Reaching the end of the hall, we enter yet another tower—one we haven’t ventured through in Illa Ysari. We’re led up a sloping, spiral staircase to the third floor.
The hall curls along with the perimeter wall of the tower, arched windows giving glimpses into the Cerwiden night every few steps. Cenviri approaches the only door posted with shirtless guards—their reddish-clay skin littered with dark Malbolge runes.
The guards curl a fist over their hearts, dipping their chins in greeting. In silence they push the doors open, their muscles flexing with the effort.
“Shadows keep you safe,” they offer in unison, in Malbolge no less, as we pass.
As the door closes behind Eve and Cyran, we’re shut in a room that loosely resembles a library. Shelves filled with books, bones, and glass jars of materials for all nature of bindings—herbs, dried fingers, knotted rolls of black thread, teeth, and vials of blood in red, black, and silver—line three of the walls.
Cenviri turns, a smile on his face.
And I rob him of his chance to speak. “The next time you want to parade me as a trophy to bolster your appearance, I won’t remain silent,” I near hiss the warning in Malbolge.
His smile grows.
“I’ll never be able to lead demons,il-akiv,” he says in common tongue with a shrug. “Because I am not one of them. Desperation has brought them here, and I know better than to turn awaystrength.”
Turning demons away means they appeal to other Houses, those threatening his dominant status. For once I would love for political machinations not to factor into actions.
“The hells,” he says as he ventures across the room toward the scroll and parchment covered table, “has been consumed by chaos, even with Vaelyn in power. The archdemons want to fight Vaelyn, but they fear losing. They openly oppose House deserters, but quietly refuse to send demon hunters.”
He seats himself in the head seat, folding his hands upon the table, and gestures for us to join him with a nod of his head.
His First General—what was the fae’s name?
Zirzol—crosses the room to stand near the wall of gently swaying white curtains. There isn’t much of a breeze, but judging by the song of crickets and the scent of night-blooming jasmine, like the halls, this room features an open veranda beyond.
Taking Cenviri’s invitation, Ryc and I approach the table to claim our seats. Ryc pulls a seat for me, taking the seat closest to Cenviri as Eve takes the seat on my left, and Cyran the foot of the table.
“The state of the hells has never been my concern,” I reply, irritation sharpening my tone as I set the black-bound book before me.
“Nor should it be,” Cenviri says with a nod. “Your place isn’t in the hells. It’s here, in this realm. I promise you.”
“Does it not break primordial law for this number of demons to walk among the living?” Cyran asks.
A valid question.
I would argue yes, it does.
Cenviri laughs, shaking his head. “The primordial laws weren’t outlined by the primordials,” he says. “They never intended for the various species to separate. The laws you refer to are a construct of suppression created by the gods.”
“What?” Eve and I breathe in unison.
The smile on Cenviri’s face grows softer. “Once the gods robbed the living realm of the magic needed to sustain the lives of demons, nyraphim and countless others, they claimed the issue out of their hands.”
So it is like Illa Ysari and Aether then…
“How do you know this?” Eve demands. “You speak like you were around when the primordials were.”
“Perhaps not this iteration of me,” Cenviri replies callously. “But I was. You were as well.” He chuckles as he swings a pointed finger between Ryc and me. “I may not remember those lives, but the dead do, and they tend to speak often.”
I can’t imagine the stories the dead would tell. The things they’ve seen, what they’d know—they’d be a wealth of knowledge. Perhaps the centuries spent in Netharis’ library wouldn’t have felt as lonely or isolated if I could have had conversations with those ancient souls.
“My contract with Netharis prevented me from ascending Cal Anore’s High Throne, and I never understood why, until a few months ago,” Cenviri says, scoffing a laugh. “A seated ruler restores Nether to this land—to this realm, making it possible for demons to walk among the living once again.”
Which means…ourascension will allow for nyraphim to do the same… as Ryc said. I may not have put stock in his words then, but upon seeing who walks the halls of Cal Anore…
“What nyraphim would ever want to leave the heavens?” Eve asks, her brows pinching as she folds her arms on the table, giving Cenviri an inquisitive scowl.
