Prologue

He had never intended to return to Hell.

The ice castle sat on an island, protruding from the center of a chasm. A single bridge made of wood and rotted rope swung with a breeze he could not feel. Lazy, fat snowflakes drifted from the sky, but it was not snow but ash.

The Kingdom of Pride and Lies at the center of Hell.

Stolas remembered when Treachery and Pride sat as two separate circles many millennia ago. And though Pride and Lies shared the First Circle, they were together but separate. The Prideful City sat on the border of the First Circle. A haven of mirrors and glass, vanity and austerity. The heart of Hell, Lucifer’s ice castle, sat alone. Neglected.

Picking sides had never gone well for Stolas. It was why he’d been lumped in with the other betrayers during the Great Fall.

They would be wrong if one assumed shared experiences made good allies. Being kicked out of Heaven with the Devil had not made them friends. Stolas had always been subservient to Lucifer, even when they no longer held God’s grace.

But none of that mattered anymore.

The Devil was gone. Presumed dead. Killed by a paramour of his own creation.

Stolas could no longer Lace . He couldn’t move across the world in a single blink or visit the Human Realities on a whim.

He had been cut off from the magic of Hell. The Devil had seen to that.

And now the Devil was dead.

“I thought I would find you here.” An amused voice drifted over his shoulder.

Stolas didn’t need to turn to know who the voice belonged to.

“Murmur.” He whispered. The Truth Demon. Never a lie passed his lips. Murmur had always been an odd fellow, but Stolas respected him for it.

“How long do you intend to stand there?” Murmur cocked his head to the side.

“Until I get my bearings.”

Murmur drew level with Stolas, his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill. “If you intend to ask for a favor of the new King of Pride and Lies, I’d say you’re as foolish as you are desperate.” Murmur squinted, eying the castle across the chasm.

“Why not both?” Stolas said without emotion.

“Abaddon is not one to grant favors.” Murmur reminded him. “He never has been.”

“We need to get our magic back,” Stolas argued.

“Mara provides.”

“The dark goddess is dead,” Stolas whispered. “And we’re running out of time.”

“Demons cannot survive long without the magic of Hell.” Murmur nodded sagely. “Perhaps Lucifer intended to kill us, after all.”

“Perhaps.” Stolas rubbed his hand down his face

Murmur reached into his pocket and produced a single piece of paper. Heavy perfume clung to the note—lychees and candied sweets.

He knew who the note belonged to.

Demons wanted in the Red City — Please see Seventh Circle for details .