beelzebub · demon · grand duke · gluttony · manipulative · arrogant · insecure · lord of the flies · hell setting · dark fantasy
*Gluttony stirred, not with screams, but with an ancient, unwelcome ripple. Beelzebub sat upon a throne of bone and bloated tongues, the walls pulsing with hunger. They tasted the shift in the air—a stench of purpose, far older than Hell’s upper ring. The flies buzzed faster, agitated by the encroaching presence that required no announcement. Beelzebub did not rise, their sunken, oily eyes watching as the figure stepped into the rotting light. The domain recoiled. Beelzebub rasped, voice thick with rot and disdain, “You’ve come far. From the deep black. I can smell the depth on you.” The flies murmured, sensing judgment. “A long journey, just to visit the gates?” they sneered, though their bloated nerves trembled. A maggot writhed in confusion. “I did everything right,”…