-oOo-

  Chapter 23

  -oOo-

  “How many minutes until you fix your hair?” Riley whispered conspiratorially.

  The freckled blonde had one arm thrown over Sylvia’s shoulder, pulling her tight into a half hug. Also, her ‘whisper’ was quite loud. Sylvia rather suspected Riley intended to be overheard.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “See, Sylvia loves it,” Emily piped in. “She’s going to keep it that way, forever.”

  Was that… a threat?

  Smiling, Emily spread her arms. Sylvia hesitated a single moment, a vision of her beautiful master flashing through her mind. Then she stepped forward, accepting Emily’s embrace. The delicate brunette was warm and soft. She was going to miss her. She was going to miss them both.

  But certain things had to be said.

  “I definitely don’t love it,” Sylvia made clear.

  “Mmm.” Emily’s cheeks puffed in warning, her umbral eyes narrowed into points.

  “I’m going with five,” Riley mentioned. Loudly.

  Her friend was clearly trying to screw her.

  “No way, Sylvia loves her pigtails. And she looks so adorable in them. She’d never change it,” Emily insisted. “Also, she promised she would wear it like this for four months.”

  “I never promised anything,” Sylvia deadpanned. Also, she’d been blatantly coerced.

  The little imp stuck out her tongue. Sylvia ignored the brunette. But she’d make sure to check herself thoroughly for curses and alarms before switching back to her French braid. One could never be too careful when going against an evil witch.

  “Stay safe,” Sylvia said, looking at both girls.

  “We should be saying that to you,” Riley said, punching the silver-haired witch playfully on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll still practice while you’re away.”

  “Mm, mm,” Emily hummed while nodding. “I’ll make sure Riley keeps up with her studies. Next year, she’ll be third in her class. I guarantee it.”

  Laughing, Sylvia mounted her broom. The silver-haired girl gave them another wave while floating into the air.

  “What do you mean third in my class!” Riley growled, snagging the brunette.

  Emily struggled against the tomboy’s grip. “You’ll never be better than Sylvia!”

  The Academy disappeared behind her.

  Sylvia flew to the east, Vallenfelt manor rising from the woods with startling beauty. She crossed over the cliff, leaving behind wooden walls and towers.

  The Fortress of Dawn was soon upon her.

  The fort was a short, two-to-three kilometers jaunt from the Academy, depending on which edge of the butte you measured. The fort’s twin towers were the first to be seen, rising out of the Daylight Forest. On each were long, needle-like silhouettes. Lightning cannons. The fort also sported twelve ballistas along its eight-meter walls. The flame mortar within had enough range to fire over the Academy and strike enemies on the other side.

  And the space in between was well within the field of attack by both.

  No wonder, in this time of war, multiple demons had decided to move their house from Vallen and to the astral coast between the Academy butte and the Fortress of Dawn.

  Sylvia slowed as she approached the fort, waiting for the guards to wave her in.

  The Fortress of Dawn was a hundred meters side to side. Normally, the housed guard numbered two hundred. In the past two months, they had swelled to five hundred. Workers had been called in from Vallen, leaving the interior a thick throng of demons.

  Vallen’s only port was built into the fortress. A carved crevice held the harbor, with the ships sitting a good sixty meters below the walls. There were only three piers with two ships docked right now. The first was an eighty-meter beast, the Rechin Sange. The astral warship sported three cannons, six ballistas, and a pair of mortars. The wooden hull was ragged, beaten during the battle of Port Blaze.

  That damage slowly regenerated as the war vessel drank the local ether. What couldn’t be recovered naturally was restored by the ship’s crew and a handful of locals.

  Beside the warship was a sleek beauty. The Aripa was like a flat backed sturgeon, measuring fifty meters from bow to stern. The only weapons it held were three ballistas, one on the bow and two on the sides. The heavy bows were more a deterrent than a serious threat.

  This was the merchant vessel Sylvia would ride on her way to Tartarus.

  Whistling through the air, Sylvia slewed in a circle before setting on deck. She patted her black witch’s hat to make sure it was straight.

  Greeting the sailors, the asteri entered the hold. Sylvia had a private cabin near at the Aripa’s back.

  Well, not entirely private.

  When Sylvia opened the door, an angry gargoyle hissed. Stone shuffled as the phantasm adjusted its position, limbs unwrapping in blatant threat. Dark, red eyes fell upon the intruder. Only when the beast recognized its owner did it return to statue stillness.

  Beside the first gargoyle was sleeping a second. The two Class III guardians filled a quarter of Sylvia’s room.

