo had remained where Nathaniel had last left him, eye bleeding blind, wrist slashed open. It seemed he’d been taking care of that, however; his uninjured hand fiddled with the cut, stuffing the corpses back inside. Upon closer inspection, it was evident that the cut had slowly begun to mend. He dropped everything the moment Nathaniel arrived, popped eye turned in his direction. A wave of emotion hit Nathaniel then, strong, pushing him down to his knees, pants scraping the dirt.
“Aiden…” he began, but couldn’t find the strength to finish. “I need to find him. Zea ripped the ticket and he disappeared; I need to know where he went. Where’s the passage of souls? I know where the entrance is, but where’s the exit?”
Otteyo’s free hand closed around his busted wrist and squeezed it. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. You can’t see him again.
“Why not?” A flame suddenly burst within his chest, eyebrows drawn into a scowl.
The passage is unreachable by flesh. Only souls can see it, touch it. You’ll never make it.
“Tell me how I can make it. Tell me how to see him again.”
Nathaniel… Your soul… He’s the light in you, isn’t he? You shine when you speak about him. He’s the sunrise.
“Otteyo, please.”
Otteyo’s eye bled, or were those tears? Your physical form binds you to this realm. You will never see him alive.
His stomach churned. “Do you mean…?”
Die a heroic death. Die fighting for what you believe in. Die on the battlefield.
Of course.
Angels that fall are still angels. Angels that fall still deserve a second chance.
This was it; they’d meet on Earth. He jumped up to his feet, pulse rushing through his neck. “Otteyo…” There were no words for the gratitude he felt, so he showed it instead. One hand grabbed Otteyo’s eye, palm pressed firmly to the wound. He prayed out loud. It burned; Otteyo’s scream cut through the barn. His flesh sizzled. When Nathaniel pulled away, they were both perfectly fine, no scars, no wounds. In fact, Otteyo’s vision was back, eyeball fully healed.
Why?
The question was completely ignored as Nathaniel turned around to leave.
I love you.
Nathaniel flew out of the barn.
The world was silent, disturbed only by a distant ringing. His hands were numb, detached from the rest of his body. He watched himself from six feet up in the air, flying across The Abyss, landing into the military base. It was quiet, yet far too loud; he couldn’t hear anything.
His hand closed around a spear. Suddenly, he turned around. The demon on the wall shouted at him, but none of it made sense. He watched himself throw the spear and pierce the soldier through the chest, a craft he’d mastered throughout the years. The soldier fell over the wall. Without a single thought running through his head, Nathaniel grabbed another spear and took flight.
The ashen beach, once so hopeless and desolate, had become his salvation. He bolted straight into the ocean, zipping through the water. His wings closed around his body like a spearhead, cutting through the current with ease. Since they didn’t have feathers, they didn’t become waterlogged; the moment Nathaniel broke the surface, they opened into flight. The battlefield wasn’t too far up—he could hear the sounds of war, the clashing of metal and the painful screams. It slowly brought him back to himself.
Demons were the first warriors he saw, fighting the angels in a cacophony of clashing metal and organized chaos. He speared the demons immediately in his way, making them fall to clear out a path. His body moved on its own, dodging at the right time, stabbing where it hurt. Soon enough, he came face to face with the head of the archangels, Blaz himself. Their eyes locked right away. The fire that rose within his chest burned him up completely. Without a word, they charged each other.
A long time ago, Blaz had taught angels how to fight, turning them into soldiers. He’d introduced Nathaniel to the ways of war, but hadn’t taught him everything he knew, evidenced by their encounter in the bathroom. Blaz had made a fool out of him; he wouldn’t let that happen a second time around.
While Blaz was good, Nathaniel was angrier. Blaz made him bleed, but his body was too numb to feel it. At this point, he wasn’t himself, fighting with an abyssal drive that was far too ugly for beings of light. He burned to the very core, and Blaz soon fell to the boiling wrath that ran in his veins. His spear pierced Blaz through the heart. Staring at the agony on his face, Nathaniel twisted the spear before letting him fall. He watched the darkness swallow Blaz’s corpse perfectly present.
The angels that fought alongside their leader all saw him go down, taking a moment to recognize who had killed him. Surprise widened their eyes only for a second. Finishing off the demon directly in front of him, Julian flew right over to Nathaniel, spear in hand, betrayal on the crease between his eyebrows. He was far from Paradise’s best fighter, but Nathaniel felt no inclination to stop him from doing what was right. When Julian approached, his chest filled with compassion.
“You’re sick,” Julian shouted. If Nathaniel wished to kill him, he would’ve done it already. “This is for Dave.” Julian plunged a spear straight into his heart. It was shockingly cold. A moment later, Nathaniel fell into the dark.
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