

Lucifer's Odyssey

The Primal Patterns Series: Book 1

Rex Jameson

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011-2017 by Rex Jameson

All rights reserved.

Sixth Edition (2017)

ISBN (Electronic): 978-0-9839351-0-0

ISBN (Paperback): 978-0-9839351-7-9

This book is a work of fiction. Incidents, names, characters, and places are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual locales, events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover illustration by Christopher Steininger

Edited by Derek Prior

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### Table of Contents

Title

Dedication

Back Cover

Author's Note

Prologue

Chapter 1. An Earthly Imprisonment

Chapter 2. The Interrogation

Chapter 3. The Heist

Chapter 4. The High Council

Chapter 5. The Lottery Winners

Chapter 6. From One Prison to Another

Chapter 7. Courting the Council

Chapter 8. The Making of Enemies

Chapter 9. The Executions

Chapter 10. Parting Gifts

Chapter 11. The Lesser of Three Evils

Chapter 12. The Goblin Realm

Chapter 13. The Certamen

Chapter 14. Game Changers

Chapter 15. The Coronation

Chapter 16. Returning to Order

Chapter 17. Meeting with Jehovah

Chapter 18. Waking the Wizard

Chapter 19. Wedding Preparations

Chapter 20. The Mad Scientist

Chapter 21. The Battle at Bulger's Pass

Chapter 22. The Chaos Primal

Chapter 23. Meeting the Architect

Chapter 24. The Crown Prince Returns

Chapter 25. Bonus: Horace's First Lesson

Acknowledgements

About Rex Jameson

Other Works by the Author

To my great uncle. You may no longer be with us, but you will be remembered by all who knew you. You had that effect.
Back Cover

Imagine a war between angels and demons that extends across our universe. Now, think bigger. Imagine that the fight between Lucifer and Jehovah extends across not only our universe but also involves two more ancient universes filled with demons and elves.

The Lucifer's Fall trilogy of the Primal Patterns series is the story of the most celebrated demon warrior and king in history, and the birth of a moral and intellectual renaissance in the Chaos Universe. The first book, "Lucifer's Odyssey", traces the demon prince Lucifer from his imprisonment by Jehovah on Earth to the betrayal of his parents in Chaos and a shaky alliance with the Elven people. Filled with irreverent humor and fast paced action, Lucifer's Odyssey beckons you to take a journey through space and time into a story where elven technology meets the ruthlessness of the demon race and the potential of Jehovah's great creations.

"Lucifer's Odyssey" is the first book of the Lucifer's Fall trilogy, and book one in the Primal Patterns series.

### Author's Note

Because this series presents Jehovah, Lucifer, angels and demons in a non-canonical way, I wanted to very quickly discuss some of the more jarring deviations and explain why these changes were made. This will hopefully make the transitions more comfortable for you, the reader.

The Primal Patterns series evolved out of a love of philosophy, history and of various types of fiction by heroes of mine like Plato, Zelazny and Vinge. Out of sciences like quantum mechanics, which are so much more thoroughly bizarre than these tomes. It sprang forth from eternal questions regarding why certain parts of historical and religious canon might differ so wildly from what we've perceived through sciences like geology, physics, and the study of time and space since humanity's first narratives were written. It also came from a desire to describe how those old stories and these new understandings might coexist.

The Primal Patterns series will not always be about Lucifer and Jehovah, but for this first trilogy, it does include them as central characters. Before we begin, I think it is best to seed your brain with some simple truths, as far as this book is concerned. Jehovah is the Old Testament. Gaea is the New. Lucifer is the past that Jehovah seeks to leave behind and put asunder.

And Sariel? He is Loki. He is the imp on our shoulder. And much of his personality is based on characters from our past in a privileged, strained relationship like Phillipe I and his brother Louis XIII once had, but taken to an immortal extreme.

In this sixth edition, I have added a bonus chapter that helps describe what the primal patterns are. If you get confused, skipping to there may be helpful. I hope you enjoy the series.

### Prologue

On Loss and Temptation

King Ostat had been so distraught and hungry for retribution after the death of his son Michael that he had sent his best—his heir apparent—to make sure the killer was brought to justice. Lucifer had been only too willing to go—volunteered for it, in fact. And after 200,000 years and a trillion light years of traveling through vortexes and flinging himself from planets, asteroids and moons, the heretic who had killed Michael was finally within reach.

Lucifer was one of 25,000 greater demons taking this trip—a mission drafted by the Council of Wizards and ratified by his father the King. He had only brought along his best men—his personal legion—to ensure vengeance would be swift and final. And with the victory so guaranteed, his mind had naturally moved on to the task of ensuring that no one like Jehovah would ever rise to such treachery again.

The Council of Wizards would disapprove of him returning to Chaos and burning down the Chaos Library, but he was certain his father would understand. The Library was the source of the corruption that twisted Jehovah and his cadre of Intellectuals—the label the Council had given the crew of researchers who had backed the plot to kill Michael and corrupt nature with another primal pattern. The Library had taught Jehovah about the patterns, and to Lucifer, it was obvious why no demon should ever be tempted with such knowledge again. But before the Library could be burned to the ground, he still had to kill Jehovah.

Because of his status as Crown Prince, Lucifer was leader of the expedition, but his deeply-scarred uncle Batarel had dominion over the wizarding corps—a small, independent group of greater demons who had been trained to harness the other-worldly powers available to them through the Chaos primal pattern, the projector of his universe. Because Lucifer was royalty and expressly forbidden by the Council of Wizards to learn most types of magic—even the rudimentary communication channels that his uncle and brother Sariel sometimes talked about—the primal had always been a dangerous enigma to him. His fear of the primals was not entirely unjustified. History was littered with legends of creatures that had destroyed solar systems after they had become too drunk with knowledge of magic, and these tales were the source of the fear that brought the Council to power in the first place.

When it came to pattern magic, Lucifer really only knew how to deflect it with his wings—extensions of his soul from the primal pattern that hardened as they met the harsh conditions of the projected universes. These powerful soul tendrils were also the main locomotion mechanisms that enabled his men—the greater demons—to travel so quickly through the cosmos. While he traveled through asteroid-less pockets, the wings streamed behind him like the tail of a crimson comet. In the deep cold of space, the surfaces cracked and spread like lava through a volcanic fissure, but in the primal, he imagined his soul as ethereal—like the goblin forgewrights who bathed in the swirling plasma of distant stars as they crafted the fine zinanbar armor that each demon wielded against other immortals.

A series of tendrils thrust into his periphery. These wing maneuvers were choreographed by the Signal Corps—the communications department of the Chaos mobile infantry. Each wing color and fixed position represented a character in the military lexicon, and like all Chaos officers, he had been trained how to interpret the signals during his basic training. He had never mastered the color-changing himself—his temperament was too volatile to keep his wings in stasis—but he could certainly understand the messages from the demon behind him.

_Target ahead_ , the signal officer messaged. _Please advise._

He smiled as the blue-and-green dot came into view, shimmering from the light of a local sun. He turned his body toward the pursuing legion, admiring the 25,000 comets behind him—each promising doom to Jehovah and the new pattern that Batarel and the Council swore was waiting for them down on Earth. The pattern would supposedly be taken care of a couple hundred thousand years later when the black holes arrived. His legion's job would be to ensure that Jehovah and his Intellectuals were dealt with before they could divert the apocalypse. In short, all Lucifer had to do was kill his cousin and the Intellectuals.

_All ahead_ , six of his tentacle-like wings signaled while two others propelled him faster with debris from an asteroid belt. _Capture all immortals, and wait for me._

His uncle Batarel ejected a few bursts of raw energy from the primal to bring him alongside and nodded at Lucifer through a frosty sheen. Sariel joined Lucifer from the other side, but spent more pattern energy warming his body than locomotion. Sariel was always horsing around. He made a big show of his lack of effort with a series of lazy backstrokes, while Lucifer worked his wings fiercely against asteroids and debris in order to keep the same pace.

Sariel had always been a royal pain and Queen Olivia's favorite—perhaps the only reason the Council had allowed a demon in the line of succession to enter the Council of Wizards in the first place. King Ostat had to sign a very strict, binding contract for Batarel to take in the wily prince and only as an assassin apprentice with marginal magical clearance. Sariel had always taken a particular glee when knowing something that Lucifer did not, and pattern magic had been his ultimate triumph—restricted knowledge that Sariel was only too happy to rub in Lucifer's face.

Lucifer cleared his mind of his brother's mischief as he rocketed into Earth's atmosphere, his tendrils flared out and stretched down to the surface, leaving miniature craters everywhere the flexible, spade-like wing endings impacted the ground.

Jehovah was not hard to find. His bright white wings arched into a retracted, relaxed position behind him, and a series of six similarly clad individuals surrounded him in a lush oasis on one of the greener continents.

Lucifer was always the first to land and last to leave a mission, and his brother and uncle respectfully backed off of their approach to ensure he would do so again. He slammed into the ground, scattering mud and grass around his impact crater. Behind him, a cacophony of rapid booms jarred his red-and-black armor—which Lucifer felt was a nice effect. He did not have to turn around to know that 25,000 demons glared at Jehovah with the same menace and anger that he did.

The white-bearded and long-haired Jehovah kept his arms crossed into the sleeves of his cotton-like robe, non-plussed by the new, malevolent arrivals. His bulbous, gnarled nose sniffed at the air around him before sneering somewhat with a quick, sidelong glance to Lucifer.

"Lucifer," he said, nodding as he continued to walk past him, surveying nearby plants and smiling. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen!"

Jehovah's wife Gaea and five excommunicated wizards stopped abruptly, each eying Lucifer and keeping their distance from him. The brown-haired, fair-skinned Gaea gave her husband a somewhat disappointed look, but the others chuckled at his words.

Lucifer's jaw clenched. His brother's murderer was so close that he could smell the killer's sweat. "You and your Intellectuals have been convicted of crimes against the royal family."

"On what charges and on whose authority?"

"You have been found guilty of the murder of Michael Kadingir, my twin brother, and you know damned well whose authority. The Courts of Chaos and the Council of Wizards declared—"

"We recognize no such authority," Jehovah said calmly.

A series of muffled insults spread throughout Lucifer's legion. "Traitor," some of them whispered. "Heretic."

"Be quiet," Lucifer said, holding up his hand and gritting his teeth as he stepped closer to Jehovah. The Chaos oracles had shown him and his father the moment that Jehovah had pierced Michael's chest with a six-foot zinanbar blade, and the image was still burned into his memory. It overlaid the jungle around him, and he found himself breathing quickly and shallowly—his heart beating like a war drum. Lucifer summoned his blade from its nook inside the ether—the only pattern magic he or anyone outside of the Council were allowed to learn—and dragged its blade tip through the wet earth.

"This is not what you think—" Gaea said, her eyes flitting between Jehovah and Lucifer.

It was Jehovah's turn to hold his hand up for silence, and Gaea obeyed.

"So, you've come here, to my seat of power to try to kill me," he said.

"There is no try," Lucifer said.

"You have been forced into ignorance by the Council. They send you, a million-year-old boy, into my new pattern. Why do you think they would do that? You're a pawn in another's game. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"I know exactly why they sent me here. I volunteered. You killed my brother."

"Hardly," Jehovah said, bending over to smell a flower that he had probably cultivated and evolved over many thousands or even millions of years. "He's moved on to something better. He doesn't have to live under the shadow of his father anymore. He doesn't have to worry about being told what to read, who to talk to, and the artificial limits that he must abide by. I haven't killed him. I've set him free."

"You dare speak of my brother like this?" Lucifer growled. "You have the gall to speak of his life as if it was so meager and trite that he no longer deserved to experience it?"

"Of course not," Jehovah said. "He deserved better. Tell me, in your oracle visions, was Michael kneeling before me? Prostrate and waiting for my blade?"

"You brainwashed him," Lucifer said, gripping his blade and hoping that the gray-haired monster would simply look at him for long enough to watch the sword pierce his chest. "You're out of your mind."

"I'm not the one who's lost my mind," Jehovah said, still refusing Lucifer the whites of his eyes. "You were born lost. You let the Council dictate every aspect of your life. You let them tell you what to learn and who to associate with." Jehovah looked at his wife Gaea. "Ostat must not have found you a bride that would solidify his power, or you'd be married right now."

"You dare speak of my parents after what you've done to them?" Lucifer grunted and huffed as he took a step toward his brother's killer.

"Lucifer, hold on," Batarel said, grabbing Lucifer's shoulder. "This is too easy."

But Lucifer saw red. The image of Michael sliding down Jehovah's sword in the oracle's viewing orb was too real in his mind. He felt himself tearing up, and he refused to cry in front of his men. He shrugged his uncle's hand from his shoulder and marched quickly and fiercely toward Jehovah, who now turned fully toward him.

Jehovah's arms spread wide, and he grinned—not unlike a madman. Lucifer's long, black sword plunged into his cousin's stomach, and despite the pain, Jehovah stared back at him.

"You fool," Gaea said. "You don't know what you've done!"

"Kill the others," Lucifer said as he pulled the sword upward, watching Jehovah's face as the life drained out of him.

Behind him, he heard the sound of metal slicing through fabric, meat, and crunching bone. Not one of the Intellectuals cried out. The only sounds were gasps and wheezes as they pressed their hands against their leaking innards.

Jehovah's eyes spent a few seconds taking in the gore to his left before the lifeless body slid down Lucifer's sword, exactly like Michael had several hundred thousand years ago but on Jehovah's. Lucifer wondered if Michael could see him now—if he knew the lengths his brother had gone to secure his vengeance.

"Batarel," Lucifer said. "Are there any other immortals on this planet?"

"No," his heavily scarred uncle said, searching around with more than just his eyes. "Not that I can detect."

Some of the demons started to fan out into the jungle to look for signs of other immortals. Others were probably searching for food—a luxury for an immortal and one that was certainly well-deserved for his men and their families, the ones who had come along. Lucifer returned the smiles of men and women who now bit into the fresh fruits that the lush vegetation provided them.

Just as Lucifer was about to address his legion, a shimmer—much like a magical shield that the wizards might use—bubbled around his location and then quickly extended into the sky. He watched it until it merged with the blue atmosphere high above. His agitated wing tendrils danced around him, expecting a fight.

"What was that?" Lucifer asked.

"I have no idea," his uncle replied.

Lucifer looked at his brother Sariel.

"Seriously?" Sariel asked. "You think I would know when he doesn't?"

Lucifer's smile had long vanished. His instincts told him that he and his men were in danger.

"Round everyone up," Lucifer said. "We're leaving."

"Tell them to drop the food," Batarel said, eyes still focused into the heavens. "We need to get out of here."

"I thought you said you had no idea what it was."

"I don't," Batarel said, surveying the sky again before looking over the bodies. "That's what has me worried. I told you it didn't make sense for Jehovah to go so quietly. This smells like a trap."

"Form up," Lucifer commanded as he extended his wings hundreds of feet into the air to mimic his words.

Orderly retreat. Target Chaos.

The greater demons of Lucifer's legion formed into tight groups by squad and a giant rectangle of demons and armor took shape in front of him. The wizarding corps instead encircled Batarel. Lucifer's personal bodyguard regiment, headed by Colonel Azazel and Lieutenant-Colonel Beelzebub, cast worried looks at each other as they took their places in a circle around the Crown Prince.

"Everything OK, boss?" Azazel asked.

"We'll find out soon enough," Lucifer said.

His wings bent into an eight-way fork above him—the universal sign for _Begin_.

The wizarding corps around Batarel and Sariel blinked out of existence, leaving his uncle and brother to wait alongside Lucifer—as was the custom. The other 25,000 demons outside of Lucifer's bodyguard regiment punched their wings into the damp earth, flinging mud, water spray, and plants across the sky. They launched in perfect formation, and Lucifer grinned as he watched them rocket through the clouds. He had spent nearly a million years with these men and their wives and children. He knew each of their names. He had been to many of their weddings and parties.

He was proud of them—proud of their perfect formations and the way they followed him anywhere, even into the unknown. They were the best. He had made sure of it by adding his own blood and sweat into the personal training of each demon.

He dug his own wings into the ground, and his bodyguard regiment followed suit. He looked up into the sky and prepared himself to push off the strange world—this Earth that would be destroyed in the blink of a cosmic eye.

A fireball and sonic boom from high above knocked him out of his contemplation.

"What the—"

Tens of fireballs erupted around the first one. Then hundreds. Then thousands.

"Batarel, what—"

"Stay on the ground," Batarel screamed, toppling some of the men near him into the dirt. "Abort your launches!"

Lucifer's arms gave out and his knees went numb. He fell over, still watching his men clawing at air with their wings to try to stop their ascent as large multi-colored snakes fell past them. He knew what the string-like things were. He had seen wizards fry enough demons in battles throughout Chaos and the Goblin Realm to know what happened when pure energy from a primal pattern hit the softer tissues of a demon's body.

"No," he whispered. "This isn't happening."

Sariel's hand found Lucifer's shoulder.

"Killing Jehovah must have done something," Sariel said. "That shimmer must have polluted the world somehow."

"How do we get out of here?" Lucifer asked, wiping tears from his eyes as he imagined the faces of his friends amid their violent, fiery deaths in the atmosphere.

"I'm not sure," Batarel said.

"Can you contact your wizarding corps?" Lucifer asked, sniffing and forcing the hallucinations out of his mind as his training and discipline returned to him. He did not have time to lament—not yet. Those who remained alive still depended on him. "Did they make it?"

"I'm waiting for them to contact me," Batarel replied. "I have no idea what forming a channel across this barrier would do to me. I might be opening a low-pressure area to the same raw magic that just destroyed our legion."

Lucifer swallowed hard as the words sunk in. _Destroyed. Legion._

A rustling in a nearby bush broke Lucifer from his melancholy. He gripped his sword and leapt to his feet and wing-spades. His bodyguards came to attention and fanned around him with swords drawn. Batarel and Sariel raised magical shields around themselves. Faced with the unknown and machinations of a pattern magic genius, Lucifer found himself jealous of his brother Sariel's knowledge once again.

"Who goes there?" he yelled. "Show yourself."

But no one came forth. He pushed through his bodyguard circle and drew his six-foot zinanbar sword to shoulder level, poised for a killer strike.

"Come out. We have you surrounded."

A grunt and a frightened squeal came from the bush. It sounded like a demon.

He rounded on Batarel. "I thought you said there weren't any other immortals here."

"There aren't," he said.

"How do you know?"

"I can't sense a zipline anywhere."

A pair of brown eyes peered at Lucifer from voids in the bush, and a long-haired female stood up. The musculature looked demon, but she had no wings.

"By the Gods!" Lucifer said. "Jehovah's bred lesser demons!"

"I don't think she's one of us," Batarel said as the ebony-skinned woman hid behind the bushes again.

Lucifer searched the nearby area for a peace offering. He sent a tendril into a nearby tree and wrapped one of his wing-spades around a spherical, thick-armored fruit. He snapped it from the tree and moved it slowly toward the woman. She broke a branch from the bush and prodded his crimson wing with it.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, snaking the wing through the grass and offering the fruit to her a few feet from the bush she hid in. He smiled as she continued to poke at it.

She licked her lips and cautiously left the safety of her refuge.

"She's stark naked!" Sariel said. "Do you think she has the same parts?"

The woman recoiled from his loudness and began to retreat into the vegetation.

Lucifer put a finger over his mouth and shot Sariel a warning look. "You're such a git!"

"It's an academic question!" Sariel said, appealing to his mentor, but Batarel and Lucifer both ignored him.

"Can you talk?" Lucifer asked. "Did Jehovah teach you to speak?"

The woman cautiously peered out of the bushes. He waited for her, but she did not reply.

Lucifer took a step toward her and then another. She cocked her head as she picked up the odd fruit and pressed it to her chest.

"If we can't make channels," Sariel said, "then how are we going to get out of here before the apocalypse hits?"

Batarel shrugged and squinted at the dark clouds far above them—the ones that kept raining darkened remnants of demon wings back to Earth. "Even if I figure out a magical way—a transport or something—we'd still have to find a normal way for Lucifer and his bodyguards to get out of here safely."

Lucifer shook his head as Batarel confirmed his suspicions. If it came down to a decision between him, the Crown Prince, dying or Batarel being forced to break the Council laws, his uncle would choose him dying. It was a sobering thought.

"How did the goblins do it?" Lucifer asked, inching closer to the woman as she grabbed a sharp rock and pierced the thick shell of the fruit he had given her. He gave Batarel a meaningful look.

Batarel raised his hands. "The goblins were never trapped in an unknown atmosphere that had just vaporized 25,000 of their men."

"That's not what I meant, Uncle. Goblins don't have wings. When they travel through space, they use technology."

"Lucifer," Sariel said, "we don't have goblin tech."

Lucifer sighed and pointed at the woman, who was methodically prying the rigid shell from the fruit with the sharpened rock. "But we do have her."

"What's she got to do with anything?" Sariel asked. "Are you trying to tell me that she's a goblin? I spent a lot of time in Arnessa, brother. I had the opportunity to study goblin female anatomy quite intimately. She's not—"

"Get your head out of the gutter for five minutes," Lucifer said. He continued to point at her and smiled encouragingly as she finished opening the fruit and bit into it. "We don't have goblin tech, but we probably don't need anything that advanced to punch through the magical shield up there."

"I can't even be sure it's pattern magic we're dealing with," Batarel said, "Even if the entire High Council were sitting here right now, they would be just as dumbfounded as I am. Whatever these creatures are capable of, it might never be good enough."

Lucifer slammed a wing into the ground between him and his brother and uncle. "What would you have me do?"

The woman retreated farther into the bush.

"I'm sorry," Lucifer said, removing his wing from the crater he had made and watching her eyes follow the spade-end as it danced around naturally like the tail of one of the larger cats he could see roaming in the thicker brush. "I lost my temper. I mean you no harm."

"Look," Lucifer said, turning back to Batarel as the woman reached toward his wing. "When the apocalypse gets here, the black holes will siphon away parts of this planet the moment it hits that outer asteroid belt, right?"

Batarel shrugged. "They're fast movers and will disrupt the solar system long before they get here. As for when the atmosphere will be sucked into the event horizon of one or more of them? I'm not sure, but we're talking one hour at the most."

"Worst case," Lucifer continued, "we wait for that atmosphere to get sucked into space and we make a run for it. I've watched these things before from afar. After the atmosphere is gone, we use what rubble we can from this rock to spring free of the coming event horizons. We get out of here, and we make our way back home."

"It might work," Sariel said, looking at his uncle, who nodded again. "It's a small window of opportunity, but it seems possible. We'll certainly have time to run the calculations."

"In the meantime," Lucifer said, looking at the woman as she tore into the soft flesh of the fruit, "we train these creatures."

"Train them how?"

"However you can. Teach them whatever you know."

Sariel grinned and rocked on the balls of his feet—obviously toying with his brother. Lucifer frowned at him.

"What?" Sariel asked with obvious mirth. "I'm no engineer, and I'm certainly not teaching her pattern magic. The Council would kill me! I'm only good at a couple other things: breaking hearts and stabbing them—and I'd rather not teach her how to do the latter."

"She'd need zinanbar to kill you," Batarel said, leveling a gaze at his student. "Or a deeper understanding of the primal patterns, and as long as you keep your mouth shut and your sword in your pants, she and her descendants will have neither."

"Sariel," Lucifer said, trying to control his temper but looking at his brother very directly. "I just watched my legion die right in front of me. Every single one of their deaths is my fault. I'm not in the mood for your shit. Now is not the time."

"You have your way of handling things," Sariel said. "I have mine."

Lucifer held a finger up. Then another. His brother knew what would happen if he made it to five.

Sariel opened his mouth to say something else but thought better of it. He waved and walked into the tree line.

"We teach them," Lucifer said, "and advise them. We do whatever it takes to get them to a technology level where they can punch us through Jehovah's magic and into space. Once I get near that moon and into an asteroid belt, I'm on my way back home."

"Understood," Batarel said.

"Azazel and Beelzebub," Lucifer called, "I need you and the other guards to search the area for more of these creatures. She must have a mate around here somewhere."

The demons saluted and ordered the rest of the men into the surrounding jungle. Everyone seemed eager to get to work doing something other than watching the wings of friends and loved ones falling from the sky. As the remainder of his legion disappeared into the foliage, Lucifer turned back to the woman. He placed a hand on his sternum and approached her very slowly.

"Lucifer," he said firmly, pointing to his face and tapping himself on the chest. "My name is Lucifer."

She tried the word several times, and Lucifer patiently repeated it until she mouthed the words correctly. He was as happy as she was to see her get it right. He picked another fruit from the tree and approached her slowly with the apple-like reward nestled snuggly in the spade-end of his wing. He offered it to her and smiled cordially, welcoming her forward.

"Eve," she said, tapping her own naked chest and taking the fruit and caressing the cracked, glowing exterior of Lucifer's wing. "Eve."

He spoke her name, and she grinned and nodded reassuringly—his own personal alien tutor. It was the second time today that someone had taught him something, and even though he had watched Jehovah die, he felt like the lesson plan was not quite finished. Jehovah was still out there, watching him, and probably hating him for not perishing in the atmosphere like the rest of his men.

The thought made him feel better.

"Good," he said, smiling at Eve. Perhaps Jehovah had underestimated the Crown Prince almost as much as Lucifer had underestimated him. "It's a start."
Chapter 1

An Earthly Imprisonment

"So, what brings you to Nashville?"

"Lookin' for the devil," Michael said after downing another swig from a Yazoo pale ale.

Adrian, the bartender, leaned in close enough to whisper. "How will you be able to tell him from the rest of the room?"

"Horns, red body, the usual..."

"I would have remembered that kind of guy," Adrian laughed as he sloshed a wet rag down on the polished wooden bar, picked up some left over pilsners, and wiped away the condensation rings. "But this is Music City, and we get people slinkin' in from all over."

Michael watched four males enter The End of the Line bar and recognized each of them immediately. His brother Lucifer and uncle Batarel cast sidelong glances at the TVs as they looked for four open seats, while his runt of a brother Sariel bumped into just about every woman at the bar, offering apologies and the promise of a drink to make up for it. Azazel, Lucifer's bodyguard, looked directly at Michael, causing him to divert his gaze for a moment.

"Toss me another beer," Michael called to the bartender.

"You got it."

The demons wore leather jackets, t-shirts, and jeans, but their human disguises couldn't fool Michael. Lucifer came so close to him that Michael could have run his hands over his brother's stubbly brown hair, and Sariel came even closer as he managed to press a woman into Michael during his search for a number. A couple of the women pulled at Sariel's long, wavy brown hair, but he made excuses and caught up with his brother.

Batarel's shaved head and assorted facial scars attracted a lot of looks and even a few praises from drunken men for his service to their country. He smiled and nodded in return but followed closely behind Lucifer, as did Azazel, who was wearing a baseball cap and eyeing everyone around him warily.

The demons weren't the only ones incognito. Michael knew that none of his family members would recognize him without using pattern magic. Jehovah had raised Michael from the Hall of Souls into the body of a forty-year-old human, so he looked nothing like he used to. But this was no ordinary body; it had all the strength of his old demon form, and he could feel the tendrils of his wings moving under the skin of his back.

He looked around at the many humans who drank and partied, unaware they were in the midst of a civil war—a conflict rooted in millions of years of disagreement, politics and strife between parents, siblings and cousins.

"The Apocalypse is almost here," Lucifer said, draping his arm around Sariel and grinning from ear to ear. "Just one more year until we're out of here."

"Keep your voice down," Batarel said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, Luke," Sariel said, pointing down at a large belt buckle that said _Everything's bigger in Hell_. "Subtlety, brother. Subtlety."

Lucifer put Sariel in a headlock, gave him a noogie, and pulled him toward the back of the bar. "After 200,000 years of being trapped on this rock, I can't help but be excited. We'll finally be able to look our father in the face and tell him that we avenged his son's death."

Michael laughed. His brothers hadn't avenged anyone—least of all him. Michael was alive and well, reincarnated through the Hall of Souls, and everything was going according to Jehovah's plan.

Yet here his brothers were, once again, over confident in their abilities and mouthing off about their success in thwarting Jehovah. The last time they had bragged about besting him, Lucifer had inadvertently released all of the shadows of the Order Primal into Earth's stratosphere. Of course, it was Jehovah who had the last laugh when 25,000 demons of the First Legion burned to dust when they tried to leave the atmosphere and hit that supernatural shadow barrier. And in the blink of an eye, Michael had been joined by the confused spirits of thousands of new recruits in the Hall of Souls.

