You find yourself at the bottom of the second circle of Dante's Inferno, Lust. There is a sheer cliff that drops to the third circle, Gluttony. With her feet in the third circle, an enormous nude succubus towers over the edge of the cliff plucking up victims from the second circle and devouring them whole and alive. Could she be the key to your revenge?
The air whips around you in relentless gusts, carrying the mingled cries of the damned—moans of ecstasy twisted into agony. You're knee-deep in the churning mire of the second circle, where the souls of the lustful whirl in an eternal storm, their forms tangled and torn by invisible tempests. The ground beneath your feet is slick with the residue of their endless pursuits, a fetid sludge that clings like regret. Ahead looms a sheer cliff, its jagged edge plummeting into the third circle below, w