Chapter Twenty-Three
Nina
Ash.
The air was thick with it, clinging to my skin, coating my tongue, suffocating.
Every breath scraped my throat like sandpaper as I stumbled through The Crossing.
It was a barren wasteland, stretching in every direction.
Twisted rock formations jutted from the ground, but there were no other landmarks, no paths, and no end in sight.
Why, oh why, didn’t I just run to another domain?
Because the other domains weren’t safe either. Every demon, and every Hell-dweller, was a lying, godless heathen.
I turned, my chest heaving. Where was I supposed to go? I had been running on instinct, but where would I end up if I continued to run? The Crossing felt endless, but surely it had to end?
“Leave, or fall,” the whispers hissed.
I was starting to think I’d been an absolute idiot coming out here.
To the east, the mountains rose like dark silhouettes against a bloodstained sky. But what was beyond them? I’d heard stories of Hell, a place where souls waited at gates before they were escorted to their merciless damnation. Could there be a portal of some kind back to my world?
Would I return to my own body, or perhaps return as a ghost.
The thought lodged itself in my mind like a thorn. Was there a way home? Was Tobias somewhere out there, waiting for me? Or was I trapped here, forever bound to this wicked place?
Surely, I had to find the gate back to my home sooner or later.
Shadows moved at the edges of my vision. A flicker of wings, a whisper of movement. And then the growls started.
Low. Guttural. Inhuman.
A shiver ripped through me, and I ran.
Because the Furies had found me, and they were closing in.
With one loud whoosh, a creature shot down from the sky, gusting the wind around me, and its impact cracked the ground.
Then came another Fury, and another, and another, until I was facing a horde. They were towering, twisted things. Their wings were too large for their bodies, their limbs unnaturally long, and their claws curved like reaping hooks, poised to tear the flesh from my bones.
But it was their faces that held me.
They seemed human, almost, but distorted, with eyes glowing like embers, skin drawn tight over bone and mouths full of fangs. Their bony frames jerked in twitching, insect-like movements as they prowled closer.
I spun and ran in the opposite direction, my legs shaking beneath me.
But I wasn’t fast enough.
They were upon me. One lunged as a snarl ripped from its lips, and its massive wings flared. Claws swiped towards my throat.
I raised my arms, instinct taking over, but it was too late. The fury’s claws impacted me, but where I expected searing pain, there was nothing. I looked down where the creature’s talons had scored into my clothing, but where I expected marred flesh, there was stone.
What in all the realms is that?
My skin was not skin at all. It was grey and cracked like ancient marble, just like the souls in the Letheling’s frozen graveyard.
The Fury shrieked, and its eyes widened with confusion.
“It is a gift, child,” the whispers hummed. “It will not last long.”
Then, my eyes fell beyond the Fury, to the dust-red ground swirling, twisting into a fiery vortex.
Flames curled at its centre, and from within the inferno, Leander appeared.
His cobalt-blue eyes flared brighter than ever, a stark contrast to the exhaustion lining his face.
Even weakened, he still carried himself with the quiet confidence of a predator.
But that meant more now.
Because now I knew he was a predator.
He was a demon of Hell.
He looked at me, saw the creatures circling like vultures, and sighed.
“You’re going to be the end of me, little Champion,” he muttered.
His tone was dry as if I were an inconvenience, but his breathing was laboured. He lifted a hand, and with a flick of his wrist, a shockwave of power blasted outward.
The Furies turned to him, shrieking. But they didn’t flee. They eyed us both up, as though deciding which would be the tastier meal.
Leander’s smirk faltered. He said he needed time to rest, to allow for his magic to return. So that meant his strength was still not at its fullest.
One of the creatures snarled and lunged for Leander. He moved in the blink of an eye, grasping the creature as though he were plucking a butterfly from a flower, and sent it hurtling into a rock with another flick of his wrist. But the effort made him stagger.
Through the air another Fury leapt towards him, talons at the ready. He turned, but he was too slow compared to the Fury’s speed, and claws tore across his chest. A vicious snarl escaped him as he stumbled back, his hand pressing to the wound. The gashes gaped open, and blood gushed freely.
The Fury barely had time to celebrate before Leander’s magic flared again.
Blue light erupted from him, and the creature let out a piercing scream before it was obliterated.
