There was no day in the infernal depths of Hell. Night was all that had ever existed; night was all they had ever known.
Perhaps that had been the reason why they never saw it coming. Despite the warnings—despite the signs—death arrived all too silently.
The Dark Abyss tore open like a yawning maw, consuming blood and brimstone alike. The denizens fled in panic and fear, but the Abyss showed no mercy, rising like a tide of apocalypse to devour the Crimson Moon as well.
Perched atop the Golden Spire, Lucian bore witness to the scene of his home crumbling into the wretched darkness. He watched as the Void took the rubble and demons alike. It felt more a force of nature than the curse of the First Demon.
"We have to leave," his sister said.
Lucian turned, seeing a somber and melancholic look on her face. He released a heavy sigh, overcome by emotion, and shook his head.
"I can't," he replied. "He's not back yet."
Her brows trembled at the mention, and she turned her back to him.
"We can't stay here for long; our home is gone."
Home.
The word hung heavy in the air, drawing sorrow from the siblings.
"I—" He made to reply but found himself short of words. What could he even say?
Lucian recalled the night before, when his father had called him into his study. He had sat the young prince down and explained the situation to him.
"Son," he had begun, "the Hell Realm faces an unprecedented crisis. Some dark forces have awakened beneath the infernal layers of this realm, and even after my futile attempts at mending the seal, the darkness cannot be contained. Here, take this."
He proffered an amulet in the shape of a key to Lucian.
"It's something I found in the Abyss; I want you to have it."
Lucian stared at the key, and what it represented.
"You're going back?" he asked, though it wasn't so much a question as an accusation. "You could die."
His father stared at him in silence, then looked out the window.
"Perhaps," he replied. "But I can't not go. These are my people—they are mine to protect."
"And we are your family," Lucian argued, clenching his jaw.
"That's why I'm leaving the throne to you, Lucian."
Lucian was startled, looking up at his father.
"I know what you're thinking, but I believe in you, son. And in the fact that you'd protect our family no matter what. I believe that I'm leaving this realm in capable hands."
Lucian gripped the amulet tightly.
His sister walked away, dust and debris coming loose under the incessant shaking of the ground.
"We'll be packing our bags. Don't take too long."
He didn't answer, but the implications rooted him to the ground.
His father was coming back.
"Lucian."
Suddenly, another voice called out, and Lucian turned in surprise at his mother's sudden appearance. She leaned against the spire, arms crossed beneath her sizable bust, a frown adorning her demonically charming features.
"Mother," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to check on you; I was worried," she replied before looking at him. "Apparently, I was right to do so."
"But..." he hesitated. "We can't leave without him. He could be rushing here right now."
"Is that truly what you think?" his mother asked, frowning. "Look around you, Lucian, and tell me you believe the words you just said."
Lucian... couldn't.
The truth was, the entrance to the Abyss existed right on the periphery of the realm, and now the Darkness was consuming everything in its path like a high tide, drawing from the fringes and progressively moving inward.
Castle Hellfire stood right in the middle of the realm, and it was only a matter of time before it, too, disappeared into its lurid depths.
"Tristan... he visited me last," his mother said, voice heavy with sorrow. "Right before he went to the Abyss, he pulled me to the side and told me to use the Dimensional Gate to escape in case something went wrong."
His mother offered him a gentle smile. "Do you remember what he used to say about war?"
Lucian mirrored her wistful smile.
"That we should pick our battles wisely. And that losing a fight doesn't necessarily imply that you lost the war. As long as you don't lose everything dear to you, you can always come back."
"That's right, son," she beamed brightly. Her gaze then shifted to the eldritch mass of shadows, and infernal rage seemed to replace the shine of benevolence in her eyes. "Right now, we are at war."
Lucian did not refuse after that, walking beside his mother as they crossed the spacious chambers and ostentatiously decorated hallways. At last, they arrived at the arena where the Gate existed.
It wasn't the only Gate in the Hell Realm, and if their message had been delivered properly, then demons must be fleeing Hell in unceasing tides. He could only hope that most of them would survive.
In the arena, his older and younger sisters awaited.
"We have finished packing everything we need," Nyra offered before he could ask.
"And I think it's about time we depart as well," Alana added.
Lucian took a deep breath, the air thick with Demonic Mana. This would be the first time in his short life of twenty-eight years that he would be leaving his home. He felt weirdly nostalgic—and awfully disappointed.
He felt as if he had failed his father.
You'd protect our family no matter what, his father's words rang out in his head.
He opened his eyes, firm with resolve, and looked ahead. The glowing portal churned with mystical energies, captivating and dangerous all at once.
He knew that once he took a step through there, he might never return.
But—
"Let's go," he voiced in a firm, hard tone.
—he had a family to protect, after all.
Hell had not known the night—only the fire and the shadows it cast.
Now, it knew only darkness.