by Angel Lawson
Luke has grown in the time I’ve known him. He’d been a spoiled, ridiculously handsome prick when we’d met, used to getting whatever he wanted, when he wanted it. But the betrayal he felt from his father seemed to rock him to the core. He seems determined to prove to his father, the Devil, that he’s more than a demon—that the human side of him carries weight.
“Thank you for waiting for us. I’d never traveled in and out of that portal alone. I wasn’t sure how to get back either. When I saw your hand pop through…I just grabbed it.”
“I know you’re worried about the other Immortals, but I promise you, we’ll find them.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You sure that’s a promise you can keep? We don’t even know what we’re getting into.”
His lips quirk into a smug grin. “I may not be a legendary warrior, but I’ll prove myself worthy of being your ally, Valkyrie.”
I forgot egotistical in my prior description, but his confidence is comforting. You can’t save the world if you have doubts.
We make it to the steps of the temple. The building is grand, made of marble. Luke and I climb the steps, followed by Elizabeth. Marshal brings up the rear, sword gripped in his hand as he sloshes out of the ankle-deep water. When we reach the top of the staircase, the rumbling behind us grows louder. I turn, as do the others, just in time to see the entire foundation of the Academy finally give.
“Oh shit,” I mutter, tugging Elizabeth by the arm. We scramble, racing toward the temple doors. The rumbling turns to a roar, as though a bomb has detonated. The rock holding up the building splits into a million pieces, churning into a billow of dust. Marshal and Luke slam the temple door close once we enter, blocking out the debris and latching the door.
“I guess there’s no going back,” Elizabeth says, her voice small in the cavernous room.
“No, I don’t think that place was ever truly meant to be a home,” I reply, stepping into the arched narthex. Runes are carved over the doorways, and flickering candles light the small room. The heady scent of incense fills the humid air. The chill of the Abyss was left outside, but I now feel uneasy. I clutch the blade in my hand, keeping alert.
We enter the sanctuary. The ceiling is vaulted with marble pillars. Row after row of pews line the aisle. Candles flicker in small alcoves, casting shadowy light. I’d never known who this temple belonged to, or exactly who is worshipped in this ancient space, but as I walk down the center aisle, my eyes are drawn to large statues along the walls. They’re carved of dark, glossy stone, their faces and features frozen in time. I’m not the only one studying them. Marshal is a few feet away from me and spins around, eyeing each one. He freezes, grabbing my hand, and gestures to one midway down.
“Look familiar?” he asks.
"Is that Morgan?” I ask, staring at my friend’s immortalized face. She’s as beautiful in stone as she is in real life. My eyes drop to her hand, where I see the dagger I’m currently carrying. “What is this? What’s happening?”
Marshal shrugs, eyes narrowed and wary.
“That’s the Raven Queen,” Luke replies. “Each statue is symbolic of the rulers of each realm represented in the apocalypse.” He points to one of a handsome man with sharp, pointed teeth. “The Vampire King.”
Marielle’s father. The resemblance is uncanny, even in stone.
Elizabeth wanders away and stands under the statue of a man and woman. Dark wings arch behind his back. They both have crowns placed on their heads. “That’s the King and Queen of my home—Talamh—Liam and Nadya.”
“Hildi,” Marshal calls, pointing to another. It’s a faceless man in a heavy cloak, hood covering his head. Tell-tale dreadlocks hang on his chest. “The Shaman.”
“Darius’ uncle.”
The Legion had been sold to the Shaman by the God Camulus, and they fought in the ring for him for decades. The fighting ring is where I met Morgan for the first time. Darius had been an ally at the Academy. I hope he’s still alive.
There are others I don’t recognize. Some terrifying, others beautiful and alluring. Each of our classmates hails from one of these realms—sent by their rulers to join in this fight. As we study each one, looking for a trace of familiarity, Luke wanders to the front of the sanctuary, closest to the altar. He stands under a statue, gazing upward. There’s little doubt whose likeness is immortalized in stone. The cheekbones are strikingly similar, the curve of the lips a perfect match. Luke’s hands ball into tight fists as he stares up at the stone face of his father, Lucifer.
