There were so many supernatural beings out there in the world, we all lived in relative peace, humans completely unaware that the creatures in their books and tv shows are in fact real.
Some were more accepted than others, and a lot more common. I didn't fall into either of those categories.
I was a canine type supernatural, not a werewolf, not a wolf-shifter, not a lycan, not even a black dog.
I was a hellhound.
I was born into the job of collecting souls of the damned. Humans who unknowingly made deals with demons, or supernatural beings desperately enough not to care.
As a hellhound i'd be paired with a demon when i came of age, they'd be my master essentially and i'd track down and collect souls for them.
As a hellhound i was considered a dark being, whereas an angel was considered a light being. Heaven and hell was obviously a thing and certain supernatural beings worked for either side. Other beings were considered 'grey' beings, like the humans of the supernatural world, they were neither good nor bad.
As a dark being it was fair to say i wasn't very popular with the light or grey beings, even some of the dark beings tip toed around me, worried i'd rip their soul from their chest and drag it into the pits of hell.
I actually hadn't officially collected a soul before, but i would be paired with my demon today.
I was understandably nervous. I hoped they'd be nice, i know, a nice demon. The phrase deserved an eye roll.
Demons worked for hell and the big man himself. They collected souls of those they'd made deals with, hated angels, cherubs and the like, owned a hellhound after coming of age and dependant on their heritage, had some pretty awesome powers.
I was hoping for a young Nikolas Cage/Skull Rider type of deal.
I didn't get to pick though.
Neither did the young demons.
Every year, every demon and hellhound that came of age will take a trip to hell and participate in whats called 'The Paring Ceremony'.
We all had souls, even demons and hellhounds, apparently our souls would 'resonate' with our destined pair. Satan himself had his own hellhound Cerberus, an all black Cane Corso, unlike human stories he only had one head. I mean three heads? How unrealistic was that?
Anyway, i was heading there with my parents and elder sister now, all in animal form as was traditon. My mother had groomed me to no end this morning. My short coat was so silky and conditioned, claws trimmed and my ears still ached from when she'd cleaned the hell out of them.
They were just spectators to the ceremony, they seemed more excited than me to find out who my master would be. I on the other hand was almost shaking with nervousness.
Hellhounds could be any breed of dog, so it was understandable for demons to have their preferences. I for one wouldn't be scared if a pomeranian hellhound tried to rip out my soul, a Cane Corso though? I wouldn't be able to run fast enough.
We're supposed to be able to track down, chase, pin down and rip soul from body, so some obvious strength and size is needed, or your hellhound will be a glorified soul carrier and the demon would have to do most the work.
I thankfully wasn't one of those.
I was a Dutch Shepherd.
I was slightly smaller than a German Shepherd and had a more slender shaped head, with a short, silky brindle coat. A Dutch Shepherd was renowned for its intelligence, high energy and sometimes obstinate personality. For those reasons i hoped i got a master that would keep me busy. That did sound bad, it's not like i wanted more souls to be damned to hell but we were just doing our jobs and making a living.
Hell itself was like a whole nother world. Humans wondered whether it was hot or cold, i can tell you its both. Like earth, hell had different climates, more extreme maybe, and well, hellish, but not so disimilar.
We were going to Satan's mountain, a giant volcano where the lord of darkness himself lived. The man was actually quite a private person, i was yet to see him anyway and it was unclear whether he'd be attending this year's pairing ceremony.
Travelling to hell was always strange. I'd only been a few times mind you. As beings of hell we could leave and enter hell without needing to perform any sort of ritual, it was all in our minds, we thought of hell and where in hell we wanted to go and we were transported there.
Have you ever been on one of those theme park rides where you go really high up and then suddenly drop? Yep. It literally felt like you were falling through the earth.
Anyway, we'd arrived. The castle our king lived in made of obsidian, tunnels carved around and above the heart of the volcano. It should feel unbearably warm but the absolutely desolate artic world outside sucked a lot of warmth out, leaving a warm wind rushing through the tunnels, reminding me a little of the human underground, but the smell was entirely different.
Basalt and red lava sloshed down below, bubbling and hissing, sulfur hung in the air and the taste of metal sat on my tongue.
There was no need for extra light with the lava below, hellhounds also had spectacular night vison, so it wouldn't matter to me so much.
Our claws clacked on the smooth obsidain floor, some parts so polished it resembled black coloured glass, and it was an open doorway we headed for, two large doors shone in the flickering light, polished so perfectly it was just as good as looking in a mirror.
