I awoke with ash in my mouth.

  I coughed, clearing the foul-tasting dust from my mouth. It left its taste on my tongue, the urge to gag overwhelming as I got to my hooves. Hacking, I cleared what was left and looked up.

  Red.

  Such a stupid thought, but it was all I could think. Swirling reds painted the sky, strands of bck and grey and white snaking their way through the swirling mixture of varying red shades. It wasn’t just the sky, though, red swirling around me as I moved around, ash blending with sky as I tried to get my bearings. It was like being underwater, a terrifying experience in the Nover, considering the foul mixture of things that masqueraded as water in that river. This, though, this was familiar. The sensation on my skin wasn’t how I felt this, an entirely different set of senses as the warmth suffused me. The diabolism I’d poured into the circle surrounded me, tasting different than it did. I held up my fingers, letting it swirl around them, skin tingling as it caressed my fingers. Those marks from the night fighting Hawkins, they tingled the most. Not a good sign if I decided to try and reabsorb some of that. More changes like that maybe?

  Not something I wanted to risk, as I closed myself off from it. Not with this energy tasting good either. Just the simplest little taste felt too much like that night. A moment of triumph as I poured enough death and decay into Hawkins to overwhelm him, but something else. A taste of change, of metamorphosis. I thought. Taste wasn’t quite the right word.

  Neither was seeing, for these swirling reds that made up the night sky. Looking up, a half dozen points burned bright crimson that made my eyes water and forced my gaze back down.

  The homends have their charms, don’t they?

  I halted, a ragged breath drawing in. That had not been the Imp. I couldn’t pce that voice at all, several whispers blending together into a single voice

  I didn’t jump or allow any shock to show. Slow, deliberate movements as I turned around.

  Nothing behind me, but even as my eyes adjusted to seeing through these clouds of power, something could still hide within them.

  Solid creatures were moving around, but they were far away. In the distance, obscured, but I could still see them. Massive, giant creatures easily dwarfing me in size. Best to be a gnat for now, to stay out of sight and mind. I walked along, ash disturbed in my path as I made for the edge of this isnd. I could see it, a sudden ending to the solid ground. Worse, there wasn’t any water beyond it, just the sheer drop. And things much lower than me.

  “Imp?” I asked, striding through the ash.

  No response, and I shivered. It had not followed me. Or maybe it had, but no longer part of me. If this were the Hells, entirely possible.

  I paused, nearly at the edge, but something held me back from looking down. Not quite yet. Think Malvia. Not too much time for it, as the energy I’d poured in coiled about. It charged the air, I could feel the air thrumming as threads of diabolic power hummed and cracked, discharging into the open air. No pce for that power to go, and no signs of the trapped souls it was supposed to intimidate. Had they fled already? Or had they been eaten by a wandering devil if this was the Hells? Reduced to soulscrum, waiting to be reborn at the bottom.

  This could not be the Hells. Or at least not a part of it connected properly. Even if the boundaries of those pnes were infinite, an eternity of space and time, hiding a feast such as this would be an impossibility. Daver had never taught me much about the Hells themselves, besides a few glimpses dragged out of him in one of his worst trips into the bottle. The making of a succubus had been mostly the work of my partner in crime. The books I’d found on Diabolism away from the Fme had contained very little as well.

  Unsurprising. The Imperials did their best to destroy every bit of knowledge on the Hells they could find, but especially that. They didn’t want knowledge of reaching into the Hells to become common. And while the Devils were eager to teach them, only how to open a way to let them in here. Not too keen on letting people in the other way. The attempted Imperial invasion of the Hells had gone horribly, but I imagine it must have left some on this side shaken. Knowing that eventually the reverse of what they did might happen.

  If this was the Hells, there had to be boundaries, lest some devil come and tear into the gathered souls. Not that those gathered souls would be defenseless, seeing the rge forms moving in the distance. A mark against this being distinct from the Hells. Mortal souls who arrived here were typically the lowest of the low, fodder or food. Have the best parts sucked out and let the shell fall through the pnes, becoming something new in the process. Infernals might be a little better when we get here, depending on what we’ve done in our mortal lives. Inflicting the Hells on yourself tended to get you ahead some. One of the most whispered rumours after Her Infernal Majesty’s defeat had always been that her soul had escaped, come to the Hells and ascended among the nobility’s ranks.

