Stumbling through the main hall, I realized quickly that I had no idea where to go. Aside from the demon I’d just killed who’d been waiting inside, the castle’s entry hall was empty.

Unfortunately, it was also designed like an old fort—or like a castle. From the entranceway, different halls shot off to the sides, windows looked down on me from the second floor, and closed doors barred my vision.

The hall looked far from deserted, however. More than anything, it looked like it had been abandoned—until recently. Old crumbling wood, a worn and torn carpet, and missing sconces gave the dark room an eerie look that would have once scared me. Recent repairs evidenced a recent reoccupation. What I focused on now, however, were the claw marks in the rug and the stone both, and the signs of either a major struggle, or a lot of people moving.

Big as it was, the castle had to hold something.

Aura sight showed nothing either, so I strained my ears to hear. Faint sounds came from one hall to my right side. When I had flown in, I’d seen a steeple with an aged statue and narrow stained-glass windows high up on the stone walls.

A chapel to Dhias?

I ran while I thought, following the sounds that became a low susurration of speech in a reedy voice that tickled at my memories.

The space would hardly be large enough to hold the people from a city of that size—right? But there might not be anything bigger in this place. Castle Astrye looked like an older building ringed by a slightly newer wall—maybe a fort—turned into a castle. And even then, it’d been a practical place. There’d be no grand throne room.

But why the chapel? Wouldn’t that be the worst place for a demonic ritual? Even if the place wasn’t originally to Dhias, but had been converted later, that still wouldn’t make sense. Unless it had been forsaken, like the church in Gedon had been. Abandoned wouldn’t work—the small shrine Sey and I had stayed at in the forest proved that much.

Whatever the case may be, I had to get there—and soon. Memories of Erik returned to me, memories of screams I was too slow to stop. The hallway wasn’t wide enough for my wings, but as it turned and I followed the sound, I saw more and more signs of people passing.

Small, dropped objects: a coin here, a button there. Personal effects. I was headed the right direction.

The hallway ended in wooden double doors, closed fast. I turned my right shoulders down, feeling that a good portion of my regeneration had already finished, I ran straight through the door. Old dark wood splintered apart as I barreled inside, and when I saw the sight before me, my vision went red.

Dark lines, in a pattern reminiscent of that night in Linthel, crisscrossed the walls and the floor. Any pews or other furniture had been removed to make room for the sheer crush of people inside the large space. To either side of a narrow passage down the middle, rows of people were packed in shoulder-to-shoulder. They all stared forward, entranced for certain—but by whom I didn’t know.

I felt no barrier, no presence of Dhias in any form that railed against either my intrusion or the magic that permeated the air, creating an effect almost like a fog under my aura sight. Standing straight ahead of me, in the only clear area by where a pulpit had once been, was an old, thin man in dark robes. His cold, blue eyes widened in surprise, and his sharp, gaunt features slackened.

Finley. The man who’d ordered the death of me, my family, and nearly everyone I’d loved as a human was no more than fifteen meters from where I stood. Like before, he was standing just off from the center of the markings, and around him they glowed with power.

With a roar, I charged forward, fast as I dared. My motion caused several of the entranced to stumble, and some others to fall, toppling like living dominos behind me.

Finley had little more than enough time to widen his eyes, hands twitching as if to raise and cast magic my way, before I reached him. I raised two clawed hands to strike him down wordlessly, my face set into a grim line.

Only for a slender, clawed hand to erupt through Finley’s rib cage, clutching the man’s heart. The ritual shuddered, but the gathering magic did not yet spin apart. My hands came down and tore through the already-dead Finley, and the hand retreated with such speed that I barely grazed its fingertips.

Fast as I could, I whirled toward where the hand must have come from, in shadows too deep to be natural. A slim, tall figure stepped out from the darkness, holding Finley’s heart aloft in front of them. I watched the severed muscle beat its last, blood dripping onto the chapel floor and snow-white shoes.

Dressed in fine clothing of gray and white, accented in black, the figure looked down at me with an impassive look that quickly curled into a thin-lipped smile. They looked… a bit like everyone I’d ever seen, and their face shifted in a way that made my head spin trying to place it. Likewise, their figure was androgynous—but didn’t lack for features. Just that… none of them seemed to stick.

I didn’t have to turn on aura sight to have a guess at who I was looking at.

“Envy,” I growled.

“Zarenna Miller,” a voice that sounded like no one in particular replied.

