To His Hell and Back-Chapter 514: A God’s Territory-I

Even two floors below Arabella’s chamber, Cassius could still hear Esme’s laughter echoing down the stone stairwell— that mirthful ringing laughter echoed with that grating mockery she wore like perfume. It clung to him, needling him with every step the guards forced him to take, as if she wanted him to feel her triumph nipping at his heels.

He rolled his eyes, more irritated than anything, and exhaled slowly through his nose. But his mind didn’t stay on Esme for long. No— his thoughts slipped back to Arabella’s face in those final seconds before he had bowed and allowed himself to be dragged away. That flicker of anger, then hurt, then something like confusion... and then resolve sharp enough to wound him.

Gods, how he despised this role.

This sickening performance of weakness he had to carry on his shoulders. The forced humility, the meek voice, the kneeling, everything he did to avoid blowing their cover. All so they could keep the delicate illusion of calm long enough to achieve a peace neither of them would live to see if they failed.

"She doesn’t quite care for you, does she?"

Esme’s voice floated down the hall, lilting and amused. She wasn’t walking beside him— she was more like a shadow trailing overhead, circling, watching. Cassius didn’t bother answering. The guards gripped his arms on either side, dragging him along as if he were nothing but a sack of flour, but still he kept quiet.

And because silence irritated Esme more than any insult, she decided to dig her claws deeper.

"I truly wonder," she continued sweetly, "why someone like her attracts such devotion. Isaac Morph, for instance. So loyal for someone he only met recently. It makes one wonder how she entangles people so quickly."

Cassius’s jaw tightened— not in fear or doubt, but in annoyance at her ignorance.

Of course Isaac is loyal. Because unlike that snake Morpheus, Arabella actually protects her people. Because she cares, not for power, but for lives.

That was why his father’s old supporters had abandoned him as their king and turned to him instead. People knew where true safety lay, where real leaders stood.

Esme’s steps paused for a moment, and then she muttered under her breath, so quietly that even the guards didn’t react.

"Not that she’ll live long..."

Cassius’s head snapped toward her.

He heard it. Of course he heard it.

The subtle flick of her tongue, the taste of certainity instead of prediction. Esme immediately bit down on her thumb again, habitually, nervously, narrowing her eyes with irritation, as if she regretted letting the thought slip out at all.

Cassius schooled his expression back into Cassandra’s timid fear.

"I– I trust the Lady!" he stammered suddenly, forcing a tremor into his voice. "Unlike Lord Morpheus... who lies. She only speaks truth."

Esme’s eyebrow arched, surprised he dared speak at all in his current predicament. Then she smiled, slowly, cruelly.

"Truth? She is made of lies, girl. Lies wrapped in sweetness. And you— you are too naïve to see it. She is dangerous. Fatally dangerous."

Cassius looked up at her, feigning trembling confusion, "Dangerous?"

Esme clicked her tongue. "The power inside her is too vast. Too unstable. One day it will burst. And when it does—"

She snapped her fingers.

"—poof. The entire world map erased."

Cassius’s eyes narrowed behind lowered lashes.

So they knew.

Morpheus knew and Esme knew of it as well, perhaps even before they kidnapped Arabella to the castle. They knew exactly how unstable the curse made Arabella’s power. They knew a single uncontrolled eruption could level nations.

Then why?

Why were they pushing her closer to the edge? Why let her strain her magic again and again? Why stand idle as cracks formed in that old curse?

If Cassius hadn’t been at her side every moment, drawing away the excess magic bleeding off her, cushioning the explosive buildup each time she faltered—

She would have detonated during the second test.

And wouldn’t her detonation also harm the sorcerers? Harm Morpheus and endanger his life?

He doubted that Morpheus had a death wish. That man was too greedy for a man who wishes for death after all.

Then why?

All this time, he had assumed Morpheus simply didn’t notice. But now... he knew he had been wrong.

That bastard knew.

And not only that he knew, he was waiting for it. Waiting for the moment Arabella would become the weapon of her own apocalypse.

Cassius inhaled deeply, letting the guise of fear ripple across his face.

"Then..." he whispered, eyes wide, voice quivering, "A- are you frightened? That the Lady’s power will harm you? And... Lord Morpheus?"

