Prologue

That didn't last long.

Moloch's freedom, after so many centuries of imprisonment, proved short-lived. He'd gone from plotting to take over Earth to being dumped in Inferis, and it didn't please him one bit. Damn the messovenata for tricking him. He'd thought she'd be easy to beat. After all, she barely knew how to use her magic. Not to mention, no human-made weapons could kill him. Harm, yes, but none were deadly enough to truly end his life. Yet, despite that, the messovenata proved herself cleverer than expected. She'd dragged him into a portal and somehow thrust him into the one place he didn't want to be.

Not for long.

Once he escaped back to her world, she'd pay for what she'd done. Upon his return, he wouldn't waste time taunting and forget breeding with her. When next he saw her face, he'd kill her.

First, though, he needed to find a wild doorway to Earth. Not an easy thing to do given the places where the dimensions abutted tended to move without notice. However, he knew the signs to look for: the way the air sizzled with anticipation, shadows behaved oddly, and reality itself would bend and warp. He just hoped it wouldn't take long to find a spot to cross back over.

There'd been a reason he'd avoided coming home after his release from prison. The princes, born of his loins but with no love or loyalty for their father, had betrayed him. Rather than make any kind of attempt to rescue him, they'd split up his kingdom amongst themselves and done their best to keep him locked away.

Moloch had almost despaired of ever escaping until a minion loyal to him found out about Sadie's existence—the messovenata. It hadn't been easy for Moloch to keep her hidden. It involved commanding a pair of humans from afar, making promises he never intended to keep, and for them to follow his directions. At his command, they'd kidnapped the messovenata at birth. Groomed her to be weak. Kept her powerless by feeding her magic nullifying drugs. Even with all that manipulation, his plan almost failed. Sadie had begun to awaken, her innate abilities pushing against the restrictions placed on them.

But in the end, Moloch prevailed. When the planets aligned to give him his best chance, her blood released him. He'd been set to regain his former glory. By subjugating Earth, he'd planned to lure those who'd defected in Inferis back to his rule.

A glorious plan that failed.

Now, instead, he'd be mocked. Fooled by a slip of a human, one who didn't even fully grasp the extent of her magic. He wouldn't underestimate her again.

The barren landscape radiated heat from a trio of suns that never fully set. No matter the time of day, one or more always shone. They baked the ground to a hard clay. Sucked all the moisture from skin. Very little grew on the surface, which meant there was no cover for a trudging, disgraced demon king.

Flying specks in the sky caught his attention. Nothing around him provided a place to hide and, no surprise, those aerial beasts banked in his direction.

He cursed. What were the chances their riders were still loyal to the true king?

None, as it turned out. The trio of winged roc swooped low enough he could see the demons holding the reins, their armor matte black with gold insignia, indicating they were the king's soldiers. A color they shouldn't have been wearing, seeing as how he was the king, and he didn't command them.

As the rocs neared, Moloch paused and held his head high. In a voice that carried, he boomed, "My loyal soldiers, thank you for the welcome."

Moloch's attempt to sway them failed. They didn't even reply, simply dropped a net, which he tried to avoid. However, the riders knew how to hunt, and used magic to twist the wind so the net draped over him. The chalum in the strands—a metallic ore that had the ability to nullify his power—burned his flesh. When the riders alit, he did his best to stand straight under the burning weight and barked, "You dare to accost your king?"

The leader of the aerial squad swaggered close and pulled off his helm to reveal one eye sealed shut and scars that crisscrossed his visage. Moloch didn't recognize him. Those who would have remembered him would be long dead. Only the very gifted lived long.

"King?" sneered the roc rider. "We have no King."

"You do now, impertinent imp," Moloch barked. "I have returned and woe to those who stand in my way."

The roc rider scoffed. "Why would we follow a weak king when we have a mighty emperor?"

The title proved to be a reminder of the gossip Moloch had gleaned from the demons who'd chosen to remain loyal. One of his upstart sons, the youngest of his princes, had chosen for himself a lofty title.

"He is no emperor," Moloch snarled. "As your true Dark Lord, I command thee to release me at once."

"Command me?" The soldier guffawed as did his companions. "As if we'd obey a criminal."

"And what exactly is my supposed crime?"

"Conspiring against the empire. Stealing soldiers from the legions."

"They defected to me because they knew I was their true lord!" Moloch growled.

"Not anymore you aren't. By decree of the emperor, you are a traitor and as such are to be arrested on sight." The roc rider turned to his companions. "Let's bring him to the capital."

In short order, a pair of rocs had hold of the net and ignobly carried Moloch over the wasteland of his home. Moloch didn't abase himself by begging or pleading, nor did he bother trying to escape. The net, made to hold demons and nullify magic, left him powerless. Best he wait until an opportunity presented itself. Besides, his feet could use a rest.

It didn't take too long to reach the capital, which had grown since his departure. It sprawled at the base of a mountain, thriving despite being absent of a king.

A king who received no accolades or respect.

Moloch's return to the city he'd left eons ago did not have the victorious flair he'd dreamed of while locked away. While its denizens did pop out for a peek, it wasn't to exclaim in awe, but to point and laugh.

He'd kill them all for the humiliation.

Painfully.

The fortress had also expanded, the mountain that housed it—one of the rare peaks in this world—showed more windows and balconies than before. The outside had been intricately carved and had spots of color where some of the lines had been painted. As they flew closer, he even noted ponds lined with foliage, spouts in the center of them spraying water in the air, a wasteful use of it given how little they had to even grow crops. Not that demons ate foliage. The fodder went to their herds which in turn were slaughtered to feed the populace.