The figure’s smile widened, and their eyes looked from me to the heart clutched in their hand.  I took that chance and lunged for them. They bent bonelessly to one side, and their arm shot out.

I felt an impact like a cannon shot, and stumbled backwards, catching myself with my tail before landing on my knees, breath coming in a wheeze. The front of my chest felt wet, and I dared to look down.

Finley’s pulped heart dripped down the front of my dress, dark blood following the embroidered line of a rose stem toward the floor.

With another shudder, the ritual rent apart, and the force of the gathered magic that rushed toward the heart blinded my aura sight, forcing me to blink it away. I felt intoxicatingly wonderful demonic mana surging around me, much of it finding my body a good home, even as most spun away back into the air, or off to places I couldn’t see. Frantically, I pulled the leaving wisps of mana, both drawn to them and also fervently hoping to keep demonic mana from surging through the crowd of humans and lupael.

I dared a glance at the townspeople, but they seemed, by some miracle, unaffected. They were still, however, entranced, and when I looked back, Envy was gone.

A shadow loomed over me from behind, and onto the floor, cast in kaleidoscopic colors by one of the stained-glass windows. The smile was jagged, and cut out impossibly from the rest of the figure. I shivered—I hadn’t seen Envy move.

“What—the fuck do you want?” I wheezed.

“What I can never have,” Envy replied simply.

I whipped my head around and they were gone. Behind me again!

“Leave here now.” I tried my best to sound intimidating as I stood shakily. Bits of Finley’s pulped heart dropped to the floor with wet thuds. Even with all the ritual’s gathered magic inside me, I didn’t think this was a fight I could win.

The chuckle that sounded was anything but amused. “Or what?”

“Or—”

“You’re outmatched, Zarenna Miller, Sovereign of Wrath—and you know it.”

I couldn’t even find the demon to glare at them.

“Why then?” I tried a different tack, gesturing to the still-entranced people packed into the rest of the large room. “Why do all this?”

“I have my reasons. Good ones, I assure you.”

“Good for who?”

“Me, of course.”

“You’re sick.”

“We all are.”

“I’m—”

“What of your altruism? Do you truly mean it, or are you just afraid of your nature? You seem to struggle with killing even if it means saving the mortals and underlings you call friends.”

That one hurt. “They’re alive,” I said defiantly.

“For now.”

I shivered again. “No, you can’t be—”

“I’m not. Not right now.”

What? “Why tell me that?”

“Why indeed, Zarenna Miller.”

“Why are you using my full name?”

Envy laughed in response, the sound inhuman and scratchy. “I look forward to watching you struggle, Zarenna Miller.”

“Struggle?”

“Yesss,” they hissed. “A war’s coming, and I am so very excited for it.”

“Your war?”

“Indeed.”

“Why? Why do all of this? Why not kill me right now?”

“I already told you, Zarenna Miller. And I believe you have another to chase with your revenge here denied.”

“All that matters is that he can’t hurt anyone. I don’t care that I didn’t get to kill him.” My hands twitched involuntarily at the memory of slicing through Finley’s flesh, his blood still lingering on my claws.

“My mistake,” the impossible voice said sarcastically—somehow.

For a moment, I felt like I could pin down Envy’s form as they swirled around me. I lunged again, but my claws caught only retreating shadows that flowed toward the door. As I gave chase, the people of the city started to rouse around me. And then the screaming started.

A cacophony of voices, some in Ordian and some in a language I did not know, rose around me. Mixed among the shouts of “Where am I?” and “What’s going on?” were shouts of defiance and of “demon.”

Most of those around me backed away, though a few threw punches.

“I’m not your enemy!” I shouted. “Finley is dead, and I’m going after anyone else involved with his demon cult.” I didn’t know why I chose to remember Yevon’s words about implicating the church, but it certainly didn’t hurt to be very clear about what I was after.

After all, I didn’t know all the pieces of what Mordwell had or hadn’t done here. That he and Lorelei had left was something that seemed almost certain, but I would have to check. Unfortunately, in order to do that, I’d need to do something about the panicked crowd. Some were already starting toward the door.

My first shout hadn’t worked.

Despite being at least a head taller than everyone, red, terrifying, and in a stunning dress, I needed to get everyone’s attention, and hold it.

So I shouted at the top of my large lungs, putting as much power as I could into my voice. “STOP!!”

To my happy surprise, they did. Unfortunately, confusion was quickly being replaced by fear as the dominant emotion I saw on people’s faces, especially as they took in the markings around the defiled chapel.

