Death woke in a comfortable bed of red silk sheets. On one side, Snow sat on a stool, staring at him with a lustful gaze. On the other side, Zanrel, the Elder Devil, humming in satisfaction as an advisor whispered that Death was awake. Everyone else was scattered across the room, either sat on the floor or leaning against a wall.

  A peanut hit Death in his eye.

  “Took ya bloody long enough to wake up!” Vera squawked. A second peanut slammed into his nostril. “You’ve gotta tell us what you saw in that fight! All we saw was black smoke!” She threw a third one at his forehead. “Start speakin’ or I’ll light you on fire!”

  Death caught the fourth peanut and ate it. Gods… I am hungry, he thought. And I’m still tired… did I fall asleep in that arena? Must have been the Dark Void draining my energy.

  “Doesn’t matter how the battle went,” Morgudeion boomed. “A human killed the fuckin’ Crooked Devil! I knew he had it him!”

  “Shame we didn’t see the battle,” Moleira said. “I really wanted to see Carithiel get a beating. Was he tough? Come on, give us all the details!”

  “Give the man rest, son,” Vunadeira chuckled. “The human will tell you what he wants, when he wants.”

  “I’m happy you’re okay,” Rica squeaked. “I never doubted.”

  “Nor did I,” Beion added.

  Snow kissed Death’s cheek. “Does this mean I get to do all of that cool stuff Deilon did with his sword?”

  Death sat upright and shook his head. “Carithiel’s power was not his own.” He pointed at Zanrel. “I believe it was his.”

  “Indeed,” the Elder Devil said in shame. “I didn’t think that he’d be using those powers in the arena. I should’ve known he was. When you bested him in my connection to the Dark Void, you revealed to Hell what he’d been doing.”

  “Your Crooked Devil was a fraud,” Death told. “You should change all engravings to the Fraud Devil. I struggled more against a baby boar. He had no strength in his strike. He was cowardly. A lot of his slaves should be pleased that they no longer serve weakness.”

  Death took Vera’s daggers from his belt and gave them. He went to give Firedick to Snow, seeing it was not in his sheathe.

  “I’m getting better at calling back my summons,” she said in a whisper. “Soon I’ll be able to fight with you.”

  “Soon the whole of Hell shall fight with you,” Vuna said. “Your speech gave the crowd hope those Kans will finally get what they deserve.”

  “Better be damned soon!” Morgudeion roared. “I’m getting’ old and greyer! I wanna crack some head before I go!”

  “I’m sure you will,” said Vuna. “Eclipus shines brighter with the victory of the human. A war is coming.”

  “The eclipse looked the same to me,” Vera moaned.

  “A figure of speech,” Vuna chuckled. “So, human, was the battle in the Dark Void one for the books?”

  Death left the bed and looked at his reflection in a mirror. He still felt the nicks on his knuckles from Carithiel’s sword even with them not being there.

  His fear was me, Death thought. Did he know who I was? He is an angel; there was a mural of the scarred man in that ruins. Maybe I was there when Heaven fell… but then how I have heard the tale of it falling from my own mother? I shouldn’t let this plague my mind, that devil wouldn’t have told me a thing if I’d asked anyway.

  “We should return to our home of the Flames,” Ash suggested. “Brother, nephew, you may come too if you wish.”

  Moleira looked to his father for an answer. “One night wouldn’t anger the old man,” Vuna said cheerfully. “Tonight calls for the Flames to celebrate!”

  “Thank you,” Zanrel said. “You have done Hell a great Service, Death. Should you truly find a way to unless the demons on the Kans and Naveen, I shall be there too, even with my blindness.”

  Beion brought them all back to his home. Death was still tired. He broke away from the celebration and searched for a room, which Aleirica happily offered her own for him to stay in. Unlike Beion’s room, which had decorations, Rica’s was barren, only with a bed and a single table with a chair.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” Rica squeaked. “Anything that would make you more comfortable?”

  Death gave a grunt to say no.

  “Beion wants to come with you when you return to Valan, I heard him whispering it to our mother,” she said. “Look after him, please. Mother won’t let me come with you.”

  “I’ll look after him.” Death sat on the bed with a yawn. “I can use his portals to my advantage.”

  She hugged his neck, then hopped away in embarrassment after seeing Snow in the doorway. To Rica’s surprise, Snow hugged the demon too.

  “You’ll travel with us too one day,” she whispered in Rica’s ear. “Then we can have pancakes everyyyy morning.”

  She expressed how much she’d love that, then left Death and Snow to have their moment alone.

  “Think I’ll need a change of clothing soon,” she joked. “These winter clothes in Hell make me feel like I’m trapped in a furnace.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Death’s head felt fuzzy as she sat on his lap. His body ached. His neck was sore. He wasn’t sure why they were, considering the battle he’d fought wasn’t fought physically. Snow saw the twitch of his eyes when she put her hands on his tender skin, now gentle with her touches.

  “All those battles must be catching up to you,” she said. “Even a conqueror who drains his enemies needs a little rest.”

  “There is no time for rest. I must kill Godwin Valan. I must find the scarred man and take back all that was mine.”

  There was more to Death’s aching than just his battles. A subtle rot of his mind that convinced him he was failing. Being in the Dark Void had amplified his own hatred of himself, consuming him like a tumour—his head fell into Snow’s chest out of weakness, and she cradled it gently.

