The Attuned

An excerpt from a novel I'm working on, written by R. Raven

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The group land, some rougher and the girls, notably, all on their feet right within the bounds of the castle. It feels more domineering now. Darker. Like you would expect someone to pull out an entire string section to play something foreboding just glancing it.

They had stepped through the entry way, that has a grand staircase looping up to a shadowy balcony-- quite like Valeria's. The ground is made of stone and yet still groans beneath the shifting feet. The air is thick with gloom and decay, a large feasting table in the middle of the ground floor is covered in something that looks too much human, goblets filled with dregs of clots and rimmed with the red wine of blood red. The chairs are scraped back, like they had made a hasty exit.

They don't linger, nor in the next room, much more angular than the rocky, dripping tunnels they're forced through, with proper walls, a grated floor, and a barred ceiling that let in thin slats of light through from above. It was mostly empty, although there were metal poles running the length of the walls. Eloise looked over the chained prisoners that they would free when there wasn't the looming threat of attack, but she can only imagine the appeasing gaze Moloch and his lickspittles wear, and it makes her bristle. It was as though they were cattle to this man, brute beasts at a market, and he was deciding upon the choicest ones for slaughter.

They continue stalking down the many winding halls of the keep. Valeria led the rabbel, the path she took through the maze of hallways and rooms was one well known to her, light becoming scarce and the abundance of cobwebs and dust increasing the further the demon ventured into the massive keep. There's wallpaper though peeled, made of red furs and lamps with no wicks, which at least offers some idea that they're in the right place aside the live human stock in the cellar.

They maneuver over uneven terrain and bramble thats growing from the broken wing of the castle to reach the place where Eloise and Valeria had been previously attacked-- their attackers bodies still lay there. Undisposed. Uncared for. Its' sad, and twisted, and Eloise tries not to focus on the smell of it. She kisses the pendant of her necklace, instead, the only thing she has that brings kindness into this damned plane.

Valeria lights the torches lining the walls, bathing the courtyard in an eerie mix of reds and shadows.

The fortress of Hell is a fine castle, built with a panorama of the surrounding land. From the towers once stood medieval watchers, quiver and arrow ready to fly. Steadfast walls were built for defence in an age that was defined by jealousy, greed and the love of power as much as honour, nobility and loyalty to the crown. Past the iron gates that trapped would-be intruders, lives of servitude were eked, safe from battle-axe and ballista alike. This castle stood to inspire awe in a realm run on deference to royalty, to title and social status. From cloistered rooms land parcels were given to lords for promised service.

In times when "technology" meant wood, string and metal armoury, the expectation of comfort was reserved for just a few. It was a world of subsistence living for all but the mighty who guarded their kingdoms of tax payers. So long as they sang the right songs of protection, of greatness, of manifest destiny- they would grow rich for generations to come. So when Eloise, orphaned and sheltered's eyes befall the grandeur of the weather-beaten stone and ears tune to the wind in the trees, it is an ode to the selfishness of genes she hears. Whispering in the grasses are tales of peoples set against one another in war by a rebellion perpetually enriched by the conflict.

One cannot lift stones such as these without a great deal of heart, and so this castle speaks not of kings, but of the workers of the vale. The old ruins at the shire's heart have walls of stone still true and tall; and with a little love and effort, it could be a home once more.

Eloise is reading the inscription on one of the large stones, worn from time.

There is light, noble dark and dark. There are angels, angel-monsters and monsters. The first two are yin and yang to one other and are the servants of God, The Ancient One. The last, the monsters, are servants of the devil, of Satan.

Lovely. The trembling nerves and hairs standing up on pale goose-flesh were not.

"I remember the day Hell became it," Valeria says off-handedly, scouring the grounds for anything of importance. "I was an angel. We all were. But my great-grandfather, Lucifer, decided to rebel. It forced all creatures of dark stature down to the barren wasteland of earths core, where nothing could survive the heat."

She shoots Felix a withering glare as he sketches the sun dial Eloise had been fascinated by earlier into his notepad. Leave it to him to find beauty in the darkness.

"That hardly sounds fair." Flora muses, fingers gliding across an intricate Gargoyle carved into the face of a pillar.

