Once Haatim reached the other side of the portal, something shifted in the realm he'd come to. On his side of the portal, it had seemed as though he floated in the air in a black void, freely able to move around but a touch disoriented. On this side, however, everything was considerably more horrible.
The pervasive sense of otherworldliness intensified dramatically, and everything was wrong. Drowning—not in water but in heavy tar that weighed him down. The green ichor on the walls clung to him, trying to blot out his soul. He couldn't wipe it away, and it suffocated him.
Haatim could sense himself on both sides of the silver ring simultaneously. Only his essence had crossed over, and the link to his body in the real world had weakened. This world pulsed like a living creature, and wherever he'd come, it would prove reluctant to let him leave.
However, he couldn't worry about that right now. Arthur remained over here, trapped somewhere in this hellish dimension. But where? The realm stretched endlessly in all directions, filled with corridors of green ichor and the faint glow of trapped souls.
Haatim moved forward, trying to sense Arthur. Hundreds of souls dotted this place—maybe thousands—each one buried under layers of that sickening green ooze. Some had been here so long they barely registered anymore, just faint flickers of consciousness that had all but faded.
He reached the first cluster of trapped souls and searched desperately. Not Arthur. Not Arthur. Not—
A presence slammed into him from behind.
Haatim tumbled through the non-space, spinning wildly. A creature made of shadow and malice circled him, its form constantly shifting. A guardian. Of course Surgat would leave something to watch over his prisoners.
The thing lashed out with tendrils of darkness that burned where they touched. Haatim screamed—or tried to; no sound came out here—and focused his energy into a barrier. The creature recoiled, but only for a moment.
It came at him again, faster this time. Haatim dove to the side, his movements sluggish in this realm where nothing worked the way it should. The creature's tendrils caught his leg, and pain exploded through his consciousness.
He channeled harder, pushing the creature back with raw willpower. It cost him—he weakened already—but the thing retreated, circling warily.
Haatim didn't have time for this. He turned and fled deeper into the realm, the guardian shrieking behind him. Other souls blurred past as he searched for Arthur's signature.
There. A golden light, brighter than the others, but buried so deep under the ichor it barely registered. That had to be him.
The guardian caught up, slamming into Haatim again. This time, he was ready. He channeled everything he had into a burst of energy that sent the creature spiraling away, wounded but not destroyed.
It wouldn't stay gone for long.
Outside the portal, he could move with only a thought and cover any distance simply by willing it. In here, on the other hand, heavy weights might as well have been strapped to his ankles. Slogging through mud, each step harder than the last.
By the time he made it across to Arthur, the disgusting green ichor covered him. His body no longer remained tangible, yet the stuff still managed to stick and hold onto him. Where it touched, cold emptiness spread, as if it drained his life force. Similar to when Abigail had touched him, only much worse. The stuff had buried Arthur totally, and digging him out wouldn't give any fun.
A glance back showed that the silver ring had almost closed—and the guardian had recovered, racing toward them with murderous intent. That gave his only chance of escape; though, by now, it looked a million kilometers away. Neither time nor distance worked the same way here as they did outside, and so he had no idea how long it would take for the portal to close.
The guardian screamed, closing the distance.
He turned back to Arthur, steeling himself for what he would have to do. Then he reached down and scooped at the ichor with one hand while channeling a barrier against the approaching guardian with the other.
Sticking his hands into a bucket of liquid nitrogen. The pain almost blinded him. Not normal cold—rather than going numb, it only grew more intense.
The guardian hit his barrier. The impact nearly shattered his concentration. He gritted his teeth—did he even have teeth here?—and held on.
Within seconds, his mind screamed for him to stop, but he refused. He pushed down the pain and kept scooping, getting as much of the stuff off Arthur's soul as he could while the guardian hammered at his weakening barrier.
