~~Day 94~~

~~David~~

In the throne room, everyone gathered. David waited in his armor, staff in hand, ass on the throne, legs dangling. Laoko grinned at him, and he decided to stand instead. Better that than looking like a child sitting on the countertop while Mom grabbed a snack.

All his girls arrived, Septima too, along with some of her honor guard, big brutes wearing their armor like Septima. Tacharius and Zabulon showed up, but they left Zazee and the three betrayers behind. Good. Where they were going, it was better they didn't come.

Domnius squatted nearby, wearing the biggest grin David had ever seen, but the little guy said nothing, content to watch and wait.

"As you all know," David said, "I'm not sticking around. I have to keep moving, and that means leaving the Scar."

Tacharius stepped up. "That means--"

Septima stood up on her hind legs and glared down at the man. He shut up quick. Standing humanoid style, Septima was almost nine feet tall, bigger than Caera. Scary, especially when combined with the nigh full suit of armor.

David smiled. "That means I need to leave, and while I'm gone, I need a steward. I'll be back, eventually. I didn't start this civil war just to abandon the Scar. The Grave Valley will be a problem, and I'll deal with that before I leave. In the meantime, we need a spire ruler." Again, Tacharius opened his mouth, but David waved a hand. "It's Septima."

The room went silent. Everyone looked Septima's way, and the tiger slowly tilted her head as she eyed David, looking for words and finding none. She took off her helmet, still standing on her hind legs, hooked it under her arm, and glared at David with an expression he couldn't read. Anger? Astonishment?

"Why her?" Zabulon asked, voice cutting through the void.

"Because," David said, "Septima is the only one with a head on her shoulders for large-scale issues. Don't get me wrong, Zab. You and Tacharius have been indispensable, and I'm sure Septima will appreciate your input. But she knows how to run a province. You don't."

Septima slammed her tail against the ground, but not as hard as she probably could have.

"I have not accepted the title yet, unmarked. And I... do not know if I can even survive the ritual."

"You can," Laoko said, nodding to the tiger near her. "It will be painful, but you will survive. The volas? They would break."

"Why not a tetrad then?" Tacharius asked, gesturing to Laoko. "It's always a tetrad who rules a spire, since all the children of the Old Ones died."

But Laoko shook her head. "I will not leave David's side."

Tacharius squinted up at her, but Laoko didn't even bother to hold eye contact. So Tacharius gestured to Acelina instead, standing nearby with the large goort egg held against her breastplate.

"What about a zotiva?" he asked. "She--"

"I am not staying either," Acelina said. "I remain at David's side."

David sighed with relief and smiled at the two gigantic women. Laoko smiled back subtly. Acelina maybe smiled?

"I picked Septima," David said. "She can say no, but the reason I picked her is that she's smart and committed to the province. She'll say yes because she knows it's the best option." Confident in his choice, he gestured to Septima with his staff. "Unless you know of someone you think can handle the ritual, and would make a good ruler? Got any tetrads lying around?"

Septima growled, but it shifted into a sigh. "No. If there are tetrads in the Scar, they hide and indulge in their broods, content to rule their small groups instead."

David hadn't even considered that. Tetrads, hiding? Well, there was Caera's old friend Renato, whose armor and axe Acelina now wore. He'd done the same thing, hung out deep in Death's Grip's caves, and enjoyed his own troupe of demons, before the Cainites got him.

"Septima knows the Scar better than anyone," David said. "She's patrolled the entire province, end to end, for years."

The tregeera sighed. "Decades."

"Decades." Nodding, David walked toward the throne room exit, and gestured for everyone to follow him. "We don't have time to argue about this like a committee. This is what's happening. So let's go."

Sighing, the two incubi followed, not happy, like a couple of university students the RA had to slap on the wrist for sneaking in a Bunsen burner to try and fry a frozen turkey in a giant pot of oil in the middle of the dorm room. Yes, university students were that stupid.

Without asking, Moriah and Tsila scooped him up, and descended through the center hole in the spire, down and down into the depths below. Everyone followed, jumping to lower floors, or gliding if they had wings. It was a long way down, and on each floor, several demons stopped to watch the group. With David in his armor and two angels holding his shoulders and arms, lowering him like he was some sort of entity brought from on high, it was definitely a sight.

The bottom floor was grotesque. Dark, no demons, and walls covered in remnants. The floor, too, all remnants, all screaming and crying.

Caera cut a swath through them, and the other girls followed suit. David looked away. It was a good thing, killing remnants, lowering their numbers so they'd get through their torture faster. But he couldn't stomach watching it, let alone doing it.

"Like I said," Jeskura said. "The door is open."

She was right. Everyone stared at the open door, a slab of metal and bone, split down the middle and opened on both sides.

David sucked in a breath and stepped through it into the hallway, again, filled with remnants. No one else did. He turned and tilted his head.

"Well? Coming?"

Laoko took a breath and came first. "This is an unholy place, David. Lucifer walked within this room."

"Lucifer?" he asked. "Archangel the size of Tokyo?"

"Yes. They forged the spires, wrote the word of God, corrupted it, and started the First War."

"Yes," Caera said, following next. "How they, he, it, fit into a spire, I can't imagine. But I read things about the archangels changing their bodies as fluidly as thought." On all fours, she took a single step into the hallway, and stepped back. "You sure you want us in there?"

"Lucifer's been locked in a cell for billions of years," he said, "if they're, he, whatever, is even still alive. I don't care if he thinks of this place as unholy or whatever." He gestured forward with his staff, toward the endless remnants coating every surface of the bone tunnel. "A little help, please?"

Everyone hesitated. Moriah did not. She marched in, sword out, and cut a path through the remnants. Again, David looked away, but followed in the blood trail. It wasn't long before everyone else followed, too.

They didn't know what to expect. David did. The next door was open, too, and a dark, colossal room awaited them. Hanging braziers lit the floor of charred bones, the cavern walls, and as they walked through the room, the awaiting walls of the castle of bone. An enormous castle, with empty windows, multiple floors, and skulls.

If a building could ever be haunted, it'd be this building. Its walls reached the cavern's ceiling, almost as if the building itself were carved out of stone, instead of built. But it had been built. And every bone under the feet was a bone put there by Lucifer.

David glanced back. Everyone looked anxious, even Laoko, staring up and around at the nigh endless display of death. Brutes, decked in full armor, looked anxious too, glancing down at the bones shifting under their feet. Daoka stayed close to Acelina's side, and the Las practically hugged the spire mother's thighs. They were scared.

David was scared, too. He didn't have Azailia to guide him, this time. There was no spire ruler at all. He had no fucking clue what was going to happen.

"Laoko," he said, stepping up to the open door of the bone castle. "Know any details about the ritual?"

"No. I have never entered the Halls of Lucifer. But Azailia spoke of the ritual, loosely. She said it was a trial she accepted, and endured."

"Lovely," Septima said. She got on all fours beside David, took a deep breath and joined him stepping through the front door into the bone castle.

It was identical to the Grave Valley's. The inside of a giant cathedral, complete with balconies above, colossal and grand, held up by titanic pillars of small bones. In the center, a nave, no pews, but an obvious aisle that led up to a huge pulpit too big for even a tetrad. Black skull braziers dangled from chains, fire burning behind their eyes. And nothing but silence awaited them.

The demons spread out, half exploring, half staying near the door in case they had to run. He didn't blame them. Last time he was in the 'Halls of Lucifer', he'd been scared shitless, and it'd only gotten worse when he'd touched the book and imprinted an entire ancient language onto his brain.

He sucked in a breath and walked to the pulpit taller than him. "Laoko. Grab the book from the top of this for me, would you?"

The tetrad glanced around a few times before following him, posture forward slightly like she was ready to bolt if needed. But nothing happened as she stepped around the pillars, through the empty nave, past the hanging braziers, along the huge, empty cathedral, and toward the pulpit. Only the sound of her hooves crunching on charred bones filled the silence, every demon borderline holding their breath.

She wasn't big enough for the pulpit, either. Maybe a child of the Old Ones would have fit better behind it, but not her. She scooped the enormous, scary book from the pulpit and handed it to David. The cover flinched in his grip, and the black skull embossment stared at him with glowing, amber eyes. It wasn't locked.

Nodding, he handed Septima the book, and she stood up on her hind legs as she took it.

"What do I do with this?" she asked.