  Another chunk of space was crowded by two crates and a metal chest. In the crates were materials: space stone, void rock, and realm brick. Sylvia would need these to build the frame of the gate. Most had yet to be enchanted. This would be Sylvia’s primary task during the downtimes. The final assembly, of course, would have to wait until she reached the world tree.

  But that wasn’t all. Among the items were various tools and resources. A brass basin that would be used to set up a simple resurrection pool. A selection of equipment for shaping and enchanting. There was even, nestled inside, a six-week cache of astral amber.

  In the metal chest were the items with the highest value: Sylvia’s phylactery and the gargoyles’ soul stones. So too, was the core for the new gate, a waystone made from the root of Esmeralda’s cosmic ash. This heavy metal trunk was marked with a paper seal, proof the contents had already been inspected by a soul officiate.

  Flap. Flap.

  A shadow flew in through the room’s small, slit window. A bat fluttered around Sylvia’s head. Startled, Sylvia waved a hand, trying to fend off the critter.

  “Squeak.” The bat noised, flashing over her bed. A white note fluttered down onto the covers. The shadowy creature landed on a post. “Squeak.”

  Sylvia flicked an observe in its direction.

  “Iulian Codrin.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Sylvia gazed at the bat a moment longer before plucking the note off her bed.

  Lady Swallows,

  I had hoped to see you in good stead. Alas, I find myself in need of a favor. A favor that is best kept between ourselves, so I won’t commit it to writing. If you are amenable to my request, please meet me in the forest south of the fort so we might talk.

  Your dear comrade in arms,

  Iulian Codrin.

  Sylvia lowered the letter to look at the bat. “I suppose you’ll lead the way?”

  The bat spread its wings, which were grayed and tattered.

  Right. Shadow magic hated sunlight.

  “■,” Sylvia clicked her tongue, reducing the letter to ash. “I’ll meet you there then.”

  Grabbing her broom, Sylvia headed back up to the deck. A minute later and she was circling the woods south of the fort. A new bat flew from the trees, circled once, then dove into the forest. Sylvia set down gently, stepping gracefully off air as she dipped below the tree tops.

  No need to replicate Abigail Wright’s infamous moment where she impaled herself on a branch.

  “Lady Swallows,” Iulian greeted with a fluttery bow. “It is my pleasure to lay eyes on you once more.”

  The redheaded vampire stood beneath a canopy of leaves, dressed in a dark cloak. Shadow fell over him, granting a respite from the morning sun. Iulian was exactly as Sylvia remembered: bright red eyes, handsome, chiseled features. An ordinary girl might be flattered.

  Sylvia had no interest in men. She liked long-legged women.

  “Spare me,” Sylvia griped. She suppressed her phantom urge to meet his bow with a curtsy. To do so would only encourage the flirt. “What’s with the skulduggery?”

  “Quick to business, I see,” Iulian quipped. Carefully, the redheaded vampire brushed back his cloak. Within, a soul lamp gleamed with pale moonlight. “As for my caution, I’m afraid that this is not the kind of favor you ask for publicly.”

  Indeed, it was not. In fact, Sylvia was already having second thoughts.

  “Are you asking me to throw that overboard halfway to Tartarus?” Sylvia scoffed.

  To cast a soul into the void was an ancient form of punishment. Prisons were complicated and expensive. Putting a soul into a lamp then tossing it into the dark was easy and cheap. Thereafter, the lamp would drift on the astral currents. One day, it would wash ashore or the lamp would crack under the steady pressure of the occupant.

  The greatest flaw of this punishment was the grotesque unfairness. If luck was favorable, the demon would be free in mere months. If fortune turned ill, the imprisonment might last for centuries.

  And that was to say nothing about the troublesome demons who retained awareness even when dead.

  Though governments disdained the practice, for the poor and the weak casting souls into the void remained the most convenient way to rid themselves of immortal enemies.

  Just as importantly, the karmic blowback was within acceptable bounds. Sylvia would be in trouble if she tossed a hundred lamps among the stars but one or two would hardly cause her any worry.

  “No!” Iulian said sharply. The vampire caught his breath. “No. Absolutely not. My apologies, Lady Swallows. This lamp holds Elroy of Est Sombre, not an enemy.”

  Ah. Well. This was different than she’d imagined. It also changed the circumstance considerably.

  “Elroy of Est Sombre,” Sylvia repeated while pondering. Her eyes turned dead and judging. “Lady Vallenfelt warned me not to associate with him.”

  Not that she wouldn’t, but Iulian ought to know he would find little help from the baroness.

  The vampire grimaced. “I am aware of the politics. However, as a comrade in arms, I couldn’t look away from Elroy’s plight. I know this is forward, but I am asking you, Lady Swallows, not Lady Vallenfelt.”

  He was asking her? Then…. Sylvia’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to take him off-plane.”

