Page 11

Chapter Eleven

LILY

Fellmoor wasn’t a city—it was a carcass slowly rotting in the heat. The town’s buildings were warped and cracked from centuries of use and lack of care. Open pits dotted the ground between the structures, belching clouds of sulphur and heat. Chains hung from iron posts, swaying in the hot wind like dead things.

And the hellspawn? They fit right in.

Brimlords prowled through the outpost like they owned the place, their hulking forms towering above the others. They were Ezrion’s war machines, forged from hellfire and molten rock, and nearly impossible to kill. They stood over seven feet tall, with clawed hands and feet perfectly designed to shred their enemies to ribbons.

Among them, netherons haggled at the stalls, their deep crimson skin practically glowing. They breathed carnage, and since they were by-products of Gremory’s essence, that fit. Lucifer had designed them as soldiers—much like the brimlords—precise and unrelenting.

At the farthest edge of the outpost, a handful of sanguinari—aka vampires—stood apart from the rest, their pale skin ghostly white in Hell’s firelight. If I had to bet, they could smell mine and Eliza’s blood from here. They wouldn’t attack now, not while we stood out in the open, but the second we showed weakness, they’d be on us like wolves.

Thankfully, I didn’t see any plaguebearers here. If there was one breed of hellspawn I hated, it was those festering sacks of disease. Their claws dripped with sickness, their presence enough to make any sane creature keep a wide berth. Even hellspawn knew not to tangle with Miriel’s creations unless they were willing to gamble with their health.

I spotted venerath and vexori in the central market—Raelia’s and Gavrel’s handiwork respectively. Both reveled in corruption and chaos and were unpredictable at best. I also saw a few ravagers—massive quadrupedal hellspawn, from Tavira’s line, with rippling coiled muscle and thick, gnarled horns.

All in all, a decent showing of hellspawn. Most paid us no mind, too caught up in their own grim routines, but a few weren’t so indifferent. Their eyes tracked us as we moved through town, suspicion lurking in their eyes, as though debating whether they should rip us apart.

That was fine. I’d give them the fight they were looking for. I just needed to find the biggest, meanest bastard around. A brimlord, certainly. Take one of them down, and all the others would fall in line.

Rathiel had managed to scrounge up more appropriate gear for us—leather-armored tunics and cloaks stitched from skinned hellbeasts, the material rough and dark. Our disguises helped some, but not enough. Even with our hoods drawn low, we stood out. Most hellspawn didn’t hide beneath cloaks. It was only a matter of time before one of the bolder ones stepped forward and demanded we stop skulking.

“This place is charming,” Eliza muttered, eyeing the craggy structures and narrow alleys with thinly veiled disgust. “Really gives off a warm and fuzzy feeling. And you weren’t kidding about the hellspawn. They are ugly .”

I refrained from laughing, knowing the sound would attract unwanted attention.

Vol rode in the hood of her cloak, his hands wrapped around her hair for balance. We’d decided it’d be best for him to remain with her, so I could handle Purrgy, whose carrier now hung from my shoulder. We’d left our packs outside the outpost, so we weren’t carrying as much, but I’d refused to leave Purrgy behind—not with a hellcat so close by.

Rathiel walked beside me, also donning a hooded cloak. He scanned the crowd, cataloging every threat with his signature calm intensity. “Keep moving.”

I kept my voice low. “Stick to the plan.”

Eliza snickered. “As a merc, I’m often looking for a fight, but I can honestly say I’ve never just strolled into a town looking to beat someone up just to make friends. What an ass-backward concept.”

I smiled at her comment, then pointed toward the center of the outpost. “Over there.”

We navigated through the crowd, carefully picking our way between the open pits and snarling hellspawn bartering at makeshift stalls. Weapons, bone charms, glowing crystals—it was all for sale, though the vendors didn’t look particularly eager to haggle. Occasionally, I caught glimpses of strange relics tucked among the usual wares—twisted bits of metal that looked almost celestial in origin, cracked and tarnished by Hell’s touch.

