The Pleasures of Hell 03.047

~~David~~

Being a prisoner on the move, especially when he could do something about it but didn't, was infuriating. It was like sitting in a chair while someone yelled at you, and you could punch them and shut them up, but you didn't, because you knew it'd cause more problems than it solved. If Silvain and Laoko could help them cross the Scar, or at least reach its ruler without any incidents, that was a good thing.

Problem. A hundred demons surrounded David and the girls. If David had a good position and good awareness of the area, he might be able to play a song that'd take the demons out. He could do surgical attacks. He could do large-scale attacks. But both at the same time? Not so much. The better he got at playing the music, the more it felt like he was playing, and conducting. Playing songs that affected large areas was like playing in and conducting an entire symphony at once. Playing songs that affected smaller things directly, specifically, felt far more nuanced, full of depth.

Multitasking. He sucked at it compared to most people. He'd have to be a virtuoso prog metal drummer to handle the multi tasking to play a song that'd attack all demons around him on all sides, taking into account each specific demon, and the area as a whole.

If he got all the demons in front of him in a big group, it'd be so much better. Cast fireball. Boom, done.

They walked along in the fog, Caera, Jes, and Dao in front of him, the Las and Laoko -- fifth honorary La -- behind him. He glanced back, looked for giant cape-like wings, and found none. No Acelina. Those hoof clops were Laoko's.

He looked at the ground in front of him, curled his fingers, played an unheard note, and pulled up a small spike of blackstone from the ground. He gestured with his left hand, gently backhanding the air, and the spike collapsed, crumbling. Every minute, he summoned another spike, tried a unique shape, and knocked it aside. He summoned some small tombstones, grew them from a foot under the ground where the white stone coalesced. Not as durable as blackstone. More like marble. It crumbled more easily.

"I thought," Laoko said, coming up and standing beside him, "that manipulating Hell like this drained you?"

"It does." He summoned a thin spike of blackstone, grabbed it, and played a note to crack it off at the base. Little notes, tiny things, gentle taps of a xylophone. "This is exhausting."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Because it's important." He tossed the spike aside. "And because I can tell I'm getting better at it. The more I do, the less energy it takes, and the more specific I can make things." With a curl of his fingers, he summoned another spike, and curled it so it spiraled horizontally on the way up. A meter long, nothing special, but the spring shape was difficult to make. The point was the difficulty. "Next time I have to do something crazy, I don't want to be overwhelmed. Only way to do that is practice."

"Practice..."

"You never practiced something?"

She shook her head, and her absurdly long tendril hair bounced against her back and hips.

"Demons do not practice. We simply are. Skills we learn are honed by hunting and fighting."

"You never think to practice something before you need it?"

"Hatchlings play fight, if they trust each other. But that is mostly it." She nodded to the fog above. "Angels are the same. They have their skills, innate to them that they build through experience. But to practice to learn? That is a human trait. I doubt a demon could learn something beyond their innate skills."

Daoka looked back, clicked twice, and kept walking.

Laoko raised a brow and glanced down at David. "She disagrees."

David looked at Dao's back and watched her walk. Clop clop, hooves much quieter than Laoko's. What was her secret? Did it have something to do with a skill?

He almost asked, but the fog ahead darkened, and Silvain's wings emerged. His weapon was drawn.

David and the girls came closer, and froze. Every demon Silvain had with him had stopped, weapons drawn, but none said a word, growled, roared, or so much as thudded a breastplate. They all stared ahead into the fog.

Oh no.

David walked forward, past Dao and Jes. Caera joined him, prowled beside him, and they both stopped at Silvain's side.

No need to ask. They all felt it, the unusual aura that ripped through the air, invisible, unheard, felt on the soul and not the skin. It didn't punch or stab like a demon's sin aura. It didn't vibrate through the world like David's aura. No one's aura was on except the rider's, a shadow of red in the distance that gently trotted closer on his goort. And the closer he got, the more his aura enveloped them, a crashing wind of death in its harshest form. Hot or cold failed to describe it. There was hate, and rage, but it transcended them, became something David couldn't put a word on. Rancor, malice, they all failed.

The rider's aura felt like murder incarnate. And the bastard had gotten ahead of them and cut them off.

"So much for him being a mindless dog," Caera said. "The fuck do we do?"

David squinted at the man as he came fully into view. A slightly large man in massive, heavy armor, but still tiny compared to demons. But every demon took a few steps back, Silvain included, as the rider came closer. Thick, full body armor made of red, gold, and bronze. A skull-shaped helmet that hid his face in the shadow of a T-slit opening. Two axes of the same color hung on his back, with blades glowing amber along their edges.

Silvain rumbled in his chest and dug at the ground with his foot claws.

"Stop," he said.

The rider came closer, but came to a stop at the edge of the fog. The demons traded glances. Did the rider just listen to Silvain?

The rider reached behind him and drew both axes.

"Kill the unmarked or die," he said. Every demon except the imps and grems was bigger than him. A goliath of a man was still just a man, compared to the entities of Heaven and Hell. But the man and his dull, boring voice came closer, and towered over everyone anyway.

"No," Silvain said. With a heavy snarl, he flared his wings and drew a line in the ground with his sword. "I have a hundred demons with me. Many are Azailia's best." He nodded toward Laoko. "Two tetrads." He nodded toward David. "And the unmarked himself. Do you really think you can fight us all? Alone?"

The rider didn't move. On his goort, he was basically a statue, and only the occasional shift of the giant horse's head broke the illusion.

David braced for the inevitable 'I'm not alone' line. None came. He was alone. The rider sat unmoving, axes at his sides in hand, skull helmet and its t-slit opening showing nothing of the man within. Just darkness.

The goort charged forward, and the demons charged to meet him. A tide of red and black skin, wings, hooves, and claws flowed in from the sides. Some rushed past David and Silvain. Some charged in from the edge of the fog from behind the rider; they'd snuck around. Every demon Silvain had brought with him charged the rider.

Silvain didn't. He and Laoko stayed with David, and the woman slowly drew her four swords.

"The rider defeated a squadron of angels," Laoko said. "Alone."

Silvain snorted. "Unmarked. Azailia assures me you will help."

"She did?"

He snorted again.

Fuck. The rider getting ahead of them and cutting them off hadn't been part of the plan, but apparently Azailia was convinced David would jump in and help them if he had to? The fuck kind of plan was that? Fucking demons.

"I'll try," he said, "but get your demons out of the way."

Silvain bellowed and slammed his sword against the ground, shattering chunks of white stone. Every demon came to a grinding halt and looked back at Silvain with angry eyes. They wanted to be in the attack, a suicidal attack against a man no one had ever beaten in combat.

The rider didn't so much as look their way, his shadowed gaze pointed straight ahead, directly at David. And he'd reach him in seconds.

Hopefully, no angels above would see this fight through the fog.

David summoned his armor. Demons shrieked and jumped back as a red light engulfed him, and black and red metal replaced his red silks. Body armored, staff in hand, he aimed the ember jewel at the rider and played a simple song.

The ground cracked open, a canyon that split wide and straight in front of David down the line to the rider. The goort jumped, put deer to shame, soared seven meters up, high over everyone, and landed behind David and the girls.

David spun. The rider spun, goort's hooves digging and skidding along the gravel-like ground, and he charged David again. The Las squealed and dove out of the way, and Laoko and Caera turned and tried to put themselves between him and the rider in time. Even Moriah was surprised, and threw herself to the side, out of the way of the goort and its armor.

The rider wanted to get close asap. What good was a wizard when the fighter gets in his face and cuts off his head with an axe?

David grit his teeth, aimed his staff again, and played another song. Blackstone erupted from the ground around the rider, all sides, and shot up, and up, and up. A barrier ten meters high, a meter thick. A cage in the shape of a tube.

If he couldn't pull the rider under the ground again, he'd trap him another way.

"What's the plan!?" he yelled, and shot a glare at Silvain and the hundred demons standing around at the fog's edge. "This won't hold him for long!"

Silvain looked up at the circular wall surrounding the rider, squeezed his sword's grip, and tapped its tip against the ground again.

"Wound the rider. Stop him from following. Reach Tarkissa."

"That's it!? That's your plan!?"

