Shadow of the Abyss

"That's what… the firstborn?" Lord Beelzebub said. Shifting his attention back to the board.  "I never bothered to pay attention to your rise."

"My second. Izalith is the first." He corrected him, painfully glaring at the chessboard, to his impossible situation. " I hate the game of chess."

"That's because you suck at it."

Arsene did not deny it. "Hells. I seriously can't win"," he said, tasting his defeat at his boxed king. He forfeited tipping his King over for the seventh time this month. He sighed wearily. "Well?

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How much longer are you going to stay?"

"How long has it been since you ruled over Irkalla?" Beelzebub inquired, knowing the answer at heart. "This once barren field of hell, wrestling with debt so great it was crippling, now existing as one of the riches hells."

Arsene did not express emotion. "What is your point?" he said firmly. "You know the deal I house with the Abyss."

"It's a monopoly," Beelzebub replied.

"And?" Arsene smiled. " Are you expecting me to deny it? That much was obvious. I don't believe there is any law against it."

"There is discontent." He said darkly. "Many claim you are abusing your wife's power."

"And who might I ask said that? Belphegor, Abbadon, or was it perhaps that little bitch Belial?" Arsene spat, in his eyes a seething abyss of vile contempt. "I've offered them my business."

"You've offered them bits to nibble upon as though they were pigs," Beelzebub pointed out, resetting the board.

"I've given them Arcadia."

"Arcadia was never yours to begin with despite you opening the pathway."

Arsene snorted, growing more agitated with each rebuttal. "And why the hell should I give two fucks what the other Monarchs of Hell do? Better yet, why do you care?"

"Devils and Demons are flocking to your Hell, housing Abyssal resources. And I've been asked to intercede." Beelzebub said. He reached for his bitter-sweet wine, taking a swig. "They want you to close your borders."

"Or what?" The Monarch of Darkness challenged, a feral bearing in his eyes, one Beelzubub could recall quite vividly when all Monrchs of Hell acknowledged him as a True Hell Lord. More blood spilled that day following the gale of omnipotence that nearly tore the Myriad Heavens apart. From Fallen to Seraphim, all stood frozen, petrified by the power he now governed.

"Your main body is still within Arcadia.' Beelzebub pointed out. "You're defenseless. And sealed, might I add."

"Far from it." Arsene laughed. "I've got the Abyss, the Order of Chaos, and so much more by my side. If they kill this clone of mine, they are the ones fucked once trading stops. Demons are already growing restless at the arrogance of the New Gods.

While the Devils can barely contain themselves when faced with the stupidity of these newer gods created by the Shadow Proclamation, not that I can blame them."

"Damn it, Arsene!" Beezubub rasped, slamming his fist over the chess board, sending the pieces flying. "Why are you being so difficult? War is already on the horizon within Arcadia. We can't—"

"Oh, cut the fucking theatrics." Arsene pressed. " Like I don't know that you're inciting war as we speak. You think I don't know about your flies are already spreading your Principalities, provoking a war among the great fractions. How many Forsaken Clans have you come in contact with yet?"

Beelzubub's livid expression turned to smiles as he roared with laughter. "Fine. Fine. But I'm not wrong."

"No… sadly, you're not." Arsene thought for a bit, tapping his fingers over the board. "Aynaet come to me."

The door to the atrium opened, carrying the enthralling scent of hate and loathing: Aynaet de Asmodeus stepped through the halls, graciously bowing towards her Lord and Master, Arsene. She carried long red hair trailing down her back like a waterfall of blood. Her eyes burned a delicious crimson that carried more charm than the finest jewel.

In contrast, her face seemed as though it were fashioned by the Gods of Beuty, made seductive by the Devils of Hell.

"Awe… I've heard the rumors." Beelzebub mused in awe, grinning with a notable sense of lust futtering behind her trail. One held in all that carried the blood of the First King, Asmodeus. "But they did you no justice, my dear. You are far prettier than I imagined. I welcome you, King of Irkalla."

Aynaet de Asmodeus greeted him with a nod and fell to a knee before her true Lord. "You called for me, Sire?"

"Yes… Yes… " Arsene said, admiring the grace with which his King moved. He'd chosen well. Aynaet had been a far better choice than his bastard son. "The other Lords are bitching. Tell me, what  can we give them to keep the peace?"

