Chapter 21 #2
Velentha continues, “The Realm of Children is thriving under Vailith’s guidance, now that she has helping hands. The little ones are flourishing.” She rustles through some papers before looking back at me. “And finally—the flamebeasts.”
Panic stirs instantly at the mention of the ancient creatures. “What about them?”
Lucifer smirks. “Apparently your pets have been gathering.”
Aran chuckles softly. “They’re not pets. They’re allies. The watchtowers spotted them above the southern ranges. Dozens, maybe more. They were flying in formation. Almost like… training.”
I blink, the panic seizing to the warmth taking over.
Vesindiyah was true to her promise. They’re truly standing with us.
My chest aches, but in a good way. It feels like sunshine after a storm.
I picture the flamebeasts, their iridescent wings cutting through the dark, roaring defiance into the void.
Before I can reply, the door bursts open.
A messenger guard stumbles in, his face panicked as he leans over, panting.
His eyes flick between us, landing on me before he drops to one knee.
“Your Majesty,” he gasps, “a scroll was delivered by a VeliNymph from Aurora’s Veil.”
My eyes dart to Aran instinctively. He doesn’t even hesitate to take the reigns as he rises from his chair. “Bring it to her.”
The guard steps forwards, trembling slightly as he holds out the scroll to me sealed in deep silver wax—Kaelith’s insignia. The crescent moon stamped in opalite shimmers. My fingers tremble as I break it open. The parchment smells faintly of pine and frost.
Aurora’s Veil has fallen under divine attack.
Requesting immediate audience with the Queen of Hell.
Kaelith.
I read it once. Then again. The words refuse to settle into meaning, sliding across my mind like oil on water.
My fingers feel strangely numb as I pass the scroll to Aran, watching him dismiss the guard with a sharp flick of his hand before unrolling it again.
He reads it aloud to the room, his voice steady even as the air tightens around us.
Each word lands like a stone dropped into still water.
When he finishes, the room seems to shrink inward, the walls pressing closer, the air turning thin and cold.
No one speaks. Even the ever-present crackle of magical residue feels muted.
The only sound I can distinctively make out is Lucifer’s fingers drumming against the side of his goblet, matching the pounding rhythm of my heart.
Aurora’s Veil. Kaelith. My stomach twists. Memories of teeth, claws, the slick stench of blood, the shrieks of that nightmarish creature as it tore me through the skies. The last time I was there, I nearly died.
I am not a fan of Kaelith. Understatement of the century, actually. He’s manipulative. A man who always seems to know more than he should, and says less than he means. A rake of a man who has no shame when it comes to trying to bed a woman. And now he wants me there. Personally.
The room around me fills with low murmurs as everyone starts speaking over one another, voices overlapping in a rising tide of speculation and alarm. It sounds distant, muffled, like I’m underwater while the world thrashes above the surface. Divine attack. Aurora’s Veil fallen. Immediate audience.
Something about it feels wrong. Too convenient.
Too sudden. Suspicion prickles along the back of my neck.
Why ask for me specifically, and not my army?
This could be a trap. The thought hits me hard enough to make my anxiety spike even further.
Or, it could be real. People could by dying.
A ruler asking for aid—for me—isn’t something I can just ignore.
Not when I’m supposed to be Queen. Not when every realm is teetering on the edge of collapse because of me.
But despite that, the unease doesn’t fade.
It coils tighter, whispering that something is off, that walking into Kaelith’s territory again might be the worst possible decision I could make.
I shove the thought down immediately. Hard.
I don’t have the luxury of paranoia. Because if this is real and I don’t go… what kind of queen would that make me?
My jaw tightens as I force myself to breathe through the rising panic, to steady the tremor creeping into my hands. I know what I have to do. Even if every instinct I have is screaming at me not to.
I steady my breathing and lift my head, my voice cutting through the noise before I can second-guess myself. “I need to go.”
Aran’s head snaps towards me, the room falling silent. “We need to think.”
“We can do both,” I say firmly. “If a realm bleeds and I don’t stand beside them, then I don’t deserve them standing beside me. So, how do I get there?”
Lucifer snorts. “Hear that? Our flaming drama queen wants a field trip.”
Maelkar cuts him a side-eye. “Shut up, devil boy. She’s right.”
