There were numerous places in the six realms where Praxis would have preferred to end up, but Tartarus was the one he did not want to even imagine. Tartarus, the dominion of the demons and the realm of the Great Ancient Diablos. While the 5 other realms were each places of both triumphs and flaws, Tartarus was the only exception.
Airth, the realm of the angels, home to humankind, and the place of Praxis' birth, was a place of unending uncertainty. Many creatures, including humans, giants, and faeries, roamed its lands and seas. Warfare and conflicts over the control of said lands and seas were common. Its history was one soaked in blood.
The realm of the dead was seen as more idealistic than the realm of the demons. It is said to be a place of quietness and peace. A tranquil eternity for the souls that end up there. The other realms had their unique qualities, both positive and negative. All except the realm of demons, Tartarus.
No one ever mentioned Taratus in any good light.
Tartarus, if it were to be considered anything, would be a prison. It was a prison for the damned and the depraved. It was a prison for the most soulless and vile. It was a prison for the worst of the worst. It was a prison designed to keep the one prisoner and only one prisoner, the Fallen Ancient Lucifer.
All children were told of the stories of the Great Myth. The story of creation and the story of malfeasance. Ultimately, it was a story of hope. At least, that is how it was already taught to the children of Airth. The villain of the story, the cause of all that is vile and the unending conflicts in the six realms, was Lucifer.
"How do I get out?" Praxis asked the reaper.
"You alone cannot. However, if you convince a Primal Demon that you should be let out, then it might. Making a deal with an unknown demon was foolish enough, but knowingly making a deal with a Primal Demon is nothing short of senseless absurdity. If you truly wish to follow this path, then the only way out of hell is to go deeper within. Seek out an audience with a Primal and make an offer worth sending you back to Airth for."
There came a gust of swirling wind, and the reaper was gone. It was gone just as it appeared out of nowhere, and Praxis was once again alone. Was any of this actually real? Praxis truly wished it was all a dream, but you can wake up from dreams. Seeing the endlessness of Limbo before him, he knew his mind could not conjure up such a fantasy.
Praxis' legs gave and he collapsed to the ground. He was drained of all his energy. He did not know what to feel or to feel anything at all. In just a few moments, the entire nature of reality and the concept of what was normal turned upside down.
First, it was only assassins. Growing up in the royal palace, hearing about hired killings was common. Even heard his older siblings plan the assassination of a noble they disliked. Then it was demons and soul-binding contracts. Things one only hears stories about as children, but still, he knew it was possible. But somehow it was then death and the reapers. Finally, Hell, the worst it could ever get.
He was trapped in Hell. He was actually trapped in the barren wastelands of Hell. The absurdity of it all, he just wanted to laugh. Or maybe cry. What does someone do in this situation? Was he the first human to find himself stuck here? He knew he was in the first circle, but besides that, he knew nothing more.
He thought to himself, "What am I supposed to do, Ralos? What can I do? You always knew."
Praxis laid down, putting one of his hands under his head and staring out into the sky. If it was not Tartarus itself, then this could have been a peaceful place to come and run away to. The quiet was something he had never truly felt before. There was never a moment in his life when things were just quiet.
Praxis thought back on his life. While he was raised in the Royal Palace, which always had countless people coming in and out. From the house staff, the royal guards, the knights, the nobles, to the international diplomats and foreign leaders who came there, it was always full of people. But his life in the palace was always lonely.
Growing up, he was either being mocked by his siblings or being sent to do a task for the royal family. He was still a Prince of the Empire, so he did his duties to the best of his abilities. And his abilities were brilliant.
He was never allowed to learn combat or magic. Barred by the other royals, as they saw it would be a potential danger to their claim to the throne. They could not officially ban a prince from learning to do something. However, they said that anyone caught teaching the prince combat would be severely punished, if not executed.
In Aarexia, warfare and combat abilities were everything. Those who could not fight died. And the Emperor had to be the greatest of the fighters if they wanted to be on the throne. Adding a potential threat to the pool of candidates for emperor was something the royal vehemently opposed.
Instead of learning to fight, Praxis was allowed to learn to read, write, think, and the most powerful of his abilities was to be able to talk. From a young age, he was the one who they sent to have talks with foreign kingdoms, seeing it as pointless. What they did not expect was that as he gained in age and experience, his mind and tongue grew to be terrifying.
As his reputation grew throughout the realm, so did the animosity of the royals. But Praxis had one friend in the castle he could always rely on. His only ally in the entire realm, Ralos. Praxis did not want to think about that now. He was not ready to face the reality that his only friend was already gone.
There was a truth he was certain that he was ready to tackle. It was the work of his own family that killed Ralos and tried to kill him. Unfortunately for them, his assassination attempt failed. Even though he was stuck in Tartarus, he was still alive. And the anger inside his heart still burned ferociously.
He knew that he was going to find a way out and destroy everything that they cared about. He was going to burn down the entire empire to ash, and even the deepest layer of hell was not about to stop him from doing so.
A giant gust of wind blew through the green plain he found himself in. Maybe it was a sign or maybe it was nothing. But he stood up and began walking in the direction it was going. Though he did not know what the path before was truly was or how long it would take him to traverse it, he knew where he wanted to end up. He knew the people he wanted to make suffer.