Chapter 11

The demon watched me from behind those swirling black holes, her head angled to the side, her blade touching my throat. One sudden move and I knew, without a doubt, she would spill my blood all over Abaddon's throne room floor. All around me, the sounds of struggle were starting to rise.

"It's an ambush!" I heard Missolis yell. "Stand your ground!"

Her voice was met with the clanking of metal boots on solid, stony ground. I heard arrows go whizzing past, I heard grunting, growling, and snarling. Abaddon's demons had known we were coming, we had been caught in an ambush, and now we were trapped in the throne room with no way of alerting the force of rebels only one door down.

"I know your scent, but not your face," said the demon with the knife to my throat. She edged it toward my chin and tipped my head up so she could get a better look. "Why?" she pressed. "And do not lie to me."

"I don't know," I said, slowly raising my arms. "I'm not armed… I'm not going to hurt you."

"No, but I am going to hurt you if you don't answer my question. Right now."

I swallowed, panic rising up and into my throat from somewhere cold and deep inside me. It couldn't be. What were the chances that, here, in the throne room of Abaddon himself, I would run into the one angel that had started this all. She was no longer that angel though, time in this place had warped her, changed her, and stripped her of everything that had once been her.

I swallowed hard. "Gadriel…" I breathed.

The demon's eyes narrowed. "I know that word…" she said. She then pushed in close, her blade slightly biting into the skin of my neck. "Why do Iknow that word?"

"Because it's… your name. Isn't it?"

"My name is Hekata, and I am a Ravager of the Red Wastes," she snarled, suddenly swooping toward my face. "You would do well to remember that."

"Maybe," I said, treading carefully with my words. "Maybe now… but once, you were Gadriel. And I am Sarakiel. We knew each other."

Her black, lidless eyes narrowed—if such a thing was even possible. "You speak the names of dead things."

"No, not dead. I'm not dead, and neither are you. I'm Sarakiel, and you're Gadriel. I was with you when Medrion?—"

She suddenly grabbed the back of my head with one hand and pulled it back so she had a clear shot at my throat with her knife. "Don't say that name!" she snarled at me. "Don't you dare use that name here."

"So, you do remember. You remember him, and if you remember him, then you remember me."

"You are not her because she cannot be here."

"She is. I'm here, Gadriel. I… followed you."

She had warned me not to lie to her, and I had in fact just lied to her. This demon had a knife to my throat, and she was moments from using it. Worse, Malachi was bleeding out, and Missolis and the others were still dealing with the ambush. I had to help them somehow, but this felt… bigger.

It was Gadriel.

It had to be.

Why else would she recognize me? It had to be her, and if it was her, then I had a chance to get us out of this, if only I could make her remember. If only I could somehow bring her to my side.

The only other alternative was my Light. I could flash what was left of it and send the demons shrieking and running in all directions. Only I would also burn Malachi, Missolis and the others—and once it was spent, I wouldn't be able to use it to open the portal back to Earth.

Hekata, as she'd called herself, took another deep whiff of my hair and then brushed her hand along the side of my face. Her touch was cold, ice cold, but something warm passed through her fingers and into my face. I felt tingles, pinpricks that raced across my cheek, my jaw, my chin. The demon pulled back and let go of my head, turning me to face her while keeping the knife angled toward my throat.

The tingles and prickles racing through my cheek quickly moved down my neck, chest, and arms. Looking at my hands I saw the disguise Malachi had laid on me begin to unravel, returning my form to its original, angelic, state.

Hekata watched, wide-eyed, as the rest of the glamor fell away. "It is you…" she breathed. "How… how are you here?!"

I dared to reach for her hand, hoping she wouldn't skewer me with her knife as I did. "Gadriel, listen to me," I said. "I want to explain, but the demons I came with—they need our help. Please, help us."

"Help you? I am here to stop you."

"No, please, I know, but if you help us we can get out—and you can come with us."

"There is no getting out," she snapped. "I have orders, and I am going to carry them out."

"Wait, wait! There is a way out! I can open the portal."

"You can't."

"I can. I still have Light in me—I can open Abaddon's portal and get us all out of here! That's why I'm here."

"You can't," she repeated. "There is no portal."

"There… what?"

"Abaddon had the portal sealed. There's no way out."

I'd heard the words, but it took a long moment to understand them. I felt like my head had been plunged into deep, freezing water and all sound around me muffled. I could only hear my heartbeat, pounding away inside my skull.

The portal had been sealed.

Of course.

I had led them all to their deaths.

A sickening crunch brought me back to the throne room. Gadriel heard it too and turned her head to look. Missolis had knocked down one of the attacking demons and run her sword through his chest, he grunted as the blade pierced his body, then gargled on his own blood. Missolis roared at him, twisting the blade in his chest and yelling at Etari and Kainon to fight on—oblivious to how hopeless the situation was. Oblivious to the conversation I was having with this demon, and the gravity of it.

And then, stars. An explosion of small lights suddenly burst in front of my eyes. Before I knew it, the world tipped over and I fell to the floor, the back of my head pounding with the hit it had just received. I wasn't even able to stick my hands out to protect myself as I went down.

