Beion wasn’t happy that he’d have to face his grandfather, nor was Aleirica. They were cowering behind Death and Ashlereina as they followed Moleira through a garden of red grass, stopping for a moment to dip his feet into a pool to cool them off.

  “Not the time to wet your feet,” Ash said. “Are they out in the training fields?”

  The sound of clashing steel and angry grunts answered for him.

  They have a fancy home, Death thought. Paid servants, clean walls, lots of chairs. This Agadeira Flame has appearance to upkeep it would seem.

  A servant opened the chained gate for Death and the others. He found the two demons hitting each other with axes, countless shields splintered and destroyed surrounding them. Armoured dummies stuffed with cotton and coal, all also in pieces.

  “You fight like a little girl!” Agadeira screamed. “You’ve lost three shields from your clumsiness! Would an enemy give you a chance to pick up another!”

  He tripped up his son, Vunadeira, with a leg sweep, raising the axe above his head in a heavy pant. “This would be your end,” he snarled. “You have to be better.”

  Vunadeira slapped away Agadeira’s hand of help.

  “Good,” Agadeira scoffed. “If you’d taken my hand, I’d’ve cut it off you. Do you think my idiot of a secondborn has finished burying that little twat that got killed by the humans?”

  Ashlereina cleared her throat. “I didn’t stay for the burial,” she said. “If you remain absent for your family’s goodbyes, they won’t bury you on our hill.”

  “I won’t be buried there, that place is for weakness. I’ll die in my own time, of my own age, in my own home, hopefully not with you by my bedside.”

  He threw down his axe and shield. He was bulkier than the other Flames, just under seven feet tall. The magnificent horns of an elder ram, dulled to a fading pink from the glorious black it once was during the days of his youth. Bald from his age but not bald of the fear he strikes into his enemies and his own family. He wore the colours of the Flame family in the form of heavy armour, pauldrons adorned with the upper half of a hellish whelp’s skull. His tail was triple the length of those around him.

  Vunadeira Flame, his heir, was only slightly taller than Death. He had all that his father once had—black horns, curly locks, a striking gaze of charming yellow eyes and deep-red skin. He wore only armour on his shoulders, protruding spikes of coal on the plates. Unlike Agadeira, he wasn’t seen as a barbaric monster. He had a soft spot for those with the name Flame, no matter their position of birth in their family tree.

  “You’ve brought a party,” Agadeira sighed. “I didn’t invite the rest of you. I only asked for Moleira. Vuna, beat your firstborn with the back of your hand next time you are alone, hard strikes. He approached without bow, without offering. This is not what I expect from my family.”

  Vuna greeted his sister with a hug. “You look well,” he said. “I hope my gift answered for my absence for little Nulo. A tragedy. Is Harva well too?”

  “As well as he could be doing,” Ash said. “We bring news.”

  “You bring humans…”

  “Humans!” Agadeira exclaimed. “Grandson, you did bring a gift for me!” He clicked his fingers at Snow. “You, into the house, my servants will guide you to my chambers. Be naked when I get there.” He clicked his fingers at Vera next. “You! The same. I will see to you both once I have disciplined my children properly.” Then he pointed at Death. “You are not a woman. You must be a servant to replace the one I squished during my training!”

  “Excuse me?” Snow squealed. “Who do you think—”

  “Your mouth has other uses, human,” he growled. “I said go, the both of you! One more word and I’ll smack the jaws off you!”

  Vera summoned her daggers and growled like a fox. Beion too clenched his fists.

  “I like them feisty!” Agadeira said. “Am I stuttering? I said go. I’ve changed my mind. Stay clothed. I like ripping it off.”

  He reached a hand for Snow, intercepted by Death’s firm grip on the Demon’s wrist. They locked eyes. Agadeira obviously towered above him, but he could sense Death was looking down on him with a silent threat.

  “Mind your hands,” Death warned. “I’m under an order to kill any that lay hands upon my companion. This is not something I have a choice over. We are not your offerings.”

  “If you’re not offerings, you’re intruders. I’ll be taking your hand as punishment for daring to touch me.”

  “You can’t lay a finger on him,” Morgudeion said smugly. “You gotta let the lad go.”

  “You brought the impish fool?” Agadeira struck his daughter, hard. “I told you he is not allowed here!”

  She wiped the blood from the corner of her lip, wiping it on the tip of her tongue. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” she said. “I’m the sponsor of the human for a challenge in the Arena of Souls. Put a hand on me, or the humans, and I’ll report your actions to the Elder Devil. You know he doesn’t mess when it comes to challenges.”

  Agadeira chuckled. “Using the challenge as a shield? What a joke of a Flame you are. When your human dies in that challenge, I will beat your beauty blue and black to make you learn that my orders are not suggestions.”

  “You won’t be doin’ that,” Morgudeion said. “She’s my wife. I should be challenging you for striking her.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Then do it, you halfwit troll. The day you challenge me is the day you grow balls between those stumps you call legs, and it’ll also be the day that you finally die.”

  Moleira stopped their fighting by revealing that Death was the killer of Aleion and Deilon. This stunned Agadeira. He sniffed the human, smelling the strength. A tiny, impressed smile curled on his lips as his grandson explained that Death had challenged Carithiel.

  “This human? He looks like he couldn’t best a baby boar.”

  Death didn’t like how specific the insult was.

  “Yeah, well, you look like a wrinkled thumb!” Snow yelled.

