Fortress of the First Circle

Chapter 29: Fortress of the First Circle

 

 

           

 

His dexterity, wearing thin, resurfaced and he stood up. Glaring over the entirety of the mansion. It stood at three stories. Made up of grey stone blocks with white molding. Portions were white wood with a roof of gray shingles. He’d no idea how long it may have stood, but it hadn’t dwindled since its construction. Trevor snapped out of it. Not a moment too soon either, he read the sign perched between the stairs of the gigantic front porch that read “Greeley’s Estate”. The only place around, so of course it was. Trevor wanted to make sure that there was no danger lurking within the walls of his power’s keeper’s place of residence. Like he had some sort of premonition, Trevor saw from the opening hallway, an office through wide windows. Rife with demons appearing to do much of nothing. All frozen in time. Trevor scampered to the first door on the left and looked at the placard that displayed the name Greeley.

            He tried to enter. Once again, locked. Trevor was unsure of what to do. The house was a maze of hallways and doors, but he noticed it was set-up somewhat like the prison itself. In a cross shape with a surprising gallant stairway running up to the second floor. He walked past the station room and looked both ways down the open halls. There were no doors placed at the end of them. Sensible, since the abode was set in what was practically an inlet of cave walls sitting under flat rock. There were doors around these halls, but not many. Some looked like closets, one or two a bathroom or a room. Trevor disregarded these. He began climbing the stairs. As they winded up and around the beam separating the walls, he felt like he was stepping on the keys of an arching piano. He rose to the second story, the stair-well edging out to a lobby-type area with a more homely change in architecture. Creeping to singular door in the center of the room in front of him. Nothing to be desired in this room. Just a dresser with what he would imagine the table covers and other similar things, things for the house to use for using and cleaning up. Trevor approached the door with anticipation. As unlikely as it was unlocked. No struggle, no grinding. Smoothly, it glided in the room he was about to enter. It was tight. Like he was going in to a closet. But, he entered and there was a couch on his right hand side and television in front of him. He decided not to turn it on. Whatever image it might have displayed would be still anyway. He wasn’t really sure if it would actually, he wasn’t sure how that worked. Not to mention whatever that may be in the very fringe of hell. He made his way forward. Passing a door on his left and some other furniture around the room, he opened up the next room. A room of two staircases, one going down on the far side of the room and one going up on his immediate right. He pushed on to the center of the room. To his left, he saw a window, a rather sizable one at that. Trevor liked windows to the extent one could like windows. He always thought the whole giant windows in high buildings thing was kind of off-putting. He looked out it. Nothing but white walls. Looking down and seeing barren ground outside the place with not much space to spare. “Now… to go up or down?” Trevor could not see any reason to go back down. He clutched his right hand and thought about this thoroughly. If he did go down, it had to be some place different. Like a basement on the other side of the walls downstairs, very likely. Trevor made himself a compromise, with no idea what to expect upstairs. He took a chance with going that way. He set the unopened bottle on the bannister pole and left it there. Focusing his weight on the center of the staircase, like any uneven move would set off a series of traps. Like something out of an action-adventure flick if he reached the door at the top at all. But, alieving, that wasn’t the case. He pressed his weight against the door and opened it fast. Like something would come chasing his way in if he didn’t; and shut it. He turned around as he closed the door carefully. Facing the door as he pushed it shut with the knob turned, and let it unravel in his hand to thoroughly close.

           

