The screams and quiet sobbing were a welcomed distraction from all of Margo’s problems. She strode through the maze of tunnels beneath Esthergrad, biting at her finger and cursing her own stupidity. To this day she could not say what had possessed her to move to this place. Throwing caution to the wind, the ancient witch wanted to confirm with her two eyes that Alice was truly dead. Instead, she found a town overrun by the monstrosities of the Wilds. Of the whore, there was no sign.

Sure, there was also the possibility that a beast had eaten her corpse, however, Margo found that hard to believe. She had made this mistake once before. The witch trusted her covenant that Alice was dead only to witness that she was alive and well.

“Why does everyone fail me at the most crucial of junctions!” Margo cried out as she entered the vision pool. A part of her was prepared to admit that there was no one to blame but herself.

The group of geldling thralls hurried to prepare for the ritual to come. The damnable creatures looked like the perfect servants initially. Yet another mistake to add to the ever-growing list. The few clans that inhabited the underground tunnels of Esthergrad were far too removed from their feral ancestor. They were nothing but domesticated pets, utterly useless to shape into an army that could track down that whore Alice.

Yes, it was all because of them. Those hideous creatures with deformed faces and idiotic look in their eyes were to blame for why Margo the Raven was a prisoner in her own covenant house. It is because of them that she could not hope to get any more followers than the few she picked on her way to this pile of rubble. And speaking of her supposed sisters on the newly formed Raven’s Wing covenant, they were following Margo like a gaggle of elderly women. They were far too fearful of those perverse creations, they called Witch Hunters, to dare venture outside, let alone leave her side.

“You two,” Margo pointed at the pair nearest to her, “remove that thing from here and prepare a new ritual.” She commanded, not even bothering to look at the remains of the witch, swimming in the vision pool.

This was unacceptable. The quality of this generation of practitioners was beyond abysmal. They could not last more than a handful of days, before being consumed by the greater demons, Margo was trying to summon. Sure, the ancient woman could call forth ten, if not hundreds, of their lesser kind. Binding them with forced contracts to whoever she chose. However, such creatures were useless, far too weak for her plans. If Marg wished to bury that whore Alice for good, she needed greater demons. Earning the patronage of Kai Nem or Sarthal Lok would be the best possible outcome. However, dealing with the Lords of the infernal realm is more than dangerous. It borders insanity and would only pile further torment, should she fail to please their requests.

Margo’s head snapped to the side as she caught movement with the corner of her eye. The second volunteer for the ritual was not yet dead. She raised her hand and looked at the tortured victim, or whatever was left of it.

“Name yourself, creature.” It was hard to keep her voice level, but there could be no place for errors. “I am the one who anchors your existence to this place and you shall name yourself.”

For a moment, the scorched remains of the once old man floating in the vision pool, remained quiet. Motionless, no different from the corpse Margo had initially taken it for.

The thing opened its mouth, releasing unnatural heat with its breath as its name made the witch’s ears bleed. “Er Hass.”

She looked at the thing, seeing what the others were missing, as violently as its mortal host’s flesh was splitting, it was also rapidly healing. The balance of power was almost perfect, trapping the demon into the mortal realm for long enough, for Margo to force It to submit to her will. She searched her memory for the meaning of the name and which infernal lord it called master. Few witches could do something like this without consulting one of the many complicated tomes, she once had decorating her home. However, to Margo, such a thing came naturally. After all, she was one of the handful of witches who wrote those damned tomes, spending decades between life and death to unlock the secrets of the names of demons.

“I name you Er Hass, servant of Mertahl Lux and I offer you this contract,” the incantation flew out of her mouth in the form of purple mist, forming a quickly fading scroll between herself and the demonic creature. “Accept it and submit yourself to me. Refuse it, and I will make sure to prolong your suffering in this wasting shell.”

“You dare threaten me, sow!” The thing tried to pull itself up from the vision pool, only for its arms to break. “I am Er Hass, a demon of wrath and slaughter!”

“And you will watch how you address a concubine of Lord Asmodai Val,” Margo looked at it with disdain, enjoying how quickly the bravado faded from it.

“The Raven…” violence crept in the demon’s voice. There was more it had to say; however, its words were lost in the bone-shattering thunder that echoed inside the complex net of tunnels.

