I looked up at the ceiling high above, at the forest of silver chains that dangled above us all. The Chainlings hadn’t disposed of the bodies, necessarily.
They’d hung hooks on the ends of some of the chains. The corpses of Mammon’s Sin Eaters hung from them like slabs of meat, still wearing their dark, oily armor.
“They have such a lovely sense of interior decorating,” I whispered. With Gabriel’s gilded wings gleaming on the wall over my throne and a forest of bodies overhead, my arena was starting to look like quite the abattoir.
“I’m really growing fond of them,” Belial said brightly.
“Good. Let everyone know what happens when they try to break into what’s mine,” I growled. “Is Capheira okay? Where’s Michael?”
“Capheira is perfectly fine.” Belial steered me towards the back of the arena and into the dark halls. “As for Michael… he’s as comfortable as it’s possible to be in his position.”
At the end of the corridor, a pair of Chainlings guarded an innocuously plain door, each holding barb-tipped flails crossed over their chests. They bowed silently and stepped aside for Belial, who unlocked the door with an iron key.
“He’s still sleeping,” he said. I peered around the door frame.
The chamber beyond was lit with several torches, and a single Chainling was stationed inside, watching the archangel like a hawk from beneath their hood.
Michael himself had been arranged on a flat pallet on the floor. His wrists and ankles were chained, but he was still dead asleep, mouth hanging open. A huge violet bruise had spread over his temple.
“They’ll fetch us as soon as he wakes,” Belial said. “I plan to question-”
The sound of familiar voices interrupted him, and I spun on my heel. “They’re back.”
Belial locked the door and the Chainlings resumed their posts before we took off. Tascius’s deep voice echoed through the building, followed by Haru’s acerbic tones.
We found them in the middle of the arena. Tascius’s arms were crossed over his chest, and Azazel’s brow was creased in a frown.
Haru just shook his head and walked away. His clothes were still stained with blood from the fight against the Sin Eaters.
Azazel was the first to spot us coming. “You’re awake,” he said, clearly surprised.
“I can’t lie around right now. What’s the news?” I asked, taking them both by the arm and dragging them into the training rooms in the back.
Plenty of rooms had been marked off to provide care wards for the injured, but I found the room where I’d once displayed Gabriel’s hand and convinced them of my plan. It was empty of everything, which was perfect. The further we were from my bed, the less likely someone would try to convince me to go back to sleep.
Azazel snapped his fingers, conjuring several couches and chairs. I climbed onto a velvet chaise, sitting ramrod straight so my wing wouldn’t brush the back.
“Blackchapel is untouched, of course, but the Brightside of the Seventh Circle is… not in good condition.” A note of apology crept into Azazel’s voice. “Belial, your arena is in ruins. There will be no returning there for the time being. It seems the Brightside took the brunt of the Dragon’s force.”
Belial just nodded, his expression blank. “I’ll have my Overseers look into salvaging what they can. They were under orders to abandon it and take the fight elsewhere if necessary.”
Tascius settled onto a long couch, his eyes on my bound wing. “As for the rest of Dis, the lower Circles had the worst of it, obviously. The First through the Third are largely untouched except for storm damage. We’ve already promised all the aid we can to Adranos; his Circle took the worst of it, and it appears that only half the forces of the Ninth Circle have rallied around their new Prince.”
“But the good remains,” Azazel added. “Satan is gone. The Princes are spreading the word to those who were in hiding; we’re going to need to meet and decide the governing of Dis now that the overlord has been toppled. Several high-ranking demons are already beginning their campaigns to be elected as the Ministers between Circles.”
I listened carefully, taking it all in, but there was one thing on my mind that had refused to leave since I’d woken up.
When there was a break in the reports of destruction and body counts, I couldn’t help but ask.
“Did any of you know about Lucifer’s soul-bond to Satan?”
The room was suddenly silent. Azazel finally exhaled on a sigh. “I had a suspicion. He might’ve been my student, but Lucifer was always close-lipped where his pride was concerned. When I attempted to broach the topic, he would change it. Looking back, I believe he meant to destroy Satan before the soul-bond could be invoked.”
My throat tightened. If Lucifer had just trusted us enough to tell us… maybe it could’ve been avoided. But there was no going back now, only forward. I would find Lucifer and break that bond or die trying. “Is there any way to break it from here?”
Azazel just shook his head slowly. “No, not entirely. If you could cut through the magical ties, you might be able to slow it or reduce its influence… but it won’t be completely broken until the creator of the bond is dead.” He looked at me solemnly.
The only way to help him was to destroy Satan. It was inevitable that I’d have to face him again; we would never live in peace as long as he still lived.
And to think I’d once found Lucifer’s tattoos beautiful. How naïve I’d been.
“Then we need to figure out how to track him down,” I said, swallowing my anger and sadness. “Surely you can, Azazel, especially if he has Satan with him.”
Azazel’s lips tightened. “Once we’ve handled Dis, I will find a way. Satan will actually be the problem in this case. He’s a Prime power- one of the gods himself. His energy will either register on such a large scale that finding his physical body would be like trying to pinpoint a needle in a haystack that covers hundreds of miles, or he’ll draw it in completely and obscure himself.”
I nodded, trying to be understanding even though I was dying to get started right now. “Then as soon as we’ve found all of the injured, we need to bring the Princes together again. I intend to see Dis brought together as quickly as possible. The longer we wait, the worse our odds of rescue.”
Azazel reached out and took my hand. I felt his emotions loud and clear through the bond: he was just as frustrated as I was with having to sit back and wait while our loved ones were out there.
Especially Vyra. We both knew Lucifer could handle himself, but Vyra had only just started learning how to fly days ago.
“Soon,” he said, squeezing my hand. Impatience and anger burned in his violet eyes. God knew how he was feeling with someone as gentle as Vyra trapped with Satan and a Lucifer who couldn’t be trusted.
I thought again on the red lines of Lucifer’s tattoos, burning into his flesh and creeping to cover his entire skin. The longer we took, the more likely Vyra was to be hurt.
And the more likely we’d never have the real Lucifer again.
3
Melisande
I left them there as Azazel began to pen missives to the Princes, sending them out clamped in the beaks of large, shadowy birds he conjured from his palms.