I needed to buy myselftime.
I feigned a wheeze as I took in the endless rows of demons. The hèlborns blotted out every inch of escape, encircling me in front and behind.
I was in so much colossal rot.
“Well, well. He finally calls me Hèlslord. It only took you five hundred wingyears. I wonder how else you will address me in another five hundred.”
Zemshaza smiled. For a moment, the sight bowed my shoulders with fear. This demonic king had no knowledge ofkindness. Mercy. Out of all his brothers, he was the most patient. Which made him dangerous.
Zemshaza kept a comfortable posture beneath his velvet, obsidian robes, and the gleaming, onyx crown perched on his braided calf-length, raven hair. Like everything in the Underrealm that was dead and rotted, his dark brown skin lacked luster. Life. He watched me like prey, calculating his attack. His eyes swam to the portal, before sliding back to me.
“So you’re ready to cross through the portal.” A serpentine grin crawled across his face. “Very, well. I’m inclined to join you.”
He smiled. All six of my hearts sank.
I wasn’t prepared to face a bloodbath.
“You’re not coming to Sorellien, Zemshaza.”
The words left my mouth in a whisper.
They landed like a roar.
The hèlborns were unleashed before the words fully left my mouth.
I dove into the smokey, haze below to cloak myself from the demons. I drew on ethèr—my innate, angelic power. Soul Bending flooded my veins like rivers of fire. Snarls followed me, gnashing my bare heels. A clawed hand swiped across my calves, drawing blood. So used I was to physical pain, I didn’t even flinch. The hot ichor poured down my legs, sending the hèlborns into a frenzy. Blood of the Hallowed was their only meal and I was losing enough to turn them wild.
Shrouded by smoke and ash, I turned at an angle and began to sing. An eery melody broke through my chapped lips. My tone was unsteady. My voice cracked several times. But the melody still sounded.
Soft. Alluring.
A trap woven into a lullaby.
The hèlborns became unnaturally still. Their heads jerked towards me all at once. The droves of demons looked at me with coffins for eyes and fangs for teeth. I tried not to let the nightmarish sight break me. I continued to sing as I watched them shudder beneath the lull.
The demons were completely powerless, lost to the thrall of my voice.
I sang a morbid song of isolation. Brokenness. Abandonment. I overrode their desires with mine. I couldn’t grip their spirit nor their souls because they lacked both. So I settled for their bodies. I sang a final note before settling into an eery hum that made the hairs on my arms stand.
The demons contorted. Shrieked.
Then they fell silent.
Every hèlborns under my spell jerked, standing upright, bowing their heads to me.
And for the first time in centuries, I grinned.
“My Slave,” Zemshaza purred. “What are you doing down there with my pets?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I whispered to the hèlborns.
Then I unleashed them.
Like savage monsters, the horde of demons pushed up through the haze, flooding the open chamber above. They moved like a disturbing, coordinated, unit. Snarling, they burst through, rushing Zemshaza all at once. The Fallen King growled like a beast, exploding into battle. Obsidian explosions burst overhead as black blood began oozing from wounded hèlborns.
It was utter and complete chaos. Pandemonium unfolded with the constant screams of the unholy creatures. I opened my mouth to sing again.
Then Zemshaza spoke.
