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From each of the fallen Ascending, soft pink vapours began to rise, swirling upward into the pitch-black sky. Were those—their souls?

The Grand Dukes began a rhythmic, monotone chanting, their voices rising as they repeated the same phrase, growing ever louder. Her thoughts felt frozen, still sluggish beneath the weight of shock. The chant reached her ears long before its meaning reached her mind.

Then comprehension and confusion washed over her. They were begging the Devil to grant his divine blessing upon them. What did the Devil have to do with Ascension? He wasn’t even here!

Meanwhile the vapours hung suspended for a moment above the lifeless bodies of the Ascending.

Repulsion rose inside her as the wisps of pink light—most definitely their souls—eventually ascended higher and higher, merging with pale pink streams descending from the stars above. The two forces collided, spinning together in a frenzy. Then, with an unsettling jolt, the vapours slammed back into the bodies from which they had emerged.

A shallow bowl was brought forward by Oleander’s father. Golden blood lifted from the open wounds in the necks of the Ascending, rising into the air along with any blood that had pooled on the floor or stained their clothes. The bodies on the ground were now dried-out husks.

The blood swirled in the air, curling toward the shallow bowl that awaited it.

The bowl should have overflowed. Only it never did. Instead the blood vanished into it, and from somewhere inside came slow, wet gulps—an obscene sound that carried across the expanse to Peri and Zila.

Gorging itself on the life-force of the demonkind around it.

Never satisfied.

Vibrations filled the air around the pavilion, growing deeper and darker with each passing second. The bodies slowly recovered some of their lost blood but still appeared extremely sickly and overly lean.

Peri watched blood fill back into her sister, swallowing back the bile that threatened to rise again. She looked slightly better but her head should not be angled so sharp against her shoulder, as if she were a broken doll.

Every breath came harder than the last, Peri’s sanity clawing at its edges.

Cold sweat beaded on her neck as she pushed back her curls, fingers trembling. She couldn’t hold it back anymore. Her body lurching in waves of agony, retching until her stomach was empty and clenching painfully.

The world pitched beneath her. Agonising pressure pounded through her skull while violent tremors wracked her body, each dry heave leaving her weaker than the last.

The last echoes of the chant died away, the sound of their voices choked by a dreadful stillness. She watched, aghast, as only the demons stirred—the demonesses remained seemingly lifeless on the ground. They rose slowly, methodically, brushing their hands over wrinkled clothing and smoothing out their hair with unnerving calm. No horror flickered in their eyes, as if they were unbothered by the carnage that had just been inflicted on them. It might as well have been but a fleeting nightmare. It was almost as if their memories had been stripped from them, leaving behind only hollow obedience that felt terrifying. Maddening to witness.

The bowl was nowhere to be seen.

The demonesses remained on the floor, still lifeless. But… were they also alive? A hideous flicker of hope rose in her, even as she watched a demon carelessly step on Sia’s hand—as if it were merely an uneven part of the pavilion’s floor. None of the demons paid any mind to the lifeless bodies around them, choosing instead to celebrate their immortality as soon as possible.

Peri held her breath, daring to believe that at any moment the demonesses too would rise.

The Grand Dukes served themselves and other now-immortal demons refreshments—rejuvenation potions and hearty meals. The demons drank and ate, restored by the magical elixirs. Still, the demonesses lay on the ground, unmoving.

Then.

Gods below.

Then.

Sia. Sat. Up.

Peri shoved her face into her cloak and let out the quietest sob she could manage.

When she next looked at the pavilion, the other demonesses had risen as well. Yet before they could be offered the same refreshments, the Grand Dukes declared it was time for the Ascended to reunite with their families to celebrate. Puffs of magical clouds returned to collect the Ascended, carrying them towards ground level.

The demonesses could barely stand. Sia, too frail to do anything but sit, was carried on a cloud to her waiting family.

Peri’s hands shook uncontrollably as she watched. Her sister’s frail form, too ill to even stand, disappearing into the crowd below.

This was the result of years of stringent piety?

The magic that had held Peri frozen on the rooftop finally released her. She gasped for breath, fighting off wave after wave of overwhelming panic. Her heart slammed in her chest and her relief and horror threatened to be her undoing. Instead, she reached for the simplest mantra she could find—Sia’s alive—repeating it as many times as it took until she believed it.