Four
Gray
I knelt in the bottom of a small wooden boat blackened with rot, floating on an obsidian lake. A striking orange-red sky bled across the horizon, beautiful like the dawn but for the faces looming in its dark gray clouds. They were the ghosts of hell, each mouth stretched and howling in torment, every one of them reflected endlessly in the black-mirror lake.
Their screams roared like the wind, but caused no ripples. When I reached over the side of the boat and trailed my fingers through the water, I felt nothing but air.
It was all an illusion meant to slowly drive me insane.
My predicament was neither a mystery nor a surprise. As a demon sworn witch, my chances of escaping the hell portal had been less than zero. I’d known the risks, but I’d taken them anyway; all I’d wanted
