A chill crept into the air as Zemashis followed Rafael through the catacombs of Dis. The only access was through the outer towers that marked the corners of the city's walls, which limited the chances of being spotted. The passage was dark and damp, and stank of rotting flesh and a distinct tinge of rust.
Zemashis gagged as he stepped over a corpse, its empty eyes crawling with maggots. Many such bodies littered the floor in the tunnels beneath the city. Demons were consistantly locked in conflict with one another, and when one killed another, often for claims of territory or dominion, the loser's body was disposed of here. There were those who watched over the catacombs, but the tunnels cover such a vast area, and made up such a complex network of twisting tunnels that they would occasionally get lost, often adding to the problem. There were areas that had never been explored before, leading down far below the surface; into what, nobody knew for certain.
Zemashis felt lost and nauseated, cramped so far below ground in a dimly lit tunnel filled with bodies and gods only know what else. He kept close to Rafael, who had kept silent since entering the catacombs. He began to wonder if his friend really knew where he was going, though he would never say so out loud.
Rafael slowed as he approached an intersection, motioning Zemashis to follow closely. Zemashis crept close to Rafael, who peered around the corner to see if anyone was there. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he ducked to the left, into a collapsed section of the tunnel that seemed to lead downward. "We're directly underneath Damien's palace right now," Rafael whispered. Zemashis kept close to his guide, looking around himself. It certainly didn't look like this was anywhere near the heart of the city. One would think the Lord of Hell would better maintain something so close to home, but then, this was a long way underground, and Zemashis had to wonder if Damien knew about it at all.
Rafael crawled through an opening in the collapsed rock, barely noticeable, but large enough to squeeze through. He offered his hand to Zemashis and pulled him through, the fallen angel tumbling against the far wall. He coughed as a cloud of dust rose around him, the tunnel abviously having been disused for quite some time. He stood slowly, brushing the dust from his clothes and covering his mouth to filter the dust. Rafael continued on into the tunnel, which became a steep slope leading down into the unlit depths of the realm.
"Where are you taking me?" Zemashis finally asked, unable to hold his silence any longer.
Rafael looked over his shoulder, his eyes shining slightly in the darkness. "You'll see soon enough. We're almost there"
Zemashis shuddered, wrapping his wings tightly around himself. He trodded down the slope, his footsteps echoing in the darkness, small pockets of dust stirring beneath his feet. He could feel a chill in the air, gnawing at him as he followed Rafael deeper and deeper into the darkness.
This far beneath the surface, Damien's influence didn't seem to penetrate. It's deterioration was more from disuse than his usual MO. More than that, it was colder here than anyplace else in hell. Zemashis could see his breath before his face, and the sound of dripping water told him there were likely ice formations. He pondered the limits of Damien's power, and as he did so, it became lighter within the tunnel. Looking up, Zemashis noticed faintly glowing lichen growing on the cieling, granting enough light for him to see around the tunnel itself. As he had suspected, there was ice on the walls, and water formed small pools on the floor, which reflected the soft blue light of the lichen. It was unlike anything else in this forsaken realm, at least that he had ever seen. Rafael called to him, and Zmashis focused his attention forward.
Rafael was standing next to an intricate stone door carved directly into the wall at the end of the tunnel, ringed with the same glowing lichen. Zemashis stood in wonder, staring in disbelief that such beauty and subtlety could exist in a place like hell.
"Are you going to stand there gawking all day, or what? Lady Lucifer is expecting you!"

Zemashis stood in awe of the grand hall before him. Through the door in the cavern wall, it almost seemed like another place entirely. Tall collumns carved into the very walls themselves, the walls filed down to smooth marble, over which hung magnificent silken tapestries depicting the history of heaven and hell: the romance and rejection that began the ageless conflict, Lucifer's banishment, and her retreat underground. A luxurious four-post bed, dressed with blue silk sheets and hung with a lace curtain, dominated one corner of the hall, while numerous armchairs ringed a circular table cut from cherry wood. A hearth covered most of the back wall, a cold blue fire licking its edges. Soft blue light washed over it all, and a peculiar chill gripped the air. It was almost unnatural, to be so very cold and yet so dry this deep under the earth.
