In the depths of Acheron, the broken keep of Prince Belial stretched up to the sky of stone. A pale luminescence poured over its riven battlements. The city surrounding Belial's castle held eerily silent, the occupants hidden inside their dwellings. One dweller of this dark world peered from a black niche in which he tucked his putrid sattva. A pair of depthless dark orbs, a pin of white light in each, carefully watched the castle.

    Moments ago, the Baron of Acheron, Morgentus, had stood on the roof of a church on the planet of Earth in Samsara, battling against a duta who tried to preserve their asuri, and steal her back from him. Now, he persisted there, hoping for the death of his ruler. His failure to bring the red female back to Acheron was the final strike against him. A snarl curled his pale lips. If Belial faded, Morgentus was safe from his wrath. The baron's fingers flexed where they gripped the opposite arm. With the prince's death, however, he would be at the mercy of the other rulers of Jahannam. There would be a war to control Acheron, and he would need to guess which of the remaining princes was likely to win, if he wished continue as Baron.

    Scuffing footsteps drew the baron's attention to the gate of the city. His errand boy, Segrius, sniffed the air searching for him. His faceless head pointed in his master's direction. Morgentus stepped from his hiding place, stuffing down the hunger that made his eyes black. The ebony faded to icy blue and he stared hard at the serpent. Segrius licked his lips with his long tongue and nodded. The area was clear of danger.

    The baron swept past him toward the castle. His great, black leather wings spread. In a swirl of black, Morgentus disappeared from view. The smoking dust gathered inside the castle, in the highest tower. The weak luminescence that provided light for their world poured in through a crack in the roof. The rays were focused over a marble altar on which lay the remains of the stricken prince. Morgentus hesitated. Belial appeared to be asleep, but he was merely in a deep trance attempting to gather his strength and knit his wounds. The sacerdos he had taken possession of was chained to the marble, his atman flickering on the edge of Oblivion.

    "Morgentus," his name was spoken on an echoing wind that disappeared into the corridors, sweeping the dust of The Conflict with it.

    Morgentus moved forward, stepping carefully around the brittle human. Belial should have hidden deeper in his hold if he meant to heal with only one soul to feed upon. Had this been his fate, Morgentus would have sought the deepest recesses of his labyrinth in which to hide, far underground and beyond every nightmare Jahannam had to offer. A smirk twisted the corner of his mouth. In the open of Acheron was no place for a wounded sattva to find refuge, especially one with so flawed an atman. The weak form would attract bottom feeders from every territory, hoping to steal his crown and his power, but worse, conniving princes dreamt of expanding their colonies or winning a province of their own.

    Morgentus stood over the remains. Hunger pressed in on him again. He beat it back. Under his guard, Belial was assured no prince would strike while he was without his head attached.

    "You don't look so well, my prince," Morgentus said, watching the slow repair of blood vessels and tissue between the neck and head.

    The baron stepped around the altar. Black blood pooled under the corpse, soaking the fine robes and linen hair. Morgentus plucked the gold crown from the head. Spinning it in his hands, he studied the crudely forged gold. A shrug and laugh later, he unceremoniously set it back on Belial's forehead. Had the prince been in good health, such a disrespectful act would have seen Morgentus hammered in two by the one-time seraphim's malformed hands. So much for far reaching power. Thus, the prince needed his protections and power. Morgentus was at last useful to him, unlike every other danava in Jahannam.

    "Seethe, in your anguish, knowing that you can't even swat my brow for such insolence. I may be proud and bold, but I'm not one to be dismissed so easily, Highness. That would be a bitter mistake. I promised to deliver the red female to Acheron, and so it shall be done. The erela plans a life in the Samsara, fortuitous for our plan. She'll be weak, blind as a baby. The flesh will help to rot her atman. By the time I'm done, you'll see that I've won you ample revenge."

    A sound rippled through the corridors. Belial tried to speak, but the lack of a complete form made that nearly impossible. The breathy noise dissipated.

    "Waste not your energy, my prince. I'll keep you safe, though you wished my destruction."

    Morgentus knelt beside the corpse.

    "You must be starving," Morgentus crooned.

    The danava's eyes swept over the still features.

    "My first gift to you will be the humans that housed my red female, those apes who dare defy your rule. But, there is one I deny you. With much hope, I aim to gnaw the flesh of my atrin's pet. I'm certain you don't mind."

    The castle shuddered.

