Death woke with a cold sweat. He’d had no dream or nightmare, but for the whole of his sleep he was conscious, staring into the dark of his eyelids, unable to wake.

  Thank the gods, he thought. I thought I’d been trapped within the Dark Void, or worse, sealed for a second time.

  He sat on the edge of the bed. Snow was nowhere to be seen. The door was slightly ajar, not how Death remembered it being when he went to sleep. He stretched his arms above his head, feeling the soreness even deeper in his shoulder-blades and spine. Then he stretched his stiff neck, moaning in pleasure as the tension faded away with each small crack.

  My body is still mortal. I never suffered with this during the first conquest I did… or maybe I did. I barely have any memories of it. I don’t see any reason why my brain would remember injuries and nothing else.

  He picked up his black shirt from where he’d tossed it. It stunk of stale sweat and a tiny, lingering scent of old blood. He dropped it and kicked it the corner with a single toe.

  Outside of his room, everyone was asleep on the couches. Rica, Ash, Morgudeion, Moleira, all snoring like it was a competition.

  He pressed his ear to the wall of Beion’s doorway, hearing faint noises of Vera giggling and Beion being short of breath.

  Death stopped and stared at a wide family painting of the Flames hung on the wall, guarded by a silver frame. It shown Ashlereina sat on a block of stone, a young Beion and Aleirica on each knee; a juvenile Aleion with a devilish smile, holding the spiked ball of the chain attached to his palm; a teenage Deilon, at her other shoulder, wearing a black robe with his arms tucked behind it. Morgudeion was not in the image.

  I wonder if I would’ve tolerated those two idiots had I not killed them both. I doubt that I would’ve.

  The pulsing pain of the Dark Void struck him again. He grabbed onto a nearby set of drawers, knocking over an empty vase which shattered by his foot. None of the flames woke from the noise, so Death allowed himself to make noises to endure the suffering.

  Once done, he heard steel against steel coming from outside the home. He walked to the door, leaning on the wall and limping. Once in the yard, he relied on a fence to keep him steady. He took heavy breaths, watching Vunadeira and Snow sparring with blunt swords in an open area with a gravel floor.

  “Good footing!” Vuna yelled. “Better than that mess you were when we started! Keep your eyes up, don’t look at your feet; watch my stance for any signs of my next attack.”

  She took her sparring sword in a two-handed grip and predicted Vuna’s next strike. With all her might, she disarmed him, but Vuna refused to admit he had his grip purposefully loose.

  Death gave a weak clap. Snow had a sparkle in her eyes as she dropped her sword in excitement, rushing to him and hugging his neck as tight as she could.

  “Did you see that? I’m getting better!” she squealed, shaking in happiness. “I’ll be fighting with you before you know it!”

  Vuna locked the gate to the sparring area and stroked a curious sheep as he sat on a stool nearby.

  “What’ve you been feeding the lady?” he asked. “She’s got a long way to go, but she hits like a warrior! She learns faster than I can teach, faster than my son. I got her grip proper, taught her how to do a friendly spar, taught her some basic footwork so she won’t fall flat on her arse trying to parry or dodge. I reckon she’ll best any bandit you put her against.”

  “I’ll crush all the bandits!” she declared. “I’m already a force to be reckoned with! Didn’t I mention I killed a dragon?”

  “Many times,” Vuna chuckled. “Each time you lost your sword, you’d use it like a shield to prove you weren’t weak.”

  “You’d say it all the time too if you’d killed one.”

  “How long have you been doing this for?” Death grunted. “All things considered, I feel I got a full rest.”

  “Five hours,” Snow giggled. “I didn’t sleep much. I laid with you for a long while, watching you snore and playing with your hair, then thought I’d get some training in to make you proud of me!”

  “Be proud of the lady,” Vuna said. “She’s fierce. I look forward to our next session of training.”

  “Aw… are we done already?”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Yes. I must get back to my own father soon enough. I sacrificed my rest to train you, now you must find your own practice.”

  As if on command, a thud caught their attention—a two-headed hound had climbed over the yard’s wall, scavenging for scraps. It was plump, muscly, a tail like a lizard.

  “Speak of the demon! Get some practice,” Vuna roared. “Kill the bastard, take off both heads!”

  “Aw… but it’s just a little puppy.”

  The hound snarled with both mouths and grew closer.

  “Hmph,” Snow continued. “Little puppy is naughty. Fine. We can take him back to Valan and cook him up for breakfast!”

