When the mountain began to tremble, Phynis just thought it was the beacon firing again at first. It made her fear what was coming next as she clutched Sapphire in a tight, almost desperate hug.

Tyria was panting, her light and power dimming as she fought Irethiel. The demon was savage and dangerous, her mace having partially collapsed several plates of Tyria’s armor.

“I remade your armor, you know. Every last plate… so I know all the weaknesses. Same with your sword, little goddess. How long do you think you can hold out against me?” Irethiel taunted, grinning as she stared at the goddess. She’d only received a handful of nicks in her armor in return, which made Phynis’ fear grow as the demon continued. “Come now… submit again and your torment will end.”

Tyria just scowled, holding her sword in both hands and about to retort when the shaking intensified, the rumbling of the mountain growing audible as it shook and a wave of immense power flooded the chamber. Everyone looked around, but when Phynis looked at Sistina’s tree, she felt herself smiling.

The tree, always glowing softly, was now blazing with brilliant silver light. Every seam of the bark was outlined brightly, every ruby glittering with an intense, immense power that somehow didn’t touch Phynis or the Jewels.

“It’s about time, Sistina,” Phynis called out, letting go of Sapphire and shaking her head. “I was starting to get worried!”

“What have you done, you foolish dungeon? That power… where did you get it? And do you really believe it will save you?” Irethiel asked, her voice dark as she glowered at the tree, keeping an eye on Tyria.

“Yes, it will.” The voice that responded was much calmer, smokier somehow, but it was still Sistina’s, and it came from the body that Irethiel had sent flying only minutes before.

The figure was standing up, and as it did, the body changed its shape. Sistina’s skin gained a pink tinge, and the wood pattern to it vanished as it became a near-ivory white. From the brow of her head grew a pair of almost delicate black horns, just below the hairline and swept backward, as her injuries vanished like they’d never existed. Her eyes slowly shifted to a deep violet with vertical pupils and her lips darkened even as she smiled. The tail and the bat-like wings that mirrored Irethiel’s own body grew rapidly as well, and the strange woman, who Phynis couldn’t quite think of as Sistina, stretched with a sound of pleasure, her back popping as black bone slid out to sheathe her in armor.

“Irethiel, it’s been a long time… hasn’t it?” the woman purred, and Phynis looked on in surprise as the demon lord actually paled.

“Avendrial?” Irethiel asked, taking a step back. “How is this possible? And that aura… that isn’t possible, for you to have grown so powerful! I made certain of it!”

“Yes, yes… you were the one who told Gauros I’d betrayed him and sabotaged my efforts to carry out Kathyria’s orders. You were also the one who decided to give him the spell he used to trap me.” Avendrial smiled broadly, buffing her nails as an aura of cold completely at odds with the light around Sistina’s tree enveloped her. “You know, I do rather hold a grudge about that.”

“You’re the one who taught me to take control if I could! That it was the place of a demon to strive for power!” Irethiel spat, glowering. “You should have died three millennia ago! How is this even possible?”

As they spoke, Phynis’ eyes glanced back to Sistina’s tree and stopped, almost breathless. Superimposed over her tree was another figure, this one an elven woman with walnut brown hair, deep blue eyes, pale skin and angelic wings. The figure’s lips were moving, but Phynis got the distinct impression that no one else could see her, as she wove strands of gleaming silver light in the air.

“Oh good. I wasn’t actually certain that you’d done it, I just wanted confirmation,” the other demon replied, walking up to Tyria and smiling at her, clicking her tongue softly. “Tsk. You really should do something about that problem of yours, Tyria. One moment, I need to borrow this. I have an errant student to deal with.”

Phynis didn’t know when the demon took Tyria’s sword, and from the look on the goddess’ face, neither did Tyria. Avendrial flipped the sword in one hand and smiled broadly. “To answer your question, my rebellious student… I was stubborn. Even with my Name erased, I didn’t want to die, and I made new memories within the gemstone where I was trapped, until eventually I was accidentally released, just in time for a certain seed to absorb my spirit. But as for me? Oh, I’ve been a mere fragment of memory and resentment. If you hadn’t shown up, why… I may never have awoken. Sistina’s will is much stronger than my own. Even with your presence, I didn’t have the power to do anything, but fortunately you pushed her to the most desperate measures possible.”

As she spoke, Irethiel lunged forward suddenly and swung her mace, prompting an instant of panic from Phynis. The panic vanished as Avendrial raised her sword and blocked the mace, not quite effortlessly but close to it, while her armored tail deflected the demon lord’s into the ground, spraying rock and gravel everywhere.

“This… isn’t possible!” Irethiel growled, straining as her flaming halo grew brighter, fire bursting from her armor as well.