“Good,” a voice calls, shattering the silence in the room. “You’re here.”
The scent of brimstone fills the room and my blade is pulled and ready in an instant—same with Marshal. Elizabeth tilts her head, alert and on guard, but Luke…Luke simply shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs before facing the altar, where a beautiful dark-haired woman leans against the marble platform.
“Hello, Luke,” she says with a grin. “We weren’t sure you’d make it.”
He chuckles. “No, I’m sure you’d planned on me not being here at all.”
“You know her?” I ask, eyes darting between them. Is this a trick? A trap?
“Yes.” He grimaces. “This is my step-mother.”
I glance at Marshal, who looks like he’s one step from slaughtering both of them.
“Excuse me?” I ask, needing way more information. “Your step-mother?”
“Everyone,” he says, gesturing to the woman on the altar. “This is Lilith. Lilith, I assume you know who everyone is already.”
She smiles. “I do. The Valkyrie, the Knight, and the Fairy. I’ve been waiting for your arrival. Take a wrong turn somewhere?”
She noticeably does not include Luke in that list. Maybe they really didn’t expect Luke to make it to the end-game.
“Did you say Lilith?” Marshal asks. “As in Lucifer’s first wife?”
“Yes,” Luke replies, keeping his eyes on his stepmother. “My mother was not allowed in hell—being human and everything. So Lilith raised me.” He exhales deeply. “It’s not like my father was doing much fathering.”
“Well, your father has a message for you.” She waves her hand and an envelope appears.
“Seeing that he sacrificed me to this bullshit apocalypse, I don’t have much interest in what he has to say.” He mutters a curse under his breath.
“You do realize it was an honor to have been chosen to fight for his realm, don’t you?”
Luke snorts. “Nice try. As usual, he just wanted someone else to do his dirty work. I’m not interested in furthering his control and domination.”
“Which is exactly why you’ve been summoned.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Summoned?"
He takes the envelope from her and peels off a thick wax seal. His frown deepens.
“Where?” Marshal asks, striding over to see the paper himself.
Luke willingly hands him the parchment while replying, “The City of Dis.”
The city of what?
“Who has the power to summon us?” Elizabeth asks. “This is the apocalypse, not a court of law.”
“Apparently, my father disagrees.” He skims the summons. “The apocalypse is taking place in the Lowerworld—specifically Hell—which is his domain. He’s determined that anyone opposing the campaign is a traitor and heretic.”
Elizabeth pales and says, “The King of Hell wants us to come to him.”
“Yep.”
“Where exactly is the City of Dis?” Marshal asks.
Luke grimaces. “It’s in the sixth circle of Hell, which sucks, except it could be the ninth circle so…three better?”
A very bad feeling rolls up my spine, and I look at Lilith. “Did everyone Lucifer consider a traitor get one of these?”
Gold hoops glint from her ears when she nods. “Yes, they did. Each person that enters the apocalypse will have to take the same journey traveling through the rings of hell. If you survive, you’ll face him at the City of Dis.”
> We all share a look. The Legion and our allies are ahead of us, but so are all our enemies. Can we survive the rings without them?
“What’s so special about Dis?” I ask.
“It’s where heretics are punished along with non-conformists and unbelievers,” Luke replies. “My father loves a bit of theater.”
The candlelight flickers by an invisible wind and Lilith gives us a sympathetic grin. “It’s been lovely meeting you all. It was good to see you, son, don’t be a stranger.”
“Yeah, you too Mommy, tell Daddy I’ll see him soon.”
Lilith winks and vanishes in a swift breeze.
“I’m sensing some family drama,” I say, taking the summons from Marshal and reading it on my own. It’s pretty straightforward, including an addendum at the bottom that if we don’t follow the rules of the summons, we forfeit any chance of winning this war and the demons of hell will chase us down. The apocalypse will be won by our enemies.