I strode through the crowd to where Finley’s body was, and held the heartless corpse aloft for all to see. Some people started to drift their eyes back toward the door, and I glared at those closest, my wings of fire flaring to crimson life behind me to bathe the chapel in a bright glow.

“Finley is dead!” I threw the corpse to one side, and the crunch it made against the stone wall of the chapel punctuated my sentence and silenced even those who had started to speak again. “There may still be others, and other demons, in this castle—and I don’t mean me!”

No one spoke. Everyone stared at me.

I pulled some anger from those with the most, and continued, “Believe it or not, I’ve come here with the purpose of killing that man and ending his abuse of both mortals and demons. I’m going to search this castle top to bottom for anything I missed, and I will return to let you all know it is safe when I am done.

“But first, I need to know if Mordwell has gone south yet, the same with the four-armed, four-eyed demon.”

Again, no one spoke. I noticed now that I stood in the middle of the ritual array, just as I had on that fateful night all those years ago. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and continued.

“Don’t all speak at once now.” I huffed a small jet of flame. “I get it; the big red demon lady is scary, and her clothing is impractical. If I wanted to kill all of you, I’d have already done so. Someone, a leader maybe, please fill me in on what’s been happening here in Astrye so I know I’ve killed everyone that needs to be killed.”

Finally, someone stepped forward. An older human man, and a lupael woman. Both of them had the same sort of lean-muscled build Seyari and my sister shared. I nodded, then gestured with one hand for them to speak.

“What do you want from us, demon?” the man asked, eyes hard, but voice unsteady. “You must have another motive.

“For once,” the woman commented, “I agree. Demons do not commit acts of kindness for kindness’ sake.”

“That man,” I pointed to the corpse. “Killed me in a similar ritual and I’m the resultant demon—one of them, anyway. You might know of the Great Linthel Fire?”

I got a hesitant nod from the man.

“Then you know that I am here for revenge for a heinous act.” I crossed my lower arms to finish the statement.

“But what after?” the man asked. His hesitation was draining away against the onslaught of my greatest weapon: reasonable conversation. That or he assumed he was dead anyway and wanted to draw things out for a chance to escape.

“After?” I answered, relaxing my posture—although my wings were still out and blazing. “I’ll be going after those who were in charge of Finley, and I’ll take them down too. There’s a war coming, and there will be demons on both sides.”

“A war…” the woman murmured.

The man wheeled on her. “You cannot be thinking of those old legends?”

“And why not? Until your Church—the Church that was about to kill us all—”

“They were not the Church of Dhias,” the man cut in angrily.

“Fine. Until your Church came, we—and the humans who were here with us—treated demons as forces of nature. Malevolent, yes, but with purpose. The Lost Era had wars between demons, we know this.”

“And you mean for us to take a side?”

“I hadn’t considered that, but…” the woman turned back to look at me. “Will we need to?”

“So long as the cult remains, and I have great suspicion a man called—”

“Fuck this! Why are we listening to a demon?!” someone shouted from near the back. “She’s just one demon! We can take her!”

The response caught me off guard. There was anger, certainly, but I thought I’d maintained everyone’s low enough. Then again, anger wasn’t the only source…

Someone near them threw a small blade my way, and I watched it move lazily through the air before snatching it by the handle. Another threw a weak burst of fire, and I let it wash over me.

“If you want to leave—” I took the blade between two fingers and snapped it. “—go ahead. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Another voice shouted “We’re not really going to—”

I flicked the broken blade their way, and it flew over the crowd to embed itself in the wall. “Go ahead. Keep interrupting me. I’m a wrath demon. Find out what happens.”

“See, she’s evil!” the first person shouted again.

I sighed and nodded to the two I’d been speaking with, then walked through the crowd toward the person trying to rile people up. Realizing they’d lost their anonymity, they shrank away and tried to run, even as the crowd parted away from me in fear. I picked them up by the collar and they—a human man—screamed and kicked. I took away the rest of their anger and they went mostly limp, shaking.

I brought them closer, looking them in the eyes from close up. “If I am evil for getting mad when people try to kill me, then the whole damn world must be evil. I saved you, and I’m not even asking for a ‘thanks’ in return. Be. Fucking. Grateful.” I dropped the man and walked back through the crowd. “Like I said, you all can leave. I’m not the boss of you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

At that, hesitantly at first, people began to file out of the chapel. Some, however, stayed. Including the to I’d been speaking to. I walked back over to them, scratching idly at a horn. “I hate that people keep pushing me like that. Where were we?”