“You would be right, normally. I’m the shattered fragments of an ancient demon, and you’re a demon lord. You should be able to overpower me easily. Unfortunately, those desperate measures are at work,” her opponent replied with a laugh, kicking Irethiel backward and grinning. “Tell me, Phynis… what happened here, in Everium? What happened six thousand years ago?”

“Umm, me?” Phynis squeaked, her eyes wide as she shifted back a step, then swallowed and answered. “The Godsrage? I mean… something buried the capital, though we don’t know what.”

“Indeed. In fact, Demasa and Kylrius had their little showdown beneath our very feet, Irethiel. Even more interestingly, they managed to kill each other at the same time.” Avendrial’s voice was a soft purr, and she circled around Irethiel as the demon lord stepped forward uncertainly. “Because of that… time stopped. Their power froze around them, and remained there… still fighting. Until you forced Sistina to absorb their power.”

“You’re crazy, and I’ll prove it! No dungeon, not even the world tree itself, could absorb the power of two opposed gods and survive!” Irethiel snarled, her fires growing still brighter as she continued. “I held back to keep from destroying the city and all its potential slaves, but that no longer matters! You can all die!”

Irethiel’s halo blazed even brighter and wreathed her in an immense circle of flames that grew so brilliant that Phynis had no choice but to look away. But oddly she felt no fear, for when Phynis looked at Sistina’s tree, the light from the immaterial angel shone even brighter, and a curtain of silver flickered out from her hands to surround Irethiel in an instant, seemingly formed from the branches of a willow tree.

The fire within the curtain exploded with a force that could have collapsed the mountain on top of Phynis and the others, and she heard Diamond swear softly as they flinched. Yet no blast of hot air reached them, no sound of shattering stone. Only the sound of Avendrial’s laughter.

“Go ahead and try, Irethiel! Sistina, no, Marin took Demasa’s power, and the entire time we were talking, she was weaving defenses to keep you from killing those she loves. See, Marin is a protector.” Avendrial mocked the other demon, stepping into the barrier as the flame vanished around the stunned demon lord, leaving behind only the scorched earth and charred stumps within the barrier. “But while she is a protector, she also agrees with me on one tiny thing. We both want you dead.”

“Then what are you?” Irethiel asked, retreating slowly until she was almost against the curtain.

“Me? I’m vengeance incarnate. And I consumed the power of Kylrius.” Avendrial’s laughter vanished, and her eyes went dark as she tossed the sword aside, sending it spinning through the air for a moment, then plunging blade-first into the ground before Tyria, her voice as cold as a winter storm. “I don’t want to live. I died twelve thousand or more years past, and all I want is to destroy the one who killed Kathyria. Thank you for coming here, Irethiel… it gives me a chance to make things right.”

Irethiel didn’t reply; the demon lord instead attacked. Her mace slammed into Avendrial’s left arm with incredible force, shattering the armor and mangling the arm beneath it. As her opponent began to smile, Avendrial grabbed Irethiel by the throat, a smile on her face. Irethiel’s face paled again, and she began to struggle, spitting out, “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” Avendrial laughed, grinning. “You’re about to find out. Goodbye, Irethiel.”

Darkness seemed to billow out of the demon’s body like fog, and Irethiel swung for her head just as Phynis’ vision was obscured by the spreading shadows. No sound came from within, nothing but a half-sphere of darkness so deep that it gave Phynis chills to stare at it.

“What is that?” Phynis asked after a long moment, staring at the darkness.

“I have no idea…” Diamond whispered, swallowing hard before murmuring, “T-Tyria? Do you?”

“The greater gods have been forbidden from this world for a reason. That was one of the powers of Kylrius himself, called the Consuming Darkness. If Sistina had not contained it, the shadows would have frozen everything within a dozen miles, draining the essence of the living to power its spread.” Tyria spoke softly, her eyes wide as she took a deep, pained breath, bowing her head at the tree as she continued. “It appears that I chose wisely.”

Slowly the darkness began to vanish, and the interior of the curtain was very different than it had been before. The lingering fires had been extinguished and the ground was covered in a sheet of ice, along with everything else. Even Avendrial and Irethiel were covered in ice, but the halo which had crowned the demon lord’s head was gone. The barrier of light vanished, leaving behind the scene of frozen death, Irethiel’s mace pulled back for a second swing, and Avendrial’s head covered in frozen blood.

With a crunch, Avendrial’s arm shattered, and Irethiel’s body fell. On hitting the ground she shattered into thousands of shards. The other demon toppled in turn, and Phynis could only watch, her mouth open in shock as she watched the two bodies evaporate into nothing at all.

The angelic figure that was seemingly part of Sistina’s tree dissolved as well, coalescing into an orb of silver light that left the tree diminished. It drifted gently over to where the two bodies had stood and hovered there for a long, long moment. Then it took the shape of an elf, and with a flash of light Sistina stood there once more, looking down on the spots with an odd sadness to her expression.

