The air in Hell didn't burn, it suffocated.
I came to consciousness on my knees, the cold obsidian floor biting through my worn trousers. My head throbbed where one of the demons had struck me during the struggle in Thornvale. The last thing I remembered was little Mara's scream as the shadows swallowed me whole.
Now, torchlight flickered against towering black pillars, casting monstrous shadows that moved on their own. The scent of blood and something rotten filled my nose.
And he sat before me.
Lucifer.
The King of Hell lounged on a throne of twisted bones and molten gold, his chin propped on one hand like a bored nobleman enduring court petitions. His wings ,the color of storm clouds, were half-furled behind him. But it was his eyes that froze my breath in my lungs.
Gold. Not like sunlight. Like coins over a corpse's eyelids.
"Another mortal"? His voice dripped with disinterest. "Really, Asmodeus? I thought we agreed, no more playthings until after the war."
The beautiful, vicious demon who'd ripped me from my village, stepped forward with a theatrical bow. "This one's special, my Lord. An apothecary." He yanked my head back by my hair, exposing my throat. "Smell her."
Lucifer's nostrils flared. A flicker of something curiosity? crossed his face before vanishing behind a mask of disdain.
"She reeks of fear and desperation. What of it?"
"Not just herbs," purred a new voice. The female demon emerged from the shadows, her gown long falling behind her. "Healing magic. True healing. The kind that mends broken minds as well as bodies." She trailed a claw down my cheek. "We thought she might… ease your melancholy."
Lucifer's gaze sharpened.
I found my voice, hoarse but steady. "I'm not your tonic."
The Devil studied me for a long moment. Then he laughed, a sound like cracking ice. "You think I need cheering up"?
"No," I spat. "I think you're a tyrant who lets his demons pillage villages for distractions".
Silence.
A demon hissed. Another's scales rattled.
Then Lucifer moved.
One moment he was on his throne. The next, he stood inches from me, his heat searing my skin. His hand closed around my throat, not choking, but tight enough to make my breathing strained.
"Tell me, apothecary", he murmured, "when you look at me, what do you see"?
The truth spilled out before I could stop it. "A wound that won't close".
His grip tightened. Not in anger. In recognition.
"Interesting", he said softly. Then, to the demons: "Leave us."
A demon opened his mouth to protest.
Lucifer's wings flared wide, the air trembling with his power. "Now".
The demons vanished.
Alone with the Devil, I braced for pain, for violation.
Instead, he released me and turned away. "You're right, of course," he said, almost to himself. "But it's not the kind of wound your herbs can mend."
I was awestruck for a minute, he didn't seem. To threatening like the myths claimed
Then he shrugged off his coat.
And I saw it, the glowing, festering scar between his shoulder blades. Not from any blade I knew.
From a spear.
"Still want to play healer?" Lucifer asked, his voice dripping with mockery.
I squared my shoulders. "Tell me one thing first."
"Hmm?" He quizzed
"When I fail," I said, meeting those terrible golden eyes, "will you kill me quickly?"
His smile was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen.
"Oh, little apothecary," he breathed. "I won't kill you at all."
"Then what are you going to do"
He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear.
"I'll keep you."