avoid the guards and hunters entirely - or so he hoped.
A condemned soul would stumble around in the darkness beyond the pavilion until it was snagged by one of those patrolling daemons and hauled through one of the gates into Ghenna, to the domain of whichever master the daemon served. There, the damned soul would have to face horrors unnumbered and untold, until the end of time or the fires of torment forged them into a new shape.
There were gaps in the gates easily large enough for souls to be dragged through, big enough even for daemons to step out from Ghenna - but they would not, not whilst the last of the Mercies stood, forever watchful, in his pavilion.
As the Jaishen Gate lifted, Mihn found it easy to climb the massive ivory bars. The biggest were easily twice as thick as his own body and bore his weight easily. When he reached the side he looked down and saw two massive, squat beasts standing below the gate, one end of a long iron bar strapped to their backs that lifted the bottom edge of the gate as they walked forward. From the way their heads swayed he guessed the beasts were blind - that was how they were able to face the light of the Mercy’s pavilion. They sniffed at the stinking air, snuffling their way towards the soul of Duchess Lomin, limping onwards to its eternal damnation. The beasts lunged at her, displaying rows of jagged teeth in huge mouths, but they could move no more than a foot before being stopped by the pivot mechanism they were harnessed to.
Excited howls emanated from deep within Jaishen as the gate began to close and darkness started to return. A pair of spindly figures quested out, advancing on the soul with hands covering their eyes. When they found her they ran exploratory hands all over the soul’s ghostly body before grasping it firmly and dragging it further within. Somewhere in the depths Mihn heard a heavy booming, a steady rhythm that prompted high-pitched squeals from the long dark tunnel below him. The horn sounded again and the beasts turned to pull the gate closed. It was only when the darkness had descended fully that Mihn heard the soul’s wailing renew.
Mihn clung tight to his perch, too focused on the task in hand to feel pity now. He had been studying the paintings of Elshaim, a necromancer-turned-prophet - the same painter whose works Malich Cordein himself had spent several years poring over - and it looked like he was right: the gate’s gigantic hinges did protrude, and as the gate closed, so a wide gap began to appear in between the ivory frame and the rock.
Mihn slipped quickly into the gap as it opened up before him. He felt a fleeting flush of relief as he reached towards the rock roof and found it jagged and uneven, providing plenty of hand-holds for him to pull himself inside. Moving carefully, he advanced inside the tunnel, and he was several yards from the gate when Jaishen ground shut once more. As it closed, a bone-numbing tremor rumbled through the rock.
Mihn braced himself on the unnatural honeycombed rock and rested for a moment, focusing all his strength into calming the fear now burning inside him. That great grinding closure hit him like the kick of a mule, driving the wind from his lungs, leaving him shaking and gasping for breath.
Mihn had made it to Ghenna, and here he was, all alone in the Dark Place. Not even the Gods could help him now.
CHAPTER 3
As he woke, Major Amber twitched his head, which was enough to send a spasm of pain racing down his neck. He whimpered, but a moment later panic overshadowed everything and wakefulness hit him like a deluge.
Cold fear enveloped his mind; all he could feel was searing agony, a rod of iron where his spine should be. Every other sense was numb. He tried to lift his arm and felt nothing, nothing at all. When he tried to open his eyes all he managed was a facial twitch, and another wrenching spasm. At last he edged them open, only to immediately close them against the searing light.
‘Hush now,’ said a woman’s voice beside him as Amber began to hyperventilate in terror, wincing at every gasp. ‘Hey, settle down - you’re injured, but you will recover.’
He felt a weight on his chest, a palm pressing down to hold him still, and he