Wicked Abyss
Page 42
But gods, the process would deplete him, would be like severing a part of himself.
Bracing himself, he envisioned ripping away the new realm. He dug into his consciousness to mentally tear at New Skye.
His breaths heaved, his muscles knotting . . . finally he perceived the total excision of the Vrekener realm. Using the last of his strength, he sealed both planes.
When he managed to open his eyes, the room tilted. I’ve erred. Spent too much magic.
Over these months, as his appearance transformed, his sense of self had grown unstable, his identity eroded. Tonight, in the midst of this upheaval, he’d reached deep into himself and altered something that equaled his very being.
Like a snapped rubber band, his mind still resounded. Pandemonia was left weakened.
Just like the king of hell.
TWENTY-SIX
Lila didn’t know if the fawn was a waking dream, a hallucination, or magic. She didn’t know why her ring had loosened right when hell was acting wonky.
But she did know that without that ring, she could now bail over the terrace edge, escaping the tower to get to Sylvan.
Would she jeopardize her life out in Pandemonia to warn her kingdom about the Møriør’s invasion?
Yes. Maybe they could evacuate or call on every Vertas ally to mount a defense. Maybe this was why Lila had been reincarnated.
All she needed was one sympathetic demon in this realm. . . . Ready to undertake this mission, she got busy.
In a blur, she ripped and tore and sewed. Not even half an hour later, she’d crafted coverings for her arms, hands, and feet out of the bedding, and a protective apron from the rug.
Once she’d completed her preparations, she changed into her dinner dress, the skirt now shortened to her knees, and fastened the rug shield over it.
Chip and Dale gazed on with curiosity. “I know how ridiculous I look,” she told them. “But desperate times . . .” She stuffed her pumps into her makeshift bag, along with her remaining fire-vine powder.
One last detail. She used ash to scribble a message on the back of Abyssian’s invitation to dinner. Then she left the note and the ring on her stripped bed.
With a final look around, she headed to the terrace railing. A fall from this height would prove deadly, but the risk didn’t deter her.
She saluted Chip and Dale, who skittered with disapproval, then swung her legs over. When she grasped the nearest vine, she gritted her teeth as she waited for the familiar pain to sear through her. . . .
Nothing! Her improvised mitts and footwear were working, protecting her from burns.
She began to climb down, picking her way among the crisscrossing tangle. Once she grew accustomed to the various strengths of the vines, she quickly descended the rest of the way.
On the ground, she wanted to scream her victory. Free! I told you I would escape, Abyssian. She would never go back to that tower. Never.
She drew her shoes out of her bag and slipped them on. After removing her mitts and rug apron, she stuffed them into the bag. They might come in handy again.
She surveyed her surroundings, spying not a single soul, nor any animals. Everything looked so different from down here. Matching landmarks against her memory, she headed along a black rock path to the lava river.
A three-way divide greeted her. Left would take her toward the sea Abyssian had spoken of. Right would take her in the direction of eternally punished demons. They couldn’t free themselves from this place much less her. Hoping for a happy medium, she chose straight, the path wending alongside the river.
She followed it for leagues, the rocky terrain turning into silvery grasslands. Wispy shrubs with razor-sharp thorns lined the trail, and the river tapered.
Still no sign of demons.
If she couldn’t find someone to teleport her, maybe she could locate the Pando-Sylvan rift. How big could hell be anyway? She’d only read estimates of its size.
After her confinement, she was eager to run. She stowed her cumbersome shoes, then took off down the trail. The farther she got from the castle, the more the skies cleared.
A full moon hung heavy in the sky, lighting her path as the prairie grasslands gave way to volcanic mounds covered with strange plant life.
I’m entering the wilds of Pandemonia.
Hell seemed eager to show Lila all its wonders. She zoomed past huge flowers with black petals, their blooms the size of satellite dishes. Giant ferns unfurled their glittering silver fronds. Dragonflies as big as eagles darted overhead. Smaller streams of lava crisscrossed each other like red-hot braids.
High in the sky, silhouettes of dragons raced across the moon.
Though completely foreign to her, this realm didn’t intimidate her. She craved hell’s wildness; it seemed to well up inside her and demand a release.
Tonight, so many aspects of Pandemonia reminded her of . . . sex. The scent of flames. The bold colors. The constant pressure, friction, and eruptions.
The lava was fiery and vivid, like Abyssian’s hypnotic skin.
Where had that thought come from?
The sky grew brighter. Tiny insects hovered in the air, each one carrying a minuscule tendril of flame, as an ant would carry a leaf.
Real fireflies! She couldn’t contain a laugh, crying, “More!”
Pandemonia obliged. Pent-up volcanoes rumbled, and the fireflies swirled.
She’d assumed the wilds of hell would be, well, hellish. Not awesome. Out here, she felt alive, her senses sparking as never before. She was brimming with energy, and her blistering speed increased even more.
Her arousal was off the charts.
She felt immortal. No, like a goddess. Confidence surged inside her—
A roar sounded, echoing over the dimension.
Abyssian.
His mate was loose. In hell.
Something had set off the spiders in Calliope’s tower, tearing him from his stupor. But she wasn’t in any of the rooms.
How had she gotten free? How? Had his protections failed during the hell manipulation? Can’t lose her again!
He traced to her bed. Beneath her ring was a message written in ash:
This round goes to me, demon. I left your castle standing (though your pride should be in rubble right about now).
C
He scented the air, but she wasn’t in the vicinity. Which meant she was likely dead.
No. Never. Never again. His claws and fangs shot longer. Control yourself, or lose her forever.
He closed his eyes, searching his realm. Searching . . .
There! He sensed her close to hell’s forest. Normally, he would use magic to secure her, but his life force was too low. He traced, appearing on a peak that overlooked the region.