He wondered if Lucifer would have that same bewildered, shattered look when he realized Jehovah had beaten him again. He imagined Sariel's smirk vanishing when the assassin grasped that this armageddon the demons had launched would be the harbinger of Chaos's doom. He chuckled at the thought of his brother sobering, but then he remembered that Sariel was a lost cause.

If his younger brother wasn't plotting to kill someone for the Council, Sariel was almost assuredly drinking and taking liberties with the wives and daughters of important, dangerous demons in Alurabum. That had been his life for almost a million Chaos years before getting himself trapped on Earth. As royalty in Chaos, his antics had been tolerated. Since then, Michael had watched him cavort with the wives and daughters of unimportant, impotent humans instead. In truth, Sariel was as eternally corrupt and devoid of responsibility or righteousness as Jehovah was unerringly meticulous and tenacious.

Many biblical scholars have pointed out that the image and temperament of the devil had likely been borrowed from the Greek Bacchus, the god of wine and debauchery, in order to help with conversions from the Greek and Roman faiths. In a way, that is true, but the underlying truth was a bit stranger. Bacchus was directly based on Sariel's time of drinking and debauchery amongst his more depraved outings with the Greeks.

So, the Christians were right that Bacchus/Pan was on the wrong side of Jehovah, but they were wrong that this was the devil, the ultimate target of their god, and not just a very irresponsible, demented demon who thought it was humorous to dress like a goat when he slept with married women. In their attempt to convert Greeks and Romans to the Christian faith via bringing low the God Bacchus, the humans had given Lucifer the ability to hide amongst them completely undetected. They expected pure, deformed evil based on a several thousand-year-old party costume. What they should have been looking for was a pampered, royal brat with a short hair cut who left destruction and death in his wake whenever he felt cornered or angry.

And just as no demon was as pampered and coddled as either of his brothers, no one was more brilliant and calculating than Jehovah. Soon, the other sons of Ostat would have another refresher course in humiliating inadequacy—lessons Michael knew only too well. But even as much as he resented the favor and prestige that Lucifer had always enjoyed as the Crown Prince, this was one time Michael didn't want Jehovah to fully succeed. Chaos was still his home, even if he never planned to return.

Batarel caught him gawking, so Michael nursed his drink and pretended to look elsewhere. His scarred uncle motioned the others to a nearby table, and Lucifer shook off a couple of seating suggestions before pointing to a table at the far corner of the bar.

Between Lucifer's group and Michael were a dozen patrons, all of whom were oblivious to the fact that four demons and an archangel were within feet of them. Along with these humans, trillions of creatures throughout the universe would be collateral damage when the apocalypse hit. As an immortal, he steeled himself to the losses as they all did. In a universe where a common supernova tended to destroy multiple solar systems, trillions of deaths were the norm.

"Doesn't matter," Michael said to himself. "They'll be back again soon enough anyway."

"What's that?" Adrian asked.

"Was just talking about something on the TV."

"Want me to turn it up?"

"No, that's all right," Michael said as he downed the last of his beer. "Just grab me another Yazoo when you get a chance."

"On it," the bartender said as he popped the top from a longneck and slid it down the counter. "So, where you from?"

Michael twisted round on the stool to face his brothers. "Far, far away from here, friend. Hey, actually, there is something else you can do for me. I'd like to buy a round of drinks for those fellows over there."

"Not a problem. What'll it be?"

"Whatever they want. The tall one will want whiskey, though."

"Friends of yours?"

"I doubt they'd feel that way."

"Loosen 'em up with liquor first, eh?"

"Something like that."

The bartender sent over a waitress, who interrupted Lucifer in mid-sentence. He was irritated for a moment but nodded toward Michael as the other demons made their orders. They resumed their private discussions, and Michael watched them closely.

Lucifer did most of the talking, as he'd done for millions of years, and Sariel looked over some of the numbers he had grabbed from his casual encounters with women at the bar. Neither of them had changed a bit. Batarel feigned interest in his nephew's words but appeared to be mainly watching the television screen that hung from the ceiling in front of them. Azazel stared back at Michael.

"I'm going to take my tab over to that table," Michael told the bartender.

"OK." Adrian punched a few buttons on a touch-screen display. Michael dropped a few dollars in the tip jar, thanked him, and headed toward the back corner of the bar with his tasty longneck.

The demons looked up as Michael approached and Lucifer made room for him by sliding to his left and pushing Sariel with an elbow. Sariel rolled more than scooted across the booth, but Batarel stopped his momentum cold. Michael tried not to look at his uncle, who still managed to intimidate him even though Michael knew he had nothing to really fear while he was still on Earth. Azazel went back to staring at his drink.

"Hello," Lucifer said, breaking Michael from his contemplation of Batarel. "Thanks for the drinks. What should we drink to?"

Michael raised his beer. "To the Apocalypse!"

"To the Apocalypse!" they all replied.

Michael took a mental picture of the demons smirking and winking at each other. He looked up at the monitor, which was displaying news about Earth's recent near miss.

"Mind if I turn this up?"

"Not at all," Batarel said.

Michael pressed the volume button on the front of the monitor until the woman's voice drowned out the laughter and clinking glasses.

... _the third comet to strike a planet in our neighborhood within the past seven months. The scientific community is abuzz with theories about what this unprecedented series of events might mean. Could Earth be next? Is this all just some cosmic coincidence? And what really triggers these comets in the first place? We've brought in noted scholar..._

"Speak of the devil," Michael said, looking directly at Lucifer. "The Apocalypse is almost here."

"Do I know you?"

"My name is Michael."

Azazel refocused his attention on the forty-year-old man in front of him. Sariel stopped looking at phone numbers, and Batarel flexed his hands next to his drink like a man getting ready to arm wrestle.

Sariel stretched his arms around and behind his brother and uncle. He was the only person at the table who seemed to not have a care in the world. "Common enough name around here."

"Well, this is the Bible Belt," Michael said.

"No doubt about that," Lucifer mumbled as he traced a fingertip across the veneer of the table. "So, Michael, what do you think of the events on the television?"

"I think the End of Days is approaching," he said, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. "You guys want one?"

Sariel took one and let Michael light it for him. Azazel feigned interest in someone at the main bar, but his eyes never strayed far from Michael.

"That stuff will kill you," Lucifer said, leaning back against the booth's leather cushion.

"If it really is the End of Days, a smoke is the least of my worries."

"Amen." Sariel smiled as he blew smoke at Lucifer.

Lucifer waved a hand in front of his face to disperse some of the smoke and elbowed Sariel hard in the ribs. "One person's End of Days is another's new beginning."

"I couldn't agree with you more," Michael replied, "but some new beginnings..." he blew a smoke ring that floated past Lucifer and into a nearby ceiling fan, "are better than others."

Lucifer noisily traced a fingernail across the table and Sariel's posture changed once more. He slowly brought his arms back down to his sides. Michael wondered if he was retrieving his daggers. He also noticed that his uncle still hadn't touched his drink. Batarel probably thought it was poisoned, or maybe he was just too busy studying Michael's every word and mannerism.

"What about you?" Batarel asked. "Where will you be when the Apocalypse happens?"

"Heaven," Michael said. "Same as all of us, right? Nobody but saints at this table..."

"What about those who are bona fide sinners?" Lucifer asked.

Michael looked at the TV as a professor from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology tried to make sense of all the activity coming out of the Oort cloud at the edge of the Solar System.

"They'll soon find their whole universe shattered around them," Michael finally answered.

Sariel spat out his drink, but Lucifer didn't seem to even notice the wetness on the back of his hand. Azazel choked on a pretzel, and Batarel remained impassive. A chill went down Michael's spine. Batarel was still scary.

"Why did you buy us drinks?" Batarel asked.

"It was the least I could do."

"Who are you?"

"I am Michael. I already told you that."

"Why are you here?"

"That's an interesting question—one that I was never really allowed to ask when I was younger, thanks to a certain government body. The perils of public education and all that..."

"And now that you have had the chance to ask it of yourself?" Batarel asked. He didn't seem fazed by Michael's attempts to get under his skin.

"Most rules against progress are meant to be broken, and farcical organizations that make such rules to limit their own people have no reason being there in the first place."

Batarel steepled his fingers below his nose and stared coldly into Michael's eyes. "Is that a threat?"

"An observation," he replied. "The threat comes from someone else."

"Someone we know?"

"Unless you are suffering from Alzheimer's..."

"Jehovah?" Batarel asked.

Michael didn't respond.

"What does he want?" his scarred uncle asked.

"The destruction of the Courts of Chaos and the Council of Wizards."

Red tendrils shot out of Lucifer's back and crawled up the wall behind him, cracking the paneling as they snaked their way around an Elvis statue and dislodged a framed and signed Dolly Parton picture. After the glass face shattered on the floor, Sariel and Azazel's eyes darted around the bar looking for any humans that realized what was going on, but Lucifer's luminescent demon wings blended in with the flashing neon lights of the bar's many beer advertisements.

Michael smirked as he watched his brother's red wings spread across the wall. In response, one of Michael's white tendrils climbed above his head to form a halo. White was Jehovah's color. Michael still knew how to get under his twin brother's skin.

Lucifer flipped the table over on its side and pushed Michael across the floor, parting human bystanders like Moses did the red sea. Michael tried to roll the table away from his neck, but he didn't attempt to fight back against his brother because that would have been futile. Lucifer hadn't lost a duel in a million years. When the sturdy, fixed bar stood between Michael and any further progress across the polished wood floor, Lucifer bent him over it with the table between them and looked down at his brother from inches above his face.

"Hello, Michael."

"Hello, ingrate."

Lucifer retrieved a six-foot-long black blade from the ether and pressed its broadside against Michael's face.

"Maybe I should finish what Jehovah started," Lucifer said.

The barrel of a shotgun jammed into Lucifer's temple. "Get off 'im or I'll blow your damned head off," Adrian said from behind the bar.

Lucifer's wings grew dark red and danced like agitated cobras from the back of his leather jacket.

"Maybe you should mind your own business, human!"

One of Lucifer's wings knocked the gun aside as it discharged a shell, launching an innocent bystander into Batarel before the man crumpled to the floor. Lucifer plunged his blade into the bartender's chest and pushed his brother and the table farther down the bar with his free hand. Chairs clanked and scooted, and bodies thudded against the hard floor as men and women struggled to get out of the way of the table and Michael's whip-like wings.

"You're going to pay for what you've done!" Lucifer snarled.

"Killing me gains you nothing," Michael said. "Letting me live at least gives Chaos a fighting chance. I have something to tell you—something very important. Our parents' lives hang in the balance. Listen to me or watch Chaos perish. It's entirely up to you. You know full well that I don't care anymore."

Lucifer threw aside the table and picked his brother up by the throat.

"Put him down, Lucifer," Batarel said. He placed a hand on his nephew's back.

Lucifer growled and looked at his uncle from the corner of his eye. "He's lying. Something is up."

Sariel put his thumbs under his belt buckle and walked casually toward his brothers. He winked at a woman who was cowering under a table. "It's gonna be all right there, miss. Me and my brothers are just havin' a bit of a tiff. You just sit tight there, li'l' lady. I'll be right back."

His uncle frowned at him and Sariel kicked at the ground. Sariel had been Batarel's apprentice for over a million years now, and while other wizards on the Council might beat their students for something like this, Michael had never seen Batarel dole out anything more than disappointed looks.

That was Batarel, though. Michael had never seen him angry, but he had seen his uncle kill thousands of immortals without even raising a finger.

"Fine, fine." Sariel said, turning away from Batarel to look intensely at Michael.

Michael immediately felt a sharp, driving pain in his brain, like someone drilling in his skull. Despite the torment, he refused to give his brother any satisfaction. He kept his eyes open and never uttered a grunt or moan.

"He ain't lying, pilgrim," Sariel said as he shut one eye and cocked his hand like a pistol at Michael. He dropped the thumb hammer down and blew at the barrel. Azazel shook his head and chuckled as he intentionally bumped Sariel while the latter walked away from Michael like a gunslinger from an old Western. Sariel shot a few invisible rounds at Azazel in response.

"The Council of Wizards really wants me to let such a traitor live?" Lucifer asked.

"If he can give us some answers," Batarel said. "We know just about as much as you do about the primal pattern Jehovah has created here—which is nothing."

Lucifer dropped Michael to the ground, red wings coiling and snapping through the air, and Michael smirked as one of them brushed against his face. The night had only just begun, and Lucifer was already riled up.

"Thanks," Michael mumbled as he got to his feet.

"Go screw yourself," Lucifer said.

"That's enough." Batarel held up a finger between the twins. "Take him to the warehouse."

Sariel and Azazel grabbed Michael by the arms and began to force him toward the exit, but he fought against them with each step. Before he knew it, he was launched fifty feet across the room and into the wall beside the front door. Remarkably, it hurt less than Sariel's mind-probe earlier, but he turned around to see who had hit him. Batarel stood with his feet firmly set on the floor and his hands extended. _Damned pattern magic!_

"I'm not in the mood for this," Batarel said. He conjured a small, swirling sphere of multi-colored energy to stress the point.

"Fine, OK. Whatever. I'll come quietly," Michael said. He raised his arms to shoulder level and Sariel and Azazel grabbed hold of him once more.

"Thank you," Batarel said as he looked around at the humans playing dead under the tables. Puddles of urine were now making their way toward Michael's feet from their hiding places.

"Should I take care of them?" Lucifer asked.

"I wouldn't worry, Luke," Batarel said. "Let's just bring him back to the warehouse and gather the others. As Crown Prince and highest ranking military officer here, you have the ultimate say with prisoners of war. I will of course support you in whatever you decide when we get back to Alurabum."

Lucifer's wings shifted in color from deep scarlet to a lighter shade of red and gyrated around him less viciously as he breathed in deeply. He turned his back to Michael and edged closer to Batarel. Michael strained his ears to listen in on their whispered conversation.

"You've been by my side for millions of years, Uncle," Lucifer said, "and I will always trust you with my life. Your advice is sound, and I can do no better than to follow it."

A frightened man got up and started running toward the door. One of Lucifer's wings whipped out in front of the man and smashed him into the mirror behind the bar where he slumped on top of the murdered bartender. The loud crash caused Michael to miss some of Lucifer and Batarel's conversation.

"Worrying is something I simply must do," Lucifer said as he watched blood drip down the mirror. "Even if these human weapons can't end our lives, a mob could hamper our escape."

Batarel nodded and began rolling up his sleeves, but Lucifer waved him off.

"You guys go on," Lucifer said as his eight bright red wings worked themselves into a frenzy like the tails of a litter of kittens exposed to catnip. "You just make sure Sariel and Azazel make it back to the warehouse with the prisoner. I'll clean up here."

"We'll have to leave the car tonight," Azazel's raspy voice called to Sariel as he pulled Michael through the doorway. "He's too dangerous to trust in such a confined space. Better to just carry him back to the warehouse."

Sariel yawned. "Let the humans think we're UFOs, you know, swamp gas or something. I'm sick of hiding. It's not my style."

"You don't say?" Azazel asked jeeringly, nodding at Sariel's belt buckle. "Ready?"

"Yup."

Sariel's purple wings and Azazel's red wings whipped out of their bodies and slammed into the concrete below, crumpling and destroying large sections of pavement. With their hands, they still grasped Michael, but with their wings, they pushed and pulled their way across West Nashville, toward their warehouse.

Michael looked back over his shoulder to see Batarel and his purple wings bringing up the rear. Just behind Batarel, Lucifer shut the door to The End of the Line bar. Even with a few hundred feet of separation and a solid door between them, Michael heard the screams echo into the night.

His only comfort came in knowing that these humans would soon enter the same Hall of Souls that he had been sent to when Jehovah had killed him hundreds of thousands of years ago. They would be reborn, and life would go on long after his brothers and uncle had left Earth.
Chapter 2

The Interrogation

Azazel kept hitting him, and Michael grinned right back at the furious demon pulverizing his face. He had no reason to retract what he'd said, and a few blows to the head weren't going to kill him.

"Jalak was my brother!"

"Don't worry. Stick around on Earth for a bit longer, and you'll see him soon enough."

Azazel punched Michael so hard that he and his heavy oak chair flew five feet into a pair of steel oil drums. The containers fell over, but they were sealed so Michael didn't find himself in sludge. That was small comfort though. His jaw was starting to ache, and his restraints were preventing him from sitting up again.

"Let him be," Sariel said as he helped Michael back to a perpendicular position.

"Thanks."

Sariel nodded and walked back to Azazel, who had turned his back on the two of them. Sariel put his arm around the grieving bodyguard, and guided him away from Michael.

"What's going on?" Lucifer asked as he walked into the vast warehouse carrying a blood-stained towel and attempting to force the dried, crusted crimson from his forearm and neck.

Sariel nodded toward the chair. "Michael is just abusing the hired help."

Michael stared right back at his twin until Lucifer broke from the gaze.

"Azazel, will you go get me another towel?" Lucifer asked. "A damp one would be much appreciated."

Azazel closed his eyes, breathed, and quickly exited the warehouse. Lucifer scrubbed the cleaner parts of the towel against the evidence of his recent massacre at the bar.

He grabbed a crate of pig iron that must have weighed a ton, pitched it onto his shoulder effortlessly, and dropped it down in front of his brother. "You know, for being a benevolent, merciful deity, your Jehovah sure did a lot of damage to demons that had nothing to do with his grievances."

"He released them from their servitude."

Lucifer laughed. "Is that what he's telling you, nowadays? Now, all of my men are slaves to Jehovah and his little pattern here, right?"

"Jalak sits in the Hall of Souls waiting for his rebirth, along with 25,000 of your other men."

Lucifer leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "Is this a road you really want to go down with me?"

"Well, who are you more worried about? The men you've lost or everyone you are about to lose?"

"What is he talking about?" Lucifer asked as he turned toward Batarel, who was propped against crates of various commodities.

Sariel rummaged around in some crates and found an orange. He tossed it in the air, summoned one of his black and silver daggers, and sliced the fruit into eight, evenly segmented pieces in midair before joining his uncle in leaning against one of the crate columns in the vast labyrinth of boxes and barrels.

"He hasn't said much since we left the bar," Sariel said.

"Just enough to incite Azazel to wail on him for a bit?"

"Pretty much."

"I see," Lucifer said. He jumped from his crate and summoned his sword back from the ether, whirling it around and sliding it effortlessly through a few barrels of barley and soybeans. "You know, I used to think that this zinanbar substance that the goblin forgewrights put into swords was one of the only things that could kill us."

"That's the problem with ignorance," Michael said as he looked directly at Batarel. "You kill all the smart people and stifle all the research, and you lose your edge. Stifle progress for long enough and people start dying because you fell behind."

"The Council didn't kill those thousands of demons," Batarel said. "You and Jehovah did."

"You're not listening. They're not dead. They're in the Hall of Souls."

"And just what is that?"

"It's the center of the Order Primal. Whereas Chaos seeks only to destroy its sons and daughters through meaningless wars of aggression against other patterns, Order reincorporates its souls. While Chaos is killing its best and brightest, our universe brings them back to life again."

"Only if they are killed within the boundaries of Order," Batarel said.

"Just like your men."

"And women and children," Lucifer said with a clenched jaw that caused the veins in his face to bulge. "Lots of collateral damage when you destroy an entire Chaos legion."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Yours," Lucifer said. "I wouldn't be here if the oracles hadn't showed me your death. They plucked it right out of the underflow. Father and mother were beside themselves. I had to come here to avenge you."

"I didn't ask you to come."

"No, instead you tricked me into coming. If you didn't want me to avenge you, you could have just said so. Maybe leave me a note next time. I'll let you die without shedding a tear.

"Don't sit here and try to play me, Michael. I've been going over that scene for nearly 500,000 years now. 300,000 years wing-walking and travelling inside of stable vortexes from Chaos with my legion, a few minutes watching them all burn up in this augmented atmosphere, and another 200,000 sitting here on my keister thinking you were dead. My brother. My twin.

"You didn't ask me to come? You know better. Stop trying to mess with my head."

Michael didn't respond. His brother was right.

"Next thing I know," Lucifer continued, "you're in a bar in Nashville taunting me with white tendrils, and tormenting my personal bodyguard, who has gone above and beyond his paycheck helping our family. Millions of years of service, Michael. You're a spoiled brat!"

"Azazel serves our family because he has to," Michael said. "His family got into a debt too deep for even immortals to get out of. The system in Chaos oppresses everyone but us—everyone but the family in power."

"That's the way the universe works."

"Your universe," Michael pointed his head at his twin. "And their universe," he motioned at Sariel and Batarel.

"You're brainwashed, brother."

"No," Michael said. "Not anymore." He wanted to gesture with his hands. "Can you get me out of these restraints please?"

"They're steel, moron," Lucifer said. "Sariel was just messing with you. Earth doesn't have any zinanbar to make proper restraints with."

Sariel flashed a proud grin from behind an orange peel he had stuck between his teeth and gums. Michael laughed despite the seriousness of the conversation as he broke from his restraints with his hands first and then his feet.

"Mind if I get up?"

"Free country, ain't it?" Sariel said in a hillbilly accent.

Michael shook his head and tilted his head back as he circled his chair. "You know, Lucifer, I used to want to be just like you."

Lucifer nodded but stayed quiet.

"I practiced fighting like you did. I beat up neighborhood kids. I tried to hang out with you, Sariel, and that Goblin Prince Elandril, but you were all too cool for me. My own twin, the Crown Prince, had better things to do with his time."

Michael cast his eyes toward the long zinanbar blade that Lucifer was still practicing with. "You got better and better with military planning and combat, and I got more lost. I started hanging out with the Intellectuals, as you used to call them—our cousin Jehovah and his book buddies. And I got happier, I forgot about how father discarded me because I was born twelve minutes after you, and I started learning where we came from and what we have done. You have no idea what the Council has been keeping from us."

"And I don't want to find out," Lucifer said. "I'm not supposed to know that stuff."

"What you and the Intellectuals did," Batarel said, "almost got you all executed. I fought everyone off to keep you and Jehovah alive. The Council deliberated for three whole years, and I won your freedom not once, not twice, but five different times."

"All we were doing was reading," Michael said.

"Well, look where it got you!" Lucifer said.

"Yeah, look where it got me. Drafted into the army as a low ranking officer and put on the front lines in the Great War against the goblins. You know I killed one of Elandril's brothers, right? Stabbed him right through the heart, but I had no choice. I was invading his universe and leading a charge to kill his father. And for what, exactly?"

"None of us wanted the Great War," Lucifer said. "Least of all our family."

"Elandril was my best friend," Sariel added. "I grew up with him. It broke my heart to have to join that fight, but they started it."

Michael looked at Batarel. "You're really going to let that fly? You still haven't told them? After everything you've done?"

Batarel rolled his eyes, but Sariel turned around on his heels to look up at his mentor. "What's going on?"

"It was all fabricated," Michael said. "It was all made up by a group of racist jerks who couldn't stand to watch a prince of the goblins roaming around Alurabum. Your best friend was too good looking, he screwed too many of their demon daughters, and they killed his father and tried to eradicate their pattern because of it. That's who you are fighting for."

Lucifer turned to Batarel. "What's he talking about?"

"For all I know," Batarel said. "He could be telling the truth. Working for the Council, I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of. My part in the assassination that ended the Great War is still something that haunts me to this day."

"It is the truth," Michael said. "There are viewing orbs in the Council Library that catalogue the whole thing. Watch them when you get back, if there is anything to come home to."

"Earth and this Order universe, as you call it, are the ones that are going to be destroyed in a handful of years," Lucifer said. "Batarel and the Council put things in motion which cannot be stopped at this point. You know what I'm talking about, Michael."

"That I do. And so does Jehovah. The Council is nothing if not predictable. Sending black holes at the pattern to try to contain it and destroy the projection it creates is standard military procedure. Right out of the handbook.

"Lucifer, you watched an entire legion of demons disintegrate into this atmosphere moments after you pierced Jehovah's body with that blade in Eden. Do you really think all of this wasn't planned out? Do you actually believe Jehovah would risk his life on a fool's errand at the edge of the cosmos? Do you really think I was resurrected at random?"

Michael scoffed and summoned his own zinanbar blade from the air and pointed it at a keg of gunpowder. "Those three black holes will rip through this galaxy and collide with the Order Primal, which is just teeming with pure energy from the 25,000 souls that power it. Most of that pure pattern energy will be sucked into those black holes, but as the massive objects collide and coalesce, an accretion disk is going to form and a powerful, destructive jet of energy will be shot out into space. Like this powder keg here, Order is primed to explode."

He ran the powder keg through with his sword from three different angles that mimicked the directions that the black holes were coming from. "All it takes is a spark," Michael added.

"Do you have any idea what kind of luck it would take to focus that kind of beam directly at the Courts of Chaos?" Batarel asked. "We're talking about a trillion light years away, and you're aiming at something that can't even be seen from here yet."

"Luck has nothing to do with it. I would advise you to take a look at Jehovah's last published research at the Chaos University Library. You're specifically looking for a journal paper on chaining supercondensers together to accelerate a beam of energy. Won best paper, if I remember correctly. I would hurry if I were you. Chaos doesn't have much time."

"Batarel, come on, what is he talking about?" Lucifer asked.

Batarel froze like a deer in headlights. His lip quivered, and he shook his head. "Sariel, make sure he gets out of here. Lucifer, I have to go."

"You have to what?"

But he was gone. He vanished into thin air.

"What just happened?" Lucifer grabbed Sariel by his leather jacket. "He didn't just apparate, did he? Tell me he didn't just instantly travel back to the Council right in front of my face!"

"Well, it's not instantaneous..." Sariel said, shrugging and smiling uncomfortably.

"Un... believable."

"He couldn't teach you how to apparate," Sariel said. "You would have had to learn pattern magic, and it's expressly forbidden to teach the Crown Prince how that works. Separation of church and state. You know the rules."

Michael heard one of the doors to the warehouse open, and light from the street lamps outside flooded into a dark corner before returning it to blackness. Again and again, the door opened and closed until three sets of footsteps began to patter throughout the maze of crates and boxes. Lucifer and Sariel exchanged curious looks.

"Michael," Sariel said, "did you bring friends? How exciting!"

"We're getting the band back together," Michael said, grinning.

Another set of footsteps joined them from a side entrance as Azazel came in the door carrying a dampened towel. "What the hell is going on?"

"Michael's picking fights that he can't win," Lucifer said.

Azazel summoned his zinanbar sword from the ether and threw the towel to Lucifer, but the Crown Prince deflected the towel to a nearby crate. Azazel stayed put in the doorway, but readied his sword. Lucifer twirled his blade menacingly and eyed his twin brother as three other humans entered the light in the small clearing.

"Do you want me to sit this one out?" Sariel asked. "I actually _do_ know pattern magic, and I don't fight fair."

Michael shrugged. "I'd like to reintroduce you to Uriel, Raphael, and our cousin Gabriel."

"Uriel?" Sariel asked. "From the Council? Rank 4, right?"

"One and the same," the young man with the blond hair replied. "And I don't mind if you use pattern magic."

Sariel summoned a second ornate, black and silver zinanbar dagger and popped another slice of orange into his mouth. "Your funeral, friend."

"I've already died once. Death doesn't bother me."

A short blade whirled through the air so fast that Uriel didn't have time to react. His wide eyes ventured from the blade hilt in his chest to Michael's face as he sank to his knees.

"Then, you should feel right at home," Sariel said as he balanced another blade on the palm of his hand. "Are you guys sure you want me using pattern magic? We could maybe have Lucifer here tie one of his arms behind his back while we're at it..."

Michael looked at Azazel out of the corner of his eye before giving Lucifer his undivided attention. "That won't be necessary..."

Lucifer and Sariel set their guard as Michael and the other angels advanced, but a dozen feet before engaging, Michael broke from the group and ran toward Azazel, who backed farther into the doorway he had just come from. The fear in Azazel's eyes was justified. Michael wasn't even a fourth of the swordsman that Lucifer was, but Michael was more than a match for his bodyguard.

Azazel parried a few blows, but Michael was able to cut holes in his sides in the process. The demon grew weaker as he bled out in a fury of slashes, and he soon favored his left side. As Michael heard another of the angels in the warehouse fall, he panicked. Azazel had to die before Lucifer or Sariel were able to reinforce him.

"Michael!" Lucifer called, "you coward!"

He only had a few moments to finish the guard off. Azazel deftly knocked aside a feint, but he opened his midsection up, and Michael took full advantage. Azazel's eyelids opened wide as Michael ran him through the stomach.

"You'll see your brother Jalak again real soon..."

Footsteps stomped toward Michael, and he stood up and kept his back turned toward the doorway.

"Don't think I won't stab you in the back like you've done me," Lucifer said.