But there were still more. Dozens of them, and they circled, eyes locked onto Leander’s wounds.
“You’re mine, demon,” the Fury hissed.
“Time to finish this,” Leander gritted out, voice strained. His fingers curled – it seemed he was summoning the last of his strength.
The ground groaned, and cracks of molten fire split the earth. The Furies shrieked and scattered, disappearing into the ash-covered horizon.
Silence fell.
Leander collapsed to one knee, his breath ragged.
I dropped beside him, my fingers hesitating before pressing against his shoulder. His skin was burning, and the wound – a purple pulsing gash – was spreading over his skin.
He saw my worry and pursed his lips. “I’m a demon. I’ll heal later,” he muttered.
Leander was confusing my options for survival with concern for his own life.
What a stupid, arrogant demon he is.
He grabbed my hand, and we vanished into shadows and fire, before materialising in Leander’s chambers once more.
Twice in one day. And neither visit had been what I’d call a good time.
The elegance of his room seemed at odds with the blood smeared across his skin. The rich velvet drapes and the polished obsidian floors felt pristine and organised. And empty.
Leander’s eyes met mine, just for a second, before he collapsed on his bed.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
My chest clenched as I stared at him, and my thoughts raced. He'd saved me. He had used up all of his remaining power to get us out of there.
And now?
He was unconscious.
I was still pissed at myself. Pissed at Leander for the truth he’d concealed.
I was an utter fool . . . and Leander had got off on seducing me, as if I were just another simpering soul. I wondered if it had been a joke to him all along.
My head snapped up just as the door creaked open. Jules stepped inside, his eyes locked on Leander’s unmoving form.
That’s when I noticed Jules’s tense and vicious expression.
“Do you have feelings for him?” He looked at me, dead serious.
“No, he’s the Demon of Temptation that lied to me. Why would you ask that?”
Jules’s gaze flicked to Leander’s still form, then back to me. “You know, he kept us all from speaking the truth.”
“It’s okay.” I nodded. “I get it.”
“I’m sorry.” His eyes drilled into mine. “I’m so sorry.”
“Honestly, it’s fine. I know the truth now.”
He nodded. “The whispers tell me you could win The Cycle.”
I froze. “Whispers . . . You hear them too?”
He was frowning, shifting from foot to foot.
“What is it?” I asked.
He looked genuinely sad. “You can’t trust Leander. The whispers have told me exactly what needs to be done.”
“What do they say?”
“I don’t want to tell you,” he said. “It could be dangerous.”
If there was anything I’d learned in Hell, it was that nowhere and nothing was safe. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said with a smile. “I’ll be here for an eternity.”
As much as it pained me to say it, that was the truth of it. If I didn’t win The Cycle, my destiny was to endure this hellish realm.
Jules’s gaze hardened.
“What’s all this, then?” A gruff voice rang out from the hallway, shattering the tension.
Jules stiffened as Kob stepped into the room. The sprite was sharp-eyed watching everything far too closely. A bundle of clean bandages and a bowl of water were balanced in his furry arms, which were now much more monkey-like.
“You lurking outside bedrooms now, Jules?” Kob grunted.
"I was just leaving." His voice lowered to a level that only I could hear. "Be careful, okay? Don't trust anyone."
Then, without another word, Jules was gone.
I wrapped my braid around my fingers, entirely lost in where I had to go from here. The tension in my chest hadn’t faded, and my thoughts twisted around Jules’s words.
Kob raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’re about to pop a blood vessel.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe I’ve been so brainless.”
Kob placed the bowl and bandages on a low table in front of the burning fireplace and then jumped onto the sofa, stretching like a cat. “We’re all simple-minded, trapped in a never-ending hellscape.”
“Somehow, that makes it worse.”
Kob flicked his tail as he vanished, only to reappear a moment later, hanging from the chandelier by it.
“You told him where I was going, then?” I asked. It was the only explanation for why Leander had come after me.
I couldn’t be too angry. If Kob hadn’t intervened, I’d have been dinner for the Furies.
A very unpleasant second death indeed.
“You’d rather I’d kept your idiotic escape to myself?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Thanks for looking out for me. I guess that’s how you knew bandages were needed.”
“What’d you expect running into The Crossing? They’re Furies. You’re lucky, all you need are bandages.”
