The Golden Mirage: The Underworld Series, #3

By Penn Fawn

The Golden Mirage, the third book of the Underworld series, chronicles the journey of several men who did not know there is life after death. Far less did they have any idea how terrifying that afterlife is, a staple characteristic in Penn Fawn's dark fantasy novels.

 

What's new is the author introduces readers to the character Lilith, a name that will ring a bell for those familiar with Judaic mythology, while giving a much more thorough examination of a factor that eternally torments couples with a romantic or intimate interest in each other.

 

That factor is the chastity curse. A phenomenon unique to Fawn's hellish world of life after death, first mentioned in his debut novel, Necropolis.

The curse is one where couples discover any attempt to make love proves to be so exceedingly painful that it prompts them to abandon their amorous intent near instantaneously.

 

Enter the promiscuous and polyamorous Lilith, the renowned she-demon, or the first wife of Adam, who was banished from the Garden of Eden. Lilith is the only known individual with the power to nullify the effects of the chastity curse.

 

She is featured here as an extremely powerful witch queen, and ruler of The Haven, the utopian paradise many of the underworld's residents discovered was no myth.

 

But was it really a utopia? This is what the characters, including the good witch Hespatia, from the previous two books of the series, plus her peers, will find out.

With the underworld being a place filled with danger and hostility, collectively what they longed for, above all else, was to find a location where they could safely and comfortably live and thrive. No one was more aware of this than Lilith, thus she presented them with an offer they could hardly refuse.

 

In this tale of desire and deception, however, her offer was one where they found themselves being lured deeper and deeper into her enchanted realm. One in which her desire for ultimate power and domination knew no boundaries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penn Fawn
• Release date: Dec 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223801764

Penn Fawn

Penn Fawn is the author of the dark fantasy series, Necropolis, and its spin off series, The Underworld, a terrifying place in the afterlife where men who believed they will find eternal rest there discovered that isn't true. They also learned their death was a portal to the continuation of life in that world that was far worse than whatever they heard about hell. Fawn is the owner of Penn Fawn Books, which also publishes short form fiction and coloring books.

Book preview

Chapter I ♠ Lilith

Once upon a time, there was an opening to a cave located high above ground level up the side of a mountain. One among a range called the Black Mountains.

Local villagers called the opening the lair, and it was the subject of great excitement, chatter, and curiosity.

What made the talk exciting, or what caused all the curiosity, was that supposedly there was gold within the cave, or on the other side of it. Lots of gold, or so it had been claimed.

The location on the other side was where no villager who lived near the lair could have directed you to. For as much as they liked to gossip, they did not know much.

What they did not know is, there was more than one such place. They also didn’t know one was called the haven.

Two roads were said to lead toward there. Roads supposedly paved with gold.

Supposedly is the operative word, or at least that was the talk that circulated among certain residents on the other side of the mountains.

There were many things about this story that should have aroused suspicion.

But men, being what they are, always had a tendency to accept and believe in their heart and soul, lies and/or fantasy, and not the truth.

Regarding this place called the haven, which should never be misread or confused with this word, heaven, its location was nowhere near the sky.

For that matter, it was within the underworld, a place as diametrically opposite to any concept of a utopia as was possible.

But even within there, hellish a place as it was, men didn’t merely hold steadfastly to optimistic views. They embraced utopian ones.

Some of them, many more than you might believe, went so far as to think that not only must there be some place of refuge for men within there, but they also felt there had to be more, plus places even better than a mere refuge.

The haven was thought to be one of them.

Now getting back to the roads that led there. Imagine, if you will, a cobblestone street. Or rather, two. Only, the cobblestones weren’t stones at all.

They were shaped like them, though. However, they were bars of gold.

What’s more is, the mortar between them wasn’t mortar. That too, was nothing other than pure gold.

Within the haven was a castle, the largest and most impressive building within the town.

Or, as the locals would say, it was located within the heart of town.

It was the witch’s domain.

Which witch, you ask?

Why, that would be none other than Lilith, the pale witch. The one whose hair was dark and brown.

She wore it well past her shoulders, at about say a third of the way down the length of her back.

Coordinating with her hair was what some called dark and mysterious eyes, and perhaps, for the sake of matching things even more, she for the most part fancied wearing dark clothing.

Burgundy and black were among her favorite colors.

Her nails too, for that matter, she painted black, and sometimes even her lips.