I face them all, placing my palms flat on the table. “Explain to me exactly how realm travel works for everyone. No gaps. No riddles. I want to understand how I can freely move through realms like the rest of you.”
The tension in the air is palpable. And by the looks on every person’s face, I already know I’m going to despise the answers I’m given.
Maelkar exhales, some of the playfulness draining from his face. “Start with the obvious: there are three ways to realm hop. Celestial Gates, portal doors, and teleportation.” He ticks them off on ringed fingers.
Obvious, he says. Not a single thing he just said even made any sense. And I’m not entirely sure anything he explains will, either. But I mask my face into something I’d like to think is cool, calm, and collected.
“Celestial Gates are ancient leylines,” he continues, “that rise into actual gate-arches in every realm. Old as the first language, older than the Divine Six. Think... veins. The Gates move life, trade, diplomacy. They still function. But—” he looks at me, then Aran, “—they’re cursed against the people of Hell. ”
Aran folds his arms, exhaling heavily. “After Dasmyrin, the Six etched a covenant into the light of the Gates: no child of ash and flame may pass in light. It tethered the network to reject Hellborn bodies. The gates to Hell and from Hell can still be opened, hence why the rulers can still attend and leave here. But we can’t leave through them without being, ah—”
“—Unmade,” Velentha finishes, her voice laced with guilt. “Torn apart at the threshold. Even trying to drag a Hellborn through riding someone else’s clearance… ends in ruin.”
Lucifer swirls his drink. “Tried it once by walking backwards. Grew the wings back eventually.” He flashes me a feral smile. “Would not recommend.”
I swallow. “So Virena, Sariya, Elyistria, Vor’Khar, Kaelith,” I nod to Maelkar, “You… all use the Gates to arrive here?”
“Yes,” Aran says. “Because the curse is specific to Hellborn lineage and binding oaths to Hell’s dominion. They are neither.”
“Okay,” I say, already feeling a little deflated. “Then portal doors?”
“Sealed,” Velentha answers, a grimace ghosting her mouth.
“Personal divine shortcuts. The Six carved doors straight between courts. The moment war was declared, most realm rulers shut down their endpoints. And the Six closed theirs immediately like the spineless fucks they are. No more divine drop-ins.”
I eye her warily. Does it feel odd to her, to call them the Six?
When technically now, they’re the Five? Half of me wants to bring it up, but it would just add another thing onto my plate, and it really isn’t that big of a deal right now.
Not in the grand scheme of things, anyway.
One day soon, everybody will know it’s just Five celestial assholes. Not Six.
“And teleportation?” I ask. “The way Korithax used to take me between realms.”
Aran’s gaze softens immediately, something like sympathy flickering across his features. Probably feeling sorry for me because of how stupid I sound.
“That wasn’t ordinary travel,” he says gently. “It was a rare ability. As far as I know, he is the only one who possesses it.”
My breath catches painfully in my throat. Of course he would be the only one to possess something we need so desperately.
“So… Aran, you can’t?”
He shakes his head. “Not like that. What Korithax did wasn’t portal work.
It wasn’t bound to gateways or anchor points.
He could move through the Veil itself—fold distance, step between realms as if space meant nothing.
” His mouths tightens faintly. “It’s closer to…
vanishing from one reality, and appearing in another.
And as you know, it took a lot of power from him to do so. ”
My chest aches. Each bit of information makes this visit sound impossible.
“I can portal,” he continues, voice shifting back to something more practical.
“But portals are fixed paths. They have to be opened, stabilised, and held. They tear a doorway between two specific places, and you travel through that doorway.”
“Like stepping through a tunnel,” Velentha adds softly.
Aran nods. “Exactly. And they have limits. Distance, power, and familiarity with the destination.”
“And teleportation doesn’t have those limits?”
“Not in the same way,” he says. “Teleportation bypasses the path entirely. No doorway. No visible transition. One moment you’re there, the next, you’re somewhere else.”
My stomach sinks as memories surface. Korithax’s arms around my waist, the rush of darkness, the way the world simply… changed.
“I can portal inside Hell,” Aran continues,” and to Earth. That’s it. Same for Velentha. Anything beyond that requires established gateways, cooperation from another realm, or far more power than most of us possess.”
His emerald eyes meet mine, something like an apology in his gaze. As if he’s reading the panic and disappointment in mine.
My eyes go to Maelkar. “You?”