I pushed open the door and made my way toward the dais. Lucifer occupied his two-themed throne with quiet authority. His hands casually rested on carvings symbolizing joy and agony.
“Bloodhound.” Lucifer nodded.
His nickname for me eased the tension in my jaw. My cold shower wasn’t a result of something I did. Someone—or something—else must’ve pissed him off.
“My liege.” I nodded back, positioning myself at his side.
A couple of my Dreads brought in the Damned Soul. He limped in calmly, sandwiched between the uniformed warriors as if it were just any other day. Some of his skin wept with dark, bloody fluids, flowing from one burn to the next. He no longer had hair, and a grotesque, demented smile stretched unnaturally acrossthe two pieces of dried-out flesh that made up his lips—wounds reminiscent of Hellfire from the Immolation Circle.
My attention lingered on his gums and the veins creeping through the exposed muscles in his arms and neck. They wereblack. Souls may not bleed, but their flesh remained red beneath their skin. Something was wrong with this soul.
I gave my warriors a sharp nod. They shoved the male to his knees at the foot of the dais. Immediately, the temperature dropped, and Lucifer rose from his chair.
“State your name,” he commanded, his voice carrying an edge.
The Damned Soul laughed. “You don’t remember me, Lucifer?”
The pressure in the room shifted. My ears popped as frost quickly coated the entire hall, and ice shards shot from the ground, encircling the soul. My uniform warmed against the deadly temperatures, holding my body heat in check.
“I am yourking. I control your miserable existence. Name, now.”
The soul’s eyes glinted with madness. “You don’t remember me confessing to the women I raped and killed? Or asking if there’d be more to play with in your circles,Lucifer?” He laughed again, the cackling echoing through the hall.
Lucifer’s temper snapped. He sent a spear of ice through the soul’s stomach, stopping his laughter mid-sound.
“How did you get into the Redemption Circle, Silas?” Lucifer demanded.
Silas smiled. What looked like black tar dripped from his mouth. “Wouldn’t you like to know? But I’m not going to tell you,” he sang, rocking back and forth on his knees.
“Bloodhound,” Lucifer barked.
I extended my shadows, absorbing the Damned Soul’s blood and bringing it to my mouth. Tar and ash stuck to my tongue. I forced back a gag and dove into his mind, finding it just as repulsive. Most of his memories were fragmented and disjointed—all but the ones about rape and his deserved suffering in the Immolation Circle. I dove deeper, prodding his neurons, only to find the echoes of madness.
“The King of Hell is on his throne, on his throne, on his throne. The King of Hell is on his throne, but not for long,” the Damned Soul sang with unsettling clarity.
But the thoughts of the song didn’t appear in his mind—as if they weren’t there at all.
“His crown will fall, his kingdom will burn, kingdom will burn, kingdom will burn. His crown will fall, his kingdom will burn, and the sinners will sing. We’ll tear the gates, break the chains, and rise again.”
The words felt strange coming from a mind as broken as his.
It was as though someone else spoke through him.
“Xavier,” I snapped. “Search him for runes.”
Xavier stepped forward, moving through the ice shard circle, and ripped at the soul’s tattered clothes. The soul didn’t pause for a moment, continuing to sing the same eerie melody.
“What do you suspect, General?” Lucifer asked.
“An Imperium Voxus Rune. His mind is shattered, yet he speaks with clarity. Someone else is controlling his voice, overriding his broken thoughts.”
Xavier paused, his fingers stopping near the soul’s back. “General.” He waved me over.
Lucifer and I stepped down from the dais and entered the circle. The soul didn’t even flinch, unmoved by the danger he faced. Xavier pointed at a darkened spot carved into the soul’s muscle.
Two runes.
One was the Imperium Voxus, and the other?—