The man looked at me with hard eyes, and the woman replied, “The man you had suspicion of?”

“Right! Mordwell. He recently fled south of here,. Moreover, Envy and Avarice—the sovereign demons—will seek to use you to their own ends.”

“Use us how?” the man asked.

“Like this.” I gestured to the room. “Sacrifices to make more demons, or as a bargaining chip to either the mortals or to me.”

“To you?” the woman caught on.

I nodded. “Yes. I’m opposed to those two, Envy and Avarice. I and another Sovereign ally of mine will be fighting them.”

“You?” both of them asked.

“Yes, me.” I gestured to the gem embedded in my sternum, easily visible by the low cut of my dress. “I am Wrath. I undersold myself when I said I was just ‘a’ wrath demon earlier.”

The woman’s eyes squinted, her ears already low against her head. “Are you really Wrath?”

“I am. If my wrath controlled me, would I truly be the master of it?”

“Master?” the man asked. “What are you talking about?”

I shot him a glare and he stiffened, as if only now remembering what I was. “Sovereign demons. Now’s not the time to explain, but we’re the six strongest demons. Two of us are going to kick off a war, and myself and another will go against them.”

For a long moment, everyone went back to staring at me.

I sighed, letting another jet of fire out. “Look, can you let me know who all is involved and what’s gone on here so I can make sure there’s not something powerful enough that I’d struggle to protect all of you that’s already on its way here?”

“Protect us?” the man asked.

“Yes. Protect. I’m rather fond of mortals. Used to be one and all that.”

“I’ll tell you,” the woman answered, earning a glare from the man.

“Wonderful!” I clapped all four hands together.

For the next minute or so, I got a rundown of what had happened, and I’d mostly pieced it together already. Finley came first, and there was a gradual increase up to the point where there were demons in the streets. Charity had turned into control, especially of food and critical goods as the pass was monitored and restricted.

Mordwell showed up fairly recently, and that was when things got really bad. The reason the whole town fit into the chapel was, simply put, because there were quite a few fewer people than there used to be. Today was probably an attempt to get the last “value” out of Astrye before they lost it. I wanted to throw up, but my stomach refused to get nauseous even of my mind was doing awful flips.

The only good thing was that Mordwell had finally taken off his mask—and that’s probably why he ran. Now, with Kartania’s testimony and the word of the people of Astrye, that bastard could finally be branded a traitor.

But the missing a murdered people and livestock and game meant several demons were as-of-yet unaccounted for—most of them lesser. Worse still, Mordwell had fled only hours after I’d tried to free Lorelei of her binding, and was days gone with snow to cover the tracks. And Lorelei had gone with him too, after presumably spilling everything she’d learned of me to him.

Dhias, I was an idiot sometimes.

But with Mordwell on the loose, and the information that those appointed to run the region had all been killed, Astrye was vulnerable. If I left to chase Mordwell, and went in a wrong direction, I could come back to a dead city and a raging monstrosity.

I hated that King Carvalon’s offer to make me Marchioness was gaining appeal.

As we spoke, I ended the spell sustaining my wings and I brought out little balls of light on my horn tips in their place. From the few people left, that and the conversational tone served as a silver lining, a little trust gained.

“I have some friends arriving—including a Paladin of Dhias an unaffiliated half angel, and a woman from here named Brynna who alerted me to your plight,” I finished recounting my own allies. “We will secure the city, unless we can catch Mordwell with certainty.

I remembered Envy’s taunt, and realized that with the other sovereign helping Mordwell, there was probably no way. Why Envy hadn’t killed me, and they hadn’t killed the town, I didn’t know. It worried me because it spoke of some greater plan.

Or sheer arrogance.

Either way, people were alive, and Finley was dead along with the bulk of the cult. All that got away were the strongest demon and the strongest mages.

Yay.

“Brynna?” someone spoke up from near the door right after I’d wrapped up. “That’s good to hear.”

I nodded, turning toward the door. “Yes, and she should be in the city already. I’d like to take a look around the rest of this castle if you don’t mind, and you lot can head back to the city. My only worry is some sort of ambush between here and there.”

“That won’t be a problem,” a new voice shouted from just outside the door.

A pair of lupaels in leather armor, carrying several weapons each, walked into the room. Their smiles froze when they saw me.

I gave them a wave. “Like my handiwork outside? Sorry about the wall.”

“Fuck,” the guy said.

The woman, after staying frozen for a second, handed the man a small razor and snickered. I didn’t get why that made him turn red as a beet.