Honestly, darling, Astaroth's laugh was so powerful it caused a literal earthquake in the Ninth Circle.
"My Queen," he growled, his voice a mix of thunder and pure devotion, "I've prepared the most exclusive cabana in Hell for you: The Sulfur Coast." With a single snap of his fingers, we were teleported from the gray monotony of Purgatory to a private paradise that makes the Maldives look like a budget motel.
Forget turquoise waters; here, the rivers flow with glowing, phosphoric orange and red lava. The lounge chairs? Hand-carved from ancient dragon bone and draped in the downy feathers of a phoenix. And the cocktails... oh, the "Inferno-Fizz"! A frozen diamond-dust rim with fruit from the deepest groves of the abyss—it freezes your glass but sets your soul on fire.
I reached into my custom, smoke-proof designer tote and pulled out a sleek black bottle labeled "SPF 666 – Eternal Protection."
