The castle is on a hill, and Hell is spread out under them, a vast land of red and black spreading as far as the eye can see. The rolling plains that would be green on earth are bright red here, and the winding lines of rivers are made of black lava rather than blue water. In the distance crouches a collection of fanglike mountains. Fires are burning everywhere: big ones and small ones alike, sending up thin plumes of smoke into the twilight-coloured sky. Surprisingly the temperature is not that hot: maybe twenty degrees. There’s a village at the bottom of the hill where the houses are carved from grey stone and ash.