"I don't know. Last book I saw had some interesting shit in it, a sermon from Lucifer about going to war. Whoever rules the spire is supposed to devote their existence to that purpose, and all demons born inside the spires are to, as well." He shrugged. "But we're not going to do that."

Septima stared at the skull-embossed cover, took a shaky breath, and opened it. From the page of runes only David could read, an amber horn of light and illusion floated above the page. Anyone else would have dropped the book in surprise. Septima held onto it and stared through the face of her helmet into the orange glow. A horn literally floated in the air in front of her, like some sort of amber hologram.

"Be careful," Laoko said. "If you touch that horn, Septima, it will give you power over the spire. It will permanently mark you as spire ruler."

Septima nodded and slowly reached for the glowing horn. Confident. But Laoko grabbed her shoulder, stopped her, and pulled off the tiger's helmet.

"Oh," Septima said. "I... Yes, that makes sense." It had no forehead slot for a horn.

Laoko chuckled and set the helmet aside. Latia grabbed it, put it on, and wandered around with her La sisters, suddenly all the braver and ready to explore the enormous, scary bone cathedral. And from the look on Caera's face, her one eye wandering over the sights, she wanted to join them on the expedition. It didn't get more historical than this.

"Shhh," Latia said, and her sisters shushed each other as they explored the shadows.

Septima didn't even look their way, eyes locked onto the glowing book and the horn awaiting her touch.

"Tarkissa," Septima said, "made the Scar... work. Our spire births almost nothing but volas and imps and grems. He worked hard to create a way for us to exist, to keep our neighbors Khazeer and Azailia happy. And now that responsibility falls to me, to drown those two provinces in indulgence so they leave us be."

David shook his head. "It won't be like that."

She sighed and shook her head. "I am not against that approach. I... do not want to do as Khazeer and Azailia do, constantly fighting among their own to stay in charge, and fight other provinces in fruitless battles."

"Oh. I kinda got the impression you'd want to fight them off and make the Scar more--"

She lowered the book, but didn't let it go. "No. The Scar will never have the military obsession of the Red Pits or Navameere Fields. It will never have the tribal strength and violence of the Grave Valley or Death's Grip. It will forever be a den of indulgence. But... I would see it fight to secure its borders. I would like to see it able to defend itself, at least."

David shrugged. "Sounds reasonable."

"Will you... aid me in that pursuit?"

He tilted his head. "Well, yeah. You'll be my steward, and I won't ever be able to really rule the spire, even when I return. You got plans you want to enact? S'long as they don't interfere with mine, I don't see an issue." They'd already talked about what David wanted: to stop treating souls like fodder. And as long as Septima treated the volas, and imps and grems well, he had no problems with however else she ran the province.

Maybe this delay, this sudden talk about policy and requesting help, was Septima postponing the choice? Pretty massive change, becoming a spire ruler. And supposedly pretty painful, too. Hey, look at him, reading people's emotions. Mia would be proud.

"You'll be a good ruler," he said. "Won't she, Tacharius?"

The incubus rolled his eyes. "Yes, I suppose. She's a killjoy, but she kept things running, kept the Dens running, despite Tarkissa's absurd requests."

"Yes," Zabulon said. "If I can continue to run my section of the Floor, then I don't see the issue."

"Domnius?" David asked. "How about you? What would you ask of Septima?"

Everyone raised an eyebrow before looking back at the little guy, standing closest to the door. He looked afraid of the building, like it might crush him at any moment, or swallow him with its ancient gravitas. Slowly, he came closer, peeking up and around at the hanging braziers. It was the first time he'd ever been in an important place. And from the look he gave David with his single eye, it was the first time anyone had ever asked him for his opinion on something.

"Imps and grems get bullied," he said. "All the time. Bullied. Eaten."

David glared up at Septima, and she glared back at him, but she didn't last, eyes eventually looking to Domnius.

"I will make sure the Scar knows the imps and grems are not to be hurt or eaten."

Nodding, David looked past her to Domnius. "After what happened yesterday, most of the Scar is probably scared of you now, Domnius. You've got a lot of power in your hands. Treat it with care."

Domnius blinked his one eye and looked at his empty hands. He was smart enough to get a metaphor eventually, so David let him sit on it as he looked back to Septima.

He wanted to ask if she had any last doubts, but that'd be hitting her in the face with the knowledge he knew she was scared and stalling. Bad idea. She hadn't brought up any of these worries before. She was really scared.

The room went quiet, Las included, and everyone watched the tregeera stare at the amber horn of light sticking up from the book. She reached for the horn. Everyone else held their breath.

She touched it, and screamed. The small amber horn erupted from her forehead, sent a splatter of blood across David's face, and he jumped back as the book hit the floor. The tiger's roar echoed in the cathedral, loud enough everyone skirted back, eyes wide and locked onto Septima as she grabbed her skull.

Amber colors burst from the book. Not runes; David hadn't touched the book's insides. Amber chains, see-through, glowing lines of illusion snapped out onto two nearby pillars, and hooked into Septima's body, literally. Hooked ends connected to the pillars, and stabbed through her wrists, grabbing her and pulling her up into the air. In the center of the cathedral, the chains raised her up, and she dangled from them.

Two more chains erupted from the book, latched onto the base of the same two pillars, and sank their ghost hooks through her feet, spreading them. Blood splattered. Two more hooks attached higher, shot out, and hooked her shoulders, piercing the meera metal as if it weren't there.

Six chains, each attached to two pillars, each holding her body in the air, limbs spread. Her tail spasmed, twitched, and went still as the tiger's screams died off.

"Holy shit!" David yelled, and he ran over to her. The chains had attached to the two center-most pillars, as if it were important they put Septima's body on display as they dangled her. Her tail almost reached the floor. "Septima!"

With a slow, heavy breath, Septima opened her eyes. She looked down at him, and trickles of blood dripped over her eyebrow ridges from the new horn.

"It is a trial," she said. "Of... pain."

Because of course it'd be a trial of pain. How else would Hell test someone?

David shot a glare at Laoko, but she shrugged and shook her head. She hadn't known this was going to happen, only that the trial would be nasty.

Nasty wasn't a strong enough word. Septima was trapped somewhere between getting crucified, and drawn and quartered. And it only got worse.

She screamed again as flowing arcs of amber rushed down the chains like orange electricity. They shot into her, through her, and the living arcs of pain danced over her limbs, her armor, her skin, and up into the new horn. As her body trembled, her eyes rolled up, and she mouthed something with no noise, only to scream again.

The sound ripped any thoughts from David's head, and he grabbed one chain. His hand passed through it. He tried again, but the amber ghost chains could not be touched. He reached for Septima instead, but someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

Laoko stood behind him, two hands on his shoulders, and she watched Septima writhe in agony, the tetrad's eyes lit by the arcs of amber lightning.

"Lao--"

"Wait," she said. "She must endure the trial."

He clenched his eyes shut, but another scream from Septima forced them open. The demon was cooking inside her armor.

He looked at the others. Everyone watched. No one flinched. Septima's voice rose an octave, but no one seemed to notice, or they didn't care, or this was all just typical demon stuff and they all knew the only thing they could do was stand and wait.

This was torture. He squirmed under Laoko's grip, but as the minutes dragged on he gave up trying to move, and just stared at Septima as she roared and screamed. Caera came to his side and pressed against it, and he set a hand on her shoulder.

"Do we just wait?" he asked.

"Yes," Laoko said. "We wait."

So they waited.

For two fucking hours.

No one moved except for David. He couldn't keep watching, couldn't hold still, couldn't help but try and tune out the sounds. With remnants, he'd long learned how to blend them together in the background so they sounded more like the white noise of a shoreline, waves coming in and out. But it was different when it was one person screaming like holy hell, while all else was silence.

From the looks on everyone else's faces, that was another key difference between humans and demons. Mia had described it before, that humans were not infinite emotion machines. Human brains, or souls, couldn't output emotion, or even receive emotion, indefinitely without eventually burning out and shutting down. David was burning out. He wanted to collapse. He wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep. Everyone else looked fine.

Septima stopped screaming. For a moment, David thought she was dead; he couldn't see breathing through her breastplate. But she lifted her head and gasped.

"Thank fuck," he said. "Septima! Septima, you--"

The chains and their hooks disappeared. Septima fell to the floor like a sack of bloody potatoes, and no one moved to help her. Some sort of pride thing, maybe? Fuck that. He got to a knee and tried to lift her up, but he might as well have been trying to lift a motorcycle.

