A dragon. A damned fire breathing dragon. I thought they were nothing more than the imagination of writers and not real but clearly, I had thought wrong. The creature was incredibly beautiful, like the leaves upon the land he was a dark orange and the underbelly was a dull yellow. I watched with awe as those mighty wings spanned wide, gliding over the trees while the branches and leaves scratched at the scales.

A huge branch fell to the ground near us, leaves rained down to the ground. I wanted to tell Anton how amazing it was that dragons were real, even if they were a little scary. But for some reason I knew not to speak, I don't know why but I just knew it.

This place was beautiful, I couldn't get over the majesty of it even though it was nothing more than autumn leaves and black trees. My hand ran over the bark of a tree, Anton was watching the castle. The bark was rough and it felt cold which was odd considering that this world was warm.

Anton gently pulled at my hand, walking us through the trees towards the castle. I don't know how he was planning on getting into the place, just by looking at it from a distance I knew it wouldn't be easy. And if they were anything like the castles made by humans, this place was going to be near on impenetrable. I don't understand why Anton would need something so fortified and it left me wondering what was in the castle that needed to be protected.

Instead of continuing over the small hill we moved along the side of it to a thick forest area. It was made of normal-looking trees, it had a thin undergrowth that wasn't leaf litter. This whole area looked like a normal forest rather than the lanky black trees that seemed to dominate this land. We didn't walk far before we came upon a small stone archway that was nestled into a low embankment. I looked down at my feet and saw what looked like black oil seeping around us, moving over the muddy land. It was vastly different to the picture perfect land out there, in here it was a normal looking land but it was incredibly odd.

The thick oil curled around my shoes and then slid up over my laces. Refraining from a gasp, I flicked it away and watched it fall back to the ground. It was something, it was definitely alive. Worse yet, it began to follow us as we walked into the darkness of the archway.

Anton was close, our hands still connected but in the dark, I didn't know what we were faced with. He pulled me in front of him, one hand around my waist, the other found my mouth. I wanted to question his motives but I feared the reason he wanted to ensure I didn't scream.

Light filled the stone corridor, flaming lanterns lit the path ahead of us. A path that was made of the damned. My eyes widened as Anton moved us forward, the ghostly figures reaching out to us. I squeaked with fright when one made contact, the cold and soft touch wafting over me and then fading into nothing.

They whispered and begged their pleas to save them, to free them from the agony. Anton ignored them, moving us forward. It was the same for what felt like a mile of walking. The same begging, the same cries of pain. Even though they were a ghostly figure, I could see their faces. The pain was evident, hollowed out eye sockets that left a darkness against the gaunt gray figures.

We stopped at the end, faced with a wood door that looked old, the iron handle was covered in cobwebs. Anton let go of me, turning me around and then pulling me back into his arms. As I enjoyed the moment of comfort I looked back to the corridor of those who would not see such comfort for themselves.

I pulled out of his arms and gave a gentle nod to the corridor and the figures that were watching. Anton rolled his eyes with a grin and I guess accepted what I believed was right. They might be damned but he didn't need to make it worse by throwing it in their faces like that. Then again, he was the devil and they were the damned. Maybe he should.

Anton opened the door carefully, peering through the tiny crack. With a slight huff, he pushed it open a fraction more, took my hand and pulled us through. As we left the corridor the lights began to dim and the wails faded into the air, nothing more than a memory now.

We were in what looked like a corridor, the same stone making the walls that loomed high over us. It was warm, so warm that I wanted to remove my jacket and find something to fan my face with. Anton tugged my hand, moving us along the poorly lit corridor to a set of stairs. He waited for a moment and then we quietly ascended the wide stone spiral staircase.

After several flights of going around and around, I began to feel rather light headed. If it wasn't for the windows every so often I would have probably become dizzy at the second turn. The windows were stain glass, the same pattern for each of them. In the center was a diamond made of red glass, around it was square panels of clear glass.

We stopped at a small landing, another old door with another iron handle covered in webs. I dreaded the thought that it would be my job to clean this place. Sure, I'd have plenty of time to do it but it just seemed to be a rather large task. I suppose I could start at one end of the place and by the time I reached the other end I'd be right to go back to the beginning. A year might pass between the start and the end but I would get there eventually.

Anton opened the door warily, looking out to yet another darkened corridor. Did the underworld have electricity? If they did they certainly didn't know how to use it.

Footsteps made Anton turn back, he looked at the other side of the landing where the stairs went higher. We couldn't see what lay beyond it, the wall covered the view. But there was definitely someone walking down the stairs. Anton pulled me into the corridor and quietly closed the door. In the darkness we moved quickly, another door was opened and closed once we were through it.

As Anton pressed his ear to the door to listen, I turned and looked at the room. It was more brightly lit than anything I had seen in this place but that was because of the large windows that were open to the fading sunlight.

Deep red curtains hung down each of the sides, pooling on the floor. The remaining walls were filled with wood shelves that were packed tight with scrolls like what Anton was reading at our apartment in New York. I craned my neck higher, looking up to the ceiling that seemed so far away. Letting go of Anton's hand I moved to the edge of the balcony and looked down into the darkness. For as far as I could see, I could see the same shelves that lined the walls.

I walked to the wall nearest to me, removing a scroll and unfurling it. It was old, the paper was yellowed and the ribbon was fraying. Scanning over it I quickly realized that this was one of Anton's contracts, the signature at the bottom was jittery and ragged. It looked like someone was desperate and rushed their signature. This person had sold their soul for money, endless money. I read the name and recognized it, knowing that the person was dead and had been that way for some time.

Clearly, their contract wasn't all that they hoped for, maybe they should have asked for a long life as well.