Marshal gives the parchment back to Luke, and he rolls it up and tucks it into his pocket. I’d wondered all along if he’d really betray his father. He may be faking, but deep down I don’t think so. His disgust is palpable.
I wish I felt the same about Marshal—him, I still don’t trust. He’s proven himself to be fickle and power hungry. He needed me to heal him, and I need him to fulfil my destiny. Gods help us if he’s really on the other side.
6
Armin
I stand in the shadows peering out at the massive arena that Victorine created to look like Olympus. The stands are full of students. A large cage sits at the end of the field. Day after day, they come here to watch the culling of their classmates, praying they aren’t next. The discombobulating sensation of déjà vu rolls muddies my mind as my eyes are drawn to the box seat in the stands. Roland is there sitting beside Marshal. Marielle hangs onto Roland, and I spot one of the twins in Marshal’s lap. A false grin is plastered on his handsome face. If there’s one thing the knight knows what to do, it’s fake it. He’ll probably smile at the gods as they take his final breath.
Marshal’s gaze is focused on the field below, and cheers draw my attention to the center. Victorine walks out, floating on a cloud—an actual cloud of puffed air. She taunts the crowd, “Good evening, spawn of royalty! Tonight’s very special, the first solo challenge to test one lucky student’s worth!”
She grins, wicked and delighted, to the cage across the field. I narrow my eyes at the small animals inside. There’s something different about them. Something concrete. A sense of dread fills my gut.
What has her demented mind created?
From where I stand, I can see one of the animals bare its teeth. They are sharp, many, and compiled in rows.
There’s been a shift in the game, and Roland wants us to witness it. Or at least that’s what I assume as the gaping hole opens across the field, allowing the challenger to walk onto the field, head covered in a dark hood. The person’s stature is small, and if they speak, it’s drowned out by the sound of the ravenous crowd. The guard yanks off the hood at the same time Victorine opens the cage.
My heart skids to a stop when I see Elizabeth at the other end of the field, her hair a mess from the hood. Her eyes wide with confusion and terror. I watch as her expression transforms, watching the small, fluffy animals come racing toward her. They look sweet. Gentle, but under the cheers is the low growl of their hunger.
Panicked, Elizabeth looks around—probably for a weapon.
“Armin,” Rupert says from behind me. Where he came from, I’m not sure. “Do something.”
Do something.
I blink, the words rattling around like an echo in my mind. The scene plays in slow motion, because although I know I’m here to save Elizabeth, that’s not who I’m focused on. It’s the woman striding across the grass, weapon held high, blond hair swinging at her back.
The Valkyrie.
My Valkyrie.
I rush onto the field, prepared to fight for Hildi, the one that showed me how to feel, how to care, how to fucking sleep. Blood squishes between my toes and the snapping jaw of gods-made creatures bite at my ankles. Day after day, my goal is to reach her to save her. Day after day, I fail.
I slash my sword, the moves rote—choregraphed? I will myself to take a different path, stab harder, kick with greater force. But my arms and legs guide smoothly yet out of my control. Like a puppet. One of these chances it has to be different. Why would the gods torment me with the same scene over and over?
Why would they send me back here? Keep me locked in a never-ending battle? Why would they make me watch Hildi die, over and over again?
Yet, as the assault happens, as she does everything she can to save her friend, I’m useless. I can’t reach her as the monsters’ sharp teeth plunge into her arm, while another slashes at her leg with thick, razor-sharp claws. Blood pours from the wounds and she stumbles, tripping over the small beasts, her back hitting the cage. She grunts and grapples for the sword, but it’s lost in a sea of fuzzy monsters. I fight to get to her, my legs made of stone, the ground quicksand. She looks up into the drooling grin of an abomination, his claws digging into her stomach. The crowd’s excitement peaks. At one point the God of Death—Agis—arrived to carry her away.
Not this time.
It’s just me, failing.