He looked at her wrists and feet. A lot of her skin was covered in armor, but far as he could tell, the holes the hooks had put into her were gone already. And with a little more help from him, the tiger got onto her four feet and lifted her head.

"The horn," she said, voice weak and hoarse. "Is it--"

"Still there," David said.

Sighing, she took a step forward, trembled, took another, and made progress like an injured -- or drunk -- dog. Her tail dragged.

"I need food," she said, and stumbled toward the exit.

David stared after her, but no one else looked surprised. Septima's honor guard followed her without hesitation, but with how slowly Septima walked, it took them a while to get out of the cathedral.

"She passed," Laoko said. "She is tough." With an evil little smile, she looked at the two incubi. "Could you have survived?"

They shook their heads without hesitation.

"She's tough," Jes said. "I guess that's another reason it's only tetrads and children of the Old Ones running spires." Frowning, she looked at her wrists and swished her tail. "I would have given up."

"Was that even an option?" David asked.

Laoko nodded. So did Acelina.

"Zelandariel spoke of it only occasionally," the spire mother said. "It was a trial she could have failed. She could have walked away."

"Fucking christ." Shudders worked through him, head to toe. "She took that for hours."

"Yes," Laoko said, and she gestured to the exit. "You cannot rule a spire if you are not strong of mind. For someone not a tetrad or child to become a spire ruler is unknown."

Unknown. So this was a first, and David hadn't even realized. What about Death's Grip? Zel was dead. Did that asshole bailiff Tacitus, the guy that had beef with Daoka, become the new spire ruler? Or maybe that big shark dinosaur David had met, or the colossal brute the rider had nearly killed?

"Wait. Did she know that?" he asked.

Acelina nodded. "The spire spoke to her, wrote the knowledge in her mind, I am sure."

And Septima took it like it were just another Monday. Groaning, he jogged after her, heavy armor clinking as he drove his staff into the bone floor.

"Septima," he said. "Are you okay?"

She looked back at him, raising a brow. "Helmet. Where is my helmet?"

"What?" He looked back. Laara came back with the helmet, and David took it with a nod. "You want--"

Septima scooped it up from his hand, still on all fours, looked at it, sighed, and made to throw it. She didn't. After staring at it for a while and probably noticing that the forehead bridge couldn't accommodate a third horn, she held the helmet out to Domnius.

The gremlin stared at the helmet, took it, and put it on. It was too big, but that didn't matter to Domnius. He laughed, knocked it on a few times, and held up a hand. Without hesitation, the Las got in formation behind him, and they began a soldier's march, following Septima. A couple of hours watching a fellow demon get tortured? No problem. Water off a duck's back.

David rolled his eyes and jogged after Septima. "Wait a damn second."

She stopped at the entrance of the exit tunnel and looked back at him, frowning. "What?"

"What? Are you okay!?"

"I am fine."

"Uh huh. Sure. How about you take a second to recover?" He walked beside her, forced to keep going as she pressed on.

The bone tunnel had refilled with remnants, growing up from the gore of the dead. David stayed close to Septima, directly behind her, and the tiger didn't hesitate to kill any in her way as she walked. But her swings didn't have the energy they'd had before.

"There is work to be done," she said. "I can feel the spire. I can feel the paths. I know the tunnel Tarkissa took to speak with Astaroth and Belial, connected to the spire."

"Really? That's--no, wait." And he did something he probably shouldn't have done. He dismissed his staff in a puff of red light, and grabbed her tail with both hands. Septima stopped and glared back at him, but he held onto the giant thing near the end, and glared in return. "Are you okay?"

She stared at him for a while, and looked past him to the others following, as if they might know what insanity was coursing through his brain.

"You are... worried?" She tripped over the word 'worried', as if she'd never said it before.

"Yes I'm fucking worried. I--"

Caera came up beside him, slaughtering remnants on the way, and she swatted his hands.

"She's fine, David. She survived the trial. Leave her be."

He blinked, let go, and looked back at everyone else. Septima's honor guard were confused, but David's girls looked at him and shook their heads. At least they understood him. Maybe they didn't empathize with him, but they understood him.

Septima didn't. She watched him, half frowning, half confused, too, but with her tail free, she resumed her slow march forward, killing remnants with weak arms.

Caera joined her. The two tigers cut through the remnants in silence, clearing a path, and David followed, frowning the whole way.

They stepped out of the tunnel, back into the dark basement of the spire, and everyone resumed the trip back up. Septima struggled with each hop up the floors, but didn't complain, didn't say a thing, and didn't so much as glance back.

Moriah and Tsila took David back up. He almost asked them if they felt different than everyone else, but from the hard look in their eyes, Septima's pain hadn't bothered them. Maybe angel sympathies were reserved for humans. He doubted it. No, this was just him, not really understanding how demon and angel minds worked.

Back in the throne room. Septima only grew slower, almost dragging herself as she approached the throne of bone.

"Is this mine now?" she asked, looking back at David.

"Yeah."

The tiger nodded, climbed up onto the huge throne, and sat human-style. Even with her great height, her feet didn't reach the floor, and her tail hung over the edge.

"What's it like?" Jes asked. "You can feel the whole spire?"

Septima nodded and lightly tapped the small amber horn on her forehead.

"I can."

"And you can feel a tunnel?"

"Yes, seventh floor from the bottom. A flesh tunnel connects to a pathway down."

David smiled. He could sense the body of Hell. Septima could sense the body of her spire.

And as if nothing had happened, everyone found a place to stand or sit. Laoko sat with Acelina at the bone table, the bone chairs too big for even them. The Las played with Domnius, walked with him, and explored the throne room and the chains dangling from the walls. Septima's honor guard of brutes stood around the throne, her throne. Caera, Jes, and Daoka stood with David in front of her. Moriah and Tsila stayed closer to the door, both in their angel armor, like guards.

It was fucking killing him that no one else looked concerned that Septima had just spent two hours getting electricity pumped through her, with ethereal hooks skewering her flesh. Maybe it was just all theatrics? Like when a guy needs to look tough for his buddies when he breaks a bone?

"We'll go tomorrow, then," he said. "When you--"

"We go in an hour." Septima gestured to her closest brute. "Bring me food."

The brute nodded and left. Septima had eaten plenty yesterday, and demons didn't normally eat every day. She'd been drained.

David sighed, but the message was getting through. As far as Septima was concerned, it was her responsibility to be a leader now, and that meant showing no weakness. And as far as everyone else was concerned, it was their responsibility to act like Septima was perfectly fine and able to fill that role immediately.

"One hour then," David said. "You know how to make those necklaces, the ones with an amber stone? They can be used by others to--"

"I know about the necklaces." She gestured to the wall of dangling chains. "Any chain will do. Bring me one, Satrius, of the correct length."

Another brute nodded, walked to the wall by a bloodfall, grabbed a random chain dangling from the ceiling, and snapped off a chunk. He gave it to Septima, and the tiger held it in front of her.

"I can feel the spire and its power," she said. "I... will not be able to use all its power yet. This is a tool to be learned. But I can understand enough." Slowly, she tapped the small length of chain to her horn. A jolt of amber electricity arced to it, and the chain moved on its own, closing, shrinking, and growing an amber jewel. A necklace.

Without hesitation, Laara came up for the necklace. It was her turn with the helmet, and she held it steady with one hand as she brought the necklace to David with the other.

"An hour," he said. "Septima, can you..." She tilted her head, waiting, but he stopped himself. "An hour." He nodded and left. The girls followed.

They went back to their room, on the same floor as the throne room, and once everyone was inside, he closed the door with the necklace. Sighing, he dismissed his armor, and back in his red toga, leaned against the wall, and let gravity drag his ass to the floor.

"You caught on quick," Tsila said, standing over him. She dismissed her armor too, squatted down easily, and patted his shoulder with a wing.

"You mean about demons ignoring each other's pain?"

"It's not about ignoring. It's about respect. But you realized that."

He groaned. "Yeah, I guess I did."

She smiled with her big, brilliant emerald eyes. "I could see the pain in your eyes. It made me ache."

"What? Ache?"

"Yes, of course. I am a gabriem. I spent many hundreds of years dotting on and helping humans like you, souls with unending empathy. Demons will never understand the depths of pain a soul can suffer, purely from witnessing a stranger suffer. Yes, they can feel empathy toward each other, but a stranger? They cannot understand. They need connection to feel."