“S-Sistina?” Phynis murmured, stepping close to her beloved, her emotions in knots from the eventful last handful of minutes. Nothing could have prepared her for what had just occurred.

“Phynis. My beloved.” Sistina’s voice was soft and measured, but she turned her head and smiled at Phynis. “It is done.”

“Yes. Yes it is… except for Sorvos. But now without his slaves,” Phynis replied softly, taking another step closer, then smiling nervously. “The question is, do we have two goddesses on our side now?”

“No. Demasa and Kylrius… their power was a shadow. The last remnants of their divine wrath,” the dryad demurred, shaking her head and looking at her hand. “I used the last of it. Made a new body, of flesh and blood. They are now gone in truth.”

“I see. I wish… I wish I could say I was sorry about that. But I like you as you are,” Phynis replied, smiling in relief as she stepped in and the dryad pulled her into a hug.

“I have a question. What is it that you intend for me?” Tyria asked, frowning. “I am beginning to remember things from before, but they are muddled, and with how my body feels, I fear that Irethiel was telling the truth.”

“Do as you will. Try to remember, and choose what is right,” Sistina replied, smiling. “Any other questions? I am… tired.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Ruby’s voice was dry but eager, and she grinned as she asked, “I did have to ask, though. You’re the world tree?”

Sistina shrugged and gave a small, gentle smile. “Apparently?”

Phynis giggled, shaking her head and teasing. “You didn’t say ‘yes’.”

The dryad stuck her tongue out at her, as Tyria watched in bemusement.

* * *

Sistina let Phynis out of her hug with one arm, pulling Ruby into the embrace as well. A moment later she giggled as first Amethyst, then the rest of the Jewels began to join in.

“Careful, I need to breathe!” Phynis cried out, to a soft, relieved chorus of laughter that comforted the dryad.

In the back of Sistina’s mind, she felt the remnants of Avendrial going back to sleep, far less restless than they’d been before. In a strange way, Avendrial had almost been like an unquiet ghost made manifest by Kylrius’ power, and slaying Irethiel had brought those memories, that part of her, a degree of closure. Similarly, Sistina could feel Marin in the back of her mind, fading into the background. But as it did, her angelic predecessor murmured softly to her.

“Live, love, and enjoy your life. For all of us.”

Sistina doubted that anyone, even Phynis or Tyria, could have understood why she smiled. Ever so softly, Sistina spoke the word she was certain the others would misinterpret. “Yes.”

That caused the laughter from Phynis and the others to ring out even more loudly, and Sistina smiled more as she leaned forward to give her Queen another kiss.

* * *

Ulvian gasped as he felt his command sigil flare with heat and begin to fade. He paled, then flushed as fury flooded him. “Those damned bastards! When I’ve absorbed her power, I will utterly annihilate them!”

Despite his fear of the consequences of his failures, the thought that Irethiel had been slain utterly enraged him. She’d been the focus of every desire he’d had for decades, the objective for which he’d sacrificed everything. He’d never wanted to use his last resort.

All around the archmage was a massive ritual circle, one which he’d spent his free time for a decade to research and build. It was complex, yes, but in part because it used what he’d learned of Irethiel’s slave brands to allow something no one had believed possible. When Irethiel perished, her power as the Demon Lord of Chains would find a new successor, a demon of the appropriate temperament. Ulvian’s circle changed that.

His circle surged to life as his brand died, reaching out along the command sigil and taking hold of the demonic mantle of power. Ulvian smiled angrily as concentric rings of crimson light surged with power, redirecting the mantle to a single target. Ulvian himself.

“Here we go!” Ulvian muttered as the power flooded into the room like a tidal wave. He’d been expecting that, though.

A dozen layers of the circle held the full power of the mantle at bay, while several began to feed power into Ulvian, streamers of immense energy that began to surge and strengthen his spirit. No mortal could survive gaining so much power all at once, but if he managed to draw it out over time… Ulvian chuckled at the thought, grinning as he felt his spirit beginning to grow stronger.

Crack!

Ulvian’s grin vanished as the adamantine outer circle suddenly fractured. The mantle surged into the gap, and more cracks began to appear all along the circle’s circumference.

“No, no, stop! I need to absorb you so I can avenge Irethiel!” Ulvian protested loudly, trying to stop the power in the only way he could, hoping for a miracle.

The power didn’t care what Ulvian was hoping for. In moments it shattered the outermost circle and threw itself against the next circle, and to his utter panic, power began to surge into him, more and more power… more than he could possibly contain, and his flesh began to burn.