"For once, brother, I'm ahead in a game, and you're the one struggling to keep up..."

A sharp pain between his shoulder blades knocked the wind out of him, and he fell to his knees. Michael watched the blade go back through his body as Lucifer retrieved it. He looked up at Azazel, who was spitting blood onto his own black shirt. When he noticed Michael looking at him, he spat some of it in his face.

"Don't let me die here, Lucifer," the dying demon said.

"Sariel," Lucifer said, "stop messing around in there! Azazel's been hurt!"

A thud sounded from the next room.

"Sorry," Sariel called as he walked in, "our cousin Gabriel wasn't too bad with a blade... Oh... no..."

"It's bad," Azazel said, "but you've got to get me out of here."

"Sariel, what can we do?" Lucifer asked and became infuriated when Sariel shrugged his shoulders. "Don't give me that crap! I just watched Batarel apparate out of here. Can you carry him back to Chaos?"

"It doesn't work that way," Sariel said. "I can't apparate with him. Apparation requires a nearly infinite amount of energy to bring just one person through. Taking two of us back would be more than the primal pattern could sustain along the path."

"Give me some options, here!"

"I could trigger a vortex transport, but we'd have to be outside the atmosphere first. Otherwise, the stratosphere would rip us apart just like it did our legion."

"How long would this vortex transport take?"

"Maybe three months."

"Three months? He doesn't have that long, Sariel. You've got to do better!"

"Lucifer, Chaos is a trillion light years from here. It takes a small particle a trillion years at the speed of light to get back to Chaos. Wing-walking to stable vortexes and then wing-walking some more? 300,000 years. The best I can do with someone else is three months, and it's difficult. What do you want me to say?"

"You woo... would try... to de..." Michael stuttered and pushed his hand to his stomach to press out the words. "You would deny him a resurrection? You would... let...t... t... him d...d... die in the cold of space?"

"I would honor his wishes," Lucifer said. "He has the right to choose."

Michael coughed on his laughter.

"The game has changed... b... b... rother. Keep sticking to the o... o... ld rules and our family won't survive... Jehovah's split isn't the only one... Old e... e... nemies... Seek out friends..."

Michael felt himself slipping. He rolled onto his side and drifted in and out of consciousness. He saw Lucifer's face above him, and then it blurred. It became Jehovah's face. Lots of colors... white most of all... blended into walls...

And then naked on a floor that wasn't a floor, next to walls that had no substance, and pillars that held up a translucent roof... So many stars... And three black holes coming right at him...
Chapter 3

The Heist

Sariel paid little attention to his brother pacing around the corridor. Lucifer could get as angry as he wanted, but Sariel had to know the truth. Unlike the rest of his body, Sariel's wings could be at the Council Archives in seconds.

"Are you listening to me?" Lucifer asked.

"No. I'm busy. Shut up for a second."

Lucifer's dark mutterings faded into the background as Sariel rummaged through bookshelves in a library. This particular archive was inside of the Chaos Primal, which gave him ready access from almost anywhere in any dimension.

"Assassination... Goblin Realm..." Sariel mumbled as he passed over parchments and orbs.

"Azazel is dying," Lucifer reminded him. "Stop whatever you are doing and think."

Sariel's disappointment came through him in the form of a deep sigh. He would have to look for the viewing orb later.

"What about a space shuttle?" Lucifer asked. "We could pump all the air out of it. Our lungs would certainly stand the pressure."

Any heist plan immediately got Sariel's attention, but there was a major problem. They had tried this before in the 1960s and lost one of their closest guards, Beelzebub, in the process. Despite the human successes with busting through the atmosphere, the demons never tried to escape in a manmade spacecraft again. They had decided to wait out the apocalypse.

Lucifer appeared to see the concern on Sariel's face. "They've gotten better. There hasn't been a major catastrophe in years."

Sariel shook his head. "That's not the point. We have no idea if Beelzebub being in the cockpit caused that catastrophe, or if it was a mechanical failure. The Ruskies destroyed all evidence of the launch before the debris even touched down on Earth. If we just wait a couple of years, the black holes will suck out the atmosphere, and we should be able to lift off from the back of the planet in time to avoid the event horizon."

"It has always been a shaky plan, brother, and Azazel doesn't have two years."

"Don't let me die here," Azazel groaned, looking up from his bloody bed of gore on the floor. "Don't let him take my soul."

"I'll be right back," Lucifer said, as he pushed himself through the doorway and into the warehouse. He returned to the corridor with the damp towel that Azazel had tossed him and wrapped it around Azazel's torso to cover the wounds. He pushed both hands down on the wounded demon's chest.

"Do you have a better option?" Lucifer asked Sariel.

"No."

"Then let's hijack a shuttle launch."

Sariel's impish grin told Lucifer there would be no protest. Lucifer shook his head and looked at Azazel, who choked on some blood as he laughed.

"There's one set for tomorrow at Cape Canaveral in Florida," Lucifer said. "Might be our last chance to target a fully fueled one for several months."

"I'll get some more towels for Azazel," Sariel said. "Should we bother packing?"

He knew the answer before he had even asked the question. He looked through the warehouse doorway at the accumulated resources he and his brother had acquired over thousands of years playing the markets. Millions of dollars of wealth in just this room alone. Oh well. It was just a game to bide their time here anyway. Beating humans at anything wasn't much of a challenge. Bigger games were afoot in Alurabum, the capital of Chaos, and this was their chance to finally get back home.

***

Lucifer punched his scarlet wings into the banks of the Tennessee River and checked his grip on Azazel. Behind him, Sariel's purple wings hammered into the limestone bottom as they both moved quickly east and then south to the Savannah and St. John. In Winter, the rivers were deserted—the perfect travel routes for unidentified flying objects.

Azazel didn't look well at all.

"Hang in there, buddy," Lucifer said over the raging winds that were whipping around them, preventing any real communication with Sariel just dozens of feet away.

"I'm hanging as limp as I can," Azazel joked in his ear.

"You sure you don't want to die here?"

"I don't want to die at all."

"Maybe you could choose to come back to Chaos with your brother," Lucifer said as his wings propelled him over misty, aromatic Florida swampland.

"If Jalak had such a choice, wouldn't we have seen him already?"

"I reckon so," Lucifer nodded.

"I trust Jehovah about as much as I trust a goblin."

They didn't talk more after that because Azazel passed out. Lucifer slowed down to allow Sariel to catch up and waved to indicate for them to descend to ground level. He wanted to talk.

"What's up?" Sariel asked.

"How are we going to do this?"

"I'll handle the control tower, you get Azazel into the shuttle. I'll join you after I've checked over the systems and started the launch sequence."

"You know how to initiate all the sequences?"

"NASA women can get pretty lonely. I've had several girlfriends show me the facility. I've even had sex on all of the control panels."

"You're incorrigible," Lucifer said.

"That hurts, brother. Don't you know that I'm extremely embarrassed of my sexual exploits? Did I tell you the one about the woman with the three nipples?"

"God, please not that again."

"That was one of the NASA chicks. Every control panel."

"Please, just stop."

"How is Azazel holding up?"

"He passed out again. Do you think we can get him back to Chaos in time for a healer to see him?"

"No idea. At school, I focused more on how to kill other immortals rather than how to go about saving them. Healing is completely out of my area."

Lucifer hoisted the dozing demon back over his shoulder. "Cape Canaveral is just a few miles away."

"Yeah," Sariel said.

"You ready?"

"I was born for shuttle heists, man."

Lucifer shook his head and leapt into the air. His wings tore into the earth and lifted him about twenty feet. Ahead of him, he could see the top of the tower that was attached to their ticket back home.

***

Sariel pointed out the fixed sentry points, but in the daylight, guards patrolled nearly every inch of the launch site anyway. He thought it best to wait for nightfall so they could bypass the security perimeter by flying over the walls and onto the buildings without being seen. The three demons waited for the sun to dip below the horizon before launching themselves onto the heavily guarded buildings.

Once inside, Sariel directed Lucifer to the showers and locker room inside Cape Canaveral in search of uniforms to help them blend in under the lights of the hallways. The scientists and staff were busy with the launch preparation for the next day and for the most part ignored the three demons, despite Azazel's condition.

"He ate something awful in the cafeteria," Sariel said, pointing at the limp demon draped over Lucifer's shoulder and bleeding down his back. "Don't try the shellfish. It's like something out of Alien."

"Jesus!" a bespectacled, blonde woman covered her mouth and hurried down the hallway.

"She could have been next," Sariel smiled to his brother.

"You should have asked if she had an unusual number of nipples."

"Yeah, hindsight."

"Yeah," Lucifer laughed.

A guard approached and pointed toward Azazel. "What's wrong with him?"

"Thank God, you're here," Lucifer said, motioning the guard toward a closet door. "He went in there."

The guard eyed the trail of blood down the other hallway suspiciously but unholstered his sidearm and led the demons to the closet. He opened the door, turned the light on, and barged into the room. "There's no one in here."

Lucifer waved to his brother after checking the halls. As the door shut, Sariel flipped the light switch and released a focused pattern-magic push that incapacitated the guard, knocking him out cold. The wizard assassin quickly changed into the guard's tight uniform and tucked his shoulder length hair into the human's blue cap.

"You look ridiculous," Lucifer said upon seeing him.

"Well, you look like you just left the set of a horror movie," Sariel replied.

They rounded a corner and found two more guards beside the shower entrance. The guards were the only ones in the hallway.

"What's wrong with him?"

"We caught him sodomizing a flock of geese," Sariel said.

"What?"

He released another push that leveled the two guards as the magical wave traveled through them.

Lucifer shook his head. "What is wrong with you?"

"Can you imagine the interrogation those two guys are going to have tomorrow?"

Sariel smiled, completely proud of himself.

Lucifer pulled the door handle, and Sariel followed him through the doorway. There were voices inside, and it was so humid and hot that it felt more like a sauna than a shower. Sariel pointed toward the lockers, and Lucifer pushed onward. They opened several of the metal doors before finding an orange jumpsuit.

"With all these comets hitting Mars, Jupiter, and Venus, this might be our last mission of the year," a man's voice said as his footsteps approached.

"Yeah, I heard Hank talking about increased solar activity too. Something's going on... Hey... Who are you guys?"

"I'm Captain Donnelly," Lucifer said, "and I'm looking for my uniform."

"Well, you're in my locker," the man said. "See the name? Stanley Smith."

"What's wrong with him?" the other man asked, nodding at Azazel.

Lucifer looked at Sariel who blinked and bit his lip.

"We caught him molesting a school of jelly fish," Lucifer said.

"He wouldn't stop stroking their poisonous tentacles," Sariel added.

"What?"

Again, the humans dropped to the ground, and Sariel laughed. He could do this all night.

Lucifer carefully lowered Azazel to the floor and stripped off his own bloody shirt and jeans. Sariel could hear the handle turning and the water pouring down on his brother from the locker room.

"Do me a favor and clean his wounds," Lucifer called. "And find him a fresh change of clothes—preferably another flight uniform."

Sariel moved Azazel into the showers and turned on the water to clean out the wound. He removed Azazel's clothes and looked over the blackened injury to his stomach. "Maybe I should cauterize the wound."

"Yeah," Lucifer said.

Sariel placed his hand over the gaping hole and pressed heat into it. He tried to focus the fire so that it wouldn't spread throughout Azazel's body cavity. Underneath the trusted bodyguard, Sariel could see the flames licking at the shower tiles, and the stench of burning flesh filtered around the room as Azazel moaned softly.

"Ugh," Lucifer said. "That smells terrible."

"You know... our grandmother took shorter showers."

Lucifer closed the valve and turned around. Sariel smiled as his brother gave him the stink-eye. Sariel continued to wash Azazel before pulling him along the tiles back toward the lockers.

"Seriously?" Lucifer asked. "You're such a jerk."

"If I get the uniform wet, I'll look like an idiot," Sariel said.

"You could just incapacitate the whole building," Lucifer said. "You don't even need a uniform. I need one so no one raises an alarm while I'm hauling Azazel to the shuttle."

"Listen, Luke. I was trained as an assassin. Subterfuge is part of the fun. Do I tell you to go around not killing people on a battlefield?"

"I took a poll of the people in the room, and nobody likes you."

"Eh, he's all right," Azazel mumbled.

Lucifer came back into the room and grabbed Azazel by the shoulders. "Good to have you back."

"I feel like a roasted duck."

"You sort of smell like one too." Lucifer said, smiling at his old friend. "Can you walk?"

"With a little help."

Lucifer grabbed his hand and pulled him up.

"You two love birds finish getting dressed," Sariel told them. "I have a date with the control tower."

"Tell her... that I said hi," Azazel called after him.

Sariel pushed the door outward and turned down the hallway. He slowed down as he came to a large window looking into a room with hundreds of computer terminals and dozens of busy scientists and administrators. The far wall was glass from floor to ceiling, allowing the occupants to look out onto a launch pad, two fully-fueled solid rocket boosters and a space shuttle.

"Clearance?" a guard beside the door to the control room asked.

"Just a hair under six feet."

"What?"

Another whooshing sound and another thud. "I'm going to miss this."

Sariel used the security guard's clearance card to open the door and walked in. He trailed a hand along the desks as he approached the window overlooking the shuttle. The bespectacled blonde female scientist from earlier passed in front of him. He winked at her as she gave him a surprised, confused look.

"Security isn't supposed to be in here."

He smiled as he looked around at all the working staff. Time for them to sleep.

"How many nipples do you have?"

"What?"

***

Azazel was losing consciousness again past the third security checkpoint, and Lucifer shouldered him once more. Stanley Smith's credentials were useless when his partner couldn't support his own weight, so there was no point in the masquerade anymore. Brute force would have to win out.

Lucifer's wings broke through the skin on his back and wrapped themselves around his body. Whenever a guard looked at him for too long, the tendrils lashed out and silenced any chance of alarm. But human bodies were too fragile, and most of the wounds inflicted were fatal. He tossed their bodies behind buildings along the way and continued to pull his longtime friend over the launch pad.

He was careful to use the ground and tower to ascend to the shuttle door and not the pair of solid rocket boosters that probably couldn't take the pressure of his wings. He looked back at the control tower and waited for Sariel to open the door.

"Hey idiot!" someone called from a hundred feet below.

Lucifer looked down to see his brother's wings bursting through his security guard outfit.

"I've already set the timers for the SRB and main engines and removed the SRB lock pins. What are you waiting for?"

"I don't have a key!"

Sariel's wings pushed him up to Lucifer's height, and the look on his brother's expression was less than approving. Sariel pushed the white button beside the door, and the cockpit opened. Lucifer put his hand in front of Sariel's face.

"I don't want to hear it," Lucifer said.

"We have about two and a half minutes before the SRBs ignite. We need to get this door closed, jettison the air just in case it's part of what kills our kind when we try to escape the stratosphere, and get ready for 2.8 million pounds of thrust."

"Child's play."

"Exactly."

Lucifer placed Azazel into the second row of seats before climbing into the pilot's chair.

"You know the controls?" Sariel asked.

"I've been studying this thing for decades," Lucifer replied. "I've always wanted to fly one."

Sariel shrugged as he placed a hand on a lever above the copilot chair. "Any last words before the air is sucked out?"

"Nope."

"Fine, I guess that leaves me to say something historic. For your information, she only had two nipples. I checked."

Sariel pulled the lever just as Lucifer was trying to say "What?"

The chair vibrated slowly at first, but as the shuttle's main engines kicked in, Lucifer's body began oscillating wildly in place. He grabbed the armrests, set his brow, and looked out the windows as the clouds greeted him. The shuttle would hit the stratosphere within a minute, but he forgot to start counting. When the solid rocket boosters separated, they would be at around 150,000 feet and well into the stratosphere.

When he felt the separation jolt, he looked to the left to watch the SRB fall away. They were in the stratosphere. If Batarel was right, then they were almost safe, but there was no reason to break out of the shuttle just yet. Might as well see themselves into the blackness first.

The blue atmosphere became darker and darker as the deep void of space closed in on the shuttle. Lucifer chuckled silently without air as he felt a sense of elation drown all of his fears away. He turned toward Sariel and found his brother smiling too.

At about ten million feet from the Earth, Sariel gave the OK sign to proceed with exiting the spacecraft. Lucifer only needed to be told once. With two of his wings, he grasped Azazel and dragged him into the weightlessness of the cockpit. With his other six wings, he punched the cockpit door into space. Grasping the doorway, he pulled himself into the void and let out a triumphant, but silent scream. Lucifer had escaped his long internment.

He only had seconds to appreciate the monumental occasion, as Azazel floated by and broke him from his self-revelry. He turned to Sariel, nodded, and pointed into the nothingness around him. It was time for Sariel's vortex transport.

Sariel closed his eyes as frost began to form around his face. His purple wings deployed just as a red maelstrom opened in front of them. Lucifer moved beside it, but saw no trace of the funnel inside other than the opening. Other dimensions were out of Lucifer's comfort zone, but Azazel was counting on him. He had no idea where Order's boundaries were, and it wasn't safe for him to let his bodyguard die here.

They entered the vortex and felt an immediate pull toward the other end. Chaos. Home. Lucifer imagined the homecoming he would receive. The parades. The sex with females who had millions of years of experience in knowing just what it meant to pleasure someone. The constantly changing landscapes and shapeshifting creatures. Breathing in the sulfuric air around Alurabum once more.

Most of all, he was looking forward to embracing his father Ostat and mother Olivia. After two hundred thousand years of deprivation, Lucifer longed for the simple things. He just hoped he could get back in time to stop Jehovah from destroying everything he had ever loved.
Chapter 4

The High Council

Batarel arranged his notes on the podium as he waited for the High Council to enter the main chamber. He checked the viewing orbs he had prepared and double-checked his calculations, each of which had been triple-checked by himself and several interns that had been allocated to him since his arrival. The High Council of the Council of Wizards was not going to be pleased, but it wasn't Batarel's job to tell them what they wanted to hear.

He placed a hand on the podium and smiled as the wood responded by changing its texture and marbling. All around him, the stone columns, timbered banisters, and even patterned rugs morphed into different shapes and consistencies. Oh, how he had missed Chaos! He had visited every known projected universe in existence over the past ten million years, and though there were plenty of exotic realms out there, Chaos would always be home. Home was worth fighting and dying for.

As the High Council filed in, Batarel nodded to the grim-faced wizards and witches, none of whom returned the greeting—as was the custom. The leader of the procession and High Minister of the Council was Rabishu, one of his lovers. Behind her was Eranos, the old scion of the Agalal clan.

Unlike the rest of the High Council, Eranos actually did look at Batarel, and it wasn't a friendly look. The Agalal clan had held the throne before his brother Ostat, and their rule was so filled with madness and magical murder that it directly resulted in the creation of the Council of Wizards and the restrictions on learning and using pattern magic.

By his proximity to Rabishu, Eranos had apparently gained the High Minister's ear since Batarel had left for Earth. The scion of the Agalals stood to Rabishu's right as they waited for the rest of the High Council to take their seats, but Batarel's attention was drawn to Rabishu and the slits in her arms. The last of the council members reached their designated spots in the four-tiered, rank-segregated seating arrangements, and each turned to solemnly look at Batarel through their black, red, green, blue, and purple robes.

"You may be seated," Rabishu raised her hand, exposing a couple of inches of zinanbar through the red slits in her skin.

Batarel let out a gasp, and she smiled back at him. He set his jaw and bit his lip. Now was not the time to tell her that he hated her body modifications.

"As many of you know," she continued, "our Chief Strategist Batarel has been studying the failure of the three singularities to contain the Jehovan Order. Today we will hear more on the effects and collateral damage on adjacent systems since the induced Apocalypse two months ago."

She stopped addressing the High Council and faced Batarel. "Are you ready to proceed?"

"I am."

"Very well. Please begin."

Batarel threw a viewing orb into the air. It whirled and buzzed before stabilizing and ejecting a fine mist in front of the evolving banister which separated him from the highest ranks of the Council. The orb projected a graph which mapped out the Order accretion disk and jet, which moved ominously toward Alurabum.

"Wait," Eranos said, "are we looking at a projection of where the jet will be by year's end?"

"I'm afraid this is a real-time feed of the current trajectory," Batarel said. "The Order assault is already about a third of the way to Alurabum."

The assembled wizards banged their hands against the banisters in protest, and the texture of the wood reacted violently. Sometimes, the banisters even changed shapes from cylindrical to squared-edge.

"That is outrageous," Eranos said. "Recheck your feed. Three hundred billion light years in two months? I'm losing faith in our chief strategist."

Batarel tried not to smile at the overt slander. Debates in the main chamber could get heated as members vied as much for position and power as they did for the truth.

"The pattern jet has traveled through multiple supercondensers at the hearts of nearby galaxies, which have significantly hastened its pace toward our universe."

More rapping on the banisters by the agitated council.

An aged wizard named Bachnos the Blind piped up. "Are you trying to insinuate, Chief Strategist, that a failed scholar like Jehovah harnessed supermassive black holes to accelerate a pattern burst in a directed attack on our realm?"

"I think it would be foolish of us to underestimate what this scholar is capable of, wise Bachnos."

Batarel closed his hand over one of the equation sheets and made a throwing motion toward the viewing orb. The viewscreen changed to a list of equations that his interns and graduate students at Chaos University had prepared.

"What are we looking at here?" Bachnos asked as all thumping against the banister ceased and the wizards looked closely at the self-solving equations in front of them. As terms were crossed out, some of the members who shared positions between the High Council and Chaos University gasped.

"I've seen these equations before," Vichondrius, dean of the Math College, said. "In the _Journal of Astrophysics_ , if I am remembering correctly, but it's been a few hundred thousand years or so since I last looked into them."

"The article was published 900,000 years ago, to be exact," Batarel said. "It was the last journal paper submitted by Jehovah before he left our universe. If the university grant hadn't required publication for continued funding, we might have never even seen this one."

"I'm glad some of you have seen this before," Rabishu said, "but what the hell are we looking at? Would someone please explain?"

"Basically, Jehovah was studying how to amplify and accelerate light energy between supercondensers," Batarel said. "I believe he was doing this research in preparation for this very assault. We are under attack, High Minister."

The assault on the banisters recommenced.

"How long do we have?"

"The bolt of pattern energy will reach us within ten months."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Eranos yelled. "I call for an immediate vote of no confidence. This cannot possibly be right."

Batarel threw another orb into the air and closed his hands over the graph and equation sheets. "Jehovah appears to have anticipated not only the exact time we would send the black holes, but also the precise galaxies we would take them from. Watch the equations above, which I have synchronized with our best guesses on the magical assault."

The banisters creaked from the weight of the wizards pressed against them.

"Failed scholar, my ass!" Bachnos said. "How in the hell did we miss this? Alurabum will have to be evacuated. We will have to remount the Council on the Chaos Primal elsewhere, but we can't move the Courts because they are fixed to the Chaos Primal projection point. The Courts are forfeit at this point."

"We can't allow that to happen," Batarel said. "The Courts are a direct link to the Chaos Primal."

"Well, such a collision of primal patterns will certainly be calamitous," Bachnos said as he misunderstood Batarel's point, "but we should be able to evacuate all greater demons from the affected area over the next ten months. We'll just need to run simulations on the worst possible scenario."

"Permission to discuss heretical topic number 00030587?" Batarel asked Rabishu.

"If you must."

"Michael claimed that Jehovah had created a Soul Harvesting Complex, or SHC, in the heart of the Order Primal. I believe this assault is twofold. First, the Order jet is meant to destroy the Courts of Chaos and the Council of Wizards. Second, the jet will act as a siphon of energy and, consequently, immortal births from the Chaos Primal. The Courts will give Jehovah direct access to the means he requires to create a stable, immortal birthing process, on top of a SHC."

"This is all conjecture," Eranos said. "We should start the evacuations immediately."

"An evacuation will not save our pattern from dying," Batarel said.

"What are you suggesting?" Rabishu asked.

"A deflector—one that wouldn't be destroyed when pure energy hits it."

No one appeared to understand the ramifications of his simple proposal. He closed his hand over an architectural diagram that he had commissioned from Chaos University. Above them hovered the ghastly outline of a black construct of pure zinanbar. Hundreds of miles wide. Hundreds of miles tall. Made out of souls.

The number of fists pounding against the banister drowned out any chance of conversation, and anarchy reigned in the main chamber. Rabishu looked directly at Batarel and nodded. She shook off Eranos's words in her ear, extended a blade from her right arm, and slammed it into the podium in front of her.

"Silence!"

Everyone shut up and the banisters stopped rattling. "Chief Strategist," Rabishu said, "how many?"

"I could use some help with the numbers," Batarel said. "Perhaps we can take this discussion offline."

There were dark mumblings across the four tiers.

"I'm afraid I need an educated guess right now."

"A million," Batarel said.

The number appeared to be too large for most wizards in the chamber to comprehend.

"That's a hundred legions!" Eranos said. "There's no way we could ever cover this up."

"No," Batarel said. "And if we want to maintain control, we will need to explain to the people what is at stake. There is a rogue pattern that is trying to destroy us. Tell the people, and they will do what must be done. Losing a couple of generations is nothing compared to losing all of them!"

"They would blame the Council for this," Eranos said. "We sent the black holes. We allowed a rogue scholar to study heretical works. We failed to protect the realm from magical assault."

Eranos whispered something into Rabishu's ear. She nodded but didn't repeat his thoughts aloud.

"There is no need to divert blame," Batarel repeated. "We should simply tell the population what is at stake. They may even have other ideas on how to stop it."

"There is no way that anything that has been said here leaves this room," Rabishu stated quickly. "Not a damned word. This is sealed information, people. A word about any of this and you are dead. Our entire universe is at stake."

"That's exactly my point," Batarel said. Eranos continued to whisper in her ear.

"Thank you for your presentation, Chief Strategist. We have much to deliberate, but let's take a short recess first. You are all adjourned for an hour."

Batarel waited for the other wizards to file out of the room. Several of them approached, shook his hand, and thanked him for his presentation. Others avoided him or left without acknowledging him, but he didn't care. He waited at the door for Rabishu.

"May I talk with you privately?"

Eranos lodged a look of protest, but she waved him off. He gave Batarel a long stare before leaving the room. As the door shut, Rabishu's eyes softened toward Batarel. He breathed a sigh of relief as she brushed her hand across his scarred face and nicked him with one of the blades grafted into her body.

"Sorry, love. I forget they are there sometimes."

"What could have possibly possessed you to do that?"

She pushed them out of the slits on her arms and lifted the hems of her robe to reveal more blades along her legs. "They build their own legend. No one challenges me."

He thought of Eranos. "Instead they ply your ears with honey."

She laughed. "Jealous? You? I never would have thought it possible."

"I'm just wary. Eranos looks at me like a disease in need of a cure, and you seem warm to his counsel."

She reached down and massaged the front of his pants. "I warm for only one demon."

He smiled as she kissed and pulled him toward her podium.

"How come you never challenged me for high minister?" she asked. "With your connections and power, you could have easily held this spot."

"I'm not a politician," he said, planting kisses along her neck—which was thankfully free of blades. "I would rather be in the field solving problems."

Her brow furrowed as she squinted and grabbed him roughly. "Are you saying that I only make problems?"

"No," he corrected himself and smiled as she released his more delicate parts. "You just focus on fixing a different kind of problem. If I had to deal with people lying to me all day, I would probably solve it with a chaos bolt rather than actually wasting my time listening to them."

She laughed and pressed her body against him. "What a team we would make, Batarel! Me with my blades and you with your bolts and brains."

He smiled at the compliment, and she kissed him once more before spreading her green robe, dropping to her knees and lifting his purple robe.

Was the beautiful and cruel head minister of the Council of Wizards really thinking about partnering with him? 'Till death do us part' was a long time for someone who lived for millions of years, but as he held her blonde hair between his fingers, he certainly found himself entertaining the idea. He could do worse.
Chapter 5

The Lottery Winners

Lucifer emerged from the vortex before his brother and kissed the ground of his homeland. Blades of grass changed from green to purple as he rubbed his face against them. Ants scurried across the dirt, dissolved into the terra and reappeared in other places as they chirped their protests at Lucifer for disturbing the entrances to their subterranean villages.

He leaned his head back and took a long, deep breath of the slightly acidic air. Above him, white clouds floated into each other and canceled themselves out—revealing the binary stars that circled the large land mass suspended in space that housed the Chaos capital. He wished Azazel would have lasted long enough to see Alurabum one last time, but his friend died halfway through the vortex.

Lucifer looked around and recognized the location. Sariel and he were fifty miles outside of Alurabum, and they could be at the palace within minutes.

"We're so close to home," Lucifer said. "Should we send word ahead?"