Staring into the room, it was a room. A bedroom, with a big drapery-style master bed, but with no drapes on it. It was dull, like everything else in the non-secular dimension. Only the fine line on the bed held strips of wood coloration. Indeed, this was the domain of Greeley. But, Trevor didn’t know why he was here and what he was looking for. No clue what-so-ever. He ran to the far side of the room, where another window was. Though, it was bolted down with some sort of spring mechanism. He’d no interest in this. What had gone unnoticed before was the keys on a table placed in the corner. He picked them up immediately. With luck it did happen to be a master key. Large, gold, and etched, with a horse skull. Mediocre in design, but all the same he found something he needed. Like the clever young man he was, he bustled out of the room, down the stairs and parked himself in front of the bottle. He rested there not knowing what was wrong, but ridiculously worn. “This is bad.” It was bad. He needed a grace period and quick. He jammed the key in his pocket, along with the tag that would weigh it down. No time to lose. He was going to fall down and pass-out with time-stop active. He wasn’t sure what the result would be. He jammed the key in his pocket, along with the tag that would weight it down so it wouldn’t fall out. No time to lose. He had to turn it off. A blink, it was canceled. The place still looked the same. Trevor was weary, but unfazed. He was likely in a less traveled piece of the domicile. Grabbing his bottle, or rather the bottle that he found off the railing. He clutched it with folded legs and sat there with his back turned to the door that contained the staircase room. What was he doing? Why was he holding this container of liquid he knew nothing of? He broke out of these heavier thoughts as he had another moment with the idea he picked up the bottle off a shelf of poisonous substances. No doubt, something had drawn him to doing this. He stared at its contents. Looking like water with a thicker sheen to it. The skull on the front almost looked like it was breathing itself. He blew it a kiss while he sat there lightheaded or hysteric, something along those lines. He took the plunge. He uncapped it as it opened with a grainy touch. Trevor knowing not to smell such a thing tipped it and basically ate one-forth of the bottle. Excruciating. The likes of which he’d never felt. He had the beer and vodka. But, never anything like this. As if someone or something had concocted boiling sea-water, melted down a  ghost, and fused them in some process. Trevor wasn’t stern on chemistry. He spit on the floor, and stood. Something had changed. He felt alive. Hormonal and powerful, he could swear he felt wind seep his hair for a  brief instance. All of a sudden he heard footsteps coming up the stairs in front of him. He pivoted left and another man with no oculus’ was right next to him. Intimidating and startling, Trevor jumped. “Who are you? Are you de…” It was too late. Trevor grabbed his neck and he turned to black soot. The soot itself even elected itself to get into the cracks of the floorboards. As if at Trevor’s own leisure. He flashed his eyelids. Back to movement of time. No telling how this had come to be. Trevor made the speculation that these guys were fast, a-like that of his stoppage of time, only pure speed. He could see why they were encased and disjunctioned, supposedly not many demons were here since they got their own cage. Something gave way though, something botched.

            Trevor searches his mind. “Where was he? Where was Greeley? What were they doing here?” he became sensitized in a matter of moments. That wasn’t something he liked to feel right now. Many things had to be done and still have time to find out how to get home. Two times the charm. He charged down the other staircase. No door here. Running out to the furrow of a storage basement and stepping down. All kinds of food, tools, barrels of liquid and supplies. He sprinted around the place. Rushing through rows of items for anything he may need. Nothing, Trevor was beginning to think he was wasting his time. But, out of the corner of his eye, behind some bags of wheat. He saw a door. He didn’t imagine it’d be anything purposeful. No point in not checking it though. He made his way around stuff hitting his head on a shovel and rubbing it in mild irritation. He knew the master’s key would work. It had to, he needed it to. So he opened it. It did unlock, and inside was a cave of obsidian and onyx. Gleaming enough for him to see himself. Feeling his way through, looking for a light switch only to be assailed by an apparition before he could. Trevor rounded a corner and saw a bright light, a swirling mass of white and black speckles, the complete opposite of the tunnel itself. It pulsed with a nuance that would not be fantasized by any 20^th century fiction writer. He cast his visage away as he squint back to the place he’d come from. He knew what he must do. Flicking on time-stop, dashing to the stairs through the door, down the grand staircase and up the hall on the left, he entered the station room and mussed through various desks until he finally found Greeley’s work desk. He looked at the piece of paper through colorless vision. Trevor writhed in dismay as he read its contents. The writings titled The Devil’s Instructions told Greeley to write My Absolution again  which told of his power and how he wanted one being on earth to have it so that he may ensnare his populace once again. For if they were to escape his reign would be strained and no order among hell could ensue if the existing operants could not be replicated. He stopped reading once this was explained. After that it stated something of his leave. It was all he needed to see. So there was nothing Trevor could do besides follow through. Though he didn’t understand what it meant totally. He locked the door on the way out. Making sure to put back everything as it was left. He exited the room and walked up the door titled Greeley and unlocked it with a hurried manner. Almost dropping the key or breaking the lock. “Probably not.” He was terrified. A man sat petrified in his chair, well- in two forms to be precise, a demon himself. Trev decided to keep it simple. He moved the man’s desk to the opposite wall, placing a chair on the other side by his feet, then another chair to the door that contained the fugitives. It was an odd score, but all the same. He almost laughed. But, he didn’t. He ran. Ran back to the storage room. To the beautiful cave, and threw himself into the plasmatic wall of light he saw before him without a second guess. Bracing himself, although not aware of why. He wasn’t aware of much of anything now. He could hope it would take him where he wanted to go.