Eliza nudged me, jerking her chin toward a group of hellspawn arguing near a stall piled high with blood-red stones. Their voices were loud, punctuated by low growls and snarls, their conversation steadily heating up.

She raised a questioning brow, and I nodded. Never hurt to catch up on the latest hellspawn gossip.

We inched closer, keeping our heads down and studying the items a few stalls over while purposely eavesdropping.

“—palace is more fortified than ever. Got through the outer gates, but that’s as far as they’d let me.” A vexori jabbed a finger into the chest of the netheron across from him. “I’ve been running supplies there for years, and they’ve never locked it down like this.”

“Security has always been tight,” the netheron argued. “Stop running your mouth before I shut it permanently.”

“I’m telling you!” the vexori snapped, “something’s changed. More patrols, more guards, and they’ve sealed the Grand Hall off. No one gets near it. I heard?—”

The netheron stepped closer, his face only millimeters from the vexori. “I’m sick of you spouting your shit. Shut. Your. Mouth.”

With a snarl, the netheron turned, about to head in our direction when the vexori shouted, “Even if there’s talk that she’s back?”

The whole market froze, including the netheron.

“Oh, so you haven’t heard that part?” the vexori pressed, its elongated claws clicking on the hardened ground as it strode toward the netheron. “Word’s spreading. Some say Lily’s back and Lucifer’s on edge.”

Huh. That was interesting. I’d only returned to Hell about a day ago, and already I was the main topic of discussion? Guess hellspawn really did gossip like highschoolers.

The netheron scoffed but turned and stared at the vexori. “She’s dead. Been dead for ten years. Lucifer hung her corpse up in the Grand Hall for all to see.”

Oof—well, that was a little hard to hear. Clearly, it wasn’t my body strung up in the Grand Hall, but the image the netheron painted unsettled me. My father had issues, that was for sure.

“Then why are they tightening security now?” The vexori tilted his head. “Think about it. If she was actually dead, there’d be nothing to guard against.”

The netheron hesitated. “Even if she did come back, she’d be a fool to set foot in Hell.”

Ah, the perfect opening, if ever I’d heard one.

I met Rathiel’s gaze. He said nothing, but I caught the subtle change in his position, the way his hand inched toward his weapon. He knew exactly what I was about to do. We needed to fight some hellspawn, right? Here was the perfect opportunity. And if word was already spreading about me, then why bother continue hiding?

Eliza, on the other hand, let out a quiet groan. “We’re really doing this?”

I just grinned—honestly, this was the sort of thing I lived for. I’d grown up fighting hellspawn. For me, it was like a really violent hobby.

Without hesitation, I handed Purrgy’s carrier to Eliza, then stepped forward and pushed my hood back. “Well, shit. Guess I’m a fool then.”

Every single hellspawn in the market went dead silent.

The netheron’s head snapped toward me so fast I thought he might give himself whiplash. His slitted golden eyes widened as he took in my face, my stance, the way I stood there with my arms crossed like I hadn’t just dropped the biggest bombshell ever.

The vexori let out a wild, jittery laugh. “Oh, this is good. This is real good.”

Whispers. Gasps. A ripple of movement as hellspawn either backed away or surged forward for a better look.

Some faces twisted in disbelief. Others, those lower in the hierarchy, looked upon me in sheer, unfiltered terror. But most looked hungry. Like they were itching for a fight.

The netheron recovered quickly. His lips curled back, exposing razor-sharp teeth, his golden eyes narrowed into slits of pure malice. He took a step toward me, broad shoulders rolling, claws twitching at his sides.

“Well, well.” His voice was a low rasp, thick with venom. “Guess some rumors are true after all.”

I tilted my head. “Which ones? The ones that say I’m dead, or the ones that say I’m an idiot for coming back?”

The netheron let out a low, guttural chuckle. “Both.”

One of the sanguinari at the farthest edge of the market licked her lips, watching me with a hunger gleam in her eyes. “I wonder what she bleeds like,” she mused aloud. “Celestial? Or infernal?”

