As we neared the entryway, I heard the sounds—the clatter and shouts, not born of conflict, but labor. Without a word, she threw the door open, and I gasped at what I saw.
I’d helped Apollo with fortifications once before, but nothing of this scale. Dozens, if not hundreds, of demons toiled in tandem. They hauled wooden barricades made of spiked fungus logs, dragging them through the gates of the estate and behind its stone walls.
Fire-maned demon horses pulled carts overflowing with equipment. Hounds congregated in packs, following commands issued by crimson-skinned infernals who threw bits of meat to reward each successful maneuver. There were human-like demons, too; lots of them. Most wore strange cloth garb, some sort of sophisticated body armor, wholly unlike the crude leather and mail Sitri’s soldiers used. Those must have beenHaagenti’s legions, the ones Bronwen said she would request.
“Have you seen war like this before? War, like we’re preparing for?” she asked.
“No… I haven’t. Vapula caught me in one ambush. In life, I saw pictures and heard stories, but I’ve never been part of it.”
The demoness turned to me. “You’re lucky, girl. You won’t stay lucky for long. We aren’t winning a war anytime soon, no matter how this battle goes. Best case scenario, we will loan more time from fate, but we cannot win. Think about what that means.”
And I did.
I thought about what I’d seen at the gorge, the broken bodies, eyes empty, scattered on the ground. The stench of gore and smoke. Howls of pain, fear, and agony as beasts tore and hacked each other apart. Sitri and I, bloodied and despairing, riding back to Lantyca in silence.
I imagined that brutality in the streets; the demons who called Lantyca home forced to take up arms and partake in that violence in the places where they’d built their afterlives. Apollo, Sitri, and even Bronwen, standing armored beside them, and against impossible odds. I looked around, taking it all in.
This was a suicide mission. Every single one of them must know it, but that hadn’t stopped them from participating. Did they have families? Partners? What would happen to them when Vapula’s forces came pouring in, prepared to annihilate Sitri and take me prisoner by any means necessary?
And here I was, worried about the dishes. How small that seemed in comparison.
Bronwen watched my face. It must have been contorting under the weight of my newfound understanding. At last, her own eyes softened, and she clasped a firm hand on my shoulder.
“You get it?” she asked, any edge gone from her voice.
“I do.”
“Good.”
The demoness lifted her head and looked out over the ongoing preparations. I don’t know what I expected from her, but it wasn’t the smile she gave; soft, fragile, hiding a sadness I’d never seen on her before.
“Never forget, this is Hell’s true face—endless war, never-ending strife, the weak scrabbling for a foothold as the strong tear the ground away beneath their feet. You have a few short days until that war comes for you. Are you prepared to confront it?”
I bit my lip, unsure of how to answer that question. I wanted to be ready, but when I recalled the brief violence I’d seen, when I surveyed the demons prepared to surrender their souls in my defense, I felt the truth in my heart.
“No…” I admitted, “I’m not prepared at all, but I’m going to confront it. I have to.”
