What starts out as an odd sleep — where I feel like I’m in two places at the same time — proceeds swiftly to dead-tired, I don’t dream of anything. I can vaguely sense the storm roaring outside, the water lashing in on me, the sulfur scent of Hell’s air, the cooler and cleaner air coming up from the cracks. A part of my mind is still alert. I’m in fracking Hell after all. A place full of dangerous devils along with various lurking demons. All hungry in their own ways for the wisps of earthly mortals.

I don’t know what wakes me, hours later. Perhaps it is the sudden quiet outside. Perhaps it is the sound of scuffling and muttering. Probably both. But all I know is there is a whip-sharp crack of a single spark from my name curse as warning and then I am wide awake.

“I am hangry! Bob is hangry!” something hisses pitifully and angrily from a three-foot wide crack about five feet off to my right. A big green scaley lizard head emerges. A long tongue flickers out between hooked teeth the size of my forefinger — tasting the air. Bulbous yellow glowing eyes shoot beams like spot lights into the cleft where I am resting. The eye-lights flick over me and then continue on toward the raging storm outside. “Smell something. Ssssooofffttt. Smells, soft. Smells of wisp. Strong wisp. Tasty wisp.” It clacks its jaws and sound echoes out. It then bobs its head up and down as the rest of its body slither-flops through the hole.

I freeze as the twelve-foot-long lizard emerges. It possesses a sinuous body with a spiney ridge along its back. Four legs, the forelimbs of which look dexterous enough to manipulate objects, propel it in a chameleon waddle-hop. On its right shoulder is a glowing blue orb. I know what this object is somehow. One of my memories from before the potion has re-surfaced. That orb holds captured wisps. Kind of like a devil’s lunch box, power crystal, and money purse all wrapped up in one. Worb for wisp orb. So this is a devil? Perhaps it was once human but since it is keeping wisps it has now transferred fully over as a native of Hell. Probably did so to survive. Humans in Hell learn quick that it’s either be prey or predator. There’s really very few other options in the zero sum world of Hell.

“Could it be… the Mottle??” Bob the devil lizard hisses to himself. Hot spittle from its mouth splatters toward me. Where it falls into the water, it causes a boiling reaction. “No. This smells…” the long tongue flicks the air, I shift away from it as it licks the space where I was sitting a moment before. “This smells hoomannn. Sssstrong. Closssee.” It pauses to ponder for a moment. “Besidesss, Bob ate other Mottles. The last grew cunning. No longer staysss on ground.” It clacks its jaws again, making quite a racket.

Thank the freaking gods I set up a full body ignarus curse. Saved my ever-loving life. But it won’t last long. The thing can clearly smell me and it keeps licking the space I was in only a moment before as I dance away. It can actually see me — but it doesn’t realize it yet. Won’t take long, though. It’s already engaged its other senses. I should use the element of surprise while I still have it. I lift my left hand. As I do, I can hear the wind starting to pick up outside again. The calm eye of that monster storm is about to pass bringing with it the second half of its destructive force. I can’t think about that too much now. I have the devil lizard Bob leaping around and waving his tongue in my face.

My magical tattoo begins to spark as my intention to fight fills it. I’m cornered. I have little doubt that Bob here would eat me and devour my wisp in an instant given even half a chance. Not gonna let that happen. This situation calls for one of my original curses. No half measures will do. I shift to the side and position myself to strike at Bob’s shoulder and through its wisp orb. Such a strike will take away his devil magic, free the wisps, and hopefully put Bob immediately out of commission all in one go. That’s the theory at least. But to do it I need the right weapon.

“Lunen svert umbra!” A beam of moonlight shoots up from my magical tattoo into my hand as I chant the invocation. The light casts a deep shadow that magically forms into a razor-sharp blade. I hold its light and shadow as a rough sword-like form in my hand — leaping forward to strike. Its point catches the worb, punches through its hard outer shell and then starts to slice into Bob’s shoulder. But Bob is quick. He’s survived Hell so his instincts and reflexes are honed to a T. Bob leaps back. My blow is not lethal.

