Chapter Text
Legends are told so they may never die. They survive centuries, ages, languages, and men, transforming mortals into demigods and gods into myths.
We remember the epic of a fallen prince who, out of love, gave the forbidden fruit and fell from Heaven to rule over Hell…
We remember the song of the Trojan War, the cunning of the great horse, the decade-long wandering on the seas…
But behind these timeless myths, we often forget the souls!
We forget the angel who saw the beauty of Creation and the grandeur of Freedom, and who sacrificed his place in Paradise for the love of a woman.
We forget the man who failed to return home, who lost his companions, who saw his life flash by like a shadow on the waves.
Legends have an end… but their characters do not!
For the Odyssey never ends for the one who was damned, and the fall does not stop as long as hope persists. And here, in the depths of Hell, a new legend is about to be written. An Odyssey that will not lead to glory,… but to Redemption!
Like every year, Hell had just undergone another mass extermination. In the devastated streets of Pentagram City, the air still reeked of ash and sulfur, the burning remains of the annual Extermination. The Exorcists had returned home a few minutes ago, and life after the massacre was calmly resuming, just as it did every year. And just as every year, in the middle of the ruins of Pentagram City, several demons were fighting to reclaim the territories of those who had been killed… but some were simply looking to survive.
In the midst of this chaos, hooves clacked against the cracked pavement, echoing through the surrounding pandemonium. The horse hooves of a hooded Sinner! His breath was short, but his eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned every corner, every shadow, and his mind, as keen as a blade, calculated every step, every detour. The bag he clutched to him seemed light, swaying with each stride, far too much to justify the fury of the Sinners who were chasing him. The pack howled obscenities, their hoarse voices, mixed with curses as colorful as the broken neon signs flickering above the gutted buildings, rising behind him like a storm.
“Catch that bastard! He stole from us!” a scaly-skinned demon yelled, brandishing a studded bat.
“I’m going to rip off his hooves and nail them to his head!” another growled, his horns still smoking with rage.
“Get back here, you filthy thief!” a scarlet-skinned demon shrieked, his claws scraping the ground.
“We're going to skin you for this!” another chimed in, his yellow eyes glowing with a ravenous light as he brandished a twisted metal bar.
With a wheezing breath, the pursued Sinner didn't look back. He didn't need to look behind him to know they were still on his trail. He knew this kind of hunt! His powerful horse legs carried him through the rubble with an agility born of centuries of cunning. He knew these alleys like a sailor knows the currents: every turn, every pile of rubble was a mental map he used to his advantage!
He knew this game where cunning was better than strength. Especially here, where the slightest mistake could cost an eternity of torment!
With agility, he suddenly swerved into a narrow alley, dodging an overturned trash can. His pursuers, too carried away by their anger and momentum, stumbled heavily over the obstacle, jostling each other in a chorus of grunts and insults. With a single leap, he scaled a half-collapsed wall, ignoring the pain throbbing in his starving muscles, narrowly avoiding a broken bottle thrown in his direction.
“You're going to die, you bastard!” a raspy voice shouted, but the horse Sinner didn't respond.
He had never liked to waste his words!
He then spotted a narrow alley, barely lit by a flickering streetlamp. Without hesitation, he plunged into it, his hooves sliding slightly on the damp ground, his heart pounding. The oozing walls seemed to close in on him, but he finally stopped, pressing himself against a wall covered in obscene graffiti while his torn, ancient cloak floated around him like a shroud, camouflaging his body. His pursuers stormed past, their howls receding like a disoriented pack. He waited until silence returned, broken only by the hum of neon lights and the distant crackle of a fire. Letting out a sharp sigh, he slumped to the ground, calming himself. With trembling hands, he opened the bag and took out its contents: a simple piece of bread. His eyes, with pupils a deep ocean blue set in black sclera, tired but sharp, scanned the bounty before he brought it to his mouth, his teeth, sharper than in his mortal life, sinking effortlessly into the crust, and he chewed slowly, his eyes closed, savoring every crumb as if he feared it would be his last.
Hunger, that old companion, twisted his guts, but he knew what it was to fast, to go for days without anything, his stomach screaming louder than the waves of a raging sea. He had already experienced it, whether in his mortal life or in the flames of Hell.
Down here, even survival was a trick!