Every shadow in the chamber containing the vision pool gathered at the ceiling, forming the titanic figure of Qvar Hes. Margo dropped to her knees, fear creeping inside her heart for the herald of the infernal lords only manifested itself when a terrible price has to be paid.

“She is coming,” the demon roared and whispered at the same time, poison dripping from its fangs. “The Witch approaches, and you are not ready to face her, creatures of flesh and bone. The most cruel one shall deal with her in person! Asmodai Val, Master of Torment, Father of Nightmares, will step onto this mortal world! Prepare a vessel for him and accept your punishment!”

Nathaniel lowered himself from his hiding place in the tree’s branches and landed quietly in the shrubbery. Searched for a safe path towards the ruins of Esthergrad, in theory, this was supposed to be the easy part, but reality had something else to say on the matter. The constant patrols and monstrous beasts made his task all that more difficult. It was a miracle he heard the last group in time to hide. It was even more impressive, he had not come across any Witch Hunters, and there were plenty around. He and Calypso had been scouting the Castle for days now and it did not look good.

This was perhaps the single most foolish thing he was attempting to do in his whole life. Nathaniel should really learn to say no to people. Sure, he understood why Zan and Calypso were fixated on revenge. But this was going a step too far. Somehow, he could not shake the feeling that it was all the former Marshall’s fault. Lord Tetradon was the one who discovered the witch, who had been a part of the massacre of the city when their small group was about to give up. Thanks to that, Calypso had once more retracted in her shell and was pushing even Nathaniel away. Neither did it help that he was keeping a lot of secrets from both the woman he loved and his closest friend, which only widened the rift between him and Calypso.

It wasn’t that the sailor did not want revenge, but he was afraid of what returning to this place was doing to the others. Sure, Zan’s anger at finding an army camp built on top of Irene’s grave was justifiable. But it wasn’t as if they could just march in and tell the Lords of the High-guard Combine to move their guards. However, Nathaniel suspected there was more to why the old man was on edge. Despite revealing some parts of his history, the former Silent Knight was a mystery.

Nathaniel arrested his movement when he heard a sound to his right. It could not be one of the patrols, and it was very unlikely it was one of the beasts of the Wilds. Worst case, it was either a witch or a Witch Hunter. Either option was equally terrible for the man. He was about to move closer to get a better view of what awaited him between the trees when the sky darkened and thunder and lightning struck like mad at the central building of the Castle.

“Boo!” Nathaniel jumped like a startled hare, focused only on reaching the relative safety of the stone structure. Screw everything, he was not risking anything that could sneak up on him, without so much a making a sound. Whoever it was, they were so close behind him that he felt their breath on his ear.

Diving between the trees, Nathaniel collided with a second person, who had been hiding there. Both of them tumbled on the damp ground and the sailor delivered punch after punch in the hope that he could escape. At least, this assailant was most likely human, if the stifled grunts and retrained shouts of pain were anything to go by. Having wasted precious seconds, he made to run away. However, a very strong hand pinned him to the dirt.

“You really must like the taste of the local peat, boy.” The owner of the husky voice behind him chuckled. Yet, it froze Nathaniel’s blood. He prayed to any power which would listen, he prayed for anything but this. Nothing scared him more than the owner of the two golden eyes that bore into him, as Irene rolled him to his back.

During the couple of weeks, it took them to return to Esthergrad, Amberly became accustomed to the strange behaviour of Alice. Or Irene, or whatever the insane witch wanted to call herself. That said, she could not come to terms with the demonic entity her captor commanded. Although, at times, it looked as if the infernal creature was the one in charge. Whatever was the relationship between them, it was anything but normal.

For one, the very fact that it could remain corporeal for such prolonged periods of time, and on its own accord at that, spokes volumes about how powerful it was. And that was if Amberly pretended not to see any dire implication of the way her own companion interacted with the thing. Somehow, calling Ingo Nox a demon felt insulting to someone who had the title of Seed of Chaos. And for the second, the relationship between a witch and her contracted demon is one of master and servant. Who plays which role, depends on how strong the witch is. Another thing that bothered the young witch was that Eda Nave was eerily quiet. Amberly did not think she could miss her dominant half, but now, when the thing wearing the God Slayer’s skin was sitting next to her, she could use any advice right about now.

