The massive gates groaned open with a loud screech.
Beyond the threshold lay something that defied every expectation Daemon had harbored about the afterlife.
Where he had anticipated fire and brimstone, instead sprawled a city that seemed the residents were still in the 20th century.
Skyscrapers reaching toward a perpetually overcast sky, neon signs flickering in languages both familiar and alien, streets lined with yellow cabs and hot dog vendors.
The Mirror City, as the sign above the gate proclaimed in bold, art deco lettering.
Lilith stepped forward, her red suit pristine despite the journey, and gestured toward the urban landscape with one gloved hand.
"Welcome to the Mirror city, home to the Eclipse's Peak, the immigration headquarters of the underworld. Follow me."
The assembled souls pressed closer together, forming a tight cluster of fear and uncertainty.
A woman near the front shook her head violently, her earlier bravado evaporated. "No. No, I'm not going in there."
"I'd rather take my chances out here," agreed a man who was shivering and making efforts to hide his nakedness.
Lilith's expression didn't change, but something cold flickered behind her wire-rimmed glasses.
"Suit yourselves. Though I should mention that Trio makes regular patrols of this shoreline. Something about keeping the border clean."
She examined her gloves with theatrical interest. "Personally, I don't mind. Hell has been experiencing something of an overpopulation problem lately."
A distant howl echoed across the white sand, carried on winds that tasted of sulfur and despair.
The sound sent every soul on the beach into immediate panic. Most rushed toward the gate, pushing and shoving in their desperation to escape whatever approached from the darkness behind them.
Only a handful remained frozen in place, paralyzed by the choice between certain terror and unknown horror.
Another growl, closer this time, and accompanied by the sound of massive paws striking sand.
Two figures broke from the group and sprinted back toward the river, their forms quickly swallowed by the perpetual twilight. The remaining holdouts stood their ground for exactly three more seconds before their nerve broke entirely.
Daemon found himself caught between impulses.
Every instinct screamed at him to run, either toward the city or back to the water, he wasn't sure which. But curiosity, that fatal flaw that had gotten him into trouble so many times in life, kept his feet planted on the sand.
Lilith's attention fixed on him, her head tilting slightly to one side. "You look familiar."
Daemon managed a laugh, though it came out more nervous than he'd intended. "I was quite popular in the above world. Maybe you caught me on the evening news."
"I doubt that." Her tone suggested she found his attempt at humor as appealing as week-old fish. "Tell me, what did you do up there that made you so... notable?"
"Does it matter now?"
Instead of answering, she studied him with the intensity of a scientist examining a particularly interesting specimen.
"Are you going to stand there all night, or are you coming?"
"Are you a demon?" The question slipped out before Daemon could stop himself.
Lilith's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "I'm the first demon. All the others are merely pale imitations, offspring of the fallen angels who thought they could improve on perfection."
She turned and began walking toward the gate. "Coming?"
Daemon fell into step beside her, squinting through his poor eyesight at the city beyond.
The architecture seemed to shift and blur at the edges, as if reality itself couldn't quite decide what it wanted to be. "You don't look like what I expected. No horns, no scaly skin, no pitchfork."
"Those rumors are all Nbat's handiwork," she said dismissively.
"Who's Nbat?"
But Lilith was already gone, having teleported from beside him to the front of the remaining crowd in the blink of an eye.
The casual display of power sent a chill down Daemon's spine. Whatever she was, whatever she represented, she operated on a level far beyond human comprehension.
"This way," she called back to the souls, leading them through streets that seemed familiar yet wrong.
The buildings were the right height, the cars the right shape, but everything felt slightly off, like looking at the world through a funhouse mirror that reflected truth at just the wrong angle.
They passed newspaper stands selling headlines in languages that hurt to read, diners where the patrons sat motionless over plates of food that steamed without giving off heat, and movie theaters advertising films that had never been made.
Daemon's vision, already poor, seemed to worsen in the strange light that filtered down from the overcast sky. He found himself squinting constantly, trying to bring the world into focus.
The procession wound through increasingly narrow streets until they arrived at a small, dark bar squeezed between two massive apartment buildings.
The structure seemed to exist in a state of barely controlled collapse, its neon sign flickering erratically and casting sickly colors across the assembled souls.
A dwarf stood before the entrance, a leather-bound tome the size of a small table balanced on a wooden stand before him. His fingers moved across the pages with practiced efficiency, and when he spoke, his voice carried despite its quiet tone.
"Abdullah Aziz."
A man near the front of the group stepped forward, his movements nervous, and walked through the bar's entrance.
Another man handed him clothes at the entrance. A grey gown.
The moment he crossed the threshold, he simply... vanished.
"Paul Wilkins."
Another soul disappeared into the darkness beyond the door.
"Barry Anderson. Lauren Hoijund. Akinbanjo Clinton."
One by one, the dead filed into the bar and were consumed by whatever lay within.
Daemon watched the process with growing unease, his hand unconsciously moving to the paper still hidden in his pocket.
The dwarf's voice had a hypnotic quality, each name pronounced with the same flat intonation.
"When your name is called," Lilith said, appearing beside him again without warning, "enter the bar. Don't hesitate, don't look back, and don't try to run. The process works better when you cooperate."
"What happens inside?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
The names continued: "Margaret Chen. Robert Fitzgerald. Sarah Thompson."
Each soul that entered never came back out. The bar seemed to swallow them whole, leaving no trace they had ever existed. Daemon's palms began to sweat despite the cool air. Whatever this place was, it wasn't a simple immigration checkpoint.
"Marcus Rodriguez. Jennifer Walsh. Thomas.."
The dwarf paused, squinting at his book. He flipped a page, then another, his brow furrowing in concentration.
"Problem?" Lilith asked, her tone suggesting she already knew the answer.
"Name's not clear. Looks like... Daemon Sinners?"
Every muscle in Daemon's body tensed. He glanced at Lilith, searching her face for some hint of what awaited him beyond that door. Her expression remained perfectly neutral, offering no comfort or warning.
"That's me," he said, surprised by how steady his voice sounded.
The dwarf nodded and made a mark in his book. "Proceed."
Daemon stepped toward the bar's entrance, each footfall echoing in the narrow alley.
The door stood open, revealing nothing but absolute darkness beyond. No sound emerged from within, no hint of what had happened to the souls who had entered before him.
He paused at the threshold, one hand on the door frame. The wood felt ancient beneath his palm, worn smooth by countless hands that had made this same journey. Behind him, he could hear Lilith's breathing, steady and patient.
She wasn't going to rush him, wasn't going to force him forward. The choice, like everything else in this place, had to be his.
Daemon thought about the paper in his pocket, about the life he'd left behind, about the mistakes that had brought him to this moment.
Then he stepped into the darkness.
The floor disappeared beneath his feet immediately. He fell, plummeting through black space that seemed to go on forever, his stomach lurching as gravity took hold. Wind rushed past his ears, drowning out his own startled cry.
The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him completely was Lilith's face, framed in the doorway above, wearing an expression that might have been pity.
Then there was nothing but the fall, and the growing certainty that whatever waited at the bottom might be far worse than anything he could imagine.