Despite popular opinion, Hell is cold. Its freezing. The ' Pit Of Fire' was just the humidity if the upper levels clashing with the surface. After that it's nothing but a wall of poisonous freezing cold air. The upper levels were just for show, the strawberry icing on top of the never ending cake of torture. True Hell. The one that imprisons its people who's only reality is Itself. Brutally torments it's predecessor and leaves nothing with the ability to rule it. Nothing to keep that balance.

It was cold.

So fucking cold.

It's the thing that gives its victims their eternal fear. A fear that will never be forgotten or forgiven or faught against. A fear that completely destroys its victims minds and tangles and twists its reality until all that is left is basic, inevitable-unstoppable death. It tugs and tears and tortures-leaving nothing but a bloody mess of blood, tears, and death.

Nothing survives Hell. Whatever goes in, never comes out the same state. Whatever goes in alive, comes out dead. Whatever goes in dead-wishing for dead- comes out alive and kicking, just a little more...dead in a sense.

Similar to War.

A horrible, powerful, brutal thing. Something that destroyed people from the outside in, and the inside out. Something that no creature human, mortal, immortal, could never get used to. It scars its soldiers with vivid memories of love and life, while survivals claw then grips at its mind, piercing its brain. And again, it leaves its victims with that stone claw still attached.

It never leaves. The torment never stops.

***

Aleksandr felt the Weight of the chains weight down his wrists. Each of them had been chained and placed in the cage. Aleksandr knew this wouldn't be good.

"Well what do we have here boys?" One of their captors cackled, "Three elder vampires all in one cage? I do say, there are only two left now. We must find them and we will finally be able to get rid of these blasted blood suckers!" The other humans that overflowed the halls roared in agreement.

Aleksandr felt like he was paralysed. He couldn't move. He couldn't talk- he adamantly refused to. He couldn't do anything- He couldn't even keep his own brothers out of danger.

That was what it took for Aleksandr to break free from his terrifying mental entrapment and demand he speak to the leader. The leader, Killian Wicker, a man of his forties with an arrogant sneer and scars showing just how hated he truly was, then had Aleksandr dragged from the cell and placed in a separate room to speak to.

Aleksandr refused to adhere to Killian Wickers demands. He wanted the whereabouts of the vampire clan hot spot. Aleksandr had snarled back that he would never find out. So, he was punished for refusal. They had him stripped and heavily tortured, whipped, stabbed, drained. The inside of his hands were torn open. And to top it off, they then forced him into a vat of water, dragged towels across his half sealed wounds- though they still dripped with blood- and forced him to redress.

***

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