“Really?” Her companion’s hungry voice echoed inside her head and she could feel the thing coil around her soul. “Take one of the dead branches from the ground and ram it through your eye, little morsel.”

“What?” Amberly almost exclaimed, masking the surprise with a forced yawn. Demons never advised suicide, to do so was a clear violation of the contract formed between them and their host. A clause, the first witches learned to include through a lot of trial and error.

“Appetiser, the Seed corrupts all it touches, you would od well not the trust a single word that comes out of its cursed maw,” Amberly could feel Eda Nave’s fear when it spoke. “Its mind is known only to its host and its master the Ruler of the Jagged Throne. But know this, my little morsel, Ingo Nox will be your death…”

Amberly winced as something bit into her soul and forcing her companion to retreat further. “You are being very unpolite to exclude me from your conversation,” a venomous voice whispered in her ear and she looked at the sadistic smile spread on the God Slayer’s face.

At this moment it dawned on her. The demon was the God Slayer, it had always been, and everyone was too blinded to notice the truth, even when it was right in front of their eyes.

“Why did you do it?” The young woman asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Why did you kill Uther? He was supposed to usher a new golden age for us witches and release your kind upon this world.”

“Oh, my dear foolish girl,” the demon purred and sat closer to her. “I did not harm the promised child. I’ve not so much as plucked a hair from his head.” It pulled a single white hair from Amberly’s temple. “Alas, poor ambitious Uther overreached and thought it a good idea to try and shackle my partner. All I did was entertain the demons he summoned.”

“But how can that be? Uther was a God!” Amberly could hardly believe what she was hearing, it simply made no sense. Sure, Irene was strong, but Uther had ascended to godhood. The very first person to do as such and he had the power to rival that of the Lords of the Inferno. Or at least that was what all the stories told.

“My dear, there is no such thing as gods,” the smile dropped from the demon’s face and it stood up. “It is a human concept, created to explain that which your mortal minds cannot understand. You are a witch, one with so much potential, so you will do well to educate yourself.”

“Then what of Irene? If she truly defeated Uther, does that not make her a God in the eyes of us mortals?” She could not help herself and made the remark, forgetting for a moment that one wrong word could mean death. Actually, she was not sure why she was alive at all, however, nothing good would come of following that particular line of thought.

“She is not. And,” the thing leaned closer almost touching her ear with its lips, “never say that when she can hear you. The last time someone compared her to a god, even my master turned his vengeful eyes away from the suffering inflicted on that poor soul.”

Ingo Nox stood up and motioned for Amberly to follow it. As they walked, between the trees, the thing continued to speak. “Let me tell you a story in a way you will understand. Once upon a time, there was a little girl, however, she was not like all the others. She could see things that were not there, things that lurked in the deepest shadows. Abandoned by her parents and her twin brother sold to slavers, she reached out to those dark spirits and made friends with them. Slowly, the girl learned that she could manipulate the power her friends had, through words and simple rituals.”

Amberly rolled her eyes. The last thing she imagined would happen was that a demon would treat her like a child. Still, this was a chance to learn something very important. She could feel it in her gut.

“She was unique, and she knew it. As a way to thank her new friends, she gave them names and forever bound their power to the nature of the mortal world. Years later, when she was all grown up, the girl found other children, who could see the world as she did. She nurtured their potential and watched them grow, watched them explore the limits of what those in the shadows could offer. She observed them, as they became arrogant because of the complexity of their words and rituals. The woman, turned a blind eye when her adopted children mocked her and laughed at her simple ways. Unlike her, they were forgetful and ignorant that all they achieved relayed on the very first words she had created.”

The demon stopped and sat on the unconscious woman sprawled on the ground, as the sky darkened. “Not wanting to appear as a tyrant, the woman secluded herself and made new friends. For far too long she had ignored those that dwelled in the brightest of light because they had ignored her in her hour of need. However, those in the shadows and those in the light did not like each other. But the woman forced them to work together through her. This frightened the King, who sat on a throne of crystal and amused the King who sat on a throne of jagged rock. While the former refused to help her further, the latter offered his first son and the woman merged him with its equal in the light.”