  I had no idea if it was the truth. I just didn’t particurly want to get any closer to the edge of this isnd of solid ground. The swirling power didn’t have much push behind it, but all it would take is a small force at the right time to send me plummeting.

  Not like I had a choice. Going up might take me to a way out, but I couldn’t climb this. Couldn’t fly. I touched myself and…nothing. Focusing harder, I still couldn’t call on a Biosculptors ability to sense their own biology. Crafting wings already would have taken longer than I might have, but now they were definitely out as an option.

  Which left me looking past this isnd and hoping there was something further down that could help me.

  Stepping towards the edge now. Getting on my stomach, keeping as much of me contacting the piles of ash in some desperate hope to hold on. It would be foolish to try seeing below this.

  Fool that I was, I lowered my head to peer at what must be supporting us.

  Nothing, just a swirling mixture of grey and red dust whirling about underneath us, howling as it kept this ft pte of bck and red aloft. Swallowing, I pulled my head away, then, for good measure, moved a good ten feet from the edge.

  So, strange creatures below, at best, the trapped souls, at worst, devils. Ptforms of solid ground, well after the point a fall would break bones or even kill me on impact. Assuming I didn’t plummet in between them into that swirling maelstrom. Beautiful.

  Isn’t it?

  I whirled around, hand reaching for a gun that wasn’t there. A saber that I’d forgotten to buckle.

  “Who’s there?” I yelled. “If it’s a devil, let us bargain for a bit. You wish out of here, no?”

  Like I would ever bring a devil back to me, but best to get it talking instead of haunting the inside of my head. Or worse, sizing me up for a meal. Or a toy. Or something else.

  Anything went down here, as long as you had the power to enforce it. My brief glimpses had drilled that lesson right into my soul.

  “There’s little to gain in eating me,” I said to the empty air. “Poor sustenance for anyone.”

  Why must you always make smaller what could be greater?

  I chuckled mirthlessly. “I think compared to whatever you might be, I am quite small in comparison.”

  Maybe, maybe not, but I wasn’t going to be on it here. Best to py it safe and hope that engaging in talk would keep the creature distracted long enough to figure a way out.

  If you wish to talk, peer over the edge again, and perhaps you’ll see me.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’ve never encountered a mortal before, I take it?”

  Really, how foolish was it? Or how foolish did it think I was? One step.

  “I’ll admit, some mortals would fall for it.” Two steps now, taken confidently.

  “But if you’re willing to listen, you’re well-served not assuming all mortals are idiots.” Three steps, and I smiled, happy to have taken the right direction. Wait, why was I next to the edge-

  Stare with eyes/orbs/sights down into the swirling home, energy of the Hells whipped up the weak/frail Diabolist we/she/I had killed earlier. A swirling maelstrom, carrying the energy of the Hells down with the souls cast into this device and this pocket, taking them to where they would fuel the purpose. Filled with our own diabolism, cimed/conquered/taken in our name and ready to rip away the fragility/weakness that had cloaked I/he/we since birth.

  I wrenched my gaze away, gasping for air as I moved away, my head swirling as that chaotic perspective ran rampant in my mind. What, what had that been? I’d been that for a second, a perspective that I couldn’t even grasp now that I’d torn my gaze away.

  Run, mind and flesh-shell, the yered voice said, amusement sounded in a dozen different tongues. You’ve attracted something that puts both/all/we at risk.

  It was massive, growing fast as it tore through the sky at us. It nded, a dozen arms and legs sending hills of ash flying as it came to a halt. An infernal head the size of a house bearing a gash going between his eyes to his jaws, split open and bearing a second mouth filled with razor teeth, wriggling like fingers one second and sharp and unmoving as sharpened steel the next.

  A few hundred feet away, it considered me, dead eyes rotating in their sockets as they tried to focus on me. Its original mouth moved, blowing out winds out. Gusts carried ash by the ton as it flew towards me. I gritted my teeth, pushing forward as the winds attempted to carry me off the edge, while the spoken letters echoed past.

  “YOU DID THIS!”