Bob wails as his broken worb falls to the ground and wisps begin to shoot out from it. Willowy ghosts that remind me of flying jellyfish dart into the air. Just more spikey and less globular. They dance up along my moon-shadow blade and flow swiftly into my name curse. It grows bright and energy fills me. I hear the wisps’ voices in my head. They are thanking me for freeing them. For giving them shelter. I get a brief image of the inside of my name curse as these wisps see it. Some geodesic dome structure filled with light and music. Five wisps now float there. Once humans who were trapped — by their own bad actions, by Asmodeus’s subterfuge or capture, or by pure bad luck — in Hell. Now, they’re somehow sheltered and temporarily liberated.

I am completely fracking surprised by this turn of events. Bob meanwhile is wailing even as the returning storm wind is starting to roar. A few bits of sand and grit are making their way into my cleft. The wind has shifted. The cleft has become less protective.

“Ssstoled them!!” He roars at me, oblivious to the environmental shift. “Ssssee you now! Hoomaan! Dead!” He turns the spines on his tail toward me and then launches them like freaking spears through the air at me point-blank. I have only one option. Dodge like hell. Throwing caution to the wind, I dive head first into one of the crevices. I fall ten feet down into some kind of pit-cave that has about three feet of water at the bottom. Splash! In a second I’m up. The water broke my fall and I’m unhurt. I stand – propelled upward mostly by panic. Just above me, a row of spines is embedded in the wall. The moon-shadow blade re-fires in my hand. It’s a strong enchantment and should last for an hour. One of its utilities is I can’t drop it. It keeps coming back.

“Dead now hoommaann wissssppp thief!” Bob shouts from above as he prepares to lunge down on me. I start to scramble back. But the ground is uneven and underwater, so I stumble. The roaring outside has now grown extreme. There is a great inrush of air as Bob springs. He never makes it to the bottom. The wind has returned but this time from the opposite direction. It is exactly lined up with the opening of the cleft. Razor sand and missiles propelled at what must be about 200 miles per hour invade the cleft – riddling Bob full of holes even as the devil lizard is thrown bodily against the back wall. Luckily for me the hole I dove into gives me cover from this death-wind.

There is a sparkling of blue-white light as Bob’s wisp emerges from his dead corpus. It flickers and bounces around in the wind, then drifts down toward me. My name curse sparks in rejection. One of these sparks imbeds in the wisp. As this exchange occurs, Bob’s wisp darkens, becoming inky-black. It flows down into the water like a snake, then shoots toward me. It leaps into the air, twisting behind me. Slowly it fades into my shadow. I hear one last final echo of Bob’s voice in my head.

“Hhhhaaannnggggrrryyyy,” it hisses. And somehow it is there. Behind me. A devil’s wisp locked up in my shadow. My name curse as magical tattoo sparkles a few more times mysteriously. In the core of my being, I can feel Bob behind me as a dark wisp. He is somehow locked up in my shadow by the magic of my name curse just as the other five wisps, ones it accepted, are sheltering directly within its magical architecture. What the hell?

I’d lifted my moon-shadow blade into a guard position to defend myself. I drop it a little and let out a long sigh of relief. That was way too fracking close. I pat myself to make sure everything is whole and unbroken. My first thought is of the glass Perrier bottle. Holy crap! But my hand lands on it and finds it somehow still in one piece. Will need to figure out some way to protect the glass. But what to do now?

I stand for about a minute in the dark, somewhat smelly, water and consider my options. There’s no way I’m going back up into that cleft. Already, little bits of debris are raining down on me. Even worse, water is starting to flow in. It’s rising. So pretty soon I’ll be swimming and then pushed back up toward that wind of death. I turn the light of my moon-shadow blade down the crevice to see how deep it goes. It narrows, but continues on. Looks like my only option.

I struggle forward through the water even as more pours down through the cleft above. The ground is uneven. I stumble. Occasionally I fall into a pit and have to swim. I’m crazy super careful about keeping my Perrier bottle safe. The water that gets up my nose and flows into my mouth makes me sick with its stink. And this is mostly rain water. Not the disgusting putrescence that was the Hell ocean. But it’s still definitely not fit for drinking. Where in this damned place is the water safe?