Bracing himself, he envisioned ripping away the new realm. He dug into his consciousness to mentally tear at New Skye.
His breaths heaved, his muscles knotting . . . finally he perceived the total excision of the Vrekener realm. Using the last of his strength, he sealed both planes.
When he managed to open his eyes, the room tilted. I’ve erred. Spent too much magic.
Over these months, as his appearance transformed, his sense of self had grown unstable, his identity eroded. Tonight, in the midst of this upheaval, he’d reached deep into himself and altered something that equaled his very being.
Like a snapped rubber band, his mind still resounded. Pandemonia was left weakened.
Just like the king of hell.
TWENTY-SIX
Lila didn’t know if the fawn was a waking dream, a hallucination, or magic. She didn’t know why her ring had loosened right when hell was acting wonky.
But she did know that without that ring, she could now bail over the terrace edge, escaping the tower to get to Sylvan.
Would she jeopardize her life out in Pandemonia to warn her kingdom about the Møriør’s invasion?
Yes. Maybe they could evacuate or call on every Vertas ally to mount a defense. Maybe this was why Lila had been reincarnated.
All she needed was one sympathetic demon in this realm. . . . Ready to undertake this mission, she got busy.
In a blur, she ripped and tore and sewed. Not even half an hour later, she’d crafted coverings for her arms, hands, and feet out of the bedding, and a protective apron from the rug.
Once she’d completed her preparations, she changed into her dinner dress, the skirt now shortened to her knees, and fastened the rug shield over it.
Chip and Dale gazed on with curiosity. “I know how ridiculous I look,” she told them. “But desperate times . . .” She stuffed her pumps into her makeshift bag, along with her remaining fire-vine powder.
One last detail. She used ash to scribble a message on the back of Abyssian’s invitation to dinner. Then she left the note and the ring on her stripped bed.
With a final look around, she headed to the terrace railing. A fall from this height would prove deadly, but the risk didn’t deter her.
She saluted Chip and Dale, who skittered with disapproval, then swung her legs over. When she grasped the nearest vine, she gritted her teeth as she waited for the familiar pain to sear through her. . . .
Nothing! Her improvised mitts and footwear were working, protecting her from burns.
She began to climb down, picking her way among the crisscrossing tangle. Once she grew accustomed to the various strengths of the vines, she quickly descended the rest of the way.
On the ground, she wanted to scream her victory. Free! I told you I would escape, Abyssian. She would never go back to that tower. Never.
She drew her shoes out of her bag and slipped them on. After removing her mitts and rug apron, she stuffed them into the bag. They might come in handy again.
She surveyed her surroundings, spying not a single soul, nor any animals. Everything looked so different from down here. Matching landmarks against her memory, she headed along a black rock path to the lava river.
A three-way divide greeted her. Left would take her toward the sea Abyssian had spoken of. Right would take her in the direction of eternally punished demons. They couldn’t free themselves from this place much less her. Hoping for a happy medium, she chose straight, the path wending alongside the river.
She followed it for leagues, the rocky terrain turning into silvery grasslands. Wispy shrubs with razor-sharp thorns lined the trail, and the river tapered.
Still no sign of demons.
If she couldn’t find someone to teleport her, maybe she could locate the Pando-Sylvan rift. How big could hell be anyway? She’d only read estimates of its size.
After her confinement, she was eager to run. She stowed her cumbersome shoes, then took off down the trail. The farther she got from the castle, the more the skies cleared.
A full moon hung heavy in the sky, lighting her path as the prairie grasslands gave way to volcanic mounds covered with strange plant life.
I’m entering the wilds of Pandemonia.
Hell seemed eager to show Lila all its wonders. She zoomed past huge flowers with black petals, their blooms the size of satellite dishes. Giant ferns unfurled their glittering silver fronds. Dragonflies as big as eagles darted overhead. Smaller streams of lava crisscrossed each other like red-hot braids.
High in the sky, silhouettes of dragons raced across the moon.
Though completely foreign to her, this realm didn’t intimidate her. She craved hell’s wildness; it seemed to well up inside her and demand a release.
Tonight, so many aspects of Pandemonia reminded her of . . . sex. The scent of flames. The bold colors. The constant pressure, friction, and eruptions.
The lava was fiery and vivid, like Abyssian’s hypnotic skin.
Where had that thought come from?
The sky grew brighter. Tiny insects hovered in the air, each one carrying a minuscule tendril of flame, as an ant would carry a leaf.
Real fireflies! She couldn’t contain a laugh, crying, “More!”
Pandemonia obliged. Pent-up volcanoes rumbled, and the fireflies swirled.
She’d assumed the wilds of hell would be, well, hellish. Not awesome. Out here, she felt alive, her senses sparking as never before. She was brimming with energy, and her blistering speed increased even more.
Her arousal was off the charts.
She felt immortal. No, like a goddess. Confidence surged inside her—
A roar sounded, echoing over the dimension.
Abyssian.
His mate was loose. In hell.
Something had set off the spiders in Calliope’s tower, tearing him from his stupor. But she wasn’t in any of the rooms.
How had she gotten free? How? Had his protections failed during the hell manipulation? Can’t lose her again!
He traced to her bed. Beneath her ring was a message written in ash:
This round goes to me, demon. I left your castle standing (though your pride should be in rubble right about now).
C
He scented the air, but she wasn’t in the vicinity. Which meant she was likely dead.
No. Never. Never again. His claws and fangs shot longer. Control yourself, or lose her forever.
He closed his eyes, searching his realm. Searching . . .
There! He sensed her close to hell’s forest. Normally, he would use magic to secure her, but his life force was too low. He traced, appearing on a peak that overlooked the region.