She wore a ring on all of the fingers of her right hand, except the thumb.

They were a curious mixture to say the least. A combination of gems, precious stones, and more.

Around her pinky, she wore a black sapphire ring.

She wore a ruby ring on the first finger, the one next to her thumb.

Next to that, meaning around her middle finger, was a skull ring made of silver.

A macabre looking fixture it was.

The skull was one in which the mandible was missing.

Although cast in silver, it was not polished. Therefore, there was no shine to it whatsoever.

For that matter, the silver looked . . . well, black.

The holes where a pair of eyes were, plus the area at the base of the nose bridge, looked like cavernous depths.

Those areas were blacker than the unpolished hue of the silver.

Arguably, her most interesting ring of them all, however, was the one she wore on the middle finger of her left hand.

It looked very much like an eye.

Although it was surrounded by silver, it was composed of living tissue. Yes, tissue. Eye tissue, that is.

This ring had an exceedingly thin layer of silver, one might call a lid, that she slid back and forth.

She never failed to cover the eye with it before she took it off and went to sleep.

She also never failed to cover it when she washed her hands.

Now where she managed to find such a thing is anyone’s guess. That is, if she didn’t make it.

Presently, she looked at the freakish contraption.

A smirk appeared on her lips.

I see something is stirring, my love, she said, as if she was addressing a person, and could have received a reply.

What she saw via the eye, or eye ring, were several strangers who we shall get to in due time.

Let it suffice to read that presently, they were not too far away from either street of gold. Meaning those that led toward the haven, where, should they have been approaching, surely, they would have seen the castle’s outline in the distance.

Lilith seldom went outside of it.

She didn’t care for being in the sun.

She didn’t care too much for the daylight, period.

Nighttime, she would say, is the right time.

She chose a room in the castle that had no windows for her bedroom.

Within there, she used candles to provide the place with some form of illumination.

The candlelight gave everything a dark yellowish hue, juxtaposed to those rooms where there were windows, where sunlight bathed those interiors with white light.

Notwithstanding, she was very fond of her bedroom, the place she called her quarters.

It was where scores of king cobras and boa constrictors slid all over the ground.

One or more of the constrictors often got onto her bed to cuddle, nestle, or wrap itself around her while she slept. And for what seemed like forever, whenever she walked in and out of her room, never had she accidentally stepped on any.

She had servants, however, who weren’t so lucky. They were those charged with the responsibility of finding live mice to feed the snakes.

You’re invited to imagine the look on the faces of those who were newly hired. Those who, after they knocked on her door, then were told to come in, saw a room full of serpents writhing all over the floor.

What’s more is, while asleep, it didn’t matter how deep Lilith was into it. The second after the sound from the rap on her door reached her ear, her eyes instantly opened, and a remarkable transformation ensued.

You see, she appeared to be one person while awake. That person was the tall, and for many, attractive brunette, who never suffered a lover to sleep in her room, far less her bed, after sharing an evening or night of passion, for the second after her eyes felt heavy and she drifted off into la la land, she changed from handsome beauty to haggard harlot.

Taut skin became loose. Droopy jowls replaced a defined jawline. Her hair, once a rich deep brown, turned gray, and in this state, she’d lie until a clockworklike transformation at the break of day. Or someone came knocking on the door where she’d stay, meaning that room she called her quarters.

I said come in, Lilith would say, at which time a servant’s Adam’s apple would move.

She’d then add something to the tune of, So long as you don’t step on any of them, you’ll be safe, which seemed fair. After all, she did this day in and day out, and for all they knew, she was never bitten.

Notwithstanding, the servant—and it was always a male, for Lilith never hired women to do this task—would quake.

He’d also hope to decline making the delivery, mindful that refusing this duty, or any of her demands, for that matter, was ill advised.

Enveloped in a film of sweat, and/or with trembling hands and/or legs, he’d pray to safely make it to her bedside with his platter, then make it back out.

In spite of whatever Lilith said, however, to reiterate, several servants died after suffering from venomous bites, and this was despite having never stepped on any of her pets.

Chapter II ♠ The Meadow

Aside from her snakes , Lilith’s other pet was a type of animal that could not be found anywhere near where she lived. Such creatures weren’t native to the region, which perhaps partially explained why she was so enamored with hers.

That animal in question was a black steed, and if the truth be told, it was a mightily impressive and remarkable-looking specimen. One with muscles that rippled under its dark coat, which glistened in the sunlight.

