Page 94 of Where Light Cannot Follow

I let my tears dry and walk out of Dante's home, back into my sanctuary.

“Poet.”

The voice freezes me where I stand.

Satan sits at my writing desk, penning something on the parchment with an unhurried hand, his legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed. He looks up as though I've interrupted him in his own study, as if he were not the one who has invaded the single private space I possess.

I don't have blood, but somehow it runs cold.

"I had planned to come see you next, my Lord."

He lifts his eyes and smiles. "Yes, I'm aware. I wanted to spare you the journey. There's no need to trouble yourself."

I hesitate. Steam rises from the hot springs, curling upward like thin clouds against the windows that frame the ancient heavens. There's a trap here—there's always a trap—and I have walked into his snares too many times, had my leg wrenched by them, learned to recognize their shapes. But I can't see this one. I don't know where to step.

He rises, the smile still perfectly in place. "I've achieved my ends. What purpose would punishing you serve when there's nothing left to gain?"

"Is Dante⁠—"

"Gone, yes." He waves a hand, dismissive. "You needn't worry."

My posture unwinds, imagined muscles untensing. Some part of me had feared Dante might not follow through, might have felt the pull to return to Satan's court and bargain for something he shouldn't. I'm relieved to be wrong.

I'm also devastated, in a selfish way I cannot justify, to be wrong.

Satan adjusts his cuffs with casual precision. "I have plans in motion, and I find I'm no longer in need of your particular services."

A moment passes. The soft burble of the springs echoes between us before I speak. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I'm releasing you from your bargain with me." His eyes meet mine, dark and fathomless. "You're free to do as you please." A pause, and something hardens in his gaze. "Within this realm, of course. Should you set foot in my territory, that's another matter entirely."

"You're releasing me?"

He turns and trails his fingers along the bookshelves, skimming over the spines, soft leather, rough vellum, cracked wood. Touching all the things I cannot feel.

"As I said, I'm evolving. I have no appetite for petty games any longer. You are free to fill your hours however you see fit." He tilts his face upward, studying the stars scattered out the windows, the painted ceiling. "The light still won't receive you, of course. You'll always bear my mark. But I release you from service and any debt owed."

He lowers his gaze and offers something that might almost be respect.

"It's a shame I couldn't convince you to join us. What beautiful worlds you might have created."

I say nothing. I do nothing. Not as a strategy, not as an attempt to navigate, but because I cannot grasp the shape of this moment. I feel as though he's maneuvering me, but for once in our very long history, it isn't into a corner. It's into open space. Wide and boundless and terrifying in its freedom.

He smiles to himself and moves toward the door.

"Let me not keep you any longer. I'll show myself out." He pauses at the threshold, appraising my sanctuary one final time. "Should you change your mind someday, you know where to find me."

"I do."

He walks out without another word.

I stare at the door as it closes, as the latch clicks softly into place.

This cannot be true.

Free? But not truly free—I still have no means of leaving this place. No debt to him is an improvement, perhaps, but it's like being told the chains around your ankles have been removed while you remain at the bottom of the sea.

Perhaps I can guide souls to the light now without so much interference. Perhaps that will mean something.