10
Tempest and I stand before a set of towering black gates made from intricately twisted iron. The whole thing looks hopelessly run down and rusted. My forehead creases with worry. Something here feels off.
“Are you sure these are the Onyx Gates?” I ask. All around us, I can only see waist-deep clouds in every direction. Overhead, the sky’s a single sheet of white light. “Pops has taken me to Heaven before. It was all white towers, crystal walls, and blue skies.”
“It’s like this, luv,” says Tempest. “There are the nice bits in Hell, like Furonium, and then, there are the dodgy spots in Heaven.” He nods toward the gates. “Like this right here.”
Odd shadows shift in the clouds around our feet. This whole place gives me the creeps. “Have you ever been inside?”
“No, but I’ve heard about