There was a ringing in my ears.

My vision was blurry.

I could see Missolis—at least, I thought it was her—I wanted to shout at her, to call for help, but I couldn't make the words. I saw other demons come rushing in from the temple room, but I couldn't tell if they were friend or foe until one pulled out a sword and pointed it toward the rebels.

I had severely overestimated my impact on Gadriel. I thought that seeing me, the real me, would somehow bring back the angel in her, remind her of who she was before she was Hekata, but I'd been foolish. I shouldn't have turned my back on her.

The demons swarmed Missolis and the others, disarming them and tying their hands behind their backs. At sword point they marched the rebels past me and into the temple room. A moment later, Gadriel—or rather Hekata—bound my hands and pulled me off the ground. By the time I'd recovered my senses, I was being pushed through the door into the temple room; just in time to watch the pilgrims we'd followed in disrobe and reveal the armor they had been wearing underneath.

All this time, the pilgrims had been soldiers. Abaddon's soldiers.

How had they known?

Two more demons carried Malachi into the temple room, his head lolled back and the arrow he had been shot with still stuck out from his chest. They brushed angrily past me to get him into the center of the room and tossed him into the throng of rebels who fell over themselves trying to catch him. This earned them raucous, roaring laughter from the demons who had just captured them.

Including Gadriel.

"Don't do this," I said to her, though I was sure I was slurring my words.

"Don't do what, angel?" she asked. "Dutifully serve our Overlord?"

"This isn't you. The Gadriel I know would never do anything like this."

"My name is not Gadriel. The angel you knew was left at the bottom of the Pit. Move."

"Where are you taking us?"

"You'll see. Now move!"

Gadriel shoved me and made me walk. I was joined by Missolis, Etari, and Kainon who were all also being marched ahead of the rest of the rebels through the temple room. Abaddon's demons laughed as we filed out, pointing at us, jeering at us. I felt entirely helpless, even if my hands weren't tied up, there was nothing I could have done; no amount of Light would serve me against so many foes, and even if I could escape, that would mean leaving the others behind, and where even would I go?

My only hope of getting out of Hell was sealed shut.

The demons lead us all out of the temple room, through a corridor, and then out into the giant courtyard we had passed on the way in. The courtyard that had been full of hundreds of training soldiers, but they weren't training anymore.

Instead, they stood quietly, waiting, arranged in their battalions. As I looked around, I noted hundreds more of them arranged on balconies overlooking the courtyard. All waiting and watching as we were brought in and lined up in front of a wide, raised dais at the far end.

The silence was unnerving—the laughter in the temple room had been obnoxious and humiliating, but it was preferable to the thick tension in the courtyard air. It seemed like they were waiting for us, as if a show was about to begin and we were to be the guests of honor. I looked toward Gadriel for any sort of reassurance her expression might give me and found myself staring at her familiar smirk—only this time it wasn't lighthearted, there was no knowing smile behind it, just malice.

My heart sank even further.

As soon as they had us all in position, a loud cheer broke out behind us. We were suddenly pushed to our knees and our faces forced into the dirt below. I just managed to turn my head enough to get a look at the demon who had stepped out onto the platform above us.

He was enormous.

He had skin the texture and color of burnt coal—soot black, but gray and flaking off in places. An inner fire glowed through the many cracks in his skin and caused more pieces to burn and flutter off. That same fire could be seen through his hollow eye holes, and around them was the worst of the damage—entire chunks of his cheeks fell away as he moved, only to instantly refill and begin smoldering once more. From his forehead sprung two, gigantic, heavy-looking bull's horns, with two smaller horns sprouting just beneath them, a pair of wings easily fifteen feet wide opened behind him, and his prehensile tail lashed violently at the floor.

When he spoke, it was with the booming bass of an erupting volcano or the shaking of the Earth itself. And when he spoke, everyone shut up and listened.

It was clear who this demon was.

A towering Overlord who lived up to his reputation.

Abaddon. The first.

"Welcome, rebels," he roared. "Welcome. How are you enjoying our hospitality so far?"

This earned a round of laughter from the demons assembled. Abaddon raised his hand, and the laughter ceased in an instant.

"Time is short, so I shall make this brief," he continued. "There will be no flaying today, no murder, no torture. I know this may disappoint most of you, but there is a reason we are all assembled here; all of us, loyalist and traitor alike, brought together under one roof—so to speak."

Abaddon scanned the crowd. I could've sworn his eyes fixed on me. "My glorious subjects, we are about to bear witness to the greatest thing to ever happen to the Kingdom of Hell. Lucky are we who have made it this far, so as to experience the magnificent return of the brightest star in the night sky; a sky that was taken from us so long ago."

As he spoke, a small pinprick of Light had begun to form behind him. It slowly got bigger and bigger until the circle could be seen from all corners of the courtyard. The demons closest to the dais shielded their eyes, and even Abaddon himself had to move to the side as it grew.

"Today we witness Lucifer's return to Hell!"