  Shite, it thought I was Tyler, or maybe it meant the diabolism I’d put in attempting to intimidate the trapped souls. Definitely not what had happened. Curse that Imp.

  “Why is it like this?” I muttered, backing away, hands held up pcatingly till the back of my hoof almost went into the abyss. “Touching the circle, I could access the memories of their deaths, nothing like this. Nothing at all like this.”

  This is the Hells, the Devil lurking said to me, tone amused. Although I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised, you know so little, Shell. Soul and expression rule here, not the mortal-flesh-shell you puppet. Sense of soul, maniputed by thoughts, maniputed by ideas, knowingly or unknowingly. Which you started doing the moment you stepped foot in here.

  “As interesting as that is-”

  The trapped soul moved forward, and I ran to the side, hooves digging into ash as I ran the circumference. It was not the best idea, but the only one I had. Hope that its charge would be set, I could dive to the side or under it, and it would carry the soul off of this isnd.

  I made it twenty feet, the trapped soul keeping on target with me. Already futile when something else burst from the ashes, charging me. I tried to stop, only for the lunging feline form of mutited flesh to fade away. My confusion only sted a second until the real one burst free from the same spot, taking advantage of my confusion.

  It was translucent, phantasmal, and as it rammed into me, cws and teeth went inside me but didn’t pierce my flesh. It felt that way as it rammed me off the side, as I screamed and tried to grasp onto anything.

  Clever, the voice in my head observed as I plummeted, a second feline shape leaping off and joining the first in grasping me in cws and jaws made of sliced up flesh and broken bones. They know your weakness, that you have no knowledge of this pce. No sense of time or pce. They may be weak dross, but clearly stronger than you.

  I barely paid attention as we plummeted through the sky. Phantom teeth closed around me, piercing skin without cutting flesh, and I screamed as pain nced throughout my body. I reached out, trying to call on Hellfire again.

  Nothing, I’d drained myself too dry following the Imps’ suggestion, and now I couldn’t even pull on what little I could do well. No alchemy, attempts at biosculpting were returning nothing, no weapons, I had nothing. Just swirling diabolism that felt so different, I suspected taking it in would be a mistake.

  Running out of options, as we plummeted. I howled and kicked and scratched and attempted to fight, but every single one of my blows passed through them like they didn’t exist.

  Their blows back felt like they did exist, pain as each phantom strike passed through skin, and they kept their grip on me effortlessly.

  Hesitating to call on the power isn’t going to help you, the yered voices said in a mocking sing-song. Your soul will be devoured long before your paltry blows even bother these little scavengers.

  Correct, but that strange sensation of-my thought cut off as more phantasmal fangs sank into my leg, and with a scream, I put my hand into the not-there trapped soul, calling on the energy surrounding me.

  Power/self recimed floods in, touched by our/I’s home to better strip away the falsity. Eager to return, and I/we are eager to grasp, letting our/us/I/my hands be borrowed and put into the soul/spawn/insect trying to tear.

  Eternal fme blooms, called beyond time and space, from the fabric of home as it sears/burns/eats at phantom flesh, making the first withdraw, shrieking.

  I screamed as hellfire lit up inside the trapped soul, the burning of its not-there flesh matched by a burning sensation along my skin. A pattern, traveling up and down my body, lines that fre and fme as I pour hellfire inside the suddenly shrieking soul.

  It fled, and the second one still cwed, and I couldn’t stop the flooding of energy pushing inside me. I could see the dark tendrils spreading along my limbs from that note, more sprouting on my other arms and legs, patterns of tiny fish scales forcing their way to the surface as I grit my teeth, fangs poking through further, slicing my gums as I focused.

  The mind-shell was shedding, tearing open as it/they/she descended further. Shrieks merged with its own, pressing in and ying bare what y inside. This was not our home, but it was close enough, and progenitor-fme all around pressed in. Not a perfect match, no, never a perfect match. Instead, other things shed out from the lessers dragged in here, ncing the mind-shell as it drew inside. Cutting it open. Letting the truth/revetion/destiny out.