    Morgentus smiled. His eyes darkened, but for the fine point of light in them. He laughed to himself. The prince indeed minded, but there wasn't one thing he could do to stop his servant. Morgentus gave the dead shoulder an insolent pat as he regained his full height. Straightening his clothes, he stared down his nose at the once great ruler. How easily any of them could be laid so low, but yet they dare to question him, he who survived everything since The Conflict, he who faced arc and legionae to return to Jahannam unscathed. He who overcame a power's rule to rule himself. Flicking the fabric of his cuffs, a frown settled on his mouth. He could no longer stand the view of such a pitiable panorama. There was much to do in fulfilling his fate, things far better than viewing this grave.

    Morgentus took leave of the prince's highest chambers. Reappearing at the base of the castle, he walked the dusty tract to the gate. Segrius still waited. Morgentus signaled the soldier with a wave of his hand. They disappeared in a whirl of smoke. When he returned to sight, Morgentus was alone on the doorstep of his labyrinth. No hesitation tripped up his step. He rushed through the passage with the speed of a raven. The walls fell back, a smooth corridor that stretched forever into the horizon with a line of lanterns strung a man's length apart. The gold glow of the lamps sparkled in his pale eyes and his crown shone like polished jet.

    The passage ended on an octagonal courtyard. The floor was carved from red marble, with gold inlays forming a stepping labyrinth, and the seal and symbol of his rule at its center. The confusing lines circled around endlessly. He passed over them, sensing a presence that was not known to exist in his space. It had a distinctly Erebian atmosphere to it. He paused, drawing a deep breath to better catch the scent. A snarl curled his lip. Already the scavengers were out to pick the bones.

    "Prince Gediel," Morgentus rasped.

    The old prince hid at the eastern edge of the courtyard. His viridian robes hung to the floor, hands hidden in the wide sleeves and face beneath a deep cowl. Prince Gediel did not move. He remained as still as the death he resembled. Morgentus didn't have to ask why he had come. It was inevitable that the Erebian leader show himself. The prince's grandchild had maneuvered his great nose into the attempts of the erela's family to thwart her fall. He hated to be reminded of why his plan failed, and snarled before the words could be spoken. Morgentus ground his teeth, seeing that his disapproval had no effect. He was mere steps from his threshold and would be denied entrance to it yet again.

    "Have you come like the others to feed on our atrin's suffering?"

    "Belial is hale and permanent. Don't speak of the prince as your atrin, lest our soldiers think you've forgotten your place, Baron."

    Morgentus raised his chin defiantly.

    "I am danava," Morgentus growled.

    "Just barely," Prince Gediel drawled.

    The pair regarded one another in silence.

    "I've come to encourage you in your efforts with the red erela. I've much interest in your success, as I'm sure you're aware. To stop now would be far more dangerous than simply failing."

    Morgentus tucked his hands behind his back and forced a bright grin. He shook his head, utterly delighted with the endorsement, but not foolish enough to ignore the fact that this carried a price. Pacing closer to the prince, he tried to look upon the white face. Truth could not be hidden. The elder prince stared down at him from a pair of golden eyes that held no resemblance to those of the infuriating svargaduta he left behind. The young Gediel's were more silver, but Morgentus gathered that the paler aryika's skin was to blame for the brightness of his orbs. The prince bared his sharp teeth, annoyed at his time wasted in such a manner.

    "My grandson is to rule at my side. That will come to pass only if his mate falls into our hands. Can you promise me that is inevitable?" the elder prince asked.

    "I can," Morgentus said.

    "Be certain, Baron, or it won't be just Belial who hunts for your hide," the prince rumbled.

    Morgentus flexed his fists. Tempering his rage at the presumption of the old danava, Morgentus chuckled and boldly gave his back. The prince was threatening him, though he came there to beg for help. In all of their kingdoms, not one could he find to do his bidding. Without the baron of the labyrinth, he would wait an eternity to be reunited with his progeny. Morgentus rubbed his black-tipped fingers together. The prince's need provided a means to the danava's end.

    "I'm certain. Their own kind work very hard to assure this, though they think they defy my plans. I know the way to make this happen, but they're strong and cunning. With more forces, I'd have already delivered your grandson."

    The elder prince remained silent. What Morgentus said was true. Each of the grand princes might wish to deny it, but they each knew it was the truth. They spent far too much time mistrusting one another in the fear that they would not be heir to Jahannam in the end. Lucifer's bane was his longing to return to his king in Zion. To the princes at his feet, it showed a weakness. It showed that he would return one day and betray them all.

    Morgentus half-turned. His eyes reluctantly went to the elder prince's shadowed features. Prince Gediel would pay dearly for his desire, but in so doing, he would assure their success.

    "I promised Belial the atman of those who denied us the erela," Morgentus said. He paced the seal of his fortress. Coming to a stop, he sighed and continued, "We shall make our plans when this is done."