He blinked at her and looked to the others. Not Moriah. Moriah would probably understand. But the demons looked at each other, digging for an answer in each other's eyes, but no one had one. Just one of the many true differences between demons and humans. A human could feel sad for a pencil if someone drew some eyes on it before snapping it in half.

"Is that a problem?" Caera asked. She sat in front of David and looked at him, waiting for him to say something that might hurt her.

David had no idea how to navigate this. Sometimes the girls seemed so perfectly human. So--

"I don't think that's entirely true," Jes said. Everyone looked at her, Tsila included. "I knew a little gremla when I was a hatchling. She was obsessed with a soul she watched in the scrying pool. Got really attached to him. He died. It broke her so hard, she let other demons eat her. Suicide, basically." Sighing, the gargoyle wandered over, sat with David, and set her head on his shoulder; she had to be careful her horns didn't stab him.

Tsila nodded, wearing a pained smile. "That was a human, Jeskura. A distant one, but a human. And even a human admired through a scrying pool is a bonfire any demon or angel will find warmth from."

Jes opened her mouth, closed it, frowned some, but relented.

"Good point."

Daoka clicked up a storm, scrunching up her nose as she squatted beside her girlfriend.

Jes smiled. "Dao also has a point, too. We were strangers when we first met. We hit it off in seconds. Love at first sight."

Moriah and Tsila traded glances. They didn't believe her. And Jes noticed. She leaned forward, ready to get up and start a fight, but David tugged her arm and pulled her back.

"I don't know shit about angels or demons," he said. "I do know you're not human. But I also know there's more going on than just the stereotypical view you probably have of each other. I bet demons think angels are nothing but righteous crusaders who can only hate demons, love humans, and have nothing in between."

The demons traded glances, as if what he'd said was obvious truth. David rolled his eyes.

He continued. "I think we got a lot to learn about each other, and it's best we give each other a bit of wiggle room for perceptions, okay? Give each other the benefit of a doubt."

Everyone frowned at first, but it faded. The Las hadn't bothered frowning to begin with.

Laoko and Acelina were less convinced. The two ancient demons, sitting at the giant bone table in the room, traded their own glances. Acelina didn't need a face to wear that 'what drivel' body language. But, in a feat of infinite wisdom, David didn't call her out on it.

A while later, Septima and her guards fetched them.

"We go?" David asked.

The tiger nodded. "We go."

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

Septima was right. They went back down into the depths, near the bottom, opened a door, followed a flesh tunnel similar to the hatching grounds, and stepped deep into underground tunnels again.

Mostly the same group as last time. Septima, some of her honor guard, David, the girls, and Domnius. Tacharius and Zabulon stayed behind. That was fine. Shit might get violent, and while some volas could fight, those two were the talky type, not fighty type.

Down, and down, a spiraling stairway of rock that someone had forged. And with its size, not only could a tetrad have fit through it, a child of the Old Ones could have, too.

"This isn't natural," David said. "I can feel it. Someone used music to carve this."

"Yes," Septima said, leading the way on shaky legs. "I imagine one of the Old Ones did, for the spire ruler. It is large. Children of the Old Ones used this path."

"So Tarkissa just filled in for the last spire ruler? I mean, Belial and Astaroth were up to no good before Tarkissa was in charge, if they'd built this path?"

"Vinzar before Tarkissa," Laoko said behind him. "A tetrad. Though before him, I imagine a child of the Old Ones ruled the Scar."

"Sagreeius before him," Caera said. "A child of Azazel."

David looked back at her, and she smiled down at him from higher up the stairs. His girlfriend was smart.

"And what is the plan?" Septima asked. "This tunnel is likely to take us to a place we can speak with Astaroth and Belial, and perhaps Azazel, too. Will you simply tell them you are leaving them trapped?"

"I mean, I guess? I owe Azazel that much, if we can speak to him here. It. Whatever. Though..."

"Though?" Septima looked back and up at him with a scrutinizing eye.

"I'm hesitant to say we should just... ignore them. Azazel's in better condition than its kin, strong enough it could use music and help us. But according to it, it's still wounded, and trapped."

"And?"

"And we're going to war with some kind of alien thing. I know you haven't seen the invader, but we have. They slaughtered angels, Septima, by the hundreds. We could use some help."

She stopped. Everyone stopped. It was a strange place for a meeting, but that was the price for doing everything so damn fast. How long did countries usually wait after dethroning a king before handing out new orders and making new plans?

"You want their help?" Septima asked.

He put up his hands. "I'm just saying, it's an option, right? Azazel helped us out, and--"

"Tarkissa and Azailia were going to sacrifice you to Astaroth and Belial, unmarked."

"I get that. But let's talk with them first and see if--"

Laoko growled, and everyone looked up at her. That was a strange sound from the normally smooth and silky woman.

"Do not be a fool, David," she said. "These are the first demons. They have only one desire. To rule. You cannot trust them."

"I get that! I do. I'm just... what are we going to do?"

"Whatcha mean?" Jes asked.

"I mean, we're trying to get to False Gate. Angels are having a civil war over our heads. Azailia is on our ass and might roll into the Scar and start a war. We have to get through the Red Pits, and assuming Khazeer works with us, we still have to push through the Navameere Fields, and deal with another unmarked on the warpath in our direction. Angels will interfere, and so will the invader. Maybe even the rider." He sighed and leaned his weight on his staff. "I'm just looking for another tool in the toolkit."

Everyone traded glances; a pretty damn common occurrence today.

Daoka clicked a few times and shook her head. Everyone nodded.

"The riiva is correct," Laoko said. "The risk is too great. You may think me harsh for killing the bailiff Priscillian, but this is not the same. These entities are beyond ancient, and consumed with only one purpose. You cannot reason with them. You cannot use them. You can only bury them until we have a better option."

He blinked at Daoka, but the satyr nodded at him with a small smile. If Daoka said he couldn't trust them, he couldn't trust them.

"Alright," he said. "We go down there, get a lay of the land, and figure out what to do."

Everyone nodded, and they resumed the walk down.

They may as well have walked into the underground lair of some major villain in a Disney movie, a wizard or something. The spiraling staircase tunnel opened up to a colossal cavern bigger than the one they'd found Azazel in, a giant pit of shadow they couldn't see the bottom of, or the distant walls. Just blackness. And David and the group stood on a ledge at the top of the cavern, like a balcony without the railing, and looked down into the pit.

Sticking up from the edge of the balcony were three scrying pools. Except, not scrying pools. Scrying pools were usually large black bowls with silver liquid inside. Sometimes they sat on burning bushes, sometimes on rocks, sometimes on metal or bronze skulls grown from the ground. These three sat on solid metal rods sticking a few feet up from the ground, each a couple of meters wide, and each filled with blood.

David reached out with his sixth sense. A rune lit up in his mind. Communication? Did Hell have phones? Smartphones, with screens! He ran up to the center bowl and touched it, and the rune on the front side of the bowl. The rune in his mind awakened, and like a key fitting into a lock, he understood what he was looking at.

It wasn't a smartphone. He couldn't call anywhere. He could only call to a specific location, somewhere the blood bowl was connected to when it'd been grown. And the connection didn't go very far, maybe fifty kilometers. Damn.

Things stirred in the shadow below. David sucked in a breath and stared down over the edge of the balcony, and looked for the endless oblivion of the invader's void he'd seen before. It wasn't there. Whatever was down in the shadow below, not his eyes nor his sixth sense found the strange, endless eternity of the aliens. Just regular shadow from a cavern ceiling blocking out the burning sky, thank god.

The bowl in front of him rippled, and the blood changed, morphing into a giant demon eye. Or, it was a camera zoomed in on a giant eye.

"Unmarked," a voice said, rippling from the bowl. It vibrated up the cavern walls, too, and David did a double take down at the bowl, and at the bottomless pit far below. The voice came from down there, and the rippling bowl at the same time. Uh oh.

David looked at Septima. She approached, stood up on her hind legs, and glared down at the center bowl. The giant eye snapped toward her.

"You," the voice said, and again, it rumbled throughout the cavern. "You killed Tarkissa?"

"I did," Septima said. She flexed her fingers and grabbed the edges of the bowl. "Which one are you? Astaroth or Belial?"

The other two bowls lit up. The one on the left showed an eye they recognized; they'd seen dozens of them already. The one on the right was new.

