The group’s journey from the fiery Realm of Wrath to the icy depths of despair was marked by an unsettling transformation. The searing heat gave way to a bitter cold that bit through their clothes, chilling them to the bone. The landscape was stark and lifeless—vast plains of ice stretched endlessly under a sky of swirling gray clouds.

“Welcome,” Selene said, her voice echoing eerily in the stillness, “to the Realm of Despair. Here, the souls who succumbed to hopelessness and self-pity find their penance.”

Jack wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. “It’s freezing. How do souls survive here?”

“They don’t,” Selene replied. “Not in the way you think. The cold doesn’t merely affect their bodies—it pierces their very essence, forcing them to confront the emptiness they carried in life.”

Ahead of them, the group saw figures encased in ice. Some were frozen in contorted positions, their faces etched with anguish, while others appeared eerily calm, their expressions devoid of emotion.

Emma’s voice was barely a whisper. “They’re trapped?”

Selene nodded. “Yes, but it’s more than physical entrapment. These souls are imprisoned by their own despair. In life, they allowed hopelessness to consume them, and now, in death, they face the void they created.”

Claire knelt by one of the frozen figures, peering into the ice. “This person… they look so young. Was their despair really so great?”

Selene’s expression softened, if only slightly. “Despair knows no age, Claire. It can strike the old and weary or the young and unfulfilled. It is indiscriminate and relentless.”

As they moved further into the realm, the group came upon a massive glacier that seemed to pulse with a dark energy. Atop it stood a figure clad in a flowing gown of frost, her pale skin glimmering like the surface of a frozen lake. Her eyes, sharp and unyielding, bore the weight of countless lifetimes.

Selene gestured toward her. “This is Lady Avariel, the Princess of Despair. She embodies the emptiness that consumes those who surrender to hopelessness.”

Avariel descended from the glacier with an otherworldly grace, her voice cold and resonant. “Mortals in my domain? How unusual.”

Selene inclined her head. “They are here to learn, Lady Avariel. I thought your realm would provide a valuable lesson.”

Avariel studied the group, her icy gaze piercing through them. “Despair is not a simple thing to understand. It is not always born of tragedy—it can grow from the mundane, the overlooked, the unseen. Do you truly wish to comprehend it?”

Jack stepped forward, his voice steady despite the cold. “We do. We want to understand everything about this place.”

Avariel’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Then look.”

She waved her hand, and the glacier beneath her shimmered. The group saw visions within the ice—fragments of lives that had ended in despair. A man drowning in debt, a woman abandoned by those she loved, a child who never felt wanted. Each story was a thread in the vast tapestry of suffering that made up this realm.

Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s… heartbreaking.”

“Indeed,” Avariel said. “Despair feeds on isolation, on the belief that one’s pain is unique and insurmountable. That is its power—and its lie.”

Tom, still skeptical but visibly shaken, asked, “But why keep them here? What’s the point of making them relive this?”

“Because,” Avariel said, her tone sharp, “Hell is not just a place of punishment—it is a mirror. These souls must face the truth of their existence. Only then can they find release, or transformation.”

Jack frowned. “Transformation? Into what?”

Selene interjected, her voice calm. “Not all who enter Hell remain souls. Some evolve, becoming demons or spirits that serve the balance of this realm. But despair is a stubborn chain—it rarely allows for such change.”

Avariel’s gaze lingered on Jack. “You carry questions, mortal. Questions born of your own struggles. Be wary—they could lead you here one day.”

Jack swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her words.

As the group prepared to leave, Avariel raised her hand, and a shard of ice formed in her palm. She handed it to Jack. “Take this. It is a fragment of my realm—a reminder that even in the coldest despair, there is strength to be found.”

Jack accepted the shard, its chill biting into his skin. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

As they departed the Realm of Despair, Jack glanced back at the frozen figures, their faces hauntingly familiar. He couldn’t shake the feeling that their stories weren’t so different from the struggles of the living.

Walking beside Selene, he asked, “Is there hope for them? For the souls trapped here?”

Selene’s expression was unreadable. “Perhaps. But hope is not something easily reclaimed. It must be fought for, even in the depths of despair.”

As the icy plains gave way to a new, shifting landscape, Jack couldn’t help but wonder: how much of his own life had been shaped by the very forces he was now witnessing? And how much of Hell’s torment was simply a reflection of the human condition?