“I’d be happy to show you,” I said flatly. “Come closer and find out.”

The netheron’s grin widened. “Look at you, all bold. Think you can walk in here and demand respect?” He spat onto the ground, embers hissing against the stone. “You’re nothing but a ghost, a relic from a failed war. And we don’t respect the dead.”

Oh, I liked him, and this was going to be so much fun. He was just cocky enough to not realize he was about to get his ass handed to him.

I drew both swords—Inferno’s Kiss in my right hand and Shadow’s Embrace in my left—and spun them once in tandem, adjusting my grip.

Then I summoned my power.

Hellfire erupted within my palms, flames licking up my arms, crackling like an inferno desperate to be set loose. Shadows slithered at my feet, stretching outward, feeding off the power thrumming through me. My magic came fast and furious, not just waking but raging, spilling through me in a way I’d never felt before. Bigger. Stronger. Like I wasn’t just drawing from myself, but something deeper and vast. Something that wanted me to burn the whole realm. Maybe my return to Hell had affected me in more ways than one.

The netheron’s eyes glittered with excitement.

But before I could move , a low growl rumbled through the market, and a deep voice said, “Enough.”

The netheron barely had time to react before a massive hand clamped onto his shoulder and threw him aside like he weighed nothing.

He crashed into a nearby stall, sending crates and weapons spilling across the ground.

The netheron snarled and scrambled up, but the moment he saw who had thrown him, his anger faltered.

A brimlord stepped forward, his looming figure blotting out some of the light.

His body radiated heat, his molten veins pulsing with Ezrion’s fire. He was bigger than any of the other brimlords I’d seen, standing close to eleven feet tall. His obsidian horns curved back over his skull, and his black lips peeled back to expose a mouth full of teeth sharp enough to shame a vampire.

Oh, hell yes.

This was exactly what I’d hoped for.

“This fight is mine,” the brimlord rumbled. “Let’s see if you’re worthy of calling yourself Lucifer’s daughter.”

I mean, I tried very hard not to call myself that, but I didn’t mention it, since these hellspawn followed and respected my father. We wanted them to respect me. To consider siding with me. To believe I was someone worth fighting for.

If this one beat me? That would be it. The rebellion would die before it even began.

Guess I needed to make sure I didn’t lose.

The brimlord eyed me, rolling out his shoulders, and I watched the embers along his body pulse hotter.

Rathiel approached my side, but didn’t speak. He merely shot me a glance, his brow raised. I nodded, reassuring him that I had this. I would wipe the floor with this brimlord. Part of me was entirely too excited.

I spun Inferno’s Kiss once more, then twirled Shadow’s Embrace in a tight arc, both blades catching the hellfire’s glow. Flames sparked down one, while shadows coiled around the other. The sight drew the attention of all the surrounding hellspawn, their eyes flicking to my blade with a newfound wariness.

Grinning, I faced the brimlord. “All right, big guy. Let’s dance.”

He lunged for me, his meaty hands swiping at my throat.

I ducked, then slashed upward with Inferno’s Kiss. At the same time, I swept Shadow’s Embrace across his thigh, the curved blade biting deep into his flesh and drinking in the shadows it carved through. The brimlord barely had time to snarl before Inferno’s Kiss cut deep across his chest, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He stared down, then lifted his head and raised his brow. While holding my gaze, he batted the flames away.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I repositioned myself.

He struck, and I blocked it, sparks flying as his claws scraped against Inferno’s Kiss. I countered with a slice from Shadow’s Embrace, aiming low and scoring a hit along his ribs. He lunged again, faster this time, but I was ready. I twisted out of his way, hooking his leg with mine and slamming him to the ground. His head cracked against it with a sickening thud. Not that it affected him any—brimlords had solid skulls, after all.

He uttered a low, angry growl before he dug his claws into the ground and shoved himself back to his feet like I’d done nothing more than inconvenience him.

