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.
This is hopeless. Whatever I do, I’m going to die here.
Raising my gaze, I stare numbly at my captor. I’m imprisoned inside a pillar of fire with Armageddon. How did it come to this? I close my eyes, calling out to the igni. Don’t leave me here. Fight on. They swirl and dive through the hellfire, refusing to disappear entirely.
My back teeth lock. What did I think would happen, taking on Armageddon with untested powers? I’m an eighteen-year old girl, he’s immortal evil personified. I’m a fool.
Armageddon chuckles. “I have a surprise for you as well.” A black pit opens in the sands between us. A spirit crawls up out of the darkness, her face bloated and covered in scars.
Unholy Hell. That’s the woman I saw in the Arena, the one who sacrificed herself to the Limus demon because she didn’t think she deserved Heaven. Now Armageddon will force me to watch as he consumes her soul. My throat chokes with silent sobs.
Armageddon paces before me, his small black eyes narrowing into slits. “I’ve been following you for some time. You stopped two of my evil souls from entering Heaven. No one gets in my way without paying a price.” He glares at the miserable spirit. “I noticed you wanted to save her, so I did. For a special occasion.” A grim smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Schemes within schemes. That’s why I’m King.”
Armageddon pauses before me, his body looming above mine. “You’ve archangel blood and the old Scala’s power. You’ve moved every other demon to Hell. Yet you’re too weak to touch me.” He grins. “Want to know why?”
My voice comes out a low whisper. “No.”
“I saw your mind. You wait for someone else to shoulder your burden. Someone smarter, stronger, better.”
My eyes sting. “Yes.” Maybe if that person were here, things would be different.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, something only the King of Hell would know. Anyone seeking to become the Great Scala is evil. It’s more power than a good soul would want, or a bad soul should have. When the good take power, it’s always a service, a burden. And that makes them weak. Like you.”
Around me, the igni all but disappear. The fiery bindings on my body flare hotter. He’s right. I am weak. I can’t do this.
Armageddon snaps his fingers once more. The spirit crawls forward until she reaches the feet of the King of Hell. I see her face. Bloated. Red-eyed. Tear-streaked.
I choke back a wave of nausea. Armageddon set this soul aside so one day he could force me to watch her demise. With such evil in the realms, what can anyone really do?
Armageddon raises his pointer finger, smiles right at me, and then slowly lowers his hand toward the woman’s shoulder. Tears roll down her scarred cheeks as he touches her exposed skin. She screams as her spirit-body begins to fray and fade.
Watching her shriek, something inside me finally snaps. A realization knocks into me with a wallop. There’s no one smarter or better coming. It’s me and this poor woman and, so help me, we aren’t dying here. I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t mind the burden. I am fighting.
I raise my hand through a break in my bindings. Fresh igni swirl about my palm.
Armageddon arches his eyebrow. “You won’t win.”
“Then I’ll go down fighting.”
Armageddon’s eyes sparkle. “It’s your death, Myla.” Beside him, the woman’s body all but disappears.
“No, Myla is already gone.” I call more igni to me. They arc and dive about my arm, loosening my bindings. “I’m the Great Scala.”