My progress is hampered as the crevice narrows. At least it’s starting to head upward. I’m slowly gaining ground, but the flood is gaining faster. Pretty soon, the water is up to my chest. At this point, I’m having to squeeze to move forward – pushing the pocket with the Perrier bottle in it ahead to keep it safe. I count my blessings that it’s not plastic. The chemicals in the water feel pretty reactive and I don’t think a thin film of petrochemical-goop would last long in such a toxic bath. Lord only knows what it’s doing to my skin. I try not to think about all that.

I’ve come to a narrow spot just before a larger open area. I can see a pool of water widening ahead. There a chamber opens above. The moon-shadow blade’s light flickers on dark rock formations and irregularities on the ceiling. Up there, I can hear storm winds roaring. Little bits of grit and water rain down in a gentle drizzle. An opening is nearby if not close enough to let the storm’s full fury inside. Some thirty feet away is a rough subterranean beach strewn with boulders.

I struggle to wedge myself through the narrow opening and into the pool. I kick, push and squiggle. I feel stone scraping my skin and clothes. The water starts to flow over my head. I breath out and hold my breath trying to make my body as thin as possible. My lungs burn. My eyes and nose are filled with sulfur crud. One last kick and finally, I’m in. My head breaks the surface. I choke and splutter. Water is pouring behind me, thrusting me forward. I swim to the shore and clamber onto a large boulder. The water is rising, but it’s also starting to flow out of other cracks in the chamber. Its rate of rise appears to slow. Lifting my moon-shadow blade, I inspect the ceiling. It’s uneven enough that I can’t see into all the shady cracks. For a second, I glimpse something reflective in the darkness. But it’s gone as quick as it appeared. Probably some water that splashed onto the ceiling.

I sit down, still somewhat hot as water drips off me. I break out my precious Perrier bottle and take another drink. My stomach grumbles. The last food I had was at Starbucks. So no real dinner. Pretty soon now, I’m the one that’s going to start getting hangry. No use for it now. But man am I going to have some questions for my Mirror Specter when 7 o’clock Berlin time rolls around again. I lift my name curse to scrutinize it. The wisps have voluntarily energized its structure, giving some of their natural force to aid my magic. It has somehow made a safe place for them from Hell. Their energy no longer bleeds out into the fallen world’s deadly environment. They’re no longer subject to the predations of Hell’s malicious populace. I turn to look at my shadow. It dances in the light of my sparks and moon-shadow blade. I can see the dark wisp undulating within it like some kind of Cthulhu tentacle. It is also somehow removed from Hell’s environment, no longer able to prey or to be preyed upon. I feel a bit of wisp energy coming from it as well. This give is more reluctant. Yet somehow it seems to sense that I protect it now.

“Well, this is all damn fucking strange,” I say out loud as I wonder if the memory draught was meant to cover up the knowledge of my curse in my own mind. But that doesn’t really make much sense. I just discovered it again. More likely – my lack of memory about my curse’s ability to shelter wisps in Hell was due to collateral damage from the magical draught.

As I’m sitting, pondering these mysteries, there is movement up on the ceiling. A bat-like shape unfolds its membranous wings, then leaps into the air. It’s about human-sized, but the wings are rather large. In merely two flaps it has alighted on my boulder.

Oh shit! I scramble for my moon-shadow blade and put the sharp as light and shadow form between me and it as I settle into a defensive stance. My sword is bright-dark and the sparks to maintain it are eating away most of the effect of even my heightened ignarus curse. Crap. I got careless. The thing shifts a little closer and makes an inquisitive “wrrrrryyyyccchhhuukkkukkkk?” sound through a vertically open mouth. It has two big eyes sprouting from its head. Its body is long and mostly flat. I said it was a bat before but the creature looks more like a large blanket with backbone, a long tail, and a fuzzy head with enormous eyes and ears. Its landing was more like a belly-flop than the way a bird typically lands since its limbs are mere protrusions from the corners of its blanket-like body.

It makes no move to attack as it repeats its inquisitive “Wwwwrrrrryyyycccchhhhuuukkkkuuukkk?” sound. This reassures me a little. At least it doesn’t seem aggressive. The wisps in my name curse chime, giving me a sense that this creature is somehow familiar to them. They do not feel threatened by it. The Bob wisp is silent. But it wriggles a bit in recognition. I look over at the creature again. This one doesn’t have a devil’s worb. It’s not a wisp devourer. Curious. I wonder how it survives here in Hell?

