I Hate Them

"Surprised that it talks, aren't you?" the ginger man said, turning back to face me. "It's a strange thing, like some sort of automated demon from hell."

He was right. The man in the chair seemed to watch us as he waited for us to interact with him further.

"I didn't introduce myself, by the way. I am Forsane." The ginger man walked over to me and shook my hand. "And these are the others that landed on the island with me. We are a group."

The woman with glasses who had touched my wings before pointed to her chest.

"I'm Lanelle. And this is my sister, Anabelle." She gestured towards the other girl in the room who seemed shy. She had brown hair as well, but it was much longer, and she was quite a bit shorter. I noticed that she had a flame symbol on her wrist like her sister.

The girl flashed me a nervous smile, and I nodded in acknowledgment.

The last man stepped forward next, and he was the most physically imposing. At least six feet tall and lean with muscle. He was dark-skinned with hair braided into four large cornrows. He also had a large beard and seemed overly hairy.

"Dominil. The muscle of the group!" he joked, but I didn't care for the humor. I looked at his wrist and saw what looked like the face of a wolf.

Overall, there seemed to be nothing wrong with the group, but I was more focused on the man in the chair.

"I'm Rade," I said, nodding towards the shrivelled form. "Let me hear what else he has to say."

Forsane, the ginger, nodded at me before turning back to the centre of the room.

"No problem," he said, strolling back towards the chair. As he stood in front of it, he spoke again.

"What is the Forsaken Ritual?" he asked the old man, and the question triggered a response.

"The Forsaken Ritual is not only a test of worth, but also helps our Lord weed out the weak and decide who will be granted access to the second layer of hell."

I wanted to ask who his Lord was, but the old man continued speaking, and I didn't want to cut him off.

"On the central island, you will find an altar that holds the catalyst of a heartstone, which will grant you access to the second layer of hell. There will be a large circle etched into the ground surrounding the altar, and once five souls have stepped inside, the heartstone will start naturally constructing itself. However, in doing so, you will trigger a Ritual, which will attract all different types of demons that reside on the first level of hell to your location. They will attack you relentlessly until the heartstones construction has been completed, and if you all manage to survive until then, then you will earn your ticket to the further depths. Use your curses well, or become prey."

Hearing the details of the ritual filled me with a deep, simmering anger. It wasn't just the sickening nature of the act itself that enraged me, though that alone was enough to churn my stomach—it was the way the ancient man described it, as if it were nothing more than a casual pass time.

"So this is some sort of sick, twisted game?" I asked, venom in my voice, but the man didn't answer. He seemed to ignore criticism.

Forsane approached me cautiously, his gaze fixed on my wings, which had begun to curl around me—a telltale sign of the anger that I struggled to hide. As he drew closer, a sudden surge of emotion caused my wings to snap open with a sharply.

The powerful flap sent a gust of air rippling through the room, forcing everyone to instinctively step back, their fear strong.

Dominil, the large man, looked on edge, as though he was ready to attack me, and the two girls huddled close to each other, keeping their distance.

Forsane just held out his hands, trying to calm me down as though I were some sort of wild animal that needed taming.

"Calm down, Rade. Trust me, we were angry too when we heard about the game, but what can you expect from a hell that sends demons to hunt the innocent inhabitants of Vorth? We have to stick together and pass this trial if we hope to have any chance at stopping the ruler of the underworld."

I didn't like to admit it, but his attempt at calming me down had worked. I could see why the others liked to follow him, but that didn't mean I wanted to.

Plus, he was right. If I wanted to escape from hell and wage war on King Vinel, and whoever else I felt needed to be brought to justice, then my first goal was to conquer hell. I had to go along with the foul ritual.

"I'm calm," I said as my body released it's tension, and I noticed the others relax around me. "Does the man say anything else?"

Forsane flashed me a smile, pleased with his success at de-escalating the situation, and turned to the man on the chair.

"When will the ritual start?" he asked, and the shriveled man's mouth opened once again.

"Whenever you're ready. The central island can hold as many groups at a time as it wants, however, you will all be in separate realms, unable to see or interact with the others, only those that are on your island with you."

The rules made sense, and I felt like there was nothing we could do but head over and tackle the ritual. However, I first needed to make something clear to the group.

"I know that we all wear the same clothes and come from the same place, but without trying to sound pretentious, I am much different from you all."

Forsane, Dominil, Lanelle, and Anabelle all stood and watched as I spoke, confused at the point I was trying to make.

I turned my head to look at my back with my one good eye and tested the point of my horns with my fingers. The feeling of having the black wings was surreal, but I had been cursed with the horns from the day I was born.

"I am fine with us working as a team, but I will not be ordered around. It's nothing against any of you; it's simply the way I work. If there's a problem with that, then I'll fight by myself during the ritual. I'm sure I can more than handle it."

The confidence was partly false. Despite having been granted an increase in the length of my horns and wings, there wasn't much I could actually do in a battle.

The four of them kept their eyes on me for a moment as though contemplating something, before Forsane conceded and gave me a nod.

"I understand. You were one of those forced to come here, right. The Taken? Not only that, but I have heard them call you Demonborn. Your life has been much different from ours, so your decision makes sense. None of us needs to lead the others; we can just work as a team."

I nodded in acknowledgement, though it ultimately didn't matter whether or not he understood. My words left no room for question. I would not be ordered around.

Then, Forsane walked towards me, showing me the brand of the dagger etched on the back of his wrist.

"But do remember, Rade, you are not the only one with a curse anymore. You are not alone, and it's not a crime to rely on others. Some people may be more powerful than you, and you should feel no shame in turning to them for help."

I looked at the man, and though he seemed to be trying to be friendly, his words were wrong. There was a vast difference between earning a curse and being born with one.

But he was right about something. Everyone who had made it to this layer had become cursed, and I knew nothing about the powers that they might have.

I will need to stay on guard at all times and figure out how to strengthen my powers. I need to remain a step ahead of the others. My goals demand it.

"Well then," Forsane said. "There's not much point in waiting, and we can't make a plan if we don't know what we're up against. Let's make our way over to the bridge and think about tackling this ritual."