“You are both a spirit and a demon!” Amberly exclaimed, shocked at the revelation. Everything she knew told her that this was impossible, yet, the very proof was sitting in front of her. “The very manifestation of chaos…”

“Many years later, after being betrayed by all, the woman found another who could become her friend. A young misguided girl, who had the same darkness and light within her.” Ingo Nox tapped at the iron mask covering the unconscious woman’s face. “A child of light, who was forced to embrace the darkness to survive.”

“This is a Witch Hunter!” Amberly took a step back. “Irene has corrupted her contracted spirit, that’s why I did not sense it!”

“And soon you will be the same.” There was sadistic satisfaction in the demon’s voice as it giggled. “After all, you, my dear Amberly, and poor Calypso over here share the same blood.” It gently caressed the red hair of the downed Witch Hunter. “You are both descendants of Casper Tetradon, brother of Alice Tetradon, the First Witch. Isn’t that right Zan?”

The young witch looked in horror at the giant man who had been silent ever since he brought the Witch Hunter a few hours ago. Now it all made sense, why the most well-known Marshal of the Silent Knights had come searching for Irene, and why he had betrayed a Witch Hunter. The large man scoffed and spoke in a deep foreboding tone.

“I’m not like you, although I consider Irene to be my mother, she never gave birth to me. She saved me and my sister when we were left to die in the Wilds as children, and for that, I will be forever grateful. However, I am thankful that I do not share the same cursed bloodline as her.” Zan smiled at her, and unlike the demon, his was a kind smile. There was more he might have wanted to say, however, at that exact time a thunder rocked the world around them and lightning blinded her for a moment.

“There will be time for a nice family reunion later. Now, it looks like our final guest has arrived.” The demon produced a Kindra leaf cigarette and chuckled. “I guess I lost the bet this time.”

Amberly was ready to ask what the thing meant when someone collided with her and began to deliver a blow after blow. Surprised by the unrelenting assault, the with could not even scream in pain. All she managed was to flail in an uncoordinated manner until finally, rescue came.

“You really must like the taste of the local peat, boy.” Irene cooed in what had to be an amused voice, as she pulled the man away from Amberly. Giving the man enough time to gather his thoughts, she continued. “You better save your strength kid. I’m having guests over and I need to watch over Calypso, while I deal with their childish tantrum.”

This got the man’s attention and he desperately looked around until his eyes settled on the unconscious Witch Hunter. Amberly heard his sharp intake of breath while she stood shakily to her feet.

“If you’ve harmed her, I’ll…”

“You’ll do what exactly?” Irene interrupted him, the mirth disappearing from her face. “Before you make threats, know your audience. Because from where I stand, you are as dangerous as an agitated rat.”

With one hand, the woman propped him up and carefully dusted his shoulders with the other before she barked at him. “Where is my sword?”

“I left it back at our camp,” the man spat back at her in a show of defiance.

“Nathaniel, my boy,” Zan spoke before Irene could, “you took the blade with you, despite my protests.”

“Zan? Why?” Amberly could feel the betrayal the man felt after realising that the Marshal had chosen the First Witch’s side. She would have preferred that he suffered a little more for the unwarranted attack, but at the same time, the young witch felt sorry for him. Like her, Nathaniel was forced to participate in Irene’s plans as an unwilling pawn.

“I tried to warn you,” Zan offered as the woman let go of the young man. “But you and Calypso were stuck in your own little world of guilt and shame for what you did and continued to do to each other.”

“You dare lecture me!” Nathaniel roared, his hand hovering around the handle of the falchions dangling from his belt. “After you betrayed me! You have no right to talk to me, Zan.”

“I do and I will.” The former Silent Knight stood to his full height for the first time since emerging from the Wilds with the unconscious Witch Hunter over his shoulder. And Amberly had to admit that he was quite imposing, reminding her, why the man was known far end one was one of humanity’s few living heroes.

“You have not right, traitor!” Nathaniel yelled at the man, seemingly unaffected by Zan’s presence. “I’ll ask you again. Why, Zan? Because she is your mother? I doubt that monster has shown you any love to deserve your loyalty. So, do me this fucking favour and don’t insult me some ridiculous statement like this.”

“You would not understand,” the large man sighed. “However, I will admit that Irene’s heart is as cold as the frozen north.”

“Well, that hurts, Zan,” Irene’s faced twisted in a scowl. “I thought you knew me. If I did not care for you or your sister, I would have never come to your aid. It was you two who turned your back on me.”