Loud thuds resonated in the barrier, again and again. Each shook the wall, the ground David had grown it from, and resonated in the chamber like a cellmate smashing their bars with a sledgehammer, but sharper. Each sound pierced his ears and brain. The rider was using his axes to chop the rock apart.

Silvain shot his red glare down at David. "He was not supposed to be ahead of us."

"You think!? I--"

The blackstone barrier shattered. It crumbled around the rider, slabs of stone, each weighing a ton, but he raised his axes and brushed off the ridiculous weight. Still on his mount, the goort stood strong and let the falling rubble smash against its armor. None created so much as a dent, and if the aera armor scratched, David couldn't see it.

David swung his staff forward and summoned a spike from the ground, but the goort hopped to the side. He summoned a dozen more, each spike as tall as Silvain, each a dense, sharp barb of blackstone, each aimed at an angle from the ground up toward the rider and his mount, but the goort hopped left and right around each. This wasn't like last time. The rider was learning.

Another swing of the staff, and David summoned a host of jagged spikes, nine at once, each covered in harsh barbs that jutted out in random directions. And they were massive, each spike a couple meters thick, and they grew twenty meters long. The rider couldn't dodge all of them, and one collided with the goort's underside. The armor was impenetrable, and the goort flew back and landed on its side.

The rider did not land on his side. He hopped off as the goort flew back, landed on his feet, and charged straight at David, the weight of his armor announced with each heavy step.

Too close. The man was too damn close for David to do anything big. He summoned another array of spikes, but the rider push forward. A spike collided with his chest and sent him back, but the rider turned, and sparks erupted from his armor as the black spike scrapped across it. He landed a few paces back and charged forward again.

More. David reached down, found a heavier song, and heavier chord, and launched it upward with an ascending scale, driving the music up to a screeching high. The ground erupted from underneath them, sent everyone to their knees, and David drove his staff into the ground. A platform of white stone shot up from the ground and drove up through the air and backward. A giant tombstone. He had to be careful to not pierce the fog too high and signal nearby angels, but he had to push the rider back and get him away.

The rider flew back. David couldn't see through the white stone wall, but the sound of metal hitting metal told him he'd succeeded. He waved his staff and brought the giant tombstone down, crumbling it and sending it back into the dirt so he could see his enemy.

The rider got up, surrounded by rubble and raining dirt, and marched David's way. Not running this time. He walked slow, each step heavy, and the man didn't so much as glance at the demons that surrounded him on all sides. They wanted to jump him, fight him, tear into him, take his heart and power, take his skull as a trophy, anything. They were idiots.

David glanced down at Caera. She looked angry, and ready to fight. He looked up at Laoko. Same thing, if more reserved. Dao and Jes stood beside Caera, both flexing their fingers, ready to brawl, no matter how scared they were. Only the Las looked outright scared, but he knew them. They'd fight, too, if it came to it. Demons were inhuman.

And Moriah. Moriah had bigger reason to fight the rider than anyone, and standing with the demons, she stared at the man in aera armor as he walked past her. Not a glance, not a shrug, not a single sign of recognition from the rider. He kept his skull-shaped bronze and red helmet pointed at David, and marched.

And David was getting tired.

"Get back!" David yelled.

The rider kept walking.

"Uh, David," Caera said. "I don't think--"

"All of you! Get back!" He wasn't talking to the rider.

The demons shot their gazes his way, finally getting it. They hopped back, and hop turned to dive when lava burst from the ground.

Even without the goort, the rider could jump, so David summoned lava with the same sneaking death of a sinkhole. No rumbling. No explosive geyser that might summon angels. Just a hole that slowly opened, and lava bubbled up from. Ground softened, blackstone, dirt, and white stone turned dust, all to get swallowed up by the blood of Hell.

David aimed his staff, ruby aimed at the rider, and ruined the ground underneath the man's boots. The rider tried to jump, but with the ground turned soft underneath him, he had nothing to jump from. Quicksand and lava. Lava itself wasn't simply lava in Hell, but something different, something like Hellfire, something that boiled and clashed resonance and essence together, melting them down into liquid that glowed amber, and burned all who touched it. The runes glowed in his mind, told him what hellfire was, what the lava was, how it was a part of Hell and her flesh, how her flesh absorbed resonance and essence.

Like lyrics, to a song.

The rider trudged forward. No more jump attempts, he walked forward, even as the lava pushed up to his waist. It wasn't a lava-proof wetsuit. It was full plate armor, with a thousand places in its many joints for lava to sneak into. And black smoke leaked out from the rider's joints.

He kept coming, and plodded up the slope out of the sinkhole. He paused only long enough to stomp one foot, then the other, sending heavy globs of lava off his armor to the ground.

Oh fuck.

"A little help?" David asked, stepping back.

Silvain snorted, thudded his sword against the ground, and the demons swarmed. In a harmonious battle cry, the tide of red and black skin poured over the blackstone spikes and debris, and fell upon the rider.

A dozen went for the goort, but the creature was too fast and evaded them. The rider was not, and disappeared behind a veil of muscle, claws, and wings. Some demons were thrown back into the lava as it trickled around and spread like veins. Others split in half under the rider's axes, and their bodies erupted into flame. None of them backed off, or fled, or so much as looked in a different direction to consider options.

A brute got his hands on the rider's right arm and lifted. Another brute caught his left arm's axe by the shaft. While dangling in the air, the rider pulled his arms in, and both brutes got pulled in with them. They crashed against each other, let go of the rider, and the armored man landed on his sabatons with a resounding thud. He spun, slashed one brute in the stomach deep enough to hit his spine, spun the opposite direction, and cut off the arm of the other brute trying to take advantage of the situation.

A tiger jumped on his back, but for all her weight, she didn't knock him over. She clawed at his helmet, tried to get it off, but it remained, unmoving, and the rider did not topple. He turned, and her long body half twisted around close enough he brought his axe down, and chopped through her tail; it was too thick to cut off in a single swing, and the tregeera shrieked. She fell, and died a second later, axe through her throat, and head now burning on the ground.

Other demons fell into replace those that died without hesitation. They roared at their target, screamed with hunger and rage of their own. Many of them turned on their auras and drowned the area in the boiling heat of their desire. Blood drunk, the demons buried the rider in their mass, and he cut through them like an explorer cutting through vines in a jungle with his machete. Their bodies fell, and they burned.

Between the demon limbs and wings, the rider's shadowed gaze found David, and he pushed toward him.

"David," Caera said, "we have to get out of here."

Silvain shot her a glare. "If we cannot kill him, we have to wound him first."

"He's got lava burning him alive inside his armor," David said, gasping. "The fuck else can we do?" Sweat dripped across his eyes. His lungs burned. He stumbled back and Laoko caught his shoulder.

A deafening crack silenced them all. Half a dozen demons imploded, bodies collapsing inward at the impact spot of the gold beam of light that cut across their bodies. The horizontal arc of golden energy smashed into the pile of demons fighting the rider, cut many in two, and crashed against the rider's armor. It shattered into gold specs and beautiful flakes that fell harmlessly to the ground.

The rider turned his head long enough to look at Moriah, and get another gold beam of energy against his body. Moriah stepped closer, eyes glaring from behind her helmet. In the chaos, no one had even noticed the angel don her armor and summon her weapon. She wielded her sword with two hands, swung it again, and again summoned a golden arc of energy that shot from the weapon and crashed into the rider, hard. The gold explosion was small, but the impact of the energy was not, each like thunder, and the rider stumbled slightly to one side.

She unleashed another. What demons had survived her first attack had jumped clear, and they stared at the angel as much as the rider as Moriah unleashed another beam, and another. Each crashed into the rider's armor and exploded, gold shards falling uselessly to the ground. Again, the rider stumbled to the side with each impact, announced by shattering glass. More, and more, until Moriah fell to a knee, gasping, sword stuck in the ground and her single wing hanging limp behind her.

It was day, and the fog was white. Maybe the angels above hadn't seen Moriah's display? Fucking big maybe.

The rider slowly turned his gaze to David and again walked his way.

"You do not walk away from me!" Moriah yelled, stood, and again swung her sword in the rider's direction. Another beam, same result. It smashed into the rider's side, made him stumble a few inches, but didn't slow him down. "How dare you! I said--"

"No!" Lasca shrieked, and she pulled on Moriah's leg. "Stay back!"