They alighted in a courtyard lined with more soldiers garbed in dark matte armor. The chalum net remained around Moloch as they force-marched him into the palace where he noted more changes. The gloomy atmosphere he'd cultivated, gone. Tapestries with brilliant depictions of battles he didn't recall adorned the walls. Magical bulbs provided light. No cobwebs or dust could be seen anywhere.

Disgusting. How did anyone take his son seriously in such a place? Everyone knew to inject the proper amount of fear and respect, one's surroundings should reflect a vile nature.

The throne room remained in the same location, but was also transformed, the reddish stone whitewashed, the floor polished and gleaming. The throne of bones—featuring the skulls of his enemies—was gone, replaced with something monstrously garish and golden.

Atop the throne, his traitor son, Leviathan. The youngest of his sons, with dark lustrous hair, and a very human mien that could have used some horns.

Time to take control of the situation. Moloch stood tall and adopted a stern mien. "You're sitting in my seat."

His son didn't move but he did smirk. "Yours? This throne is mine."

"Traitor!" Moloch boomed. "You dare to usurp my kingdom?"

"Usurp?" Leviathan arched a brow. "You abandoned Inferis, and chaos descended. Someone had to step in and give the citizens what they needed."

"Hardly abandoned," Moloch snarked. "Tricked by you and imprisoned. Which you well know."

"I do. How embarrassing for you," Leviathan taunted with a shake of his head.

"Ungrateful bastard. I am your father."

His son laughed. "Since when? Was it when you beat me? Neglected me? Had me tossed in the pit to claw my way out?"

"It's called making you strong."

"Oh, it made me strong, alright. Strong enough to decide I wanted to be the one giving orders."

"You aren't fit to lick my hooves," spat Moloch. "Now that I've returned, you will?—"

"You seem to be under the mistaken impression that you give orders around here. You don't, by the way. I am the one in command." Leviathan rose from his throne and slowly descended the steps.

"That's not how things work. The crown is mine until death," Moloch spat.

"Usually, however, there was no protocol to follow for when a king gets himself tossed into another dimension."

"Which you had a hand in! But all can be forgiven if you agree to step down."

"I don't think so. I rather like how things are, but since you insist on reminding me of the laws you set, then so be it. Let us fight to the death." Leviathan waved a hand, and someone handed him a sword.

Moloch's sword to be exact.

"Is there anything of mine you haven't stolen?" Moloch spat.

"Hardly stolen given you left it all behind when you abandoned us. But you are right, the blade was yours, so here you go." He offered it to Moloch, leather-wrapped hilt first. A good thing since the chalum in the blade would nullify his magic.

Moloch wasted no time in snatching the blade and immediately sliced through the net to free himself. Then he pointed the tip at his son. "Fool. You shouldn't have armed me."

Rather than prostate himself or look worried, his son offered a cold smile. "You once said no one could beat you in a fight. Shall we see if that's true?" As Leviathan spoke, he pulled forth a sword from the sheath at his hip. Smaller than Moloch's and yet the sight of it almost brought a shiver.

"Where did you get that?"

Leviathan lifted the blade and eyed it. "I had this weapon forged for my personal use. Do you like it? Like your weapon, it's made entirely of chalum."

"Impossible. There wasn't enough chalum left to forge a blade." Moloch would know as he'd confiscated every known nugget. There'd only ever been enough to make his sword and a few daggers. The dust left over from the rare and precious ore had been woven into the net used to capture him.

"Lucky for me, upon expanding the fortress, I discovered a large chunk of it. Enough to make this beauty." Leviathan waggled it. "Are you ready? I'd like to get this over and done with as I have a dinner engagement I don't plan to miss."

The casual mocking enraged Moloch, especially since he could see the sniggering amongst the courtiers watching. Time to show them who was the true Dark Lord.

The grip on his sword felt familiar and not. It had been a long time since he'd wielded the weapon. However, some skills were never forgotten.

"I agree we should make haste as I am eager to punish those who betrayed me," Moloch stated.

"Look at you, so eager to die." Leviathan once more smiled.

With reason. The young prince he'd last known had grown considerably in skill during Moloch's incarceration.

Moloch's first feint was handily batted aside and led to taunting.

"Where's that renown skill of yours? I expected better." Leviathan danced among Moloch's mighty strikes, somehow never being where he should, his speed enhanced by magic.

Moloch growled as he pushed more of his own power into his strokes. The clashing of blades echoed atop each other in a single note of cacophony as their rapidity blurred the individual clashes.

The first line of ichor appeared on Moloch's arm. It didn't heal. Chalum injuries disabled his magical ability to fix wounds.

The first cut was followed by a stripe across his leg. By the fourth burning streak, the realization hit. Moloch had gravely miscalculated his son's skill. But he couldn't give up. There would be no mercy from the prince he used to beat for his mouthy manner. There could also be no surrender as Moloch would not survive the shame.

There would be no?—

Leviathan watched dispassionately as the seed donor who'd contributed to his birth lost his head. It bounced on the floor until it came to a rest at a courtier's feet.

The emperor of Inferis—a position won by might, and now tradition—casually wiped his blade on the former king's corpse before sheathing it. "Have his body hung from the walls and his head mounted on a spike." Let everyone see, especially the traitors who sought to overthrow his position, who truly was the strongest.

After a meal with his favorite concubine of the day, and his cock eased by her mouth, Leviathan penned a letter to the one who'd made his victory possible.

To the messovenata named Sadie,

Thank you for returning Moloch to Inferis. It might please thee to know he's been executed for treason. Expect soon a token that will serve as a gesture of thanks.

Until we meet,

Leviathan, the Emperor of Inferis

Left unsaid…

Soon to be ruler of Earth.