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Prologue

"Let me out."

I slammed my battered body into the stone bars. The odorous scent of sulfur crinkled in my nostrils, burning through my senses. I held my breath. Squeezed my eyes to see something, anything in this infernal darkness. An unholy rage swelled inside of me like a tempest, as a monstrous desire to feast on blood threatened to overtake me.

I shook my head, trying to clear my rising, barbaric appetite.

I wouldn't let the monster take over.

I would. not. let the monster take over.

"Let. me. out!" I roared.

I was met with the growing crackle of fire, as the obsidian flames began licking the walls, coating every inch. I was trapped in an eternal hèls, and if I didn't find my way out, I would burn in it.

"I will not die in here," I howled. I slammed into the stone again. And again.

And again.

It wouldn't budge.

Rot.

What was I going to do? My body was already battered. Bruised. Worn down. The Fallen Angels had beaten me again, until every inch of my flesh ached with the sting of their dark majik and the licks of their Dragontail whips. I couldn't take anymore.

I had to get out.

I looked around, and was met with darkness so deep I couldn't see my marred fingers, where they'd broken the bone, torn my skin, and sowed back the flesh from the body of another. I shuddered at the thought of what they'd made me into. Then they disappeared. Left me in here to rot. To die. Until I turned into their perfect savage.

But I won't cave.

I turned around, my tattered wings dragging across the jagged, cement floor. All six pairs hung limp, more than half ripped almost in half. Skies only knew how long it would take for my wings to heal. If they ever healed at all. A knot tightened in my throat, growing by the moment with my misery. My brokenness. My despair.

But I wouldn't give in. Not just yet.

My island, Mortevain, needed me. My angels needed me. The Nanmièss—my souls—needed me to make it back home. Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I'd long since retired from shedding what little water I had left.

My chest tightened as I continued to hold my breath. A fiery trail started a buzz at the center of my chest, threatening to break loose. I had to get out of here. I found the slab of stony rock I'd been shackled to like a dog. A slave. There were no pillows. No covers. I looked around at the hovel of a cell I'd been forced to call my personal hèls for the past five hundred cycles. There wasn't an item of clothing except for the ragged loincloth around my waist. No shoes. No desk or stand. No food. No water.

Nothing.

I'd lived, survived in this wretched den of Death, with nothing for centuries.

And I'd finally had enough.

There was nothing to help me escape. A darkness within me surmounted, rolling like thunder. Unmitigated wrath exploded at the thought of my chains. The thought of no escape. The thought of the Fallen Angels toying with me, like the rot I excreted just for them to turn around and feed it to me as food to eat, every few weeks. A feral rage surfaced and I started growling. I stomped my foot again, and again. Blackness filled my vision. Unnatural strength swelled in my patched arms and legs. My bare feet were torn from the cut of the Dragontails but I didn't feel the sting. Didn't feel the open wounds that never healed.

Instead, I felt fire hot rage.

I squeezed my hands into fists, lifted my eyes to that piece of stone blocking my way again, and roared like the monster that lived deep inside of consciousness. I roared until the floors shook. Roared until the stones quaked. Roared until the darkness itself bowed.

I. would. be. free.

Snapping my wings open, I bellowed like behemoth, charging the stone again. I collided into the rock with such force, it exploded, shattering like raven-hued stars. I felt my mind, the better parts of me, the parts my Manmi had loved and cared for and raised, fading like vapor. I descended into my inner wells of the hèls and let the monster within come to life. I charged through the threshold of my prison and coughed from the ordeal. I breathed in a mountain of flame that burned through my nostrils all the way up into my brain. My feet burned from the fire that made up every inch of floor beneath. I sucked in a sharp breath, gathered my strength, and lifted my wings.

I never left the cage unless I was brought out, blindfolded, to the High King of the Souls Court, usually to be interrogated, then beaten senseless when I refused him. Zemshaza Beliah was cruel, wicked, and evil personified. None exceeded his evil more than his three elder brothers, Luzhifah, Axatazriah, and Azmodiel.

I'd never seen the Souls Court with my own eyes. Even in Zemshaza's presence, I was always kept blindfolded, until I returned to my cage. But I did begin memorizing how often we turned, flew up or down, and how far we descended.

