Hello! Aidan and Daria here, with the first Chapter of Proelium Inferno, a fictitious take on the Biblical stories of Heaven and Hell. We're writing this together, using Daria's amazing world-building and my plot ideas, to hopefully make a better story than either of us could make on our own. We hope you enjoy!

 

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The hall was long and well furnished, with tapestries streaming down the marble pillars like waterfalls of fabric. A table, carved out of a slab of dark stone, ran the length of the room, with straight-backed wooden chairs – 6 in all – spaced equally along it's length. A final seat, more like a throne than anything else, sat at the end of it all, looking down upon the hall as ruler of it's domain.

 Samael stood at the top of his hall, waiting quietly for proceedings to begin. His father, Azrael, sat upon the throne-chair. Samael was relatively certain it had a proper name, but he didn't know it and he wasn't about to break the silence to ask.

 Three men sat along the table, the last remnants of the Seraphim Council. Zaphrael sat almost sideways on his chair, his hands clasped behind his head, one foot resting on the table and a smirk drawn across his lips. Lance had his arms folded, but was waiting patiently for Azrael to speak. Solomon was scowling, as usual, his fingers interlocking with such force over the table that his knuckles turned white.

 At last, Azrael spoke. His voice was soft, but carried with it a sense of authority. It was a voice that expected no argument. “I understand we are all busy working for the light that is our Lord, so I will get straight to the point.” He paused, waiting for the council to pay full attention. “Lucifer is gone. We don't know how and we don't know where, but he has disappeared. His family and those loyal to him are managing to cover it up for now, but it is only a matter of time before word gets out. When that happens, Hell could face a revolt.”

 “My brother always had a penchant for adventure,” Lance said, voice smooth as silk. “I expect he'll turn up in a few days like nothing happened.”
 “We have considered this,” countered Solomon. “Whenever he has done this before, his subjects have been aware and his daughter officially granted the regency for his absence. Not so this time; he seems to have left without a trace.”

 “Perhaps they are lying. What else would attract this much attention from Heaven? He could be waiting for us to attack, then emerge just in time to strike us down.”

 Zaphrael, who had been silent until then, tapped his foot against the table. The others in the room stopped talking and looked at him. Solomon glowered at the interruption, but only got a cheeky grin in response. “I say we attack anyway,” Zaphrael drawled. “If Lucifer is in hiding, them surely the Lord will grant us victory over the sinners. If he has actually disappeared, then Hell is weakened. Powerless. We are still sore from the thrashing they gave us last time – the common angel will rally to the cause. We return Lilith to Adam, throw her children in with poor, dear Castiel – I'm sure he'd be glad for some company after twenty long years – and bring Lucifer to the justice of God, when and if he emerges from wherever he is.”

 “I – I don't think it will be as easy as that,” Samael said, suprising even himself. It was an unspeakable crime to interrupt the Seraphim at council, and even as he spoke he could feel his father's steely gaze upon him. He continued before he was reprimanded. “We'd have to travel down the river Styx first, and the ferryman would likely alert Hell to our approach. Even if we got past the Black Gate, Lucifer's children – his daughter, especially – are said to hold tremendous power. Even Lilith is said to be able to kill an angel. If God wills it, them we will win, but most of us will be slaughtered trying. We – we...” he stuttered and stopped, not sure what to add. He went a bright shade of red.

 Azrael watched him for a moment, his eyes promising future punishment, before turning back to the council. “My son speaks the truth. What have you to say to this, Zaphrael?”

 The Seraphim smiled. “I'm sure your son is overestimating the power of Mashvia and her siblings, and underestimating the power of our Lord. Rumour is a powerful weapon in the hands of experts. But now I suggest we send a party to hell, under the pretence of  orchestrating a new era of peace, to gauge Hell's power without Lucifer to guide them. We mass our armies outside the Styx, and when you return we will know whether to strike.”
 “'I'?” Azrael asked, “you propose I go alone into Hell?”

 “No, no,” Zaphrael said quickly, “We send Adam, Eve, a handful of angels, Samael and, of course, you. After all, what would intimidate Hell more than the Angel of Death himself knocking upon their door?”   

 

 

The Bar was packed. Officially known as the Devil's horn, though everyone just called it 'The Bar', it was one of the most popular pubs in the back streets of Leyan. The building itself was tiny, and yet  almost two dozen people were milling around, drinking and laughing. Mashvia was doing none of those things.

 Three men surrounded her, looking ready to pounce. She knew two of them; twin brothers Valhorn and Belberth, heirs to their father's vast fortune and estates. Valhorn was slim, but well muscled, and carried with him a sense of overpowering arrogance. His brother Belberth wasn't as strong as him, but there was something in the way he looked at Mashvia that she didn't like. He was the taller of the pair though, and quick on his feet.

 She didn't know the third man, but he was big. Very big. He had to duck down to avoid hitting his head off the ceiling, and his fists were the size of large cabbages.

 They moved, and so did she. Valhorn ran at her, and she grabbed the empty chair behind her and swung it into his face. He went stumbling backwards, crashing into the bar.

 The big guy was now behind her. He wrapped his arms around her chest and squeezed, lifting her into the air. She slammed her head backwards, into his nose, and he screamed like a newborn and dropped her.