"Already done," Sariel said with a grin. "Let's go ahead and start walking toward the Courts of Chaos. That will give them plenty of time to prepare a welcoming party."

As they strolled along a cobblestone path, Lucifer reminisced quietly to himself. He had lost his virginity inside one of the half dozen perpetual tornados above Ebih Hill to the left. His brothers and friends had played hide and seek in the nearby woods, which periodically changed between deciduous and coniferous leaves. The thought of his childhood brought back memories that he had suppressed since the Great War.

He wondered what Elandril was doing right now. Would the Goblin Prince have returned from his training in the distant celestial forges? Elandril probably knew about the Great War by now. How much of what Michael had told them on Earth was true? Did Chaos really start the war out of deep-seated racism?

He shook his head to clear his mind of the depressing topic and looked at his brother, who appeared worried.

"Heard anything from them yet?" Lucifer asked.

"Not a word."

"Did you try sending out another push?"

"Yeah. I even touched Batarel's mind for a brief moment. Maybe he's in a meeting."

Lucifer cracked his knuckles and stretched his arms. "I can't wait to be back in the capital. I'm so stoked. My hands are shaking. Look at this!"

Lucifer held out his arm and shook it exaggeratedly. Sariel laughed with him as they walked together and waved at a couple of lesser demons who had hurried to the roadway. They saluted Lucifer sharply, but one of them was chewing on his lip and looking at his friend in an excited, odd way.

"There he is," the demon said. "It's actually him!"

"Did you get a hold of Batarel?" Lucifer asked his brother.

"Yeah," Sariel said.

"And?"

"He said we need to stay put."

"Why?"

"He didn't say. They are apparently sending a party to us right now."

"Batarel didn't say anything else?"

Sariel didn't respond. He moved toward the two lesser demons but they bolted back to the small metal shack they had just come from.

"What the hell was that about?" Lucifer asked.

"I think something is up."

"Batarel didn't say anything else?" Lucifer repeated.

"He said not to fight them."

"Don't fight who?"

But Sariel disappeared. Apparated just like their uncle did. At least Sariel had the decency to see Lucifer back home first. Batarel, on the other hand, had some explaining to do.

Lucifer walked toward Alurabum again, but he stopped when he saw hundreds of red wings approaching. The demons ran along the ground with their tendrils and kicked up a mighty dust cloud behind them.

Leading the unit was a greater demon named Nergal, whom Lucifer had promoted to captain shortly before he left for Earth. Within seconds, the company had surrounded Lucifer. Their looks weren't at all what he'd been expecting.

"Prince Lucifer Kadingir," Nergal greeted him. "We will need you to come with us back to the Courts of Chaos."

"Is that an order or a request?"

Lucifer's instincts told him to grab his sword. He could feel his wings moving under his skin in agitation. Thirty to one? He had handled worse.

"Please, Prince Lucifer," Nergal said. "Your presence is requested at the Courts of Chaos. My men will escort you back."

"Will you walk with me?" Lucifer asked.

"Of course."

Though Nergal assumed a deferential stance, his thirty, hulking and fully-armored demon escorts never let their hands fall from their sword hilts.

"What's going on, Nergal?" Lucifer asked.

"A committee has been formed to investigate the Jehovan conspiracy."

"Jehovan conspiracy? Those bastards are all in Order now. We would better spend our time formulating how to stop the pattern jet that is coming toward us. What are they doing about that?"

Nergal didn't say anything for a long while. Lucifer stopped to await an answer, and a guard pushed him forward.

Lucifer spun on his heel and put his finger into the demon's cheek and summoned Michael's old sword from the ether. Nergal's fingers covered Lucifer's sword hand and he moved between the offending soldier and the Demon Prince. "Please, Prince Lucifer. Walk with me for a while. The rest of you, mind your distance."

Lucifer nodded and dismissed his sword. He put his hands behind his back and strolled beside Captain Nergal.

"After 500,000 years not seeing my homeland, I was hoping for a better reception."

"You're not impressed with the Royal Guard?"

" _Royal Guard_? I think I would know my own Royal Guard!"

"500,000 years!" the soldier behind Lucifer blurted. "More like 125,000. Just like a pampered royal to exaggerate his plight. How terrible you all have it!"

"That's about right," Nergal corrected him. "Time flows faster in Order than it does here, Adaru. From the briefings I've received, Prince Lucifer traveled through Chaos for about 100,000 years. The 25,000 other years were 400,000 in Order. From his perspective, he's experienced 500,000 years away from Chaos."

The soldier Adaru grumbled and turned away from his captain. Nergal decided to lead the conversation in a different direction.

"You asked what has been done about the Order pattern jet. That's probably the best place to start."

All along the path, demons were coming out in droves to see Lucifer. He could see small children running from door to door, screaming into the windows, and then stomping back to the path with neighbors in tow. None of them cheered. They just gawked.

"Your father ordered a lottery," Nergal continued.

"For what purpose?"

"Most of us are asking the same thing, but I believe that this menace from Order that you speak of may be the root of the matter. It's an especially large lottery, and there has been some disagreement among the lower and middle class about who should pay for it."

"There has been an uprising?"

"There is an ongoing investigation into the royal family's affairs," Nergal said delicately.

"Because of my scoundrel of a cousin?"

"And your brother Michael. And your cousin Gabriel. Many demons believe the Kadingir clan has bled the people in a meaningless civil war between family members."

"Those twenty-five thousand demons died on a military mission," Lucifer said, "and we couldn't have anticipated the lengths that Jehovah would go to. Even the Council was unprepared for the pattern magic that was used on Earth."

"I don't doubt that. Pattern magic is out of my expertise as well. But between the lottery and the King's reluctance to tell us what this culling would accomplish, the people have demanded justice."

"Justice?"

"My apologies," Nergal said. "Answers. The people would like answers."

"How big was this lottery?"

Nergal balked at answering again. He turned to Lucifer. "One million."

"One what?"

"Million."

Lucifer's jaw went slack, and he looked at the thousands of faces peering back at him along the road. No wonder they weren't cheering. He was surprised they weren't throwing food at him. Perhaps the sight of this new contingent of the Royal Guard was enough to dissuade them.

"I will find you answers, my people," Lucifer yelled to them. "I will get to the bottom of this. I promise!"

A few demons nodded, and maybe a flash of hope crossed a fraction of the faces, but most still looked on with borderline hatred. Many of these demons had probably lost loved ones to the lottery. A million demons represented a significant portion of the immortal population. The last census was only about ten million in all of Chaos.

The solemn walk continued for another five miles without another word from Lucifer or the Captain. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucifer saw something blurring and coming back into focus.

Every couple of minutes, it reappeared somewhere else. He looked closely at a five story red-brick building that was situated along the trajectory of the blip. Within minutes, a face and body appeared beside the building and then disappeared into a faint black mist.

Sariel was still around. That was a comfort.

Lucifer fell back slightly and turned toward Adaru. "May I speak with you?"

Adaru grunted and shrugged his shoulders, but he refused to look at Lucifer.

"Did you lose family in this lottery?" Lucifer asked. "Is that why you hate me?"

"I lost my sister and mother. My father opted to take the place of my brother, who was also picked."

"I am very sorry for your losses," Lucifer said. "Where is your brother now?"

Adaru pointed across the square formation of guards to a smiling, red-skinned demon who briefly bowed his head.

"And you?" Adaru asked with only slightly disguised malice. "Who have you lost?"

"I don't know. I haven't talked to any of my family here in many thousands of years. When I get to Alurabum, that will probably be the first thing I do."

"I can save you some trouble. None of your family died in the lottery."

Adaru looked away, and Lucifer set his jaw and ground his back molars. But this soldier had lost a lot, and Lucifer felt a strong kinship with any military man. He had been one for most his life.

"I lost twenty-five thousand brothers on Earth," Lucifer said. "The last one died on me in the vortex back there. I carried him on my shoulder for half a trillion light years. I dressed his wounds, and I laid him to rest in a fountain of energy in the deep recesses of our primal pattern. I have no idea if I've lost anyone in this lottery, but I have fought my way through hell and back again to return to you."

"Your father ordered the deaths of my sister and mother," Adaru said. "He would have killed my brother too if my father hadn't taken his place. You should have come back sooner and stopped him."

"Jehovah blocked my return," Lucifer said. "My father has always been a just ruler. I know you don't want to hear it, but those one million lives probably saved our entire realm from destruction. He wouldn't have done it otherwise."

Several soldiers grumbled and grunted.

"How many of you lost loved ones in the lottery?" Lucifer asked.

Everyone raised their hand, including Nergal.

Lucifer hung his head until his chin touched his chest. He dropped to his knees and put his hands to the dirt, exposing his neck.

"Get up," Adaru said, pushing Lucifer with his foot.

"If the royal family did not lose a single person to the lottery, then we owe you all a debt," Lucifer said. "Let it start with me."

The only answer was a shuffling of feet from those along the roadway. Lucifer could see hundreds of shoes and legs from his vantage point but not much else. "If you need royal blood to be shed, I'd rather you do it than Jehovah. If my death will cease this madness so we can at least put up a fight to save ourselves from annihilation, then I will gladly pay that price.

"Just give me a man strong enough to carry it out without the need to curse at me, despite my service to this universe. Give me an executioner who will let me move on with the same dignity that I gave my last soldier, Azazel. Make it quick. Make it clean and bury me in Chaos soil."

No one moved toward him. He thought he heard someone chuckling, and he jumped to his feet and drew his sword from the primal pattern once more. But as he turned, he saw that the company of soldiers was sniffling and not laughing at him, and Adaru was the loudest of the bunch.

Adaru dropped his sword to the ground and knelt in front of Lucifer. "Forgive me, Your Highness."

"No," Lucifer said, bowing his head in respect to Adaru. "Forgive me and my father."

Lucifer watched Adaru close his eyes and take a deep breath.

"I cannot speak about your father," Adaru said, "but I have already forgiven you."

Lucifer put his hand under the soldier's arm and helped him to his feet. As he was doing so, he locked eyes with a tall, blond demon he hadn't seen since the Goblin War. He nodded to the wizard, and Eranos Agalal bowed low in response. There was something about the wizard's smirk that set Lucifer's teeth on edge. He couldn't place where he had seen that half-smile before, but it would haunt him all the way back to Alurabum.
Chapter 6

From One Prison to Another

Lucifer sat on his lumpy bed and watched a Chaos beetle gore its way through the mortar that held the bricks together just behind the zinanbar bars of his cell. He didn't know why the beetle wasn't using one of the more convenient holes that he had punched through the walls with his wings during the previous two months. All around him, the smell of excrement and decomposing food wafted in through the porous walls and door. Lucifer didn't know what was worse: that the smell was always there or that he had gotten used to it.

The captives held here under the Courts of Chaos were relentless in their banter. His chief tormentor was Telal, a thief who his father King Ostat had imprisoned half a million years ago.

"Oh, Great Prince," Telal yelled down the hallway. "Are you still here with us wretches?"

"Yes," Lucifer grumbled.

Telal's delirious chuckling echoed down the hallway. "The _Great Commander of the Demon Army_ is stuck in a dungeon of insects and vermin. Do you still organize the rats into regiments?"

"Why? Are you wanting to sign up?"

"Oh yes, please, _Great Commander_. I will be the first to volunteer my services. You'll find that I am so much more skilled than the rest of your vermin followers. Yes, they can gnaw at their bars, and sure, they can defecate in a corner. But can they piss on command, Great Prince?"

Lucifer could hear the faint tinkling of liquid against a wall. He shook his head and sighed before replying. "While any commander worth his salt would gladly enlist the help of a spontaneous pisser, I am especially in need of someone who can choke to death on his own rations. Do you think you could oblige me?"

"Is that how they all died on Earth?"

Lucifer put his head in his hands as he thought of the screams from the second and third waves of demons that burned in Earth's atmosphere. Those had been the unlucky ones who had already pushed from the ground. They'd pawed helplessly against the air as they were flung into the same invisible substance that burned up the preceding waves.

To hell with this guy.

"Which cell are you in, Telal?" Lucifer asked. "What number is on your door?"

"510," someone else down the hall said.

Lucifer made some calculations. He knew these dungeons pretty well. 510 put Telal on the opposite side of the hall about twenty cells down. His red wings burst from his back and his tattered shirt as they writhed through the bars. He tested trajectories. Any glancing shots would soften the blows.

After several test runs, he retracted his tendrils and shot them directly at where he believed 510 should be. A couple of his wings clanged off zinanbar two or three cells down, but the others punched through brick wall after stubborn brick wall. Screams came from every direction through the many cracks and holes. He felt soft thuds against his assault and then a scream and a curse from Telal.

Lucifer had been on the mark. He recoiled his wings and sent out assault after assault until he heard no more grunts, moans, or screams from Telal or anyone else.

"He's out cold," Batarel said from behind him.

Lucifer stumbled against his soiled bed as he turned around, and his wings retracted into his body. "Is it really you?"

Batarel smiled. "You smell terrible."

"It's this place that smells terrible. Remove me from it, and I promise to regain better odors."

Batarel nodded and walked along the bars, his hands grasping the smooth metal and then passing along to the next.

"I've missed you, Uncle," Lucifer said. "Two months here and not a word from you."

"The Council wouldn't let me come any sooner. I'm afraid I'm here on official business."

"Official business? From the Council?"

"From the Courts," Batarel said.

Lucifer winced as he realized his uncle hadn't said anything about his father. This was official business from someone else's Courts. For months, Lucifer had hoped that his imprisonment was legal wrangling tied to the lottery. He hoped that his father had finally told the people why so many of them had to die.

Lucifer braced himself against the dirty bed. "Out with it."

"The Courts have passed to another family," Batarel said. "The Agalal clan will take over the secular rule of Chaos."

"Agalal? The previous clan?"

"Their patriarch has a lot of influence over the Council."

Lucifer remembered the blond with the half-smirk. "Eranos? A wizard on the throne? What about the separation?"

"He has convinced the Council that the arrangement is necessary. We're under magical attack, and Eranos claimed that he could break the barriers between the army and the wizarding core to unify the Council's efforts against Jehovah."

"This is your brother he's overthrowing," Lucifer said.

"I know."

"And you know that this coup is only weakening our universe."

"I've argued that, yes. But the people are angry, the Agalal clan are riding the public outrage, and my viewpoint is apparently biased."

"What is the lottery for, Uncle?"

"No one told you?"

"Unless something has changed, I doubt I am the only one," Lucifer said. "I ran into a huge crowd when I arrived a couple of months ago. None of them knew what the lottery was for either, and I promised them I would find answers."

"The lottery was something I requested," Batarel said. "To save the universe, we needed a large deflector made out of zinanbar. We had to kill a lot of immortals."

"Why didn't you tell the population? Our family's reign depended on that information."

"The Council decided against it."

Lucifer muttered angrily and fell backward onto the bed. "Do you always do what you are told?"

"No," Batarel replied, leaning against the metal posts.

"Well, when was the last time you went against the Council?"

"The Goblin War."

The Goblin War. There it was again. His whole family avoided the subject like a plague for a million years, and now they couldn't stop talking about it.

"So, you've delivered your message," Lucifer said. "You've done your duty. I guess you'll be on your way then?"

"That's not the whole message," Batarel said. There were tears in his eyes.

Lucifer sat up, steadied himself against the bars opposite his uncle. "Mother and father?"

"Yes," Batarel replied softly.

"When?"

"Tomorrow at noon."

Lucifer chewed hard at his hand, but no blood came out. His teeth couldn't cut through immortal skin.

"You're to be forced to watch, nephew," Batarel said.

"Oh, like hell I will!"

"I've fought hard to spare you and your brother. Sariel took very little explanation, as he is a part of the Council. You were not so easy. I've been fighting for you every day for months."

Lucifer's wings broke through his flesh again and weaved around the cell. "And what would they want with me?"

"I am not entirely sure," Batarel said as he dodged around some of the more excited scarlet tendrils. "Lucifer, we have to survive this coup. Don't do anything rash."

Lucifer felt his rage building. "Leave now, Uncle. I don't want to hurt you."

"I'll be there with you when it happens, Luke. I promise. I will always be by your side."

One of Lucifer's wings tore into the wall behind his uncle, exposing the next cell. "Uncle. Please go. You know how I get ..."

Batarel apparated out of the cell. Lucifer watched him through holes along the hallway. He pounded at the walls around him with his wings as he heard Batarel's footsteps gallop down the corridor. Pieces of brick scattered against Lucifer's face as he watched the cloak billow past the last opening.

He cracked the mortar and bricks of the cells around him for hours. Some of his greater demon neighbors used their wings to shield themselves from his onslaught. Lesser demons, however, had no wings to protect themselves. Instead, they tried to make themselves as small a target as possible. But no one was safe from his attacks. Not Telal down the hall. Not his uncle, if he hadn't left fast enough, and certainly not Eranos Agalal.

As Lucifer slumped against the rubble surrounding what was left of his bed and the unyielding zinanbar around his cell, the screams and moans of the demons around him merged with the legion he lost on Earth. He welcomed the coming nightmares almost as much as he embraced the terrible events of the looming day, but he was too tired to fight off the slumber that inexorably came... as his eyelids crept ever closer together...
Chapter 7

Courting the Council

Batarel tried to roll over, but Rabishu held onto him and forced her head onto his chest to anchor him in place. She was trying to be playful, but he wasn't a stuffed toy. After watching his nephew destroy much of the masonry in the prison wing under the Courts, he had a lot to think about, and he would do just about anything to postpone confronting how badly he had screwed things up.

She traced her fingers along one of the nastier scars on his chest and nicked his side with a blade that slipped out of her skin.

"Sorry, dear."

Batarel grumbled in response. Just another scar. He deserved that and more. Tomorrow his brother and sister-in-law would be put to death in front of an angry mob, and a powerful old enemy of his clan would ascend the throne. How had Eranos done it? Batarel would have been impressed had there not been such terrible ramifications for people he loved.

"May I ask you something?" he said.

"It's always business with you."

"I just have a lot on my mind."

"I know."

He recalled Ostat's wedding and his speech at the reception. Olivia had been so beautiful. Like any red-blooded demon, he had fancied her, but despite the promiscuous nature of demon society, she was his brother's and never to be his. And now her head would fall from a stone slab across bloodied steps. Children would play with it. He had seen too many beheadings to be naive about how the common folk would react.

"What is it?"

"I've failed my house."

She slapped him hard on the chest and gave him a disapproving look. "You are part of the Council. House ties die when you enter."

"Did they die for Eranos?"

"He sacrificed his neutrality for the greater good."

"You really believe that?"

She eyed him shrewdly. "Are you saying that I am so fresh out of the womb that he has betrayed my trust and manipulated me into endorsing a coup?"

"I would never say that." Batarel pursed his lips. She was on the right track, though. Eranos had single-handedly manufactured the Goblin War. That demon was capable of anything, just as long as it was devious.

"Tomorrow, I lose a brother, and maybe even two nephews."

"Sariel is Council," she said. "He's untouchable. And Eranos apparently has plans for Lucifer."

Batarel laughed and felt a sharp pain in his sides. Looking down at her he could tell that, this time, the blades coming out was no accident.

"Sariel's contract ends when his father's head falls to the pavement. Perhaps you've forgotten?"

She apparently had. Her eyes grew a bit wide. "I'll make sure he renews his contract."

"Eranos is about to behead the most efficient, benevolent, and pliable ruler that the Council has ever worked with, and two of the most dangerous demons in the universe are going to be forced to watch their father and mother die. Are you sure you can't convince Eranos to exile them instead?"

"All four of them?"

"The alternative is almost as bad as not building the deflector."

She retracted some blades from her arm on his chest, drawing more blood, and fluttering her eyes at him. "I can assure you that there are more dangerous creatures out there."

"Perhaps," Batarel said, "but you don't know Lucifer and Sariel like I do. When Lucifer gets angry, he doesn't get sloppy. Well, in a way, I guess he does, but in the heat of the moment, my nephew just gets more efficient. He improvises, and that makes it look haphazard, but he seems to have moments of clarity. He would have made a great king, but I have always wondered if he doesn't have a touch of oracle in him."

"Maybe we should recruit him into the Council," she joked, but he missed the humor.

"It's too late for that."

She rolled her head off his chest, and he watched her as she turned onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. She stretched out her arms, blade tips poking through the red slits in her skin. A chill spread down Batarel's spine.

"What would you have me do?"

Batarel moved to his side so he could view her closely. "Let me tell you a story..."

Her lips twitched and a grin crept across her face. She turned to meet his eyes.

"Your father has been captured by your enemies, and he has been slated for execution. After millions of years fighting for and serving the realm, and hundreds of thousands of years in prison, you, his heir apparent, have been ordered to watch this man's death. Your mother, too, will be looking at you as the executioner's axe falls down on her neck.

"Now, imagine the man who is killing your father is going to ask you to work for him."

She raised an eyebrow. "I see."

"Now, forget that you are a magic-less soldier who is limited by the carnage he can spread with two blades, one of which he has borrowed from a brother he has killed on Earth. Envision yourself as a magic-wielding, unscrupulous assassin who jumps at a contract whenever it might give him the opportunity to drive a short dagger into the heart of someone he has never met while breathing into their face. This is your father and mother on the slab, and you will no longer be bound by magical law enforced by your contract to the Council..."

"Sariel will renew. I'll draw up the papers tomorrow."

"After the beheading?"

"There will not be enough time before noon."

Batarel chuckled, put his hand to his mouth, and shook his head. She just wasn't getting it. Might as well just get to the question.

"You asked me what I am asking you to do, but I am more interested in what you wouldn't do."

"This sounds like a political question," she tilted her head as her jaw went slack. "From you? Really?"

"It's a practical question."

"Well, by all means, ask away."

"If there is an escape attempt tomorrow, will the Council interfere with the business of the Courts in the market place?"

She nestled her head back onto his chest and traced a finger along his largest scar again. He received another familiar stabbing pain in his side, but she didn't apologize.

"The Council only interferes in matters of magic. Eranos says he can handle the new realm and its secular affairs, and I see the executions as purely secular affairs. Unless magic is used to aid in an escape, I see no reason for our involvement."

Batarel kissed and mounted her. She couldn't have given him a more perfect answer. She placed a hand on his cheek and scratched along his jaw with both a fingernail and an extended blade.

"Perhaps a little rougher this time?"

"Yes, ma'am," he gladly obliged.
Chapter 8

The Making of Enemies

Lucifer shuffled along the rubble of his prison cell and past the doorway. He had no trouble moving of his own volition, but the two executioners in dark frock coats lassoed his neck with leather strips reinforced with zinanbar, nonetheless. He was so tired from his late night rampage against the cell walls that he didn't even protest the way they roughly handled him. What was the point?

They shackled his hands and feet, and the looped leashes reminded him of the first time his father had taught him how to tie his shoe laces.

"Hold it like this," Lucifer mouthed as the executioners pulled him down the prison corridor like an old mule being hauled out back after a lifetime of faithful service.

His father's words were interrupted by saliva on his face. Apparently, Telal was conscious again and spitting from the safety of cell 510. Lucifer's feet skidded to a stop. He pulled against the leashes, but the executioners were well rested and bulky greater demons. They won the tug-of-war, and Telal took the opportunity to cackle madly through the bars on his door. Lucifer rolled his head to his shoulder and smiled back at him.

"Be sure to come back for us vermin!" Telal called after him.

Lucifer measured the distance to cell 510 and readied his wings under his ruined shirt. Then, like a lightning bolt loosed from a cloudless sky, his red tendrils struck Telal in the face and shattered the already mangled frame of the door. Lucifer didn't have to look back at his target to know that he had struck true. If he hadn't, Telal would still be hurling insults. But Lucifer's attack didn't go unnoticed.

"Wings back in, or I'll start cutting off body parts," an executioner in front of him yelled.

Lucifer obliged, but he hadn't answered the previous request put to him by Telal. He leaned into the leash and cupped his hand toward the direction he had just come from. "Don't worry. I'll be back."

"Just keep moving," the other executioner said.

"What time is it?" Lucifer mumbled.

"Around eight o'clock."

"I was told that..." he struggled to form the words. "I thought I didn't have to be at the public market until noon."

"We're supposed to take you there early," the one to the left said. "The new king wants you to be part of the spectacle."

The executioner looked at him for an extended period of time. Because of the mask, Lucifer couldn't distinguish any facial features, but the eyes looked really familiar. They squinted from a smile beneath his mask.

"Just call me Ahu."

"What are you doing?" the other executioner said. "You can't tell him your name. That kind of crap can get you killed. Don't leave anything for the punished to remember you by. Remember your training."

"It's not my real name, Adaru."

The other executioner stamped his feet into the ground and huffed angrily.

"That's not my real name, either," Adaru said, looking at Lucifer out of the openings in his mask.

"Yeah, it is," Ahu said. "You even showed me your identification card. Adaru. South side of Alurabum."

Lucifer chuckled. Brother. Ahu meant brother in the old language.

"Nice to meet you, Ahu."

He nodded back to Lucifer but kept his head forward.

"How about you take these cuffs off?"

"Not a chance," Adaru said.

Lucifer tried to get closer to Ahu, but Adaru kept him at bay.

"Are you really going to let this happen?"

"We don't have much choice," Ahu said. "Not yet."

"Hold your tongue, idiot!"

"When that blade falls down, my service is up," Ahu said as he gazed back at Lucifer. "My father's signature entered me into my uncle's profession, and that contract is null and void after today. I will be unbound from my obligations."

"Well, if you don't want to be here, take me somewhere else. I don't want to watch this."

Adaru tugged hard on his leash, sending Lucifer into the stone floor. Ahu grabbed him under the arms and stood Lucifer up.

"We all have to watch this. Otherwise, we might forget what happened and who is responsible."

The other executioner shook his head. "You know I can report you for this, right?"

Ahu stopped and nodded before walking alongside the demon again. "You're right. Of course, you are right. These are trying times, but it's no reason to lose my head. I'm out of line. You have every right..."

Adaru put a free arm around Ahu's shoulder, but then stiffened as Ahu forced two blades into his chest and drove him into a nearby unoccupied cell. Lucifer, still leashed, was pulled into the room as well and fell on top of the eviscerated demon. Ahu rolled free of the entanglement and circled the room, breathing heavily and twirling his daggers.

"Was that really necessary, Sariel?" Lucifer said as he dusted the front of his shirt with his shackled hands and struggled to roll off the dying demon.

"I may not be able to stop my parents' murder because of a direct order from Rabishu, but I can sure kill this ugly bastard." Sariel lifted the black cloth that draped across the gurgling man and spat in his face. "Good riddance."

Lucifer laughed.

"I'm so very angry," Sariel said.

"Me too. I could slaughter the whole capital right now."

Sariel nodded in agreement. "We may get that chance. I just hate that it has to wait until after I watch that filthy Agalal bastard gloat over my mother's dismembered corpse."

"Get these chains off me, and let's get out of here. Maybe we can even grab mother and father."

Sariel let out a low grumble that built into a terrible scream. He doubled over and panted before putting his hand on Lucifer to steady himself. "Can't... under direct magical orders... completely bound to my directives... Have to lead you to the execution and watch right beside you and Batarel... Let the new regime exert itself and take it like a good little subject..."

Lucifer kicked at the wall and howled furiously. "I'm going to rip that royal imposter limb from limb! He's mine, Sariel. Promise me."

"Yeah, alright. Eranos is yours."

Sariel's shoulders jerked involuntarily, and he grabbed the leash and resumed pulling. "Sorry, brother. Orders are kicking in again. Can't resist them."

"It's OK," Lucifer said. "I'm glad you'll be with me."

Sariel nodded but grumbled as he rearranged his black hood and brushed dirt from his coat. "This next part is going to be difficult brother. We have a long walk ahead of us."

"The market is just outside the front gates."

"The reason we're up so early is for you to be paraded around the town."

Lucifer muttered angrily as they marched up a spiral staircase into the main floor of the Courts. He looked toward the throne, and there was the man with the irritating smirk. He was standing in front of the throne and surrounded by dozens of courtiers who were primping his blond hair, spreading powder across his face and straightening his seams and long, flowing robe.

Lucifer set his feet into the ground as his wings burst from his back and coiled like a nest of snakes preparing to feast on a succulent deer. But no matter how hard he tried to unleash his fury, his wings held back. He looked up and saw them bound together inside purple loops. His shoulders slumped as he traced them back to the end of the leash, where his brother was hunched and shaking.

"Orders... brother... can't fight them..."