The Las joined her, and two imps and two grems overpowered the mighty angel and dragged her away from the rider. She fought them, kicked at them, but the moment she took her weight off a foot, her armor and weapon disappeared in a small gold flash. She fell. Four sets of hands and wings caught her, and the little ladies pulled the exhausted woman from the battle.

Silvain tilted his head toward David. "He is distracted. Bury him."

David shook his head. "He's looking right at me."

"He--"

Thundering hoofs and claws drew everyone's eyes. Only the rider didn't notice, or didn't care, body pointed at David, but the demons glanced back the way they came at the sound of oncoming demons. More roars, more battle cries, and cheering?

Forty demons burst from the fog, and they charged in formation, Timaeus in front. With a big, joyful grin on the gorujin tetrad's face, he jumped over the lava pool, and crashed onto the rider's back. A gorujin had to weigh three or four times what a tiger did, and the rider collapsed to a single knee. It was enough. Timaeus flapped his wings hard, jumped back, and narrowly avoided an axe to the chest. The rider had turned to face the tetrad, and was again buried in a fresh batch of hungry, deluded demons.

"Now!" Silvain whispered.

"Now? But Timaeus..." He looked up at Laoko.

Laoko glared hard at Silvain, but spoke to David. "Do it."

He gulped down hard. Maybe it was because of the rider's aura, the aura of the demons throwing their lives away, but it was easier to find that part of him that wanted to fight. Some piece of him was okay with killing a few dozen demons, all for the chance to put a splinter in the rider's foot. He hated that feeling.

He aimed his staff, and played his first song again, faster, louder, and the ground erupted. Some demons were fast enough to jump away, but some were not, locked in battle with the rider and trying and failing to stop the swings of his axes. But they were enough to keep him from noticing, and the ground opened up around them. A hellquake ripped through the area, shattered tombstones, sent rocks scattering in all directions, and ripped a seam through the dirt. Lava splashed and demons screamed as it melted through their bodies, but their cries died away, disappearing into shadow, as the rider and a dozen demons fell into the black.

David stood over the crack, glared down into it, and watched. Lava trickled into the canyon from cracks and ridges in its walls, and deep down, sharp rocks awaited everyone who fell in. Some demons got their claws on the walls and began the climb to escape, but most fell into the depths of Hell, some colliding with lava and hellfire on the way down.

It wasn't enough. As he knew the rider would, the man in armor summoned his wings of fire, and guided himself into the canyon wall. With wings flapping, pushing him into the stone for leverage, he slammed his axes into the rock and climbed, like an ice climber with two picks.

David looked at the demons climbing the canyon walls too, swallowed down the bile in his throat, and waved his staff. A powerful, heavy song was needed, something like an explosion in music form. He played it, a monumental climax that shook the walls of his mind. The two canyon walls slammed together, and rocks erupted up from the seam, scattering over the ground and the demons above. Everyone fell, even Caera, the ground almost twisting underneath them to smash the two canyon walls together.

The goort was gone. It hadn't fallen into the hole. Maybe it'd come back to find the rider? Because there was no way he was dead. Buried, again, but not dead.

Timaeus climbed back to his feet and stared down at where the canyon once was.

"You killed him?" he asked.

"He's survived similar before," David said. "Your demons..."

Whatever care Timaeus had for his demons, dead to the rider's axes, dead to Moriah's beams, or dead to David's music, he didn't let it show beyond a quick, angry glance thrown David's way, and Moriah's. It wasn't only his demons that'd died. About fifty remained in total, two thirds of which worked for Silvain and Laoko, a small sum compared to the original hundred they had, and the forty Timaeus had brought.

"Why are you here?" Laoko asked.

"Azailia sent us to follow you," Timaeus said. "She thought this might happen."

"Then why didn't you join us earlier?"

Timaeus shrugged. "So the rider wouldn't see it coming."

David winced and looked up at Laoko. Surprise cut across her face, and anger, but she bit it down and turned. Her boss hadn't told her everything, and she hadn't liked that.

The ground rumbled. Everyone stared at the seam in the dirt, before looking at David, but he shook his head.

"It's the rider," he said. "Let's go, before he gets out."

"He can survive that?" a demon asked.

"I stabbed him in the face, once," Moriah said. "We do not know how to kill him."

The demons stared at her, at David, back down at the seam, and followed. Silvain marched. Laoko glanced back at Timaeus, and Timaeus shared an angry glance with her. Angry about all the dead demons, or angry about Azailia not telling her the truth about Timaeus, or angry David just killed a bunch of demons, or that many had died as nothing more than fodder to slow the rider down, or--

David stumbled forward. His armor disappeared, potram replaced it, and he landed on his palms.

"David!" Caera came in close on all fours and stood in front of him. "David, you're bleeding."

"Bleeding? The rider--" He touched his face. Blood trickled from his nose. A droning sound buzzed in his skull, and blackness flickered on the edge of his vision. Hunger came next, a deep, gnawing hunger that dragged him down and down.

Caera nudged against him. "You're exhausted. Get on."

He put his hands on her, but someone else got their hands on him. Titanic fingers wrapped around his throat, picked him up, and turned him. Silvain's hand.

"Silvain!" Caera yelled and turned to face him.

A tide of demons came their way and threw themselves at the girls. David didn't get to see it. Silvain held him up, squeezed his neck, and the buzzing in David's head grew louder. Blackness took him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~Unknown~~

A man standing on slabs of white feather and silk, draped over mountains. Feather and silk, white, impervious to the blood that stained the land, or the burning sky above. The man stared down at the drop behind him, a colossal fall from the odd mountain of soft curves and its white surface. Ahead of him, the woman in aera armor had summoned her wings of flame, and fought off a dozen angels.

An angel with a sword and shield got past her, came for the man, and cut off his head.

For a few seconds, the world tumbled. Right. The man's head, rolling down the hill of white flesh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~Day 68~~

~~David~~

He woke up the next day. He knew it was the next day because of Hell's weird approach to sleep, mechanical, no dreaming, his brain just switched on or off when he wanted it to. It also meant no confusion, or rush of awareness. He woke up knowing exactly what had happened.

Silvain had choked him out. Getting knocked unconscious was bad for the brain, very bad, whether it be from a hard knock to the temple, or lack of oxygen because some fucker knew where to squeeze on the neck to block blood flow. Why a demon would even know how to do that, David didn't know; demons rarely bothered knocking souls unconscious. Hopefully, brain damage from oxygen deprivation wasn't a thing in Hell.

It hadn't been entirely dreamless, though. Another vision. Another dead unmarked the woman in armor had failed to protect.

That'd been a strange place. A white mountain, with soft skin? And giant white feathers?

Angel's Spine.

"He's awake," a voice said. He didn't recognize it. Probably just some random demon asshole.

The world was blurry. Was his head still tumbling down a mountainside, separated from his body? No. That'd been the vision. Then why was the world still moving and bumping?

Someone was holding him. Silvain.

"This is absurd." That was a voice he did recognize. Laoko. "Let the boy go."

"No." Silvain's voice.

David forced his eyes open and fought against the blurs. If it wasn't his head rolling down a white hill, then there was no reason for the world to continue moving, but it was. Sensation came back. Silvain had a hand around his waist, and was literally carrying him. Not exactly gentle about it, either. That explained the world constantly moving up and down. He was being carried like a handbag.

"You saw what happened," Laoko said. "He is drained. He is no threat."

"Of course he's a threat. He might summon a drop of strength and escape."

Laoko snarled. "You're hurting him."

"He will be fine."

David looked around. The girls. Where were the girls? There were a good fifty demons left from his fight with the rider, and all of them circled David, Silvain, and Laoko. Timaeus? He walked behind Silvain. David couldn't see his face.

"David," Laoko said. "I am sorry. Please understand, we--"

"Caera." He put his hands on Silvain's fingers, straightened his body as best he could, and glared up at Laoko. "The girls. Where are they?"

"Your friends fled," Silvain said. With how sinister his tone was, it was a surprise he didn't follow it up with an evil chuckle. Fucker probably thought it was an insult.

Fled? He held Laoko's eyes, and she looked down and nodded.

David hid his smile. If the girls were alive, then they hadn't fled. They were probably following the group right now, looking for a way to save him. Silvain just didn't get that. Did Laoko? Did Timaeus?