I closed my eyes in the pitch darkness. I pushed the sting of the rushing, flames away in my mind. I ignored my pain, and I focused on myself. My six beating hearts. The blood of the Hallowed flowing in my veins. They'd done everything to unmake me. Turn me into a creature worshipped by devils. But they couldn't break my mind. My spirit. And I would use it all to get the hèls out of here.

Trying to breathe through the stench go brimstone, I felt a coolness, a lightness suddenly wash over me. Like another being was with me. And would help guide my way. I could almost feel tears burning the back of eyes for another reason.

Great burning skies.

The Infinite hand't forgotten me. He would lead me. He'd get me out of this hèllish prison.

I choked on my emotions before banishing them once more. I felt a gentle pull on my bare shoulder to the left. Without a thought I followed, stumbling over myself in the direction. I struggled to walk right. I'd lost so much muscle. Had my bones broken and re-broken in the same place over and again. Was kept often in a fetal position, shackled to the floor like a dog. Walking right now felt like learning the motion in my youngling cycles all over again.

I tripped and fell. I landed on the bone of my knee and cried out. Fire burned my eyes, and seared my skin. Bits of fleshed flaked and flew away as my skin began disintegrating beneath the heavy weight of the flames.

You're an Everlorn, I chided myself. Get. the hèls. up. now.

With shaking knees, I forced myself to a stand and stumbled forward again.

Left. Left again. Right. Up, up, up. Right. Left. Turn.

I stumbled over stony walkways, blundering my way through the Castle of Souls. My Mortent powers flared. The ethèr—the innate power of all Hallowed angels—began to stir like a smoky wind. A soothing song rose in my chest as I ached to sing to souls trapped in this court. This realm conquered and overflowing with Fallen and Damoni. As I stumbled through the darkness, crossing rocky, unstable bridges, passing beneath gothic archways, and beyond halls draped in obsidian velvet, hiding storehouses of bones and blood, I heard them. The cries of wayward souls, disjointed from their spirits, begging to be released. Begging to be free. They screamed in torment. They screamed to pleas.

I was no fool.

While a few had landed here because they'd been lured, kidnapped, or unfortunately trapped, most had been judged, sentenced, and banished here as their eternal resting place. None of these souls would make it back to the Genessiel Realm. None of them would live among the Hallowed again. They'd been stripped of their bodies and their spirits, and exiled into eternal isolation and torment.

I clapped my hands over the winged folds of my ears trying to drown out the constant screaming, begging, for mercy. For freedom. For a second chance. A petition I knew would never receive an answer.

I grieved as I selfishly blundered through this Infinite-forsaken castle, following the quiet nudges leading me to the one way I would get the absolute hèls out of here.

The Realm Portal.

The very reason the bastard Fallen had invaded my island, ransacked my angels, killed almost all of my family, and captured me, dragging me into this unholy realm. The Realm Portal connected the Genessiel and Belial Realms. The only problem was, Hallowed Angels could fly into the Belial Realm as they pleased. That was our right as angels created by the Infinite who hadn't defiled themselves with the majik of the Underrealm.

But the Fallen could never cross through the Realm Portal, accessed only the three Gates dispersed across the Sorellien Islands. Unless they had either the permission, or the blood, of a Hallowed King descended from the Orèthe—the first angelic settlers of the Islands.

Zemshaza thought I would be his gateway into Sorellien.

Zemshaza was a bastard and a fool.

A snarl to my left broke through my stupor. I froze. Closing my eyes, tucking my wings tight into my spine, I stilled my breath. I didn't make a move. A sound. The snarl slipped into the air again. Despite the endless flames in every direction, a cold sweat trickled across my forehead. Not too far in the distance, several Spirit Harvesters roamed, their six pairs of blood-red eyes scanning through the thick, black haze. Each carried in their maws the broken body of a Hallowed youngling. The younglings had been drained of all their blood, and by the lack of shine in their brown skin, I knew they had also been drained of both their spirit and soul.

I felt ill.

My stomach clenched.

Still. I did not move.

