Worldsoul

Interlude

He was sitting in prayer outside the beehive hut when the message arrived. At first he thought, with wonder, that it was a meteorite, streaking down out of the sunlit sky, but soon it resolved itself into the form of a dove, alight.

“Well, well,” the Messenger said, aloud. He waited until the dove had set down on the low wall and reached out to take the parchment, only slightly singed, from around its leg. Once he had done so, the dove crumbled into ash, presumably remanifesting back in Hell.

“Thank you,” the Messenger breathed. His heart lurched against his ribs, an unfamiliar sensation.

The note was brief.

I’m bringing someone to see you. A soul in peril. Why am I concerned? She is my charge. I will be grateful for your help.

It was signed: Gremory, Duke of Hell.

He stared at the note for a long time before folding it and placing it within his robe. Memories of the war came to the fore, the long struggle. Good and evil. Darkness and light. But is anything ever that simple?