Seated at a mahogany drawing table, her back to the room, was Lady Lucifer, her diminuative frame wreathed in a long black gown, blue roses adorning the flowing garment. She seemed so very small and pale, it was a wonder she still lived at all. In her hand she held a pen, a slender ebony rod with silver spout, scratching idly at several papers in front of her. She didn't seem to notice the intrusion, or even to care.
Rafael stood with Zemashis in silence, the crackling of the fire and the scratching of her pen the only sounds in the chamber. Zemashis glanced again about the room, visibly on edge, as if waiting for something to strike against him at any time. Nothing came, however, and after a time, the sound of Lucifer's pen ceased, and her hands folded neatly on her lap.
When she finally spoke, her voice, though slight and delicate, filled the room, a tranquil, gentle voice that reminded Zemashis of better times long past. She was the same as he remembered her.
"Thank you, Wrath. I trust you had no trouble from my son in bringing our guest here?"
Rafael crossed his arm over his chest and bowed low to the ground, his eyes closed. "No, my Lady. The Lord Damien did not track us here."
Lucifer backed her seat away from the table and stood, turning to face her guests. She stood with such refined posture, her spine straight as a pole, but she was still much shorter than either Zemashis or Rafael. Her gown dragged on the polished marble floor, and she almost seemed to be floating rather than standing.
"Good. I don't believe I'm ready to show myself again on the surface." She smiled softly. "Please, stand up Rafael. You and I are equals here."
Rafael straightened, his back stiffening as he stood at attention. Lucifer shook her head, still smiling as she crossed over to him. She touched his arm, just above the elbow, and he softened, seeming to relax. Then, Lady Lucifer turned her attention to Zemashis.
"It's been a very long time since I've seen your face. My, how you've changed over the years." She reached up and placed a hand against his cheek. She was cold as death, but still held the softness of a lady. "If Rafael had not confirmed it, I would scarcely believe it was you."
Zemashis fumbled for words for a moment before managing a response. "Lady Lucifer, it has been far too long, and yet, you are the same as the last time I saw you."
Her hand lingered, though the smile faded from her face. Thinly veiled sadness hung behind her eyes. "I wish it were so. But things are not always as they appear on the surface."
"I.. I'm sorry, my Lady, I didn't mean.."
Lucifer shook her head. "No. It's alright. Time has been unkind to this old heart of mine. But it is good to see you." She smiled once more and withdrew her hand, outstretching her arm toward the round table. "Please, come sit, I've just put on some tea."
Zemashis and Rafael followed as Lucifer led them to the circular facet that made up the Lady's sitting room. Rafael stood beside his seat, and Zemashis did the same, allowing Lady Lucifer to take her seat first before sitting themselves. Lucifer's body seemed to fold around the chair, her legs, still wrapped in her gown, curling down beneath the legs. Zemashis couldn't help but make note of how soft the cushions felt, and let himself sink into them. It was a welcome change from the cavern outside. In the center of the table, a pot stood on a burning plate, as many cups resting on as many saucers as there were seats around the table. Zemashis wondered how often the Lady had company, and just who she kept company with, though he did so in silence.
Lucifer lifted the pot, pouring into three of the cups a sweet, perfume-smelling tea, the scent of which drifted to all corners of the chamber. She handed a saucer to each of her guests, and they sat in silence as the Lady took her first sip. Zemashis held his cup before his nose, taking in its gentle aroma, before sampling the ochre liquid. Sweet did not even begin to describe it; a world of flavors blended elegantly into one, nameable only as Nectar. Zemashis had drank of this once before, but it had been such a long time he had almost forgotten. Now, it came flooding back, and he sank deeper into the cushions, his every muscle relaxed.
"So, then," Lady Lucifer spoke, her eyes on Zemashis. "If I may ask, what brings you to Hell?"