The Family

Hell is empty.

It made no sense to the being who took the name of Angel. She anticipated flying over a basin of lava filled to the brim with damned souls. She did not expect to be walking on a frozen lake.

The soles of her bare feet trembled. Cold’s touch was unfamiliar to her, having spent the entirety of her unlife under what was essentially a blazing cauldron. Her wings, forged in hellfire, suffered the most. Her dark feathers fell like autumn leaves, leaving behind a literal trail of herself wherever she went.

But not a single word of complaint left Angel’s lips. How could she, when the little boy holding her hand showed no sign of stopping or protest?

But when Stanley finally stopped, it was for a reason she did not expect.

He asked, “Are you okay?”

Though she lacked a human heart, Angel felt warmth inside of her. His concern slowed her shivering ever so slightly. Her guilt, however, did not let the tremors stop entirely.

Forcing a smile and steeling her body to the best of her ability, she replied, “You don’t need to worry about me. I may look cold, but I’m in no danger.”

“But your feathers…”

“I’m marking our trail so we don’t get lost.” She ruffled his hair in hopes of reassuring the boy. “You’re still holding onto the Atlas, yes?”

“Yeah, but all it’s showing is a big circle. Oval? It’s like an egg.”

Angel giggled. Never would she imagine hell’s magma chamber to be described as “an egg.” But the humor on her face did not last for long.

“Once we ascend into the upper levels, it won’t look like that anymore. What you see on the Atlas shifts depending on where you are.”

“Will it show me where Mom is?”

“Why don’t we find out?” She took her hand off his hair. “Let’s keep going so that the Atlas changes.”

They resumed their trek across the frozen lake. This time, his tiny fingers wrapped around her palm tighter than before. It was awkward, but it worked.

Angel did not feel as cold as before. His hand was tiny, but the heat that pulsed with each beat of his heart soothed the stinging in her skin. Thawed the ice beneath it.

But temperature wasn’t their only enemy.

The air, which had been stagnant so far, howled like wolves. Wind—a force of nature that had no place in hell—announced its rude arrival. And with its coming, Angel sensed contempt from the cold.

She extended her right wing, forming a barrier against the sudden windchill. The gust of frigid air ravaged her feathers, scattering them. It was like a flurry of invisible javelins was hurled straight at her, their tips of ice keen on puncturing her makeshift shield.

Even as the blistering cold spread to her shoulder, she held her guard. The shield would not break. She would not allow the blizzard’s wrath to reach Stanley. Urging him on, they maintained their pace as these alien winds grew in intensity.

Angel clenched her teeth. There was no denying it—she was in pain. What should have been a foreign concept to her reared its ugly head for the first time.

None of this makes sense.

Stanley’s presence. Hell’s arctic emptiness. The sensation of physical pain. It was as if everything she had ever known was being challenged. Her grasp on reality loosened.

But she would not let go. She couldn’t.

She gave her word to protect this boy. Her sense of duty kept her sanity intact even in the face of agony. Even as the icy storm battered her, assaulted her in multiple directions, not once did she falter. Her wings held firm. The winds would break before her shield did.

By the time the onslaught of gale and frost was over, Angel knew her wings were lighter than before. She wasn’t sure if she could even fly anymore.

“You did a good job holding onto the Atlas and pushing forward.” She hid the torment she endured under her worried expression. But the concern she wore was not for herself—it was for him. “Were you cold?”

“A little,” he muttered. “But I’m okay. I’m used to it!”

Used to it?

“You’ve encountered these winds before?”

“No, but I’m used to the cold.”

Angel knew for a fact that the blizzard they faced was unlike any other on earth. And yet, the boy wasn’t lying.

She asked, “Where do you live?”

“My house! But umm… it wasn’t always that cold. It only felt that way after Dad left.”

The pause that followed had weight to it. The enthusiasm in his voice didn’t just vanish. It was killed outright.

“Oh, oh! The Atlas is changing! I think we’re almost at the end of the lake!”

Stanley pulled Angel like a pet, their clasped hands like a leash. The boy’s excitement was genuine.

Still, the mention of the boy’s father added hesitation to her steps. It was not her place to pry, but she couldn’t help but wonder. Did he die a long time ago? Was the father one of the countless souls that ended up in a game of blackjack with her?

But her pondering came to a pause not too long after it began. The sound of their footsteps changed, interrupting the sound of her own thinking in her head.

No longer did the pitter-patter of their feet travel around them. The sound waves bounced above and below as well. Angel knew they were no longer in the frozen magma chamber.

They have made it to the middle layer of hell. From the underbelly of the icy volcano to a treacherous gorge, the Atlas was now more vital than ever.

Here, the terrain was their biggest foe. Loose rocks, deceptive outcrops, and perilous overhangs lie in wait, eager to see them plummet to their doom. Despite the lack of fire and brimstone that once pervaded this level, the true punishment here was the torture of endless falling.