Perhaps if it weren’t for it, this woman who loved when it was overcast and dark, as much as she loved the interior of her windowless room, wouldn’t have faced the light of day as much as she did.

When she ventured out, it was almost always to spend time with her beloved Beauty, which is the name she’d given to the stallion.

She spoke to it in a doting manner, not unlike a parent does to a child, and she took him for daily rides on the massive stretch of meadow adjacent to the castle compound.

She went unaccompanied. Or, to put it another way, with no one to cast a caring and watchful eye, in the event something unforeseen happened to her while out on her daily joy ride. But then again, she was the only one at the compound who had a horse. Plus, when she was with him, she didn’t want any company anyway. So out onto the meadow she’d go, atop Beauty, who’d canter to and fro.

Now getting back to what she described after watching her eye ring. You may remember she said she saw something stirring.

What she saw was men, who, after opening their eyes, saw either the clearest of blue skies or a particular shade of green grass.

Had they not been so alarmed, the latter might have noticed how pleasant the grass, which felt like a cushion under their bodies, smelled.

They might also have heard or noticed the occasional bee flying from flower to flower along the lush meadow.

By degrees, these men and women raised from a lying to a seated position.

Hardly a second passed thereafter when they got on their feet then commenced to look around them.

Many did so with mouths ajar.

Not because of the sheer size of the meadow, mind you, which they began to think might have stretched from there to forevermore.

They were more surprised to discover they weren’t alone, which perhaps was not so strange. But it sure felt that way.

Yes. Strange.

They were even more surprised, a hundredfold more so, to learn they were capable of being surprised.

What the hell . . . one of them spoke under his breath, but never finished his sentence. This was Gullib.

The rest of the strangers, as we shall presently call them, considering no one knew his peer’s name, made sure to not gaze for the smallest fraction of a second at each other.

Their refrain wasn’t because it was impolite to stare another person down. Rather, no one wanted to give the impression of not having the foggiest idea where he was. Nor did one want to do anything that suggested he had no inkling about what was going on.

So some of the strangers who, on average, were about a hundred and fifty feet from the person closest to him or her, were extra mindful about how they behaved.

To the last man, their eyes were filled with wonder, although some hoped this was not evident.

They also hoped they weren’t wearing faces that spoke volumes about what frame of mind they were in.

They continued in this manner for a while more until a swarthy fellow, a certain Marron, suspected their behavior just might all be pretense.

He wanted to say something, to ask the person closest to him a question, or twenty, but he found he had the most difficult time attempting to open his mouth.

Nothing was wrong with him.

No physical ailment or anything of the sort prevented him from speaking.

What kept him quiet was fear. In particular, fear of admitting he had no idea where he was.

He’d never seen this place, this meadow, before.

For that matter, the fact that he could see anything concerned him.

He was not the only one.

Everyone there felt the same.

Before his present experience, the last thing Marron recalled was his eyelids feeling heavy.

Again, he was not alone, and just like anyone who was about to probably die, what he didn’t expect was after he closed his eyes, he’d open them again.

Open them he did, and with that accomplished, you’re invited to imagine his state of mind after discovering he awoke not on what he suspected would likely be his death bed, but on the meadow.

Chapter III ♠ The Meeting of Three Parties

Awoman who was also busy looking around, acting in a manner every bit as sheepish as Marron, watched him approach her.

By degrees, many of those who were, on average, about one hundred and fifty feet apart, commenced to draw nearer to each other.

Scores of them did this while another woman, who was much, much further away, tread lightly and cautiously as she approached.

Cautious would be right, for if the approaching stranger knew anything, anything at all, she was convinced you really never knew who or what you might encounter during one’s travels there.

Unlike the dumbfounded strangers, eleven friends accompanied her, including her best one of them all. A German Shepherd named Woof.

Their party was so far away from the others that they appeared to be merely a few inches tall.

Notwithstanding, their mere presence both alarmed and intrigued them.

Who, or what were those figures in the distance? That is what the woman and her peers wondered.

As far as they could see, it looked like their subjects of interest were no four-footed ravenous or carnivorous beasts.

Meanwhile, another party of just two fellows, who were about twelve hundred yards away, approached the strangers from their other side.

Gullib cast his eyes yonder. Not at the two, who were further away from his group.

It was the approaching party of twelve that grabbed his attention.

As they drew nearer, they studied Gullib and his group further.