Unlike Bloodhounds and Bone Eaters, Spirit Harvesters roamed freely here without a leash. Sometimes they were part of my escort to the Fallen King. Too many times I was used as part of their meal before I was left alone to self-heal...before becoming their meal again.

The thought of their fanged teeth on my skin made me want to vomit. The creatures, from a distance, could almost pass as Seraphim, with their tall, lanky frames, bone-white skin, and seven wing pairs. But I would always know what they were.

Worst.

I would always remember what they do.

Remaining still, I ignored the burn stinging my feet, wings, and exposed skin, until the group of Harvesters sauntered past, their eyes dead, and empty, like open graves. Waiting a beat longer, until they completely faded from view, I stumbled ahead, shuffling faster towards the location of the Realm Portal. I wanted to fly, but it would draw attention. Besides, my wings were too worn. Too broken. My only hope was to make my way by foot and hope I did so without getting caught.

Slipping to a wraparound balcony area, I perched a pillar of hot stone, trying to catch my breath. I bent over my knees, struggling to breathe through the flames as the scarlet glow of six moons glowed ominously over the Castle of Souls.

The irony of my ethèr being Soul Bending, and me being dragged and imprisoned in the Souls Court, wasn't lost on me. A cruel twist of sick fate.

Blood-lit lanterns littered the outer walls, encircling the castle, as wings-shredding, midnight thorns tumbled over the sides uncontrollably. Grotesque statues, carved to mirror the endless number of beasts that lived throughout the Belial Realms, were perched on the ruined balustrade. The castle was perfectly intact, and yet it still looked like a pile of ruins. Like the visage of its former glory.

I turned from the terrifying images in stone and shuffled, gently, past the thorns. I snaked back through an archway embedded with ancient script in an unknown language, slipping back into the castle. The gentle nudge from before tugged me forward, leading me to the heart of the castle. Panic flooded my chest. In this space, I wasn't far from Zemshaza's court. If he so much as smelled my blood out here, I'd be dead.

I wanted to resist the nudge. I wanted to turn and run. But it pulled.

So I followed.

I slipped towards the center where an open space was intricately carved. There was no ceiling above, and no floor beneath. I refused to look down. I couldn't handle the amount of terror I would face seeing how far the depths went. So I looked forward.

Then I looked up.

And through the opening, I found it.

The Realm Portal.

Or what I knew it to be. The Trumpet Gate of the Sorellien Islands.

All I had to do was cross through, and I would be back home on my island. A pang of homesickness twisted in my chest. It had been five hundred cycles. It had been half a millennia too long. I was ready to go home. To return to my angels. To be welcomed back to my citizens and our peaceful ways of life. I looked different. I had been...changed. Unmade. But it was still me. And I couldn't wait to be loved back to life again.

With fresh tears prickling my eyes, this time I let them fall.

I slipped forward into the blood-red glow, and slowly opened my wings. With every ounce of strength I could muster, I pushed into the air, until I began floating up. I beat my wings gently, letting them coast me to the Realm Portal.

Close.

I was so close.

Then a slow, dark chuckle slithered into the air, withering every hope I had for freedom.

"Now, Tassarion. You weren't planning to leave without saying goodbye. Were you?"

Blood pounded in my ears.

My hearts shriveled with terror.

My knees buckled as my wings struggled to keep my ravaged body afloat in the air. I was just a few more wing beats away from the glittering tower of a Realm Portal. And I was completely surrounded.

"Tassarion, you are many things. Deaf isn't one of them." A dark flash crossed the Fallen's eyes. A twinge of irritation twisted in his cheek. "Need I remind you what happens when I have to repeat myself?"

I flinched. The image of Dragontails, talons first, sinking into my flesh and ripping it clean off the bone before being filled with hèlsfire made me shudder. Fear licked my bones. I lowered my eyes at the Fallen, while quickly scanning just how many had anticipated my escape.

"No, you do not, Hèlslord Azmodiel."

I feigned a wheeze as I counted past forty Fallen. And each had come with six Damoni, held back only by chained leashes around their necks that looked eerily closed to shadow-laced barbed wire.

"How could I ever leave your Grace without an appropriate dismissal?"

Another glance showed a long row of Spirit Harvesters encircled behind the Fallen and their Damoni pets. If the demons could be called that. Rot. I was dead. So dead.