"It wasn't. But we made it our own. In the shade." Pach cuts in, puffing his chest proudly. Eloise blinks at that, forcing herself to remember that Pach is the evil equivalent of a Christmas elf, when they're both pointing things out to each other.

Flora speaks, like she's retelling a story from one of her books as she whirls around in place, "The fort had been built to defend against the raiders, of those whom came with cold hearts to wield cold metal. We laid these stones with love. We built arrows strong and true. We built our armour to defend. And so we fight with the hearts of a lion pride and pray we will prevail."

Valeria smiles at her.

Wethvan is slinging his bag off, pulling out black charcoal that immediately clings to his fingers. He starts to draw some form of pentagram on the stoney ground, but it's two overlapping stars with a circle at the five points, big enough for each member of the ritual to stand on. Eloise tilts her head in curiosity. "I thought Pentagrams were Wiccan, ,not satanic?"

Wethvan nods, "Correct, A+, Miss Faraday!' Valeria makes a noise of exasperation in her throat. Eloise and Flora grin. "They're used across a wide variety of religions. To us, today, it symbolizes the elements," He begins on the points of the stars. "Earth, water, air, fire, " He puncuates with a sharp scratch of the charcoal. The charcoal stabs at the point at the top of the star, "Spirit," he says. Looks up, with that rare seriousness that strikes a chord deep within Eloise-- like a child being scolded, or a secret being sworn to secrecy.

And it's her favourite people, and it's adventure. It's so familiar, as if they're still telling secrets and trading lip gloss and passing notes in study hall. Except the secrets aren't the harmless currency of childhood anymore. It's a declaration of war.

"For the creatures we fight for. The Changelings, the Halflings, the Wolves of Ossary, the demons, the humans."

The charcoal pentagram flashes white before disappearing, just as there's a blanket of dark, thick smoke that fills the courtyard, Moloch stepping out from its cover with obsidian eyes gleaming against the harsh reds of his world.

"Isn't this ever so sweet?"

Moloch strides forward with an air of authority accomplished from a lifetime of ruling, his mouth pulled up into a sinister grin. Azerith and the headmaster are flanked on either side, more and more demons, dark elves and vampires appearing in a dark smog that lingers around them.

The king comes to a stop in front of Eloise, but Valeria quickly sidesteps and pushes her back with her shoulder, his dark eyes narrowing at her in disgust, spitting his words, "Ah, my prodigal daughter has returned. I'm glad you called ahead-- I was able to call everyone for the reunion."

Eloise's eyes snap around rabidly in search of the staff among the fleet of black, but it's either not there or it's being hidden. Eloise deflates, looking to Wethvan worriedly. He mouths for her to kill time for him to finish the ritual circle, discreetly slipping the femur and butterfly wings to the two smaller men to place in the circle.

On the hilt of her dagger Valeria's hands are tense, knuckles white under her thin skin. In the offset colours of the sky her eyes are glinting mahogany and her brow is tight with anger and Eloise can't stop looking.

She hears Moloch chuckle, and turns to look at him. But he's already looking at her, and this time, she doesn't succumb to the calling spell of his gaze. He seems to realize this, as well as the glinting gold of the necklace peeking out from her armour. She tilts her neck up to keep his interest, noticing Pach slipping between Flora's legs to place the butterflies down where she stands.

"Isn't that ever so adorable! Our dearest Valeria has found a mate!" He parts his hands, the roaring snickering an ugly cacophony in the courtyard. "I suppose as is law in duelling of your plebeian land, we must negotiate peace. I am nothing if not a merciful God."

Wilmer, finished with the femur, scoffs, "You're no god of mine."

Azaerith groans. "I told you this one is a nuisance."

Eloise ignores them both. "What is your offer?"

Valeria looks at her wide eyed, like she's lost her mind, but Moloch is giddy at the prospect. He claps his hands excitedly.

"I offer you my blood," The demon king declares with a flourish, and Valeria stumbles at the impact of his words like every drop of blood her body possessed evaporated. "Take it and walk as a lion among sheep, men will fear your approach, and you will never fear death again. You will rule alongside me. Valeria is welcome to join." An evil glint in his eyes, the king stops pacing to stand before the human, hands folded behind his back.