“Not bad,” he rumbled, rolling his shoulders. The embers in his fissures flared hotter, sending waves of heat rippling through the air. I had to be careful here. Brimlords were fireproof. Alas, I was not. “But not good enough.”

He struck with the force of a falling meteor, his fist slamming into my ribs.

White-hot pain exploded through my side, the impact sending me skidding backward across the stone. I barely kept my footing, boots scraping against the ground as I wrenched myself to a stop.

Oh, shit. That hurt.

But I laughed as I danced backward, guarding my side. I made a mental note to dodge better, then sliced Inferno’s Kiss through the air. As he dodged left, I brought Shadow’s Embrace up from below, catching his upper arm and slashing a diagonal line that oozed glowing blood. I didn’t give the brimlord a chance to adjust, and instead, struck out with my foot, clocking the spawn in the jaw.

With an enraged snarl, the brimlord stumbled back, fury burning in his dark eyes. Without warning, he lunged, his thick arms grabbing at me. I twisted just in time to avoid a second crushing blow and ducked beneath his arms, my blades carving dual arcs as I slashed across his exposed ribs—hellfire and shadow dancing in tandem.

Flames spilled from the wound, flames I called to my hand, then threw back in his face. It didn’t burn, but it distracted him enough that I could duck behind him and deliver a mighty kick to his left knee.

He dropped, bracing himself. But he recuperated faster than I expected. With a roar, he pushed back to his feet, then whirled, backhanding me with the full force of his molten fist.

I flew—and not in a good way.

Damn it.

The world spun violently, then came to a sudden stop when I crashed into a stall. Pain ricocheted through my body. I blinked away my double vision to find Rathiel standing behind Eliza and staring at me with part disappointment, part concern in his eyes. He met my gaze and shook his head, then gestured for me to get my ass back into the fight.

I picked myself back up and faced the brimlord, who stalked toward me with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You hit like my father,” I muttered.

“Flattery won’t save you,” he grumbled.

“Who said I was flattering you?” I bantered.

The brimlord let out a snarl and charged, but this time, I was ready.

I surged forward, dodging low, spinning around him, and drove Inferno’s Kiss straight through his back. At the same time, I raked Shadow’s Embrace down his spine, the tenebrous metal slicing deeper through already-weakened flesh.

The blade pierced through the molten crevices in his skin, sinking deep.

He roared.

The sound rattled my bones, but I held firm, twisting the blade, forcing fire to ignite from within.

The brimlord whipped around, grabbing me by the arm, and with frightening ease, he hurled me over his shoulder.

I slammed into the ground hard, air ripping from my lungs.

His foot came down.

I rolled—just barely—before it crushed my ribcage, but his heel still caught my shoulder, driving pain through the joint.

I hissed, pushing to my feet. All right. No more playing around.

I met his gaze and smirked.

Time to finish this.

His molten chest heaved with exertion, but he didn’t back down.

Neither did I.

He lunged.

I ducked under his swing, dodging at the last second, and with every ounce of strength I had, I drove Inferno’s Kiss into his side—right between his ribs, where the flames burned brightest. Then I twisted Shadow’s Embrace upward in the opposite direction, deepening the wound from both sides.

The blade sank deep, but I knew my flames wouldn’t harm him. I had an idea, though. One I’d never tried before. If this worked…well, it’d be freaking cool.

I gritted my teeth and reached out with my magic, connecting with the fire that flowed through his veins. Except, my goal wasn’t to ignite but to drain.

A low, crackling sound rumbled through the brimlord, and his entire body began to sputter, like a suppressed flame. His veins flared with light and heat—then flickered.

I pulled harder, and from the wound where Inferno’s Kiss still pierced his side, a stream of fire bled from his core, drawn to me like smoke funneling through a draft.

The brimlord’s heat rushed toward me, tendrils of his searing hellfire unraveling from his body and racing to my outstretched hand.

His heat flooded my veins and filled me with power.

The brimlord jerked, his claws spasming. His once-massive form seemed to shrink, as if hollowing out from within. I was ripping away his very essence and siphoning it into me.

