guns and a determination to keep the bridge safe. Abram didn’t think a couple dozen guys would stand a chance against the hordes if the bridge were breached, but it seemed to make everyone feel better.
Three Scions were watching the bridge that day. There were always at least three. They saluted Summer and Abram on approach.
She waved to the guards. “Hey, guys! How’s it hanging?”
“Tucked in my sock,” said a blond Scion who couldn’t have been older than seventeen. He snickered when he added, “Ma’am.”
Abram bristled, but Summer was laughing. “In your sock? I somehow doubt that.”
“I believe that’s called a burn , son,” said another Scion, an older man with a hunting rifle. The kid elbowed him and blushed furiously.
The people that had followed them from the cathedral spread around the fissure, murmuring among themselves. The Scions parted to allow Summer and Abram to stand at the top of the bridge, looking down on the crystalline path and trying not to gag on smoke.
Abram hated everything about homecoming days. He especially dreaded the arrival of the messenger that notified them of an impending homecoming since it was that succubus, Neuma, nine times out of ten. He could never guess what kind of ridiculous outfit she would be wearing. If it weren’t a metal bikini, it would be an elaborate costume made from demon bone and feathers, or sometimes full armor with the banner of the Palace trailing behind her.
She’d tried to seduce Abram twice, too. Wasn’t even subtle about how much she wanted his cock—her words, not his. It made his skin crawl.
Each time she climbed up the bridge, Neuma made a big presentation out of announcing that more slaves had been freed and would soon be coming “home,” all thanks to the glory of the Godslayer: father of all demons, ruler of the Palace of Dis, liberator of oppressed mortals.
Abram appreciated what the so-called “liberator” was doing. He had fought alongside Elise Kavanagh and knew she was the real deal. The terrifying-as-fuck, I-hope-I-never-have-to-fight-you real deal. But Neuma’s announcements always felt like a sales pitch, and Abram wasn’t much for the emotional manipulation. The fact that it so thoroughly awed the human inhabitants of Northgate just made it more annoying.
And the days that the humans actually arrived—it was even worse.
Summer spoke suddenly. “I see them. Hey, Josaiah? Bring the blankets over here.”
The witch dragged the cart to her side. She handed a blanket to Abram then picked up an armful for herself. They were woolen and itchy. Nothing fancy, but very warm.
A woman shouted from behind them. “Here they come!”
Abram returned his attention to the fissure. Human silhouettes were almost to the top of the crystal bridge, figures distorted as they passed between dimensions. They began to stagger as they broke through. Everything about Earth and Hell was different—the gravity, the light, the atmosphere, even the speed at which time passed. It was enough to put a lot of people into shock.
The first person to reach Earth’s soil hit her knees with a ragged sob. Her head had been shaved bald. There were visible sores on her cheeks and her palms were raw. Her left foot was missing. She walked on a stump wrapped in bandages.
Summer let out an oh of pain, as if she were the one covered in lesions. She kneeled beside the woman and wrapped her in a blanket. It wasn’t fast enough—the liberated slave was already shaking hard from the change in temperature.
“It’s okay,” Summer murmured, hugging the blanket around her shoulders, “you’re home now. You’re home .”
The woman just clutched Summer and sobbed.
Northgate’s inhabitants moved in as more people emerged from the smoke. Everyone had blankets and words of kindness. Worse, all of them had knowing expressions—because they’d all been there, suffered the same things, and knew what it was to be free.
Some voices rose in joy. Most were
Three Scions were watching the bridge that day. There were always at least three. They saluted Summer and Abram on approach.
She waved to the guards. “Hey, guys! How’s it hanging?”
“Tucked in my sock,” said a blond Scion who couldn’t have been older than seventeen. He snickered when he added, “Ma’am.”
Abram bristled, but Summer was laughing. “In your sock? I somehow doubt that.”
“I believe that’s called a burn , son,” said another Scion, an older man with a hunting rifle. The kid elbowed him and blushed furiously.
The people that had followed them from the cathedral spread around the fissure, murmuring among themselves. The Scions parted to allow Summer and Abram to stand at the top of the bridge, looking down on the crystalline path and trying not to gag on smoke.
Abram hated everything about homecoming days. He especially dreaded the arrival of the messenger that notified them of an impending homecoming since it was that succubus, Neuma, nine times out of ten. He could never guess what kind of ridiculous outfit she would be wearing. If it weren’t a metal bikini, it would be an elaborate costume made from demon bone and feathers, or sometimes full armor with the banner of the Palace trailing behind her.
She’d tried to seduce Abram twice, too. Wasn’t even subtle about how much she wanted his cock—her words, not his. It made his skin crawl.
Each time she climbed up the bridge, Neuma made a big presentation out of announcing that more slaves had been freed and would soon be coming “home,” all thanks to the glory of the Godslayer: father of all demons, ruler of the Palace of Dis, liberator of oppressed mortals.
Abram appreciated what the so-called “liberator” was doing. He had fought alongside Elise Kavanagh and knew she was the real deal. The terrifying-as-fuck, I-hope-I-never-have-to-fight-you real deal. But Neuma’s announcements always felt like a sales pitch, and Abram wasn’t much for the emotional manipulation. The fact that it so thoroughly awed the human inhabitants of Northgate just made it more annoying.
And the days that the humans actually arrived—it was even worse.
Summer spoke suddenly. “I see them. Hey, Josaiah? Bring the blankets over here.”
The witch dragged the cart to her side. She handed a blanket to Abram then picked up an armful for herself. They were woolen and itchy. Nothing fancy, but very warm.
A woman shouted from behind them. “Here they come!”
Abram returned his attention to the fissure. Human silhouettes were almost to the top of the crystal bridge, figures distorted as they passed between dimensions. They began to stagger as they broke through. Everything about Earth and Hell was different—the gravity, the light, the atmosphere, even the speed at which time passed. It was enough to put a lot of people into shock.
The first person to reach Earth’s soil hit her knees with a ragged sob. Her head had been shaved bald. There were visible sores on her cheeks and her palms were raw. Her left foot was missing. She walked on a stump wrapped in bandages.
Summer let out an oh of pain, as if she were the one covered in lesions. She kneeled beside the woman and wrapped her in a blanket. It wasn’t fast enough—the liberated slave was already shaking hard from the change in temperature.
“It’s okay,” Summer murmured, hugging the blanket around her shoulders, “you’re home now. You’re home .”
The woman just clutched Summer and sobbed.
Northgate’s inhabitants moved in as more people emerged from the smoke. Everyone had blankets and words of kindness. Worse, all of them had knowing expressions—because they’d all been there, suffered the same things, and knew what it was to be free.
Some voices rose in joy. Most were
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