Page 44 of As Above, So Below

Ylara, Vaelyn, and myself.

Magelights bloom as I move further into the room, intricate sconces of gold and crystal illuminating the space, revealing the depth of the disarray. Drawers left open, chairs toppled, shelves cleared.

Abandoned in a hurry under the threat of Netharis.

It’s as hidden as I can hope to achieve within the Tower.

Neglected and forgotten, Netharis isn’t likely to have granted Kassil permission to access the layer that once bustled with dozens of high-ranking Houses of succubi and inccubi. There’s no reason for him to have it.

Especially not after our debacle with Druka.

Netharis let me keep access, not as a kindness.

As a punishment.

He wanted me to see the hollowed layer following her banishment. A reminder that my choices, regardless of how small, reflect upon Netharis’ House, uponhisstatus. My romantic involvement with a succubus caused an uproar among the Layer Lords as I’d already been promised to Kassil.

Letting my leather messenger bag strap slip from my shoulder, it drops to the floor without grace. A plume of dust shoots into the air and I scowl. Tearing the tattered white sheet from the couch, I let it fall to the floor and claim the corner seat, folding my legs under me.

Thankfully, this is notherquarters.

I don’t think I could handle hunkering down in Druka’s room despite the countless hours I’d spent in them centuries ago.

Ylara seats herself on the opposite end of the couch, letting her head fall back against the headrest. She stares at the vaulted ceiling.

“I tried to get more information from Sunshine,” she says with a drawn sigh. “She didn’t give me a location, but she gave me a description of the obsidian jar the nyraphim is being held in.”

Letting my head fall back, I do the same and stare at the ceiling. “Jar? Not box?”

She nods. “Inscribed with both Yggdrasil and Malbolge runes supposedly.”

A talon finds its way to my teeth as I rip through my memories, scouring for any object fitting the description I may have come across.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a thing,” I deign with a huff.

“Neither have I.”

“How can a nyraphim exist within the hells? It shouldn’t bepossible.”

“You know as well as I do the gods bend the primordial order to suit their needs when they deem fit,” Ylara answers, her tone near patronizing.

“Is it all gods, or is it just Netharis?” I muse dryly.

Ylara scoffs a laugh. “Do any of the other gods matter when they have the power to intervene but do not?”

My brows raise with the truth of her pointed question.

“I didn’t know you harbored such anger, Ylara,” I say softly, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.

Ylara turns her head, shifting her piercing stare to me. Pulling my gaze down from the ceiling, I let my head fall to the left to meet it.

“Not anger,” she says, “disgust.”

Fair enough.

She sighs. “Are you going to tell Vaelyn?”

I purse my lips. “He would know where such a jar would be.”