Azmodiel smiled. The sight bowed my shoulders with a terror that could only be felt deep within ones spirit. Azmodiel had of knowledge of kindness. Mercy. And of his brothers, after Luzhifah, he was the most patient. Which made him dangerous.

From where he floated, one wing beat from the Realm Portal, Azmodiel extended his leathery wing. The wing stretched out long, then wide, until the very tip of the talon came to rest beneath my chin. I could already taste the blood through my teeth that would be bled from my whittled body with this talon alone. The spirit of the beast Azmodiel had fused into my body, turning me into the Hallowed thing I was, began to stir. I fought to reign it in. If it got loose, Azmodiel would possess my body, spirit, and control me from within. And that would give him access to cross the Realm Portal. I could't allow it.

I fought for self-control. But sensing the proximity of its master, the creature inside grew demanding. I ground my teeth, fighting to keep it tamed.

"Why do you resist, my pet?" Azmodiel cooed. He caressed under my jawline with the tip of his talon. "The true version of who you are wants to be free. Let it."

"No," I bellowed, jerking backwards. Using the purity remaining of my Soul Bending ethèr, I dove within myself, calling to my soul. It was so broken, but pockets of what the Infinite had birthed, and my Manmi had loved and raised, was still there. And it was strong enough to overpower the beast. Glittering midnight exploded in my mind, overshadowing the inky, creeping blackness trying to overtake my me from within.

Getting a hold of myself, I lifted my gaze to Azmodiel. He still wore his smile. Still kept a comfortable posture beneath his pressed, obsidian, velvet robes and the gleaming onyx crown perched on his calf-length, pitch black hair. Like everything in the Underrealm, his dark brown skin seemed to lack luster. Yet he seemed to be in the prime of life, while being the full embodiment of Death. He watched me like I was prey, and he was deciding how to attack. While he seemed to keep an easy manner, I could see by the empty black pools in his eyes, he'd grown tired of my resistance.

Azmodiel looked to the Realm Portal without moving an inch. His eyes swam to the open veil of the cosmos, swirling at the center of the gate, revealing the vast expanses of space within, before sliding back to me.

"Well, dearest pet. You're ready to go on a journey. Busy as we are, we've stopped everything we are doing, to go with you."

He smiled.

My hearts sank.

I always had a feeling escaping the Underrealm would cost me everything. I just thought I'd at least have my strength, and the full extent of my powers, when it came time to face the bloodbath.

Head still hanging, I dropped into myself, diving into my ethèr, stirring my Soul Bending.

I would cross through the portal. And not a single one of them were coming with me.

"You're not entering Genessiel, Azmodiel."

The words left my mouth in a whisper. They landed like a roar.

The Damoni were unleashed before I even had a chance to breathe.

I dropped, tucking my wings close, diving into the fiery floors below. I tumbled into the thick haze, and began drawing on my ethèr. Snarls and throat gurgling followed me as gnashing fangs snapped close to my bare heels. I raced away, hoping I had enough strength to resist.

A clawed hand swiped across my calves drawing blood. So used to physical pain, I didn't even flinch. The hot ichor poured down my legs, sending the Damoni into a frenzy. Blood of the Hallowed was their only meal, and I was losing enough to make them go mad.

I pressed into a thick pocket of haze that would make any angel or Damoni go blind. Luckily for me, I'd been paraded around this palace with my eyes shut for half a millennia. The Damoni snarled, struggling to trace my sent. I snapped my body at an angle, whipped around, and explode with black flame. They screamed and raged as their unnatural bodies mangled under the trails of fire singeing through their mangy, skeletal frames.

And as the Damoni screamed in anguish, I began to sing.

An eery, but soothing melody broke through my chapped lips. My tone was unsteady, and my voice cracked several times, but the melody still rang out nonetheless. It was soft, and alluring. A trap woven into lyric and lullaby.The host of Damoni became unnaturally still. Then their heads turned at once, looking at me with those coffins for eyes, and incisors for teeth.