Eloise could feel dozens of eyes on her. Like she were about to brandish a knife and slit her own throat to sign her death warrant.

She already had the power to displace him. But he refused to step down-- he would rather spread his blood, volatile and poisonous like his twisted psyche, then die according to Demonic law.

The court in an uproar of whispers ranging from awe to outrage all around them, the king's daughter fixes her oblivious father with a glare.

He was focused so intensely on Eloise, and she summoned whatever strength she could to not flinch under his unyielding dark eyes. All other distractions were nothing but background noise, not even the muttering she knew he hated so. Valeria was vibrating practically, her claws tearing through her hands.

She would let him wait, like she had to among the bodies of her family.

Moloch took notice of this, the deceptively polite smile he wore transforming into a scowl. The court was quiet as a graveyard after the single withering glare he gave them.

With bated breath, the creatures of Hell awaited the human's answer.

"And why would I wish to join the man that killed my family?" Eloise spoke at last, her voice even and firm despite the many pairs of hungry eyes boring into her.

Several members of the court, mostly women, gasped aloud as if were a personal offense.

No longer smiles and manners, Moloch bared his fangs, hissing softly. "Then you will be prey, like all mortals."

What a hit that must have been to that insufferable ego of his, Eloise would have loved to throw her head back and laugh. But Pach and Wilmer are spreading different crushed stones and materials around the circle and she can't draw attention to them.

"Perhaps you need more convincing!" He roared, taking a menacing step forward.

The group promptly took a step back, most likely feeling the sinister pulse of magic that washed off of him along with Eloise. It had her skin crawling, a genuine spark of fear bringing her heart to life as the man doubled over. She had watched this once before- but not so close. Not in such disturbed glory.

With sickening pops of his skeleton, Moloch was engulfed in an inky blackness. His own scarlet blood mixed with the shadows, pouring outward from the center of his chest to mingle with the darkness until what was left was a mass in the amorphous shape of a man. Releasing an ear-splitting screech, the hellish form of the King of Hell took shape, spraying black liquid in all directions.

Eloise flinched, shrinking behind the stoic figure of her girlfriend. But when a single drop of blood splattered across her cheek, the demon jerked as well, alarm in her eyes. She stood rigid, taking in the cursed creature that had exploded into existence with apparent shock. Her transformation wasn't such gore.

Eloise growled low. This man killed her father. Her brother. Would kill her friends and herself for his own sick enjoyment. She felt her magic pulse against her mark, spreading through her body like a fever.

Hastily lifting the heel of her hand to her cheek, the human wiped away the stray drop of blood, collecting herself with a sharp breath.  "Moloch. Go fuck yourself."

For a terrifying moment, Eloise expected  the man to lunge at her. He did not, though his response was ten times as terrifying than what she had expected of him.

Strangely calm, a placid look on his face, Moloch's feet lifted from the floor. The two leathery wings on his back stretched, as if catching the air to keep himself hovering upright. A muscular red arm stretched outward, a churning ball of purple energy licking between wine-colored fingers

"So be it." Moloch rumbled, closing his fist around the swirling energy and sending it flying with an ear-splitting pang, forcing a shield around the courtyard that the group could not escape.

They were grossly outnumbered, ten to one. For every one of them, there were fifteen of Moloch's court waiting, salivating at the chance of killing one of the light-side.

Eloise looks to her friends; Felix and Flora are both in their wolf forms, Wilmer has two small tornadoes at the ready, Pach is forming waves, and Wethvan has a bow and arrow at the ready. She looks to Valeria, but she's already looking back at her with a small smile.

The words are stuck on Eloise's tongue. She thinks of Valeria's hands reaching through her armour, skin and bone and setting her ablaze , it's beyond belief. They've entered the twilight zone, no repercussions. This is all just a story-- a horror story. She manages to mouth an I love you, before all hell breaks loose.

Moloch stands atop the watchtower now, his smile gone and something menacing in place. He snaps his fingers, and several students Eloise has known since she had gotten to the school step out of the shadows, and there are so many more of them then she thought, all senseless and staring blankly at her, who's hands spark with the same form of magic Valeria's does. Moloch is singing the same song from the first day-- their song--, low and baritone across the storm that kicks up once more.

