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It wasn’t nearly as massive as the rest of this temple. The door was made of charcoal-colored stone and inlaid with carvings and runes that looked weirdly geometrical. The runes seemed reflective almost, shining and shifting with the colored flames in this place.
“Pretty uninspiring, really,” I said.
“Uninspiring, and unguarded.”
“I thought only the passageway was guarded. You didn’t mention guards here when we were going over the plan.”
“It was a minor detail I wasn’t sure about.”
“Minor…”
“Come on. We have a job to do. As soon as we know the coast is clear on the other side, we’ll signal our rebels and rush the portal.”
Missolis was already on the move as she finished her sentence. I pulled back her arm. “Are you sure about this?” I asked.
She frowned. “Sure? Why?”
“Because it seems too easy.”
“You are starting to sound like Malachi. I already told you; the portal is useless to anyone without Light. Abaddon doesn’t care to guard it that heavily.”
“Right, but…” I shook my head, then decided against arguing. Everything about this felt wrong. Abaddon may have known that the passage was useless to others, but from the little I’d seen of the demons in the Citadel, that didn’t seem to matter; they would take anything if they thought it was worth something to someone. Still, the hope in her eyes, the desperation to see this thing done, I could only trust that she knew this world better than I did.
“Let’s go,” I simply said.
Missolis nodded, and with a quick gesture to Kainon, Etari, and Malachi, the five of us broke away from the main group of pilgrims and made a move toward the throne room door. There were no guards anywhere up or down the temple hall, no one to stop us from approaching it. No one to stop Missolis from pushing it open, or even peering into the throne room on the other side.
The coast was, in fact, entirely clear, allowing all of us to filter into the throne room without being stopped or called out.
The room itself wasn’t nearly as big as the temple, but it was just as imposing. Abaddon’s throne stood alone in the center of the room, a monstrous construction easily fifteen feet tall with steps leading up to its seat. It was covered in spikes and spears, onto which skulls had been impaled. The ground beneath the throne was a gray, cold-looking stone that muted the green light from the candles and torches lining the walls.
It looked as I had expected.
What I hadn’t expected was how empty it was. I had expected soldiers, Hell, I had even expected Abaddon. Any of those things was preferable to the utter silence and emptiness of this place. This was Abaddon’s throne room; the seat of his power, and the mouth of one of the only portals out of Hell. I didn’t care what Missolis thought—this place should have been crawling with demons.
The fact that there weren’t demons all over the place made me entirely uneasy.
“Over there,” whispered Missolis. “The passage lies behind his throne, against that wall.”
I couldn’t see anything along the wall behind the throne. It was solid, unbroken, and unlit. I had suspected a portal to Earth, or a passage, or whatever Missolis wanted to call it, would’ve been an obvious landmark in this room, but I couldn’t see it, and that made me even more nervous.
Etari and Kainon were quick to follow Missolis as she made her dash toward the throne and past it. Malachi followed, though he stopped to look at me, frowning. With a wave of his arm, he quickly hurried me to him because I hadn’t yet moved from where I was.
I shook my head.
“What?!” he mouthed. “We have to go!”
“I don’t like this!” I hissed. “We shouldn’t be here!”
Malachi seemed torn. On the one hand, we had reached the throne room without issue, and there were no guards barring our passage to the portal. On the other hand, he also noticed that something wasn’t quite right. When Missolis reached the wall, she started patting it with her hands. She was moving up and down it, searching for something but not finding it. When she smashed her hand against the wall and hissed the word fuck, I felt my stomach drop, and all the blood rushed from my face.
“Where is it?!” asked Missolis, her harsh whisper rising above the silence.
Malachi looked over at her, then back at me. A silent arrow appeared in his chest, blood blooming on his robes from the unexpected wound. His eyes widened, his body stiffened, and he crumpled to the ground. I was about to race toward him, when I felt a blade press against the soft flesh of my throat.
There was a demon beside me. She had come from nowhere, clad in thick, darkened steel armor with swirling black holes for eyes and skin a pale alabaster. Her eyes narrowed, her blade tightened against my throat, and she leaned in closer.
Took a whiff of my hair.