He didn’t need to elaborate.
The Furies were vicious. If Leander hadn’t come for me, I’d have been eaten alive.
Leander stirred. His chest rose shallowly, as if breathing had become a struggle. Thankfully, the purple wound had faded, and the pulsing seemed almost gone.
Kob hummed. “The dead awakens.”
Leander’s eyes fluttered open. Judging by the sweat on his brow, he was far from recovered. I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or something much worse.
Besides, I shouldn’t have been worrying about Leander.
One question still remained: if I won The Cycle, would Leander send me back to Tobias? I needed his word before I risked another step. It was the last card I had to play.
Kob cleared his throat. “I’ve got a pot stewing in the kitchen. I’ll be back later to see if you need anything.”
I gave him a nod before he left.
I grabbed the bowl of water and bandages and crossed to Leander.
He groaned, pulled himself upright, his movements sluggish.
He was clearly exhausted. When I smoothed the damp cloth on his wound, he snarled but didn't move away.
The edges of the gash healed beneath my touch, the skin stitching itself back together, yet the exertion seemed to exhaust Leander even further.
He was healing himself. Slowly, sure – but it was breathtaking.
“Why?” I asked, breaking the silence. “Why did you come for me?”
His eyes opened, their dimmed brilliance still piercing. “You think I could leave you to the Furies?”
“Because you want me to win the throne for you, is that it?”
“That’s not why.”
“I know that’s what it will mean if I win The Cycle, Leander. I saw it in my vision, you can’t deny it.”
He breathed in. “No one has ever won The Cycle, and that is not about to change. I came after you because there was no time to send any one else. Is that answer enough?”
I shrugged. “You could’ve just sent someone else. You didn’t have to come yourself.”
“And miss the chance to tell you I told you so?”
I scowled at him, and pursed my lips. He was insufferable.
As I cleaned his wound, I noticed how vulnerable he seemed. His eyes, usually sharp and knowing, were clouded with exhaustion. His flawless skin was now pale and marked by ash and blood.
“You think you’re the only one trapped here?” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “We’re all prisoners of Hell in our own way.”
Before I could ask what he meant, his eyes fluttered closed, his breathing evened out.
My rage simmered. My lips twitched with an explosive sneer. My hands shook with the ferocity of it all. I really was in Hell.
Exhaustion pricked at the corners of my consciousness. I just wanted it gone. So I manifested that desire in my mind. I wished my fatigue away. I felt it evaporate, as if waves had crashed upon shore, wiping away everything in their path . . .
A slow gasp escaped me. The joy of it, the magic, was alluring. It rang through me like an exquisite, miraculous sensation.
When I arrived back in my chambers, that sensation had me stumbling like I was in a feverdream. I almost missed the demon lounging in the armchair by the fire.
“Oh . . . hello, Salazar,” I mumbled.
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d reached into the fabric of Temptation with an idea, an urge to drown my sorrows, and a goblet appeared on the table. Wine filled it up to the brim. I sank into the chair across from Salazar, took the goblet, and gulped my drink.
“The more you connect with Temptation, the more you feed it.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“To drown in a sin is to spiral into a slow undoing,” he went on. “An inevitable decay.”
My mouth parted. “What makes you think I’m spiralling?”
“Using the magic of Hell is addictive for the damned. You can only last so long. Here in Temptation, you’ll crave everything you’ve ever wanted. By giving into the sin, you’re fuelling the domain, and the Demon of Temptation. By the looks of you, he’ll be having quite the fill right now.”
I swallowed, hard. “His fill?”
He nodded once. “Essence powers everything here. And your essence burns bright, but it won’t forever. Tap into a domain, and your essence will dwindle much faster.”
“What can I do?”
“Resist.”
I set the goblet down.
Salazar’s voice sank to a near whisper. “Beautiful, even in defiance.”
I held his stare for a beat. I wasn’t afraid of the blush that crept across my cheeks. His golden eyes smouldered, then his form faded, leaving me alone to face the consequences of my naive fall into the magic of Hell.
Neither Salazar nor Leander had been open about their true identities. I couldn’t deny that I was somehow losing myself in them both, more than I wanted to admit. But, now that the allure of Temptation had faded, all I felt was shame.