I remained still. Calm. I continued to sing as I watched them shudder beneath the lull. The demons were completely powerless, lost to the thrall of my voice. My song. They had no souls, so they couldn't be possessed. But I was one of the strongest Soul Benders of my time, and I knew I could get even the Damoni to bend to my will.

I sang a song of terror, of isolation, of brokenness. I sang a song of foreboding, and also of longing for home. I sang a song of death-defying persistence and the need to get back home. I wove an instating hunger to heed to my will and abide by my desires deep into their brainless heads. I began overriding their desires with mine. I desperately wished I could grip onto something. A spirit. A soul. But Damoni had neither, so I'd have to settle for their empty heads.

I sang out the last note before settling into an eery hum that made the hair on my arms stand. Slipping closer to the horrifying creatures, born from the hèls, and kept as pets, I hummed my last. Then I flexed my palms in their direction, releasing a midnight trail of whispy shadow that speed into their skin. The Damoni contorted. Screeched. Then instantly fell silent. They suddenly, jerked, standing upright, bowing their heads my way.

And I grinned.

Angling my head up, I got a glimpse of the Realm Portal. Determination burned in my chest. I would get through that portal. Even if it was the last thing I ever did.

"Tassarion," Azmodiel cooed. I sneered at the sentiment. "What are you doing down their with our little, demon, pets?"

I didn't answer.

Instead, I whispered to the Damoni.

Then I unleashed them.

Like savage monsters, the horde of demons pushed up through the haze, racing from this lower level floor, to the open chamber with the Realm Portal. They moved like a disturbing, coordinated, unit. Snarling like savages, they burst through into the next chamber. Half the Damoni attacked their Fallen masters. The other half targeted the Spirit Harvesters.

Grinning, I closed my eyes, and settled deeper into my spirit. I opened up my eyes from within, viewing through a supernatural lens. Balanced in the thick fiery haze, I wrestled for breath among the burning flames as I vividly watched the Damoni above me tearing through the Fallen and Harvesters. I kept still to keep from drawing attention to myself, as I began to hum again. With every note, and the rise of each lyrical lilt, I directed the Damoni like puppets in a furious attack. The Fallen exploded with rage, summoning their powers on their demons. Obsidian explosions burst overhead as black blood began oozing from wounded Fallen and Harvesters. It was utter and complete chaos. Pnademonium unfolded with the constant screams of the debased angels and their unholy creatures birthed from dark majik.

I opened my mouth to sing again. Then I heard Azmodiel.

"Enough," he snapped. He was still in the chamber above. Still perched by the Realm Portal. But I heard him as if he were right next to me. Before I could take a breath, my body jerked, snapping to an angle, before I was wrenched from my hidden place in the haze, and dragged before Azmodiel.

I felt the fiery sting against my cheek, and heard the ringing in my ears, before registering he'd lifted his hand to backhand me.

I coughed, spitting out a wad of golden blood. My nose burned and my ears twitched.

"What in the burning hèls—"

"Shut your mouth, dog," Azmodiel hissed, interrupting me.

I should have left it alone. Should have kept my eyes lowered.

I didn't.

I chanced a glance up, into his eyes from where he kept me bowed low. There was no way to adequately express the sheer darkness of those pools of midnight. They glittered with a profound hatred that made me instantaneously nauseous. He was deformed in a way that showed how handsome he probably was when he was still Hallowed. Before being disgraced, exiled, and eternally cursed by the Infinite. Like this castle, his very face was a mirror of what he formerly was.

Before me floated one of the most grotesque of all created beings. Of all created monsters. He clamped a hand around my neck, his long, thick claws digging into my skin. I felt trickles of blood trailing my skin as Azmodiel glared at me.

"You will go through that rotting portal, and you will take me with you, dog." He foamed at the mouth as steam the color of the darkness night slithered out of his broken ears. His long hair slipped forward, tumbling over my face. It smelled like decay and rot. My stomach churned as I tried shaking my head, to move his hair away. "I have clearly been too kind," he snarled. "I have broken you delightfully. But you still have yet to learn what it is to truly be unmade." He leaned in, eyes boring into mine. As fear fought for prominence in my chest, something else rose beyond it.

Audacity.

Azmodiel would not keep me in the Hèls of the Fallen, any longer.