Behind Lucifer, Eranos's laugh echoed against the walls of the throne room. Lucifer fought his brother's leash all the way out the double doors leading to the market and the doom of his father and mother.
Chapter 9

The Executions

Kimah Agalal adjusted his hat three times in the mirror, but no tilt was going to hide his rotund tummy. He adjusted his gold royal adviser sash across his shoulder and reapplied the seven pins that were holding it to the fabric wrapped around his waist. It was a hopeless effort.

"You look fine, brother," Eranos said from behind him. "Can I use the mirror now? You do realize that this is _my_ day, right?"

Kimah spread his black collar and folded it down once more. He looked at Eranos in the mirror, who was jeweled, robed, and draped in royal purple. He didn't need a mirror. Dozens of attendants had groomed, manicured, and dressed him earlier.

"This is not just your day; this one is for all of the Agalal clan. We have reached the culmination of millions of years of work, brother. The Goblin War... The dozens of millennia spent in the library feeding Jehovah those books... The bribes and the murders..."

"I know how much you've done, Kimah. That's why you are my right-hand man."

Kimah grinned and let his pride glow through his cheeks. He had earned this day.

"Now, get into the market and show off our spoils," Eranos said as he bumped Kimah out of the mirror's reflection and adjusted his own trinkets, sashes, and collars. "I want him feeling nice and wretched by the time I make my offer."

"He's restrained, right?" Kimah turned to find Eranos smirking.

"Oh, quite," Eranos replied. "Tell the executioner to keep up the good work!"

As Kimah pushed through the double doors of the throne room and exited the Courts into the square, he was hailed by an executioner to his left. The prisoner's head was downcast, and he had fresh stains on his shirt and tattered pants. Below him were the remains of hundreds of vegetables and fruits. Kimah looked down the stairs to make sure that the crowd had ceased their mortars.

"Has he eaten or drunk anything yet?" Kimah asked.

The executioner shook his head.

"Good. He should look extra weak and pathetic, then. Where is the other executioner?"

"Dead. Lying in a cell."

"Goodness gracious! What happened?"

"His heart stopped beating, and he had trouble breathing and just... living in general, I guess."

Kimah looked at the purple wings binding Lucifer's red ones over his head. "Will they hold?"

"I think you would know if they didn't."

"Well, let's get on with it then."

Kimah pranced down the stairs and gloated to the crowd. "Here he is, my friends! Leader of the Doomed Legion! Your new King has captured him even easier than the mad scholar Jehovah did, and look how he struggles down the steps now. Is this who you looked up to? What a travesty! His talents were wasted under a cruel, inept crown!"

Kimah bounded down the stairs three at a time to extricate himself from the vegetable firing range. Despite his head start, he was pelted by no fewer than four pieces of produce.

"Don't worry, folks! General Lucifer here will be taking the grand tour of Alurabum with me. With just under three and a half hours until the festivities begin, our great commander here will have plenty of time to bask in the wonderful changes his family has brought to our city!"

"Yours or mine?" Lucifer loudly asked the executioner.

"Mine. Definitely mine."

Kimah paid them very little attention. He shook hands with the crowd and kissed a few baby demons of varied colors that were handed to him. He was quickly molested by some of the street walkers who were standing right next to the conservative new mothers.

He embraced two of the scantily-clad prostitutes and hung from their shoulders as he watched more fruit mortars connect with Lucifer's face. "Ladies, ladies. Don't you know I'm a married demon?"

"No, you're not!" one of them shouted with a playful smile. "Or at least, you didn't seem to be married last night!"

The crowd laughed and moved along with Kimah, but he didn't let go of the prostitutes until they started pulling on his fragile sash. He wagged a finger at them and jogged ahead of the prisoner as the mob parted before him.

"The poor prince hasn't eaten today," Kimah baited the crowd. "Surely, someone has something for him to munch on!"

The executioner pulled Lucifer forward. With his various bindings, the prisoner was an easy target. Kimah grinned as Lucifer leaned his head back and spat seeds and fruit innards into the air. He appeared to mumble something to the executioner, who in turn shook him off.

They walked toward the main barracks and military academy, the streets and thirty-foot stone walls lined with thousands of demons. Lesser and greater demons, soldiers and factory workers, children and crippled old hags were all cheering him on now.

"And what of our mighty Fifth Legion?" Kimah yelled to the soldiers at the top of the barracks. "The Kadingir clan sent them to Earth, and now our brothers, sons, and fathers can never come back home. "

The soldiers looked down at Lucifer, but none of them tried to throw any food. Perhaps the army officers had ordered them not to. The common folk on the ground level certainly hung on his every word, though.

"Over a million of your kin gone! And what reasons did they give you?"

"None!" An old man screamed as he hurled a melon at the prisoner. "Not a single justification for my wife and son!"

"We will give you answers," Kimah said, hugging the man and raising his hand high. "For we are not the tyrants you have overthrown these past few months! We are the caring rulers of old. We are the bringers of peace and prosperity."

"Don't you guys have more produce to throw?" Lucifer screamed. "The less thudding you make against my body, the more I have to listen to this conniving piece of crap!"

"That's right, ladies and gentlemen!" Kimah smiled. "Let him have it! The Prince has not yet become full. You, sir, help your child with that rock and upgrade your artillery. Let the outgoing regime know just what you think of them and their flagrant disregard for your lives."

A young demon threw a rock and hit Lucifer solidly in the face. Kimah bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"You've seen how they warred against each other. But did we not have our own problems? Did they care about us?"

"No," the crowd yelled.

"But here we are... Knee deep in demon blood... wading through a civil war. You know what? I think I might even understand now where Jehovah and his angels were coming from. I mean, what choice did they have, really? Look who and what they had to deal with."

He pointed at the drenched, hunched-over figure behind him. The executioner was dragging Lucifer along now and he kept looking up to the soldiers on the barracks.

"Remember me, men!" Lucifer called to them.

"Yes," Kimah said. "Remember the leader who lost 25,000 of your brothers, fathers, and uncles. What victories has he brought you recently? Anything within the past 150,000 years? Are we not champions in battle? Have we not destroyed everyone we've ever faced? Do we not deserve to win once again? Well, you've beaten another enemy back across the gates today. The Kadingir clan has lost its great battle against the people of Chaos. Our ultimate triumph starts here... on the streets of Alurabum!"

A vast cheer roared over the rooftops as men and women broke into chants, song, and screams. Kimah jumped on top of the concrete base of a magical lamppost and waved to the crowd. He pumped his fists, and laughed at the females who were flashing their breasts at him. Yesterday, he was nobody. Today, he was a god!

The crowd moved around to the south of the city, past the great markets and shops of the rich. Zinanbar tinkled across the palms of hundreds of merchants as they sold confectionery and more rigid ammunitions. They pelted Lucifer mercilessly, and Kimah goaded them on but dissuaded several of the larger, denser demons from dismantling buildings for stones to throw at their mark. There had to be some order, after all.

"Don't give him the satisfaction of knowing he destroyed more of your city," Kimah told them. "Don't you give him that!"

The prisoner and his executioner continued to talk. The darkly dressed demon pulling Lucifer along by a leash was just as soiled and spattered as his prisoner.

"We should get you a longer leash," Kimah apologized to the executioner.

"Too late for that," the demon shrugged. "Thankfully, the coat is waterproof. Vegetables, fruit, blood... it should all come off."

"That's good to hear," Kimah clasped his shoulder and avoided more fruit lobs.

The mob now numbered in the hundreds of thousands, and Kimah had them hanging from his every word. He stopped the procession several times to organize the youths like a striker battalion, each cocking their arms to hurl food or rocks instead of wings at a single target.

Even as they passed through the slums of western Alurabum, Lucifer remained quiet. He hadn't tried to plead his case since the mob visited the barracks. Maybe he was done fighting. Maybe Eranos was right. A broken demon could be built back up. If the Agalals could give him something to live for again, he might become one of their staunchest supporters.

The lesser demons of the slums had lost the most family in the lottery, so they were the staunchest supporters of the overthrow. But they didn't have enough zinanbar to waste precious food. They lobbed clay and mud instead, and Kimah was greatly impressed with their planning and perseverance. Tables had been prepared with bricks of the dark stuff—no doubt baked weeks in advance.

With the recent deaths of many of the middle class and artisans, perhaps these crafty individuals could plug the holes in the mercantile industry. Kimah rubbed his hands together greedily. There was no profit like slave labor profit.

He pleaded, baited, and cajoled his way through the crowds and delivered his prisoner to the main market in front of the palace with fifteen minutes to spare. Eranos was already there, sitting on a golden throne on a balcony overlooking the plaza. Kimah waved to his brother and raised his hands to the sky.

Eranos nodded back at him as Kimah ascended a makeshift stone platform at the center of the plaza. All the booths, tents, and buildings had been removed for this event. He grasped the wooden center block and tried to shake it, but the masons had done their jobs well. No matter what force came down on this block, it would resist mightily.

Kimah jumped down from the execution platform and went back to the small dais perfectly situated in front of the large crowd. Like a musical conductor, he rolled up his gold and black silky sleeves and motioned for quietness, and the mob of demons all too happily complied. The main event had arrived. A royal bloodletting.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the new king Eranos, in his grace and majesty, has bestowed upon me the honor and privilege of orating today's events. I, your humble and faithful servant Kimah Agalal, rejoice with all of you in the justice of this day."

The demon mob cheered and jeered once more.

"Look how far we've come in so short a time. Only months ago, our great King Eranos fought the lottery, and yet the Courts went ahead with it anyway. He went to task for you then, and day after agonizing day, he watched as more were taken in this great culling. A million souls lost!

"And for what? To quench the irrational blood-thirst of an evil, maniacal monarchy—a brood of disobedient, selfish, and arrogant termites that burrowed into the very foundations of our society. They wormed their way into our guts and hollowed us out."

The crowd came to life again. "Kill the bastards! Kill them all!"

"I am but a mouthpiece of His Majesty," Kimah said, pointing to his lips and then holding onto his chest. "But I know his pain. I know his suffering. Who could have stood by and watched and done nothing? What soulless creatures would have possibly bathed in the blood of our youth and thrown away an entire immortal generation?"

The multitudes shook their heads in response. He smiled.

"The Kadingirs, that's who."

He turned toward a third platform where Lucifer and his executioner now mounted the marble steps. The executioner pushed Lucifer into a black zinanbar cage, which locked automatically behind him. The executioner unlocked the shackles for long enough to pull Lucifer's wings through the bars to rebind them and manacle the prisoner's hands against the bars.

"Look at their hollow eyes," Kimah said. "Look at their wretchedness!"

Boos and hisses drowned out the speaker, and demons close enough to Lucifer spat in his face. Kimah looked up at the balcony where Eranos remained seated. The new king rose as his brother gently pushed with his mind to signal that the crowd was ready.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Kimah said, "King Eranos speaks!"

All around the square, demons dropped to their knees. Finely garmented ladies knelt in the mud next to naked children, already coated with years of grime and dirt. They put their filthy fingers into their mouths, poked at the hems of the beautiful dresses and playfully lifted up the rich, intricately-patterned skirts.

"My fellow demons and loyal subjects," Eranos spoke smoothly. "Thank you for standing beside me and opposing this evil tyranny that came before me. Thank you for having the strength and conviction to see this day through. The Kadingir clan has left us with a great chasm in our hearts. Our sons and daughters, husbands and wives, aunts and uncles, and other close relations have been stripped from our bosoms and cast into the vast void... the eternal abyss. I can't bring your loved ones back. I cannot undo the tragedies that have been committed against us all."

Kimah looked at the faces of the crowd. Tears brimmed in every eye. Even the stalwart royal guards, dressed in their finest black, purple and white doublets, fought back sniffles as they held the mob at bay.

"But..." Eranos continued, "I can offer you something to begin the painful process of healing and start filling that void. Blood for blood. Eye for an eye. Today, I present to you Ostat and Olivia—the rulers who have brought you so much pain, death, and misery. Today... we fight back against their oppression and greed by taking their souls from them, just like they took away our loved ones forever!"

The crowd erupted all around the city. Maelstroms popped up beside the balcony and executioner's block as long distance viewers tuned in.

"Bring out the traitors to Chaos!"

Kimah couldn't hear the wheels of the carts over the chants, cries, and screams, but he knew that Ostat and Olivia were making their way to the chopping block. He could see the food flying across and into other demons' heads. He watched as huge brutes ran into the pulsating mob. They kicked, punched and spat at the prisoners being pulled behind four black-masked executioners.

And then there they were. Ostat and Olivia, both bruised and wet, arms in pillories and heads forced downwards. Each was gagged, and blood dripped from their faces. Ostat's brother Batarel walked beside them with an active shield that repelled the clay and food missiles being flung all around him.

Kimah watched as Batarel somberly moved to the Prince's platform and stopped beside his nephew. Batarel placed a hand on Lucifer's shoulder, and the shackled demon said something to his executioner. The executioner nodded. Kimah wondered what they were talking about.

Eranos waved toward Kimah to indicate that his speech was finished. Kimah waited for the old king and queen to be hauled past him and followed them up the ramp to the stone slab. The crowd was already chanting for the Kadingir heads.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please!" Kimah said. "Allow me to be the instrument of your justice."

As the royal couple were slowly wheeled around to face the majority of the crowd, Kimah bent down to be at eye level with Ostat. "Ostat, I will ask you both a set of simple questions, and you are to nod your head for yes or shake your head for no. Do you understand?"

Ostat nodded, but Lucifer screamed above the chattering crowd. "Let him speak! For months you have silenced my family so that we could not answer the people's questions. They seek justice, and you, oh mighty Eranos, claim to be a just king. Will you not allow their voices to be heard so the people can see and hear this royal treachery for themselves?"

Kimah looked up to Eranos, who had a hand to his chin and a furrowed brow. Kimah knew that Eranos still wanted Lucifer to command the Chaos armies. He was the most capable military man in the universe.

The new king stood up and approached the railing. "Being a just king, as the prisoner has noted, I will grant this request, but I warn you citizens to take care how much weight you give this creature. He has killed your loved ones without remorse, and he will try to soften your hearts and your minds with lies. Stay strong and stay vigilant."

"Thank you, wise King," Lucifer said from his platform.

Kimah eyed the Prince shrewdly. He was up to something, and Eranos was giving him and Ostat a dangerous platform. He motioned one of the executioners aside and spoke into his ear. "If I give a cutthroat sign, you are to behead Ostat and Olivia regardless of the circumstances. Do you understand? This comes straight from the King."

The executioner nodded and resumed his post beside Ostat. Kimah looked to Eranos and then removed the gag from Ostat's mouth. Ostat coughed and licked his lips before dipping his head as best he could toward Eranos.

"Here are the charges," Kimah continued loudly. "We have evidence that you gave an executive order to murder a million demons. Is this true?"

"Yes," Ostat said. "I gave an executive order to conduct a lottery to save our universe and the pattern that projects it."

"Well, with a savior like this, who needs enemies?" Kimah asked sarcastically. "A few more heroic deeds like that and we would have nothing left to save, now would we?"

"The Council assured me that one lottery of sufficient size would be enough," he replied.

Kimah quickly turned to the crowd to head off any discussion of the Council. This had already gotten out of hand. "He has admitted it. We've all heard it directly from his mouth, but there are more charges."

He turned on his heel and put his finger into Ostat's face. "Did you or did you not send your son Lucifer and 25,000 of our loyal soldiers into a foreign realm without any reconnaissance?"

"The Council assured me that my nephew Jehovah was incapable of creating a primal pattern and had not been trained in pattern magic. We believed we were stopping an insurrection against the people of Chaos. We had no idea the Council had allowed such dangerous knowledge to leak from the Chaos Library."

"And Jehovah was the only Kadingir clan member to be involved in this plot to use forbidden magic on our people and against our universe?"

"No."

"Who else?"

"My son Michael and nephew Gabriel were among the offenders," Ostat said.

"And you would let them go? You would allow them to conspire against us and give them hundreds of thousands of years to prepare an army to kill more of our demon children? How do you plea to this charge of aiding and abetting a treasonous litter?" Kimah raised his hands to the crowd. He was sure he had Ostat now.

"I would kill them with my own bare hands if you would but let me go. No father should have to see his own son rebel against him. Look what he has done to me and his mother? Look at my wife."

Olivia leaned against Ostat's shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Do not ask us to feel sorry for you and your kin," Kimah redirected the conversation. "Where were you and your kin when the lottery came down?"

"I don't know. Where were you and your kin?"

Kimah shook his finger in Ostat's face. "This isn't about me. This is about you."

"You're right, and I have a request. When that executioner's blade removes my head from my shoulders, I want my body added to the lottery. Use my soul to reinforce the zinanbar deflector. I beg you!"

How to twist this? It only took Kimah a couple of seconds to come up with the answer.

"So, when you are about to die, you finally join the lottery. A martyr now that your death is imminent. How convenient! Can you believe this guy?"

But behind him, Kimah heard a small boy ask his mother what a deflector was. Similar questions sprouted simultaneously throughout the crowd. Kimah looked at the executioner and his hands began to shake. He steadied them atop his large belly, so they would be in position to give the signal. He turned his back to the bulk of the crowd and eyed the lead executioner directly.

"The zinanbar deflector," Batarel said from Lucifer's platform, "is the product of the lottery. It is being built ten light years away, directly in the path of Jehovah's super weapon. When the pattern bolt arrives in seven months, the deflector that the Council petitioned for will be operational. It will divert the bolt away from our primal pattern and will save us all from extinction."

Kimah panicked. His hands jerked to his throat so hard that he punched himself in the esophagus. He coughed and wheezed but once he got back control of his faculties, he made the cutthroat sign. Clearly. In front of everyone.

Behind him, he heard a wet thud and then metal on stone. Kimah's eyes grew wide as something round and bloody bumped against his leg and then rolled down the stairs and into the crowd, who appeared to be in such shock that they didn't even kick it around like they usually did at beheadings.

Another thonk and the shink of metal grinding through wood and biting into concrete, and then another squishy bounce. The hair stopped this one closer to Kimah's leg. Olivia looked up at him from glazed eyes. Her lips trembled briefly, and then they moved no more.
Chapter 10

Parting Gifts

Lucifer stared through the bars at his mother's head while Sariel grabbed his shoulder and leaned against the cage.

"What just happened?" Sariel asked.

But Lucifer couldn't answer. He sank to his knees inside his prison. He felt alone and hollow, even with his uncle and brother beside him. Thankfully, everyone else in the courtyard was in just as much shock.

"Deflector?" people continued to ask.

"We don't have a lot of time, boys," Batarel said. "So, I will be quick. If there was a time that you should leave Alurabum, now is that time. Public blunders by a new administration are generally met by overcompensating in ruthlessness to maintain a semblance of authority and order."

Lucifer looked up at Eranos, who was standing on a golden balcony looking down at him.

Batarel pushed Lucifer but didn't break him from his stare.

"I've gotten assurances that as long as magic is not used here, the Council will consider any escape attempt to be purely a Courts affair."

Eranos moved his hand to the railing. He was unabashedly eyeing the Kadingir clan members. Lucifer looked away from the new king and instead watched as a child picked up his father's head. The demon boy offered it to an older demon but the man pushed it back.

"Put it down, son," he told the boy.

_Put it down, son_ , Lucifer thought. He imagined his father's head telling him the same thing. Put it down. Put the rebellion down. Put this new king down.

"Lucifer," Batarel said, punching him in the arm. "Do you understand?"

Lucifer's eyes moved back to the balcony. This demon was going to die.

"I don't do magic, Uncle. So there's nothing to worry about."

"I know. I'm talking about you getting out of here. Do you think you can do that?"

But another voice boomed above them all. Eranos was now speaking directly to the Crown Prince.

"General Lucifer," he said. "No son should ever watch his father and mother die violently in front of him. And nothing I can say now will fully heal your wounds..."

"Watch him," Batarel whispered. "He's as slippery as an eel..."

"But you know this enemy better than most. He is your cousin, and from his attacks on us here, I know he is both ruthless and cunning. We need someone equally as ruthless and cunning to lead our men and women into battle. We need a Grand Commander. I want that person to be you."

The silence was so intense that insects walking across stones startled demons like thunderclaps.

"I will stand by you in whatever you decide to do," Batarel continued to whisper, "but remember, nothing about this demon is what it seems. He is dangerous, he is a liar, and he is not your friend. And this is not the first king he has killed."

"What are you talking about?" Lucifer asked.

"King Veldin, during the Goblin War."

Lucifer recalled meeting the King during a visit with Sariel and Elandril at Primelven University, after Sariel and Elandril had been kicked out of Chaos University for rampant test copying. Veldin was a very quiet and highly revered man in Arnessa, the Goblin Realm capital. Lucifer never saw him again—alive or dead. After the assassination, the goblins recovered the body and hid him from the victorious demons. Lucifer was always thankful for that. When wingless lesser demons in a mob get hold of a major politician, there is no limit to what they will do with the corpses.

"Elandril's father?"

Batarel nodded. "Eranos was the assassin. He volunteered—requested the assignment before we were even at war. He had a hand in starting that whole mess."

"No evidence against him, though, I take it?"

Batarel looked directly at Sariel. "There are orbs in the Council Library that can prove it. Section eight I believe."

Sariel nodded back, and Lucifer bowed slightly toward Eranos.

_Put it down,_ his father's voice echoed in his mind.

Lucifer straightened himself within his cage and felt Sariel slowly release the bindings on his wings. He tried to keep his tendrils from flailing about. Eranos couldn't suspect anything.

"You are correct that Jehovah is cunning," Lucifer said. "And I have every right to hate him and lead armies against him for corrupting my twin brother and attacking our primal pattern with his cosmic death ray. But Jehovah is not the biggest threat to our universe. Enemies fester within our realm, and hollow us out as we go about our daily business. They deprive us of our allies. They murder those that would serve us. They kill us with their words just as surely as any magical super-weapon ever could."

Eranos gripped the banister in front of him tighter, and Lucifer dropped his wings lower until they reached the ground. He pushed gently against the stone slab to prepare his strike and watched the smaller platform change color and texture in response. He'd have to be quick. He could already see the palace guard mobilizing.

"I believe you manufactured this fracture in my clan. You created an enemy for yourself in the form of my cousin—one you thought you could control, but he has proven far more capable than you ever imagined. But Jehovah is nothing compared to the mortal enemy that you have birthed this day. For you have made an eternal foe out of me in that pool of blood under my mother and father, and I will devote the rest of my life to seeing you meet your own violent end!"

Lucifer's wings punched through the rocks below him as they lifted his cage to balcony level while others shot into the castle walls and launched him like a missile toward the King. He heard Eranos scream seconds before impact, but the awkwardness of the cage spun him out-of-control, and he quickly lost track of his nemesis.

The cage ripped through the railing and the balcony floor as Lucifer hurtled across the courtyard. He tried to correct his trajectory, but his tendrils hit nothing of substance and did little to soften his noisy impact into the castle wall.

"Guards!" Kimah screamed. "Guards!"

Lucifer wiped blood out of his eyes, and looked up in time to see the King fall from the balcony. Eranos was unconscious. His wings weren't even out, and he hit the ground hard. Not hard enough to kill him—greater demons were tougher than that, but at least the bastard would feel it later.

Lucifer fumbled around with his chains and checked himself for the source of the blood, but it wasn't him. A teenager near the cage pointed out the arm stuck between the bars. Eranos's arm. Lucifer yanked it free and raised it high.

"Today, I take the first piece of this imposter with me. Look to the direction of the deflector for Jehovah, you dog, but you will not know which direction I will hit you from. You may wake in the middle of the night, and I'll be there—holding your other arm in front of you."

Hundreds of guards closed in on him. Their swords were out, but they timidly approached. Lucifer dug his wings into the ground once more and launched his cage into the heavens. Faster and faster he rose as his wings dug furiously and violently into Alurabum's delicate buildings. Behind him, the entirety of the palace guard was in close pursuit.

***

Sariel, still dressed in his executioner's mask and uniform, walked over to his uncle and laughed. "Did you see that?"

Batarel nodded, but Kimah was less impressed.

"The King is down. Do something, you fools!"

Two guards, who had apparently stayed behind, noisily exited the palace and placed themselves between Eranos and the crowd.

"I have been ordered by the Council to only interfere here if magic is used," Batarel said. "But I can send a message to Rabishu, if you like."

"I didn't get paid to babysit a king," Sariel said.

Kimah ran to Eranos. "Someone get a med kit!"

Sariel's purple wings danced behind him as he launched himself forward and came close enough to Kimah to breathe on his neck through his thin black mask.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kimah said. "Someone get me a doctor, now!"

Sariel walked onto the main platform and ran his hands over his father and mother's bodies. This was a poor death. They deserved better. A demon boy hugged Ostat's head close to his chest, and Sariel motioned for him to relinquish it.

"I'll take care of it," the boy promised.

Sariel removed his mask. "That's my father you are holding there."

"You should get out of here, sir," a man beside the boy said. "I'm an undertaker. I'll take care of their burial."

"What's your name?"

"Harold."

"And your son?"

"Joshua."

"That's a good name," Sariel said. He looked back to the boy. "I want my mother and father properly buried in an unmarked grave. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Harold promised.

"Far away from here. And there should be a real prayer."

"Yes, sir. To whom should the prayer be directed?"

"Whoever will listen," Sariel said. "If I find my father or mother hanging from these walls, I'll be back. And I'll be looking for you. You know what I am right?"

Harold nodded.

"Don't make me come looking for you, Harold. No one survives me looking for them."

"I understand, sir."

Sariel threw the mask to the ground and helped Harold push the carts and pillories down the ramp. The crowd parted before them, and Kimah hailed them—apparently he hadn't heard any of the conversation.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. "That's royal property."

"You're damn right, it is!" Sariel wheeled around and extended his wings menacingly.

Kimah bolted toward the palace gates, and Sariel laughed as he shot two wings at the demon's legs. He lifted the adviser and dangled him from far above.

"Not so fast, porky."

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!"

"Not a good start to the conversation, Kimah. Her body isn't even cold yet." Sariel turned toward the crowd. "Harold! I don't hear those cart wheels creaking!"

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

The air grew rapidly colder. A lesser wizard might not have recognized it for what it was, but Sariel raised a shield just as a massive fireball rained down on him.

"Self defense, Uncle."

"Get on with it, or get the hell out of here," Batarel said.

"Fine, fine. I'm on it."

"Kill him!" Kimah pleaded, pointing toward Eranos. "He's the one you want."

"I'm not that kind of assassin," Sariel said. "I prefer live prey."

"He's still alive. I checked his pulse."

"Yeah, but he's not able to fight back. No sport in it. You, on the other hand, are more of a challenge. You just proved it with that fireball."

Sariel pulled the fat little demon closer, and Kimah released another fireball at him.

"Leave me alone!"

"Get on with it, or get the hell out of here," Batarel repeated.

"I'm on it."

Sariel gave a hard yank on his wings while simultaneously summoning two of his zinanbar blades. They effortlessly ripped through Kimah's portly belly and spilled the contents across the central platform, where they added to the gore of the beheadings.

Kimah stumbled and groped around the slab, trying to replace his entrails. Sariel raised his hands to the shocked crowd.

"You wanted blood, yeah?"

Several managed to nod.

"Well, my brother took our new King's left hand earlier." Sariel grabbed Kimah from behind and put a blade to his throat. "And now I'm taking his right."

A quick slash and Kimah fell to the hard, unyielding rock. The textures and colors changed as blood spread across the surfaces.

Sariel backed away from Kimah. He began to walk toward the King, and the guards struck defensive poses. Sariel giggled at the nervous way their eyes moved about.

"It's alright," Sariel said. "I'm Council."

He used two of his wings to scoop Eranos up and bring him to the platform. He marvelled at the way the guards gawked at each other instead of stopping him.

"When I agreed to leave you to my brother," he said as leaned his head back and cursed his brother for leaving his task undone. "I never imagined killing you would be quite so easy."

"Wakey, wakey," Sariel said as he magically pushed with his mind.

Eranos sputtered and moaned as he regained consciousness. "My arm..."

"You're right, Your Highness," Sariel said. "You are definitely going to need to be armed. As a member of the Council, I feel it is my duty to serve you in this regard. I'll go get your guards."

Sariel apparated, and Eranos dropped unceremoniously to the hard, bloody granite top. But soon, he wasn't alone. All around him, wizards were apparating in.

***

Eranos groaned as he sat up. He instinctively tried holding onto his left arm to dull the pain, but he grasped at nothing.

"We felt magic being used," Rabishu said, exposing several blades and whirling around as she looked for a target.

"It was Kimah," Batarel said, a shield protecting him. "Sent two class five fireballs, and Sariel had to defend himself."

"Where is he?" Eranos asked weakly. "Where is Lucifer?"