    "Touching one of them will end your bid for her hand. I forbid it," the elder prince warned.

    "Belial needs their energy and I won't deny my master," Morgentus said.

    "The master who sought to cast you into Oblivion? He'll heal, but if you heal him too quickly, he'll either chew your ashes or demote you to a mere soldier. Neither of us can afford either outcome."

    Morgentus raised an eyebrow. He was needed, for now, and that need offered him protection from revenge. The elder prince was right. Though the revenge would be sweet, the theft of atman would catalyze a series of events sure to end his campaign. Morgentus paced forward, flexing his fists. It was so difficult to align with any of the rulers, knowing that he could be discarded in a moment of frivolous passion.

    "My lord requires atman, Prince Gediel. Atman I'll bring him. I'm obliged by my desire for survival to assuage his hurts," Morgentus denied the request.

    "Assuage his hurts, or get revenge? A fine line you walk, Baron."

    The danavas fell into silence, weighing one another. Morgentus counted, turning his back and clasping his hands. He lowered his chin, as if contemplating giving in to the ruler's demands. So the prince knew of his atrin. What a prize Oriael would make for his commanders.

    "Four. Against my judgment, you may bring him four," the elder prince caved.

    Morgentus grinned to himself. That took no time at all. It was too easy to play to their desires and egos. In a few short turns of the sun, they would each have what they wanted. Morgentus spun around, his arms held wide, the bright smile on his face incompatible with such a gloomy place.

    "You won't regret it. Prince Belial will thank you for thinking of his safety," Morgentus said.

    "Be quick, Baron. They incarnate soon. You'll start with her husband when they do," the elder prince commanded.

    Morgentus held up a long black nail and said, "I already have."

    Morgentus laughed, suddenly disappearing from view in a whirl of black smoke. The shade reappeared at the gate of a church. He drew a deep breath and studied the damaged structure. Scaffolding leaned on the outer walls for workers to repair the windows. They left their tools and supplies scattered on the lawn. He scattered them further and by the will of his hate, set heat to them until they were puddles.

    "The sacerdos are praying inside," a voice hissed from behind.

    Morgentus glanced aside, not needing to turn to know Segrius was with him. The sound of the soldier and his troops was like a snake pit.

    "Capture four. Scatter the rest. A soldier to those left, so we may find them after. Where is my atrin's pet?"

    "Gone, my liege. They stole him away days ago."

    Morgentus frowned. The soldiers swept through the gate, slinking shadows in the night. They filed around him and he waited, bracing for the radiation of fear that would surge forth. The church doors burst open. A howling wind stirred discarded leaves and the lost pages of their sacred texts that had found their way to the lawn. Then, the screams came. Morgentus shut his eyes and tipped his head back to enjoy the strong flow of energy. The majority of the souls were mature and ripe. He held his hands to either side, bracing himself against the power. Their screams grew louder as some escaped the confines of their little house.

    Morgentus opened his eyes. The blackened orbs shone with scorn. Several of the humans escaped, running for their lives. The soldiers battled the guardians, tearing limbs and breaking wings. The numbers overwhelmed them easily. The panic was exquisite. Morgentus walked toward the melee. Joy bubbled into laughter. Drawing nearer the church, he perceived Segrius in the open doorway. He held the rags of robes in his long claws. Morgentus joined him, gleefully tripping up the steps.

    "Well done, Segrius," Morgentus said, laying a hand on the serpent's shoulder.

    Segrius bowed his strange head. Morgentus regretted his mistrust of him.

    Morgentus entered the sanctuary of the souls. The inside was once more gutted of seats. The rug torn from the gold marble floor lay in a shredded heap at the altar. Pages from the books fluttered across the bare stone, some still falling back from the vaulted ceiling. Any restoration made was undone, and in the center of the chapel sat four naked priests. Their hands were bound behind and to each other, creating a trap that would tighten if they struggled. Their knees had been drawn up tight to their chests, and rags stuffed in their mouths, secured with the beads they prayed over each night. For extra assurance, the feet and hands were nailed to the floor. A soldier finished hammering the last nail home while the rest backed away. Morgentus paced around the men, rubbing his hands together. Tears of anguish glistened on their papery cheeks.

    "I warned you not to defy me, sacerdos," Morgentus said.

    Their muffled pleas strained against the rags in their mouths. Morgentus caressed one's face. The tears stung his skin, but the pain contained in them was sustenance. His eyes flashed with the feeding.

    "Where are your guardians now?" Morgentus taunted.

