Epilogue

Fire and Ice:

Some view hell as a fiery pit, a place of eternal flames. Some view hell as a black pit, where victims stumble around blinded by their own vileness. Others don’t even believe in a hell, laughing at the mere notion of an eternity beyond life.

There is one place, who knows if it is truly hell or just one part of it, which is none of these things. It is a forest filled with the most horrific creatures imaginable. Twisted, spindly things that gnaw on flesh in the dark and flora that can devoure the very souls of men. It is a dark world ruled by a demon, by the queen of demons.

Zuggtmoy. The jawless and distorted human skull, the flame of the forest.

She is the very heart of this hell and everything here bends to her will. If she takes your soul, you become a part of this jungle, this immense web of chaos. Your soul blunders around in the darkness, in the fire, looking for a way out of her clutches. Your physical body, now conscious without a soul, is twisted and distorted. It is used to bring or to willingly accept upon itself, death.

The underdark twists down and down, gracefully into the very pit of hell. And this is where the jungle sits. Down, beneath the surface, upon the six hundredth and sixty sixth layer. In some ways it is the most beautiful hell, the tall trees and the bugs on the ceiling, lighting it up like stars. It is this beauty, or the illusion of it, that makes this hell more terrifying then all others.

Three souls twist and cry out for help, all bound by a single chain. The only one who hears their cries is the demon queen herself. Three souls were now entrapped. However, this no longer gave the demon any joy. She had failed. For three more lay out of reach. The screaming was a pleasure, at the very least.

The one who brought the souls was held in her dungeon. Probably cursing both the souls he brought and the demon herself. The marked one is gone, but what will become of him might be the most important piece of knowledge in this plane. The final soul, the final clue to this piece is presently in this hell. Not as a lost soul, but an avenging storm.

Wind, where there could be no wind, howled through the 666th layer of hell. Driving the stars from the sky and the monsters from beneath the trees. No such wind has ever been felt in the underdark and never will again.

Where there was just wind a moment ago, snow and ice begin to fall, killing everything in its path. The storm continued to rage and in that storm, demons and Tieflings alike could see shapes moving. Like an army of frozen warriors. An army of warriors led by a child, to redeem the lost souls from hell.

This hell is not only under attack. It is freezing over.

Epilogue

Age of Kings almarianknight