Epilogue
Cole
He awoke in the dark, the pitch black of the room suffocating him.
He looked around, barely able to see his hand in front of his face—but he could feel something.
Was there someone in the room? Someone coming for him? The witches? His nephew? His…
No, that wasn’t possible. Haden was dead. Haden was gone—he’d taken care of him long ago. His brother could never come for him now.
Still…something wasn’t right. His sense of his Master, that pull to the chaos in his mind, that knowledge of how to please him, serve him—it had gone quiet.
Closing his eyes, he retreated into the depths of his mind, the way he often did when he sought Iblis’s guidance, and he was pleased to feel him there, but…that urge to destroy, to disrupt, to spread chaos with his Power, it was muted somehow.
What in Iblis’s name was going on?
He’d never felt this way before, it was as if…
Clutching at his chest, he rose, moving swiftly through the pitch black to grab his rune stones from the gilded gold table in the center of his chambers. He didn’t need light to see them—he knew their placement like the back of his hand.
Scattering them across the table, he picked up the ones that had landed face up, feeling the runes etched into them one by one.
Diabolus
Vocarus
Tellus
Restoras
His body went cold. Those runes…that combination. He’d never seen them before. Especially Tellus—it had been defunct since Gaia’s abandonment. It had never come face up in a reading before. And that last one…
His blood turned to ice. It couldn’t be. How would that even be possible? They had done nothing—nothing—to regain Gaia’s favor. She had abandoned daemons centuries ago, and they’d never once sought her forgiveness. Why would she…be restored to them?
Closing his eyes once more, he sought that connection to his Master, and there it was—there she was.
This sense of…contentment, and peace. Balance.
Everything the witches stood for, everything the witches forced onto them, onto the world.
Everything they leveraged to maintain power and control over mortals—it was now here. Inside him.
The thought disgusted him.
Closing off his connection to Iblis, he threw the rune stones down and grabbed his darkrock lantern from the decorative oak table next to his bed. Fumbling around in the drawer, he pulled out his flint and striker, and lit the lantern, instantly bathing himself in its deep-blue flame.
Storming shirtless and shoeless from his chambers, he moved down the dark passageways of the Underworld toward the Great Antre.
An imperi walking the opposite way froze when he saw him. “M-my king, I was just coming to prepare your breakfast. Do you require something?”
Cole loathed it when they spoke to him. They knew he wanted them to be silent in his presence—their words not fit for Iblis’s ears or his own—so why did they constantly push him?
Of course, he hadn’t specifically asked this one not to speak to him, so punishing him would be frowned upon. But no matter. He would find an excuse to later.
“Fetch my brother and the other upper-level daemons for a Convening. Now!” he declared.
The imperi turned around and scurried down the hall towards Zak’s quarters, but Cole stopped him as he called after him.
“Steig too,” he added. He needed to know what his little tool knew about all this…because deep down, Cole was sure of it.
This was no coincidence. Just weeks after he discovered his nephew was plotting something with his witch-slave, this happens?
No, he was no fool. He knew without a doubt Ty had something to do with this—the boy had always been tainted by witches in the most despicable ways.
There was no doubt in his mind that he was responsible for this. And he would fix it, and then, as Iblis was his witness, he’d remove his heir from the line of succession—one way or another.
Rushing through the passageways, he arrived in the Great Antre and took his place on his throne at the head of the Convening table, a plan already forming.
He’d go after him. He’d been lenient when Ty fled, choosing to bide his time until the boy made his whereabouts known again. Without him in the Underworld, the threat was all but gone—or so he’d thought.
But his nephew was more of a threat than Cole had ever realized, and he would find a way to end him at all costs.
In record time, the other upper-level daemons who served him began to arrive.
Zak arrived first, his dark-blond hair ruffled from sleep. Cole would have to talk to him later about the disrespect of his disheveled appearance. Then Gunnar and Chans, his most loyal, obedient hellhounds, and the elders. They all whispered and chattered amongst themselves, and Cole let them.
He didn’t need to take part in their tiny, tittering conversations—moving around like scared little mice. When he was ready, he would speak, and they would listen.
Last to arrive was Steig.
The man walked sullenly into the Great Antre, silent as the grave, as he so often was.
Cole tracked him with his eyes. He knew something about all this. Cole knew he did. Steig and his nephew had always been sickeningly close—their bond weak and demeaning in his eyes, given Steig’s mid-level parentage.
And because Cole was confident that Steig had had prior knowledge of this travesty, there was only one fitting repercussion.
The man would have to prove his loyalty.
Once all his daemons were settled around the table before him, he spoke to them, their eyes rapt like the good little children they were.
“There has been a sickening development,” he began. “Our connection to Iblis has been disrupted.” He looked around the table, assessing each of them for signs of disloyalty. For signs of argument.
There were none.
“I am confident this is a power play by the witches, meant to destabilize my rule, and we will not let this stand.”
There were murmurs of assent and agreement around the table as he looked to his brother on his right.
“Is it true, my king? Is what we sense correct? That…Gaia has returned to us?” Zak asked.
Cole paused, looking around the table at their sad little faces. “Yes. It is true,” he answered simply.
A gasp or two echoed around the chamber.
“How is this possible?” Zak asked, his brow concerned, mirroring the others.
“That is what I intend to find out,” Cole replied, his eyes drifting to Steig. “And why I have invited my son-in-law.”
Everyone’s heads turned to Steig. The man in question returned his gaze, and Cole narrowed in on it, looking for any hint of hesitation—of fear—but Steig gave nothing away.
“How can I assist you in this dark time, my king?” Steig asked, lowering his head in deference.
A show. It was all a fucking show.
“Don’t give me that,” Cole spit. “I know my nephew had something to do with this.” He leaned forward on the table so the man could see him better. “You will tell me what you know, or you will be punished.”
“I know nothing of what you speak, my king. You think Ty had something to do with this?”
“Don’t fucking question me!” Cole yelled, his voice echoing around the cavern. He could feel his blood beginning to boil.
Against him. They were all against him. They were all trying to oust him in Ty’s favor—because Haden always got everything, and now his son would too. Haden always took what was his—even her.
The table fell silent at his outburst, and Cole tried to calm himself. To quiet the raging sense of wrongness inside him that Gaia’s presence had induced.
He was quieter when he spoke next, though he could hear his voice shaking involuntarily.
“You will go after him, boy. You will bring him and his witch-slave to me. And if you refuse, or if you disobey me in any way, you will never see your children or my daughter again,” he threatened, his eyes boring into Steig’s with venom.
“Your newfound upper-level status will not stop me from putting you in the collar you deserve.”
Steig’s eyes burned with a hatred, a fire, that Cole loved to see in him, because he so enjoyed snuffing it out. This piece of trash had never been worthy of his daughter—and Cole would never stop reminding him of that.
“Do I make myself clear?” Cole asked menacingly.
Part of him hoped Steig would try to disobey, if only so he could put him in his place. If only so he could unleash his wrath the way he’d always wanted. But he watched as Steig swallowed whatever he felt, whatever he had to say, before he responded.
“Yes, my king.”
“Good,” Cole said, enunciating the word so they all heard it clearly. “Gunnar and Chans will accompany you, to ensure you keep to your mission. And I know just where you should go first to look for them.”
“Where’s that, my king?” Gunnar asked, seeming pleased at this development. The man was always so thirsty to serve Iblis.
“Where this all started for my nephew—the Auster Coven.”
END OF BOOK TWO