  She summoned Firedick and held it with both hands.

  “Remember what I taught you,” Vuna said. “Your opponent has no weapon. Use a one-armed grip, use the other to protect the rest of you.”

  She did what he the demon said. The whelp lunged and bit down on Snow’s arm with two maws. She remained focused through the pain and twisted her whole body, slamming the hound into the floor and cutting off the head that had her wrist, then drove the blade up into the dog’s ribcage, piercing the heart and killing it.

  She rolled down her thick sleeve and saw dozens of punctures in her skin, tightening her fist and gritting her teeth. “I need a cloth to wrap this with,” she groaned. “This’ll take a while to heal.”

  Death rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He waited for Snow to put her arm into his expectant hand. “A small injury costs barely a thing for me to gift to you.”

  Her arm healed. Death licked his thumb and wiped the blood off her skin. She gave him a kiss in gratitude, rubbing her head against his neck afterward.

  “Are you a healer?” Vuna asked. “A human who can heal?”

  “Yes,” Death half-lied. “It’s a magic I taught myself long ago. I can heal at a small cost to myself. Nothing too extreme.”

  “Isn’t he amazing?” Snow purred. “And he’s all mine.”

  “Go inside, Snow,” Death ordered. “Take the body of the hound and put in the back of our wagon, wherever Beion stashed it. I wish to have a conversation with the demon, then we shall be leaving for Valan.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Death invited Vunadeira to a table in the corner of the yard, away from all ears.

  “You wish for a moment alone?” Vuna asked suspiciously. “If I offended you—”

  “You stare at me like you have questions. Ask them.” He tapped an impatient finger against the table. “I dislike being stared at when I don’t know the reason for it.”

  Vunadeira explained his and his sister’s conversation involving the succubus from the night before.

  “I wouldn’t take any deals with that whore,” Death advised. “I will kill her the moment I see her.”

  “Let us hope we find a solution on the path there.” Vuna stood and declared the conversation finished. “My nephew will travel with you, I hear. Look after him. He is only doing so because he wants to appear as a powerful as Moleira. He sadly will never be. Demons are born with the max strength they’ll ever have.”

  “I don’t think that’s entirely true,” Death joked. “But worry not. I will take care of the little demon. He is useful.”

  Vuna disappeared into the home for a moment, returning with a long-sleeved coat of leather and a shirt of brown linen. “The flames have no other human clothing. It will fit you.”

  Death put the clothes on without saying a word. They fit well, surprisingly, and were too his liking. He offered the demon a firm handshake.

  “I will return to Valan now,” Death said. “My next goal is to kill Godwin Valan. Afterwards, I will march to Naveen with the Kans as my next target, just like I said.”

  Vuna reached into the inner pocket of his robes and gave Death a map of Vatanil and the Sentinels. “The city is large,” he said. “The towers see all that come from every direction—but look to the north of the city, the Sentinels grow scarce. You could travel through the mountains on foot, get close to the walls and scale them without a Sentinel seeing you if you take this marked route.”

  “Why not just have Beion take us to the wall?”

  Vunadeira shrugged. “The mountain has nice views. The walk would do you good.”

  Death pocketed the map. “Fine then. I’ll take the path.

  Inside of the Flame home, Ash and Rica had woke before the rest. Ash shut the door to Rica’s room.

  “You can’t go with them,” she told her daughter. “It’s far too dangerous for you.”

  Rica threw herself on her bed like a mischievous teen, crying into her sheets. “Why not? Beion gets to go! I want to go!”

  She knelt by her daughter’s bedside. “I won’t allow it. I know the actions of a woman in love. You like the human… spending more time with him will only make you fall harder, that is how I fell for your father after he killed my other suitor.”

  Rica sobbed a little harder.

  “The fact he can’t love you shouldn’t make you hate him,” she said. “He favours you in a different way. He wouldn’t allow you to get close to him… and yes, I can smell his scent on you, there is not much that you can hide from a mother’s nose.”

  “What do I do?” Rica cried.

  “Love him in your own way, expect nothing back. Find what it is that makes you truly happy. If that is Death, then find a way to make him happy as a friend so you don’t lose him.”

  Beion intruded their conversation. “Mother, we are leaving,” he said. “I shall return when the adventure grows stale.”

  “Be safe,” Ash said. “Trust only the humans that you’ve met in Hell. Take no risks with the others.”