Do Me A Wrong

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The Searing of Flames.

An inferno of pure rage and hate. Like a roar of a wrathful dragon, it consumed and devoured everything in its path. Leaving only misery and ash behind. It was darkness…it was cruelty …and he loved every bit of it.

The Rending of Flesh.

He tore at them. There was nothing graceful about it. Ripped them shred from shred. A savage brutality so unlike anything in the world that any mortal would have fallen into an unending madness from the mere sight.

The Screaming of Souls.

It's impossible to break or damage a soul. It is one of the few absolutes within the confines of Creation. Yet, it can be burned. Gnawed on by the vicious wyrms that crawl through the abysmal fires and subjugated to horrors beyond the comprehension of any. And such was his relish.

Ichigo woke with a start, his face covered by a thin veneer of grime and sweat. Immediately, his hands clawed at his face, dreading the ceramic monstrosity had taken over his appearance once more. His breathing was laboured as his chest rose and fell in rapid motions.

He took a quick glance around in an attempt to recognize his surroundings. A frown crossed his lips as he somehow winded up back in his room in the Underworld. How did he come to be here when he was in Paris not but a few minutes ago?

His brow furrowed as he fought to remember what the very last thing that had happened. He had gone down into the crypts with Grayfia and she had-

-agony and horror fused as one out of her mouth as he pressed the fire into her. Flesh burned away in fallen ash and bone was left blackened and brittle-

-shown him how to detect magical wards and chided him for his overpowered approach. When he asked if he could simply tear them down she-

-chains from the deepest corners of the Pit shred through muscle and sinew. Organs, steaming and hot, spilled forth from jagged and bloody lacerations-

-chided him and told him the different layers and protections woven into the trap. That he would eventually learn how to manipulate his own power on that level. She had then-

-Dark, ravenous…he burned with such fury in search of the soul that there wasn't even any pain. His rage was so intense that the he burned the nerves away before pain could even be felt-

-given him that teasing smile that always seemed to set him at ease and reminded him of lost moments from, oh so, long ago. He followed as she led-

- He surged deep until he found churning sin that fed his flames even higher and dark vengeance crept in twisted laughter and brutal joy-

-deeper into the catacombs and to the lair of the Undead. Together, they had discovered the necromancer even as it brought forth the sinners he had been tasked with recapturing.

Ichigo's brows furrowed as he struggled to drag up the rest of the memory. A small lance of pain pierced his temples and Ichigo's expression fell from being confused, to outright shock. Shades of cursed fire and sounds of eldritch madness consumed his thoughts.

Dark.

Compulsive.

Intoxicating.

It wasn't as if some other power had taken control of him. It wasn't that he had lost complete control of his facilities. It had all been him. He had been painfully aware of every action on his part. It was his duty…his purpose.

To punish, to viciously take retribution against every single sin that he could dredge up from their tainted souls. Such was the function of Hell; the Abysmal Pits that served as the daunting dread on the other side of Death since time immemorial.

"You've woken up," a tired voice from his beside him asked.

His neck snapped in the direction of the voice and he saw Grayfia raise her head from crossed arms on his bed. He blinked a few times. How long had she been there? It was then that a thought occurred to him and his eyes went wide.

Swiftly his hands landed on her shoulders and he looked her over in concern. "Are you all right?" He fired off quickly. "Dammit, I didn't hurt you did I?"

She smiled indulgently at him and calmly brushed his hands away. "I am fine. It seems you were in total control the entire time. Your flames never touched me."

Ichigo exhaled in reprieve and closed his eyes, as relief couldn't wash over him fast enough. For a horrid moment, he had honestly thought that she had been devoured in the surge of hellfire unleashed by his wrath.

A shadow crept over his eyes and he dropped his face into a hand. A tired sigh escaped his lips and he threw himself backwards onto his bed in an undignified manner. An uncomfortable lapse of silence passed between them before Grayfia said, "Would you like to talk about it?"

He lifted his hand and glanced over towards her. Ichigo would have snorted in amusement had he not been feeling such an incredible amount of stress. Still dressed in her street clothes, the Strongest Queen leaned forward in her seat, eyes shifting in worry. Never before had he seen the extraordinary woman look so utterly normal before.

He turned his gaze up at the ceiling and blew out several strands of hair from his eyes. His throat constricted and an involuntary flinch passed through him as he remembered each violent onslaught he had committed.

Warmth encompassed one of his hands and a gentle pressure applied itself.

He craned his head and saw Grayfia reaching over and gripping his hand in her own. The beautiful woman had distress and sorrow glistening in her shining silver eyes. And behind that sorrow, he found an unfathomable depth of strength and resolve.

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