Page 27 of Hell's Secret Omega
Chapter 17
CYRUS
The lower levels are silent.Even the hammer of the forge has fallen still today, leaving the halls empty. Cyrus heads into the very heart of the mountain—the place he hates the most.
The cages.
The wide open hall slopes down toward the cage room. Every time Cyrus comes here he feels as if he’s being tipped into the dreaded hole. Sweat pricks his brow the closer he gets. He hugs the wall, telling himself it’s in case someone comes by. But few demons come down here. Only the Quartermaster.
Demons hate the Quartermaster’s whip, but what they truly fear is the cages. Many have been dragged here never to leave. Their bones lie at the bottom of the hole, a testament to Magnus’s sadistic cruelty.
Cyrus was last here three moons ago, not as a prisoner, but a visitor.
The slope steepens, pebbles sliding underfoot. At the bottom of the slope the ground cuts away to a hole, and the ceiling rises into a vaulted roof. The ribs of its dome hang like warnings from a carved peak. He squeezes past the edge of the drop-off onto the surrounding ledge, a broad, unfinished floor stained with unmentionable substances. Ever-burning torches line theroom, illuminating its centerpiece: a gaping hole, above which hang a dozen rusted cages. Suspended on chains as thick around as Cyrus’s wrist, each cage is big enough to hold a demon—maybe two, if the Quartermaster is feeling especially cruel. The chains are fastened to powerful winches set into the wall, which allow the Quartermaster to decide how high or low to dangle the offender.
Higher, and the caged demon is safe from what lurks below.
The deeper into the hole the cage goes, the less likely they’ll survive.
A careless demon, dazzled by the horrific display above, could easily tumble over the edge of the hole. Cyrus spares the cages a mere glance. Long poles are cradled in brackets on the far side of the room, used to draw the cages in for new victims, but Cyrus ignores them too. Instead he heads for a notch in the lip.
Cautiously, he lowers himself over the edge of the hole.
The descent makes him clammy and short of breath every time. His vergis goes crazy, his nerves screaming. Something about the dark pit ignites a horrible fear in him. But he climbs slowly, purposefully, suppressing every single instinct with sheer force of will.
This dark is not like a room without torches, or a night without a moon. It’s an oppressive, stinking, frightened dark. At the bottom of the hole a den of starving serpents are chained to a post, trapped by a steel net that keeps them from chewing their way out.
Serpents don’t prefer demon flesh, but they’ll eat anything if they’re starved for long enough.
Cyrus holds his breath against the stench. Fear threatens to crawl out of his throat in a cry. He’s been caged before—more times than he can count. The first time, it was the worst thing he’d ever experienced. Worse than the whip. The second, third,tenth times were just as terrifying. Alone, with no measure of time, suspended and unable to move. And the stench. But each time, he survived.
You’re in control. You’re not in a cage now.
In control.
In control.
He doesn’t look down or around until he reaches his destination: a small ledge carved in the cliff. Next to it, a different type of cage is set into the rock—a cave with a barred door. He stops, clinging to the cliffside as he catches his breath.
Magnus uses this climb as an initiation rite, sending minor demons into the hole to feed the serpents if there haven’t been fresh prisoners to lower in. Taunting the inhabitant of this cage is just a bonus—stand too close, and an unsuspecting demon might get dragged inside.
Cyrus inches closer to the bars.
He unwraps the hunk of meat from his shirt. Below, chains clank as the serpents stir. They smell it, of course. But they can’t reach him here.
He taps on the bars.
“Hey,” he calls softly.Tap, tap, tap. “Ekko. It’s me.”
There’s no response. Cyrus’s chest tightens with worry and guilt.I shouldn’t have left it so long.
Ekko is the one Magnus doesn’t feed. Cyrus has spent enough time dangling next to this very spot to know it intimately.
Magnus is afraid of Ekko.
Cyrus isn’t.
He taps on the bars again. “Ek-ek. Come on. I know you’re in there.”
