My regular self would be horrified at this moment: Lincoln in danger, my father in chains, everyone I love at risk, and all of Purgatory relying on me. But I lock those thoughts away, sealing them inside an internal vault. My mind snaps into the hyper-focus of battle mode. There is nothing but my task—moving demons to Hell—and the next step to accomplish it.
I size up Armageddon’s blows and Lincoln’s counter-strikes. The Prince can only give me a few more minutes; I need to move faster. To my right, the igni column glimmers with power as it pumps more white light into the dark clouds. I set my fingertips a few inches into the column’s sparkling skin. Igni voices grow louder in my brain. Something new joins them as well: images of demons across Purgatory.
An idea forms. I know exactly how to speed things up. Excitement kicks inside my chest.
I pump more igni into the giant soul-column, then step inside myself. It’s oddly peaceful within: no wind, no sounds, only a hallow column of bright white light. Visions flash through my brain. I picture every demon across Purgatory. Crini, Manus, Papilio…more than five thousand evil faces flicker through my mind’s eye.
Turning my gaze upwards, I propel the soul-column higher until, like a geyser, the igni blast through the top of the clouds and rain down across Purgatory.
My mouth curls into a grin. It’s working.
In my mind’s eye, I see tiny lightning bolts descend around thousands of demons. The igni spin about the monster’s bodies, holding them in place. For a moment, all my captives’ misery, hatred, and cruelty crash through me, an avalanche of evil. I sense where each one stands, what each one is, and where each one belongs.
So I send them there.
The igni whirl and multiply around every demon. Thousands of soul-columns appear across Purgatory, a demon inside each one. Their lights flare brighter, then they all disappear, taking the monsters inside on a journey to Hell.
All of them, that is, except one. Armageddon.
My brain anxiously whirls through options and scenarios. How do I get this guy out of here? Somehow he blocked my last wave of soul-columns. I can’t let that happen again.
Armageddon takes another swipe at Lincoln; the Prince blocks the onslaught. Turning toward the demon, I raise my arms to shoulder height, my palms up and flat. I call the igni to me, asking them to change their path so they no longer reach for the clouds. They obey, and the full force of the soul column careens up my body, across my arms and straight into Armageddon’s side.
Take that.
Part of me knows this is an insanely risky move. I have no idea what it will do to create this kind of connection between me and the King of Hell. I lock those thoughts away and refocus on my task: getting Armageddon out of here.
As the igni smash into him, the King of Hell lets out a spine-crushing howl. He throws his arms wide, creating a column of red flame about his body. Lincoln is blasted out of the way, the force of the red fire as strong as a grenade explosion. Leaping back to his feet, the Prince races toward me, baculum blade in hand.
My igni column merges with Armageddon’s hellfire, creating one great pillar that encases us both. I vaguely hear Lincoln scream for me outside the column of hellfire and angelic igni. He strikes at it with his baculum, but he can’t break in.
The vault where I’ve locked away my emotions starts to splinter. Fear rattles through me, numbing my mind. I now stand on the Gray Sea, face to face with Armageddon. A circle of hellfire and angelic igni surrounds us, the column ending far above us in the clouds.
More fear rockets through me. My control over the igni slips. Around us, the column becomes more hellfire and less angelic igni.
Armageddon smiles greedily. He’s winning and the bastard knows it.
The King of Hell snaps his fingers. Fiery bindings appear around my body. Panic courses through me. More igni disappear. The flames lick about my dragon-scale fighting suit, unable to break through and burn me.
Fast as lightning, Armageddon’s consciousness travels through the igni, merging with my own. Fresh terror zooms through my every nerve ending. This is bad. Very bad. An assault on my mind begins. I can almost feel his three-knuckled fingers flipping through my memories and fears, finally settling on ones that suit his dark purpose.
Unwanted thoughts overwhelm me. I try to stop them, but it’s no use. I want to run, but can’t move. One after another, images appear in my mind’s eye: the panic in Cissy’s face as a poisoned spear nears her back…The Oligarchy’s smirk as they suggest I be traded to Hell…Walker crumpling onto the floor of the Arena, his face writhing in pain after the Crini battle…Lincoln blown away by Armageddon’s pillar of hellfire…Mom’s despair in seeing Xavier’s tortured body…The gut-wrenching cycle of terror, anxiety and rage that’s coursed through me since I woke up one morning with blue eyes.
All of these horrors, all because I’m the Scala.
Despair seeps into my bones, sucking out the marrow of my fight. I never asked for this job, this burden. It’s too much for me and those I love. Before my eyes, the column becomes made of even more hellfire, far less igni. I’m losing ground.