  I gasped, struggling as I fell. That…that was happening more. I shuddered as the other damned souls sliced at me in desperation. Not a line appeared on me, but pain cut through me all the same. I drew again, pulling on the swirling strands around me, and poured death into the creature. Needed to end this fast, before whatever caused this, even as the skin across my head split, my horns pushing further, other horns pushing out, scales traced their patterns around me, and the horns continued pushing out. Spines and spikes poked out of skin as I shrieked, tongue scraping along the inside of my mouth.

  I/we/she cackles as we/they force out way to the surface, finally more than a voice/whisper in the shell’s head.

  The scavenger/worm/dog fled, chased by eternal-fme bearing the touch of rot and decay. It wouldn’t truly harm it anymore than the bdes/teeth/cws of it could hurt me. My/our soul was made of sterner flesh/metal/bone than the mind-shell. But it did cause pain, and it would flee before that pain became inflicted by something that could tear at its soul. Pity/shame/annoyance, I could have devoured/absorbed/eaten both of them for succour and advancement.

  No we-I would not! I struggled against the foreign thing puppeting me, trying to stop it from moving my limbs. The wet sensation of blood as horns pushed further from my skull, and scales pushed out of skin. I would never partake, never, not after-

  The mind-shell’s struggles made a finger twitch/move for a second. Pathetic. I continued to plummet, not the frantic, scared mewlings and filing of the other, just a simple, elegant dive as I let the coming energy continue to fy the mask off of me.

  The flesh-shell sang as skin tore along their/my/our back, bones scraping as they pushed outwards, skin crawling along the emerging limbs, crawling up thin fingers. My/our/it's wings burst free, membrane flowing as I hurtled down, catching the wind as we approached another bubble.

  Somewhere, a small shred of the mind-shell worried about the fact that nothing waited down below. We ughed, cackling in three voices as Fara/Xang/Harrow. Other weaker ones joined in, and the mind-shell retreated as we tore more from it. A gesture tore into the soul, ripping at its outer yer. They’d formed a defense of trickery and pacificty, assuming the reluctance of the mind-shell to be our true feelings. We would tear at them for foolishness.

  Hellfire tore at it, scouring what was unneeded. It screamed, and the mind-shell screamed as the damned soul accepted dominance and formed into solid ground beneath us, waiting for arrival of royalty.

  Gasping through an unfamiliar throat as I tried to force my way to the surface. Curse the damnable Imp for ever suggesting this. The Hells was this-

  I nded, our form growing as we touched, cackling as I drew on the same diabolism the Mind-shell had poured in earlier. Mistake-no-mistake on my part as I drank greedily of what I’d denied myself, the truth of what I was. Form lengthened, spine cracked, flesh grew, tail roiled in the ash of the tormented soul as it grew near as long as the flesh-shell used to stand. We/They/She stood tall, stretching as vertebrats cracked and flesh changed at our whim. Its/He/I felt a sensation, not a touch, smell, sight, sound, or taste. Something different. A more powerful charge of what already tore through this. Home-unknown, never ventured too, but home all the same.

  Face tore, skin crawling as bone doubled then tripled, forming inside one another before forcing their way through. What was left of the mind-shell quailed, screamed about this not being the case. Its panicked cries echoed around our/its/my ribcage, deep within its prison. We drank them, reveling in my trapping of it. No more control. No more worries. It’s worst fear realized of letting itself live. Letting itself be free. Stretch as I tasted/hear/see true freedom for the first time in years/decades/all.

  Beautiful, as faces formed fnking my own, as flesh roiled at a thought. A thousand faces, none of them the original, all others. Now mine, cimed and taken, or would be taken. Faces I’d cimed, face I would cim, all at my control as I let them rotate. We had held back so long, but now we could break free. Tear free of the nd where our mind-shell thought it should live, where the flesh-shell y dormant. No one would miss either, and we could find freedom here. Worlds to conquer, pces to explore. A throne to forge out of the nd I should belong to. A throne for the Queen of Masks.

  Stretching now, whip/tendrils/tails rolling about the ash, blowing up a storm as another pair of lost souls emerged from their disguises/camoufge, trying to strike. A smile graced all three faces as they tried to surprise someone who knew far too much about masks.

