Once upon a time, many, many decades ago, existed a world, a dimension surrounded in black mists and red sands, and where one race dominated: demons. Their world was a large island, circled twice by the most impressive barriers: the first was the Styx River and the second, the huge black cliffs of Tartarus, efficiently imprisoning demons inside. This world had a name, the kind of name that terrifies anyone knowing what it means: Gehenna.

If one looked at this huge, roughly circular island, he could without any trouble see a gigantic crack in the very earth, the Erebus Rift, separating in two the southern part of the island. At the bottom end of it, deep in the shadows of the cliffs, there stood a dark city, built with the black stone of the very cliffs, and topped with the arrow of a great tower. The city's name was the Pit, capital of the Shadow Realm.

The tower in itself was like a black needle. Built in black stone, delicately veined of silver and mithril, obsidian tiles and dark, shining metal twisting around it like the vines of an unknown plant, it rose, almost invisible in the surrounding darkness but no less awe-inspiring. It was the home of the city's lord, the most elusive demon of Gehenna, the King of Shadows himself.

Let's come in, discretely. Once you opened the great double doors, you could see the inside had black, dark green and blue themes, floors covered by grey rugs that led to several doors. One to the right opened to a flight of stairs. Red fire shone in the candelabras fixed to the walls. Let's go upstairs, to the Master's quarters.

After passing a thick, wooden black door and climbing more stairs that it should be possible, there stood a light grey curtain hiding an equally grey door, with blue-tinted hinges and handle. Past the door, there stood a huge room that obviously served as a bedroom, and an office, and a library. The walls were of black stone, just like the rest of the castle, but were randomly covered by dark-colored wallpaper. The ceiling was lighted by countless fist-sized blue and green lights, encased in glass globes that moved eerily in the air in an alien ballet of light. The whole floor was covered by fluffy rugs -The Pit is a very cold place, because the Gehennian sun doesn't reach it-, and a strange black and red-tipped flame was burning silently in a vast stone hearth. Large panoramic windows allowed quite an incredible view on the surroundings, on the towering walls of the Tartarus Cliffs splitting in half and on the insanely huge mouth of the Erebus Rift, and on the side of the black cliff, the deadly Stairs shining like a streak of quicksilver. On the East, far, far away from the city, if you had good eyes and if the weather was kind, you could have a glimpse of the greyish black, always misty waters of the Sea of Souls: Lethe. And of course, there was a splendid view of the city itself. Well... Not that it was that great a view: the city was mostly empty. One could see a random banshee here, a couple werewolves there, and of course, the occasionnal CoalTar -the only demons dumb and small enough to brave the Steps without triggering any kind of trap. Yes, the Pit truly was a phantom city, where not even demons dared to come.

I took a circular glance at the room. A single bed with a fluffy mattress, a huge desk on the right, littered with various papers and files, a pile of blank canvases -looking slightly dusty- a couch with too many cushions on it -some were actually on the floor-, shelves filled with more books and scrolls that one could read in a lifetime, and on the walls, enough drawings and paintings to completely conceal the stone behind, each one made with bright colours and exquisite detail, depicting various scenes and landscapes. On the wall in front of the desk was a big map of Gehenna, surrounded by pieces of paper scotched to it. It looked like the lands surrounding the mainland had been explored and painstakingly drawn as detailed as possible. Names were scribbled in red, sometimes barred multiples times and rewritten. Some places were circled in green, and others cleanly barred with the mention 'dangerous'.

With a sigh and a forlorn glance, the figure -that had been standing in the middle of the room for quite some time, mind you- grabbed a backpack from a corner, and put in it several items from the drawers of his desk: he picked a leather-bound book from a bookshelf, a little mirror incrusted with runes from the nightstand -it's twin was pinned on the wall above his bed-, a handful of pencils and other writing instruments, a pouch filled with food, and then shoved the whole thing in the backpack. He then crouched next to the bed and pulled out from under it a glowing blue orb. The globe in itself was a simple spun glass sphere, it's beauty residing in the bright sky blue flame imprisonned inside it, burning itself in an entrancing cycle around a three-inch long feather sparkling red in the mesmerising azure light.. The figure quickly covered it in a black cloth before putting it delicately in the bag. He then reached under a pillow and put the ornate box that was there in a side pocket before rising to his feet again. His long, nimble fingers brushed against the translucid, finely cut gem tied at his neck, that sent a sparkle at each move he did, and sighed deeply, looking at the map above his desk. Quickly, he tore it from the walland threw it into the fire, that started devouring it greedily. Then he turned round, and exited the room without looking back.

As he was descending the stairs, a nearby light revealed a deep green eye, and sent a sparkle to the single tear rolling down his pale cheek. The sound the teardrop made when it hit the ground was like the ring of a knell, cracking my heart as I left the only place I had ever dared to call home... without any chance of ever coming back.

-Kage's journal, entry 1