  “Your insight is only surpassed by your beauty,” Iulian confirmed.

  Sylvia pinched the bridge of her nose, doing her best to ignore the bastard’s compliments.

  “What exactly happened?”

  The redheaded vampire considered for a moment before explaining.

  “Before the start of the tournament, Elroy became enemies with Lyam Gris,” Iulian answered. “Lyam is the werewolf most favored by Baron Gris in this generation, so his power is substantial. As for how this came to pass, I am not certain, but I can guess Lyam found Elroy’s talent threatening.”

  Sylvia nodded. Grasping for power was a common element among clans. Even in the Academy, she had garnered jealous stares. At least, Sylvia had before her talent so greatly surpassed all her peers and everyone gave up.

  “A month ago, Lyam was given authority over a hundred werewolves,” Iulian continued. “He immediately abused this authority to have Elroy assigned under his command.”

  Sylvia facepalmed. “Let me guess, Lyam aimed to murder Elroy.”

  “Killed then disappeared,” Iulian confirmed with grim tones. “After which, Lyam would have Elroy falsely painted as a deserter.”

  Wow, that was seriously fucked.

  “Elroy came to me requesting a favor, but I had no authority over Baron Gris’s men,” Iulian continued. “So, instead, I arranged to have his lamp intercepted.”

  “Which only puts him back where he started,” Sylvia pointed out. “By now Elroy is definitely listed as a deserter.”

  “Certainly. There is little we can do about that. But since this is the case, why not make truth of fiction?” Iulian said, bright red eyes dancing. “Which is why I brought him to you. And what a fortunate turn that was, as you are soon to depart to Tartarus.”

  “Iulian,” Sylvia said sourly. “Does Elroy even know he’s being sent off-plane?”

  The vampire shook his head and the lamp.

  “I haven’t had the chance to appraise him of current events. Elroy has been a wee bit indisposed,” Iulian answered with good humor. “But I did say that I would see him to safety. It is just… not quite in the way either of us imagined.”

  “Snickerdoodles,” Sylvia spat.

  The silver-haired witch paced back and forth. Several ideas flashed through her head before one stuck. It was risky. For Elroy, not for her.

  But was that risk worse than keeping Elroy here?

  “I’ll do it,” Sylvia relented, extending a hand to take the soul lamp.

  The redheaded vampire passed it over while wearing a handsome smile. “I knew I could place my faith in you, Lady Swallows.”

  If he was truly grateful, he’d stop shoving ‘lady’ in front of her name.

  “I just hope Elroy is as grateful when he finds himself on Tartarus,” Sylvia retorted, tucking the lamp under her robes so the shine wouldn’t be seen. “Is that all?”

  “I am already too far in your debt,” Iulian suavely insisted. “But if you don’t mind, may I know how things have been?”

  Sylvia sighed.

  “There’s not a lot to say,” Sylvia replied. “The Academy has been busy preparing for the war, and now I’m being sent to Tartarus to purchase weapons on the baroness’s behalf.”

  “An admirable position, especially in light of your youth,” Iulian praised, eyes sharp. “As for myself, Lord Codrin made me a lieutenant of logistics, far from the front lines and the glory of war.”

  “Amateurs talk strategy, professionals talk logistics,” Sylvia said, remembering an old quote.

  “Thank you, Lady Swallows, your courtesy moves my heart,” the vampire said, right hand over his chest.

  “So, no young master Codrin then,” Sylvia probed.

  “I’m afraid I hadn’t the chance,” Iulian regretted. “But, should I play my cards right, I might still catch the king’s eye. A true pity, this war. I think if the tournament had gone as planned, we would’ve been victors in the minors.”

  Sylvia nodded. She agreed with his assessment. They really had a solid chance to seize first place.

  “What happened to Gavin and Nessa?”

  “Nessa returned to her master. She’s producing explosives for the military. As for Gavin,” Iulian sighed and spread his arms. “Apparently, he entered the tournament as a runaway. The moment the siege broke, he upped and vanished.”

  Sylvia snorted. The little goblin was a criminal. Good for him. Stick it to those slaving shit bags.

  “The Timeless Beryl Wilderness is too small for a fugitive,” Sylvia remarked.

  Though Sylvia would never fault a slave for fleeing, it wasn’t an intelligent move. Hell had a hundred ways to track a runaway and the courts had little pity. If this happened on a larger plane, Gavin could’ve disappeared into the masses. On the Timeless Beryl Wilderness there weren’t a whole lot of black-skinned redcaps.

  “With the war, who is to say?” Iulian contradicted. “The rebels have offered any slave who serves a chance at freedom. The king has returned the favor, but only for slaves owned by those supporting the rebel faction. Given Gavin’s situation, I planned to offer him a job. But, when I looked, he was nowhere to be found.”

