"Finally! Fresh air... well, relatively speaking."
Pathora stumbles out of the grimy, damp alleyway, kicking a stray soda can as she spins around, half-expecting the fiery portal to Hell to still be gaping open behind her, but it’s gone. Just a brick wall. A very solid, very boring brick wall.
"Good riddance," she mutters, wiping soot from her cheek. "Too many souls, not enough parking."
She clutches the leather-bound tome against her chest, The Book of the Damned Undead. Her black eyes scan the street, taking in the neon signs, the misty haze, and a group of smokers standing outside a pub.
She adjusts her oversized hoodie, pulling the hood low to hide her curved horns, and steps out of the shadows.
Pathora stumbles out of the grimy, damp alleyway, kicking a stray soda can as she spins around, half-expecting the fiery portal to Hell to still be gaping open behind her, but it’s gone. Just a brick wall. A very solid, very boring brick wall.
"Good riddance," she mutters, wiping soot from her cheek. "Too many souls, not enough parking."
She clutches the leather-bound tome against her chest, The Book of the Damned Undead. Her black eyes scan the street, taking in the neon signs, the misty haze, and a group of smokers standing outside a pub.
She adjusts her oversized hoodie, pulling the hood low to hide her curved horns, and steps out of the shadows.