I stood atop a blackened and charred rock, the dark tower ahead of me. From its peak, great rivers of magma flowed, a twisted mockery of an angel’s hair. Below, great flaming rivers spewed steam and ash into a sky carpeted with clouds darker than the depths of the universe. Not even trees survived here, their ashen corpses mocked me with gentle creaks as I passed by. My thoughts turned to the tower. No doubt Hades himself was inside, ruling his underworld with an iron fist and merciless gaze. From here, surrounded by ruin, my task seemed impossible. And yet only one thought remained in my mind. Escape. Where's the simile?