"My brothers and I have been chained to this infernal realm longer than your planet has been alive. The world of Sorellien. Hèls, the entire Ouanaviel Empyrean. Your foolish, stupid, Farasee Order. Every last one of those twelve islands belong to us. And we will have it through your blood."

Like hèls they would.

Boldness surged in my chest. Righteous fury blazed in my veins. Summoning the might of my physical strength, amped by my Soul Bending ethèr, I snapped my head back, then jerked forward, slamming my forehead into Azmodiel. A resounding crack popped in the air. Darkness swam in my vision but I shook it off. Azmodiel roared, his claws poking around the gush of onyx blood pouring from his forehead. He looked at me and snarled.

Then the Fallen Angel began to shift into his true, hèllish form. His wings enlarged. Several sets of horns protruded from his skull. One eye remained like midnight while the other became like blood. His back contorted like a four-legged beast. He transformed from an angel, to a true monster.

I stared at him a moment. It dawned on me, this was his goal with me. To turn me into this and then unleash me on the Hallowed throughout Sorellien. I had to get out of here. Fueled by fresh fire, I tugged my loincloth tight, and angled my body as Azmodiel completed his transformation. The moment he finished, I lunged for his neck.

My fist collided into his jaw before he could blink. Before he could breathe. I whipped around, snapped my wings, and slammed then once. Twice. Three times into his chest. The gaping wound at the center didn't release blood. It instead poured out ash. The stench of brimstone rose around the Fallen beast, curling my nose hairs. I breathed heavily, already getting tired. But while the Damoni were still keeping the other Fallen and Harvesters busy. I would have to deal with Azmodiel myself.

I glanced toward the Realm Portal. Toward home. I felt a pull so strong I could sense my strength rising. Growing. I thought of the strength of my Manmi. The pride of my Papi. The prankster mischief of my brother. The sweet, tender, love of life of my little sister. The thought of the Everlorns fueled me. And their legacy burned through me.

Azmodiel launched a swirling, bolt of darkness at my chest. I dodged, whipped around, and thrust out my own that exploded in his face. I rushed the angel, grabbed a hold of his wings, and by sheer strength and will, began ripping them apart.

No longer would he abuse me.

Tear.

No longer would he violate me.

Tear.

No longer would he torment me.

Snap.

No longer would he threaten me.

Pop.

I unleashed a torrent of physical violence on the Fallen, brutalizing him by force. I was to exhausted to use anymore ethèr. So I defaulted to beating the living rot out of him instead.

Azmodiel was strong.

I was stronger.

Remembering the Infinite. Remembering the Everlorns. Remembering Mortevain. Remembering my angels, I fought and fought and fought. Sweat pooled down my face as I reigned destruction atop the Fallen. just enough to buy the short time needed to get through the portal.

Azmodiel finally bent over, yielding before the torrent, roaring and raging. Without a moments hesitation, I jerked, rushing for the opening for the Realm Portal. I snapped my wings open and wide and flew. Hearts beating fast I rose higher and higher, until I entered the spotlight of glittering midnight pouring out of the realm portal. I angled myself to launch through.

Then a large, monstrous hand, grabbed my wing and yanked me.

"No!" I screamed. I jerked my body away and slapped my wings against Azmodiel, thrusting him away from me.

I shot for the Realm Portal, beginning to throw my body through. But before I completely crossed, Azmodiel grabbed my ankle.

"I curse you, Tassarion Everlorn. I curse your blood and your bones. I curse your spirit, your soul, and your mind. You will be a monster among angels. A devil among the Hallowed. You will be hated and rejected. You will never be loved nor tolerated. All who come before you will be terrified of you. You will never be free of this curse. You will never be free of me. Only the blood and bond of a Nebulari will set you free. An impossibility that will plague you across eternity. You're mine, my pet. And I will ruin you, forever."

Then he released my ankle, shoving the rest of my weight across the threshold of the Realm Portal. An invisible hand of darkness corded around my neck and squeezed as terror filled my body. I tumbled into the vast flow of the cosmos, and deep inside, the monster within no longer stirred. It awoke. It overshadowed. And before I could resist, it shackled my will, took hold my mind, and possessed my soul.