David groaned and looked at the fingers circling his waist and chest. A big hand, but not so big it could circle his torso without uncomfortable, stabbing pressure on his ribs and belly from the tetrad's fingers. Pain ached up through David's guts, and he looked down at his stomach, searching for where the tetrad had accidentally stabbed him with his claws. He hadn't. The pain was from an empty stomach.

"Why?" he asked. "Why do this?"

Silvain snorted and didn't answer.

"It's..." Laoko shook her head. "Azailia insists you be taken to Tarkissa, and... apparently needs you to be weakened, depleted, on arrival."

Oh god, were they gonna take him all the way there without letting him eat? His stomach was going to devour him from the inside out.

"Tarkissa?" The spire ruler in the Scar.

"Yes," she said. "He will have plans for you."

The more they talked, the more obvious it was that Laoko didn't like what was happening, and didn't know the details. Or she was manipulating him with her facial expressions and tone of voice. But then, why would she do that? If the girls had fled and David was their prisoner, she had no reason to lie about anything anymore.

Okay, so, that meant Laoko was genuinely not liking the situation. Probably. But she still let it happen, and Timaeus, too. Not that David was friends with Timaeus or anything, but the guy didn't seem to like the situation much either, from the way he was scowling at Silvain's back.

Plan. He needed a plan. Convince Timaeus and Laoko to betray Silvain and Azailia? For all David knew, Azailia's plan was literally just to get him to Tarkissa, and then let him go. Nah, probably not. Whatever they wanted to do with him, it wasn't to help him reach False Gate and the Forgotten Place. So he had to convince Laoko and maybe Timaeus to help him.

How the fuck was he going to do that? Give Laoko puppy-dog eyes and ask nicely? Mia might pull that off. Not him. But maybe he could at least get into better hands so he didn't break any ribs.

"Can you--" Getting carried like a purse was turbulent, and he groaned. "Can you at least let the demon with four arms carry me instead, Silvain? You're going to break me. I'm only human." Not entirely true, but close enough.

Silvain glared down at him. A look like that from most demons would be a warning David was about to be eaten. From this guy, it looked more like he wanted to rip David in half simply because he didn't like him.

The gorujin tetrad looked at Laoko. Laoko kept a neutral expression, but held out her two lower hands.

Silvain tossed him. The world spun, and four hands snatched him out of the air.

"Silvain," Laoko said, "your attitude will be the end of you."

The demon snarled back at Laoko and marched ahead, taking point with some brutes at his sides.

Laoko did a much better job carrying him than Silvain, smaller hands but still huge considering she was ten feet tall, too. Plus, she had four of them, and she spread his weight out across them and her forearms. In any other circumstance, he'd have preferred this to walking, but being carried against his will didn't feel good, no matter how she held him.

"I get the impression," he whispered, "that Azailia didn't tell you this was going to happen."

"Oh, is that why you want me to carry you? So we can talk?" She glared at him. "No, I did not betray you. I did not realize Silvain had orders to..."

"You did say he had orders to get me to Tarkissa, one way or another."

She shook her head and matched his whisper. "That did not mean to literally capture you and chase your friends away."

"Maybe they thought I wouldn't like what Tarkissa would do to me?"

"Tarkissa would do nothing to you."

"Yeah?" David sighed and went a bit more limp. His arms hung, half across her forearms, half dangling underneath him with gravity. "Something tells me you're wrong."

"Why would I be wrong?"

David gestured around vaguely. "Uh, because this?"

"Azailia is no fool. Spire rulers rarely are. She took the threat of the invaders seriously, and believed you when you told her that the unmarked must reach the Forgotten Place."

"Then... what the fuck?"

Sighing, Laoko looked at Silvain's back and bared her fangs. "I don't know."

"What do you know about Tarkissa?" He grabbed his gut and pressed on it. That worked on the surface, but it did nothing for his hunger here. If he had to spend a month like this, and only getting worse each day, he'd reach Tarkissa looking like ginger Gandhi.

"He has ruled the Scar for a thousand years."

"Not as long as Azailia has the Grave Valley, then."

"No. He rose to power from the depths of the Scar and seized control."

"Depths?"

She nodded. "The Scar goes deep. Some believe it reaches the bottom of Hell. A wound that will never heal, created in the First War when Lucifer fought their kin."

An entire province was a wound? The scale of the archangels broke his brain, and he shut his eyes and remembered the white mountains in his vision. Angel's Spine? Was it... literally made of up dead archangels? Its real name was Heaven's Tears, so...

"How well do you know Tarkissa?" he asked.

"Not well at all. He does not let outsiders explore the depths of his province."

By depths, it sounded like she meant the ins and outs of how their province worked, but also the literal depths. The Scar's deepest places were off limits?

He groaned and clutched his gut. "I'm going to fucking starve to death."

"No you will not."

"I know, but I've been kidnapped and I'm being carted across hundreds of kilometers of land by asshole demons. I have a right to complain." He let his arm dangle again and half curled up in her hands, any position to ease the pain growing in his guts. "Ever nearly starved to death? I've... I've never been this hungry."

"If you are human, or at least partly human, it will take you months to starve to death if you do not use your abilities. Many souls last months." She frowned down at him. "And I am not an asshole."

Of all the things to focus on, that was the comment that got her? Figuring her out was hard, half because he just didn't have the brain for it, and half because she wasn't like other demons. Dao, Jes, the Las, and even Caera, didn't exactly ruminate. But Laoko, he'd noticed her thinking and pondering and considering, on dozens of occasions.

There was the fact he was being carried by her, and gently, compared to Silvain, so that was nice. But a switch flipped in his head. It'd flipped in the past, back on the surface, when working on group projects with people who refused to do work, or when arguing with professors about ambiguous language on tests or assignments. Some stupid part of his stupid brain just didn't give a flying fuck about consequences anymore.

He wanted to bitch. So he was going to bitch.

"You're a fucking asshole. You, Silvain, Timaeus, all of you. I was on a quest to save the fucking world, but now you're carting my ass to Tarkissa, who's going to do only God knows what to me. Probably eat me or sacrifice me and make a weapon out of my heart or something."

"Why would Azailia--"

"I got no fucking idea. All I know is, I had a plan going, and now you and the others are shitting all over it because you're, what, mindlessly following the orders of your spire ruler?" He glared up at her. Try as he might, stabbing someone with his eyes was just not a skill he had. He and Mia never could get the glare right. "Fucking christ, I've been dodging angels, the rider, and god damn aliens, and now the demons I was working with are fucking everything up. Moriah was right."

Laoko tightened her grip, and David sucked in a breath, her fingers squashing his flesh, her claws threatening to pierce his skin.

"Moriah was not correct. Azailia is not some power-hungry mad queen who will doom the world. I am obeying her orders--"

"Orders she didn't even give you. Silvain took me prisoner. That wasn't your plan. Or Timaeus's." Correct he might be, she didn't loosen her grip, and he squirmed. "You'd planned to help me reach the Forgotten Place, didn't you?"

"What?"

"You got a head on your shoulders, Laoko. You seem like one of the few demons who does. You believe me about the end of the world, whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. So you were going to join me, weren't you? You'd considered the options, realized how important what I was doing was, and had decided to help me because you know everything else is meaningless if we all die, probably to alien invaders, probably with intent to eat our brains."

The silence in her gaze was her answer. She loosened her grip, glanced back at the nearby Timaeus, and a heavy sigh worked through her, like a deflated balloon.

"Azailia knows what she's doing."

"Azailia," he said, "isn't telling you something." He nodded toward Silvain, far ahead, a shadowy silhouette in the fog. "Ask him for details."

"Silvain? We do not get along, him and I."

"Why?"

A bit of Laoko's old smile returned. "Because I am Azailia's favorite. And because I have learned to breathe hellfire."

"He can't? He's not as old as you?"

"He is not." How demons and angels could live for centuries, literal millennia, and not go insane, he had no idea. Jes's words rung in his head. Demons weren't like humans. "I... do believe Silvain is hiding something from me, so he can proclaim to Azailia his goal was accomplished entirely on his own. He wishes to replace me, the stubborn fool."

"So... he's a simp?"

She raised a brow. "A what?"

"Uh, a guy -- or girl, I suppose -- who does everything for a girl -- or guy, I suppose -- in hopes of getting some attention from her. She never reciprocates, but he keeps trying."