It's a cold day in hell.

The twins are fast-- ripping through lesser powerful soldiers like rag dolls, tossing their lifeless bodies out of the battlement where they're set aflame from the barrier. Wilmer and Pach work together to combat the fire with water spouts that sweep through the bodies like bowling pins. There's a rhythmic chk-shoo of an arrow being spearheaded into one of their adversaries, dropping beneath the feet of creatures that trample the wounded. Eloise faces a herd of dark elves, forming firebolts in one palm that sear through those further, and spearing her dagger through the flesh of foes that get too close. Eloise vaguely sees the headmaster darting around in a blur of black and blonde.

Curses continued to shoot past them; the blinding colours coming faster, more chaotic as the king's men realized they were falling too rapidly to survive this. They were undeniably going to be killed but their fear was affecting their aim. The curses and elements missed, hit the walls, the stone, the ceiling instead of their targets. There was an audible crunch, a sickening squishing sound as their bones and organs were crushed under the force of Felix tearing another person apart.

Her attention is drawn to Flora, in her human form and grappling with Wilmer who uses Soul Tear to draw her lifeform from her.

"What are you doing?"The wolf manages to choke out, using all her strength to kick the smaller man off of her.

He goes sliding across the courtyard, foot and hand on the gravel that tears his skin to the bone. He doesn't pay it any mind, rushing Flora again who barrels out of the way

"Yes, Mr Pine, stop this at once!!" Wethvan says, notching another arrow that he sets aflame and sends spearing between a warlocks eyebrows that goes to stab Flora.

The headmaster steps away from the man with the stolen walking stick between her hands. She cursed him.

"No, stop." Valeria throws her arm out to stop the encroaching heard of her friends. Her next breath comes out unsteady, "Those are the eyes of a fae. He's possessed. Wilmer is gone."

Flora knocks him unconscious, laying him down out of the line of fire somberly.

Wilmer is too good for this world. Eloise has watched him meander through life, catching all the breaks like butterflies, always ending up okay even in the face of peril. It was as if he were invincible to the constant mental turmoil Eloise felt every time she woke up, as if his head was just full of those same butterflies, happily batting their wings as he studied. Still, he'd offered the orange from his plate every day, and had followed her to hell. He'd given, Wilmer always gives.

And now he was taken.

Eloise felt blood. Blood like a river, blood like a storm, blood like a plague of fucking Egypt.

In her mind, Eloise thought about the ugly, grotesque tendrils of a demonic hatred squirting out of the headmaster's arms, chest, her face and mouth. How no amount of reason or affection from her friends and most trusted ones could get through to her. The only release from her madness was the kiss of death.

"Haha! Ive been wanting to do that for years!" The headmaster gleefully says.

A low whistle cut the air, a noise so slight only a dog's ears could detect its approach.

"Ggh!" Blood drowned the woman's voice as it flooded her pierced throat, her body collapsing to the stone. The elder vampire whirled around on his heels with his teeth already bared to the new threat.

Eloise wheeled around, her eyes clouded with tears and misery seeing Wethvan lowering his bow.

"That's for not giving me a raise last year, bitch."

Azarieth was standing across the courtyard, twin balls of Call of Soul Tear in her hands.

Her predatory gaze swept around the nearly pitch-black surroundings before scanning her dead comrade, not looking bothered in the slightest. She looks a little bit like she's enjoying the gore staining the grounds. A small silver bolt was lodged into her jugular, eyes open and unblinking. Azareith, with her god forsaken sunglasses, turns to look at her with the same grin permanently etched on her face.

"El, I got this one," Valeria's lilting voice broke her chain of thoughts, so with a small huff Eloise looked up at her girlfriend.

"You can hit her, but I wont stand idle after all she's done."

Valeria looks like she wants to argue, but doesn't. "Okay."

The dark elf is still standing in that strangely insufferable, casual stance.

Eloise watched, a little numb, as Azareith immediately resumed her attacking without hesitation, not even when Eloise lifts her palms to use necromancy on a gargoyle does she stop, the stone beast suddenly exploding to life with an ear-splitting shriek and a shower of stones. The creature didn't hesitate as it lunged for the dark elf, who raised her ebony blade positioned sideways to reflect the powerful swipe it threw.

