The throne room doors burst open with a cacophony of shrieks and splintering wood. I didn't bother looking up from my goblet—another vintage of martyr's tears, this one distilled from the sorrow of widows. It tasted like salt and regret.
"We're bored," declared Mammon, his gilded robes clinking with the weight of a thousand stolen coins. Behind him, the other Sins spilled into the hall like a particularly debauched tide—Belphegor draped over maphas's shoulders, Leviathan's scales dripping primordial seawater onto the hellstone floors, even Beelzebub buzzing in with a swarm of flies forming a crude approximation of his face.
"Brooding is bad for the economy," Mammon continued, flopping onto the steps of my dais. "The torture pits are running at half-capacity. The damned aren't even screaming creatively anymore."
I swirled my drink. "And this is my problem because…?"
Asmodeus grinned, snapping his fingers. A portal ripped open behind him, revealing a glimpse of the mortal world , a moonlit village square, where women in linen nightdresses drew water from a well. "Because we're going on a hunt".
The Sins erupted into cheers. Belphegor yawned.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You're kidnapping mortals. Again."
"Not kidnapping," Beelzebub corrected, flies rearranging into a leer. "Recruiting."
"For what?"
Asmodeus's grin widened. "Entertainment."
---
The village was one of those quaint, defenseless hamlets that littered the countryside, thatched roofs, a single dusty chapel, and absolutely no protection against a pack of bored Sins.
I watched from the shadows as they descended like a particularly depraved storm.
Mammon went for the richest house first, his golden fingers coaxing the merchant's daughters out with promises of jewels. They followed, wide-eyed and giggling, until his smile grew too many teeth.
Leviathan flooded the miller's cottage, emerging with a dripping-wet redhead slung over his shoulder. "She bit me," he said, almost proudly.
Malphas, of course, took his time. He strolled into the tavern, poured the patrons a round of drinks that melted their mugs, and walked out with the barmaid tucked under his arm. She was laughing, already half-enchanted.
Belphegor sleepily ensnared a shepherd girl who'd been counting stars in the meadow. Beelzebub's flies carried off a blacksmith's apprentice, her hammer still clutched in her fist.
And I?
I stood there, nursing my drink, wondering when Hell had become so petty.
---
The throne room had been transformed into a grotesque parody of a feast hall when we returned.
Mammon had erected a golden pavilion where the mortal women lounged on piles of coin, their fingers already stained with greed. Leviathan's captive swam laps in a spontaneously conjured blackwater pool, her hair floating around her like blood in the tide. Asmodeus held court at the center, feeding grapes to his barmaid while three imps played a lute made from a damned soul's ribs.
"See?" he called as I approached. "Isn't this better than sulking?"
One of the women, the miller's daughter—stumbled toward me, her pupils blown wide with infernal magic. "You're… beautiful," she slurred.
I caught her before she could touch me. "You're drugged."
"Mmm. Maybe."She giggled, leaning in. "Do you wanna—"
"No." I handed her off to a nearby imp. "Put her somewhere she won't choke on her own vomit."
Asmodeus groaned. "You're impossible."
I grabbed a fresh bottle from a passing servant and turned for the doors. "And you're predictable."
---
The gardens were quieter now.
I settled onto the broken fountain where Delphine had once sung to the night-blooming lilies. The statues of forgotten angels watched me drink, their faces worn smooth by time and neglect.
A rustle of feathers. Asmodeus landed beside me, shifting into his human form.
"They mean well," he offered.
I snorted. "They mean boredom."
"Same thing, for them." He hesitated. "The scouts report movement in the Silver City. Michael's gathered the Seraphim."
The bottle was halfway to my lips. I lowered it. "How long?"
"A month. Maybe less.
I stared at the cracked mosaic underfoot—a depiction of the first war, the one that had cost me everything.
"Tell the Sins to enjoy their games," I said at last. "Soon enough, there won't be time for play."
Asmodeus nodded and took flight.
Alone again, I raised the bottle to the hollow sky.
"To the end," I murmured.
And drank.