Laoko laughed, a playful laugh at that, and she shook her head, smiling down at him.

"I do not think that is an accurate description of him. It wouldn't surprise me if he killed Azailia some day and claimed her throne."

"Oh. Well, still, he's a fucking asshole." He returned her smile and kept his voice as low as he could. "You already know where I'm going with this."

"Do I?"

"You do." Time to take his shot. Either she'd listen, or break his legs so he'd have literally zero chance of escaping. "I want you to figure out why Silvain wants to make me a prisoner and drag me to Tarkissa, instead of just helping me get there. And when you find out the reason, you're gonna have a tough decision to make, because, fuck me, I know it's going to be a shit reason. It's going to be a really fucking shitty reason and you're probably not going to believe it at first." Every word felt heavy. Not because he was essentially telling Laoko to betray Azalia, an old friend, but because his guts were ripping him apart from the inside out, demanding food. It was like someone had carved a black hole in his stomach. This hunger wasn't normal hunger. It came with all the aches and pains of hunger, of being ravenous, but it reached down into his fingers and toes, made them ache, made his bones ache.

Laoko frowned at him, but she looked past him to Silvain's silhouette, and her gaze lingered.

"You're a boiled frog," he said.

"What?"

"A boiled frog. Scientific accuracy aside, it just means you've been around a problem when it started small, and now you're desensitized to it. But I noticed it the moment I met Azailia. Me, and I suck at this shit. She's a schemer. She's out to make herself stronger, and probably take over Hell. Fuck me, maybe being a spire ruler corrupts you, literally, and that's why she changed on you, but me and the girls, we all saw it." Another ache coursed through him, but he clenched his teeth and held back the groan. "Or did that not have anything to do with why you left the spire?"

"I left the spire because... because the constant battling for supremacy with fools like him"--she gestured Silvain's way--"did not make for a content life. I was aware of Azailia's growing desire for conflict with other spires, all along. But..." She gestured back the way they came, and the way forward. "Death's Grip and Zel are -- were -- our allies, in a sense. And we do not battle with the Scar, and have not, in many centuries. We have no enemies to battle."

"Why not the Scar? I can understand Death's Grip because Azailia and Zel used to be lovers, but the Scar? I hear it's all succubi and incubi."

"Not all, but yes, the Scar would be easy to take control of in a direct confrontation." She furrowed her brow, looking down in the way he'd seen her do several times before. "Tarkissa and his vola keep peace with us. They weave fallo silk and share it with us and the Red Pits."

"What would a province like that want with me?"

"I do not know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~Mia~~

Kas and Vin were still wounded, but at least their bleeding had stopped. Everyone got to eat plenty, which Romakus, Yosepha, and Livian loved. Apparently, finding food hadn't been easy for them without her, and all three ate plenty before sleep.

Come morning twilight, Mia opened the cave, and they got moving. No time to wait for twilight to pass, which meant hellbeasts might be an issue. Killing hellhounds hurt, but it was the big dragon she was worried about. Something that titanic might be a hard nut to crack. Could her spikes even pierce it? Could hellfire even burn it?

"I... had another vision," she said, riding Kas's back. The group looked at her, waiting. "I saw the woman in aera armor, fighting on mountains of... white skin and giant feathers? It was hard to tell. But the woman was fighting angels. They got around her and cut the unmarked's head off." And the last few seconds of the vision were spent knowing what it felt like to roll down a hill as a head, with life gushing out from the neck.

Kas rumbled. "Are you okay?"

Did he feel her shaking? She smiled down at him and rubbed the top of his big flat shark head. No way he'd let her do that in the past, but he did now.

"Yeah. It was pretty disturbing, though, feeling that."

"You felt their death?" Adron asked behind her.

"Yeah. Third time it's happened. I don't know why, but I see, and feel, the last ten or twenty seconds of their lives. Might have something to do with the music, I don't know. I bet James felt it, too."

"Sounds like you're connected," Romakus said. "Makes you wonder what'll happen when you reach the Forgotten Place. Does only one of you need to reach it?"

She shrugged. "No idea. That woman didn't explain anything. But she does seem to be trying to protect other unmarked. She said the rider could find her and get to her, so she wasn't supposed to help any unmarked directly, at least not for long, I guess. Maybe he's busy?" Maybe he was busy chasing David? Last she'd seen the rider, he was on David's side of the canyon. Somehow she doubted the canyon's size would stop him from crossing it, but it'd probably be easier to just chase down David.

But David was still alive, and that made her feel better. A nice benefit to this weird vision quirk that had let her taste death thrice now.

"Your wings are starting to grow back," Mia said and gestured to the angel beside her.

Yosepha nodded, sighing, and looked back at her tiny wings. "Normally, I would have reborn in the waters of Heaven, rather than try to regrow. This process is painful and slow."

"It hurts?"

"Growing pains, perhaps worse."

Growing pains were a bitch, though Mia hadn't grown much in years. Both David and her had always been a bit small, but that'd only grown worse when they'd hit puberty and borderline stopped growing altogether. It was a big reason why David -- and her eventually -- got into exercise, so they could at least be fit and small, instead of just small.

"What happens when you're reborn?"

"Your body dissolves into the waters of Heaven, but your grace remains, and a new body is formed for it."

"A new body?" Mia looked up at the fog above and pictured Heaven and its islands high overhead. "That sounds... strange. What's that like?"

"It can be a strange experience, yes. A part of who you, I, or anyone is, is their body. To change that changes you. You think differently, behave differently. I would still be mikalim, and my memories would remain, but my personality would shift."

"Sounds like choosing to be reborn is a big decision."

"Yes, it is." She looked back at her budding wings, and then up at the gorujin tetrad behind her. They shared a smile, Romakus's huge, playful, and a little psychotic, hers subtle and sincere. "I would prefer to not change who I am unless I have to."

Mia almost squeed, but bit it down. No squealing. Just because Yosepha and Romakus were obviously more into each other than either probably wanted to admit did not mean it was okay for Mia to act like she was watching one of her favorite TV shows. Did Romakus and Yosepha start off as enemies? Because enemies to lovers was a trope that always got her insides fluttering.

They walked the swamp, same as before, with the main Trench a couple kilometers to the right well beyond sight, the inner edge of Hell hundreds of kilometers to their left, and supposedly, Noah, Azreal, Julisa, the incubi, Yulia, the unnamed brute, a tiger Mia didn't know, and the unmarked boy James, all a few kilometers ahead. As long as the angels knew how to navigate the fog, they'd keep the formation until they reached the main Trench's intersection, cross it -- somehow -- and continue to Angel's Spine. Mia tried hard not to think about how small the Damall group had become.

They wanted to avoid meeting Alessio, and that was doubly true now. If someone ran past them and got to the spire, and Alessio took the encounter with Xela personally, she might send armies to comb the swamp for them. The spire supposedly sat closer to the inner edge of Hell, reachable by following the main Trench's intersection in that direction. Easy to avoid, and if they kept pushing forward, they'd pass through before anyone could even reach Alessio.

Movement up ahead. Everyone froze and lowered to the muck. Angel wings. But they were black angel wings, covered in black remnant guts, and everyone breathed relief and pushed forward. It was Azreal.

"Noah has taught the boy how to use potram and batlam," he said, stopping on Kas's other side and walking with them. "He learns quickly."

"You know how long he stayed a ghost?" Mia asked. "Back on the surface, I mean. I didn't come down here until seventeen days after I died."

"He remained a ghost for a week before coming here. And he died sixty-eight days ago."

"Sixty-eight. Same as me." She rubbed her arms and set her hands on her egg in its sling. "I don't think we're related, right? He's black, so..." She shrugged and gestured to her pale skin and freckles.

"You do not look alike." Azreal peered up at her and leaned in for a better look. "Perhaps... a little?"

"You think?"

"In the bone structure of his face, perhaps there are similarities."

Mia couldn't help but laugh. A gabriem would have an easier time telling, but Azreal? The man oozed 'leave me alone' energy, same as Kas. He'd probably had maybe a grand total of three casual conversations with human souls in his entire ridiculously long life.

"I suppose I have no way to see him myself, do I?" she said. "I can't get close enough to see him. We got no cameras or phones down here. Any angels do perfect recreation art?"

"We do not," Yosepha said. "Not even the muses create art."

