Mazikeen
Legacy Name: Mazikeen

I'm sure we've all heard of the pearly gates of heaven with their tall golden arches, radiant glowing bars of solid starlight, blah, blah, blah. The gates I keep are a pair with much greater originality. They are a monument to all things disgusting and gruesome, meant to remind those who glance on their magnificence that this is the entry to hell, not some vacation resort they can check out of in a week. You wouldn't believe how many fools there are that think they can sweet-talk a demoness into letting them check out the other side. My tried-and-true response is that their black hearts would go terrible with white flowing gowns.

My gates never quite look the same to any two doomed souls that pass through their frame. Swirling fog reshapes to remind the viewer of their darkest sins in life, lest they should try to forget what landed them in this realm of dripping darkness. The frame of the gate contains sharp bits of metals known to a dozen worlds that contain mortal life, though the main frame is ground giant bones that forms two ebony arches. Along the upper rim are the skulls of the Vile Twelve, vile dictators and mass murderers whose names live on long after their crimes have been reduced to half-remembered legends. I switch them out every half-century or so, whenever the people of the dozen life-bearing planets manage to forget their history lessons enough to allow a new monster to rise. The glue that holds my glorious gates together is a sort of tar from the deepest demon pits, thinned with a single drop of blood from every type of living organism.

It is not for me to judge those that descend to the depths. I just operate the gates. Beg and plead all you like. Seat yourself in the black muck that is this realm's only carpet. You can even throw yourself over the edge of the chasm, though in time the bizarre gravity of the place will spit you right back onto my little shelf of land. You will pass through my gate eventually, no matter how you fight the call of the forces within. Curse the people you knew in life for leading you astray, if it makes you feel better. It was by your actions alone that you came to be here and it is for your failings that you have earned a place as my master's eternal guest.

When you do give in to temptation at last, the Cup of Ether will touch your lips. Your old life and the world above will cease to exist as you are taken to your assignment.

You may be made to stare at the perfect fruits hanging on the Trees of Deception as you collect the rotted samples on the ground. Their heights are formed of brittle glass with razor-sharp leaves that will cause pain with even a feather-light touch on their surfaces. When you realize the futility of trying to climb, you will stoop to sampling the rotted fruits on the ground. Though they are every bit as beautiful as their unreachable sisters above, they taste of bile and ash.

Or maybe you will find your place is in the Broken Harmony Ballroom. Skeletal creatures sing off-key while hideous bloated insect bodies play jangling tunes on instruments that imitate the sounds of animals giving birth and lives ending in cosmic disturbances.

There are those ignorant enough to believe there are only seven pits of hell for the seven they claim as deadly sins. The number is more like seven hundred and seventy-seven, though not even those assigned to count the hairs on the heads of every living creature in magical mirrors the size of a pon head could give you the exact number. The greatest of the demons are quite creative in coming up with new ideas for torments and my master is quite generous in granting them anti-matter to shape new pits for their needs.

My brothers and sisters of the demon-folk are the only ones capable of leaving through the same gate they entered...with the exception of one vexing human maiden whose virtue was misguided. She reclaimed her good standing, won the heart of a hero, and cheated death by returning to the mortal realms. If you want her story, go read it in the Great Library. I'll not waste words on that one.

There are nights when I long to join the roving bands that terrorize the worlds above on invisible wings, but my place is here, maintaining my gates.

Story by Pureflower
Art by Celestial
Profile by hermes
Quote by William Secker