    Several of Segrius's soldiers subdued the duta guardians and drew them away into shadows. In time their own kind would come for them, but for now they were out of the way. In the distance, the howling of imps bayed to the night. Morgentus chuckled. They were such easily slaughtered sheep, believing in their fantasies and the power of the light. Darkness would swallow everything and their flesh would be dust; their atman the supper of the real gods. Morgentus stepped away from them, almost pitying them for what he knew he would do.

    "Bring me their precious prince," Morgentus pointed to the crucifix.

    While he waited for the soldiers to draw the statue down from the apse, he made his way into the church sacristy. There he gathered four processional crosses, a small, round tabernacle and the monstrance. Returning to the altar, he set the monstrance in their view. The candles remaining in sconces and candelabras burst forth into flame. Morgentus ushered the soldier to place the crucifix in the center of the men. With some force, they pushed the leg through the floor and made it stand. The statue writhed, eyes rolling with horror as it bled. The men wept.

    "Do you still have faith for your Christ now, brothers? When he abandons you to his enemies?" Morgentus said, handing each staff to a soldier and honoring Segrius with the tabernacle. "He is a weak prince compared to those who refused to bow to your kind."

    The soldiers guarded each man. Morgentus begged their forgiveness while he gathered the items for their service. In the meantime, the soldiers without staffs continued the desecration of the church. They burned the seal of the hour into the marble floor, raking their hot fingertips over the surface with purpose. Their acrid drool sizzled as it dripped from their mouths.

    "Shall we begin, brothers?" Morgentus asked from behind the altar, dressed in the vestments of Mass.

    The soldiers drew down from the walls and focused their attention to their master.

    "Just nod and I'll be sure to ease your passing. If you refuse to answer my question, I'll make both you and he pay dearly," Morgentus instructed. After a pause, in which he allowed them to search their consciences, he asked, "Where has the one you call Gallo gone to?"

    The priest facing him stared defiantly despite the tears from his eyes. None of the four nodded to indicate they would answer.

    "Don't be obstinate, my friends. I don't wish to cause you any undue harm," Morgentus offered them another chance.

    The sacerdos quietly wept, refusing his request.

    "Very well, then, let us continue," Morgentus said darkly.

    From a gold case, the baron flung handfuls of the host into the nave. The pieces cut like glass, slicing the priests' skin, and embedding in their flesh. Morgentus mocked the rights of their ceremony, then growled a curse and flung the full chalice. Blood spilled from the cup. It clattered on the floor and dumped its thick contents in a puddle that mixed with the blood of the sacerdos. Morgentus laughed, as they struggled to call for help.

    Stepping from the altar dais, Morgentus crossed the hushed nave. The soldiers watched him move slowly toward their victims in ravenous anticipation. Making a shallow sign of the cross, he chuckled, then took the first staff in hand. Raising it above the head of the first priest, he asked once more where Gallo had gone, reminding the sacerdos that it was his last chance to save himself. When the man bent his head forward, Morgentus bellowed, thrusting the staff through the top of his skull and through his body so that it pinned him to the floor.

    "This suffering could be avoided," Morgentus said, moving east to the next man.

    Again, the lord of the labyrinth asked his question. Again, the sacerdos bowed his head and refused. Morgentus impaled him with the next staff and passed to the next. The last two, surprisingly, refused him in spite of the assurance he would kill them. He took the moment to study his work. His atrin would ache once he learned his friends had been murdered in such a profane manner. It filled him with joy to know Oriael would hear of his deeds, but he soured, knowing he couldn't make him witness to the suffering.

    Segrius held up the tabernacle. The foggy light of their atman drew lines from their mouths, cords snapping from their abdomens and foreheads. The glow swirled around the corpses until it found the tabernacle. The brightness dimmed once more and Segrius lowered the vessel. Four blue lights swam in the dark interior of the gold cylinder. The danava handed his master the tiny prison.

    "Belial will be most pleased," Morgentus said.

    Sirens sounded in the distance. One of the escaped priests must have reached help. Morgentus sneered at the open door. It would do them no good, he thought, tearing the vestments from his sattva. The robes gently fell into the blood of the chalice.

    "How many escaped us?"

    "Six, my liege," Segrius hissed.

    "Have your men pursue those who escaped. Don't touch them. Let them lead us to Gallo. I want him alive," Morgentus ordered.

    "It is done," Segrius bowed.

    "I return with my gift to Prince Belial. I suggest you join the others in Acheron. Their guardians will need watching," Morgentus said, walking toward the door.

    Near the exit, the Baron paused and clawed the air, forming the seal of Jahannam that opened the gate home. Flashing blue lights in the distance narrowed his gaze. Morgentus stepped through the portal, leaving the soldiers to their own devices and the humans to their shock. The shades poured out of the church like roaches, disappearing into the night over the hills and fields.