"I mean, it's not really art, right? Not exactly. You're just copying something perfectly."

"Even so, to do such a thing is a skill that requires practice, and a human's mind and soul."

"Damn." She stroked her egg, pondering. "It's a shame. I'd love to talk to the guy. He looked really fucked up."

"I am sure Julisa will take care of him," Romakus said.

"Yeah, but, psychologically? Did you get to talk to him much?" She knew the answer. The Damall had already explained they'd snuck in, found the unmarked, got spotted, and no one had time for anything except to scoop him up and run. No one knew a thing until just now, from Azreal.

"Sex can heal any soul's wounds." Romakus grinned at her and flicked his tail. "Or don't you realize that's why Julisa is with him right now, and not Livian? She's going to seduce him and get him on her side."

"What? Why?"

"Last I checked, little soul, you unmarked fuckers have the ability to destroy entire areas of Hell, use the horde call, and apparently summon bone spikes on targets."

Mia frowned, and blushed. It was a compliment, but not one she wanted.

"You think she'll seduce James because he's powerful? Or, could be powerful?"

"Of course."

"He won't be powerful if he's broken! He's probably been tortured and stuff! For weeks!"

Romakus shrugged, but Yosepha turned and gave her lover a gentle backhand on the arm.

"Forgive the demon," she said. "They do not understand the passage of time as you do."

Right. Vin had been locked up for maybe a couple hundred years, and it didn't make him go psycho in the brain. Any human would go utterly bonkers in the same scenario.

"But angels do?" Vin asked with a snort.

"Only academically, child of Belial." Without missing a beat, Yosepha shot a glare at Vin, eye-squinting included. "Otherwise, we are the same as demons in this regard. But angels make it our business to understand humans. And what I did not learn myself, gabriem taught me."

The dragon snorted again, but didn't bother with the staring match. He slowed and let the others lead. He didn't want to show it because he was a big, mean, dumb bully of a demon, but he was royally injured again. No broken bones, but he'd taken even more of a beating than Kas, stabbed and cut and tackled who knew how many times. He didn't have to stand so proud if he walked in the back. Or maybe Mia was wrong, and he genuinely couldn't stand being around Yosepha and the others. Hopefully, the former.

"But," Yosepha said, rolling her eyes and glaring up at her boyfriend again, "Romakus makes a point. Sex is a powerful force for humans. If Julisa comforts the unmarked boy with her body, then perhaps that is for the best."

Mia scrunched up her nose and wiggled. "Eh, I don't know. Maybe if it was a gabriem, sure, someone who knew how to navigate the minefield of a human's mind. Julisa? She might just force herself on him."

"Noah is with him," Azreal said. "The boy is safe."

"Yeah," Mia said, "but girls can... Ugh, how to say this. Girls can be... really fucking manipulative, especially and particularly. And Julisa has all the warning signs of a bitch who wouldn't hesitate for a second to do that to an unmarked boy so she could control him." Demons and angels weren't technically male or female, but Julisa might as well have worn a crown that said 'bitch supreme'.

"I'll warn him," Azreal said. "Silvina has been watching the boy, as well. Should I be wary of her?"

Silvina? The tregeera Mia had once seen Galon have sex with. With Yulia. And a gorgala.

"Silvina's fine," Romakus said. "At worst, she'll defend the boy and fuck him, too."

Mia waved her arms. "No fucking! Not everyone is as... horny, as me, okay?" She gestured at herself. "I am not most humans. Or unmarked. Or whatever. Can we avoid defaulting to sex until we -- I -- know the boy is okay in the head?" If they'd still had Galon, he'd be able to find out for them.

Mia clenched her eyes shut and shook her head. Strange how painful memories could come at you out of nowhere.

"Azreal," Mia said. "We need to learn if we can trust him."

"Trust the unmarked?"

"Yeah. If he's a soul who should genuinely be in Hell, but just doesn't have a mark because he's like me, that's a problem, right? He could be a wolf in sheep's clothing. So, much as I want to make sure he's okay, we have to be careful. Don't teach him anything more until we know for sure."

Azreal nodded and flew off.

"Strange," Yosepha said, "to hear you default to suspicion."

"I... It's not like that. I just..." She sighed and stroked her egg some more. Another painful memory hit her, the one of David killing another unmarked with a rock. No way David would do that unless that man deserved it. That meant some unmarked were not nice people. "Okay, yeah, a little suspicion, but only a little. I just want to make sure."

"Our little Mia," Romakus said, "suspicious of everyone." He fake sniffed and wiped away a fake tear. "She's all grown up."

Mia threw him a glare. "That's not fair."

Livian flicked Romakus in the wing, and stumbled. Poor woman. Everyone else walked on feet and claws, but Livian was a bolstara tetrad like Zel, and that meant hooves and no tail. The swamp did not like hooves. She snarled, slammed her fists against the muck, got to her feet, and glared daggers at her boss when he laughed at her.

"I'm still surprised," she said, pointlessly kicking off some muck from her hooves. "You actually met an Old One? There's an Old One, alive, underneath us?"

Mia put up her hands. "He was gigantic! Absolutely fucking gigantic. And he could play the music a thousand times louder than I could. But the thing in the music that helps me wouldn't help him." Shivering, she rubbed her egg and looked back. "He was really injured before we met him. He's probably worse off now."

"Millions upon millions of years," Yosepha said, "living in a cave, trapped and broken. Deserved, but a cruel fate, nonetheless. When... If, I ever return to Heaven, it may be possible to launch an assault and finish him off. The council--" The council wouldn't do shit. No need to say it. "Heaven assumes all the Old Ones are dead. If one is alive, perhaps others are, as well, equally trapped and broken."

"No ifs about going back! You'll return some day." Mia groaned and hugged her egg snug. "If anymore Old Ones are alive, and they're... hunting the unmarked, that's... I mean, I only beat him because he was really hurt! Hurt, and probably starving, and I had the canyon right there, so I dropped him in it. A canyon full of hellfire. And he's still alive!" Why couldn't things just go smooth? "Do we know anything about the Old Ones?"

Everyone looked at Yosepha, but the poor girl could only shrug.

"You must understand. It was hundreds of millions of years ago. Perhaps longer. I cannot even imagine what the afterlife was like back then. Did the concept of records even exist? All angels know of the First War is that, not long after creation, Lucifer betrayed God, demanded they not bow to humans--"

Mia put up a hand. "But back then, all we had were bacteria." The whole 'intelligent design' debate wasn't exactly one Mia was prepared to engage in, but the conversation still piqued her curiosity.

Yosepha shrugged. "I do not know the details. No one does. But Lucifer demanded they be treated as God themself, that they would not serve the grand design, so they were cast down to Hell, and stripped of their ability travel to and from the realms as they wished. In retaliation, they created the vortex, ripped a hole from Hell to Heaven, to create a more... physical doorway, than whatever ancient powers the archangels used to travel. Before the vortex, they created the nine spires, and the nine Old Ones, their army for their assault on Heaven." It was like someone had dumped a bucket of water on her. She let her head sag and glared at the swamp. "Lucifer was defeated, and the Old Ones were, as well, but the archangels loyal to God were killed, and their corpses were left to rot on Angel's Spine. And then God locked Lucifer away in the Forgotten Place. So the story goes."

"No one knows for sure?" Mia asked.

She shook her head, sighed again, and looked up at the black fog above. There was longing in her eyes.

"God," Mia said. "He, they, really existed?"

"I must assume so, but it is an assumption. There are many books in the libraries that speak of Their holy power, that They created the Heavens, earth, the universe, and Hell. The purpose of angels and souls is written in these books, that humans collect resonance from their lives and how they live them, and that we angels are to ensure they can share their resonance with Heaven, rejoin the Great Tower's center, and flow back into the cycle of life. God's plan."

"God's plan." It was missing a key component Mia had heard about before. The Rapture. "Uh, any mention about God's return?"

Yosepha set her eyes at Mia, and Mia froze. She'd hurt the angel hard.

"No. There is no mention of Their return. All existence has been without God since the First War. We do not know what life is like with Them, and every day in Heaven, we are reminded of Their absence. It is... painful." She gestured at Mia. A dagger could have shot out from her hand and Mia would have accepted it. "Angels are not humans. We are missing something. And every day, as I looked around Heaven, I could see the piece we are missing is Their presence." She clenched her fists at her sides. "Every day, we can feel we are lacking. Every day we gaze upon human souls with envy. Every day we--"

Romakus scooped her up.