Above them, the sounds of dozens of apparations could be heard, and squishy, wet lumps fell to random locations in the square. Some splattered onto the ruins of the balcony above. Others tumbled down castle walls and rolled across the floor of the marketplace.

"What the hell is that?"

Batarel looked up and shrugged. "Guards, I suspect."

A bloody, chainmail-clad torso took out a wizard, and Rabishu shielded. Other wizards followed her lead.

Eranos was too weak, though. He had lost a lot of blood and was having trouble concentrating. He stumbled over to Rabishu, his protector.

The apparations above grew more frequent, and the crowd dispersed as dangerous, falling zinanbar began appearing all around them. Eranos felt Rabishu's shield covering his body, but he still winced as the body parts bounced off the barrier above him.

This can't be happening.

"Guards!" Eranos yelled, but there was no response. Where were they?

Apparations continued all around them and escalated in frequency. It was like a fireworks display building to a grand finale. Eranos continued to wince, but he became mesmerized by the streaks of blood coursing down Rabishu's barrier. He found himself looking up through the protective bubble at the blue sky above. And then, high above him, a tiny black dot appeared.

"What the hell is that?" Rabishu asked.

Batarel backed away from the platform. "I would advise you to move from the platform, Your Highness."

"What is that thing?"

"Just move, sir."

Around them, the courtyard was empty except for the wizards, new royalty, and hundreds of dismembered bodies. The black dot grew bigger.

"You have maybe twenty seconds," Batarel said.

Rabishu pulled Eranos clear of the platform as bits of flesh continued to rain down. Wizards ran from the dais, turned, and readied their most powerful spells. Whatever was coming at them, Eranos was sure they would be ready.

The dark object struck the earth like a meteorite, and the shockwave knocked everyone off their feet. Eranos waved his remaining hand in front of his face as the dust settled, but Rabishu took the hand and helped him to his feet. She pulled him with her closer to the debris cloud, and he watched as she magically cleared the bad air.

Crumpled chains came into view. Then mangled bars and a broken lock. Adrenaline pumped through Eranos's body, and he came to life. He picked up the lock and threw it at one of wizards. He shook the remnants of the cage, screamed at Rabishu, and then he cursed at Batarel. But none of it did any good.

He had lost his left arm and his brother, who doubled as his most devious adviser. The bodies of Ostat and Olivia were gone, his own people appeared to be behind it, and Lucifer, the Crown Prince, had escaped.
Chapter 11

The Lesser of Three Evils

Lucifer and Sariel sat in a pocket vortex situated between Chaos, Order, and the Goblin Realm. The violent interaction of the universes created a time phenomenon here that Lucifer intended to take advantage of for as long as necessary.

"Play it again."

"Again?" Sariel complained. "We've been watching these orbs for months. Listen, I picked up some others. Look, how about this one? _Sera Does Darshiva_. This is the one where she is getting mauled by like five demons. Can you believe a ten-winger went into porn?"

Lucifer scowled at him.

"Lucifer, we've seriously watched every one of these thousands of times. What are we looking for?"

Nothing. He was just stalling the inevitable, and there was no better place to waste time than in a time pocket where a year was the equivalent of maybe a week in Chaos. There were three options in front of him, and each of them required going into enemy territory. Michael and Jehovah were attacking Chaos with a death ray. Eranos was probably making an example of low-ranking Kadingir clan members in Alurabum. And then there was an older enemy—one that might be just as hostile, given their recent history.

Torrents of raw energy licked at his body. They had long ago consumed all of his clothing. "Maybe it is time we moved on."

Sariel squinted at him. "Moved on to what?"

"I was thinking of a where, actually."

Lucifer smiled at his brother. He knew Sariel would love the suggestion, for he had spent several years in Arnessa with his best friend while Lucifer was in military training to become the next Grand Commander.

"No way."

Lucifer laughed. "Don't expect a warm welcome, though. We killed his father."

"I didn't kill Veldin. He was like a second dad to me. Do you know how many times he personally came to a bar and picked us up? How many brothel doors he had to break down at two in the morning?"

"Have you tried talking to Elandril since he left for the celestial forges? Do you even know if he ever finished his training? I can't imagine him in blue fiery skin, can you?"

"If he really went through with it, I'll freak out..."

"So would a lot of ladies in Chaos..."

Lucifer remembered the golden days of their friendship. Elandril was the first goblin prince to ever enter Chaos. Everyone was so accustomed to seeing the goblin forgewrights, the ones with the melted skin from forging low quality zinanbar blades close to a sun, or celestial forgewrights who worked in the center of stars and literally had no skin, exposing an extremely bright, ethereal blue form. So, no one knew what to expect with Elandril, but past experience with goblins meant that everyone was expecting something ugly and maybe even grotesque.

Now, Lucifer was a handsome demon, and he knew it. Sariel too was just as cocky about his appearance. But Elandril and his blond hair, blue eyes, and stacked six-foot frame was flat out beautiful, and he'd taken the Courts by storm during his two decades there. No diplomat's daughter was safe. No princess was off limits. He acted just like Lucifer and Sariel. He just wasn't a demon.

Though Lucifer and Elandril were always close, Sariel and Elandril were best friends and completely inseparable. They ate at the same cafes and restaurants every day. They swapped dates. They wore themed costumes to parties, and they were a riot together, but those were far more innocent times.

"What are we going to wear?" Sariel asked.

"You are such a girl."

"Shut up, man!" Sariel said. "I'm serious. I can't return to my stomping grounds naked."

"You do realize that you still have those pictures hanging up in your room, right?"

"Point taken," Sariel laughed. "But that was a festival—a very naked festival."

"Do you think it's still going on right now?"

Sariel grew somber. "I wouldn't know. When we left Arnessa last time, the whole place was dead. The Council was hunting down the goblin royalty, and we were hiding all those goblins under the embassy, remember?"

"Yeah."

"You really think Eranos started the war?"

"Do you really think our father wanted to invade them?" Lucifer asked. "We accepted Elandril into our house to build an alliance with the goblins. Father told me so, both before and after the war. But there were all those assassinations in Alurabum, and Elandril had left for the celestial forges to pursue his dream. After the goblin emissary was killed, there was simply no one else to even ask for clarification, and since magic was used in many of the murders, the Council sort of took over in the decision-making. It snowballed out of control from there."

"Always seemed too tidy for me."

"Which is why I really do think Eranos started this mess. I mean, we've got orbs that show Veldin's assassination, and we've got orbs that show some of the debates in the High Council, including his requests for a complete primal pattern wipe. It should be enough to get us into the goblin palace, at the very least. I just wish I understood why he did it."

"I'll keep looking."

Lucifer stood up, stretched, and swatted at the tornados that tried to groom him from the walls of the vortex. "We need to look presentable."

"Suits?"

"Definitely."

"I know a guy in Alurabum. He'll be discreet."

"Think you can apparate there and back and...?"

Sariel didn't even say goodbye. He just vanished. Lucifer chuckled, extended his wings, and pushed through the vortex. Ice formed around his body from the coldness of space. Even at faster than light speeds, it would take him months to get to Arnessa. As he propelled himself with nearby free-floating asteroids, faster and faster toward the speed of light, he tried not to think of the events in the courtyard.

But despite his best efforts, his mother's green eyes found him anyway. His father's gray ones, too, would watch Lucifer as the gruesome head rolled around on the ground, and his mouth would form those same words that Lucifer knew his father hadn't ever actually said.

Put it down, son. Put it down.
Chapter 12

The Goblin Realm

Lucifer touched down on a planet within the same system as Arnessa but farther out and much, much colder. He rubbed his naked shoulders to regain some warmth, but at minus 350 degrees Fahrenheit, heating up was an exercise in futility.

He still hadn't heard from Sariel, which was pretty ridiculous seeing as how Sariel could apparate almost anywhere in the cosmos within a month. Lucifer, on the other hand, had to rely on his wings—which was like mounting a turtle in comparison.

Overhead a line of spaceships zoomed by, and Lucifer pressed against a frozen rock formation and immediately regretted it. His hands stuck to the surface, and the only way to get mobile again was to rip part of the rock away and take it with him. He shook his hands mightily, but nothing would come off. He looked toward the sun at the center of the solar system and prepared to launch again. He couldn't meet Elandril with rocks for hands.

"Where are you going?"

"Damn it, Sariel," Lucifer complained, turning around to find his brother was already in a black suit with gray pinstripes. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"In my defense, you look more like a comet than my brother..."

"Mind giving me some heat? I'm fr... f... frrreezing over here."

"Well, I don't think we want to open up too big a channel to the primal unless you want them to know that we are already here..."

"I think a space convoy might have spotted me anyway."

Sariel shrugged and reached beside him like he would go into his pants pocket, but then slowly opened his hands. A beam of pure chaos burst forth from his outstretched palms within a few feet of Lucifer. They both avoided touching it. Like zinanbar, it had the power to destroy an immortal.

Lucifer smiled as the warmth began to reach him through his crackling tomb. Within minutes, he was completely free.

"Where's my suit?" Lucifer asked as he used some of the ice and water to scrub the impurities from his skin.

"What suit?" Sariel said with a straight face.

Lucifer summoned both of his six foot zinanbar blades and stared at him. Now was not the time for this game. He had been naked for four months.

Sariel made a throwing motion and a clothes hanger with a matching black-and-gray suit apparated in mid arc. Lucifer dismissed his swords, caught the clothing and tore the plastic away. Shoes, underwear, and socks made their separate arcs to him, and Lucifer dressed while his brother gave him a rundown of what he had found.

"I found it."

"Found what?"

"The reason."

"For the war?"

"Yeah."

Sariel didn't elaborate further. He just kicked some rocks around.

"Well, don't be shy," Lucifer said as he buttoned his collar and pushed his wings through the eight holes in the back of the jacket. "What are we dealing with here? Will it give us leverage?"

"You remember when Elandril told us he was leaving to become a celestial forgewright and was renouncing his claim to the goblin throne?"

"Yeah."

"Guess whose idea that was?"

"Are you serious? Why would Elandril have listened to Eranos?"

"You remember Eranos's oldest daughter?"

Lucifer stopped putting on his socks and thought hard. "No... wait..." A face materialized in his memory. Brown hair. Pretty smile. He remembered that they had slept together over a million years ago. Nothing serious. Just passing the time, all part of the politics of the system. "Yeah, Nina right? What happened to her?"

"She fell in love with the wrong man."

Lucifer shrugged. "I'm not following."

"A goblin man."

"No crap? And that _evil_ goblin Elandril didn't accept her, I guess? That's why Eranos was pissed?"

"Elandril renounced his throne for her. That's why he left. Eranos told him that no goblin prince would ever marry his favorite daughter."

"So, he left and Eranos hid her away?"

Sariel kicked a nearby ice formation so hard that it shattered the base and collapsed three stories of jagged, arctic rock to the permafrost. "No, he didn't hide her away. Turns out she was pregnant. He killed her."

"Nina? His oldest daughter?"

"There's an orb. I've stored it within a pocket in the primal pattern, but we're not going to use it unless we have to. If Elandril is flexible and takes our word for it, we don't show him. You understand?"

Lucifer grimaced and then relaxed. Sariel wasn't usually this serious, and he certainly wasn't one to bark orders. He was more of the not-going-to-follow-orders type.

"You all right, man?"

Sariel put his hands in his pockets and cast his eyes downward. "I've just seen a lot of things I didn't want to see. We were duped into that war, Lucifer. We killed millions of goblins and a surrogate father because some douchebag didn't want to have a half-goblin grandson."

"I don't need more reasons to kill the guy."

"Let's just get moving. The more I think about Nina and our parents, the more restless I get. We should have killed Eranos before we left."

"Hindsight, brother. Did they extend the anti-apparation barrier?"

Sariel grumbled. "Alurabum is off limits to me now, except for the Council, and Eranos doesn't go there anymore." His wings unfurled from his suit.

Lucifer put an arm around him. "We'll get the bastard."

Sariel nodded and closed his eyes. "Let's go see Elandril."

Ice reformed on their faces as they pushed themselves out of the cold planet's atmosphere and into the vacuum of space. As they flew closer to Arnessa, the space stations and skyscrapers grew larger, the trees and lakes came into view, and hundreds of thousands of spaceships cruised past them. Surprised faces attached to slightly elongated ears peered back at them through thick acrylic glass. Some of the children made funny faces.

Lucifer chuckled noiselessly at the kids as he pushed his tendrils into uninhabited forests and oceans and slowed his descent. He marveled at the way the goblins immersed their technology, tall buildings, and industry into the forests and maintained a homeostasis over the ages. Demons had deforested all of Alurabum before they had even written their first recorded histories, or maybe the libraries describing those forests had been burned during a war millions of years ago.

Sariel joined him in a slow descent into the atmosphere and the warmer air melted the ice from their bodies and dried their suits. Space elevators filled with cargo zipped past them on thin carbon fibers toward floating merchant platforms. More goblin faces peered at them through the top floors of the tallest buildings Lucifer had ever seen. Coliseums with displays big enough to see from space popped up sporadically, and he found himself trying to make out the letters and images flickering across them.

The screeching vehicle horns and grating and clanking construction noises of civilizations in Chaos or on Earth were greatly subdued here and instead came in the form of a constant hum and cheers from the stadiums. The flying cars and cargo vessels were quiet as motorized fans, and the animated billboards covering hundreds of floors were not so much bright and distracting as they were accentuating of the various architectures. Some of the advertisements even seemed to involve actors inside the tall glass buildings, hundred-story Victorian homes, and artistic sculptures. But everywhere Lucifer looked, there were forests, lakes, parks, and the sounds of commerce, industry, and laughter.

Highways without asphalt stretched as far as the eye could see, and dedicated shipping lanes paralleled and intersected without collisions. As he marveled at automated vehicles avoiding each other in close proximity to crisscrossing pathways, a few ships dipped out of the shipping lanes and hovered beside them. Were they greeting the returning demons? Were they relaying information to the planet surface and requesting permission to fire? Lucifer couldn't be sure of their intentions or thoughts, but he could be sure of one thing: the Goblin Realm had risen from the ashes of its terrible war with Chaos.

***

The admissions area of the Arnessa palace was crowded, and Sariel's eyes darted around the room. It was surreal to see so many goblins moving about the capital. The last time he had been here, women were being raped in the street without resisting. Men were watching their families butchered without batting an eye. Apathy and melancholy seemed everywhere after King Veldin's death, and the goblins simply stopped fighting back.

You never do that kind of thing around demons. They start thinking you like it.

The Council believed they had killed the Goblin Primal—the very essence of these immortals and the universe it projected. And it wasn't by accident. Eranos had lobbied for the royal assassination because the Council knew that Veldin had been grafted into the primal pattern. For the longest time, Sariel had thought the goblins really were dead. To see them running around, carrying papers, and in most cases not even acknowledging that two well-dressed demon butchers were sitting amongst them was a bit unnerving.

"Mr. Kadingir," a woman with gray hair pulled up into a bun called from the front desk. "A representative will see you in the main stateroom. Please, follow me."

Sariel guessed she was more than thirty million years old, but she carried herself well. She grabbed the ornate metal handles of a set of double doors and pulled them apart. Inside was an oval room with elaborate furnishings of brown, gold, green, and blue. Polished woods and intricately patterned cushions and rugs lay beside hand-sculpted marble and granite statesmen. Sariel and Elandril had staged mock duels in this room long ago. The goblins had completely restored it.

"Thank you," Sariel bowed to her.

"No, thank you," she said. "I was under the embassy, and you saved me from being brutally assaulted by your drunken demons."

Sariel bit his lip. "I... Words just can't express..."

"Then don't try to," she said. "The representative will be with you shortly. Good luck."

She closed the doors behind her and left. Sariel finally let out his breath.

"What do you think?" Lucifer asked.

"The goblins love mind games," Sariel said. "Stay on your toes."

They sat down on opposite couches and crossed their legs. Sariel gazed at a plushy couch that sat in front of the lit fireplace. The flames danced above the upholstery, and he found himself lost in thought.

He pictured Elandril in his mind. The blond hair, blue eyes, and smirk. The longer he stared at the couch, the more solid the image became in his mind. And then, it didn't seem to be just an image anymore. It seemed real.

Elandril sat in front of him, levitating a ball of swirling chaos in one hand. He rolled it around his fingers, tossed it into his other hand and massaged it. This couldn't have been real. The concentrated energy should have torn him apart. Then the goblin image swallowed the ball of chaos. Sariel looked away from the mirage.

"I'll be damned," Lucifer said. "You scared the hell out of me!"

Sariel looked up to see the doppelganger still sitting on the couch, smiling.

"You see it too?" Sariel asked.

"It? That's Elandril!"

Elandril stood up and summoned two zinanbar blades that were identical to his own. They had ordered both sets together. They had done everything together. Elandril spun them about his hands and then rolled one of them down his biceps and forearms.

"Brother," the goblin said, "have they taught you how to fight yet?"

"Oh, you sonuvabitch!" Sariel said as he jumped off of the couch and summoned his daggers. "You're so dead!"

Elandril laughed and lunged at Sariel's heart. Sariel batted the stab away and pushed him over the couch, but his opponent reappeared right in front of him.

"Apparating?" Sariel complained. "Totally unfair!"

"Poor thing," Elandril mocked.

Sariel apparated beside him, but Elandril blinked away. He continued to pursue his old friend around the room, under tables, behind cabinets, and even into the fireplace.

"You two leave me the hell out of this," Lucifer said. "I want nothing to do with destroying the royal furniture."

"Well, I guess things have changed then," Elandril said as he appeared right in front of Lucifer, daggers locked with Sariel. "You'll have to forgive my manners, Lucy. I forgot to introduce your partner, Ganymede."

Sariel's eyebrows raised as the seven-foot-tall, red-bearded goblin appeared behind his brother, and that might have been what saved Lucifer's life. The massive broadsword swung down and missed Lucifer by inches as he rolled clear. The blade slid through the couch cushions and wood frame like they were butter. Sparks launched into some of the cushions and stone chips flew into Sariel's hair and mouth.

By the time Lucifer was done rolling, he had summoned his own two swords and appeared ready to take on his opponent.

"Lucifer," Elandril said, still locked with Sariel, "this is Ganymede, son of Gendril—the man you killed at Falkirk."

Sariel laughed. He couldn't help it. Goblins and their mind games. Lucifer had offered a duel with Gendril instead of a pitched battle. Probably saved hundreds of thousands of lives. Lucifer's face clearly showed his panic.

Ganymede bowed and smiled. "I've heard so much about you."

"I'm... sorry?"

"Apology accepted," Ganymede said as he lunged at Lucifer. The goblin was at least a foot taller than his brother, and all muscle. Lucifer would have his hands full.

"Are you done with your introductions?" Sariel asked.

"Quite."

"Good."

He kicked his opponent in the chest, and Elandril disappeared again. He reappeared long enough to push Lucifer in the back, which almost cost him a hand.

"Hey, you stay your happy butt over there," Lucifer shouted.

Elandril made a face at Sariel and mocked Lucifer's parrying.

"Sariel? Some help here?" Lucifer asked.

Sariel had been too busy laughing to respond. His opponent apparated behind him and kicked him in the back.

Grumbling, Sariel turned around and threw one of his daggers, barely missing Elandril's head.

"Hey, no throws!"

"Wait, there are rules?"

"Of course."

"And it's your house so..."

"House rules, yeah," Elandril smiled as he picked up the dagger and threw it back to Sariel.

Lucifer and Ganymede lumbered between them with the demon pushing the assault this time. For a big ol' brute, Ganymede was sure quick on his feet.

Lucifer cut through an antique lamp and table and Ganymede deflected a slash into a painting. Sariel and Elandril locked blades once more and pushed each other over a couch and onto the floor. They punched each other repeatedly in the stomach with their dagger handles until they heard a loud, dry voice from the doorway.

"Ahem," the man said simply.

Sariel helped Elandril to his feet and laughed at the expressions of the dozen finely dressed men and women. Some of them wore monocles and all of them wore fine suits, each of which was of much better quality than Sariel's ripped one. Their mouths were agape, and some of the women were tittering to each other, loudly and obnoxiously scoffing at them.

"Your two o'clock, Galto?" Elandril asked with a sober face.

"This is the trade delegation from Uldram, sir. Very important meeting."

"I'm sure," Elandril nodded. "Well, I think we're quite done with the stateroom at this point."

The rest of the fighters agreed as one half of a painting fell to the floor, and servants entered the room with buckets of water to put out fires on the cushions and drapes.

"Shall we adjourn for a cocktail?" Elandril asked.

"Very well, old chap!" Sariel agreed. He pierced what was left of his hanging breast pocket with a dagger to make a show of putting his blade away and marched out of the room, followed by Elandril, Ganymede, and Lucifer. Just past the trade delegation were two dozen color-coordinated servants. The blue ones edged themselves into position behind Elandril as he took over lead of the procession, and the green ones nudged Sariel and his brother aside to follow Ganymede.

***

Lucifer massaged his shoulder as he walked behind Ganymede's entourage. With the history they shared, he felt Ganymede was the person to particularly keep an eye on. Sariel walked next to Elandril far ahead and jabbered to his friend like they hadn't spent the last million years apart. Elandril appeared to listen, nod, and reply, but he was guarded. Lucifer couldn't blame him.

He looked around and waited for the next surprise. As Sariel had said, the goblins were into mind games, and Lucifer's instincts told him that the game had only just begun.

They turned down corridor after corridor, and Lucifer noticed something odd about the escort. Every now and again the goblins would turn in the same direction at once, and it wasn't just when they were rounding a corner. There would be a noise or a painting on the wall, and a dozen heads would swivel at the same time.

He wondered if they had ear pieces and were communicating with each other. Goblins loved their little gadgets.

He thought less about the odd coordinated movements as they got closer to the throne room. Perhaps he should signal Sariel to get the viewing orbs ready. He quickened his pace and moved between the two columns, but grew uneasy again as the goblins turned toward him in unison. When he looked at them, they averted their eyes, and he could feel the other column's gaze grow more concentrated.

Instead of heading toward the throne room, Elandril pivoted smoothly and walked down an old corridor. Unlike the rest of the castle, this area hadn't been renovated with viewscreens and modern sculptures. Instead, the walls were of brick and mortar, and the artworks looked like they were from eons ago. Lucifer noticed that none of the plants in vases or flower pots were alive. They were dried and shriveled, but their roots had overgrown the containers long ago. He kicked at one of the roots and watched as it disintegrated into the air.

"Why hasn't anyone watered these?" he asked one of the blue-liveried goblins behind Elandril.

"This is the Corridor of Tears," the goblin said. "The servants aren't allowed to touch anything in this section of the palace."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

All of the blue-and-black dressed goblins smirked at him. Lucifer looked to the front of the pack and saw Elandril smiling too. Perhaps he had found something Sariel said humorous.

"Where are we going?" Lucifer asked.

"To another room," Elandril said. "One where there is plenty of old furniture to destroy and no chance of interruptions by pesky nobles."

The Goblin Prince stopped at a door, pushed it open, and bowed to the rest of the group. Lucifer peeked inside the room but was greeted by nothing but pitch black.

"After you," Elandril said, head lowered, and still grinning.

The princes and the goblin entourage filed into the musty dark. Lucifer could hear the servants shuffling along the back of the room, but it was too dark to discern what might be impeding his path, so he groped around blindly as he moved forward. For several seconds, he grasped at air until his hands found a wooden column.

Light erupted beside him, and he saw Elandril's face illuminated by seven perfectly round, blue orbs which the goblin sent to candle holders positioned around the chamber. As Lucifer's eyes adjusted to the luminescence he realized he was holding a bedpost, and the bed was not empty. In it lay an old goblin, face shrunken with what must have been impossibly old age.

Lucifer looked to Elandril for clues about whether or not he should move closer, but the goblin did not return the stare. Instead, Elandril watched the old creature in the bed. With the two goblins so close to each other, Lucifer almost immediately noticed a family resemblance. Elandril and this slumbering goblin each had the same jawline.

"He's not sleeping," Elandril said. "This is King Veldin, my father. He hasn't been moved since the servants brought him here, shortly after your assassin took him from us."

Lucifer watched Sariel back away from the bed with his mouth agape and eventually bump into some of Ganymede's retainers. Lucifer, however, stepped forward. Behind him, Elandril's servants jockeyed for position as they undoubtedly watched his every move.

He could see the blood that had seeped through the covers from the King's chest wounds. Lucifer moved to the King's side and gazed into his sunken eyes and gnarled features.

Veldin's demise reminded Lucifer of his own father's death only a few months ago. In his mind's eye, the blood-stained sheets turned into blood-spattered stones in a mob-filled courtyard, and he envisioned Eranos stalking the Goblin King around the palace as the old man ventured into the corridors unaware.

"We are each of us orphans now," Lucifer said, as he picked up the King's hand—a hand that hadn't held life for a million years. "For my part in your demise, Great King, I apologize."

Lucifer brought the King's hand to his lips and kissed it. "I'm sorry."

Elandril moved closer to the bed from the opposite side and eyed Lucifer intently. The right corner of his mouth twitched, and he was obviously struggling with what to say. Lucifer found comfort in this. Whatever game Elandril had expected, he didn't appear to be prepared for Lucifer's sincere emotions. As he resumed bowing his head to look at the wasted form of Veldin, Elandril finally found his voice.

"A part of me wants to believe both of you. After so many years of us sharing beds, laughs, and even lovers, I have never forgotten our old times—just as you both probably haven't. While I was going through my training in the stars, conditioning my body to become a celestial forgewright, I got myself through many of those tortuous years by laughing until I cried, despite the pain, while remembering much of our time together."

Lucifer smiled widely and looked to his left again. Elandril's smile was genuine but far less open than Lucifer's. The Goblin Prince had more to say. Elandril's smile lessened and Lucifer wanted to look away from his old friend, but he stopped himself. He knew that Elandril wanted to watch his face for a reaction.

Old friends or not, the Kadingir brothers were in danger, but despite Lucifer's instincts to check the positions of the goblin retainers, he looked directly into Elandril's eyes. The first mind game in the state room had focused on brawn; this one focused on something else. Maybe emotions, maybe wits, or maybe this test was completely improvised. Lucifer centered himself and waited for the onslaught.

"And when I came back to my homeland," Elandril continued, "from years of burning my skin off and honing a craft of honest labor, I realized that my world had been turned upside down. I returned to a land without voice, life, or joy. They told me that my home had been assaulted by my old brothers. Then they told me that my father has been murdered by agents of these same friends, the memory of whom had made the sight, sound, and smell of searing my flesh from my soul seem less scary... less painful... less intense."

"We were all led astray by Eranos and the Council," Lucifer said. "You and Nina thought her father would let you lead a normal life together, and Eranos convinced all of Chaos that the assassinations in Alurabum were the work of goblin agents."

"You know about Nina?" Elandril asked, turning toward Sariel, who nodded back.

"She's dead," Sariel said. "Killed by her father for being pregnant."

Elandril's hands shook momentarily, and he grabbed a bedpost. He didn't appear to be breathing. After exhaling quickly, he continued his earlier train of thought.

"I was thrust back into the capital—into a life that I thought I had given up with my forgewright training. My younger sisters, the heirs apparent after my abdication, had been stolen from our lands, and their fates were hidden from us for many years."

This was news to Lucifer. He knew Elandril had sisters, but he assumed they had gotten out of the capital on their own accord. There were certainly no military records of them being captured. He looked toward Sariel, who shrugged. Apparently, he didn't know either.

"At least that's something," Elandril closed his eyes, exhaled, and then looked at Ganymede. "So, my old friends were unaware of the kidnapping of my sisters. I'm not sure if that helps or hinders your case. You may be surprised to discover that your uncle Batarel, of the Council of Wizards, is the demon that took them. He killed their defenseless servants and then took my sisters."

"Batarel?" Sariel asked as he slumped to the floor. "Are you sure?"

Elandril nodded simultaneously with some of the servants around the room.

"I'm sorry," Sariel bowed his head. "We had been ordered to kill the goblin royal family."

"He didn't kill them," Elandril replied.

Sariel looked up at Elandril. "He didn't kill them? How do you know?"

Elandril didn't answer.

"Oracles?"

"Oracles," Elandril said in a low voice as he turned to Ganymede. "How curious of you to mention them. You hear that, Ganymede? Maybe the oracles told us!"

Ganymede didn't smile. He looked at Sariel with a sickened grimace. He cleared his throat to respond.

"Batarel blinded young Persephone, and left her with one of our convents. She was the elder of the twins, but now she is unfit to become that which she was meant to be. The women of the convent agreed to take her in and teach her divination—the art of looking into the pattern to glimpse what has been and what will become."

