“Good,” I said, my gaze drifting to the closest soldiers. I watched as they trained and took corrections from Rathgor and Drek’thar.
“So, what’s next?” Eliza asked.
My attention strayed from my army to the dozens of corpses laid out in rows just outside the wall. Someone must have cleared the grounds while I slept. The scent of blood and smoke still hung thick, but at least the outpost no longer looked like a slaughterhouse.
“We—or rather,I—need to resurrect all the dead hellspawn. I’ll add them to the ranks, then we’ll march to my father’s palace where we’ll fight the final battle. Easy peasy.”
“More hellspawn,” Eliza said dryly. “Yay.”
I ignored her and continued laying out my plans. “The palace isn’t far—two days’ march west. Thanks to this outpost, we’ve secured enough supplies to make the trip. All we need to do is win the battle. Once we do, the palace is ours, and I take control of the realm. But we can’t afford to wait. The longer we sit here, the more rations we burn through. So, we move.”
A slow and satisfied smile curled Levi’s lips. “Efficient, Lilith. I like it.”
Eliza pushed up from the rock and brushed the grit off her palms. “Well, silver lining—we’re finally doing something with the bodies before they start to stink worse than Vol’s breath.”
“Rude.” Vol blew a lungful of air into his palms, sniffed, then winced. “But also accurate.”
Chuckling, I stepped forward before anyone could say another word. I drew in a deep breath. And then…let go.
The second I relaxed, my magic sprang to life. No summoning required. No venturing into my forest. No coaxing the power out of me. It poured forth in a glowing light bright enough that I had to squint.
The world around me quieted as the army fell silent, weapons lowered, and every gaze fixed on me. Talk about inducing performance anxiety.
As though it knew my intention, the light pulsed to a hypnotic beat, summoning the misplaced souls to my side. They responded immediately, shimmering in flickers only I could see. The first soul drifted closer, then slipped inside me. It brushed against my essence—soft, cold, weightless—before reappearing and fluttering toward its body. Then came the next. And the next.
Each soul that passed through me took a sliver of my essence, just enough to tether it to its body again. The process was smooth, unnervingly so. No resistance. No pain. Just a steady pull that hollowed me out one breath at a time.
Bodies began reacting even before the last soul returned. Fingers twitched. Chests hitched with breaths. Armour scraped as limbs remembered how to move. Dozens of corpses straightened into themselves, reforming piece by piece.
The only problem was the darkness. Every sliver of essence removed was a sliver the darkness gained. It filled the spaces, curling tighter under my skin, whispering for more. It was so hungry, eager to spread further.
I suddenly understood, with startling clarity, why my father never used his own essence to create hellspawn. I’d first thought it had to do with his selfishness, but I realized it went deeper than that.
If he struggled with the same darkness as me, then he would have figured this out too. He would have realized that every bit of light lost was a chance for the darkness to burrow deeper. Forcing his fallen angels to sacrifice their essences wasn’tonlycruelty, but self-preservation as well.
Even now, the darkness demanded I let it go and allow it to spread like an infection through Hell itself. It clawed at me—hard—and for one terrifying heartbeat, I almost granted it its freedom.
But at the last moment, before I let go, I forced it back.
I clenched my fists to ground myself and mustered every ounce of will I had left. The magic wasn’t in control here—I was.
The darkness shrieked inside me, a silent, writhing protest, but I shoved it down until it begrudgingly sank beneath my skin again. My breath came out in a hard exhale, my body trembling from the effort.
The first of the newly resurrected hellspawn stood—a hulking brimlord, half his armour still scorched from battle. Then another rose beside him. And another. Until finally not a single corpse remained.
I sent my gaze sweeping over myentirearmy—new hellspawn and all. Every single soldier stood at attention and stared at me. Good. That was exactly what I needed right now.
“If you stand with me,” I called, voice carrying across the field. “If you fight for this army and for every single soul standing next to you, then Iwilldeliver to you your redemption—your freedom. But understand this….”
My power instantly responded to my threat, and, without my permission, shadows spread out beneath my feet, coiling aroundmy boots and stretching toward my army. The nearest hellspawn—one of the newly resurrected—instinctively stepped back, his blood-red eyes darting to those closest to him.
“If you standagainstme,” I continued, “if you eventhinkabout turning your blade on one of mine, I’ll rip your soul out through your ribs and feed it back to the pit until even Hell forgets your name.”
No one spoke.
“I donottolerate betrayal. If you are loyal to Lucifer, then speak now. I won’t let you return to his ranks, but I will give you a quick and painless end. Or stay and serve me. It’s your choice.”
For a long, pulsing moment, no one moved. Somewhere in the ranks, a single newly risen hellspawn slammed his fist to his chest in salute. Another followed. Then another. Within seconds, the sound of armour striking armour rolled through the field like thunder.
