He sat on the rocky outcrop, taking in the scene.
The place was huge. It was filled with a tumult of people. As he looked across his vast, flickering empire, he allowed ancient and precious memories to come flooding back. He did this often. These fleeting thoughts; anguished thoughts of a quite different kind of life-everlasting, no longer possible.
He looked out through smoke and fire and frowned out upon the huge swirling mass of tortured spirits. No redemption for the souls captured here. No redress possible to relieve their sorrow or their dread. So many souls spending time after poor bargains, bad decisions, trapped in a place where time itself plays no part. Their choices, their decisions, are reflected in his own. His own act of defiance with his maker.
All ugly events metered out here are subject to nothing beyond his ultimate whim. Although cast into these nethermost regions, he had no masters here. But… how he wished he could trade away this power for what was once his. No. He was forever denied even a glimpse of paradise.
And all this would never pass; for he was Lucifer, and this was hell.