"There is some consolation that she took so easily to her new trade," Elandril said.

"First time in recorded history that an oracle has been indoctrinated so late and survived the trials. Most go mad."

"And so, we have come to believe that Batarel knew something that we didn't."

Lucifer knew his uncle engaged in deadly games of politics, but he had never known Batarel to directly defy a Council order. Whatever the old man had been thinking, it appeared that Elandril didn't find it too offensive.

"What of the other sister?" he asked.

"Good question," Elandril said.

Lucifer nodded in understanding. So, Elandril didn't know where his sister was. Perhaps this was something that Lucifer could remedy now that he knew she was gone. "I cannot speak for my uncle, but I will find out what happened to your sister, Elandril, and if she is alive, I will bring her back to you."

"No," Elandril strode across the floor and laid a hand on Lucifer's shoulder. "She will come back of her own accord."

Lucifer looked at the hand and smiled, and Elandril returned the gesture.

"I have wanted to hate you for a long time," Elandril admitted. "I have looked through the libraries and watched your deeds from afar through our gadgets and agents, but the more I've looked, the harder it has been to hate your clan."

"You fought admirably," Ganymede agreed.

"I killed your father!" Lucifer said.

Ganymede didn't immediately reply. He wiped at the corners of his eyes as some of his servants rested their arms on his shoulders. "Yes, but you saved tens of thousands of other fathers with that duel. I cannot hate you for my father's death. Without that duel, I could have lost my brothers as well, but thanks to your offer, they still breathe. My father could have died a worse death."

Lucifer breathed a sigh of relief.

Elandril removed his hand from Lucifer and turned his back to him. "And it appears that your uncle saved both my siblings and my universe from the Council."

"Your universe?"

"The Great War was just an excuse for the Council to assassinate a pattern."

Lucifer watched his brother shrivel up into a ball. Sariel would understand better than him.

Elandril perked up as he watched the reaction. "Don't worry," he said. "I couldn't possibly hold a grudge against you and the Council anymore. The Great War has had the opposite effect on us. We have been revitalized and rebuilt, as I'm sure you've noticed."

He walked around the room and wiped some of the thick dust off a book shelf. "The pattern assassination showed us a weakness. My father's death would have been the death of the Goblin Realm had Batarel not hidden my sisters."

"But you were alive, too," Lucifer said.

"I was busy burning away all of my skin and organs," Elandril said. "The Council knew what they were doing."

"I'm not following you."

"I wasn't entirely alive at that point, so I wasn't a part of the bloodline."

"And the bloodline is important to your universe?"

Elandril laughed. "I don't trust you that much, yet."

Lucifer motioned toward Sariel. It was time for the orbs. As Sariel rummaged in the primal for the viewers, Lucifer watched the goblins turn in unison toward his brother. The way they sometimes moved together was still creeping him out.

"Nina or your father?" Lucifer asked.

"I'd rather not be reminded of my foolish youth," Elandril said, "and how my presence in your realm almost caused my entire universe to implode."

Lucifer expanded his question. "Her death or his?"

Elandril's blond eyebrows rose, and his eyes widened. Perfect question.

The Goblin Prince folded his arms, and so did the blue-and-black attired goblins around him. "If you want these negotiations to go any further, I believe you're going to have to part with both."

"Best to start from the beginning then," Lucifer said as his brother tossed an orb labeled Nina into the air. It spun round and emitted a mist that formed a screen in between Sariel and the others.

There wasn't any sound on this one. Nina was yelling at her father, and Eranos was staring back at her. They appeared to be within a large, black stone house, probably their familial home a few light years outside of Alurabum.

She was asserting herself. Even without the sound, Lucifer could make out many of the words. _Keeping it..._ _Arnessa..._

Elandril let out a soft groan as the scene unfolded.

On the screen, Nina stormed out of the room after threatening to pack her things. The orb stayed in the room with Eranos and watched as he summoned a zinanbar sword. He chopped his ancient wooden desk in two and tore into bookshelves. He drove his blade into the fireplace and caved it in. His red wings broke through his skin and knocked holes in the walls and floor.

As Lucifer watched the display, he was reminded of his time spent under the Courts of Chaos before his father's execution. The same rage. The same red wings.

Nina appeared on the viewer with two bags in her hands and four in her tendrils. She rushed into the room, dropped a bag, and pointed at Eranos. The damage to the room didn't appear to register with her, or maybe she didn't care. She might have thought her father was just being dramatic.

And then Eranos turned, and she faltered. She saw the overturned tables and the remnants of the family desk. She fought against his wings as they grabbed her around the stomach and squeezed. Despite the lack of audio, Lucifer could easily read her lips. _My baby..._

Eranos pulled her to him and tears drained into her open mouth. A zinanbar blade protruded through her back, and Eranos's hand was at the other end of it. He pushed it farther into her, and she spat blood into his face. _Curse you, Daddy_...

As the screen flickered, Elandril and his followers were in tears. "Now, I remember why I was willing to give up my titles."

"She was a good choice," Ganymede said. "Full of life..."

"And a son..."

Ganymede hugged Elandril and patted him on the back.

"Are you ready for the next orb?" Lucifer asked.

"No," Elandril admitted. "No, I'm not. That is enough for now. You've won this round."

"What is the prize?" Lucifer asked, smiling.

"Some information and a chance to plead your case to the people. That other orb will come in handy."

"I'm listening," Lucifer said.

"Your Council came close—too close. Yes, my bloodline is important to our universe, but steps are being taken to harden our pattern against similar attacks. Ganymede here was tasked with leading a full research review into our vulnerabilities, and we've made changes to our primal pattern. These changes should make us stronger, more resilient against attack by your universe."

"And who is leading your universe now?"

"That's complicated, but I am," Elandril said. "I've been elected to the goblin throne."

"I guess it would have been inappropriate to ask for invitations."

"I'll be sure to add you to the list."

"You haven't been crowned yet?"

"All in good time. We've been busy."

Lucifer frowned. What was more important than the coronation of a new king? Elandril appeared to understand his facial expressions.

"What good is crowning another king while we are still vulnerable? Repairs had to be made, and our society had to change. The research review opened our eyes to old pattern magic long considered heretical by both of our universes. Some of these magics we let sink back into the moldy corners of a forgotten library, but others we've incorporated into our society and the very essence of who we are and how we operate."

Lucifer shivered just thinking about the implications. Demons could be killed in Chaos for simply discussing pattern magic. Did the goblins just not care if some random, disenfranchised immortal loosed a supernova into the center of Arnessa? This was one of the more common scenarios taught to Lucifer when he was a child in school.

"What kind of changes?" he asked.

"We realized that putting a single person into the centerpiece of our primal pattern exposed a fatal flaw—a single point of attack."

"So, how does your election fix this problem?"

"I'm no longer one person," Elandril said.

"What?"

"Everyone in our society was tested, and the results were shared publicly. The vote was possibly the most informed political decision ever made in the history of the cosmos."

"What the heck are you talking about?" Sariel said.

Ganymede and his entourage backed out of the room and Elandril and his backers spread out. "It's best to just show you."

Elandril's retainers sprang into action in an elaborate display of synchronized sparring, and he stared into Lucifer's eyes. As Lucifer tried to follow the combination of fighting, stances, and perfectly choreographed somersaults, he hoped that he wasn't missing Elandril's point somewhere in the turns and flips.

The movements of the retainers grew to such a speed that their limbs blurred, and small tendrils of smoke meandered around the room, distracting Lucifer. Goblins did not have wings, so this haze was being caused by something else. Lucifer was almost certain that pattern magic was at play here, even though he had no idea how it worked. The goblins started moving so fast that miniature sonic booms echoed against the walls, mirrors, and furniture.

"Are they clones?" Sariel asked.

"Do I look like a clone?" the retainers said in unison as they locked blades inches from Sariel's face.

They all had different faces, bone structures, heights, and hair. Sariel and Lucifer exchanged puzzled looks.

"I," a goblin stated.

"Am," another goblin beside him continued.

"Elandril," Elandril finished.

Lucifer was speechless.

"Seriously," Sariel said. "Spell it out for us imbeciles. What's going on here?"

"We are one and the same." Elandril's party stated simultaneously, resulting in an almost musical quality as the different pitches of their voices produced chords and harmonies. "I've been elected because, out of all our immortals, I have shown the deepest, most diverse, and most natural ability to gain new members. We communicate instantly through the primal, share our thoughts, sights, and sounds..."

"You really shouldn't be doing this, Elandril," Lucifer said. "We shouldn't know this. Even though I have no idea what is going on at this point. Even though I don't have the slightest clue about how to exploit this, we could still betray you again. As a friend, I beseech you not to tell us anything else."

"Perhaps you might betray me again," the Goblin Prince stated. "But at this point, I don't think your demon clan is the one I have to worry about. I can assure you that similar knowledge will not be shared with the Agalals. Anyway, if I want to give you a decent chance at gaining asylum here, then you'll have to at least understand how our society operates now and in which direction we have evolved."

Lucifer and Sariel nodded and smiled at each other. This was a start to a more official friendship between their exiled government and the Goblin Realm, but Elandril wasn't done talking.

"You may think that asylum is mine to grant you, but it's not," he said. "Your society has not only wronged me and my family, it has also wronged my entire universe, and consequently, you have many goblins to answer to. Until the coronation happens, the Goblin Realm is almost entirely run by plurality vote, and every goblin votes twice: once inside their collective individual, and again in the main elections."

"You're making my head hurt," Lucifer said.

"You need a break, and I have just the thing for you," all of Elandril's members said at once.

"Please," Lucifer complained. "One at a time. Just use the one I've known for most of my life."

"Very well," the blond Elandril said. "You've no doubt seen the coliseums on the way in. They are the home to a new favorite pastime of ours—one that appeals to our new skill sets. I would like to invite you both to today's championship Certamen."

"Championship?" Sariel perked up. "I only need to know one thing... Will there be gambling?"

Elandril and Lucifer shook their heads in accidental unison.

Sariel backed away from his brother. "Elandril hasn't... acquired a new member, has he?"

Lucifer thought about winking at Elandril and taking his brother for a ride, but his mind was just too jostled by the news of distributed beings now inhabiting the Goblin Realm. Instead, he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"This may surprise you, brother, but years before the goblins developed group minds, we all managed to independently agree that you're an idiot."

Sariel laughed and wrapped an arm around Lucifer's shoulder. "Haters gonna hate..."

He almost told Sariel to act his age, but that had never worked in a million years. Pointing out his disappointment only seemed to encourage his brother to irritate Lucifer even more. He mumbled a small protest, and Sariel squeezed a hand against his shoulder.

The simple act gave Lucifer some comfort. The last time he had been at the center of a crowd, his parents had lost their lives. In truth, he was glad to have his brother with him if he had to enter another one, no matter how hard Sariel might try to push his buttons.
Chapter 13

The Certamen

Sariel pushed through a crowd of spectators as he followed behind the individual—the _singulus_ they called them—he had known since he was a young man. "Wait up, Elandril!"

"The longer we take, the harder it will be to get to our seats!" Elandril called back.

Sariel didn't mind taking his time, though. Most of the women in the crowd were naked, save for body paint. Some groups of goblins took longer for him to get through, but not because the crowd was too dense. Sariel was just stopping to talk with the disrobed and excited females. Lucifer grabbed him by the collar and led him to Elandril.

"So many jubilant spectators," Sariel said as he watched several women bouncing and screaming for the collective _globus_ that they were rooting for.

"G-man's going to kick your butt again this year!" a woman yelled at a gold-jerseyed goblin as she brushed past Sariel, rubbing glittery green paint across the front of his suit.

Sariel brushed the glitter off and grinned like an idiot. "Who is G-man?"

"That would be Ganymede," Elandril said. "Odds-on favorite for the championship again. He's got exceptional talent."

A third of the street around them was decked in green. Even makeshift restaurant awnings were unfurled in support of favorite teams, and supporters flocked to the eatery displaying their preferred champion.

Sariel counted the clumps of chattering singuli at a table and yelled ahead. "Well, at least it's easy to tell the different _globi_ apart."

Elandril laughed as he pushed through the crowd. "You assume that each collective globus agrees on who to root for, but you couldn't be further from the truth. Each singulus of the globus may disagree vehemently on a subject—especially when it comes to sports."

"That must make for interesting bar fights: 'Which one of you started this?'; 'Well, that part of me over there did, officer!' "

"You joke," Elandril said as he wedged himself between a group of gold-painted men with a black _R_ painted on their chests. Their dangly bits brushed against Sariel.

He backed away from them into two of Elandril's larger singuli, who were shouldering spectators out of the way to catch up with their lead elements.

"Took me long enough," Elandril joked as his singuli caught up.

Sariel freed himself from his brother's grip and yelled ahead to Elandril. "Can't we just mingle with the locals a bit?"

The King-elect turned around and shook his head. "About that... we need to talk... before you go chatting with girls or speaking in front of a large crowd."

Elandril led Sariel and Lucifer down an alley between a skyscraper and a Victorian home and shooed away a couple of spectators who were smoking irregularly-rolled cigarettes. Their eyes grew wide as they came face-to-face with the leader of their people, and Sariel smiled as they bowed and made apologies while putting out their aromatic papers on a trash can.

"If you want to have any chance of being granted asylum here, you're going to need to be aware of the ground rules."

Sariel turned around to watch as dozens of bouncing, painted breasts passed by the opening between the buildings. "Whatever rules you goblins have, friend, I will gladly follow."

"That's point one, actually. We're not goblins. We never were, and after our reconstruction from our darker days, no one will tolerate you calling us by the derogatory term that Chaos stuck into every contract we ever signed. In the old days, we thought it served as a layer of protection. If your race thought we were ugly and beneath them, then maybe they wouldn't make forays into our universe. But we're past pandering to demons at this point."

Lucifer nodded. "Done. No agreement will ever be drafted with the word _goblin_ in it. You have my word."

"Not just agreements and contracts," Elandril said. "If you address us, you call us elves. This is the Elven Realm. We are elven, and our people are elves or globi and singuli, depending on if they are operating in complete independence."

"How do you do that, by the way?" Sariel asked. "I mean... how do you communicate with the other _singuli_ in your _globus_."

"The same way you apparate, except we use images and sounds through the primal pattern. Not all of us can do it, and we actively test for the ability. The globus requires a great deal of concentration to sort through the vast amount of information, viewpoints, and stimuli."

Sariel's eyebrows raised as he visualized the process. The more surprising part of this pattern method was that it wasn't entirely off-limits to wizards in Chaos. Sariel and his mentor Batarel used it all the time to keep each other informed when they were separated, as they were now. If he and his uncle had tried to form a distributed consciousness, however, they would be in direct violation of numerous laws drafted by the Council of Wizards.

"Do you understand?" Elandril asked. "No more goblins."

"Got it," Lucifer said.

"Second thing you should know is that no one stays in Arnessa for free. You'll be expected to do something. You'll have to work."

"Gross," Sariel said, ramming his finger into his mouth and making gagging noises. "I don't even work in Chaos."

"You kill people in Chaos," Elandril reminded him.

"Yeah, but that's not even work. I enjoy it too much."

"Then find something you enjoy and do that, as long as it contributes to our society."

"Need anyone dead?" Sariel asked hopefully.

Elandril conjured a ball of roaring energy and flung it up into the heavens, where it scattered high above the alley like celestial fireworks. From the direction of the street procession, Sariel could hear collective "oooohs" and "aaaahs" as people watched the pretty lights.

"If I want someone dead," Elandril said. "I do it myself with one of thousands of my singuli."

"Yeah, but sometimes you might not want the murder to be traced back to the elves."

Elandril stroked his smooth chin. "Perhaps."

"I could help train your armies in demon tactics," Lucifer offered. "Please don't take offense. I don't mean that your own elven techniques should be replaced or even complemented with demon ones. I mean that I could provide intimate details of the inner workings of a demon unit—weaknesses and standard maneuvers."

"An interesting skill-set," the King-elect said, "one that I will definitely take you up on, but I am unlikely to divulge such a state secret to a stadium of sports revelers. You two will have to think of something else to convince the crowd."

"Today?" Sariel asked. "That's a bit short notice, don't you think?"

"The Sariel I knew was quick on his feet..."

"Maybe when I'm running from something," Sariel joked.

"Don't impress the crowd, and you might be..."

"Point taken."

"Win the crowd, and you win your asylum here. Lose the crowd, and you may lose your head."

"A familiar homecoming," Lucifer said.

Elandril grasped Lucifer by the shoulder and pulled him close. "All too true, brother. But this particular homecoming is hardly undeserved, I would say. The elven people's angst about demons is not the result of some dark conspiracy against your family, as was the case in Alurabum..."

Sariel started to speak, but he thought better of it. Elandril hadn't seen the other viewing orb yet. His old friend looked at him curiously before continuing.

"The last time you were here it was at the end of a sword. You've done enough to convince me to grease the gears, but you'll still have to operate the machinery yourself."

"That's more than fair," Lucifer said.

"Let's grab our seats before we're forced to tune in from a nearby cafe," Elandril said. His larger singuli forced their way into the street and lined the alley entrance so the group could fold into the procession. The revelers teased and prodded the big men and rubbed glittery bodies and jerseys against them, but the singuli remained stoic, if not for an occasional smile.

"You've still got the orbs, right?" Lucifer asked in a low voice.

"I can't exactly lose them," Sariel said. "They're in the freaking primal."

His brother exhaled deeply. "Any ideas on what we're going to offer the crowd?"

"You mean other than an intimate portrait of their king's assassination?"

"Yeah."

"A crowd loves entertainment," Sariel advised. "We should give them what they want."

"Crash their championship?"

Sariel's lips twitched as his grin grew wider. "Yeah."

***

The hundred-story Coliseum in front of Lucifer was impressive, but its size was nothing compared to the noise it generated. A million voices screamed, chanted, and howled, and the sound was absolutely deafening. Without the ability to communicate with his brother, he focused instead on observing the elves around him.

Elandril's three singuli met up with a dozen more from their royal globus and beckoned Lucifer away from the lines that channeled elves through the front gates and into the stadium. Guards joined and flanked the large party on either side, with the King's largest singulus leading the column of men to the side entrance.

Lucifer watched the elves for flinches or other signs of their secret communication, but they moved flawlessly as individuals. Each singulus had its own mannerisms and missteps and they could hold their own separate conversations without any hiccups or awkwardness. Fascinating.

All around him were painted bodies, smiling faces, and joyous celebrations, but the crowd reminded him of darker times in Alurabum, when a large group of demons demanded his parents' execution. However, this mob was much more appreciative of their king than his own people had been. Lucifer couldn't help but be jealous of the elves and angry at his own demon people, and not just for their willingness to overthrow a patient, wise king.

All around him were skyscrapers, beautiful homes, smiling children, and an entire population that was not afraid to dream big, build immense, and live free. Small girls with adorable, pointed ears ran around the guards, conjuring magical fireworks above their heads and screaming for their favorite teams. Young suitors showed off technological gadgets to their admirers underneath sculpted trees, colorful arches and expansive awnings. The elves were onto something here. Deep down, Lucifer admitted to himself that looking at the elven capital of Arnessa was like peering into a crystal ball of what the future should look like.

If Lucifer could wrestle control back from Eranos, Chaos society would change. Better access to knowledge, less censorship, and a higher standard of living for all immortals—whether they had wings or not. He just had to figure out how to convince the Council that such openness was better for the universe. Wait, why did he have to convince anybody? The proof was right here in the Elven Realm.

As they ducked into the side entrance of the stadium, Lucifer remembered something his brother Michael had told him back on Earth. Jehovah's issues with Chaos lay with the Council, not the Courts. Their stubbornness and oppression of academics drove one of the most brilliant demons in the multiverse to openly attack his birthplace. If someone had told Lucifer a year ago that he would eventually empathize with Jehovah's mindset, he would have laughed at them. But now?

He chuckled at the thought of how heretical his thoughts were, and Elandril smiled along with him. A Chaos prince thinking of allying with not one but two enemies of the universe? If he thought convincing the Council that open discussion and teaching of pattern magic to demons was going to be difficult, he couldn't fathom how he would convince an Eranos-affiliated Council about the importance of foreign allies.

He put his arm around the Elven King as they entered the Coliseum proper, and saw his face on the jumbotron, which floated and rotated around for the crowd to view. Thousands of maelstroms popped into focus as remote viewers tuned in for the royal globus and legendary demon princes. He waved to the crowd and watched as their faces contorted between surprise, outrage, and curiosity amongst their globi and realized, for the first time, the task he had ahead of him in this arena.

The elves weren't the immortals he sought to rule, but he would probably need to win them over just the same. Their technology and understanding of pattern magic might be the keys to saving his universe from Jehovah's wrath and paving the way back to the Alurabum throne room. Besides, if he could convert a stadium of former enemies into friends, he just might have a shot at turning his own people back to his cause.

***

Lucifer turned his body and walked sideways down the aisle, but the elves were so tightly packed into their stadium seats that he still managed to brush against naked arms, hips, and legs poking out from the plushy chairs. Above the path were lush tree foliage and more exposed flesh that rubbed against him wherever he went. On more than one occasion, a travelling vendor pushed him into the seats and onto an elven lap.

Sariel, however, appeared to be stumbling into swarms of elves at every step. "Sorry... my apologies... Was that your breast? Pardon me."

On one particular occasion, they didn't let him go.

"Brother, you go on ahead! They've got me, I'm afraid."

Lucifer pushed his way back to his brother and found him in the arms of about twenty painted female elves. Unlike most of the green and gold-colored spectators, these were pink and purple, and they had obviously taken more time in the application of their body art. Black tattoos lined their faces and accentuated their feminine body parts. They stroked his brother fluidly and with intent.

"Hello, Rosaline," Elandril hailed the elves.

"My King," a red-haired woman who held Sariel in her lap said.

"Lucifer and Sariel," Elandril said, "I'd like you to meet Rosaline. Rosaline runs the finest escort service in all the cosmos. She has offices in each of the major elven cities, and if she had any interest in politics, she would have given me a run for my money."

"One doesn't have to be a politician to have a hand in politics," Rosaline's singulus said.

"So wonderful to have such a talented globus in attendance," Sariel said, smiling.

The girls giggled.

"May we borrow this demon prince?" Elandril asked.

"Only if you promise to return him," Rosaline's singulus said. "Don't be a stranger, now!"

Elandril bowed his head and pulled Sariel back into the aisle, and as Lucifer nodded in recognition, she smiled as he gazed at her. Apparently, she liked to be watched because as he stared at them, the singuli began kissing and touching each other.

"Lucifer!" Elandril called.

"Coming."

He broke from looking at Rosaline and gazed at the center of the Coliseum as he worked toward the top floor behind his brother and Elandril. The floor of the main event area was barren, which was a stark contrast to the mossy, opulent seating and trees that decked everything else.

"So, what is it like?" he yelled ahead.

"What is what like?" Elandril asked.

"The Certamen. The games."

"It's just one game, and it's fantastic. You'll see. Each globus is allowed ten members in the maze."

"What maze?"

"It will be in the center. Anyway, each globus can enter ten of its members, and the competitors use stun sticks to incapacitate each other. The surviving globus wins."

"Where do we place bets?" Sariel asked.

"Seriously? You've never even seen it played before."

"I don't need to. Where is a bookie? All I need to know are the odds."

Elandril led them to a vendor, who took Sariel's bet of zinanbar on Ganymede, the heavy favorite.

As the bookie was handing him his ticket, Lucifer heard a roaring sound from the center of the Coliseum. "What the hell?"

An earthen structure was rising through the ground. The jumbotron circled around the erecting, humongous series of pathways and displayed a five minute timer. The countdown was on.

Elandril pulled Sariel behind him and rushed through the aisles.

"Where are we going?" Lucifer yelled ahead over the screaming crowd.

Elandril pointed toward an extended platform that arched over the other floors of the stadium. Lucifer pushed his wings through the back of his suit and launched himself above thousands of spectators who cheered and gasped as a shadow passed over them. He grabbed Elandril and started to grab Sariel, but his brother gave him a disappointed look before apparating next to him on the balcony.

Underneath, the rising mountain greeted them, and Lucifer could see green lines tracing around the mound. As the earthen dome came closer, he could see that the lines were actually very tall, thick hedges and shrubbery.

"It takes two thousand years to grow that kind of hedge," Elandril said. "They keep the matches interesting."

"Unless someone takes the higher ground," Sariel said.

"Higher ground has its advantages, but it has nothing to do with line-of-sight. Those plants are two stories tall, and too thick to peer through. You're just as blind above as you are below."

The jumbotron showed a minute and a half and counting.

"So they just go around the maze?" Sariel asked. "Why don't they apparate?"

"It's against the rules," Elandril said.

"I thought you guys had freed yourselves from archaic rules. Wouldn't that make it more interesting?"

"I mean that the rules of nature don't allow us to apparate as a globus. It breaks the links that bind us across the pattern."

"Oh," Sariel said, appearing to understand. Lucifer, however, was completely puzzled.

Far below them, groups of elves appeared at the entrances to the maze, and an announcer bellowed across the stadium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the finale of the games. The Great Certamen is upon us. From thousands of globi, ten champions have fought their way to the top and earned their places in our collective memory. Tonight, one of these contestants will bask in eternal glory!"

"Which one is Ganymede?" Sariel asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Green one. Directly underneath us."

From this height it was hard to discern the colors, so Lucifer watched some of the floating screens instead. In front of him was the hulking singulus that he had fought in the stateroom. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the rest of the globus members were at least a foot shorter, more like his own height.

"Will it be the two-time champion Rorschaz?"

All screens focused on the gold-clad globus at the opposite end of the stadium. Rorschaz waved to the fans and smiled at the chorus of boos and cheers that hailed him. The screens then split between eight different competitors.

"Or will it be the first championship for Daniel, Shep, or Sellys and the five teams that upended Callisto, last year's third place contestant?"

The crowd cheered and heckled but not as loud as they had for Rorschaz.

"Or will this be five in a row for the reigning champion, Ganymede?"

The platform under Lucifer shook as millions of feet stomped the aisles around the stadium and hands banged against the hollow tree trunks.

"Perhaps, I should have bet on him, too," Lucifer said. "He certainly seems to be the crowd favorite."

"People love a winner," Elandril said. "But Sellys and the other five teams that beat Callisto in the semifinals are skirting the edge of the game rules. They've allied into a sort of super globus. When they start losing, they push to Sellys so he has ten members throughout the match."

"And that's legal?"

"It is this year but not likely to be next year."

"Clever bastard!"

Lucifer elbowed his brother discreetly. "At least they don't appear to fret much about rule breaking."

"That will come in handy," Sariel smiled.

They were interrupted by the announcer. "Let the games begin!"

Far below, the ten globi filed into the maze from their respective corners and worked their way up the mountain.

"Does it matter if they reach the top?" Sariel asked.

"No, but that's almost always where the champion gets decided."

"It is the most dramatic place to stage a final battle," Lucifer said. "Makes for the best show."

Elandril nodded and leaned against the balustrade that separated them from a very long fall. The screens followed the color-coded elves as they twirled glowing stun sticks around them. Each of the sticks had a string that connected it to its wielder, so it could be hurled and retrieved with a series of flicks of the wrist.

Lucifer whispered to his brother again. "We could tie those to our wings..."

"Yeah..."

Elandril squinted at them. "What are you two up to over there?"

"Just watching the match," Lucifer said.

"Uh huh."

"And Sellys has lost two members in a brilliant assault by Ganymede!" the announcer said. "What a sequence of throws!"

The jumbotron played the strikes in slow motion as two of his singuli ran by the blue members and struck them soundly in the face. The cameras froze and panned in three-dimensional views of Sellys' bodies flying down one of the maze corridors.

"Not to be outdone, Rorschaz knocks out two of Daniel. Whoa, looks like he got a radix on that one! That'll teach him to use a centralized mind!"

The Jumbotrons focused on the Daniel globus and circled around the singuli as they froze and shook in place. They twitched and cursed, and the crowd loved it.

Lucifer looked at Elandril, who was biting his lip. "Radix? What does he mean?"

"Not everyone is setup to have a fully decentralized mind like I do," he replied. "For the games, many contestants have a special singulus that controls the others. If it gets knocked out, they have to elect a new radix."

"Fascinating," Sariel said.

Elandril shook his head. "Maybe I shouldn't have shown you guys this."

Lucifer smiled and edged closer to the banister, even though he could see the huge, hovering screens just fine. "Don't worry, friend. I will never attack your kind again."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

They both laughed.

"Fair enough. Let's just say that I have no intention of killing an elf ever again."

