Epilogue
M URMUR STOOD IN FRONT OF A CRACKED, DUSTY mirror, voluntarily assessing his reflection for the first time in … however long. He didn’t know. But it had been a while.
His lip curled.
Perhaps he didn’t have to count this as his reflection. He’d rather not.
He wore his human skin for the first time in longer than he cared to remember. Because every instance he’d been forced to shift into human form was an unpleasant waste of time and he’d loathed it utterly.
He wasn’t like Raum and his sweet little brothers. He had no desire to mingle with humans on Earth where a demon’s powers were dampened. Humans were weak and breakable. They had no horns, wings, or claws. Their teeth were all flat. Their faces expressed too many emotions.
They died too quickly.
But necessary tasks called for necessary evils, and if he wanted to retrieve his missing ingredient, he needed to suffer this unpleasantness. It wouldn’t be for long, he assured himself. A grab-and-go operation.
He would collect his ingredient and return to his lair with alacrity.
And with the final piece of the puzzle secured, everything would fall into place.
He could finally begin enacting the last stages of his master plan.
He could act before the dream became reality and shattered all his years of careful scheming.
His spells would be successful. His plans would finally come to fruition.
The High King of Hell would fall.