⚔ Aᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ⚔

At the blazing heart of Phlegethos lies the Pit of Flame—a mile-wide cauldron of seething, reeking filth that belches columns of blinding white hellfire into the blackened sky. Unlike ordinary flame, this infernal blaze scalds soul and memory as much as flesh, inflicting torment so precise and agonizing that even devils scream beneath its touch. The Pit serves as both punishment and passage, a place where infernal ranks are solidified or sundered. Iron cages hang in concentric rings above the molten mire, each swinging gently in the heated drafts, holding devils undergoing torment for failure, insubordination, or at times, their own volition. For some, the pain is a crucible of ambition, a purifying flame endured to court favor from Belial or Fierna, or to transform themselves through suffering. The lake’s effluvium boils constantly, releasing nauseating vapors and hissing steam that flay the will. The Pit is not just punishment—it is ritual, currency, and control.

A vast lake of bubbling filth seethes beneath a sky of soot and flame, its surface erupting with white-hot hellfire that scorches the air itself. Above, iron cages sway from blackened chains, silhouetted in the glow, each containing shrieking figures twisted in agony. The ground nearby is scorched and cracked, trembling with each roar from the flaming pit, a place where even devils fear to linger—but many must.