"There's a reason more angels come down to Hell these days," he said, and he put Yosepha on his shoulders. He was ten feet tall. She was shy of seven, small enough she fit comfortably on the back of his neck, and held onto his horns. It was adorable. Not exactly stealthy, but adorable. "I don't know about any God or gods. Never met him, don't really care to. But Heaven's got a secret and it wouldn't surprise me if it has something to do these alien invaders, unmarked."

Mia smiled at Yosepha and avoided the obvious 'daddy' comment with the way she rode his shoulders. Romakus would have run with it and made Yosepha regret ever getting involved with the man.

"You think," Mia said, "that God's absence has something to do with the aliens?" Aliens. They'd just accepted on calling them aliens. Were they even aliens if they were some other kind of afterlife being, like angels or demons, that just happened to live in a different place than them? Maybe, if they weren't a part of the Great Tower's three levels: Heaven, Earth, and Hell.

"I do," Romakus said. "God's gone. He up and left. Where the fuck did he go? He went somewhere else, apparently, which implies there's an elsewhere to go to, right? And we're talking about some sort of mega entity capable of creating a fucking universe, right? So where the fuck could someone like that go?"

Yosepha and Mia traded glances. Even Vin lifted his head and looked at them. That was actually a good question. Where could a deity 'go' if they wanted to leave? They weren't talking about deities, like, aspects of nature and stuff, sitting around on clouds or living in the ground. They were talking about something that created the whole damn universe, supposedly. Was going somewhere else even an option?

The demon continued. "So I think, hey, if aliens are coming up from the ground, and they've never been around before, maybe it's connected? From how you described them, the bottom of the canyon in Death's Grip, and Asmodeus calling them invaders, I can only guess they come from somewhere else, too. From somewhere below."

Icy shivers worked through Mia's spine, and she clutched Kas's spikes.

"When I saw their eyes," she said, "it was like staring into space, you know? Big, empty, outer space. There were stars in there, nebulae, galaxies and stuff, but it was all... secondary. In their eyes, it was like some endless void." Anyone who'd been in deep enough water knew the feeling of looking down, and seeing only infinite darkness below. It'd felt like that, in eyes.

"Maybe," Romakus said, "instead of this supposed universe, this Great Tower we like to think is everything and anything, it's really just an island, and there are other islands out there?"

Mia gulped. "Or... it's a boat on the ocean."

"Heaven knows nothing of any other realms," Yosepha said, "or that our Great Tower is not all that there is."

Romakus laughed. "Sounds like propaganda to me."

"I--put me down, you fool, before we are spotted."

The demon did no such thing. He held Yosepha's ankles, trapping her on the back of his neck. Mia almost jumped in and said something, but it was pointless. Romakus wouldn't listen, and having a wingless angel on his shoulders didn't really risk them getting spotted more when dark smog was their cover, not horizons and hilltops.

Yosepha sighed, but Mia saw a hint of a smile. The angel held the man's horns, looked at them, traced them with her fingers, and another tiny smile snuck its way onto her face. But then she noticed Mia, and it vanished. Damn it. They were so cute! Why couldn't she have that? Close as she was with Adron and Kas, it didn't have that romantic spark. Yet. Maybe that could change? And then there was Vin, who didn't have any of Romakus's playfulness.

Ugh. Envy. Mia wielding a deadly sin while already in Hell. Figured.

Noah returned this time, a fresh coating of black muck on his wings. He flew up to them, never going higher than a couple meters.

"Are you alright, Mia?" he asked.

Mia raised a brow. "Uh, yeah I'm fine. Why?"

He cast a glance at the demons. He spared a raised eyebrow for the perched Yosepha, too, but it was the demons he might as well have yelled 'I don't trust you' at.

"Julisa," he said, "has begun... trying to seduce James, I believe."

Livian laughed. "The slut will chase power into a ravine."

"It's okay," Mia said. "I mean, kinda. If she crosses the line and tries to force him, stop her."

Not convincing, judging from the way Noah looked at her and eyed the demons again.

"This back and forth," he said, "will make this journey difficult. When something happens to one group, how will the other know? Azreal and I can fly, but we are a team and usually work together. I'd prefer we not split up for long."

"He wants to stay with his boyfriend," Romakus said.

For a second, Mia thought maybe the joke went over Noah's head. Nope. He set his hard eyes on the gorujin tetrad and gave his wings a slow flap, causing his long, blonde hair to flow over his shoulders.

Maybe Mia could have a romance with him? He was a big, tall, steaming hunk of an angel, with the short beard gruff and the intense silver eyes. Romance novels would be lucky to have Noah -- or Azreal for that matter -- on their covers.

Ugh, seeing Romakus and Yosepha together had Mia feeling all kinds of feelings she had no one to reciprocate them with. Never mind all the end of the world stuff. Never mind the fact Asmodeus was still alive and probably doing everything he could to break out of his cave and track Mia down and eat her. Never mind alien invaders, or God's mysterious absence, or the silent council, or the fact she and her brother were on opposite sides of Hell on a deadly journey. Nope, she was thinking about romance. And no doubt David was, too. Much as her brother was a horny guy who went on and on about how hot monster chicks were, she knew he had a soft side for romance.

She'd see him again. No ifs, ands, or buts, she'd see him again. And then they'd talk about their adventures, and try and find some non-gross way to talk about their weird sexual abilities. If she had them, he had them. That gargoyle woman had risked her life to save him, so maybe--

"Mia?" Yosepha asked.

"Sorry. Thinking. And Romakus, you said there were Damall in each province."

"I did."

"But you don't know where they are in the Black Valley?"

"They would be near the spire. We might run into them at the Trench intersection." He shrugged. "Or they're all dead."

"No love lost?"

Another shrug. "They do what they want. There's no one leading the Damall. If one of us runs into another, we might give each other a bit of help, but that's it. Or at least, we wouldn't kill each other."

"I thought you said they could help us!"

"I did say that!" He flared his wings. If she didn't know any better, she'd think Romakus was behaving like a petulant child. She did know better. He just liked pretending to be a child. "But they move around, like we do. And no one can find their way around this swamp without an angel or the main Trench."

She groaned. "Then I guess we just... keep going? Noah, can you tell us when James and the others reach the intersection?"

Without hesitation, the man nodded and flew off. There was a hint of sternness in his eyes, but it felt less like he was questioning her, and more like he was a soldier committing to an order.

"Yosepha," Mia said. "Angels. What are angels like in their free time?"

"I don't understand the question."

"Like, do you have hobbies? Do you date? I know you said you're not humans, but demons enjoy their free time."

The question stirred something in Yosepha, and she lifted her eyes up at the black smog above again.

"Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. Azreal and Noah want to help us. I feel like I should get to know how they think, you know? How they work. I've been around demons enough to get some kind of idea of how they work. Angels are still a bit of a mystery."

She smiled. "You wish to play psychologist."

Right, Mia had told Yosepha about what'd she'd planned to study before dying.

"Y... Yes."

Romakus laughed. "For angels and demons? I'll save you some time. Demons want to fuck and fight. Angels want to fuck and defend. There. That's it."

"That can't be all there is to you." She rubbed her egg and patted Kas's back. "Just because you're not like humans doesn't mean you don't have your own kind of depth."

With a villainous chuckle, Romakus looked up at Yosepha, and then back to Vin and Adron, waiting for them to say something. They didn't.

"I don't believe that," Mia said, glaring. "You're just different. You're just--"

"Humans," Yosepha said, "are the ones that gather resonance from the surface. What do you think resonance is?"

"I... I mean, I..." She scratched her scalp. What was resonance? It was something humans collected from the surface, and brought it to Heaven or Hell where angels and demons used it. Angels got it from their heavenly water when souls moved on, and demons got it by taking it by force. Angels and demons turned resonance into essence, the energy they used to be alive.

Humans had some essence, too, some kind of holdover from being alive, and they burned through it slowly. Essence seemed to be purely a mover, just something used to make action, like move a limb or shoot angel beams. Humans couldn't turn the resonance they had into essence, though. That was unique to demons and angels, and hellbeasts. That was the core aspect of the weird ecosystem of Heaven and Hell. People with awful resonance, who were awful people, went to Hell. People with nice resonance went to Heaven. And supposedly, either by 'moving on' while in Heaven, or dying a whole bunch of times in Hell, they went back to the core of the Great Tower for rebirth or something.