Valeria's ice spike lodged itself into the dark elf's back as the gargoyle's clawed hands reached for the woman, a wonderful distraction from the demon who pushes a wave of fire into Azareith's back, forcing a loud shriek of pain from the woman that rivals the gargoyle.

It rounded on the dark elf, ready to charge her instead of attacking from behind, but Valeria took advantage of the diversion. The dark elf was made quick work of by a single stab of Valeria's dagger, straight through her chest between the plates of her armour.

Emitting a final howl of defeat,  Eloise watched as her creation erupted in cracks, and then crumbled to a pile dust right before her.

Azareith did much the same, her skin spider-webbing like damaged porcelain. Valeria tugged her dagger free, a downward tilt to her brow as she watches the life flee from who she considered her best friend. Then, the dark elf burst into flames, that dwindled to nothing but embers among ash.

Eloise moved across the fray, eyeing the pile of ash as Valeria crouched, her free hand sifting through the rubble. Eloise observed the process without question, not surprised to see the demon retrieve a sparkling gem from the dust. The demon waved her hand over it, and the stunning jewel lengthened into the broad sceptre, before rising.

"It's a sentient weapon my father managed to fashion with alchemy." Valeria says, a little stunned and swaying. Eloise gets the sense she's not talking about the sceptre's transmutation, but the grey remainder of her friend.

"Fascinating, but also very terrifying. Moloch had always been scarily inventive. The fact that he likely has dozens of these monsters stashed all throughout his keep, not to mention the realm, is even more terrifying." Wethvan jogs over, his eyes frantic as he looks around like Moloch was about to burst into the empty space, littered with his fallen court. "We've got to get the ritual going-- quick."

"How?" Felix asks, also in his human form and dripping in a mix of warm blood and sweat. He waves to where Flora remains crouched near Wilmer's unconscious body, wearing a grim expression. "We're down a man."

"No, we're not." Valeria murmurs. Her grip is white around the sceptre. "I'll do it."

Eloise whirls on her, "No, you fucking will not!"

Wethvan motion for the rest of the group to get into position, leaving the two women to speak in relative silence.

In some ways, she's existed within Eloise since the day they met. It would be too offhand to say she's in her heart when Valeria is in her marrow, in the very blood of her being. She's not the kind of girl who changes your life; she's the person who changes you for knowing her.

She pauses to take a deep breath, looks up in an attempt to stop the tears rapidly pooling in her eyes, but its no use. They fall endlessly, Valeria's thumbs wet from them but she doesn't stop rubbing soothing circles against her cheekbones.

Valeria takes Eloise's wrist with a constant gentle touch, unfurling her fingers to place the red jewel into her grip.

"I'll see you on the other side, little rabbit."

It's hard to stay mad at someone, she thinks, when they're wearing scuffed black dress shoes that make you feel sad inside. Taking a moment longer to glance dolefully at the mortal, Valeria moved toward the ritual circle.

Eloise feels like they're on hold, waiting for the bombshell to fall, sitting on the line listening to terrible muzak, standing at the train station but not getting on board.

Eloise moves somberly to her spot just within the boundaries of the ritual circle. Flora on her left, Valeria on her right. Wethvan takes the top peak the star, Felix to his left and Pach on his right. They're fiddling where they stand.

"Moloch." Eloise growls out, summoning the man, trying to locate the creature in the inky darkness. There's shifting about the ledge above her, the creak of hinges meaning a door opened.

"Sorry about not participating. I've always enjoyed watching the fruit of my labour from afar." The King called from the ledge that he jumps down from, directly into the middle of the star. It doesn't light up yet, not until Wethvan gives the go ahead. Moloch nudges the charred, headless corpse that Eloise thinks might belong to a Far Darrig with the toe of his boot,  humming. "It's hard to find good help. Perhaps instead of killing you I can put you to work."

The flickering light cast unflattering shadows over his sharp features, and his sunken, soulless gaze bore into the human so intensely she felt her nerves shiver. He stood over the fallen body of someone he knew, someone who had worshipped him, like they were nothing.

Eloise glared with what fire she had left. She was outraged, leaving no room for terror to run rampant within her.