Esme’s steps slowed.

And for just a breath—

Her smile became something darker. Something colder... something that felt almost as if it was... hungry for blood and chaos .

"It won’t endanger us, of course," Esme said, her voice lilting with an almost childlike carelessness. She brushed her thumb over the blood dripping from her eye as though it were a stray tear. "It would endanger her definitively... but not us."

Cassius felt something unpleasant twist in his chest.

There was no hesitation in Esme’s tone— only certainty. A bold confidence that told him she had rehearsed this belief and lived for it. Whatever she and Morpheus were planning, it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment cruelty. It was strategy that who knows how long had been planned by that madman.

"You want her power to detonate?" he muttered. The words tasted bitter on his tongue and he reminded, "But you would also be put to harm."

"There is a way for us not to be harmed," Esme sighed, sounding annoyed that she had to explain something she believed was obvious. She turned her head slightly, her remaining good eye glinting with a feverish brightness. "Don’t you understand? Her immense power will eventually explode, destroying everything. But if we can... contain it? Shape it? Redirect it the way we desire..."

Her lips pulled into a slow, dreadful smile.

"...then we could reach a power no one has ever touched. We could finally open the gate."

"The gate?"

The word crawled through the air like a serpent.

Cassius’s heartbeat paused, if only for a second. He felt the old instincts from the palace— the ones that warned him when a conversation turned too dangerous.

What gate?

What were they planning to open?

It wasn’t the curse. He could feel it in his bones. Their scheme wasn’t about wanting to put an end to the curse that had kept all the sorcerers in the castle like a trapped mouse, no.

Demons. A gate. The pulse of corrupted energy lingering in Morpheus’s half demonic blood.

An explosion so devastating it could tear through the world’s fabric, ripping open the seam between life and death, between realms meant to be forever separated.

Esme noticed his long silence and grinned wider, delighted.

"Curious, aren’t you?" she said sweetly, as though she were offering him candy. "I can tell you more... if you promise to share whatever little secret your lady has so carefully tucked behind her pretty curtains."

She leaned closer, her voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper.

"I might let the truth slip to you. I might even allow you to follow me. When the blood moon rises, when everything is set... I could even save you. You, little Cassandra, could be chosen— lifted beneath my wings... unlike everyone else."

Her smile turned sharpened, cruel.

"Unlike everyone who is fated to die."

Fated to die. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

They really thought they were gods. Not merely powerful— but entitled to choose who lived, who died, who ascended, who fell.

He had known Morpheus was unhinged, but this... This was beyond ambition. This was delusion given form and breath.

"Which place do you think is the best to reside in, little one?" Esme mused as the heavy stone structure of the dungeon drew nearer. The torches flickered with the drafts, casting long, creeping shadows along the stone walls. "This world? Heaven... or Hell?"

"Haven, isn’t it?" Cassius replied innocently, slipping back into the meek tone of "Cassandra," as though he still believed in the concept of salvation.

"Of course." Esme chuckled, pleased at his answer. "You know. But do you think just anyone can simply walk into Heaven?"

He didn’t respond aloud. But his thoughts snapped viciously: Of course not. Everyone in the world knows that.

"But there is a way," Esme murmured, her voice softening into a dreamy, dangerous whisper. She touched her cheek with her bloodstained fingers, dragging the scarlet across her pale skin like war paint. "If there is a rift between the mortal world and Hell... even Heaven is forced to open its gate."

She paused, savoring the idea.

"And when it opens..." Her tongue grazed the corner of her mouth. "That place becomes ours to claim. A paradise we can step into. A realm we can conquer."

Her footsteps echoed through the hallway, each one light and confident, as though she were walking toward a coronation instead of a dungeon.

Behind her, Cassius kept walking, held by the guards, but his eyes had gone dark.

If they wanted to use Arabella’s death... no her destruction, to force open the gates of Heaven...

Then the game they were playing wasn’t just cruelty.

It was apocalypse.

They wanted to use Hell to open Heaven.

"You cannot control the creatures from Hell," he warned her but Esme laughed, "But Our Lord can. He has the blood of the King of Hell. Half of it, but that’s enough to make everyone in Hell submit, for them to follow him."

They... weren’t only reckless.

They were madmen!