  The first one had their death/passing too much in mind, formed into a headless corpse that sprayed blood that burned/ate/hissed as it came forward. The other was a little more clever, steel needles pushing through skin, forming a thousand legs that stabbed/pierced across the isnd. They rushed forward, one from each side.

  I/we flew, form changing as sword and whip emerge. Bone punches through flesh, sharpening and connecting with strands of tendon. The two lost souls move up, their souls still new to the Hells. Their movements off the ground were ugly/simplistic/awkward, as I dove between them.

  We danced, forms shifting, bde and sh met by phantoms' limbs and bursts of hellfire. I/me/she flew around darting steel needles and spurts of acidic blood, bde and sh cutting deep into both.

  Eventually, they both realized the superiority of I, and withdrew, and I was tempted to chase after, to devour and feast, but I held back. No, I shouldn’t do anything that might bring other lost souls or even other devils here in a feeding frenzy, so I waited, as storms of ash caressed my skin, sandpaper roughness a smooth embrace as I continued my diving descent.

  I/we/she could conquer here, tear these souls apart, and feast on their insides. Mighty in here, maybe not mighty outside after tearing/cutting the way to the proper home/paradise/domain, but a start.

  No, we needed to return now! Tarrying even a second-

  A flicker of thought and amusement to suppress the mind-shell. So worried, so frantic. Why did it not understand/grasp that there was no risk of Intelligence out here? No desperate need/want to make one’s self useful? No need for masks either, which may be why it panicked.

  No need for masks meant no need for it to be kept as I descended further into the Hells.

  Or I could force my way out, fly back to the top where I’d entered. The shell had been unable to force its way back inside, but we could. Tear it asunder and pour itself into the shell still waiting, hands swallowed by the gateway.

  To simply pretend to be the shell? Tearing open the mortal bones and flesh, emerging/changing/ascending to glory/right/desire might be too risky a move, but one we/I wanted all the same.

  Empress. That sounded like a title worthy of me/I/you to wear. Something to bear to our true home. Unworthy of being on its current bearer, it should be mine. So much denied by everyone/antagonist/insects. Including ones that shared our/my/their blood.

  Let our/my brother attempt to shred the paltry soul with his barbs and shes. Mattered not, when we would carve the life out of his body/chest/heart and suck his soul from his bones. Feast on his-burn/incinerate flesh, leaving not a trace of him on any pne. If a little sliver escaped, let it fall/topple/slip into the hands of whatever devil would take it and force him to their bidding. Even the mind-shell felt some measure of agreement/acceptance of that.

  The rest? Hrrm, what would I/we/she do with the rest of them?

  You will do nothing with them! Any of them! Except maybe Lord Montague.

  I/we/it rolled our eyes in irritation over that. The mind-shell’s struggles irritated me/we/he enough, flesh splitting as I tore open my chest, exposing its cage of bones within me. Pull it out, struggling/squirming and bite with teeth/fangs through its middle and absorb it back inside, quieter and deader than it already was.

  Onward and downward.

  Wings brought me to a more solid form of nd/isnd/permanence, closer to a bottom that also remained infinitely distant. The Mind-shell, useless thing it was, would have struggled/failed to grasp how time and space operated, and if I/we/it ever let it resurface, probably never would. Perched on the edge, I could see the end of this little pocket of the Hells.

  I chuckled/cackled/ughed as I saw the runes formed into a circle on the bottom, tasted the diabolism worked there wafting open. Souls drifted towards it, forming into a swirling maelstrom of souls grasped and gathered for its purpose.

  Trying to punch/cut/force a permanent gate onto the mortal pne? With this paltry amount of souls stored inside? Already, it strained/stretched trying to fulfill its purpose. It would draw every soul down to it, preparing them for work at its master's discretion. A mistake/misunderstanding/incomprehension thinking this was a summoning circle. Its focus was tighter than that, and that gave it power but also restricted what it could do. Not beyond my abilities/capabilities/understanding, far greater than the feeble mind-shell. But repurposing/changing/controlling it for our efforts would be simple once we’d fitted ourselves inside the bits of mortal flesh the shell tried and failed to be proud of.