Presently, they considered not only were the objects of their attention no four-legged beasts, but they didn’t appear to be strange bipedal animals either.

They breathed a sigh of relief.

Not so for Gullib, who continued to look at them fixedly.

Now, regarding strange bipedal animals, after further consideration, several from the party of twelve felt they’d overacted, because it would have been odd to find any ghouls or gargoyles out in the open like that.

These were creatures that liked darker places, after all. Caves and thick forests were their domain.

The former, as far as they knew or heard, tended to adhere to wherever had a heavy coverage of trees; those with canopies made for good cover.

Breathing much easier now, they felt almost convinced that the group who got their attention were men.

To the last individual, the smaller two of the three parties looked like they were ready to fight a battle.

Who didn’t have a bow and/or a quiver of arrows slung around the torso, had a scabbard from which he or she could reach over the shoulder and retrieve a sword.

Others carried their swords and/or daggers from a scabbard slung around the waist.

That is how the woman with the dog, the owner of the German Shepherd, carried her blades.

Yes, blades.

She had two of them. One slung over her shoulder, one in her waist scabbard, plus she carried a quiver of arrows.

Her face stood out prominently before her headcover. A hijab.

Such headgear, of course, was an article of clothing meant to make women appear modest. However, in many cases, it provided the opposite effect.

It accented or served only to draw more attention to the profile and contours of the wearer’s face.

Skin that clung so close to rounded cheekbones, and an angular and well-defined jaw, suggested the woman in question’s side portrait may have been one ordained by the gods.

Her eyelashes were long and thick, and if you dared look at her eyes, however briefly, and if only for the sake of observation, you’d notice she had a way of batting her lids that could only be described as being inadvertently seductive.

She had what was called bedroom eyes, in other words.

Her nose, which stood out at some remarkable angle, was sized and shaped in such a manner that it only complemented her already handsome profile.

It’s fair to say that profile could be described as a living work of art.

This was Hespatia.

Like Lilith, mind you, she was a witch.

Her complexion was a light bronze, as opposed to Lilith’s pale hue.

As she and her party ventured nearer to where the strangers were, almost all eyes fell on her and them.

The exceptions to this were those who caught sight and became fixated with the party of two who approached them from on their left.

Tension hung in the air.

Who, the strangers wondered, were these people? This woman and a dog, plus her eleven companions. And why were they dressed in such a way?

Hello, Hespatia said, breaking the nerve-wracking silence.

Gullib, unsure of whether she was addressing him, looked around.

He then redirected his attention to her.

Yes, you, Hespatia said.

Hello, he replied.

May I ask, she continued, who are you, and where or what do you call this place?

Once again, Gullib looked around.

He then redirected his attention to Hespatia.

Uh, you’re asking me? he replied.

Yes, she said.

Gullib looked around again, then back at Hespatia.

Uh, I don’t know, he said.

You don’t know who you are? she asked.

No, no. My name is Gullib. What I meant is I don’t know this place. I’m new to the area.

I see, Hespatia replied.

A few seconds passed before anyone said anything more.

Who are you? Gullib asked.

My name is Hespatia, she replied, and this is my dog, Woof. And these are my friends.

Hello, Woof. Hello everyone, Gullib said.

Woof barked and Hespatia’s party all but simultaneously replied.

Where are you from? she asked.

There was a time when Gullib recalled this being as common and simple a question to answer as could be.

Presently, it didn’t feel that way.

He did not suffer from amnesia.

He had a clear recollection of where he was from, yet he felt hesitant to say anything.

All of a sudden, a film of sweat covered him.

His body felt warmer.

Those closest to him were as eager as Hespatia and her party were to hear his reply.

You needn’t say anything more, Hespatia said.

But I didn’t say anything, he replied.

I know, she said.

So why did you say what you did? What do you mean by it?

I mean, I know exactly what you mean, she replied.

What? he said. What are you saying?

I’m saying I understand your predicament.

My predicament?

Yes, she replied.

Well, if you say so, he returned.

I do, she said.

How can you say such a thing? he asked.

Because I’ve been where you are now, so to speak, so I know what you’re thinking, feeling.

Wasn’t it you who only moments ago asked me about this place? How can you now turn around and say you understand my predicament?

Once again, Hespatia told herself she knew only too well what his dumbfounded expression meant.

I’ll say that by the look of things you—and by you, I mean, or I suspect all of you—don’t have a clue how you got here. Far less do you know where you are. Right?

