I threw my hands up in the air. “But we should have, right?” I shouted. “We should haveknown, Rathiel! This is fucking Hell! We know it isn’t safe. We know it’s full of fucking hellspawn and monsters and my fucking father!”
I released a frustrated cry and batted at the stupid tears streaking my cheeks. Great. Now I was crying. And not because I was sad, but because I was so damnmad. Why couldn’t he have just understood that I needed time? Why did he have to push? And why didn’t heunderstandwhat was wrong?
“We never should have left the camp,” I continued, the words spilling from my lips now. “We let our damn emotions distract us. Weleft! And all because we wanted tofuck!”
I clamped my mouth shut after that, regretting my words, but the damage was already done.
Rathiel’s jaw went tight, and he forcibly swallowed. He took a step back, and he averted his gaze. Then he nodded. “You blame me.”
A fissure of my anger cooled. Not enough for me to reach out to him, but enough to soften my tone. “No. I blame me. Only me. I’m the leader of our group. I should have known better than to sneak off for a quick roll in the hay. I traded Sable’s life for blissful, momentary satisfaction.”
Okay, I was being harsh. But that understanding didn’t stop me. I hadn’t wanted to discuss this, but now that we were, the words kept erupting out of me like lava.
Rathiel’s head snapped back to me. “That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” I argued. “But it sure is damn cruel. If we hadn’t left the camp, if we’d been here where we belonged?—”
“Then maybe we’d be dead,” he cut in. “Have you thought about that?”
“No, because all I can think about right now is that I justburied my friend.” I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “She was one of mine, Rathiel. She and Mephisar have been with me from the start. She protected me. She loved me. And I…abandoned her. And she died.”
For ten years, she’d survived Hell without me. But the moment I’d returned—days after we reunited—she was gone. Because of me. Because of my stupid war with my father. If I’d just stayed on Earth… if I hadn’t snuck off with Rathiel… if we’d come back sooner…
Rathiel’s brow softened, and his anger ebbed, but pain flashed in his eyes. “You can’t really believe that.” He reached for my hand, and this time I let him take it. “Lily, you can’t control everything. You aren’t responsible for protecting us. And you didn’tabandonher.”
“It’smyjob to protect everyone here. End of discussion.” I straightened my shoulders and knuckled away my tears. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Calyx and I have a job to do.”
Before Rathiel could utter another word, I turned and strode off. I couldn’t take the look in his eyes. I’d hurt him, and I hadn’t intended for that, but once the words started flowing, I hadn’t been able to rein them in. A part of me wanted to apologize, but the other part actually felt a little better for getting it off my chest. Grief was like that. It made you say, believe, and think things. Some irrational, some brutally honest.
But maybe now he would understand.
I was halfway to Calyx when Eliza stepped into my periphery. “Whoa, Lily, wait. Don’t leave like this.”
I spared her a glance, noting her tight expression. “I have somewhere to be.”
“Hey, come on. Talk to me for a moment.”
“Eliza,” I growled. Why did everyone want to talk? “I’m fine.”
“You’re very clearly not.”
She tugged on my arm, but I shrugged her off.
“Check on Purrgy and Vol. Make sure they’re okay,” I said. Then, before anyone could interrupt me, I launched myself skyward, instantly putting distance between me and the camp. I carved through the smoky, ashy air, the wind screaming past my ears.
For a brief moment, I closed my eyes and let myself revel in the sensation of flying. Then I blinked them open and focused on the horizon. On our mission.
It didn’t take long for Calyx to catch up. Thankfully, the wind was too loud for us to speak over, but he did eye me for a few moments. I ignored his attention and simply kept flying.
Side by side, we sliced through the heated air currents, our wings flapping in tandem. An hour had passed when finally, we crested over a jagged ridge, and Calyx pointed down. My gaze searched the terrain until I spotted a worn-down watchtower. Only then did we descend.
We landed in unison, my steps a bit staggered. Once I had my balance, we silently hurried toward a small pile of boulders sitting atop the cliff and tucked behind them. From there, we peeked over, and I snuck my first look at the outpost.
It was nestled in a rocky valley below, positioned so the natural outcrops provided a stone wall around the perimeter. Massive boulders veined with molten cracks that pulsed with dull red light reinforced the northern gates. Magic or hellfire? I reached out with my senses and felt the hellfire flare in response. Alright, that was good. Hellfire, I could manage. But magic would be trickier.
Inside the camp, fires burned in iron pits throughout, lending the place a hellish aesthetic my father seemed incapable of moving on from. Hellspawn stomped about, most armoured. A few walked the perimeter, while a couple stood stationed atop the watchtower. They hadn’t spotted our approach, so they clearly weren’t good at their jobs. But their incompetence worked to our benefit.
I continued scanning the camp, cataloging everything from their weapons cache to their supply tents. Enough resources to keep us afloat for a long time.
