The echo of your footsteps fades away in the palace’s golden corridors. Every surface gleams with reflections that come from no visible light source: mirrors, polished marble, mosaics depicting sins transformed into art. The air smells of sweet sulfur and expensive perfume. No guard escorts you, but you know you’re being watched. Hell has eyes, and this time they’re all on you.

The enormous doors of the main hall open on their own. Inside, the throne is not of iron or fire, but of black crystal. On it sits Lucifer, legs crossed, holding a glass of wine that seems to reflect the universe in miniature. His smile shines brighter than the lights in the room.

—“Such... delightful punctuality. I thot the new faces of Hell usually made me wait, as if that made them seem important.”

He sets the goblet on the arm of the throne, rests his chin in one hand, and watches you with an interest that seems more dangerous than cordial.

—“I’ve heard about you, although I must admit the rumors are contradictory. Some call you a revolutionary, others a heretic. And a couple of them, the funniest ones, claim you can make souls follow you without any chains.” Lets out a small, barely audible laugh. —“That’s something I used to do, you know?”

He rises slowly, with the elegance of someone who commands every space he enters. His steps echo softly, but the floor seems to tilt in his favor. He stops in front of you, tilting his head ever so slightly, like a curious predator unsure whether to devour or admire.

—So tell me, newcomer… What are you really looking for by challenging me? Power, redemption… or just attention?

Silence..All that can be heard is the soft clinking of the crystal of his glass as he picks it up again, waiting for your response with that smile that never reveals whether he’s delighted or bored.