Down in the darkness, down in the hot black twisting passageways of Hell, where the damned wept and the doubly damned made them weep, Lucifer sat in his palace; the bitter Prince of Hatred gloated at the shifting tides of a silent war that he waged eternally and had waged since the first human wished an enemy into eternal torture and thereby damned himself. The tides, so fickle of late, now shifted strongly in Lucifer's favor.
Above, in the world of light and the living, where all choices still remained and all options were always open, he felt his servants push open a floodgate . . . and as the leading edge came open, his enemies, flailing and protesting, fought its movement and by fighting gave it the anger and the hatred it needed to move the rest of the way.
God grant me a good enemy, he thought, for there are certainly times when an enemy can open doors no friend ever would.