It’s just me, watching her die.
It’s just me, caught in a cycle of futile pain, of loss, of horror.
It’s just me, losing the woman I love, over and over again.
Until the gods force me to do it again.
7
Hildi
Luke takes the lead as we exit the temple. The doors seal behind us, and we follow the worn dirt path into a damp forest. The trees that line the path have twisted trunks, bark peeling and thick. Branches jut overhead—no leaves—heavy fog clings to the limbs.
Marshal grabs my arm and holds me back. “Do we really trust him?”
“You may not, but I do.”
“We’re walking straight into his backyard, Hildi, he could lead us astray at any moment, send us into a trap. The risk for betrayal is high.”
I cut him a look. “You’re talking about betrayal? Seriously?”
His jaw tenses, and he pushes back his fair hair. “That was different. It was complicated. Which is exactly what this situation is. Family always wins.”
I snort. “You have zero sense of irony, do you. You’re the one that betrayed your family!”
“To be fair, Roland was my family for a long time. And where am I now? Who did I come back to?”
“You needed me.”
And I need him.
Gods, we're screwed. I know it, and the crease on his forehead says he knows it, too.
“Look,” I say, keeping an eye on our surroundings, “Luke has been steady this whole time. Training with us, working side by side. Elizabeth trusts him, and I know the Immortals do. Otherwise they wouldn’t have had him wait for us.”
His jaw clenches and relents, barely. “Fine, but I’m watching him.”
“You do that, and while you’re watching him, I’ll be watching you.”
His eyebrow shoots up. “Oh, I bet you are. You never have been able to resist looking at me.”
Insufferable. I roll my eyes and walk ahead, catching up to Elizabeth. No one speaks as the landscape darkens and the trees grow thicker and gnarled.
“So,” Marshal says, his voice cutting through the eerie quiet, “This is Limbo?”
“The outer edge,” Luke says, side-stepping a thick root. “Actual Limbo is specific for whoever is experiencing it. For some, it’s dull monotony. Others it’s like wandering in the Abyss—dark and inky, never ending.” He nods at the trees. “See the faces?”
I frown and look at the gnarled, knotted tree trunk in confusion. That is, until one of the knots blinks. I jump back, reaching for my blade. “What the hell?”
Elizabeth pushes her back against mine. “Those are people?”
�
��These are the souls that didn’t believe in a higher power—the atheists and unbelievers. The gods have no use for them, so they get locked in the second they enter.”
The Legion definitely believe in gods—from personal experience. I breathe a sigh of relief and peer at a face in the tree. “Does it hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
He continues down the path with the same causal air. I, on the other hand, am completely unnerved. Even Marshal looks a bit uneasy as he eyes the trees, and I hear the wariness in his voice when he asks, “If the Legion aren’t in there, then how do we find them?”
“They’ll be in the inner circle of the ring—fighting their version of Limbo.”
“What does that mean?” Elizabeth asks.
He glances back, cheekbones sharp with shadows. “Have you ever had a repetitive nightmare? Dream of falling? Of being lost in a maze? Drowning?” Marshal gives a curt nod. I can’t help but wonder what his nightmare is; a woman’s rejection? Not enough wine? “Then that’s where they’ll be…if they are still here.”
“And what? We just grab them and run?”
He chuckles. “I doubt it will be that easy.”
The path narrows, tapering off to a single file trail. The trees grow sparse, old. No, not just old, ancient. How long had these souls been here? I didn’t want to know the answer. Ahead, Luke stops and I see that he’s standing at an iron gate, a massive wall stretching out on both sides.
“What’s in there?” Marshal asks.
Luke turns the knob and glances back at us. “Limbo.”
Of all the places my mind had conjured up for the Immortals' Limbo, Victorine’s arena never crossed my mind. These men had been though thousands of battles—death, then resurrection by the god Camulus, then sold into slavery and freed once again. They’d fought and died. Loved and lost, but the arena? That was a blip in time.