  Pain was not a word to describe what he felt. For him, it felt as if thousands of knives were stabbing his brain. He couldn’t form a thought, not even to alert Snow of his anguish. All he could do was hold his breathe and endure.

  It ended abruptly, causing him to take a sharp breath.

  “Going into the Dark Void has consequences,” he guessed.

  Snow quickly gave him a kiss while he breathless. A flood of memories hit him—his mother, the girl tormenting his past, the day he lost his powers to the scarred man—he didn’t know what made him do, but he kissed her back with equal passion, throwing her onto the bed and pinning himself on top of her.

  Her own breath got faster as she removed Death’s shirt, which he allowed. She ran a hand from his abs to his shoulder, kissing his neck as she struggled to remove her thick winter clothing with only one hand.

  The cloth got to her breast, which made Death grab her wrist and stop her from going any further.

  “What’s wrong?” she whimpered “Did I do something wrong?”

  Death looked at her, confused, unsure of what took over him for last twenty seconds. She kissed him again. He didn’t react to it.

  “I can’t do this,” Death said. He looked at her worried face and put a hand on her cheek, which made her smile a little. “How did you break the seal of my tomb, Snow? When I came out, all I felt was rage and vengeful desires… each time you’ve been close to me, those feelings have lessened.” He remembered what Ashlereina said to him before his fight in the arena. “If I were to fall, why is your face the thing I would think of?”

  “It is?” she squeaked, blushing. “That’s… nice.”

  “This is serious, Snow. How did you unseal me?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that you’ve proven to be everything I’ve ever wanted. I wouldn’t change anything about you.”

  “If we’re going to conquer these lands together, I need to know that you truly don’t know how you did it. No secrets.”

  “I promise I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “No secrets, ever. I want to be a goddess, standing at the side of the mightiest god, you, and I will never stop until we have that.”

  ————————————————————————

  Beion had locked himself and Vera away in his bedroom. He pulled a chest out from under his bed, showing her his collection of wooden carvings, flimsy daggers, and terrible poetry. He liked to make things in his spare time but never found out what he was good at making.

  “Rahhh, you made all of this stuff?” Vera asked. “Better than anything I could do. What’s all this poetry? Hm, this one looks cool, the fox with the—”

  Beion snatched it from her hand. “Don’t read that one,” he said flatly. “Read any others. This one is unfinished.

  “The fox with the what?” she teased. “You made a fuss about breaking my heart, yet you’re writing poetry about me.”

  Beion lit the paper aflame after ripping it in half. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She took a dagger from the chest and then shut it, pushing it back under the bed. She put the edge against his chin.

  “You’ll have to rewrite it,” she said, running her tongue across her canine teeth. “Or I’ll have to have myself a demon snack.”

  “I’m not tasty.”

  “You’ve been in my mouth once before. You are tasty.”

  Beion had never been more thankful for the thickness of his room’s walls. She put the knife into her pocket.

  “I’ll be taking this dagger,” she said. “I’ll use it to cut the throats of any on our journey that don’t like the cambions.”

  “It’s a terrible one,” he mumbled. “The edge is blunt. The ones of your gifts are much better.”

  She shushed him with a finger, then touched his stunted horns. “I like the ones that have a little dysfunction,” she said softly, taking his hand and putting it under her winter coat, allowing him to cup one of her breasts. “My horns are little too… see? Doesn’t change what they are. Horns are horns. Knives are knives—”

  “I think they’re perfect,” Beion whispered. “There’s nothing wrong with them.”

  She gave a mischievous smile. “Get on your bed, demon-boy,” she ordered. “I want to see if you believe your own words.”

  ————————————————————————

  Morgudeion, Aleirica, and Moleira took one couch each. The tiny demon daughter snored the loudest of the three. Ashlereina and her brother stood outside in the yard, staring up at Eclipus.

  “Father will be furious that you and Moleira stayed with us for the night,” Ash told him. “He always beat you harder. Not wise.”

  “That’s the price that comes with being firstborn.”

  She walked the fencing of her home and tended to her black-wooled sheep, feeding them grains that Beion had stolen from the human world. She checked to make sure Rica was asleep before her next words.

  “My daughter loves the human. She always did fall in love with things so easily—dancing, thieving, rabbits. I fear this is one that we can’t make her see reason in.”

  “Is that so terrible?” Vuna chuckled. “Moleira hasn’t even begun looking for any mates.”

  “The human is spoken for. His soul is tied with Snow’s; I can sense it myself.”

  “Then kill her,” Vera suggested seriously. “It wouldn’t be the first time a cambion has killed a rival. Morgudeion did so with the one you were considering.”

  “It was romantic of him to do,” Ash sighed. “But I believe his fate is tied to hers. She dies; he dies.”

  “A pity. She agreed to train with me. I could’ve made it look like an accident.”

  “Snow is nice. I wouldn’t want you to kill her even if it was an option for us to take. Train her well. I will deal with the emotions of my daughter when the time calls for it.”

  “And I will deal with our father. It’s best we keep the mention of Death’s speech away from him.”

  “About the succubus? I agree. He would kill the human to protect the demon and repopulate the species.”

  “Maybe we can strike a deal with him, if his claim is true,” Vuna suggested. “Force the succubus to create one more, then let him kill her.”

  Ashlereina agreed to this plan.

  “Times are changing,” he continued. “When the human sticks to his word and rides against the Kans, I want you to be by my side, even if father disallows it.”

  Ashlereina smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”