"Wake up." Haatim reached out and touched the identity of Arthur, which was less a humanoid spirit and more a golden blob, vaguely humanlike though disembodied. When he touched it, the blob quivered. "We don't have much time. You have to wake up."
Nothing happened. Arthur didn't budge, and the spiritual entity didn't change. Too weak. Too drained by the ichor and his time in this place.
The barrier cracked. The guardian's tendrils slipped through, burning against his essence.
Maybe nothing remained to wake. Arthur might have stayed here for too long, with nothing left of his humanity.
Haatim couldn't think like that, though. He had to believe that something remained, and that it would take only a small nudge to bring back the powerful man. One last time, he glanced back. Only a small ring of the portal showed. The guardian was nearly through his barrier. Mere moments made the difference between them escaping or getting trapped here for good.
Here, in Surgat's hell, where the Council had trapped him, and where spending an eternity wouldn't prove any fun. It sapped him, drained him, and ate away at his soul.
Haatim steeled his resolve, dropped the barrier completely, and then turned back to Arthur. Now or never.
"Come on! You need to get up. We need to get out of here."
The guardian lunged. Haatim pulled Arthur's soul in front of himself, not as a shield, but as a focus. He channeled everything through the golden orb, and Arthur's fading essence flared with sudden light.
The guardian recoiled, screaming. Arthur's soul—even weakened—carried power that hurt the creature. But it wouldn't last. Already the light faded.
He could sense understanding from Arthur, but also weakness. The man sat broken, barely conscious, and unable to focus on anything outside himself.
Haatim remembered when Abigail had touched him, and the energy she'd siphoned. Perhaps he could do something similar here, feeding Arthur to bring him back to consciousness.
He reached out and touched the golden globe of energy. Focused, he pushed essence out of himself and directed it into Arthur. Not much remained. After everything that had happened today, he now ran on empty.
The effect happened in an instant, and the globe shivered under Haatim's touch as the essence poured into it. Though it weakened him, the idea that it strengthened Arthur drove him forward.
The guardian circled, waiting for its moment. Haatim's protection was gone now—all his energy flowed into Arthur.
However, to wake the globe and give Arthur the strength to get out of here, he would need a lot more energy.
Maybe more than Haatim could give. If he failed, they would both get trapped here.
With the portal so near to closing, Haatim couldn't be certain whether he could escape now even if he fled this instant. The place had a hold on him, and he'd weakened. It would take everything in his power to get out. The thought of spending the rest of eternity trapped here terrified him.
"Last chance," he whispered.
The guardian lunged again. Haatim had nothing left to stop it.
But he couldn't go. Not without Arthur. If he abandoned him now, he would condemn the man to spending the rest of eternity trapped here. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.
With a final push, he turned back and bridged the connection to Arthur, feeding energy into the orb. His essence revitalized Arthur, and the man came back and reclaimed his identity. It happened slowly, though. Oh so slowly.
The guardian's tendrils wrapped around him. Pain beyond anything he'd ever experienced. His consciousness began to fragment.
The world closed in on Haatim. He remembered speaking to Father Paladina and how his gift wasn't endless. At a certain point, it switched over to tapping into his soul, and now, he'd made that switch. It ate away at him, siphoning off parts of his existence, but he couldn't stop. Arthur had nearly come back.
He only needed a little bit more.
The weakness overtook him, and he wouldn't manage to make an exit from this realm now. Not anymore. He couldn't possibly escape, not when he'd given too much of himself to Arthur, and so, he had doomed himself to getting stuck here for eternity.
The guardian began to pull him away from Arthur, dragging him deeper into the hell realm.
Though, maybe, Arthur could still get out. Haatim pushed harder, forcing every drop of life essence he could out of himself and into Arthur. More fully now, the man came to life.
And then reality went out of focus.
***
What is happening?
The thought came as a surprise when it flitted through Arthur's mind. From where had it come? Why had it come? He hadn't had a conscious thought in what might have been ages.