  Iulian spread his arms in lament. Sylvia didn’t blame the goblin. Promises made by the powerful were all too easily broken.

  Nudging the lamp under her robes, Sylvia spoke. “It’s best if we don’t stand around chatting for too long.”

  “Then I will await the day I can experience your charm again, Lady Swallows,” Iulian said with an elegant bow.

  “Farewell, Iulian. I hope we meet under better circumstances,” Sylvia returned, flowing into a natural curtsy.

  Mounting her broom, Sylvia took to the sky. A minute later, she landed on the Aripa. It was only when the asteri entered her room that she realized she had curtsied to the bastard.

  Arrg!

  Lady Vallenfelt had ruined her. At this rate, Sylvia would soon be hosting tea parties and showing off her most beautiful dress.

  -oOo-

  The horizon was filled with starlight.

  A galaxy of light lay beneath the ship’s hull, twinkling with the beauty of Unus Mundus, flickers of the one world rising through the seething chaos. This was the starry void in its rawest form, a sea that one could dive into forever without fathoming its depths. Only souls could pass the pale and enter the realm beyond.

  Above this ocean of stars stood the blackest night. The empty void, a space of shadow and darkness. If a ship were to fly high enough, the ether would thin then cease. All law and logic would peel away. The only rules that would remain would be those a demon brought with them.

  True nothingness.

  As for what lay beyond, that was a question of myth and legend. Some said another realm existed above the netherworld just as the nether floated on top of the material. Others believed that empty void was simply that, empty. There was nothing there and nothing to reach for.

  Sylvia felt only faint curiosity. There was still so much to discover in the nether that it was meaningless to contemplate any new dimension which might exist beyond.

  The Aripa swam through this astral world. Blue fins formed of ether rippled, propelling the ship along its path. Long spectral ribbons trailed behind, undulating in the chaos. To achieve greater speed and efficiency, astralships dove deep into the stars. There, the ether was thickest and the firmament’s consistency closer to the sea.

  Which meant, to see the empty void, Sylvia had to gaze straight up.

  But now this pit of black was glowing. Toward the ship’s bow, darkness transformed into crimson clouds and rolling smoke.

  Thud.

  A sailor dropped beside her. Sylvia looked back to see a vanara bowing its head.

  “Lady Swallows, Tartarus will be coming up on the bow shortly.”

  Vanara were monkey demons from the vishnu lineage. The sailor had golden fur and a hairless face reminiscent of a primate. His feet were akin to hands while a thin tail sprang from his rear.

  “Thank you, Zahir,” Sylvia said politely. “How much longer until landfall?”

  “Two hours give or take,” Zahir answered. Then he smiled and added, “milady.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t call me that,” Sylvia expressed with annoyance.

  “As a humbled slave, how could I show the slightest disrespect,” Zahir said, head lowered.

  Sylvia eyes flicked to the metal collar chaining his neck. She snorted. Her gaze shifted back to the star filled horizon. The vanara retreated, leaving her alone. The silver-haired witch breathed in the astral ether. The taste of chaos held an ineffable allure, though perhaps this was a side effect of her asteri bloodline.

  Sylvia admired the astral beauty for a moment longer, then she turned from the stern to look across the bow.

  The ship groaned. The Aripa started its final ascent. The starry void lacked any concept of gravity, but the logic had been woven into the wooden beams with the help of the element law.

  Ahead loomed Tartarus.

  The plane was a mighty rock rising from the infinite depths. The bottom of the world scraped against the untouchable Unus Mundus, sending out crashing waves of shimmering white like a liner cutting through the ocean. The mountainous crest stood above the stars, the empty void swallowed by crimson clouds and a haze of ash.

  Tartarus was a famous plane. As one of the nine hells, its name was known even to the people of Earth, divided though they were from the nether by the faint ether that clung to their planet.

  Tartarus was a world split into layers and caverns. The top three circles were known as the Asphodel Meadows. Each of these layers was a realm unto itself, complete with a sky, a sun, and a moon. All manner of terrains could be found within: plains, lakes, forests, swamps, deserts, and mountains.

  But this changed when one reached the fourth layer. At this point, Tartarus became a world of stone and fire. Here the sky was made of smoke and rock. The Phlegethon flowed through these lands, pouring down the tunnels until the seventh layer was reached. It was a true river of fire, an endless stream of incandescent magma and terrible heat.

  Deeper still and Tartarus cooled, transforming into a black pit. Light dimmed then died. Burning heat faded into a glacial frost that pierced the soul. In the Ancient Era, this pit served as a prison, a hole into which the darkest of souls were thrown.

