Story Below. Continues in the comments.
Art by: @neverager (www.artstation.com/neverager) Found his artstation looking for fitting art, and it’s insane. I highly suggest checking his work out.
Rotiart clutched his cloak tightly, and made his way across the frozen and deserted halls of the Infernal Palace. The wind slithered and hissed around him, biting him with icy fangs, spreading cold down his already ashen face, seeking to envelop his very bones in frost.
His eyes strayed to the sharp maw of stalactites hanging like a thousand swords above him. He quickened his pace, cursed under his breath. His extremities trembled wildly. He couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering. Even his heart seemed to be shivering.
He quickened his pace, and soon past an enormous, frostbitten door he went. Beyond was the cold, silent ghost of a chamber that once blazed with black flames and resounded with the shrilling and ever-so-loud screams of tortured heavenlings.
He gazed at the throne at the end of the chamber, and at the trembling creature sitting on it. Satan, the Devil, they called him. He had many names and he had many shapes, all vastly different, but all equally terrifying.
All but this one. For he had taken the shape of an old man with skin paler than bone, and limbs thinner than twigs.
Rotiart stood before him, met his eyes, and shook his head. “I couldn’t find the source of the blizzard, your majesty.”
Continues in the comments