Page 10

They peered up at the pavilion in unison and Zila stiffened beneath her. “Anyway, I expect soft cheese after being forced to endure this unpleasantness. Armfuls, preferably.”

“Fine. But,” Peri brushed a few curls from her face and tried to find some semblance of calm. “Maybe don’t tell your family I asked you to take me here?”

“I never tell anyone anything, if I can help it.”

Zila circled around the enormous trees, landing gracefully on the rooftop opposite the Ascension site. Peri followed, sliding onto the roof with practiced ease, crouching low as Zila cloaked them both in shadow. Before them, the crimson pavilion hovered in the air like a giant maw waiting to swallow the Ascending demonkind whole.

They arrived in slow succession—floating in on cloud-like wisps of smoke, alighting on the pavilion, and immediately huddling together like lost hatchlings. The magic surrounding the pavilion felt vicious, its weight oppressive.

A creeping malevolence crawled across Peri’s skin and she reflexively gripped Zila’s fur tighter.

Then, Peri’s grandfather, Moloch—the Grand Duke of the Holy Circle—arrived. His presence cut through the air, a soft violet hue emanating from him, his eyes glowed brightly against the darkening sky. If her grandfather was here, Peri reasoned, she must be imagining the ominous magic enveloping the pavilion. He wouldn’t partake in something that harmed others. Forcing herself to ignore the sudden prickling along her forearms, she tried to dismiss her concerns. Even still, Zila’s hackles rose in unmistakable warning.

Fear tightened around her like a noose, but curiosity proved stronger. She slowly reached for her satchel, pulling out magically enhanced binoculars—never looking away from the pavilion, where restless demonkind crowded together in anticipation of the Ascension.

Three more of Hell’s Grand Dukes joined her grandfather. There was Oleander’s father, Asmodeus, whose navy hue cut through the sea of radiant colour as he strode forth. It was odd—she never found Oleander’s deep blue skin to be anything other than obnoxiously charming, but on his father the colour felt harsh. Cold.

Belial, the Grand Duke of Floralia’s Circle, was a short, portly swampy-green demon, his slicked-back hair gleaming unnaturally in the crimson light. She knew him to be mostly quiet, preferring to be left alone to tend his massive garden—unless, like right now, it was essential he be included. Next to him stood Samael, the Grand Duke of the Acquirement Circle who had darkened his usually cheerful yellow skin to a shimmering, bloody gold.

Oberon, the gigantic minotaur who was the representative of the Fauna Circle, did not attend. No magical folk required the Ascension to gain immortality, so his absence was expected.

Peri scanned the fidgeting crowd, desperately searching for Sia’s familiar violet face. But the pavilion was a chaotic sea of colour, packed tightly as they waited for whatever came next. A thought struck her then—the secrecy surrounding the ceremony felt out of place, because wasn’t it meant to be a simple ritual?

There should have been nothing to hide. And yet.

Her gaze snapped to the centre of the pavilion as Moloch pulled out a long dagger, raising it high as he faced the assembled demonkind. The blade pulsed with vibrant, thrumming energy, and the air shivered around it. Peri's skin crawled as a quiet voice deep within her insisted this was terribly, terribly wrong.

The bitemarks on Peri’s wrists burnt as four tiny chartreuse flames sprang from the wounds. Within seconds the flames raged, licking every inch of her in protective warmth as a ring of energy shot outward from Moloch’s dagger, glowing with a blinding intensity.

As the flames abated, a force slammed into her, trying to knock her from the roof. Instead of being forced away from the Ascension scene, she found herself magically rooted to the spot.

Zila, however, began to slide away from her and Peri instinctively reached out towards one massive paw. The moment she touched the hellcat, the Bite flared again, a sudden burst of heat racing through her arm. When it subsided, Zila was still standing beside her.

Moloch held the dagger aloft, its blade gleaming with deadly intent, and a foetid silence blanketed the pavilion, mouthed screams hanging in the air. Peri dug her fingers into Zila’s fur as her heart pounded wildly, the sound of it consuming her until its thrumming was all she could hear.

She frantically scanned the crowd until she finally found Sia. Her sister’s eyes were wide, her body trembling as she feebly tried to back away from their grandfather. Scarlet flames burst from the blade as Moloch carved it through the air, as precise as an executioner's stroke.

Simultaneously, a horrific gash appeared across the neck of every Ascending demonkind. Deep golden blood gushed from their wounds in torrents, pouring onto the floor as if they were grotesque fountains.

Peri’s breath caught in her throat. A strangled “No!” escaped her lips.

Her hand stretched out toward Sia, desperate to reach her, to save her. But her sister’s eyes—those bright, playful eyes—were now vacant, her gaze empty and distant. Blood soaked the soft pink jacket she’d so carefully chosen earlier that day.

It was like being plunged into an icy lake. Every muscle locked. Her lungs refused to draw breath. Beneath the numbing certainty of what she was witnessing, her thoughts clawed at the ice, bloodying themselves against a truth they could neither escape nor accept.

Her sister was dead.

Dead.

One by one the Ascending crumpled to the ground, their bodies falling like broken marionettes. The pavilion’s pulsing magic rattled through Peri’s bones, a crimson light illuminating the grisly scene in an unnatural glow.

The overwhelming stench of blood filled her nose. She clutched her cloak tighter, trying to shield herself from the suffocating metallic scent, but it clung to her, cloying and unbearable. Her stomach churned, bile rising in her throat.

Hot tears streamed down her face, her vision blurring as her heart twisted in agony.

This was not how the Ascension ceremony had ever been explained to her—it was supposed to be a time of rebirth, not slaughter.

A gnawing emptiness in her gut screamed that something was deeply wrong.