"What can they give us?" Came her reply, bearing the subtle accent of the Nine Hells, adding a temptation that brought a luscious smile to her Monarch's lips.

Arsene glanced questionly at Beelzubub." Well?"

"We can offer slaves, or slavers if you want, blacksmiths, and soldiers. That is what Irkalla needs as we speak. The Abyss might offer resources, but you lack manpower. Am I wrong?"

"Manpower we can get from the various hells as they enter our borders, Lord of Flies," Aynaet replied nonpluss.

Arsene smile only seemed to deepen as he took the time to explain Beelzebub's aim, as well as the other Lords. When he was done, Aynaet's expression burned with malice.

"I see… then Rather than Slaves. We want noblemen directly under the banner against my Lord."

"That is redicu—"

"In return.' Aynaet continued, cutting in. " We'll divide the various spices from the Abyss."

Beelzebub's mouth went tight. "Refined?" he asked, nearly tasting the sweet nectar that came with a grain of spices from the pits of the outer domain.

"Depends on the grade of nobles you can offer." Aynaet carefully said. She was no fool and cared little for knights or barons. She wanted real noble, ones with authority. Ones that could heighten her power.

The Lord of Flies cleared his throat, thinking it over. " I'll have to confer with my brothers."

"Oh, and tell them I want a favor regarding investigating something on Earth," Arsene added.

The Fallen lifted a brow. " Will you give details?"

"No," Arsene said. "it'll be an open favor.

Beelzebub rose, grinning away as he nodded. " Alright. I've just about done what I came here for. Arsene, Aynaet. Good seeing you." He said, taking his leave in a whisk of red light.

"Master…" Aynaet began confused. "You revealed far too much information. A favor involving Earth with lead them to Altair."

"That was the plan." Lord Snow said, grinning. "And I'm sure Beelzebub won't even bring it up to the other Lords. In fact… He'll probably have one of his lesser nobles check into any disturbances as of late. If he does interfere, more power to him. I'll have some interesting to watch."

Aynaet smiled when the realization struck her. " You want them to find Altair." she approached her master, slipping onto his lap, mounting her Lord with a luscious smile. "Are you sure he can survive the curious nature of the Lord of the Flies?"

The Monarch bore a bright grin as he waved his palm, conjuring a screen within the air above the table that reflected the image of a  young boy standing on a silvery lake. "I will help all I can, but if Altair is to help Tene survive, he'll need to journey into the abyss for answers. If he can't survive demons and Fallen, the Abyss will devour him."

His finger curled into a fist bearing the thought of his beloved death, powerless before the Abyss's rage.

"And who is going to stop me from devouring you,  my Lord?" Aynaet whispered beside his ear, sliding her finger down until she felt something begin to rise at her seductive touch.

"Damn it, woman… Tene said she was going to visit." Arsene groaned as he met the menacing eyes of God, who personified Hate. "She throws a fit if—"

Finding both her hands beneath her Master's robe, Aynaet licked her lips. " My Lord… Lilith has already tried to kill me more times than I can count. What does it matter if Tene wants my head? Let her have it." She slipped to her knee with a devious gleam in her eyes and gulped with anticipation. "How about this, my lord. How about I help out the Third Young Master?"

"Help him how?" Arsene asked as his loyal servant fished out his cock that loomed over her face swallowing her beneath its shadow. She seethed a hot breath of air, sending shivers of pleasure through her lords' bones.

"Altair will be entering his adolescence soon… And one of my Divinities is Sex… so…"

The Ashen Monarch gritted his teeth. "A Baptism of Lust? It won't work…  Iliana is giving him the Ninth Form, the Blade of Ethereal Madness."

"Hells!" Aynaet yelped with surprise. Unable to combat the horror within her heart. "Is it a Baptism of Madness you wish for? That will… That might break the boy. He's already unstable. Not even the Fallen Angels dare to challenge that form.

And most of them are already mad."

"I agree." Arsene nodded, sighing, when all of a sudden, his back jerked up. And his eyes snapped to the succubus, grinning deviously.

"Well… I wonder who will win out? Lust or Madness." Aynaet said, flushed with redness as she began her meal.