between hell.

VI

(updated)

act two: lust

part six: eternal darkness

Into the eternal darkness, into fire and into ice.

-Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy.

MACARIA ASKER

A certain assassin inched through the night, which was bleared by the touch of mist.

Macaria's wily leer lacerated through her prey, as her target let a roar of anguish loose. Her dagger stung his soul and as Macaria moved back, his caliginous gore dribbled from her blade. She slitted his mouth, until it fell open and he stared at her, drowned in the deep waters of terror. The cinnabar incise, her mark, on his ebony skin gave Macaria a sense of intoxication.

"Why me?" His voice slowly elevated. Even when facing Death herself, his tone exuded vainglory.

"You were a Rebel to Her law." She clicked her tongue, as his anaemic eyes lifted and skimmed over her savage features.

"You are a cold bitch, assassin." Macaria simpered. The former Courtier's back touched the wall, and his body collapsed. The night was silent hereafter, but Macaria could hear inky souls wailing underneath the abysmal plains, blood quenching their thirst.

*

The Court was the epitome of the Queen's splendour. Its shoulders were enrobed in lambent moonlight and it resembled the dreary, abysmal plains of Hell. It was fashioned in the flames of hellfire, and its aura was drenched in the scent of Death, this time it was one of Melinoe's own.

Macaria held Dionysus' head in her hand, as she trod on the carpet, making her way towards the Queen's garnet throne. Melinoe and Xiemin were the only ones present in the Court. Her smirk deepened, as her sight fell on Macaria and the Rebel's head in her hand.

Macaria let the head drop from her hand, and it fell to the ground with a loathly thud.

Melinoe's dark byzantium locks flowed past her tiny waist like the peccable ichor cascading through her deathless body. Clinquant beads of sunlight clung to her, forming her gown. Melinoe may have been immortal, but her pulchritude wasn't. The slain heavens had blessed her with the bronze on her sharp cheekbones, as dark blood dripped from the edges of her eyelashes. The bones of her enemies had been sculpted into her diadem, and it hung loosely on her dainty head.

Macaria's gaze met Xiemin's stern one. His undying disapproval of her job was clear. But, the Realm run on one rule: kill or be killed. Dying of starvation wasn't glorious, and if there was one thing Macaria craved; it was glory.

"Good work, Macaria." Melinoe's honeyed voice flitted through the Court, destroying the silence that reigned in that starless moment, "but, I have another job for you."

Macaria let a sigh loose. "Another Rebel?" Ire seeped into the Queen's gaze.

"Worse. Xylan Galnav broke out of Vajyabonde."

Perplexity became a regnant on Macaria's visage. The Rebel's starless eyes and cosmic mop of bleached hair had been brutally chiselled into the assassin's memory. His ghastly screams still echoed off the walls of the Court.

That boy was young when she'd brought him in, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. She'd never forget the words he'd said, when the Guards had shoved his frail body into a cell.

You're insane if you think these people are your friends, assassin. Even your shadow leaves you in the darkness.

Macaria had rarely paid the dungeons a visit after that, but when she did, she would hear stridulent chuckles from the young Rebel's cell. The Guards had said he was on the verge of psychosis, but Macaria knew his condition went way beyond the depths of a mental illness.

"I want you capture him again, it's time I put an end to this. It's time to spill his blood in the water."

*

A/N: This is the official 6th chp of between hell, hope you enjoy :) also above attached is an amazing fanart of macaria by @redd.jarr