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The first thing we heard was the river.
Its waters flowed with the same quiet rhythm as the night before, washing against the black stones as though nothing in this forsaken realm could disturb its eternal course.
For a brief moment, we allowed ourselves to believe that perhaps this place was not as hostile as it seemed.
We were wrong.
The others were preparing for our descent into the Second Ring when Levias approached the river’s edge, kneeling to examine its strange waters. The surface was darker than any river I had ever seen, almost like liquid shadow reflecting the black moon above.
“What do you see?” Lucifer asked.
Levias did not answer.
His expression had changed.
His eyes remained fixed on his own reflection.
Then the reflection moved.
Not him.
Something beneath him.
A single bubble rose to the surface.
Pop.
Then another.
Pop.
Then dozens.
The river began to boil.
Levias immediately stepped backward, his hand transforming into a blade of divine metal as his posture shifted into that of a seasoned warrior.
“Everyone,” he said, his voice cold and controlled.
“We are not alone.”
The words had barely left his mouth when the river exploded.
A mass of pale, slimy bodies erupted from the water.
Worms.
No—
monsters.
Each one was the length of a horse, their bodies covered in translucent mucus and lined with pulsing veins. Their mouths split open like rotten flowers, revealing rows of hooked, needle-like teeth designed not to bite, but to latch on and tear away flesh.
They screamed.
A high, unnatural sound that pierced the mind.
The first creature lunged toward Levias.
Before its jaws could close around him, his blade flashed.
For a moment, I did not even see him move.
Then the creature fell apart.
Its body separated into perfect pieces, spilling black ichor across the stones.
A second.
A third.
A fourth.
Each one met the same fate.
Levias moved like a storm given form, his blade cutting through the air with impossible precision.
But for every monster he destroyed, three more emerged.
The river had become alive.
“Protect the camp!” Lucifer commanded.
The brothers moved instantly.
Xolofel descended from above, striking the creatures from the air with blasts of celestial energy that shattered their bodies against the rocks.
Hexacris summoned vines of emerald light that wrapped around several worms, constricting their bodies until they burst and collapsed into pools of foul-smelling fluid.
Malazeth fought with feral joy, ripping through the creatures with savage strength and hurling their remains back into the river.
And Abathar—
Abathar was a force of destruction.
Valor and Strife danced in his hands like extensions of his own anger.
He did not hesitate.
He did not fear.
Every strike was a declaration.
Every severed head a warning.
His blades carved through the creatures with brutal elegance, cutting them apart as if he were trying to erase them from existence itself.
Perhaps he was.
Perhaps he was still angry.
Perhaps every monster he killed was a replacement for the words he wanted to say to me.
I could not blame him.
Not after everything.
A worm launched itself toward me.
I moved aside and struck it down, feeling its body writhe violently as it collapsed.
Another came.
Then another.
They had no strategy.
No fear.
Only hunger.
The stones became slick with their dark blood.
The air filled with their horrible cries.
We were winning.
Until the river went silent.
Every creature froze.
The surviving worms retreated into the water.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
That was when the river rose.
A massive shape emerged from the depths.
A creature so large that it blocked the dark moon behind it.
Its body was covered in scars and jagged teeth-like growths, its mouth opening into a cavern of countless rotating fangs.
It was the mother.
The source.
And it had chosen its prey.
Abathar.
The great worm burst forward with impossible speed.
For the first time since I had known him, I saw hesitation in Abathar’s eyes.
His blades were raised.
But he was too slow.
He knew it.
I knew it.
There was no time to think.
No time to remember his accusations.
No time to remember his hands around my tunic.
There was only one thing I could do.
I moved.
“SAMAEL!”
I heard someone scream my name.
Perhaps Lucifer.
Perhaps all of them.
It did not matter.
I pushed Abathar aside and took his place.
The monster's jaws closed around me.
Darkness.
Pressure.
Cold.
I felt its slimy body coil around me as it dragged me into the river. The freezing water swallowed my body, stealing the warmth from my skin.
I tried to fight.
I tried to move.
But its strength was overwhelming.
Above me, I could see the distorted silhouettes of my brothers reaching for me.
I saw Abathar.
His eyes were wide with horror.
His mouth moved.
He was calling my name.
The same name he had spoken with suspicion.
The same name he had spoken with anger.
Now he spoke it with fear.
The river pulled me deeper.
The light disappeared.
The sounds of battle faded.
My lungs burned.
My thoughts became slow.
Heavy.
The last thing I heard was a voice.
Calling to me.
Not from above.
Not from the riverbank.
But from somewhere deep beneath the waters.
A voice that did not belong to any of my brothers.
A voice ancient.
Patient.
Waiting.
“You have finally come.”
And then—
There was nothing.
Only darkness.