"You send your men to die. You sentence them to your whims."

The man rolls his eyes, drawling, "I used to lay traps for animals when I was a child. I put honey into glasses for the flies, or dug holes in the woods for badgers or foxes. It was good sport: a hunter with all his brains and skills pitted against the unmindful prey. Even an empty snare was not a failure, merely another step of the challenge. It was good fun."

Eloise swallows thickly, unfurling her palm and watching as the gem turns into the staff.

"You have my staff." He lifted his sword, the tip of its blade scratching against the stone floor beneath them. With a quick lunge of his wrist, it's sheathed within the body of the headless soldier. "No matter." A sickening schik sounded as the king reclaimed his ebony blade from the chest of the soldier, splatters of red dotting the uneven stone around the corpse. His eyes narrow into slats at the glimmer of Eloise's blade. "And you've paid a visit to my whore of a wife."

As soon as she touched the ball of the staff, little spikes rose and pierced through her hand, a blast of dark energy pulsated from the object. It didn't affect Valeria or her friends; they'd thought ahead, or wore some type of charm to prevent them from the effects of the staff. Or maybe it was just against anyone other than Moloch trying to wield it.

Eloise was not so fortunate.

"Fire!" Wethvan shouts, and the ritual circle lights up. The group lift their palms as one, thrusting forward to form a constant source of power. Streams of blue, white, green and red are burning into the mans skin.

It felt like two ends of a tide were trying to drown her, dark and good, like the imposing maw of an alligator. Her eyes watered, her breath coming out in huge chest shaking pants. The entire back of her head throbbed in agony as something like her magic had grown a voice began screeching and clawing in tandem with her. Red welts were forming from where her nails were doing everything in her power to remove the offending object.

The ritual was biding her time, and so she used the leverage of the staff to stand, keeling over a few times before being able to stand straight. Moloch watches her angrily, twin balls of red light in his hands. "What is this?"

Eloise smiles around the pool of blood in her mouth. "Don't enjoy being tortured, Moloch?"

He lets out a ear-splitting growl, black magic radiated from the red balls in his palms in a searing flash, exploding from it with a force so powerful it knocked Eloise and Felix into the air, breaking the entrapment spell. She hissed when her skull connected with the wall behind her. Was sure she could feel blood at the back of her head.

The dark magic from the blast seemed to seep into her skin. She shivered against the foreign entity as it crept up her body like ice water. Dark magic tended to do that; the violent, repugnant brand of magic always left the victim cold, feeling like their heart was turning to ice, their breath visible and frozen as though they were standing in the middle of a blizzard - like it was turning them into a corpse.

Eloise touched her temples. There was a violent ringing in her ears, and her vision was blurred as she watched the fuzzy shapes of three of her friends sending twisting spikes of colour at the man to slow him down. Valeria was gone, and Felix's stream of power was as well.

"El!" Felix called through the high-pitched ringing.

She sat up and squinted, trying to focus on the sound of his voice. He was on the floor, hand pressed to his shoulder and blood pouring from his ear, but he was alive. Wounded. Pale, and visibly shaking. But alive, nonetheless. Luckily they had two earth elementals, and him being incapacitated didn't break the complete entrapment even without the help of the circle.

Valeria kneeled down in front of her, eyes flickering worriedly over her. "Are you okay?"

Eloise nods.

She breathed a sigh of relief and tried to stop Eloise from forcing herself to her feet, who ignored the way her muscles screamed in protest as she stumbled forward toward Moloch.

His strange other-worldly voice echoed throughout the courtyard, a visible ripple of power crashing into Valeria who jumps in front of Eloise to protect her. Her dagger was flung from her grip, swallowed into the shadows with a clang as the King pulled himself upright.

The other corpses had begun rising in response to the disturbance, reaching for their weapons and grasping them in lifeless hands. Overcoming the loss of her own blade, the demon scrambled to avoid the swipe of her fathers massive great sword.

"Take care of the others, I will get rid of Moloch!" Eloise heard Valeria shout above her as she jumps into the air to chase after her father, already letting loose a firebolt that impaled itself into the skull of the nearest risen with a crunch.