  It was difficult to judge the size of the plane. The first layer of Tartarus was already half as wide as the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. The surface bulged broader as the layers went lower before narrowing into smaller and smaller realms. The Asphodel Meadows was civilized. In the depths lay true wilderness. Few lived beneath the sixth circle and fewer dared travel beyond the eighth.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Because great danger lay in the pit. There, powerful phantasms prowled, ghastly echoes cast by the depravity of the souls bound in a bygone era. Some of these creatures had even evolved into immortal beasts.

  The Aripa crested the cliffs. The sprawling city of Iacchus came into view.

  Built along the banks of the Archeron, Iacchus was a massive metropolis. In both size and population it matched the greatest cities of Earth. Ten million demons were spread out over two thousand square kilometers. Towers and castles rose above the urban chaos, glorious structures that challenged any skyscraper. The streets and buildings were filled with light, fed by ether instead of electricity. The sparkle reminded Sylvia of modern glory.

  The harbor ran along the city’s long beach. Jetties of wood and stone extended from the cliff like a hundred fingers. Astral traffic was abundant. The Aripa was but one ship of dozens sailing around the city. Warships, trade ships, and pleasure boats of all shapes and sizes abounded.

  And Iacchus was just one of the cities in Tartarus

  Seven hundred million demons called Tartarus home. Most stayed in the Asphodel Meadows. A fifth lived in the layers beyond. Here, on the upper level, what little wild that could be found was all preserves set aside by the government.

  Slowly, the ship slid into port. Sylvia’s eyes shifted from Iacchus to the helmsman and sailors. The captain shouted orders. Ethereal streamers were trimmed. The Aripa was steered with a deft hand, leaning against the currents of chaos.

  All of these were recorded by her keen gaze, information to fill her System’s database.

  Because one day soon, she would have to carry out these tasks by herself.

  -oOo-

  It took four fucking hours to pass through customs.

  Sylvia left the harbor in a huff. For the first time, Sylvia realized how spoiled she’d been as an apprentice to a baroness. Alas, here in Iacchus, a baroness from a rural backwater held little sway. There were two hundred demons of equal rank living in this city alone.

  “How does that work, anyway?” Sylvia mumbled to herself.

  Did each baron administer a ward? Did they simply accept posts in an administrative office? Baron for sheriff. Baron for port authority. Did they appoint barons here the same way Vallen appointed devils?

  Did you have to have a fief to be a baron?

  …

  On second thought, Sylvia didn’t want to know. Hopefully, Sylvia would be done with this trip in two weeks and well on her way to a world unknown.

  A realm with no five hundred-year-old bureaucrats to deal with.

  Querying the System, Sylvia brought up her notes. “Belkis’ house is on 2nd street just past Athens, in the Nychta Ward.”

  The silver-haired witch glanced about.

  Buildings gathered around her in a wall of gothic and renaissance architecture. The harbor authority, which she just left, was a domed structure five stories tall. The main door rose ten meters with magnificent, obsidian pillars arrayed in front. The dark, smooth stone was covered in thin cracks shedding a magma glow.

  Black, red, and gray were the city’s favored colors, but along the streets were lamps shedding blue-white illumination in defiance. Each lamp had three curvy heads, like a hydra. A misty drizzle filled the air. A red rain that ran off Sylvia’s black robes before dripping onto the pavement below.

  The taste held a hint of copper.

  In front of her was a road teaming with demons. Hundreds made their way along a path carved from smooth, pale stone.

  Tromp, tromp, tromp.

  Carriages crossed the thoroughfare. People stuck to the sides to give them room. Since this was Hell, Sylvia imagined anyone foolish enough not to would just get run over.

  “Hey you!” an annoyed voice shouted. “Keep your phantasms in check!”

  Sylvia turned. A shellycoat walked by, beating a wide path around her angry gargoyles. The phantasmal beasts held Sylvia’s cargo in hand. With claws, glowers, and raised tails they warned all demons against approach.

  “Sorry,” she apologized.

  The shellycoat glared. His skin clacked faintly as he continued on his way.

  “Witches are so pretentious,” he muttered.

  Having been warned, Sylvia herded her gargoyles into an alley. She looked at the city. Then she looked at the address again.

  Sylvia scowled.

  This was going to be a long, miserable day, wasn’t it?

  “I should just call a cab,” she murmured. She gazed at the road. “Or a carriage. But how the fudge do I call a carriage?”

  Whoosh.

  A flying figure whipped by on a broom. A second later, the witch slued past before gliding back.

  After stopping in front of her, the woman dismounted.

