Chapter: The Eighth Circle of the Underworld, Fraud

As we descended deeper into the night,

The air grew cold, oppressive, thick with dread,

Where lies and treachery fed off the light.

This Eighth Circle, where deceit is bred,

Unfolded wide, a cavern dark and deep,

Where souls of fraudsters writhed among the dead.

The ground beneath us twisted, filled with steep

And narrow trenches spiraling below,

A labyrinth of lies where shadows creep.

"Welcome to Malebolge," Virgil's low

And steady voice declared as echoes died.

"Here, those who played with truth are bound in woe."

We walked the edge of pits where souls denied

The promises they gave, but hollow lies

Were all they grasped, illusions that defied

Their hopes, now crumbling dust before their eyes.

They reached for gold that vanished into air,

Their screams of anguish swallowed by the skies.

"These frauds of social media," his stare

Grew somber as he spoke, "are those who preyed

On dreams, who sold what never could be there.

They trapped their victims, promises displayed

As wealth or fame, yet all was but a trick,

A bait for those whose trust they then betrayed."

I watched a wretch with gaunt face, frail and sick,

Who reached for visions of a life in bloom,

But every time he touched, it turned too quick

To dust, to nothing, leaving only gloom.

His screams of loss, frustration's hoarse despair,

Resounded through the silence of his tomb.

"This is their work," I said with bitter air,

"They crafted lies of lives no one can gain,

And made the world believe these dreams were fair."

Virgil nodded, eyes full of pensive pain.

"They offer love, connection, all they know

That people crave, but in the end, disdain

Is all they leave, with hollow hearts below."

We moved along the trench where others fell,

Their souls ensnared in webs of fraud and woe.

The next ditch held the faces that could tell

Of contracts false, and scams so deftly laid,

That lives were lost, entrapped within a shell.

They wandered in a maze of lies displayed,

Each path a trap, each turn a tighter knot,

Their hopes now only phantoms that betrayed.

"These are the ones who fell for what was not,"

I murmured, seeing their despair unfold,

"They trusted promises, their lives forgot."

"And those who lured them in," Virgil's tone cold,

"Are bound here too, within this endless maze,

Their victims' pain their own fate to behold."

Then deeper still, where the deceivers gaze

Upon their empty screens, influencers trapped

In lives they'd crafted, now just hollow plays.

They sold their souls, their true selves tightly wrapped

In filters, lies, and endless, hollow praise,

But now, they find their voices have been capped.

They reach for viewers lost in voids of haze,

Their followers, their fame, dissolved in night,

Their cries for likes and shares ignored, unfazed.

"These souls once kings and queens," with sorrow's light,

Virgil explained, "of social empires high,

Are now but shadows in their own twilight."

We saw a woman with a forced bright eye,

Her smile a mask, her words a hollow ring,

Repeating lines, though no one did reply.

"This circle's curse," I said, my voice a sting,

"They lied to others, but themselves as well,

Now trapped in the very void they bring."

Virgil, his gaze deep with a sorrow fell,

"Here is the greatest fraud: themselves they sold,

And now, their empty lives will never quell."

We ventured further, seeing horrors bold,

Of prophets false, and traitors, fates entwined,

Of souls whose lies left stories never told.

But in the deepest trench, the most maligned,

Were those who used their power to divide,

To sow discord and chaos through mankind.

"These are the worst," said Virgil at my side,

"The ones who turned whole nations into flame,

Who used their lies for greed, and never tried

To see the truth, for power was their aim."

We watched them torn apart by chains they forged,

Their twisted words consuming them in shame.

The lies they spread now back upon them gorged,

Their very essence burning in the pyre

Of fraud they built, their fates forever scourged.

And as we walked the path that wound down dire,

The chill of truth, and lies that twisted whole,

Was felt within the core of this dark mire.

At last, we saw the heart that took the toll,

A tower made of glass that gleamed with screens,

Each promise there a trap for every soul.

"They sold a world of dreams," in sober means,

Virgil declared, "a place of false belief,

Where connections break and no one ever gleans

The truth, for it's been buried in the grief

Of those who fell to lies that twist the mind,

Where trust's betrayed, and hope is just a thief."

I saw the shadows of the ones behind

The screens, who pulled the strings of every tale,

Who shaped the world through stories undefined.

"They shaped the thoughts, the truths they did unveil,

They swayed the wars, the peace they undermined,

And made the lies so powerful, so frail."

And in that moment, as I watched, aligned

My thoughts to his, the depth of fraud laid bare,

I felt the weight of all mankind had pined.

"We must keep on," I said, with hope to share,

"There's still a way to break this chain of lies,

To free the truth, to cleanse the tainted air."

Virgil, his voice resolved, yet full of sighs,

Replied, "There's always hope if we persist,

And fight against the darkness as it tries

To shroud the world in shadows that resist.

The journey's long, the path is not yet clear,

But truth will guide us, if we can insist."

So onward, through the frauds we still held near,

We walked, the way ahead still full of fear,

But knowing now, the lies would not ensnare.