“Ah!” Stanley yelped. “It’s slippery!”

The tar on the ground threatened to rob the friction from their footing. Even though the flying demons that poured and ignited them were gone, the floor remained slick and oily.

“Watch your step,” she advised, her hand squeezing his tighter than before.

Where are the demons?

Angel was unsure if their absence was a blessing or a curse. Navigating these parts would be less hazardous, but if even the demons were missing, what were the odds of finding the soul of the boy’s mother?

She shook her head. Now was not the time for doubt.

“If you feel the need to stop, do not hesitate to say so,” she uttered. “Observe the Atlas carefully. The path we’re on is built like a maze.”

“It’s really helpful! Thanks for giving it to me.” The positivity in his voice was comforting.

Slow and steady. Their progress was slower than before, but it was better than dealing with the winds. As long as they continued with caution, Angel was certain the upper levels of hell were within reach.

If there were others left in hell, they had to be there.

“You’re doing a great job,” she shared. “I said I’ll keep you safe, but with the demons gone, it feels like I’m being a burden now.”

“No! You’re no burden! When the wind was being scary… you protected m—Huh?” He came to an abrupt halt. “Angel, did you hear that?”

Odd.

She heard nothing. Her keen sense of hearing—a tool honed through her blindness—should have picked up on any peculiar audio cues before Stanley did.

“Slow down!” She reminded him as he tugged her hand.

“It’s Mom! It’s Mom!”

The boy’s fingers slipped through Angel’s grasp. Losing her eyes, losing that warmth that caressed her skin, cleared the way for terror to crawl between her goosebumps.

“Stanley!”

But it was too late. His footsteps were getting further and further away.

She gave chase. Every stumble and every poor step she took was an invitation for the gorge to take her into its chasm. The horror she felt running in the dark was far colder than the blizzard that pummeled her wings.

“Stanley!!”

If anything were to happen to the boy, it would be a catastrophe. There was no greater insult to her station as Arbiter for an innocent soul to be punished unjustly.

Why? Why did he appear before her in the first place?

“STANLEY!!!”

His footsteps stopped. But before she could breathe a sigh of relief, she heard a voice from below. The voice of a man.

“It’s the last time, I swear!” The echoes from the abyss amplified his desperation. “Please! It’ll be different this time.”

A woman’s voice replied, her echoes bleeding into his. “You’re TEARING this family apart.”

At that moment, Angel realized those voices had no soul. They belonged to no man or woman.

It was another anomaly.

“This family that I built and I carried on my back for YEARS!” The male voice shouted back. “Do you know just how goddamn much I threw away just to be with you? HUH?!”

“How dare you? Just—Just look at you! Look in the bloody mirror, for Christ’s sake! You can’t keep going to the Den, Nick! I don’t even recognize you anymore!”

“Real classy. Oh that’s reaaaal classy.”

“STOP IT!” The female voice cried out. “Stanley’s inside there!”

“So what? You think I don’t know where you’re hiding the money? You dragged him into this!”

“That’s your son!”

“THAT’S YOUR EXCUSE!”

At that moment, Angel caught up to Stanley, standing at the edge of the cliff like a statue. She covered his ears, trying to stop him from listening to the conversation. She covered his eyes for good measure, too.

A child like him should not witness something so ugly. Why such a cruel memory played out for him, she wasn’t sure. Hell had changed into something different since he arrived, but it seemed that it still upheld its duty of tormenting souls, even if the only one left didn’t belong here.

Her palms grew wet. Tears trickled down his cheeks, crystallizing from the cold. He wept, even as the anomaly ended. But what struck Angel the most was how quiet and subdued his crying was.

She realized now the burden the boy carried. It must have been ingrained in him that crying only made his parents react worse.

“I… I’m sorry, Angel.”

Wiping his tears away, she hugged him from behind. “Don’t be. What you’ve heard or seen isn’t your fault.”

“I know.” The rustle of the Atlas crumpling in his clenched fist told Angel everything she needed to know.

He held onto her hand like before. The sniffles and the signs of him fighting back against his tears were still there, but it was clear he wanted to continue on the journey.

He was a big boy now.

Respecting his decision, Angel followed his lead. They pressed on in silence.

The anomalous winds from below would whisper several more times, reenacting moments from Stanley’s life, none of them pleasant. Screaming matches. His father’s abuse towards his mother, both physically and emotionally. Both of them acting as if nothing had happened—each scene conspired against the boy.

But Stanley was never led astray again. He ignored them, just like he always did back home.

“I think I know why I’m in hell now,” he uttered, breaking the pact of silence he had formed. But his voice was different. Still childlike, but the light in it was gone. “Am I a bad person for wishing Dad would’ve died?”

Angel had no answer.