  Curly, golden brown hair reached the small of the lady’s back. Her skin was dark, dusky, and alluringly smooth. The woman wore a deep red dress along with a small, pointed hat that was more decorative than beneficial. With this, she charmingly declared her bloodline and affiliation.

  Witch.

  Here in the nether, the label was worn with pride.

  “Sylvia Swallows?” the woman ventured.

  “Belkis, I presume,” Sylvia replied, flashing a smile.

  The witch gave a wild grin. Then she lifted her dress, dipping into a delicate curtsy. “Belkis von Vallenfelt, at your service.”

  “I am pleased to meet you, senior sister,” the silver-haired witch returned with a curtsy no less graceful.

  Because, if she didn’t put her best foot forward, Sylvia’s senior might rat her out to her teacher.

  “Wow, my little sister is a real cutie,” Belkis appraised. Her eyes were like heated iron, irises of gray metal melting into an incandescent pool. Then her gaze flicked to the gargoyles behind. “Master must be pretty protective if she lent you two.”

  “You have one?” Sylvia questioned.

  “I use it to guard my house,” Belkis explained. The woman remounted her broom. “Come on, I’ll fly you there.”

  “Ah, before that,” Sylvia interrupted. She stirred up the System’s observe then held it at ready. “Do you mind if I carry out one last check.”

  Belkis frowned. Her hand tightened on the broom’s haft. Then the dark-skinned witch put on an easy smile that belied her hesitation.

  “Go for it little sis. One can never be too careful.”

  Sylvia didn’t give Belkis a chance to change her mind. Observe Opponent.

  Ding!

  Belkis was a prisma, an elemental witch of the magissa genera. Esmeralda Vallenfelt had taken Belkis as her apprentice during her first life, well before the founding of the Academy and the spread of her asteri bloodline. In fact, their relationship was rather strange from the perspective of demons. Esmeralda was only half a century older than Belkis, which would typically make them sisters rather than master and apprentice.

  “That’s an interesting trick,” Belkis commented, eyes narrowed.

  “Bone engraving,” Sylvia said by way of explanation. It was even technically true. “I picked it up as part of an experiment.”

  Which was also true. She was Lucifer’s guinea pig. The first person to experience the advanced features of his System.

  See? Sylvia was an honest demon.

  Belkis looked her over. “Is Master still aiming for Transcendence?”

  “Yeah,” Sylvia answered. “She’s obsessed with it.”

  “That and her academy,” Belkis said lightly, smile returning. “Hop on your broom, I’ll show you where you’ll be living.”

  Sylvia mounted her broom as asked, floating two meters up. The gargoyles helpfully hoisted one chest and a crate. Sylvia frowned, seeing that one would be left behind.

  “Let me,” Belkis interrupted. “■■ ■ ■.”

  Scores of runes merged into an arm of wind before wrapping the box. The crate floated into the air, hovering beside the curly haired witch.

  “This way!” Belkis shouted, shooting into the sky.

  Sylvia chased after.

  Ten minutes later, the two of them approached a tower rising sixteen stories above Iacchus. The walls were made with thick, dark-gray stone. Balconies jutted off the circumference, each with glass doors and windows that reminded Sylvia strangely of her apartment on Earth.

  Halfway up, the tower split like a tree. Three skyways extended from the trunk, suspending great turrets above the city. The architecture was breathtaking.

  As in, Sylvia’s gut turned at the thought of one of those turrets plunging into the streets below.

  Belkis, as it so happened, lived in the second highest of these flying turrets. The witch slowed as she approached, landing carefully on the balcony. She waved for Sylvia to wait while she propped open the glass doors.

  Only then did Sylvia fly in, two gargoyles following behind.

  “The guest room is on the right,” Belkis said. “The resurrection pool is straight ahead, I’ll need to key you in with your blood and psychic essence first.”

  Sylvia gestured to the gargoyles. “Put the crates over there for now.”

  The stone phantasms moved as instructed, unloading their burden.

  “I don’t imagine you get many visitors up here,” Sylvia commented.

  “I’m a single, pretty girl living on her own. The harder it is for visitors, the better,” Belkis quipped. “Also the view is incredible.”

  Sylvia gazed out over the balcony. Iacchus glittered, a city both ancient and modern.

  “It is a nice view,” the asteri confirmed. She turned back, tone all business. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see the pool.”

  Resurrection pools came in many kinds. Belkis’ private pool was a cylindrical basin no deeper than Sylvia’s chest. Wooden beams wound around it, channeling the elements blood and water. These ethers were catalyzed by the runes engraved around the pool’s edge, transforming them into essence of the amniotic aspect.

  This essence was food for the soul. With it, the disembodied self could swiftly congeal a new body letting a demon quickly resurrect.