"You succeeded," Azazel said from the left bowl. The bowl rippled, but the walls did not. Azazel wasn't nearby.

"We did," David said, and glared down at the center bowl. "Septima asked you a question, Old One. Which one are you?"

The center eye glared. "I am Belial."

The right eye was only half open, but it managed a weak glare of its own up from the blood bowl. "I am Astaroth."

Septima and David looked at each other, and she gestured to him. Ball was in his court, then.

"Tarkissa's plan is foiled," David said. "You must deal with me, now." Talk big, sound big.

Azazel's bowl chuckled. The other two eyes roared. Sure enough, the cavern vibrated with it, a mix of voices of different pitches and timbers. Astaroth and Belial were down there.

"You," Belial said. "You are David. Azazel spoke of you."

Again, Azazel laughed. "I did."

Azazel was kilometers away. How was it talking to its brothers? Music? Or maybe they had their own blood bowls? It was hard to tell. Maybe they could talk to each other through their music? Fuck, if he could learn to talk to Mia long distance with the music, that'd be amazing.

"I am David," he said. "Tarkissa is dead. Septima is the new spire ruler, and she has no intention of sacrificing me." He came closer and glared down at Belial. Nothing more than a shimmering image of an eye filling a big bowl. "How stupid do you have to be to think that was a good idea?"

Again, more growls. David glanced back at the tunnel they'd come down from. It was only a dozen meters behind them, easy to get to, and no Old One was fitting through it and up the stairway within. Even one of their hands was too big. If they had to, they could run to it for safety. Probably.

"Your power," Belial said. "An unmarked's power. It shall be mine. I will rise and--"

David's patience snapped like a fragile twig. Oh for fuck's sake.

He slammed the base of his staff into the balcony, and the cavern echoed with the harsh impact. "Enough!" The three eyes froze. He did not have time for this typical villain monologue bullshit. "Enough. I'm down here to talk to you because I thought maybe there was some value in that. But it took you a whole ten seconds to prove what we'd feared. You're not reasonable. You're ancient assholes who think everyone else is just a stepping stone to... what? Take up Lucifer's mantle? You want my ability to play music with Hell so you can free yourself, take back your spire, take over all the spires, take over all of Hell, fight Heaven, take over Heaven, take over the surface, and fight off the invader? You really think you're strong enough to do that, against an entity I've seen rip Death's Grip apart from end to end!?" His voice echoed in the new quiet.

It took a bit for the eyes to respond. Maybe they were in shock a soul had the nerve to speak to them that way. Good. Maybe it was the teenager in him acting up, but there was something deeply satisfying about telling off someone much older than him.

"We are the children of Lucifer," Astaroth said. Again, its eye didn't open all the way. Maybe it couldn't. "We will claim what is ours. We must."

"You'll do no such thing. You'll stay down there, broken, trapped, and when I've saved the Great Tower, I'll take a trip back here, and use music so strong, I'll sink you deep and you'll never get out."

That got some heavy roars of rage, and the blood in the bowls splashed and trembled. But nothing happened. David waited, staff in hand, eyes aimed down into the pit below past the balcony edge, but for all the stirring of shadows down in the black, nothing happened. Astaroth and Belial were down there, and they weren't getting out. They must have been far worse off than Azazel.

"You will stay where you are," David said. "And Azazel. You--"

"I will stay here, as well."

David blinked down at the giant eye. "You..."

The hydra chuckled. "I am not the same mindless fool as my brothers. You will not risk my power. I would be too dangerous to be let free." Another laugh, and the eye smiled somehow. "But soon, you will come back. When your plans fail, you will come back to me, seeking an ally. And with the power of the spire and your song, you will free me. And together, we will defeat the alien."

David sucked in a breath and looked at Septima. She stared down at the bowl, mouth almost hanging open.

"You think?" David asked the bowl.

"I know," Azazel said. "I knew when we first met. I knew from the way you spoke, and from the way you climbed my altar, that you would not free me. At first. You are not a soul meant for the torments of Hell. You should have been Heaven-bound, but for the strange machinations of your blood. No, I knew from the first word that you would have no intention of helping me, or Lucifer." The hydra chuckled, and it almost sounded like Laoko's chuckles, subtle, sly, and evil. "But you know the measure of my kin. And you know the measure of me. I will do whatever is necessary to save the Great Tower, no matter what. And I know that you believe me. With time, you will come to me, and you will beg for my aid."

David blinked down at the bowl and looked at the two others. More grumbles and roars floated up from the cavern, two royally pissed off Old Ones, and the image of their eyes blurred as the blood bowls tried to stay in focus with them, like a tracking camera.

Astaroth and Belial were moving.

An arm reached up from the black, a demon arm, except the hand had a dozen fingers, with monstrous claws and strange black bumps on the skin. And a second arm stuck out of it at the elbow joint. It didn't look all that big, but as it scraped at the rock wall and climbed higher, David gulped in a heavy breath. It was like one of those optical illusions caused by distance, the arm hiding its true size even as it grew closer and closer.

David gestured everyone back, and they ran for the tunnel. David and Septima stayed on the balcony, and he peered over the edge, watching as the shadows stirring below rose and gained color. Dark reds with monumental spikes and horns erupting from strange shapes, and dozens of eyes on a strange skull that looked half demon, half insect. If Azazel was a hydra, whatever this thing was was a fucking praying mantis with too many eyes, and too many arms. The body didn't make sense, but that didn't stop it from reaching higher and higher.

David stood his ground. He glared down at the creature, Belial most likely, and prepared a song. If he had to strike down the giant monster, he would.

Belial grew closer and closer, and from the body language, it was half the creature climbing, and half the creature simply standing up, its titanic body rising like Godzilla rising from the ocean. Except it was far bigger than Godzilla.

"David?" Septima asked.

He shook his head. "It won't reach us. If it could reach us, this balcony wouldn't be here. These communication pools wouldn't be here."

"Are you sure?" she asked, and as the cave shook, she got back on all fours.

"Pretty sure."

"Pretty sure is not--"

The creature swung up at the balcony, but it could not reach. The hand crashed into the wall a couple football fields below, but that was enough they could see the details in the arm, the extra arm sticking at the elbow, the spikes sticking out of the flesh in a million places, and massive gashes in the flesh oozing blood.

The center blood bowl blurred, and the eye within disappeared. No need for it now, not while Belial's head poked up from the shadows, a massive, wide thing with an array of eyes along its V-shaped visage.

"Release me!" it roared, and the violent rumble rocked the cavern until small rocks fell from the ceiling.

That wasn't just the roar of an angry, ancient entity. That was the scream of a livid, hungry animal.

David looked back at Azazel's eye. It was chuckling. The fuck happened between these three over the past few billion years?

Something touched David's shoulder, and he snapped his head back. Caera, standing, a hand on him and ready to pull him back, her single eye wide.

"It's okay," he said.

"You say that, but you're shaking."

He laughed, nodding, and listened to his heart. Yeap, beating a million times a minute.

"Release me!" the monster said, and its voice ripped through him like thunder. "Release me!"

With a heavy sigh, David poked his head out over the edge a little further, and glared straight down at the monster. Caera kept a hand on his shoulder, in case he fell. Thank god, because the cave shook hard as the weird insect-like creature slammed another arm with two arms attached to it against the wall, each hand far bigger than a city bus.

"Belial," Astaroth said, its eye still in the right pool. "Stop."

The creature below stopped raging. Still standing up from the shadow, still latched onto the wall, Belial panted, but to a creature that big, panting was slow, deep breaths, and each poured up over the cavern wall, and up to the ceiling with David and the group. Stale air that smelled of blood and bones.

Something else reached up from the shadow, a hand unlike the others, and it gently -- if something that big could be gentle -- grasped Belial's hand and helped it back down into the darkness below. And as the titans sank back into the depths, its eye came back into focus in the blood bowl.

Crisis averted, for now. If Astaroth and Belial truly were injured and trapped, they must have healed quite a bit over billions of years, and their prison or whatever bound them wasn't as strong as it used to be. They'd break out eventually, but maybe it'd take another billion years.

David stood in front of the three bowls and gently tapped his staff against the balcony.

"Belial and Astaroth, you two are to remain where you are. Azazel, you make a compelling argument. If things go poorly, and I'm left with no other choice, then I'll return and we'll negotiate."

Azazel's bowl chuckled, the confident chuckle of a creature who knew they'd eventually get what they want.