Satiated, or at least soothed by what he had already eaten, he left the alley, pulling his hood over his face to hide his features, ignoring the mocking laughter of passersby who saw his clothes, a mix of an ancient tunic and a patched-up cloak, torn and threadbare.
His belt was nothing more than a simple rope.
The passersby, Sinners with grotesque shapes, eyed him with mocking grins.
“Look at that hick, he looks like a survivor from a museum!” a hyena-like demon snarled, his fangs gleaming under the flickering neon lights.
“Hey, centaur, you lost or something?” a sharp-toothed demon sneered, sprawled against a wall.
“Look at that beggar in a toga!” a she-demon with fiery hair laughed while another, a colossus covered in chains, spat at his feet.
The Sinner didn't respond, his piercing gaze sweeping the crowd from under his hood. He had faced far worse than this! His steps guided him at random through the winding streets, between the carcasses of gutted buildings and the garish signs touting pleasures as fleeting as they were toxic, advancing without a specific purpose, having had none for centuries. Hooves clacked on the ground with a silent dignity, avoiding pools of half-dried blood and the still-smoking debris of the Extermination with an obvious weariness, this day being just another day in this Hell.
Suddenly, a giant screen, cracked but still functional, lit up above a crowded square.
“Welcome everyone to 666 News! I'm Katie Killjoy! And today, while many sectors are currently unoccupied and demons from all over the Ring are flocking to seize them, we have a very special guest: Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of the very famous King of Hell, who wants to… wait… rehabilitate Sinners?”
The Sinner stopped, his demon ears twitching under his hood as he paused and blended into the crowd watching the broadcast. On the screen, a young woman with blond hair and rosy cheeks radiated an enthusiasm that seemed out of place in this hellish setting. She gesticulated with excitement, her eyes shining with an almost absurd hope as she began to speak:
“Hello! I’m Charlie Morningstar and I want to tell you about something incredible! A hotel that rehabilitates Sinners!” she announced while the presenter, a demon with short blond hair, perfectly white skin, and red eyes with a small yellow pupil, raised a skeptical eyebrow. “My Happy Hotel is a place where Sinners can change! Because yes! We offer you a chance at redemption, a chance to prove that even in Hell, you can become better! Yes, even you, Sinners!” she continued, her eyes shining with an almost absurd faith. “We're going to help you become better versions of yourselves so that, maybe, one day, you can leave Hell! And by doing so, we can counter the Overpopulation of the Pride Ring and cancel the Exterminations!”
The crowd around the screen burst into laughter, their booming voices almost drowning out the young woman's words. Some hurled insults before walking away, others threw empty bottles at the image of the young Charlie.
“Redemption? In this dump? Where does she think she is, the princess?” a demon with bat wings sneered.
“This kid is completely nuts!” a three-headed demon cackled, spitting a jet of flames for amusement.
“She's crazier than a rabid imp!” a succubus scoffed as she walked away.
But while the streets emptied, the horse-like Sinner did not laugh. Under his hood, his eyes were narrowed, pensive.
Redemption…
A crazy idea, worthy of a capricious god toying with the fate of mortals… and yet, the word resonated like an old song, an echo of a life where he had dreamed of returning home, to his wife… A life where he had believed, against all odds, that he could escape destiny. A part of him he thought had long been extinguished seemed to want to resonate again, like an ember under the ash of a fire just waiting for a simple breath to ignite once more.
He looked down at the half-eaten bread in his hand. He knew how to survive. How to trick, steal, and flee, he knew by heart. But to change? To become the man he had been before the wars, the journeys, the losses… before Hell… Was it possible, even here, in this place where souls were damned for eternity?
The streets came alive again, the demons resuming their business of looting, trafficking, and settling scores while the young woman continued to speak with a fervor that contrasted with the surrounding cynicism.
“I know there’s good in all of you! A rainbow just waiting to be revealed! I know there’s a chance for you! A chance to be better and to open your wings! I believe in you!”
The man adjusted his hood and resumed his walk, but this time, his steps seemed less aimless.
“Charlie Morningstar…” he breathed, a slight, cunning smile forming on his lips, his raspy voice tinged with an ancient accent. “Happy Hotel, huh…”
As he walked away, a plan was already forming in his mind, as convoluted as the streets of Pentagram City. His hooves clacked louder, as if they were following a new compass. Hell was a labyrinth, but he had always known how to find his way.
If he had to find a path to this Happy Hotel, he would! With all the cunning and tenacity that had made him a legend!
Even in Hell!