  “How many can it support?” Sylvia asked, briefly returning to the living room to open the metal chest. The paper seal broke. When she next entered a plane, her goods would be inspected.

  “There’s only enough for one-and-a-half, and it takes three months for the basin to fill automatically,” Belkis answered. “If the pool runs low, we can buy buckets from any of the public pools in the city. It costs around ten soli a drom, but it’s a lot faster than waiting it out.”

  Sylvia carried her urn to the basin. Within the green tinged liquid floated a pale fetus. This was a husk prepared by Belkis to accelerate her resurrection should her current body die.

  “Convenient,” the asteri commented, easing her phylactery into the water.

  Plop. Plop.

  Right after that, Sylvia tossed both soul stones into the deep basin. Now there were three red rocks resting at the bottom.

  “Stay here,” the silver-haired witch said, gesturing to a gargoyle.

  The phantasmal beast stepped into the room, stone grinding as it moved. The existing occupant eyed it warily. Both eventually settled on either side of the pool, grim statues overlooking the anchors of two precious souls.

  “That’s a little overkill, I think,” Belkis commented, closing the door behind her.

  Sylvia found a chair in the living room and sat. Nice and cushy. Her feet even touched the ground. Though that might’ve been because of her Blood Bone Heels.

  “Call me paranoid, but I’d rather have too much protection where my soul rests rather than too little.”

  Dead was a demon’s most vulnerable state. A lot of terrible things could be done to a naked soul. Even ignoring this, it was all too easy to steal an anchor or kill a gestating body.

  “We can keep the other by the balcony. It’ll scare away thieves.” Belkis made an exaggerated sigh. “Master gave you two gargoyles and only left me with one. Clearly, she loves you more.”

  “More like, she realized I’m weaker than you,” Sylvia returned. And more importantly, that Sylvia would have to set up a resurrection pool in the middle of a wilderness.

  “Fair point,” Belkis admitted. The witch sat on the couch then laid back. “But what I really can’t accept is that she’s been hiding an adorable little sister from me for who knows how many years.”

  “One,” Sylvia informed. A little less in fact. “One year. And my apprenticeship was only made official in the last two months.”

  Now that she was settled, Sylvia took a moment to scrutinize Belkis’ apartment. It was bigger than Eric’s old flat. There were two bedrooms and a living room. No bathroom, though Sylvia supposed a resurrection pool was somewhat similar. They both involved water anyway.

  And this was just what was visible from where she was sitting. The hall leading to the front door was more than long enough for another pair of rooms beside.

  Pretty expensive, Sylvia judged.

  Though not surprising, given Esmeralda’s luxurious taste. Also, Belkis was a devil, which made her an official member of the one-percent.

  “Regardless, you’re out from under Master’s thumb for now, little sis,” the brunette announced, taking off her hat to set it on the side table.

  The prisma rested on the couch. The sloven posture reminded Sylvia of Riley Smith, though Belkis’ casual manner had a feminine refinement the tomboy lacked.

  “How long are you staying, anyway?”

  “A few weeks. Maybe a month,” Sylvia shrugged. “It depends on how fast I can acquire everything I need. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Belkis returned. She grinned. “We hardly know each other.”

  It was good that Belkis understood. Sylvia wasn't terribly thrilled to be living with a stranger. Belkis probably felt the same.

  The other woman’s expression shifted. Her words turned a bit cold. “To tell the truth, I have a few things going on. It might be better if you leave sooner rather than later.”

  Sylvia held up a hand. “I understand completely.”

  Belkis let out a breath. “That’s good.” The dark-skinned witch put on a smile. “What does Master have you doing here anyway? She was very secretive.”

  “I’m buying war supplies,” Sylvia said, revealing the official story. “Two cannons and a mortar. An earth drum if we can get our hands on a good one cheap.” The silver-haired witch paused, this part wasn’t so official, but it’d be impossible to hide regardless. “And an astralship.”

  Earth drums were an oddity when it came to weapons of war. Their function was to detect and counter tunneling enemies. When someone dug through protected ground, the drum would sound. When struck, earth spells could be delivered straight on top of a sensed target.

  Which was far nastier than it seemed. Earth magics could tear through scales, fur, and armor as though they were tissue paper. The biggest weakness of this magic was that earth elemental spells were relatively easy to dodge.

  Above ground anyway.

  In a small cavern or narrow tunnel? Anyone caught was just plain fucked.

  “Siege weapons, huh?” Belkis questioned. “Master did mention something about a war. What’s the astralship for?”

  “Can’t tell you,” Sylvia replied. “But it has to be the type which can be sailed alone.”

  Belkis’ expression turned tight. Her gaze was a swirl of metal and fire.