His eyes widened and he rasped, “What?”

I clenched my fingers, tightening my hold. More fire spilled from him, draining faster now, the glow fading from his body as the cracks along his molten skin cooled and hardened, turning to blackened rock.

He staggered. Fell to one knee.

I took one final pull.

With a shuddering gasp, the last embers of his fire left him—a final, thin strand of flame curling into my palm before vanishing.

The brimlord’s body froze. Then, with a final breath, he crumbled.

A hushed gasp rippled through the market.

I lowered my hand, my skin still tingling with lingering heat.

Silence.

A netheron moved first, dropping to one knee. Another knelt soon after. Then another. Until half the market knelt before me.

I touched my swollen bottom lip with my tongue, tasting blood, as my gaze swept over the sea of stunned hellspawn.

“All right then,” I murmured.

Hell would be whispering my name before the day was through. Word would spread, exactly as we’d wanted. But I couldn’t quell the thread of fear plucking at my nerves. A voice in my head screamed, “ Run! ” Go back to Earth where I belonged. This was all too much.

I quieted that voice and instead watched as Eliza came to stand next to me on one side and Rathiel on the other. He gestured toward the hellspawn. Right. I needed to say something.

I clenched my jaw, swallowing the knot of panic rising in my throat. I’d been here before—on the brink, fighting for survival, always one step ahead of being crushed beneath my father’s boot. I’d failed once. What would keep us from failing again?

No. I couldn’t think like that. I just had to be smarter, faster, stronger this time.

It took a few moments, but I managed to quiet the doubt and focus my attention on the hellspawn—all of whom were staring at me like they’d just seen a ghost.

I squared my shoulders, shoving down the gnawing anxiety clawing at my gut. Then I raised my voice, enough for it to carry across the market. “As you can see, I am very much not dead. Nor am I strung up like a trophy in the Grand Hall. I was gone, yes, but I’m back.” My voice grew stronger, harder with each word. “Back to finish what I started. To take my father out.”

Rathiel stood beside me, silent and imposing, his blade held out for all to see. He looked the very definition of a warrior sentry.

“You’ve all lived under my father’s rule long enough to know what that means. Pain. Fear. Power wielded only for his gain. This isn’t what Hell was meant to be. And you are not what your souls should have become. I’m here to restore balance. I know we lost last time, but we won’t lose again. And if you choose to stand with me, know you’ll have a place in my kingdom.”

More whispers swept through the crowd. Some nodded, others remained frozen, caught in disbelief.

“You have a choice,” I said. “Stay in the shadows and keep kissing my father’s ass. Or stand with me and take back what’s yours. Take back everything he’s stolen.”

I looked at Rathiel, catching a flash of approval in his eyes.

“Spread the word,” I continued. “The rebellion isn’t dead. And now it’s time to take back Hell. Let your friends know. Let your enemies know. Lucifer’s daughter has returned. And this time, my father won’t survive.”

Chatter rose among the group, spreading in low, rippling waves. Some of the hellspawn stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes. The weight of my words hung in the air, heavy and electric, but the longer the silence stretched, the more the energy began to shift.

Rathiel leaned in close, his voice low but urgent. “We’ve pushed our luck enough for one day. Let’s move.”

He was right. If we lingered too long, all it would take was one brave fool—or one loyalist to my father—to turn this into a bloodbath.

After sheathing my swords, I collected Purrgy, then turned on my heel and strode away from the market with Eliza—Vol still tucked in her hood—and Rathiel at my side. The crowd parted reluctantly, whispers following us like shadows. Every instinct screamed at me to flee, but I forced myself to keep an even pace.

Don’t run. Never run.

Vol glanced at me, his eyes barely visible from within the shadows. “Gotta admit, that was fun to watch.”

I rolled my eyes. The imp had no sense of self-preservation.

We strode from the outpost, the noise from the market fading behind us. I didn’t breathe again until we left Fellmoor. And only then did I allow myself to feel the full weight of what I’d just done.

The rebellion had officially begun.