Arthur hadn't even known what it meant to no longer think until he'd lost the ability to do so. He'd lived in a sad and dark emptiness, which took from him every time he tried to reclaim his reality.
As a consequence, he had closed himself off to that world, refusing to let his torturers harm him any further. He had retreated into himself and locked himself away, accepting that he would never escape from this realm and that no reason existed for him to allow himself to think anymore.
And yet, here Arthur sat.
Waking from the longest and most painful nightmare he'd ever experienced, but so much worse than that. Surgat and his pet demons had rebuilt and broken him on a constant basis before tiring of him.
Eventually, they had forgotten him and left him to his own devices, which almost proved worse. The green ooze filling the place had sapped his strength and left him constantly cold and vulnerable.
He ignored all of that, focusing only on the tangible details of what happened right then, and tried to understand what had changed to wake him. Arthur was strong now—stronger than he had been since coming to this place.
Something had happened. Most of the demonic horde had gone, and what remained shivered with excitement when they prepared to leave too. He could sense them and their hatred and lust. They didn't even notice him anymore.
Then he spotted the orb floating next to him—and the shadow creature dragging it away. The light of energy represented an entity like himself, but this one shone with a purer light than his, though it had also almost extinguished. Some guardian creature had hold of it, pulling it deeper into the realm.
Arthur didn't recognize the soul, and could only sense that it didn't belong here. Was it a person? An outsider? How did it get here? Had this woken him? A likely possibility, but why?
It didn't matter. Whatever this soul was, it had saved him. Arthur would not let it be taken.
He lashed out with all his newfound strength, striking the guardian with a blast of golden light. The creature shrieked and released its prey, fleeing into the darkness. Arthur grabbed the fading soul and cradled it close.
Then the silver ring in the distance caught his attention. A portal to the other world. His world. He could see through it to light beyond, his home. The ring had almost closed and would disappear in only seconds. The demonic army flitted through that breach, one by one, and headed to the world above. As he sat there, he could also sense the demons beyond the portal, flying in that world and answering Surgat's call, and other things, too. More people. Frieda, and Dominick.
Then, he sensed her.
Abigail.
She lived, out there in the world above, but battled for her life. This moment, he had dreaded and prayed would never come to pass when he might lose more than just the sweet girl he had raised like a daughter.
He couldn't worry about anything else right now. No, he had to get out of here, find Abigail, and escape this hell before any of the demons noticed he had awoken.
To that end, Arthur propelled himself toward the hole, grabbing the husk of white light at his feet, and raced forward. Though moving through here was torturous, nearly impossible, he had learned how to navigate it through his years spent down here.
It would be a close call. The portal had almost shut, and it would make a tight fit to get out into the world above. He moved as fast as he could, pushing through the ooze and toward the surface.
Almost there.
Arthur pushed, scrambled, and dove through the portal just before it sealed. The green ooze covering him, and the husk of the person he carried, didn't go through the portal, but peeled off and stayed behind. Whatever they were, they couldn't exist up here.
Everything was softer, and Arthur's soul rejoiced. The world lightened and made more sense. His soul washed clean in the light of his world, and he was filled with only joy.
However, it proved short-lived. He could also sense his friends up here, battling for their lives. The person who'd woken him thinned, and it wouldn't take long for it to break down and evaporate. He needed to find the body it belonged to and return it home.
Arthur had an awareness of Abigail here, too, but couldn't see her. No matter where he searched, he couldn't locate her in this realm. Frustrated, he hunted instead for Frieda and Dominick. He found them in one of the buildings up above, fighting against the demons.
Another body lay up there with them. Did this soul belong to it? Arthur raced for the surface, gliding away from the portal. Things continued to change as his identity shifted and took form.
His body grew tangible, and the closer he got to the surface, the more real he became. Reality shifted, and the world became more real, until he was himself once more. Arthur pushed the soul into the waiting body, and then started his final trek between this realm and his own.
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