"I have waited a long time," it said. "I can wait a while longer."

David frowned. The creature was too damn reasonable. Belial and Astaroth seemed completely obsessed with their goal to the point of animal insanity, but Azazel gave him chills. Throughout their conversations before, Azazel had known David wouldn't release it. The Old One knew how to play the long game.

"And," David said, "if push comes to shove, maybe Astaroth and Belial as well, if they can be forced to play nice."

"Without the power of Lucifer?" Azazel said. "Unlikely."

The other two bowls rumbled with quiet growls, and the two huge eyes glared at David like angry prisoners glaring at an abusive warden.

"Either way," David said. "You two, give it some thought. If we're all about to die, then I guess I'd have nothing to lose releasing you, would I?" More rumbles. "Good. Now, I'm off to the Red Pits to stop another unmarked on her way here on a killing spree. Any advice?"

Azazel spoke first. "Abaddon of the Navameere Fields is likely consumed with fighting Apollyon of the Red Pits, deep beneath the skin of Mother Hell. I doubt much has changed."

"So I don't have to worry about them?"

Belial spoke next, and David almost took a step back.

"You do not. Most likely."

"I hear whispers," Astaroth said. "The other unmarked is a soul worthy of Hell. They seek power."

David looked back at the girls, but all of them looked to Astaroth's blood bowl, eyes widening. An unmarked like David, same powers, but with the shit personality of a Hell-bound soul. Lovely.

"Any idea what they'd do to find that power?" David asked.

Astaroth, eye still half-lidded, chuckled, and it didn't have any of the suave playfulness of Azazel.

"What we did," it said. "Hunt the unmarked."

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

They went back to the throne room for the third time that day. Walking up and down the stairs and the spire over and over was draining, more for the demons than David. He dismissed his armor to make the trek easier, but the demons couldn't, and demons hated long-distance anything. By the time they were back in the throne room, they were all exhausted.

Septima took the throne and leaned against the arm. "The mystery has been answered," she said. "We know about Belial and Astaroth. We know they are trapped and unable to hurt us. Only a wandering, adventurous imp or grem could find that tunnel and scale those walls."

"Domnius," David said, "said the imps and grems avoid that cavern."

"Yes!" Domnius said. He'd returned with a few other imps and grems, and they perched on the giant bone table nearby. "Avoid. Dangerous."

"Yes," the new spire ruler said. "We do not need to worry about the Old Ones for now." Sighing, Septima lightly tapped her new horn with a claw, like a kid with a fresh cast, testing out the texture. "We do need to worry about the unmarked headed our way, and the Grave Valley attacking us from the other end. We're pinned, and you"--she gestured to David--"are leaving. Quite the... pickle? Quite the pickle you've left us in."

David winced. "Yeah. I know." He looked at the others, but everyone stood around, waiting for him and Septima to solve the issue. Only Laoko had something to say.

"Azailia is not our concern," the tetrad said. "The Great Tower is."

"I get that," David said. "But when Tarkissa was working with Azailia, that was the Scar working with the Grave Valley. Now..." He gestured around. "Azailia's going to find out what we did, soon, and then she's going to run this place over. The Scar has no military, right? It got along with the neighboring provinces through trade. I'd prefer we didn't just leave them to fend for themselves, Laoko."

The tetrad was not persuaded.

"Unless you can use your music from here to block the Grave Valley off from us," she said, "war is coming. If you play the music too loudly, we will have to deal with the invaders, aliens that defeated angels. We cannot stay here and fight the war for the Scar."

Septima nodded. "Laoko is correct, David. You have dumped a problem in my lap, but I cannot blame you. It had to be done." Sighing, she undid the strap of a wrist guard and tossed the heavy metal to the floor. "I have two weeks at most to gather every vola of the Scar, equip them with what weapons and armor I can find, and--"

"Domnius help!" The gremlin hopped over, and his little hooves clopped on the metal floor in the silence, all eyes aimed at him. "Get imps. Get grems. They trust! Trust David. If David trust Septima, we trust Septima. We fight!"

Something close to a small smile snuck its way onto Septima's lips.

"Killing Tarkissa and his closest soldiers is a pale comparison to fighting off a force ten times as large, little gremlin. Maybe more."

But Domnius just shrugged. "We like Scar. Like changes David wants to make. Will find rest of imps and grems. Defend!"

"How many?" Septima asked.

"Trillions!"

David facepalmed. "How about a size comparison, Domnius? There were many imps and grems in the fight against Tarkissa. How many more could you find to help defend the Scar against the Grave Valley? Twice as many?"

Domnius looked down and tapped on his new, oversized helmet, and flapped his small wings a couple dozen times. Maybe it was an issue with words, because after a minute, he held up all ten fingers.

"Ten times as many?" Septima asked. "Are you serious?"

Domnius nodded. "More. Need time, but more! Imps and grems hide in Scar, have for many time. From Red Pits. From Grave Valley. From further! Hide deep in Scar."

David smiled and looked at Septima. "When I met Domnius, there were thousands of imps and grems in that one cave, a cave only an imp or grem could get to. And I can feel lots of caves like that in the Scar, beneath my feet, hidden. Like an ant hive." He held up a hand before anyone could ask what an ant hive was. "I guess the army Domnius found before was all he could get on short notice."

Domnius nodded. "I can find more! Much more! They like Floor. Hide in shadows. Always hide." The crazy gremlin's eye shot a glare at Septima. "Demons eat imps and grems. Lots."

Nodding, Septima gestured to David. "David has made his rules clear, Domnius. The Scar will change. We have always avoided demon-on-demon violence more than the other provinces. Now that will include the imps and grems."

Domnius stood tall at a huge four feet, and with a big grin, saluted, and ran off, leaving Septima with a raised brow.

David facepalmed again. "I think he just ran off to gather an army and start a war. You might wanna find him before he marches straight into the Grave Valley."

With a groan to match, Septima gestured to one of her brutes, and the huge guy gave chase.

"When do you leave?" Septima asked.

David looked to his girls.

Daoka shrugged. Jeskura shrugged. Caera shrugged. The Las dangled from random cages and chains, not paying attention. Acelina shrugged. Tsila shrugged.

Moriah flapped her wings once. "We should rest for a couple of days."

"A couple of days," Laoko said, nodding. "And then we leave. And when we run into your other bailiff, Tatiana, we will see her measure."

Septima nodded. "Then we are finished here." With slow hands, Septima took off her shin guards, breastplate, and struck David still. Massive scars. Demons didn't normally get scars, healing too fast to get them if they had food. For a demon to get a scar, it had to be a serious wound, and Septima's body was covered in them.

"How did you get that!?" Jeskura asked, gesturing to her. Daoka mirrored, clicking and gesturing.

Septima shrugged, got on all fours, and walked out of the throne room. Everyone followed.

"You must have noticed I am not like the other demons of the Scar," she said.

Caera chuckled and walked alongside the slightly larger tiger. "Yeah, we did."

"I am from Angel's Spine."

"Shit, really?" Jes asked. "How'd you get all the way here?"

"A long journey. Many battles. But it is the hatchery where I earned these scars. The hellbeasts of Angel's Spine share the hatching grounds with us, and mutated as they are on archangel flesh, they are strong."

David perked up. "The hellbeasts eat archangel flesh?"

"Yes. They gnaw and chew on it, and change. They mutate, grow strange limbs, and grow stronger, larger, and bold. All the demons of Angel's Spine are forged against the tooth and claw of hellbeasts. Many lose limbs. I am lucky."

David stroked his chin. "Archangel flesh makes people mutate? Demons, too?"

"Demons can change, yes. Humans, too. But the flesh changes them, damages the mind." She shrugged, as if nothing she had just said meant anything.

It meant a lot to David. Mia had to get through Angel's Spine.

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

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

~~Day 97~~

~~Mia~~

"Unmarked," Dobasi said. "You must see this."

Because of course he'd say something like that, first thing in the morning.

She didn't argue. The look on his face was serious, and while Dobasi was the ever-serious type, this was more. She put on her batlam rune, summoned her armor and staff, and everyone made the trek back down to the basement of the spire.

Azreal and Noah were back, and hadn't explained if they'd accomplished anything last night. A path to James? Spot the rider? Nothing. Maybe they really were doing what Yosepha originally thought, and were flying around, hunting down damned souls, demons, and killing them, maybe in some sort of attempt to hold off the 'dread' that'd been affecting angels for thousands, maybe millions of years now. But Vin thought maybe they weren't, and Vin had every reason to despise the two angels he'd fought before.