  Something stirred, forming in the center, the maelstrom of lost souls coalescing, a swirling storm of agonized faces, phantasmal limbs, and whatever else the maddened collection pushed into existence with their will. The circle prepared from its master’s intent, something clearly pnned/schemed before we/I had proven superiority by killing him. Too bad the shell was too useless to have caught or devoured his/their essence before they had come here themselves. So much power slipped through its fingers because of its cowardice, its patheticness.

  The gestalt noticed me, but was slow to move. A hundred voices struggling for dominance meant it would take time to build up steam/willpower/motivation. Or not, as it surged/threw itself away from the runic circle, the symbols fring as just a shred of it remained trapped within, cord stretching to the mass.

  A security/defense measure? No matter.

  A new mask, vulpine and grinning, and reality flipped as they/it/our drew upon the powers of that antagonist turned gnat compared to our glory. Immediately, the ndscape mirrored, then mirror again, all versions rotating as I/we shrank to a gnat's size, a dozen duplicates partially illusion and partially self heading off in a dozen different directions.

  The wrong move, as the Gestalt ignored all, remaining fixed on me, even at the size of a fly. It had the scent of my soul, something harder for me/I to obfuscate, and it roared in a hundred tormented voices as it neared.

  I hissed, angry that I had to run. I should never have to run, not now!Time ill-spent, the edges of the storm of souls now catching up me. I/we moved, pulling away even as phantasmal hands and cws grew at the edge of the gestalt, snatching/grabbing as she/it weaved in between fingers. I darted ahead, letting the decoys/duplicates/clones/inferior me’s sh out with bursts of Hellfire, drawing the gestalt’s attention. Override/coerce/control their own minds, letting them distract the gestalt, pulled into and eaten as they cursed/screamed me for being cleverer than them.

  It bought time and space to build/conjure more illusions tinged with reality underneath, traps within mirrors, poison inside food. I’d underestimated the size of the soul gestalt, perhaps it was best to withdraw and think a-no, we/she/they were past that now! We were here to never have that again, to never let others-

  The gestalt smmed into my side and I shrieked as pain ripped along my body as phantom hands reached past the physical shell into the soul underneath. I pulled ahead barely, cracks forming as I dropped towards the runic circle, forming more illusions in my way.

  Too stupid to fool, the Gestalt smashed its way through a thousand mirrors and tricks. Poisoned bits of hellfire tore, rot decayed, hidden bdes formed from pure diabolism that sliced and cut. It cared not, unfeeling, trailing a dozen different wounds that barely bled it as it dove.

  Our/us/I/you dove, weaving among other souls still trapped in the circle. The shrieking thing tore its way through, the swallowing of the other souls barely slowing it. More illusions, more of me fleeing, shrinking, but it remained untricked. I weaved, but it never let go, never lost sight till one slip and trip-up, a stroke of my wings and mind taking me one direction a just a bit off as it collides, a hundred shrieking souls ramming into a tormentor, and crack the mask.

  Unreality made manifest. Lie after lie after yer on me to try and deny what I am, in the vain hope of success. As the gestalt of a thousand tortured souls smmed into me roaring, the form cracks again and again before shattering like porcein gss. I am thrown free, small and frail and useless, the Queen of Masks dissolving around me as the lies that make it real die their deaths. A pursuit of an escape so far from my understanding in the hope it would leave the old me unable to shine through. No more real than any other mask, no better crafted. All shatter, baring the truth of what is underneath.Chasing anathema to myself. Fool notion, to try and go so far in the opposite direction in the hope of breaking from the old. Is it not just repeating the pattern of masks? Always trying to cover up faults and failures?

  I open my eyes, simple mortal pair, suspended in the vortex of trapped souls, nothing but Malvia Harrow, Lily Xang, whichever name I’ve cimed to try and avoid the problems and issues of the st. An imperfect mask, closer than I’d come but still less than I’d hoped. Had some part of me hoped for this? Known on some level? Yet still a failure. I would need to try again, to become something even better than that failure. The mask has shattered, its queen gone, its throne deserted.

  Leaving me, and I am never enough. The hand closes around me, around something less than even truth as it sunders. But as it does, another pulse, another burst of familiar yet distinct energy, and as the life is squeezed out of me, I am also rising, shrieking, back towards home.

  Snap.