His mouth hung open.

No one offered to reply.

Hespatia allowed a few more seconds to pass before she said, Right?

Gullib looked around again.

Still, no one responded.

He redirected his attention to her.

Cat got your tongue? she asked.

He said nothing.

Half of you, Hespatia continued, must now feel terribly confused, if not disturbed or alarmed.

How do you know this, Miss? a woman near Gullib spoke.

Like I said, it’s because I’ve experienced what you’re enduring now. It happened many moons ago. So many, that you would not believe me if I told you the number.

Try me, the woman said.

I’ve long lost count. Try well over, I mean well, well over one hundred years and counting.

What! What madness . . . Gullib began.

Hespatia held out her hand like one does when she wants someone to stop advancing.

Look, she said. Want to know where you are? Want to know where here is? You can call it hell, purgatory, or whatever. We call it the underworld.

The underworld? the woman who spoke a moment ago replied. This was Meera.

Yes, Hespatia said.

What underworld? Gullib asked. Where is that?

Not anywhere where you may believe, Hespatia replied.

What? Well, I’m here, aren’t I? In this so-called underworld, as you call it. If that is really where we are. But you know, I wish you’d stop speaking like that.

Like what? Hespatia asked.

Like every time you’re presented with a question, you reply in a way that makes one feel even more confused.

Sorry, Hespatia said. I wasn’t aware I was doing that.

Well, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing, Gullib added.

So, where exactly is this place, this . . . underworld, as you call it? How far is it from where we’re from?

Huh, Hespatia uttered with a smirk.

What are you laughing at? he asked.

You never told me where you’re from, she replied.

He acknowledged this was true.

I’m from . . . he began, but before he could finish his sentence, Hespatia held out her hand again.

Let me get straight to the point, she said. This place is not on the plain from which you’re familiar, my friend, she said. Nor is it anywhere close.

You see what I mean, he replied. There you go again. Speaking in a way that only makes me more concerned. Confused even.

I’m sorry, Hespatia said. I didn’t intend to do that.

Plain? What plain? What are you talking about? he asked.

You’re a dead man walking, my friend, Hespatia said. The life you once knew is forfeit.

Gullib shook his head from side to side.

In frustration, he added, I’m sorry, but perhaps one of your friends can give me an answer.

Shae, Hespatia’s shaman friend, stepped forward.

I don’t know, sir, he began, how to say this in any easy way.

Gullib felt more frustrated.

Easy way? he said. How difficult could it be to answer what, I must say, is a very simple question?

Shae, understanding his frustration, allowed him a moment to vent.

I mean, I just want to know where this place is. That’s all, for heaven’s sake. Where the hell are we?

Believe you me, I understand you, Shae replied. But it’s more complicated than you know.

Could you just tell us where we are, please? Meera interjected.

Hespatia answered that question already, Shae replied. You can call here whatever you want to. Hell, purgatory, the afterlife, whatever. We simply call it the underworld.

Meera’s mouth hung open.

This is madness, she said. You can’t be serious.

Oh, but we are, Shae replied.

Meera’s eyes darted from him and then to Hespatia a couple of times.

You think this is funny, eh? she said. Either you think this is a joke or you’re mad, she added. Both of you.

We’re not mad, Shae said, and we don’t think there’s anything funny about this whatsoever.

His peer, Demba, a fellow shaman, joined the conversation. You may not believe what we told you now, he added, but believe you me, you’ll come around to accepting what my friends said before long.

Meera did not reply.

For that matter, you may bet your firstborn child, provided you have one, on what I’ve said without any fear, Demba added.

Meera, unsure of what to make of this reply, was flabbergasted.

Chapter IV ♠ The Third Party

Recall, if you can , there was a party of two men who approached the strangers from the opposite end from where Hespatia’s group had been coming.

Like hers, they too were armed.

They both bore a sword slung over the shoulder.

Each also had a dagger in his waist belt.

Like Hespatia’s group, their appearance didn’t fail to draw attention.

Presently, they engaged the strangers in a conversation that wasn’t dissimilar to the one Gullib and Meera were in.

So before long, they too went from merely being curious figures to questionable ones.

Those who’d spoken to them also wondered if the things they said were truthful. If not, were these men playing the fool? That is what they wondered.

Underworld? What underworld? Were they making fun of them by saying that is where they were?

No one within