 Belberth looked at her warily, them drew a slim knife of shining steel. The people around them were taking bets on the outcome now. Belbeth leaned forward and swung, and Mashvia leaned back, the knife slicing through the air where her head had just been. He swung again and she dodged to the side this time, grabbing his arm. She spun into him and, with her free arm, cracked her elbow into his jaw. He went down like a sack of ugly potatoes.
 The big guy was shaking his head, blood leaking from his nose. He looked angry.

 “Back for more?” she asked with a teasing grin. A few chuckles escaped those surrounding them. He roared and charged, swinging his fists everywhere in a desperate attempt to hit her. She ducked under the first and dodged the second, but was only a matter of time before her luck ran out. His fist connected with her face and she fell backwards into an occupied table, the wood breaking in two and silver coins flying everywhere. The occupants of the now deceased table backed away as the big guy looked down at her, a stupid grin on his stupid face. She scowled and kicked him in the groin, hard. His eyes bulged and his grin slipped away as he slowly fell sideways, a soft moan escaping his lips. She got up and clicked her spine, only to be punched in the face again.
 She didn't fall this time, and saw Valhorn backing away across the room, smiling. He charged, and so did she. Stupid. He was a grown demon, and she was a seventeen year-old girl. He slammed into her and she fell, the breath escaping from her lungs.

 He flipped her onto her back and held down her arms his his hands, moving his face close to hers. He opened his mouth to say something, so she spat in his face. He lifted a hand to wipe at his eyes, and with her now free hand she helped him clean it up with her fist. He fell back, stumbling to his feet as he did so, before tripping over a chair leg and falling. He didn't get up. Mashvia took short, sharp breaths, trying to get her airflow back to normal, as she looked around.
 Belberth was standing, looking annoyed. Then he grinned, laughed, and stuck out his hand. “Well fought,” he congratulated. Mashvia smiled and took his hand, but as he went to shake she pushed him as hard as she could. He cracked his head on the edge of a table and fell, unconscious.

 The other occupants of the bar began to clap, and Mashvia took a dramatic bow, smiling. She threw a bag of gold to the barkeep, mouthing 'for the damage' over the noise, and headed for the door.

 Amand was waiting for her outside, leaning against the brick wall. He shook his head in amusement when he saw her. “Been keeping busy, I see.” His gaze settled on her lip.

 She frowned and touched it, found it split. She wiped the blood away and leaned in, kissing him. When they parted she grinned, then took his hand and led him down the street.

 

 

The city was busy that night. The anniversary of the last war with Heaven was coming up, and spirits were high in Hell. There was much drinking, laughing, whoring and all-round merriment in Leyan, the capital of Lucifer's domain. Mashvia and Amand wound their way past bustling streets filled with jugglers, acrobats, sword-swallowers and card readers, each making a fortune from the drunk and disorderly crowds. There were fights, of course, but everyone was far too jolly to do serious harm, and combatants congratulated each other on well landed punches and feints. Shop windows were decorated to the extreme, with owners showing off their finest wares. Mashvia was tempted to join in with the revelry, but she knew she was expected back at the palace.

 As they approached the gates, two guards halted their path. She knew them.

 “Identification, please,” said the first guard, sounding bored.

 “Carlo, if you don't get out of my way right this second I will pull your organs out through your mouth and make you eat them.”

 He paused, them stood aside. His voice shook slightly as he called, “Open the gate!” 
 
 

The palace was a sombre place in comparison to the city outside. Festivities had been put on hold in the royal household after Lucifer's disappearance, though those who went out to enjoy themselves in the city hid it well. The corridors were unnaturally quiet. Servants scurried to and fro, not bothering to make conversation with Mashvia and Amand as they passed. There were a few decorations here and there, but they were more eerie than anything else. The silence was cold and unforgiving.

 They found Lilith with her sons in the council chamber, discussing something. They all looked around as Mashvia and Amand entered.

 “Your shirt is undone,” observed Xander, her eldest brother. Mashvia blushed and quickly did it up. She saw Amand smirking and elbowed him in the ribs.

 “We have received a letter from the Seraphim Council,” announced Lilith. There was little love between Mashvia and her mother, but there was a mutual respect between them. “Heaven has assembled a company of Angels and is sending them here, to propose an era of peace.”

 “Do we believe them?” Mashvia asked, “How can we be sure they are telling the truth? For all we know, they know Lucifer is gone and are coming to see if the rumours are true.”

 “That is the conclusion we have already come to,” cut in Craven. “We had hoped you would have something new to add to the conversation, little sister.” Mashvia scowled.

 “We can keep them occupied,” suggested Amand, his Spanish accent giving a certain quality to his voice. “If we busy them in the palace, and only allow them to see certain areas of the city, they shall not see weakness.”

 “That will require careful planning,” added Lilith, “but it may work. I can handle Azrael, maybe Adam and Eve – It's been so long since I saw my old friends.” Her voice was dry and sarcastic.

 “Samael should be easy. I'll take him,” Mashvia offered.

 “Your sons and I can keep the others occupied,” Amand said to Lilith.

 She nodded. “All right then. I'll arrange to have them watched if they request a look around the city. They arrive in two days.” Without even a 'good luck', Lilith stalked from the room, the others trailing behind soon after. Only Mashvia and Amand remained.

 “What do you mean, 'Samael should be easy'?” asked Amand, faking an incredulous tone.

 Mashvia laughed. “If you're not happy with it, we can switch places. I'm sure your powers of seduction are just as good as mine.” He punched her arm, but she only laughed again.