Reincarnated into a Snow Griffin-Chapter 159

It is a massive stone solid door, enough to pass more than one dragon at once, surrounded by an overbearing black mist covering the walls and ceiling and concealing well that we are still inside a very big cave, especially when the door has nothing on the sides and behind it, actually standing, overbearing, on top of a cliff with a single stone crocked path leading to its entrance while being surrounded by sheer void on the sides.

I look over the edge, unable to see the end even with my eyesight. How deep did it go? It couldn’t be deeper than the mountain itself now, could it?

But then there is the door itself, catching all the eyes in the room with the two massive double doors made of what looks to be obsidian with red veins crisscrossing the entire surface, pulsating vividly from time to time, almost like a sleeping dragon puffing smoke from its nostrils, a remembrance of the powers that lie within the stale beast.

And there is one at the front of it as well.

It is hard to tell at first, but the lack of movement and a heartbeat tells me the creature at the front is not alive, but my eyes have difficulty accepting and perceiving it as a dead being as my other senses tell me so for how real and alive the statue looks.

It is made at the shape of a horned monster covered in black scales that mixed and melted back on the door well, and it was made mid movement as if trying to get out, more than half of the body already out with big talon hands holding the edges as if pulling the strong legs out of the obsidian itself.

And its growling face is up there in full display, the huge main pair of horns twisting back, painted in a crimson red, but the others, smaller and some duller, even a little square, are white and popped here and there, very highlighted and in harmony against the black scales.

But the snout showed just how unfriendly the beast was painted as.

With four pair of diamond shaped completely red eyes it stared just up where we were standing, showing off rows of teeth that could bite my head off even in my owl form, a protuberant chin that only elongates the mouth and increases the biting power.

"What is that...?" I mumble as I look at Camillo, seeing a stern look in his eyes for the first time as he stares at the door with a mix of cautiousness and fear that is hard to perceive that a simple door would be able to cause such reaction, so I cannot help but keep my eyes at the possible threat as well, even if all looked stale as stone.

"Don’t worry, there is no threat at night, so far at least." He looks at me then and tries to give a reassuring smile, which is hard when you have a white tiger’s face full of scars, from big to small.

"These are the Hell Gates." He says, and I could not find a more fitting name for what I am seeing right now.

"Wait... these? In plural? There are more than this one? And what are they?" I ask, unsure of what exactly this is but feeling by the pure pressure it has from this far that it wasn’t a good thing.

"There are currently three that we know of in the continent, but this one is the biggest and oldest by far." He says. "We are not sure what they are or how they came to be, and though we may have many suspicious of its origins what we know is that, every day, that demon monster moves a little bit more out of the door, and soon after the gates open to reveal a living hell on the other side, where nightmary creatures live and try to get out every day."

I remember Lily saying that she saw a rare fire creature from this place, so characteristic that she managed to find the original location of a gate just by having a general idea about it, and looking at the door and at the growling horned beast is easier to tell how now.

"These... monsters are mindless strong beasts that only know how to kill and hunt and cannot be left to their own devices. If let loose, when the sun comes up and they do not return to the hell they came from, if they reach manage to escape our grasp they will be unstoppable, no normal magic can defeat them, only those of Ice, Water, or very strong Fire elements can fight them back properly. When they do not get attracted back to the fire pit of the Hell’s Gate, when they are so lost up there that they are left to roam free, then I’m afraid we may have another lost war at our doorstep, just like the ancient one from before."

I frown, thinking which one he was referring to, and for some reason I think of the biggest yet farthest away from now, the ones of demons against humans, but not the one from now, no, the war to start them all, the one before the Goddess brought magic upon this world, the scene before were demons did what they wanted and there was no one to stop them, no forces strong enough to go against those already born in magic.

Perhaps it is all this demon talk that I have been having with Etahn since discovering the nature of his powers, deep enough to dig into courts and demon clans and commands, that has led me to think of that war first things first, as much as it could be said to be the biggest and most important turning point of all races united, leading to having magic and locking the demons on an island.

Know thy enemy.

I guess it wasn’t a surprise to think in such a way after all, but it was surprising when I apparently got it right.

"These creatures can only be pushed back at most, if not strong enough water type evaporates before they can do much damage, and only the best at fire can push back their flames against them. The most effective way, and at times the only one, is through the Ice element."

I narrow my eyes at that statement, already knowing where this is going and not carrying to listen in the slightest, though curious about the nature of the gate itself.

And yet Camillo does not say anything anymore, he does not try to convince me he had his reasons for abandoning us, nor talk about his great achievement and responsibilities in this place, he only says general words about the situation and leaves it at that, perhaps aware that none of his words would have reached me even if he tried to convince me of any of that bullshit, but I have to respect him for not even trying, to taking the blame and the shame that was befitting him.

"So now, tell me... what happened to your mother?"