“Yet, you never shed so much as a single tear for Sabrina or Lance!” The mighty warrior spoke with restrained anger.

Amberly could taste violence in the air and did the only reasonable thing, she became as still as a statue. She knew what the demon was capable of, and she feared what the ancient witch could do.

“I told you then and I will tell you for the last time, the boy was dead no matter what. Trying to save the little life left in him after the werewolf nearly bit his head off, would have resulted in nothing good.” The woman stared at the large man, daring him to object.

“Letting him turn so that he could heal was not an option. You are a hard man, Zan, but only on the outside. Your heart is too soft and full of compassion. If I had allowed Lance to assume his wolf form, the very humans you swore to protect no matter what would have turned on you. And killing them would have broken your heart.”

“You could have resurrected him with your craft!” The former Silent Knight half yelled; half sobbed.

“No! I would have brought back a demon-infested husk,” at that the actual demons sitting in the middle of everyone present coughed meaningfully. It was hard to tell if it was offended by the remark or getting bored by the prolonged conversation.

“Right, that’s enough of that. Now, be a dear and tell me where my bloody sword is.” Irene hissed and Amberly was amazed to see the mighty Lord Tetradon deflate, like a child facing its infuriated mother after being caught doing something bad. “You are the only one, besides me, who can wield it, albeit shortly.”

The large man looked at Nathaniel, who was still waiting for an explanation to his own question. At least the young man was smart enough to keep his mouth shut while that conversation lasted. Amberly did not want to become an accidental victim to any curse or hex flung his way.

“Believe it or not, I have seen my mother die tens of times. And every single time, she came back within minutes.” The honesty in his voice was far more impactful than the anger, Amberly had heard before.

“What happened in Esthergrad, surprised me, and I actually thought that she was gone for good. However, you took the weapon. I cannot explain or even begin to guess how you alone could withstand the cursed blade without turning into ash. If she had truly died, the entity contained within would have been let loose upon this world to exact her last revenge.” Zan looked at the demon sitting atop Calypso as it tried to pretend not to listen to their conversation. And more importantly, tried not to look at the woman in question. “Isn’t that right, abomination?”

“Well, isn’t this interesting?” Irene pressed her lips and blew out the smoke she had inhaled from the Kindra cigarette between her fingers. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me?”

“Not as such,” Ingo Nox shrugged, the beautiful mask it wore faltering for a split second. “Just my way of screwing everyone, should you succeed in your search for death.”

Irene lit the cigarette she snatched from the things hand and waited for it to continue, clearly not satisfied with the explanation. The demon sighed and stood up, rolling its shoulders and picking the imitation great sword from the shadows near it.

“Each time, you die, to the point I cannot heal you, and reach the gates of the Inferno, your body and soul are sent back to your tomb for a period of time, while we go through the same conversation over and over again. The one difference this time being, you chose to keep your memory.” The thing rose its hand to stop further comments.

“And no, it is not my doing nor that of my master. It is some unknown curse you have placed on yourself. For centuries, I’ve been trying to understand its working, but you have really outdone yourself, my dear.”

“So, you do know where my tomb is?” There was something very dangerous in Irene’s voice and Amberly was very glad she was not the reason for it.

The young witch noticed the world around them hold its breath. It was a minor change, which a normal person would miss, but it was hard to ignore for one experienced in the crafts. Even Eda Nave retreated deep into her hollowed-out soul.

“Perish the thought, my love!” The demon wearing God Slayer’s face took a step back. “Once your heart beats with life, you and I are both flung to that same outcropping in the Wilds, forced to go through the same motions as the world around us changes. Tired of this, I tempered with the enslavement hex you paced on it. When you do pass through to the world of eternal torment, the primordial thing you have mixed with Arthur’s essence would go on a small rampage on this plane of existence.”

“I’ll deal with you later,” Irene stomped on the Kendra cigarette and took a couple of steps back from the demon. “Zan, take that idiot with you and bring me my sword.” She paused for a moment before looking directly at Amberly. “Take this one too. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

If not for the warning in the woman’s voice, the young witch would have never sensed them. Spirits and very powerful ones at that were coming right at the spot where Irene stood only a moment ago. It was as if they were forming out of thin air. There were so many of them, Amberly could not count them, however, she knew that feeling of dread. They were coming along with some very strong Witch Hunters.