Unfortunately, Azreal and Noah didn't elaborate, and Mia didn't want to push. She glanced back at them, and they avoided eye contact. Message clear: leave them alone. But at least they stayed close and at the ready, armor out and weapons drawn.

They each took one of her shoulders and flew her down into the pit at the base of the spire. Mia's crew followed Dobasi into the unholy chapel, and again, Dobasi presented them with the giant blood pool on the floor.

"I spoke with the archangels," he said. "Or what remains of them."

Mia held the tetrad's gaze. If Raphael spent his last bit of energy teaching her a few runes, then what was done was done, and there wasn't any point in pissing Dobasi off, telling him one of his sources of information was gone. Instead of playing the prompting game, she waited for him to continue.

Dobasi rumbled and waved a hand at the blood pool. Surrounded by charred bone, the pool swirled softly and summoned an image.

James.

"Oh thank god," she said. Without a vision of his death, she knew he was still alive, but that wasn't the same as seeing him with her eyes.

James looked around the same age as Mia, dark skin, shaved head, average height, and in good shape. And if Mia squinted, she saw a bit of David's jaw and eyebrows in him. Distant blood relative, if she guessed right.

Adron was with him, and the incubi, and Yulia the bat girl, her unnamed brute she rode everywhere, and Livian the tetrad, and Silvina, a tiger. That was all that was left of the Damall from Death's Grip, and the way things were going, the last of the Damall anywhere.

They were running. The image was blurry, and it followed James and nothing else, but around James, glimpses of details came. Some people were bleeding, Adron included. James was on Silvina's back, riding her like a horse. Everyone was winded.

"What's going on!?" Mia yelled. "They're running, and--"

Dobasi gestured at the pool again. Whatever sign language he'd learned, it was enough to turn the pool to face away from James, and behind them instead. Far as Mia's encounter with Raphael went, the archangel could only see her. Maybe with Michael and Gabriel's power, the spire could see more?

The blood pool looked back and revealed the swarm. Whatever giant cave James and the others were in, they weren't alone. They ran up a bridge of bone to a higher layer of rock and flesh, and behind them, souls gathered and rushed after them. The damned souls looked rabid, screaming and drooling, eyes wide, muscles bulging. They wielded weapons, meera weapons far too heavy for any normal human to wield. And some of them ran along the walls.

"Beelzebub's followers," Dobasi said. "He has forced archangel flesh down their gullets."

"Fucking christ. Azreal! Noah! Can you get to him?"

Noah shook his head. "I do not know where he is, or a path to get to him."

Dobasi squatted down over the blood pool and eyed the terrain running by. "There," he said, and pointed at the wall. Not a wall in the blood pool, but a wall inside the bone cathedral. With another second to think about it, he adjusted his direction, and pointed up a bit. "That way. Twenty miles."

"Twenty?" Mia got on her hands and knees and glared down at the blood pool. Thirty-two kilometers. "He's only gotten twenty miles away the past couple days?"

"Angel's Spine is a maze, full of deadly hellbeasts and roaming bands of souls, some of them Cainites. They were probably searching for the surface and failing."

Maze it was. Mia clenched her jaw and looked around as if she could do something, but there wasn't shit she could do. In the basement of the spire, so far away from James and Adron, she couldn't do a fucking thing except watch them die in the blood pool.

She wouldn't let James die. She wouldn't let Adron die! Adron was her damn friend, and she owed him a lot. And if shit hit the fan, it might be James they needed to reach Lucifer and save the universe, not her. She needed him alive. She didn't rescue him just to lose him.

"Do something!" she yelled.

Dobasi shrugged. "I can do nothing. He is too far, and I cannot communicate with him. The blood pool--"

"Send demons out! You know where that place is, so send demons! Tell Azreal and Noah how to get there!"

Again, Dobasi shrugged. "I can give them instructions, but they will be long and complicated. I came to you because I thought maybe you had a way to reach a fellow unmarked, and perhaps communicate with him."

"Even if I could talk to him, what good would that do!?"

The tetrad stood up and stared at her, slowly flexing his wings. "Would you rather I did not show you at all?"

She needed a plan. And the first one that came to mind was not a good one.

She stood up, clenched her staff, and reached out with her sixth sense. It wasn't just the spire itself blurring her sense, but the archangel flesh mixing with everything, blurring the lines of the environment. But if she was right, it wouldn't matter. And she had to do something.

"You're right," she said. "Thank you. Guys, we need to get outside the spire."

Dobasi tilted his head and shared a quick glance with his partner Cillia. "What do you plan to do?"

"Azrael, Noah, Yosepha," Mia said. "Was Dobasi's finger enough for you to know the exact path toward James? If you had to fly in a straight line, could you do it?"

The angels nodded, but they all looked confused.

They were going to look horrified in a minute.

"Alright. Take me out, and get me on the ground."

Dobasi protested, but everyone ignored him. Azreal and Noah took her arms again, and Cerberus let out an excited rumble as he gave chase as the angels took her back up the spire and to the exit. They went fast, and the demons struggled to keep up, but it wasn't long before everyone was outside, back on rock and stone, surrounded by black metal spikes and odd bone structures.

She sighed as she looked up at the spire, the giant tower of spiky metal stabbing down through the ground and up through the flesh above. Demons congregated around her, covered in scars, missing a horn or limb or wing, and they watched with curiosity as she found her footing. She tapped the ground a few times with her staff, listened to it echo through her, and she reached out with her sixth sense.

She had to do this. She had to do this. If she didn't, James and Adron and Faust and the others would die.

She looked back at the crew. Romakus and Julisa watched her, analyzing. Cerberus stood at Mia's hip, waiting. Kas and Vin carried their usual, quiet, stoic, bring-it-on postures, for which she was eternally grateful. The angels were confused.

"Mia?" Yosepha asked. "What do you plan to do?"

"Get to James."

"How?"

"I'm going to play a song."

Yosepha shook her head and stepped in front of her. "A song that will take you to James?"

"Sort of. It'll be a strong song."

"But... if you do that, if the armored woman is right--"

"Yeah, I know. But it's better than just letting James die."

"Is it?" Yosepha set her hands on Mia's shoulders and met her gaze, her dark eyes glaring through the t-slit opening of her helmet. "People will die, and--"

"And James needs to survive."

"I understand he is unmarked, but if he dies, you still live. As does your brother. Do you--"

"Yes! I do!" Mia slammed her staff against the rock again, and the crack silenced the angel and the murmuring, growing crowd of demons filling the dark cavern.

Yosepha took a step back and looked around her, sighing.

"There is nothing you can do from here," Dobasi said. He stood with his fellow tetrads Anianus and Cillia, and a dozen brutes stood with them. Honor guard, maybe, to club Mia on the head and bring her back inside if she tried to run.

Mia squeezed her staff, held it in front of her, and looked back at the angels.

"Point me in the direction Dobasi had pointed."

All three angels pointed in a specific direction, extremely specific, like laser pointers.

Mia looked around at the cavern, at the giant spire beside her stabbing through both the ceiling and ground, displaced billions of years ago by the falling bodies of archangels above. Beyond the spire, the cavern itself was colossal, with enormous walls of rock covered in the falling blood of archangels, bloodfalls that flowed into unending crimson rivers that flowed on by. This was the battleground. If she was lucky, Dobasi wouldn't try to kill her after this was over. But he probably would.

She looked back at Vin, and the child of Belial nodded. He knew what was going to happen, better than anyone, and he came closer and stood over her.

"Mia," Romakus said. "What are you planning? Do you even have a plan? Dobasi just dropped a bombshell, and--"

Mia summoned the song.

Hell shook. The ground trembled. The bone bridges nearby convulsed and shattered. Stalactites fell from the ceiling and stabbed into the ground. Rocks broke and sent pebbles scattering. The metal spikes sticking up from the ground vibrated like tuning forks.

"Unmarked," Dobasi said, glaring. "What are you doing? You--"

Vin growled down at the tetrad, stepped around Mia, and put himself between her and the watching demons.

"Touch her," he said, "and you die."

Mia smiled up at Vin. Everyone was with her, even if they were confused about what she was doing. They'd understand in a minute, and hopefully stop Dobasi from killing her.

