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Exhaustion slammed into him. His throat burnt. The inside of his nose burnt. Everything felt as if at any moment it would simply melt off him. Sweat trickled down his face as he pulled himself from the haze of desperation.

Breathing out slowly, he said, “Fine. I pledge myself to you for ten years. Just stop your Hellfire! Now!”

“Then let it be so.” A clap rang out, followed by vacuous silence. The spirit moved to dive back into the swirling flames, but his shout stopped her.

She paused, bobbing in the fiery waves, her glowing eyes fixed on him, waiting.

“Who are you?” His voice was tight, his breath short.

A mischievous grin spread across her face. “How could I forget to introduce myself?” She swam closer, her gigantic eyes looming over him. “I—” Her face twisted into a manic grin. “—am the Goddess from whom all power flows. The Devil may have been able to trick me, temporarily binding my power, but I gifted him any power he had in the first place. ”

“The Goddess?” Oleander took a shaky step back. “What could you even want with me?”

The Goddess tilted her head, staring at him, studying him for a long moment. Then she leaned down, her smile turning sharp and furious. “You will be my vessel for justice.”

Epilogue

Consciousness came slowly, like hauling a too-heavy anchor up from dark crashing waves. Her head throbbed. Heat blistered across her skin, every brush of fabric agonising. Stones dug into her back with pointed aggression, but she could barely move a finger, let alone move somewhere more comfortable.

Panicked questions bubbled up through the haze of pain. Where am I? What happened to me?

Desperate for some clarity, she cracked an eye open. Silver curls lay splayed across her arm, glittering in sunlight so harsh that it sliced into her skull. She shut it tightly and focused on not allowing panic to overwhelm her.

Even still, a tear slipped out.

The fever that had raged across her skin moments ago slowly ebbed, and without the pain to distract her, more tears threatened to spill over—her confusion a rope slowly strangling her. Just as she was on the brink of a deluge of tears pouring from her, she became aware of something soft laying against her cheek.

With immense effort she lifted a hand and grasped the narrow, knitted cloth. As foggy as her thoughts were, somehow deep in her heart she knew this was a present from a friend. Someone had made this for her. This… what was it? Her fingers rubbed along the silky knots.

A scarf.

And a truth, unproven and unfounded as it may be, wrapped around her: someone had made this for her because they loved her.

She clutched the scarf with trembling fingers, finally finding a semblance of calm in its softness

Then, a deep, warm voice spoke nearby. She held her breath, trying to concentrate on the words. At first, they were incomprehensible, but then something inside her stirred and the words suddenly made sense.

“Ah, here’s something. It’s a notebook filled with some kind of writing… hm. I think it’s in Hellish? Which I can’t read.”

A second being spoke, their voice a thunderous explosion. “Hold it up, then. Perhaps I can read it.”

She tensed, her breath caught in her chest as she waited; straining to hear what the notebook said.

The voice of thunder said, “I believe it says… ‘Property of Perine Wilder.’ Ah, that must be her name.”

The pounding in her head started to fade. Slowly, she cracked her eyes open again, but this time, she found herself staring into the immense body of an onyx dragon, its scales shimmering in the dim light.

She froze, her heart thumping in her chest, trying to assess her surroundings and figure out how she could escape. But before she could move, the first voice called out.

“Wait! I think she’s awake! Move back, you big brute. You’re probably terrifying her.”

A man’s face appeared above her—a man with pale skin like watered-down milk and eyes that were soft and kind. He smiled gently at her. “You must be Perine Wilder. I’m Alois.”

The dragon stepped back and she slowly sat up. Her mind was still clouded. She didn’t know if she was Perine Wilder. In fact, she had no memory of who she was.

Had she hit her head? She touched her scalp, running her fingers through unruly curls, but felt no bumps or bruises.

Blowing out a breath, she tried to focus on the facts she could immediately confirm.