Your resonance was a core part of who you were. Your experiences while alive, how they molded you, how you reacted to them, how you felt and acted. Resonance. Vibration. It was a special thing that spoke... or sung, the sort of person you were.

"Maybe you could collect resonance, too," Mia asked, "if you went to the surface? And, uh, became corporeal somehow. It's not like humans are creating their own resonance in the afterlife either, right?"

"True," the angel said. "But do not kid yourself. Angels and demons are different, young soul, less... nuanced. No demon or angel will deny that." She looked around, waiting. No one denied it.

Mia took a deep breath and smiled. "Well, if that's true, then that just means we'll find different ways to get along." Grinning, she motioned for Adron to come up beside her and Kas. He did, tilting his head with confusion, but the confusion melted away once she got her hand on his shoulder and rubbed it, its spikes, and the back of his neck. He sighed, but in a relaxed, happy way, grumpiness melting away, and he leaned into her touch.

Yosepha and Romakus weren't wrong. They were ancient beings that didn't operate on the super nuanced -- and really dumb -- scale humans did. They dealt in decades, centuries, and apparently were all-consumed by their inherent, borderline instinctual desires: helping, or feasting on, human souls. Maybe it was better to think of demons and angels as dogs and cats, simpler creatures? No, that was horrible. Still, it was better to think of them differently. A puzzle to figure out.

She absolutely loved figuring out people puzzles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~Day 69~~

~~David~~

The hunger was still there, eating away at him. The empty pit in his stomach did more than just suck his energy, but mute the strings flowing through him, too. He reached for them, but each attempt to create sound failed, like a toddler trying to pluck bass strings with their pinky. No aura, no controlled bursts of change from Hell, and definitely not contacting the presence that lived in the ocean of vibration to help him.

His sixth sense told him... jack shit. It wasn't even working. He was low on resonance, or essence, or what-the-fuck-ever unmarked used for energy. Hearts held both. Forbidden fruit held both. He needed either.

Demons burned through resonance in a matter of days and hunted to compensate. He could burn through ten times that in a single fight. What a pain in the ass his abilities were.

He sat up. They were in a cemetery, with tombstones in all shapes and sizes. Enormous mausoleums stood with horrific statues on them, demons tearing the wings off angels, demons raping souls, demons killing souls, demons doing both at the same time. What was once an awesome-looking scene of macabre and goth art became a twisted, disturbing glimpse into just how horrible Hell could sometimes be. Maybe it was because he was hungry, but Hell didn't have the same charm it did a few days ago when he had four ridiculously busty ladies sucking his cock and fondling each other.

Acelina. He frowned and looked around at the fog, the demons waking up, and the tetrad woman sitting ten feet away from him. Laoko liked Acelina, too, but that was different. That was more like seeing someone grow up into something intriguing. She'd enjoyed using her superior position and power to tease Acelina and toy with her. Admittedly, super hot, but not why David was thinking about the spire mother.

David liked Acelina's bitch attitude. Caera liked it, too. Jes, not so much. Acelina hadn't even been bitchy with Dao, and she'd warmed up to the Las quick. And damn, there was something so damn hot about the way Acelina had came at David that one night, angry with him, only to jerk him off and... and...

He laughed and ran his fingers down his face.

"Something amusing, unmarked?" Laoko asked, getting up.

"Just thinking about Acelina." And how unbelievably awful he was that, even now, practically dying from hunger, his girls missing, and his life in jeopardy, he couldn't help but think about sex. But more than that, too. Something about her... "Something about her angry, spoiled princess attitude was really... appealing, you know?"

Laoko tilted her head. "You enjoyed her belittling you?"

"It wasn't about getting belittled. It was about how she... I dunno, I'm not Mia. It just seemed like Acelina didn't really believe everything she was saying, you know? There's something hot about a girl in denial about liking you."

Something hit the tetrad in the funny bone, because she laughed hard, far louder than the usually sly, careful, calculated demon normally would.

"Humans are so strange. When you desire something, you find it more appealing if it takes time to acquire, of if there are barriers between you and the desire, or even a goal between you and admitting the desire. Guilt, shame, all absurd."

"I dunno. Maybe Mia could fill in the blanks better, but for humans, there's something... really appealing about something you can't have, or shouldn't have, or..." He threw up his hands, and relaxed back against the tombstone behind me. There wasn't any way he could explain it to a person, let alone a demon, but the memory of Acelina, obviously angry at him, giving him that first handjob and titfuck while the others slept, was permanently etched in his mind.

He'd feel guilty thinking about it, if it weren't for how Caera enjoyed it, too. That only made it worse, and hotter.

"The girls are alive," he said.

"I have no doubt."

"They're probably getting food for Moriah and looking for a way to rescue me."

Laoko eyed him, tilted her head slightly, and drew her claws through her long hair tendrils so they pulled over her shoulder in front of her. Without looking away, she combed them, the thick dreadlock-like smooth tentacles filling in between her long fingers and claws.

"It is rare for demons to care and to battle to save each other."

"Yeah, I keep hearing that, but when I met Dao and Jes, they were lovers and willing to fight for each other."

"There are exceptions, of course."

He rolled his eyes. "You didn't get that close with someone when you worked with Azailia in the Spires War? Someone you'd fight to save?"

"I... did not." She looked down like someone had tied an anchor around her neck.

"Not Azailia? You seem convinced she knows what she's doing, even while she's keeping secrets from you."

"No. Not Azailia."

Another chink in the armor. She was practically squirming, combing her hair and looking down like she was feeling guilty about something. Maybe she would help him? She was obviously torn up about this whole thing and wasn't trusting Azailia anymore.

"I--"

She stood up and whipped her head around. David froze.

"Silvain?" Laoko asked. No one responded. She drew her four swords.

Demons came in from the fog and David pushed himself up, ready to fight. He lasted two seconds before he almost collapsed, but he stayed standing, both hands on a nearby tombstone. Summon batlam? The rune felt like a million kilograms just thinking about it.

Silvain came out of the fog, sword drawn, and Timaeus followed him, checking over his shoulder. Other demons came in from all directions, nearly thirty, all of them with weapons drawn.

"Cullius," Silvain said. "He found us."

Laoko snarled. "I thought we'd already slipped past his area?"

"Apparently he's expanded." Silvain gestured to David. "Keep an eye on the unmarked. If he dies, this was all for nothing."

Well, at least the asshole wanted to keep David alive. Weakened, but alive.

"I could help," David said, "if you gave me something to--"

"Be silent." Silvain snapped his glare at David, rumbled in his throat, and stepped back into the fog.

He didn't get far. Chuckles filled the fog, seeped into the graveyard, and announced the silhouettes of demons. Many of them. Silvain's demons closed in back to back, found tombstones to perch on, mausoleums to stand on, but each stared out into the white fog, looking for the source of the laughter. It was coming from everywhere.

"Well well well," a voice said. "Silvain, Laoko, and Timaeus. I guess the bitch was right. You're all here."

"Bitch?" Timaeus asked.

"Don't worry about it." With another almost comically vile chuckle, a korgejin tetrad stepped out of the fog, with the silhouette of fifty demons of all shapes and sizes behind him, joining what had to be fifty more surrounding the area. "Give me the unmarked and you all go free."

Timaeus and Silvain were big guys, but whoever this Cullius was, he was bigger. A korgejin meant hooves and no tail, but he still had the giant wings, giant horns, and some shoulder-length dreadlocks. Trophies dangled from his belts and from his wings, human skulls attached by black chains. He wore no chest armor, but his skin was dark, almost as dark as a brute's, and a scar sat in the center of his sternum. A horde seal.

"You dare?" Laoko asked, squeezing her swords. "Azailia will have your head for this, Cullius."

He snorted. "Azailia stays in her tower, plotting. And now her right hand crosses our land with a small group? You were just asking for someone to interfere, Silvain."

Timaeus gestured to Laoko and Silvain. "We three are more than enough for your group, Cullius. Leave."

"I don't think I will. I've been promised eating an unmarked will grant me power. And I'm looking forward to testing that theory." He pointed his sword at David, and the demons charged.