Mia reached deep inside her and found the heaviest strings she could. The song was simple, very simple, but she couldn't play it loud enough. She needed help. She reached down into the ocean of silent song and invisible strings, and played the chord as loud as she could.

Hell listened. Mia's mind sank into the warm, welcoming embrace of the ocean, and this time, she didn't resist. The other part of her, the conscious part, the part of her mind responsible for complicated thoughts, stayed behind. But the core part of her, the part that felt, a primal part so much simpler, swam deeper into the ocean.

Her soul? The thought drifted away, lost on the surface of the water. All that was left was the goal.

Save her friend. Save her comrade. Save her companion. Save them. And a voice reached up from the depths and sang to her.

Play for me, my child. I will play with you. Sing for you. Dance with you.

She pointed the staff and its ruby in the direction the angels had pointed, and crashed her inner fingers upon the strings. And the silent music vibrated through her insides until her brain shook in her skull. No, that wasn't inside her. That was outside her.

"Unmarked!?" Dobasi's lover yelled. Cillia stepped back, eyes wide as she drew her swords. "What are you doing!?"

Mia didn't answer. She couldn't answer. The waves pulled her along, and she went with them. The cavern trembled harder, imps and grems fell from their perches, and distant demons fell on their asses. They came closer, circled her, many falling to a knee or catching themselves with their wings if they had them, and all had their eyes on Mia, and the new amber light growing from her.

Mia's staff glowed. The burning fire inside the ruby head of her staff brightened, at first a gentle glow like a candle, and growing into a scorching flare. She had to direct the song in a specific direction, guide the chord, or she'd kill them all.

The ground rumbled underneath her, and someone set hands on her shoulders, keeping her on her feet. She couldn't see who it was. Would she even know their name right now if she could? All that existed was the sound buzzing through her body like she'd grabbed onto a roaring engine with her bare hands.

Make a path for me, Mother.

As you wish, my daughter.

Mia slammed her fingers down on the chord again, as hard as she could. She wasn't strong enough to break the cavern apart under her own power, but she wasn't alone. The warmth of Hell joined her, and turned her chord into a shattering crescendo on the pipe organ of a colossal cathedral. The cavern could not withstand the pressure, and opened.

The ceiling split apart, and blood fell on them like she'd just opened Niagara Falls. More hands grabbed her and held her in place as the crimson liquid filled the cavern like a tsunami and smashed into her legs. Amber light from above cut through the growing crack in the ceiling, and the demons gasped as they stared up at something many of them probably hadn't seen in years. The burning sky.

"Mia!" Anianus yelled. "What are you--"

A split ran along the ceiling, cut past the spire, and reached the cavern wall where the angels were pointing. It cracked down through the wall like split glass, and the canyon in the ceiling opened wider, bringing more blood down into the cavern until two hanging flabs of red flesh and white skin hung from the crack's two sides like curtains. Archangel flesh from above.

The wall in front of Mia, distant and vast, split apart in the same way, and invited another bloodfall to drown them. Again, the red liquid smashed into her, but hands kept her in place. Something rumbled and roared beside her, but she didn't look. Voices rang in her ears, but she couldn't hear them. She played the note again and again, and each crash of her fingers against the silent sound shook the cavern in rhythm.

The wall broke apart, split apart, and the tunnels beyond it split apart with it. It was like God had reached down, sank their fingers into Angel's Spine, and tore open the top layer. It was a wonder the ground under Mia's feet didn't crack open with it and sink her and her friends down into death. Hell played the song, and guided her along the notes to the goal.

Tear open a path. Rip open a path straight along the way Mia's staff pointed. Straight to James.

And Hell did so. The spire groaned as it shuddered with the hellquake, but the split through the ceiling and the wall beyond left it untouched. The seam through the world ripped rock apart, and bone, and archangel flesh, and where archangel bone mixed with Hell's rock and metal, the force tore it apart as well. The hellquake did not stop, and the crack through Hell did not stop either, exposing kilometers upon kilometers of the underground labyrinth to the ember sky above.

Someone came for Mia and reached for her, trying to stop her. Someone else pushed them back, and they fell into the growing blood lake. Mia dared not look. She hit the notes again and again, and pried Hell apart. The air in her lungs burned. Her feet trembled in her armor. Her eyes blurred with tears and sweat. The fingers around her staff ached as they squeezed, but she did not relent. Forge a path. Reach James. Reach Adron.

The image in her mind was clear, even as it blurred in the ocean of existence. One crystal clear memory that stayed with her, broke through the surface, and sang in her soul as she ripped Hell apart and cut a path. Moses, parting the Red Sea.

She succeeded. Gasping, she placed the butt of her staff on the ground and leaned on it, even as the rushing blood of the archangels tried to knock it out from under her. The cavern's floor was now a colossal blood river two feet deep.

"Mia," a tetrad said. Dobasi was his name. "What have you done?"

The hellquake stopped, and Mia looked up as her thoughts returned to her. Her soul floated back up from the ocean depths, and as her mind righted itself, her eyes stared up at the wide crack in the ceiling that cut through multiple layers of rock and archangel flesh sitting on that rock. And that crack ran across the ceiling, down through the wall of the cavern, and continued on as a newly forged, thin ravine for at least fifty kilometers. Her eyes couldn't piece together what lay in the distance, only that it was a straight line, empty ground she'd carved open, with empty air above it.

A canyon, open to the sky. She'd created a canyon that she and the others stood at the bottom of. A path.

"Mia!" Romakus's voice. "Fucking christ. You couldn't have just carved a tunnel?"

Mia sucked in some air. "Tunnels are too hard. I told you. This was easier."

Everyone stared at her, and she summoned a small smile as she met their gazes.

"Fool," Dobasi said. "This will have repercussions! You do not know what problems you have laid at my feet!"

Sighing, Mia gestured to Dobasi with her staff, and the tetrad took a step back.

"Azreal, Noah, Yosepha," she said. "Go."

Azreal shook his head. "We cannot leave you, Mia."

She blinked at the man, and his purple eyes lingered on her with a look she could not wrap her mind around. Intense. Sad. Worried. She shook her head and gestured again.

"I'm fine here, go!"

Noah clenched his eyes shut for a moment, thudded the back of his gauntlet against Azreal's shoulder, and took off. Yosepha followed, looking back as she pursued her fellow mikalim down the ravine path. Azreal squinted up at Vinicius, took a breath, and followed the others. With a clear path to fly and no worry about turning or hitting anything, the two angels hit absurd speeds and quickly became white dots against the backdrop of bloodfalls flowing down into the new ravine on both sides.

"Mia," Kas said. "Are you--"

Mia froze and snapped her gaze down at the ground hidden under two feet of flowing blood. The hidden, silent ocean of warmth shrieked in icy terror, and something dark stirred within.

An invisible great eye opened underneath her where no one could see. Black. Endless. In the ocean of song, of existence, where Hell swam, and all was inviting, a black, lidless eye stared up at her and ripped the heat from her heart. She tried to scream, but her throat didn't respond. She tried to move, but her limbs were petrified. It was a gap in the song, a void, a black hole, a complete nothingness greater than nothing. And it saw her.

And she saw it. She stared at the blood rushing past her shins, and the demons stared at her, confused.

Finally, her lips moved. "Oh no."

A hellquake pulsed through the ground, and with it came the unheard silence. It shredded her mind and soul, silenced them, and she fell back into awaiting arms.

"Mia," Kas asked through Cerberus's panicked snarls. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "It's coming. It's coming. It--"

The ground ripped apart. As if Mia's ravine were a small tear on a new shirt, the black eye found it, grabbed it, and made it a thousand times worse. The ground ripped open, and Kas dove to the side with Mia in his arms. They landed in the blood, and Mia choked on the crimson liquid as it swallowed her.

A giant hand grabbed her, pulled her up from the red river, and set her on his back. She grabbed Vin's back spikes with one hand, stood on others, and dismissed her staff. Archangel blood oozed down through her armor and on her skin, but that didn't matter. She held on for dear life as the ground ripped open with more force than she could have summoned. It was stronger than her.

Hell ripped open. A canyon tore across the ground following the same path as the split in the ceiling Mia had made, and it did so in a tenth of the time. It was like an explosion, pure kinetic force that sent every demon on their asses, and Vin fell to his knees and four hands. Mia held on, squeezing his back spikes for all she was worth as the silent scream of the black eye crushed her.

It'd found her.