Ulvian screamed in agony as another circle broke, then a third. The power was almost enough to kill him outright, but his body had strengthened just enough to make that difficult. With every passing moment the power of a demon lord strengthened Ulvian’s body and spirit, even as the power increased at a rate that would exceed his ability to hold it. The pain continued for what seemed like an eternity… until at last the power edged past Ulvian’s ability to contain it. When the Archon exploded in a ball of fire, it was almost a relief.

Kelvanath descended into panic as minutes after every slave brand in the city had vanished, the palace exploded in an eruption of brilliant crimson flames.

* * *

Death was an accountant, and the very idea made Ulvian try to suppress a snort. He should have figured, and the man pushed up his glasses, having tallied a very large number of beads on his abacus. Yet at the same time, there was an odd fire burning inside Ulvian, one that troubled him, and he shifted in his chair.

“You’ve led an interesting life, Ulvian Sorvos. One strange choice after another, and many strange obsessions. In the end, you top it off with an incredibly bad choice, and send yourself to the afterlife with nearly a thousand others,” Death told him, arching an eyebrow. “You do realize that you never could have absorbed that power and lived, yes? No mortal can contain the essence of a demon queen. You have to be a demon for it to be of any use.”

“I thought I could manage it. Obviously I was wrong. What do you want, anyway? Are you here to lecture me on my choices?” Ulvian asked sarcastically, having a hard time being friendly considering his catastrophic, painful death.

“Oh, no. Good and evil, right and wrong… those aren’t my portfolio. I just wanted to point out to you that you still have the mantle of the Demon Queen of Chains. And I feel I need to add… it’s a mantle which can only be used by women. You’re in for a very painful few days in the afterlife,” Death told him, shaking his head. “I’ll send you on your way. Good luck. You’ve got someone waiting for you.”

“Wait, what are you talking about? Can’t you send me—” Ulvian hurriedly began to ask, but the void he’d been in vanished in a blur, along with Death and the thoughts that had been prompting his question.

The world snapped back into focus in what appeared to be a rocky plain, seemingly decorated by pockets of magma, with a sky of glittering chaos and smoke above. For just an instant Ulvian looked around, stunned, before agony ripped through him.

“Augh!” he gasped, almost collapsing as it felt like his muscles were rebelling against him.

“Oh, there he is! I told you he’d be appearing out here,” a familiar female voice said from behind Ulvian, and he painfully looked over his shoulder to see the smiling face of Wenris.

To either side of her were two others he recognized, causing him to freeze in place despite his pain. On her right was Serel, the Enforcer’s face like a mask of ice, but now in full succubus form and clothing. Each step she took felt like a death sentence, and he couldn’t help but swallow. It was the man on her left that truly shocked him, though.

Jared Falgrave had been a modestly handsome man in life, but the time after his death hadn’t been kind to him. The former Adjudicator was emaciated, almost skeletal, and was wearing little more than a loincloth. His body was covered by scars on top of scars, and burns covered most of his lower body, the skin bubbled and twisted.

“That he is. I must say, this makes our bargain completely worth it. At least for me,” Jared growled, and Ulvian swallowed.

“W-wait a moment. I just died, and things are bad enough already. Please, help me get my bearings. In just a few days I’ll be good to go. We’re all on the same side, aren’t we?” Ulvian asked, looking at them nervously.

“On the same side? Were we on the same side when you ordered me to murder a woman and commit suicide?” Jared asked, baring his teeth at Ulvian. “Why would I bother helping you when I was given the chance to serve someone who actually rewards loyalty? Even as the lowest of servants it would be better than what I was experiencing before.”

“As for me? I want to torture you like you tortured me, Archon,” Serel said softly, her voice calm as ice as she smiled, running her fingers over her sword. “You could have killed me quickly. I even could have understood it. Instead you tormented me and made me into a demon. I think that very little will quench my rage.”

“Wenris, please! Your Lady gave me the directions, and sent you to help me!” Ulvian quickly appealed to the obvious leader of the group, even if he wasn’t entirely certain what she was doing here. His hopes faded as she laughed.

“Oh, Ulvian… you are rather dimwitted in some ways, aren’t you? I was a double agent for another power. She wanted someone more… suitable in Irethiel’s position, and placed me there millennia ago,” Wenris replied gently, smiling at him as she continued. “Now, I’m to reap the prize. You lost your mortal magic in your death and will have to relearn it. That means that all I have to do is extract the mantle from you.”

Her smile widened at Ulvian’s horrified look, and she added sweetly, “If you cooperate, I’ll make you a scullery maid when your transformation to a succubus is complete. What do you think?”

Ulvian froze for a moment, his mind refusing to work. And then, he desperately lunged toward the nearest pool of lava, the agony of his change roiling within him. When he didn’t make it, despair truly enveloped him.