“What are you?” I ask. “Can you talk?”

At this question, it spins around, lifts its tail, and tentatively extends the end in my direction. The tail is long and tipped with what I would best describe as leaf-like fronds at its end. The creature waves the tail in front of me. I recoil. The tail waving pauses, then resumes. Inviting. I get no sense of aggression.

“You want me to take this?” I point to the strange-looking tail.

The tail waving pauses again and then starts back up. Oh what the Hell. I lift my right hand and slowly extend it toward the tail. In my left, I’m still holding my moon-shadow blade in case there’s any funny business. The tail immediately thrusts forward and wraps its leaf-fronds around my hand and forearm. There is some kind of slime exuding from it. When it contacts my skin, my vision blurs and I am swimming in a flood of thoughts coming from the creature.

I am Mottle. It thinks this to me and I suddenly remember the Bob lizard-devil’s talk of Mottles. As I think this a flood of memory follows. Mottle, or whatever it was called before it became a Mottle, is in a crowd at a concert on Earth. He is hanging out with friends, partying, dancing, jumping up and down to loud music. I’m confused for a moment. Then I realize Mottle is showing me a scene from his former life. There is a screeching sound as the music suddenly stops. Loud cracks of gunfire erupt. I see people falling under hails of bullets. There are muzzle flashes coming from the balcony of a far-off hotel. Mottle as human is down. He is bleeding. He reaches out to hold hands with a young lady I think must be his girlfriend or fiancé or wife. They are bleeding out together. She is passing out. His vision starts to darken. It turns black and then returns as an ethereal blur. I realize the Mottle person is dead now. I am seeing with his wisp sight. Through his eyes I see the Terror Hounds. Hellhound demons attracted to mortal fear. They are leaping through the dead, tearing out their wisps. One is upon the girl. It rips her wisp out. Suddenly, Mottle’s wisp is grabbed in one of the Hound’s jaws.

The Hounds holding the two wisps run through a temporary Hell gate. They emerge in flashes upon the plains of Infernia. They are bounding along a knife-shaped lake toward a tower backed by a broken black-and-red land that billows endless smoke. There is a crack of lightning from the sky. The Terror Hounds are stunned. The two wisps flee together, flying as they spread to take the form of the Mottle-type creature before me. Hell has granted them their new shapes. A chance at life of a sort — clothing them in a form suitable to their terrible new environment as often happens with wisps taken in so unnatural a fashion. They alight on the rocky formation around me, finding shelter. I get a sense that this is their new home. Visions rapidly blur forward. There are other Mottles, years of life, and then the green devil lizard Bob arrives to hunt them down one-by-one. Mottle is the only one left. His sadness and loneliness consume me.

I feel Mottle searching my thoughts. I feel the wisps in my name curse chime in recognition. They exchange thoughts with Mottle. The story of my encounter with devil lizard Bob is relayed. I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. And then, a simple thought. You’ve saved Mottle and those dear to Mottle. I can help you back.

I marvel as the tail withdraws. How could such a creature exist in Hell? But before the thought is finished, Mottle has flown forward and covered me with his blanket-like body. There is a shifting as he changes color. The contact brings further thought. Myra rests. Safe now. Mottle will protect. Keep safe.

The membranous body of Mottle is somehow cooler. And I can see that he’s camouflaged me. Formed himself into a kind of mini tent the shape and texture of the rock I’m on. It’s much better than the ignarus curse alone. I can’t immediately sleep. I’m too charged up. Never would I have imagined I’d make an ally in Hell much less be able to steal wisps away from devils themselves. Maybe my parents actually knew what the hell they were doing when they sent me. Maybe I knew what I was doing when I volunteered to go. Feeling a bit more confident, I let myself drift off. Above, and outside, the storm starts to slake its fury.

(Haven’t yet read the first chapter? You can find it here: Helkey 1 — The Memory Draught.)

(Looking for another chapter? Find it in the Helkey Table of Contents.)