Forgotten Friends From The Fires

"I will be back soon. I have to find my brother's soul."

The words left my lips with the weight of a promise I couldn't be sure I'd keep. My children clung to my legs, their small hands gripping tight, as if they could anchor me here. Their faces were scrunched in confusion, fear etched into their wide eyes. They didn’t understand—not fully—but how could they? I knelt before them, pressing my palms gently to their cheeks, committing their warmth, their innocence to memory. Their eyes were their mother’s—soft and pleading.

“I’ll see you again.” I whispered, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.

Behind me, I take a step back, the gates of Heaven stood open, a pristine glow spilling through their arches. The clouds were impossibly polished, their light both blinding and inviting. I had earned my place here, fought and bled for it, but what was peace when it came at the cost of my brother’s soul?

A brother’s duty is never finished.

I turned my back on the gates and stepped forward—out of paradise, I had my pass back. The clouds cracked beneath my feet, a brittle porcelain surface that splintered and gave way to the grave-ways below. I plunged, past the dull, cotton-ghostly moons and into the churning dark, the faint strains of a violin mocking me as I fell. The Devil's tune twisted through the air, its melody sharp and accusatory.

“I owe you?” I spat at the unseen musician. “You don’t get to claim this as your victory, face the victor in me.”

The drop ended abruptly. My feet struck a hot stone, and the world of Hell sprawled out before me. The tongue blistered and the air reeked of sour-sulphur, the sky burned an unholy red. The plains stretched on, littered with pyramids that clawed toward the heavens, we are always trying to reach further, this can be our downfall, well I'm heading back. Their surfaces shimmered with molten rivers, and grotesque veins of fire fed into their bloated structures. These obelisks were alive in some horrific way, their glowing walls pulsing as they consumed the souls trapped within.

My brother’s soul was in one of them.

The ground hissed as I walked, molten waves carving new paths through the scorched earth. Shadows moved in the distance—figures draped in darkness, their twisted forms hunched and predatory; they prey on me as I pray for them. As they drew closer, I recognized them: faces from my past, people who had betrayed me, abandoned me when I needed them most, forgetful friends. Their bodies were cloaked in their own blackened skin, peeled and burned from the inside out. They floated just above the ground, their legs gone, replaced by writhing smoke, you all must stay here.

“Wanderers.” I muttered, gripping the hilt of my sword.

They screeched my name, their voices mummy-wrapped and warped: “Piiictt!”

Their sound alone was enough to send shivers through my Goosebumps, but I stood firm, pile them on the wood burn. “You made your choices.” I growl back at their howls. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

They swarmed toward me, their clawed unshook-hands reaching, now tearing at my skin. I struck out, the blade of my sword cutting through their ghostly forms; you’re not match to the fury of this petroleum. They dissolved into ash with each swing I bring, but more rose to take their place, they race and climb over one another to take the lead.

My mind flashed to my brother. His anger had become my own, a spear from my heart for each of you, searing a heat that coursed through me. His soul was fractured, lost somewhere within one of these Hell-spires, and the thought of his torment drove me forward, remembering ‘return back’ is my foreword.

The biggest pyramid loomed ahead, a towering monstrosity that pulsed with a sickening stationary-redding light. Blood spilled from its peak, flowing into the molten rivers below. This was no temple; it was a grotesque feeding machine, consuming the souls of the damned to sustain itself.

I pressed onward, carving through the Wanderers that dared to block my path. Each step brought me closer to the pyramid, closer to the heart of this nightmare. The weight of the place bore down on me, the air thick with heat and despair.

Finally, I stood before its massive entrance, the heat radiating from its walls singeing my skin. My brother’s soul was inside, trapped and consumed by this monstrous structure. But I would not let this place win.

Raising my sword, I slammed its point into the ground. “If you won’t release him...” I shouted to the pyramid straight from the bellows of my voice box. “Then I’ll bring this whole place down!”

The ground trembled beneath me, cracks spreading outward like spider webs, jump to not be caught. The obelisks groaned, its walls shuddering as the veins of fire feeding it began to collapse. The Wanderers shrieked, their forms dissolving as the ground crumbled beneath them.

The entire structure began to implode, its fiery arteries bursting, its bloated walls collapsing inward. I felt the heat rise around me, the air churning with ash and fire, consume me.

And then, silence.

When I opened my eyes, I was kneeling on the scorched ground, my sword still clutched in my hand, my face caked in my enemy's end. The peaking-prison was gone, reduced to a smouldering ruin.

A faint light flickered in the ashes, the sparks of dying past? I reached for it, my fingers trembling. My brother’s soul, small and fragile, floated toward me. I cradled it in my hands, relief washing over me like a cool breeze, I found you, brother.

“It’s time to go home.” I whispered to him, sleeping in energy.

But the journey was far from over, I still needed to get-up and fed the kids their breakfast.

--

(The story written creatively)

I will be back soon, I have to go find my brother's soul." When I die I will halt at the over-polished cloud gates, beyond a squinting sunlight, a perfect-pristine gaze, I made it to the end, you can see it on my face; take back my pass which grants me access to the kingdom of deafening resters and step from cushion to crushing-blows; I must give up my time in heaven to go retrieve my brothers-undered-un-uttered soul. I will see my kids soon, there's just so much to do; past the cracks in the clouds and dull lit moons then a swift drop, can you hear the fiddle of the devil's tune, calling you? I owe you? You don't get to garner this flaming limelight! I took a few beatings for you; I linked up with your cuffs, a brother’s duty, is this enough?

My children clung to my legs, their faces scrunched in confusion. They didn’t understand, not fully, but I couldn’t let them. I knelt and pressed my hands to their cheeks, memorizing their warmth, their innocence, the way their eyes looked like their mother’s. “I’ll see you again.” I whisper, even as I felt the weight of the lie.

Sealed within seventeen inch thick bricks beneath a cryptic kiss, on my kids, I will walk the deadly plains of the wandering canary sanding pyramids. My brother died and his anger possessed my body, welcome to the other side, where we swim in lava and get soggy, depending on your drip, if I drop by, my anger is now his perfect copy, that monster in you, I want you to set it on me. The Devils amusement, Goosebumps give you greatest improvement, a skinnable nuisance, a switch in nuance, in your crypt lay roses and tulips, a few cups of your pollution to pollinate an abolished-mosh-pit of mating floating coffin, If you ever find yourself in the molten place, follow my words, step in my past footprints, a war-torn state. Alt Clut, Pict.

"You can always breathe in the water, if the air is getting too much for you." Whisked whis whispers wishes.

The wanderers loiter and litter the desert of desserting friends, people of my olden past, they wear their own skins as blackening cloak, through betrayal they harvest their own flesh, they did it themselves. They sleep in the deep-deeps of recesses reach of the pyramids creeps. Whale sized veins come-up from under the dusty firing plain, feeding into the obelisk's fattening structure, feeding theirs inmates previous killed inmates, straws of blood shoot to the sky, more trample from their temples, this tempers my brothers soul, the temperature is trekking in Hell.

Skill and focus are eye-driven, I will carve into history, striking my sword bare, point it in their direction, I shoot each shot myself, frame up and snip and cut through their reels. unreal, I must get back soon. They screech and scream my... "Piiiiiictt!"