The trees hissed, their voices alien to Ramona's ears.
She stumbled over gnarled roots, her tattered shoes barely clinging to her feet. No sun pierced the heavy, crimson sky—it pressed down like a lid, sealing her in a realm that reeked of sulfur and malice. Her hands, stained with ash from her descent, twitched faintly. Yet her body felt no ache, no exhaustion, no cold. No hunger. No fear. No emotion at all.
"This isn't right," she muttered, her voice steady despite the void within her.
Her mind was a blank slate, as if something had stripped away panic, pain, even memory's edges. She scanned the twisted forest for a path, a sign—anything. But only blackened trunks and endless shadows stared back, their silence heavier than the air.
Am I in hell?
She wouldn't be surprised.
The Shadowfen Threshold was no mere forest. It was a cradle of demons, a realm within hell where devils were born, their essence woven into the soil and air. The darkness clung unnaturally, shadows slithering where light should have been. Her feet carried her deeper, drawn by an unseen force, as if her blood answered the pulse of this forbidden land.
She didn't know its name yet, but the devils did. The Shadowfen Threshold: a cursed domain where no human dared tread, where demons hunted and ruled. And now, impossibly, she walked its paths.
The trees arched like claws, their branches dripping with viscous, tar-like sap. The forest parted, revealing a vast, cavernous expanse below, its edges jagged as broken teeth.
The Abyss.
She hadn't noticed when she crossed the threshold, but the devils sensed her the moment she entered. Hundreds of red eyes flared in the dark, gleaming with confusion, then hunger.
A guttural growl rippled through the void. Then they came.
Grinning, crawling, laughing—dozens of them. Some had leathery wings, others bore twisted horns, a few were mere shadows with glowing eyes. Their teeth glinted as they circled her, predators savoring their prey.
But Ramona didn't flinch.
Her hands rose on instinct. The Tenebris—a darkness awakened within her—surged to life, a force as sharp and unshakable as her will. She moved like a phantom, a blur of motion. A strike here, a dodge there. The devils lunged, but she cut through them—not with blades, but with raw intent, her mind a weapon honed by Knowledge and tempered by this hellish realm.
They couldn't touch her.
The battle stretched on—hours, perhaps days, time meaningless in this eternal dark. When the ash settled, Ramona stood alone.
The devils knelt before her.
Not by her command.
Because they had no choice.
Her presence was law, her voice an unbreakable edict. One by one, they spoke—names, roles, powers—offering submission in a ritual that felt endless. Their voices grated, a cacophony of growls and whispers, each pledging loyalty to the woman who'd tamed their realm.
Ramona barely listened.
Her gaze fixed on one figure, apart from the rest. He hadn't charged when she arrived, hadn't knelt first. He simply watched, unmoving, his presence heavier than the others'.
Tall, with dark horns curving back like a crown, his amber eyes burned with a quiet intensity. His black cloak shimmered faintly, as if woven from the Abyss itself.
She approached.
He met her stare, calm, almost weary. "I knew I didn't stand a chance," he said, his voice low, resonant, carrying the weight of centuries.
Ramona narrowed her eyes. "I'm not here to fight. What do you want?"
"I want to join you," he replied. "To the Upperworld. If you allow it, I'll aid you in whatever trials you face."
She frowned. "How do you know I'm facing trials?"
His lips curved in a faint, knowing smile—not mocking, but as if he saw truths she hadn't yet grasped. "You bear the Tenebris. You fell into the Shadowfen Threshold, a place no mortal survives. Your path is no accident."
Ramona's jaw tightened. "Where am I, exactly? What is this place?"
The Devil's eyes flickered, as if weighing how much to reveal. "You stand in the Devil's Chamber, a realm carved from hell's deepest roots. Here, devils are born—spawned from the ash and sulfur of the Abyss, their essence bound to this cursed soil. The air you breathe is laced with their malice, and the trees pulse with their hunger. No mortal can linger here, for the Threshold devours their light. Yet you…" He tilted his head, studying her. "You wield its darkness. The Tenebris within you is no mere gift—it's a claim, forged in this cradle of demons."
She stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. The sulfurous air, the twisted trees, the unnatural dark—it all made sense now. This was no ordinary hell. It was a living, breathing forge of evil, and she had walked into its heart.
"What's in it for you?" she asked, her voice steady but sharp.
"Freedom," The devil speaks a word. "A chance to walk beyond this hell, where devils are born and bound. But I cannot say more—not yet. When the time comes, you'll understand."
Ramona studied him, wary. "I don't need cryptic promises. If you want to follow, get out from this place by your own strength and find me, then you'll earn my trust. Until then, stay out of my way."
He inclined his head, unperturbed. "Understood, Your highness. See you in upperworld."
A faint thread glimmered in the air, like a vein of light pulsing through the dark. It tugged at her, guiding her forward with an invisible will. A soft chant echoed, barely audible, like an incantation woven into the realm's fabric. Before her, a dimensional door materialized—its edges crackling with crimson energy, opening to a distant, unseen place.
Ramona stepped toward it, her heart steady, her mind alight with purpose. The Shadowfen Threshold, this cradle of devils, was no longer her prison.
It was her proving ground.