  Vuna laughed at the insult and receive an elbow to his liver from his father. “The jokes of the human are not funny,” he said sternly.

  “It’s not a joke!” Vera added. “You look like a pink raisin!”

  “I should cut off your heads for speaking to me that way.”

  Snow got closer to him, getting on her tiptoes to shout in into his face. “Get out of my face!” she yelled. “I’ve killed a dragon! I thought you’d be nice like the rest of your family. You’re a loser!”

  “Get out of your face? You approached me, human. I’ve never lost a battle in my life!”

  Death separated them, knowing there was some rule preventing Agadeira from harming him before the challenge.

  “There are first times for everything,” Death warned. “After I kill Carithiel, perhaps I will challenge you for the disrespect you have shown my companions.”

  “You? Please. All you idiots do is threaten to challenge me. None have had the sack to follow through. You won’t be the first.” He calmed himself, taking a step back from Snow. “You’re telling me this human killed your sons? He killed them, without a scratch.”

  “He did,” Rica answered. “I was there when he killed Aleion.”

  Beion hid the fact he saw Deilon’s death. Him and his sister both chose not to explain Death’s power, as did anyone else who knew.

  “I never asked you,” Agadeira grunted. “I asked my daughter. I never knew you were there for the Aleion’s death. Did you live by surrendering?”

  “No,” she squeaked. “My battle ended in a draw.”

  “A draw? You expect me to believe you could draw against the man who killed Deilon?” He asked the question to all present. “Do you know what this little runt was doing while I trained her brothers at this very yard? She stole eggs from the human world with Beion, endangered her gifts, all to make fucking pancakes.”

  “They are nice pancakes,” Snow said. “Maybe if you tried them, you would have went bald.”

  On a nearby fencepost there was a tankard full of ale. Agadeira grabbed it, throwing it at Rica as hard as he could, even though she was not the one who spoke.

  Rica covered her face with a quick squeak, confused. Nothing had hit her. Death had caught it effortlessly, the cup shaking in his tight grip. Most of the contents had spilled onto Death’s feet, soaking into his boot and making his toes cold and slimy. The rest had drenched the collar of his sleeve.

  You should kneel at my feet, Death wanted to say. How dare you spoil my clothing? You are an ignorant, irrelevant ape of Hell.

  Instead, he smirked and cocked his head, sniffing the cup and hiding his disgust for the smell of Hell’s ale.

  “Looks like I managed to save a quarter from your terrible aim and throw. Have it back.” He splashed what was left onto the demon’s breastplate and carelessly tossed it into Agadeira’s knee. “There you go. Next time you have a tantrum, do try to not be such a baby. Naughty demons get their heads smashed in, or taken off, just like I did to your grandsons.”

  “Are you threatening me, human?”

  “I’ve made my threats. This one is a promise. Toss another. I care little for the rules of your little arena. Go on. Try it.”

  Snow summoned Firedick, holding it awkwardly up towards Agadeira.

  “They have the spirit,” Vuna said. “They have the makings of a great demon. The three of them remind me of you in all different ways. Human and demon are more alike than I thought.”

  “That human has the Crooked Sword,” Agadeira noticed.

  “Firedick now,” Snow corrected.

  “I didn’t say you could speak.”

  “I didn’t say you could tell me what to do.”

  “You’re holding the sword wrong,” Vuna said. “Your grip with two hands, it’s wrong. Are you not trained in swordsmanship?”

  “Son, do not speak to the humans.”

  “I shall do as I like.” Vuna inspected the sword to confirm it was Deilon’s. “I see why the humans are challenging Carithiel. This one stole his sword! The courage she must have, gah. Let me train you.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Agadeira complained. “You are my son. My heir. If you’re going to waste your time training a worthless woman, it won’t be in my yard.”

  “I have my own,” Vuna smirked. “What say you, human. Do you want me to teach you how to use that weapon? Any friend of my sister is a friend of mine.”

  Snow got permission from a reluctant Death. Vera also asked to be trained out of fear of being left out.

  “The it’s settled!” Vuna shouted. “I’ll train the humans. The puny women want to be great warriors! Come to Hell when you’d like, find me and I’ll get you some meat on those sticks. You’ll be able to carry the skies of the human world on your shoulders! You’ll crush the mountains between your legs!

  It would be useful if Snow learned actual combat, Death thought. Then I could spend less time worrying about her demise while I do the fighting. Maybe she could fight alongside me one day. Gods… I truly am becoming weaker. Thinking about sharing my battles, what has become of me?

  “I don’t have a way to get into Hell,” Snow said sadly.

  “Beion will bring you!” Vuna grabbed Beion into a playful headlock, burning his scalp by rubbing his knuckles against his hair. “He will! He’s a Flame!”

  “I will!” Beion cried, trying to break free. “Release me!”

  “Ha! You’re a good lad, Beion. And between us, that hybrid seems like a good match for you.”

  Beion pretended he had no idea what his uncle was talking about. Vera, however, proudly claimed she was a good match.

  “You disgust me,” Agadeira scoffed. “Fine. I’ll invest in the skills of the human. If he dies, he dies.”

  “Invest in a wig, you damned plum,” Snow said.

  “I’m ending this conversation here,” Ash said. “There is little time until this challenge takes place. He needs to hear the rules from the Elder Devil and accustom himself to the audience of the arena, ensure that he is not overwhelmed.”

  “I am a conqueror, I do not get overwhelmed,” Death claimed. “I’ll pray for the largest audience possible. The more that see me execute this devil, the happier I shall be.”