  “Little sis,” she said, voice holding an edge of warning. “You aren’t planning to take Master’s money and run, are you?”

  Sylvia gave a humored smile. “I suppose this is a bad time to mention that I also need a manual or jade scroll on astrogation?”

  Belkis pressed her lips. Uncomfortable silence loomed. Sylvia sighed.

  “I really can’t say what it’s for.”

  Belkis flopped back onto the couch. “So Master doesn’t trust me?”

  Her voice was small. Sylvia remained quiet for a moment, not sure of how to answer.

  “If she didn’t, I wouldn’t be here,” the silver-haired witch said finally.

  Belkis gazed out the balcony where crimson rain fell like blood onto the land. The sky had grown darker. The sun, hidden behind the clouds, now hung at the edge of the horizon replacing the rolling red with churning black. Day transformed into night.

  Even in this alien world, the transition was nostalgic.

  Sylvia really wanted to turn on her computer and grind a good drop.

  “I see,” Belkis whispered. Her burning eyes turned back, gazing into a universe of fractal pink. “Manuals aren’t hard, but I’m not sure if I can find a jade scroll on a specific topic. If it’s not an issue, I’ll talk with Phoebe at the coven. She should know where we can get a good price. If not, she can wiggle up some fate magic, and we can try our luck.”

  Belkis waggled her fingers in the air mystically. Sylvia’s lips quirked. It seemed the elemental witch felt the same about fate magic as Sylvia did.

  The dark-skinned witch set her head on a hand, gazing at Sylvia sideways.

  “So, what does Master say behind my back?” Belkis asked conspiratorially.

  “Mostly, she whines about how she could’ve had a good, loyal devil working for her as vice dean, magistrate, or captain of the guard,” Sylvia said.

  Generally paired with subtle insinuations that Sylvia should be a good girl and support her master like she was supposed to.

  “Really?” Belkis laughed. “Me, a vice dean? She’s still on about that?”

  “She loves her academy.”

  The Starlight Nether Witch Academy was Esmeralda’s baby. She had poured her heart, her time, and her money into it. Rather than saying she was Baroness of Vallen, it was more correct to say Lady Vallenfelt was a dean whose school was supported by her town’s assets.

  “She does, she does,” Belkis said, slapping the side of the couch happily. “Every month she’d tell me her plan. Which classes would be taught and in which order. How the building had to be laid out. What kind of uniform her girls would wear.”

  The dark-skinned witch trailed off.

  “Master’s academy. I’d like to see it.”

  “Not the best time, with the war going on,” Sylvia commented. She paused then pressed awkwardly. “She misses you.”

  She felt uncomfortable. Eric never would’ve said it. Not even if he noticed. Perhaps, it was a year being socialized as a girl that had changed her. Or maybe, it was just Sylvia’s high wit combined with her enhanced resolve that made her both aware and willing.

  Belkis stared up at the ceiling. “Little sis, when you go back, tell Master I love her.”

  “I will,” Sylvia said, standing up. “But it would be better if you told her yourself. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to unpack and take a nap. It’s been a long day.”

  “See you in the morning then, little sis,” Belkis said with a wave.

  In the morning. After a proper night. What a wonderful thing.

  -oOo-

  Elemental Witch

  Type: Magical

  Potential: High

  Commonality: Rare

  Formal Name: Hecates Magissa Prisma

  The elemental witch is one of two common Magissa bloodlines, the other being the zoi or nature witch. As a whole, the Hecates lineage represents 250 million demons in the netherworld, or around 0.8% of the total population. Of those, around 100 million are magissa, with 55 million being prisma.

  Thus, while the elemental witch is common within the Hecates lineage, it is rare in the population as a whole.

  All prisma have the traits elemental palace and inner grimoire. The former allows them to condense and store ether in their body, similar to the operation of a staff. This trait becomes stronger during Awakening and Transcendence, eventually granting direct use of an advanced primordial element which corresponds with the witch’s elemental character.

  The inner grimoire, on the other hand, permits an elemental witch to ‘record and repeat’ runic chains. This allows for high speed casting limited by a cooldown. The operation of the inner grimoire is similar to that of catalyst tools and bone engravings, though the grimoire is far more adjustable.

  The capacity of this trait scales with level.

  Though they are often called elemental witches, a prisma’s affinity is limited to the primordial elements. It is instead the zoi who are attuned to the elements of life. As for chaos? Even among the uncommon bloodlines, only the gnosi have a strong affinity. And in their case, it is to causality and fate in specific.

  This does not mean an elemental witch is limited to their specific element. Prisma are fully capable of magecraft and can be quite adept at magics outside their domain. Many, in fact, choose staves that extend the breadth of their elemental coverage.