The group did as they had been ordered, picking off each stumbling target one after the other as they hobbled toward her. Above her, she heard the hiss of what sounded like fire, and the thudding footsteps of the risen. Only Moloch remained, keeling over and gripping a bloody wound. Eloise thinks she could breathe-- until there's a clicking noise, the sun dial groaning as it shifts, runes lighting up beneath their feet.

They had walked into his trap.

"Move back. Those are electrical currents."

Valeria jumps down from the shadows, throwing an arm out, forcing the group to stumble over corpses to reach the safety of the stairs.

"You all need to leave."

Eloise scoffs, "No I'm not leaving-"

Flora grabs at Eloise, her eyes silently begging Eloise to go to where they could be safely evacuated. The barrier around them is gone, and they could easily return to the surface if they're quicker than Moloch.

"Come on Ellie, let's go! We can't win this!" Felix says, "Were not strong enough, Wilmer's dead, and you're injured!"

Valeria turns to her. "Do you trust me?"

Eloise tries a smile, and winces when it comes out like a grimace. "As far as I can throw you."

Valeria laughs, but blocks a spell cast from Eloise with her back. Her wings sizzle and she winces. "Just one more time, trust me and go."

"What about you?"

"I'm the first daughter of Hell. I'm the only one that can withstand them."

Eloise nods. "You're not killing him. Just wear him down, okay? I'm not losing you too."

Wethvan ushers the group out, just as Moloch stands. His hands twitch with fire, sending fireball after fireball, and Valeria takes the brunt of it.  Her wings were near iridescent, and the same leathery texture of one's a bat would have. But these were curled ominously at the ends, looking as if they were welting and corroding away. Scorch marks lay in the skin of them.

Valeria throws a hand up, and the pavement around them crackles as a wave of power surges through it and rubble going flying every which way. The king is struck aside, but gets back to his feet.

The fabric of the courtyard was deprave and derelict. Valeria is limping, pointing the staff-- fuck! She had grabbed it from Eloise's pocket, who watches frantically as Moloch hisses, ducking into the shadows of the keep. Valeria goes to follow.

"Valeria! No!" Eloise screamed from over Felix's shoulder, the boy holding her back. "Wait for me! Just wait and I'll come with you!"

"Stand down, Eloise," she commanded over her shoulder, her own voice croaking as she fought off a scream from the stabbing pain behind her skull. Eloise could guess she had a skull fracture; possible swelling in her brain. She would need Ophelia to examine her if she ever got back to the base. "I'm not risking anyone else getting hurt because of me. Stay there and stay safe. I'll come back for you."

She shouted something in response, probably yelled for her to come back. Valeria was already rounding the dark corridor after her father, too far gone to hear her girlfriends wails.

Eloise can hear the hissing of magic. She counts, trying to measure her breathing in time with the unsteady rise and fall of her chest.

10.

9.

8.

7.

6...

Felix is knocked to the side in a ball of fur with Wilmer, risen, wrestling him down, Flora and Pach trying to help get the possessed man off.

Valeria appeared again in a cloud of black smoke, her father following quickly after. He's raising the staff-- pointing at Eloise, who bites into her tongue, resigned to her fate. But then Valeria dismissed her magic, jumping far too quickly just in time for Eloise to see the woman take the blast. She uses the wind to summon the sceptre into her waiting hand, blasting her fathers head clean from his skeletal shoulders with a flame-veiled sceptre. The undead creature sunk to its knees, weapon clattering to the stone and charred, disembodied head rolling.

Eloise tried to stop the relief from creeping into her chest. Tried to stop herself from smiling, watching the King fall.

They did it. They survived this. Both of them.

Finally, Eloise allowed the elation to rise, hugging the girl pressed to her front. Unable to stop the sound from passing her smiling lips. She was safe, with Valeria.

They were safe.

But Eloise wasn't focused on that. She was too busy holding Valeria in her arms.

Valeria, who had stepped in front of Eloise when the king had cast a killing curse in a last-ditch attempt at revenge before he was killed.

Valeria, whose chest had taken the violent red hex that'd slipped from the sceptre before she had grabbed it. A thrusting power of Hell blood. It poisoned her.

Valeria, who now lay dead in Eloise's arms.