"Archimedes' anus, folks! Did you see that triple kill? We're going to check the record books for a moment, but boy, Ganymede is really on a tear tonight! Sellys is down to five members, and his allies have dropped another three to Ganymede within five seconds. We have it on confirmation. We have it confirmed by the record keepers, folks! Ganymede has set new records for fastest sequence of triple kills in different quadrants! Amazing!"

Lucifer swiveled to watch the screen. In two separate parts of the arena, members of Ganymede's globus whipped their stun sticks through the air and incapacitated members from four different squads.

"Wow," Lucifer said.

"Why do you think I picked him to lead my royal guard? He's something else."

"Daniel took out four of Shep's members," the announcer said, "but lost three of his own in the effort. Rorschaz is working his way toward Ganymede, folks. The two-time champion is making his way to the reigning champ! Here's where the real show begins!"

Sariel wormed his way between Lucifer and Elandril and put his arms around them. "This is great."

Below them, the crowd was on their feet. The excitement was palpable and a buzz of energy seemed to permeate the stadium. Lucifer got caught up in the movement as well, beating his hand against the banister to the same rhythm as everyone else.

Bum bum bada-da-dum. Bum bum bada-da-dum.

"They missed! Did you see that, folks? Eight total throws, but the champions ducked away and moved toward easier prey. Excellent feint-and-rolls. Picture perfect! Take 'em as they present themselves. They make this look too easy!"

The monitors in front of him flashed "Cheater! Cheater!" as members of the super-globus pushed singuli to Sellys. Their outfits changed colors to blue.

"He's a disgrace to the royal color!" Elandril growled.

"Easy there, tiger!" Sariel said.

"And Sellys is back to ten members! Looks like he's using a radix as well. He's very vulnerable now, folks, and here come Daniel and Rorschaz! Better get through that forced relearning quickly or this is going to be the fastest ten singulus kill in history!"

A stun stick surprised one of Rorschaz's members and the weapon twirled back to a green hand, causing the gold team to duck through a break in the hedge wall.

"Rorschaz got out of there with just one member lost. Looks like Daniel is going to be nowhere near as lucky. Two. Three. Six down. Daniel's out! Daniel's out! Ganymede, you are just a beast, sir! Just a beast!"

Lucifer watched as Ganymede dashed down the corridor, and Rorschaz moved in parallel toward Sellys. He moved around the other side of the hedge and plucked out three of the twitching blue elves before retreating back into the greenery. Shep sprang into an open area in front of Sellys just as the radix had apparently been elected in the globus, and he paid for it dearly. Sellys' seven members devastated Shep, leaving just one member to stumble back into hiding.

"Quick look at the scorecard, folks," the announcer said as the jumbotron flashed the leaderboard. "Ganymede 10, Rorschaz 9, and Sellys 7. There are a handful of others, and Shep is holding on with just 1, but the champions are dominating yet again!"

Sellys incorporated three more of his allies, drawing loud jeers from the crowd, but he didn't show any concern on the jumbotron. His globus took in these newest members quickly and efficiently, unlike when the new radix was being elected, and moved confidently around the maze. He managed to surprise two of Ganymede's members and quickly dispatched them.

Thinking that he had the upper hand, Sellys moved into the corridor, but Ganymede was waiting for him.

"Sellys has been utterly destroyed. Seven members gone in an instant. From the sound of the crowd, he will not be missed."

Lucifer laughed as the crowd spat out long strings of curse words and exaltation of Ganymede's kills. Ganymede stepped over the stiff bodies and moved on, twirling his glowing batons.

"Oh, lucky strike for Shep, and Rorschaz is down to 8! Worthy sacrifice there, Shep! You went out with a bang, didn't you? It's evened up for the final confrontation, ladies and gentlemen. Ganymede 8, Rorschaz 8. It doesn't get any better than this!"

"Go Ganymede!" Sariel shouted. "Daddy needs a date with Rosaline!"

The screens showed past championship matches from the six years previous. Rorschaz apparently won the first two matches between them, but Callisto in pink had beaten most of Ganymede in that first encounter. In the second one, Rorschaz dominated Ganymede in a corridor, felling five singuli.

The third year Ganymede apparently won with a final lucky throw, but as Lucifer watched replays from the next three years, Ganymede got better. Five members left, then seven, then nine. This year he lost two to Sellys, a small setback, but these two globi were obviously the best of the bunch. What a match!

They were separated by three hedges and both globi kept recon parties of two singuli at each end of a corridor before moving on. Rorschaz lost a recon first, but Ganymede didn't follow up and lost one of his own along a separate section of maze. The globi were converging on the top of the mountain, and there was less and less room to maneuver. The ultimate showdown was imminent.

Another Rorschaz singulus fell.

"Seven to six, folks. Here it comes!"

The crowd chanted for their respective heroes, and for the three royals in the balcony, that hero was Ganymede.

"Come on, Ganymede!" Sariel yelled.

As if in response, Ganymede unleashed a volley. Seven stun sticks flew through the air and four connected. Rorschaz's remaining two singuli ran around the mountain pinnacle, and one of them unleashed his baton at Ganymede and struck true.

"Six to one, ladies and gentlemen! If you are not on your feet, you should be! What a championship!"

The Ganymede globus split into two groups of three and rushed the remaining target, but they didn't throw their stunners. Instead, they struck him directly on top of his head and raised their hands to the stadium rafters, allowing the deafening applause to course over them.

Ganymede turned in all directions from the mountain top and bowed to the crowd. He made a formal curtsy to the balcony overhang before playing the crowd some more.

"You ready for this?" Lucifer asked his brother.

"All of them at once, right?"

"Yep, but after the viewing orb."

"Of course."
Chapter 14

Game Changers

Elandril jumped off the balcony and floated down without wings, and Lucifer watched in awe for a moment before following him in a winged descent. He turned to beckon Sariel to join them, but he had disappeared. Lucifer opened his mouth to call for him but noticed his purple-winged brother on the monitors raising Ganymede's hand in celebration.

Lucifer breezed past the slowly drifting Elandril and nudged him in the shoulder before joining the elven champion atop the mountain.

"What a game!" he said, knowing the monitors would pick up his words over the noisy stadium. "What a contest and what a champion!"

"Yes, congratulations." Elandril's amplified voice resonated around the Coliseum. "Despite Sellys' exploits and a valiant push by Rorschaz, the Ganymede globus has won a fifth championship in as many years. Well done!"

Lucifer cheered with his brother as Elandril touched down below the peak.

"We have much to celebrate this year," Elandril said. "Another peaceful, productive period with unprecedented economic growth. We have prosperous trade throughout the universe, and we've seen more technological and magical development than at any other point in our history, and yet despite our progress, we knew that the time would come when our secret would get out."

Elandril was such a buzz kill. The crowd grew eerily silent. Lucifer wondered how much forewarning the elves would have about his plea for asylum. He wasn't entirely ready for a speech. He was still overwhelmed with the jubilation of the crowd.

"Today," Elandril continued, "some old friends and recent enemies have come to visit us. Many of you may wonder what this means for our civilization. Should we fall back to our Goblin moniker? Should we hide what we're doing?"

He let the elves argue in their comfortable chairs and tree limbs as monitors followed the faces in the crowd. There was one in particular that attracted the most viewers, though, and Lucifer recognized its features as belonging to a well-dressed forgewright. His face was sunken and hollow, and the skin on his ears appeared to melt down his lobes and onto his neck. He looked angry.

"You've killed us all, you idiot!" the elf screamed.

"This is Routan," Elandril said in a whisper to Lucifer and Sariel. "Runner up in the election. He ran on an old school platform—namely that we should hide from the demons and build in secret, adopt the Goblin moniker permanently to give Chaos false comfort and play to your ego. Additionally, we should avoid the heretical magics at all costs."

"Charming," Sariel said. "Ignorance, fear, and morals. If he doesn't attain office here in the Elven Universe, he should try his hand in Alurabum."

Lucifer pinpointed the location of the man in the crowd and addressed him directly. "Revered Routan, I understand you would have the elves hide from Chaos forever?"

"Not hide," the elf replied defensively, "but build proper defenses until we let you demons know that we are worth taking down again. Did you not come here before when you saw how beautiful our people were? Did you not come here before when you found out we were intelligent? As goblins, we are scum who are beneath you and not worth your time. As elves, we are your betters—more ancient, more noble, and more immortal!"

The elven mob roared their approval. Here was a proud people. Pride was something Lucifer had a lot of experience exploiting. He just had to get Routan to stop insulting him for long enough to compliment the elven people.

"Yes," Lucifer said. "We have a powerful contingent of extremely jealous and bitter old men in Chaos who lied, cheated, and stole their way into our political process. They won the Council's ear, and then they usurped the whole head. Now their tyrannical leader sits in the most powerful seat in our universe, and all of you have the power to stop him."

"How convenient!" Routan said. "The little prince whose royal father finally died is putting the blame for the genocide of an immortal race on someone else's shoulders!"

Lucifer swallowed hard. That wound might never fully heal over. "Those who know me, know that I am a demon of few words." He motioned to Sariel for King Veldin's assassination viewing orb. "I would rather be known for my actions and intentions."

"Like your intention to destroy our primal pattern?"

"I will fight the destruction of your primal, even if it means my death!"

Routan's eyebrows raised and a smirk spread across his face. "For a man of few words, you sure make mortal vows easily enough."

"I see before me an amazing race of immortals that have exceeded us demons in almost every way. Please don't sink to our level and mistake the craziness of one man for the intentions of an entire universe. My family took in Elandril, and we loved him like he was our own kin. My uncle Batarel saved your princesses and kept them away from Eranos and his bloodthirsty Council, saving your primal pattern in the process."

"More words, demon, and not a shred of proof..."

"You don't have to take my word for it," Lucifer said. "But perhaps you would listen to your king?"

"He is not our king yet!"

"I'm not speaking of Elandril; I'm speaking of your murdered king. Would you like to hear his intimate account of the source of our regrettable war?"

There wasn't a vocal reply for over a minute. Chairs creaked and soft thuds could be heard as elves clumsily dropped out of trees and onto the aisles below. Eventually, the crowd regained their senses. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Lucifer snatched the orb from Sariel's hand and threw it high into the air. The stadium monitors circled the orb and then aligned themselves opposite the layer of mist that was produced as the viewer spun in place.

"Your proof!" he shouted as an image flickered into view.

On the view screen, an elderly elf in blue robes paced the floor of the royal throne room in Arnessa. He was reciting something to himself, and his eyes didn't leave the ground until he finally looked at the recorder. At first, he smiled, but then he must have realized what he was looking at.

He didn't appear to panic. He didn't try to run for the door. Instead, he hailed the person who had placed the recorder.

"I have something to tell you before you kill me," Veldin said.

The crowd gasped, and Lucifer put his arm around Elandril, who was tearing up. The new king was watching this for the first time, too.

"Make it quick," Eranos said from the shadows. "And turn around so I can watch you die..."

"I understand that you are here because you are angry at my son..."

"He defiled my baby."

"The oracles told me," Veldin said. "And they showed me what the little girl would have looked like. Beautiful. Half-demon, half-elven. She would have united both universes."

"She would have been an abomination!"

"We are of the same line, you know," Veldin said.

"Turn around so I can kill you," Eranos replied.

"I still have something important to tell you. Tonight, you will murder your first king, but it will not be the last. And the other's eldest son will see you to your own grave. But first, know that the union you sought to sunder will be made whole once more. You will not destroy the Elven Realm, for your champions and our champions are the same. Your line and our line."

Eranos soundlessly moved behind the King, and the crowd gasped as he unsheathed his black daggers. "It's time."

"Many years from now, he will take your left hand. I'm fresh out of lefts, but I can spare a right..."

Veldin spun on his heel and in one fluid motion connected with the assassin's jaw. His follow through pressed him against Eranos's body, and they both stumbled toward the door. The King didn't push himself away. Instead he seemed to lean more heavily against the demon, whose wings were dancing behind him.

Eranos stepped back and the King fell to the floor. A pool of blood spread beyond the view of the recorder as the assassin rubbed his jaw.

"I may not kill the Goblin Realm," Eranos said, "but I sure as hell killed you, didn't I?"

He walked over to the recorder and reached down to turn it off, and the screen froze on Eranos's face. Lucifer looked up at it and snarled. For a moment, he forgot where he was. In his mind, he relived his father's and mother's last moments from his caged viewpoint. He watched as their heads bounced and rolled down the stairs, and he smiled as he recalled tearing Eranos's left arm from the rest of his body.

"Your King knew what would happen," Lucifer said. "He knew that I would be here before all of you asking for asylum. We have a common enemy—a deranged demon who killed both of our Kings to feed his own ignorance, hatred, and greed. This demon has led all of us astray, and we find it hard to trust each other given our history. It's easier to isolate ourselves and hide from the truth, but what has hiding from the truth ever done for either of our races? Temporary peace bartered with ignorance, fear, and economic depression."

"We've done just fine without you!" Routan yelled, and the monitors whirled back to him.

"But imagine what we can do together. Your champions and our champions. Your line and our line."

The monitors circled around the stadium, and viewing maelstroms focused on Lucifer's face.

"All we ask is for the chance to prove ourselves to you."

Elandril turned toward Lucifer. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well," Lucifer said, "we are here to watch a Certamen, are we not? What better way to show our progress and willingness to learn from you than to participate in your new favorite pastime?"

"Against who?" Elandril laughed, pointing to Ganymede. "Our champion globus?"

The crowd showed similar mirth, and Sariel pushed his brother aside. "Actually, we were hoping that you would let us fight all of them."

Rorschaz, Daniel, Shep, and the other globi joined Ganymede at the top of the mountain.

"You must be joking," Ganymede said. "Are you wanting some of us to fight on your side?"

"If I were joking," Sariel said as he smiled for the cameras. "I would have opened with the one about the three-nippled scientist walking into a bar. Have you heard it?"

Ganymede shook his head.

"Maybe later," Sariel said. "Anyway, us two against your ten best globi. We win, we stay. You win, we leave. What do you say?"

"I think you should start packing your bags," Ganymede laughed.

"I say you two have yourselves a deal," Elandril said to the delight of the crowd. "If you manage to beat a few of our champions, you gain our respect. If you manage to beat all of our champions, you gain your asylum."

***

Lucifer slipped the thin chord over his wrist and twirled a stun stick in his hand as he walked beside Sariel down the mountain.

"You apparate through the walls of the maze, and I'll leap over them with my wings," Lucifer said.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it."

"Just don't get lazy like you sometimes do. Make it random."

"Right, Mom. I'm on it."

"This is not that different from teleportation chess; it's just fifty to one here. We have to play smart."

"You mean strategy? Can't I just nuke 'em from orbit already?"

"No," Lucifer said in exasperation. "Look, how about some motivation? You don't get stunned, and I'll pay for a month of Rosaline's escort service."

"Forget everything I've said about you when you're not around," Sariel said. "You're all right."

"That's weird. I dislike you more with every passing minute."

"Would you hurry up?" Sariel asked before apparating out of sight.

Lucifer pushed his wings through the slots of his suit and launched himself to the base of the mountain. Sariel tapped his foot as Lucifer landed and motioned with his hands toward the opening of the maze.

"Come on, bro! Daddy needs a night with a distributed sex goddess!"

"You do this all the time, and I'm the one that gets left in an impossible situation."

"You are such a woman! Shut up. I've got this."

"I hate you so damned much. You're going to get stunned. I freakin' know it."

The monitors circled around them, and Lucifer noticed the countdown. Sixty seconds before the match started.

"You get stunned, and you're paying for Rosaline for both of us."

The monitors zoomed in on Rosaline's location in the stands, and she smiled at the attention. Her purple, pink and black globus stood up and danced for the monitors.

"Oh boy... she heard that, didn't she?" Lucifer asked and watched her red-haired singulus bite her lip and nod in the monitor.

"I guess so," Sariel said. "Anyway, whatever. You have a deal. If I get stunned, I pay for the finest escort service in the cosmos. If I don't, you pay. You ready to do this or what?"

The monitor showed twenty seconds.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Lucifer said. "Don't forget to capture their stun sticks and put them on a hand or wing."

"Everything's going to be fine."

Lucifer shook his head. Sariel never liked to work as a team. Hopefully, his brother would at least split the globi into two groups for a while. Five seconds until start. Four. Three. Two. One.

"And they're off!" the announcer yelled over the loud speakers.

Lucifer turned to say something to Sariel, but he was gone. Lucifer lifted himself on top of the two-story hedge and formed a protective series of halos with his wings, like a luminescent ribcage that extended ten feet around him. His strategy was simple. Catch the stun sticks with his wings, and use them against their masters. Improvise, react, and win.

"Did you see that?" the announcer asked the crowd. "Five champions down already! And he's picking up their stun sticks!"

"Well, at least he's not filtering out _everything_ I say..." Lucifer muttered.

A stun stick flew by his head, and he grabbed it with a wing while simultaneously throwing his baton at the source of the projectile.

"And Lucifer has his first kill!" the announcer said.

He pulled on the stunner cord to return it to his hand as he ran to a new location on the hedge, but the other chord was stubbornly stuck on the stunned elf's arm and required some rough pulling before it finally came loose. The downed singulus lay beside a turn in the maze, and Lucifer figured there might be more hiding behind the green wall.

He jumped across the opening and hit a soft spot on the opposite wall, causing him to tumble down the other side. Thankfully, the elves seemed surprised to see him.

The two elves who were turned toward him received the first strikes. Lucifer pulled back on the cords around his wrists while simultaneously picking up another baton from a recently felled singulus, which he used to incapacitate the remainder of the blue-clad team that he could currently see.

"Five more down to the Crown Prince of Chaos! Sellys is merging."

Lucifer crouched against the wall and alertly peered around the corner while retrieving the new stun sticks. There could be a globus anywhere. He wrapped the securing straps around his wings, formed three halos around him, and punched into the ground. He somersaulted into the air and leapfrogged the hedges, while actively scanning for movement.

He caught a glimpse of golden legs darting through a hedge that he had just flown over. He pushed himself onto the top portion of the wall—careful not to expose himself to the elves on the other side until he was ready to pounce on them. From this position, he could hear their footsteps coming his direction. Rorschaz was just underneath him.

He rolled over the hedge and aimed quickly.

"And the former champion loses three of his own. These demons are the real deal, folks. Your champions are going to need some support. Let's hear some noise!"

Lucifer could no longer discern any footsteps around him, but this meant his opponents couldn't either. With his sense of hearing dampened by the emphatic crowd, his other senses became more acute. He wondered how Sariel was doing.

"Our champions are down to eighty members, folks."

Crap. That meant Sariel was ahead of him. He had only managed eight.

"Quadrant four," someone nearby shouted.

"Whoa," the announcer yelled. "Two more down. This time Sariel hit Ganymede!"

"He's in seven now. Converge on seven!"

Lucifer turned around quickly, but no one was there. They must have been targeting Sariel. He moved toward the direction of the voices.

"Somebody help! He's in eleven!"

Lucifer launched himself high over the top of the mountain. He needed to see where his brother was. Far below, dozens of elves poured through openings in the maze toward the southeast part of the mountain. And there was his brother... apparating southeast in a predictable pattern.

Lucifer knocked out three of Sariel's pursuers and then another six multicolored singuli who were pressed against a wall.

"Folks, we are down to fifty. My God, the purple one's tearing us apart!"

Lucifer crouched against the top of a hedge and tumbled down to pursue a pair of green legs. Ganymede. And that's when he heard a crash against the brush behind him. He ducked and rolled just in time, and a stun stick sailed past him. He pivoted and fired his own stun stick volley, struck true, and then pressed his back against the wall as he moved closer.

The elf that almost bested Lucifer had fallen from the sky, and judging by the wall he hit, he must have come from the south. Lucifer punched his wings into the earth and rolled over the hedge into the other corridor.

"Quadrant fifteen! Not the appar..." a green-clad elf screamed before receiving a baton to the face.

Ganymede's singulus had been standing on the hands of two other elves, each of whom appeared to be in mid throw. Ganymede lost the launchers as well, but the pair of legs Lucifer had originally chased into the hedge almost caught him with an airborne stunner. The elf ducked into an adjacent corridor before Lucifer could return fire.

Lucifer climbed the wall and looked around for his brother, but he could see no movement anywhere.

"Sariel, if you can hear me, they're tossing members over the hedges!"

"And we have our first kill, folks. Ganymede has done it! A prince of Chaos is down. We're back to a forty to one advantage!"

"Idiot..." Lucifer grumbled.

An elf arced over an adjacent hedge, but he was looking the wrong way. His hands went limp, and he dropped his stun stick as he careened over another wall.

"Oooooh, tough break for Sellys. We have our first case of friendly fire. The stunner landed right on another singulus."

_Where there's smoke there's fire_ , Lucifer thought. It was unlikely that Sellys' singuli were working alone. He followed the path of the fallen elf and dropped from the hedge. Jackpot.

Overhead, a monitor flashed thirty-five remaining champions for the elven side.

"Quadrant six!" someone yelled.

Lucifer launched himself over a wall and just barely avoided a projectile. As he ran through an opening and jumped over another wall, he decided that it was time the gloves came off. No more playing around.

He brushed an elf aside with a wing and hit him with his own baton before picking the man up and using him as a shield. He bypassed a couple of stragglers and let their stun sticks bounce off the involuntary elven helper before stumbling upon a group of seven singuli in transit down a corridor. He threw the stunned elf at them and sent out a volley. The elves were so busy trying to catch the gold-colored man that they didn't try to dodge the batons.

Two additional singuli fell around the corner, and Lucifer picked them up and maneuvered them around to the weaker areas of his vision. Someone had to cover his back after all.

"Only a quarter of our champions remain!" the announcer yelled. "He's got shields, boys. You're going to have to encircle him!"

Lucifer jumped over a bundle of bodies and noticed luminescent purple. He turned and kept the elven shields to his backside as he inspected the heap of immortals and pulsating wings. Sariel lay under a golden and green colored set of elves. At least he had managed to take out a few of his attackers before they barreled down upon him.

He heard three soft thuds behind him and immediately knew what they were. He flipped atop the wall to his right, maintaining the barrier between him and his attackers. On his unprotected side, he saw an inbound missile and ducked under it. He caught two of the elves, but didn't pursue the others out of fear of another ambush. Instead, he retraced his steps and pushed himself high and fast over Ganymede's four remaining members.

One of them was lucky enough to escape, but he was visibly shaking. Even without a radix, it appeared that losing nine of ten members was enough to cause a distributed mind to hiccup. Lucifer committed this little tidbit of knowledge to memory.

He let Ganymede's remaining singulus flee and moved northwest.

"Quadrant nine!"

He changed direction.

"Quadrant six!"

They must have been watching the monitors.

"Damned cheaters," Lucifer said to the cameras as he dispatched four attackers. At least they were still being aggressive.

"Sellys and his allies are down," the announcer said. "The Daniel globus is out of commission. Shep is gone. Rorschaz has four, and our champion is left with just one singulus."

Time to find the golden child. Rorschaz. In Lucifer's mind, Ganymede deserved to be the last one standing. He had started the singulus tossing which took out Sariel, and the elven prince had also been communicating demon locations, which exposed his own position for the other globi to respond to. Any leader could appreciate that kind of teamwork and sacrifice.

He saw a green foot and let it go. Nothing but gold. He launched himself to the crest of the mound and pounced into the air. He walked with his wings and circled the peak like a satellite. All he needed was a glimpse. Here kitty, kitty.

And there he was. Rorschaz retreated back into the maze, and Lucifer worked his way around his flank. Now was not the time to be overconfident and launch a frontal assault. Lucifer grabbed a stunned elf and pushed him through an opening in the hedge with his wings. He smiled as two stun sticks harmlessly glanced off the man's face. Quickly and quietly, he mounted the wall and readied two of his wings to catch the other batons.

But it was unnecessary. He caught the two armed elves first, and grinned at the other couple as they frantically pulled their stun sticks back to them. He tapped one on the forehead with a baton and then slapped the other's stunner to the ground.

"Where do you want it?"

"J-j-just g-g-get it over with," Rorschaz's last member said through his convulsions. "Save me some p-p-pain."

Lucifer rapped the man on the forehead and watched him fall to his buttocks before toppling over into a deep sleep. He lifted the singulus and his three comrades and used them to protect his sides, back, and top as he returned to the peak of the mountain, where Ganymede's largest singulus was waiting for him.

"We meet again," Ganymede said.

"Indeed," Lucifer replied. "I guess it's time to finish what we started in the state room."

Lucifer threw Rorschaz's singuli aside and discarded all but two of his accumulated stunners, which he rotated around his hands. Ganymede set his feet and struck a guard position.

"Thanks for letting me regroup."

"Anytime. You ready?"

"Let's do this."

Lucifer ran at his opponent with wings dragging along the ground behind him. As he engaged, his wings came alive and struck at Ganymede in a multi-pronged attack, like a Chaos striker on a battlefield. Ganymede managed to parry the stun stick and three of the wings, but the others hammered him along the torso. He flew over the peak and into a southern hedge.

"Can't let a demon get too close," Lucifer said.

"I can see that."

Ganymede threw his baton at Lucifer's head, but it was quickly deflected as Lucifer pushed against the peak and flew toward him. He pressed the edge of the stunner into Ganymede's chest and let him slump against the hedge.

He couldn't hear cheering or the announcer, but he could see the crowd's reaction on the monitors as he backed away from Ganymede's serene expression. The elves were pouring down the sides of the Coliseum and onto the field.

After the events in Alurabum, he didn't trust a mob. He summoned his zinanbar blades and retreated until his back touched the stone pillar at the pinnacle of the maze. He raised his blades into a guard position before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll have to relinquish those if you want to stay in my universe," Elandril said.

Lucifer watched as the mob approached. They were smiling and laughing, and Rosaline was leading them. Her singuli's breasts bounced as her many feet bounded across the field and into the maze.

Lucifer smiled, passing the swords to Elandril. "Take care of them."

Elandril nodded as the blades vanished.

"So, we're square?" Lucifer asked.

"You and your brother have earned your asylum."
Chapter 15

The Coronation

Lucifer lay spread-eagled, looking up at the ceiling of one of Rosaline's bedrooms. The woman who had just serviced him traced a hand across his thighs as she walked towards the door. The three other singuli left him as well. He sank deeper into the silk-cushioned chair and looked through the thick scarlet curtains at the other Victorian buildings in the neighborhood.

"Where'd they go?" Sariel asked from his reclined position across another divan. "I mean, I was done, but I wasn't done-done."

Lucifer laughed. Even an immortal had limits. After a month of making love to different elven singuli multiple times a day, he might have hit just such an apex. But like Sariel, he wasn't _that_ interested in leaving.

"Do we have to go back home?" Lucifer asked.

"I sure as hell don't," Sariel said. "Eranos can have that crap hole."

"No," Lucifer said, shaking his head. "No, he can't."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Where did the women go?"

"I've asked them to leave us for a while," Elandril said from the doorway.

Sariel jumped up from his cushions and ran over to the door as Lucifer turned his chair to face the newcomer. Elandril hadn't visited them in weeks; not that Lucifer was complaining. Rosaline was doing her job well.

Her red-headed singulus watched Lucifer from the doorway, and he stared at her in return. This one never joined in, and that was unfortunate. She was the singulus that had held his attention in the stadium. She put her hand on Elandril's shoulder as she passed him and walked to Sariel's old divan before pulling it across the floor to Lucifer's seat. Sariel continued to talk animatedly to their old friend as Lucifer ran his fingers through Rosaline's crimson locks.

He looked through the door she had just come from and noticed that all of the harem lined the hallway. There were hundreds of beautiful singuli out there. Despite his exhaustion, he felt himself stir as she grabbed his hand and brought it to her lips.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

"You're a remarkable creature, Rosaline."

She fluttered her eyelids. "Why, thank you."

"Thousands of creatures working as one, spread across an entire universe."

"You're making me blush."

She wasn't lying. Her cheeks flushed as red as her hair. Her reaction to his words seemed odd. He and his brother complimented her at least a dozen times a day, often in the most salacious ways possible. But discuss her globus...

"Such a versatile woman," Lucifer continued. "So talented."

She dropped his hand gently to her lap and then placed it under her black dress.

"Lucifer," Elandril said from a couch along the wall. "Would you join us?"

"Coming," Lucifer said, bowing to Rosaline.

She readjusted herself on the divan. Other women filed into the room and draped themselves over her shoulders and legs.

"Elandril," Lucifer greeted him. "What brings you here?"

But Elandril didn't answer his question. He patted the couch, and Lucifer took a seat beside him. It was hard not to look at Rosaline, and not just because her tight black dress was hiked up to her thighs. She was staring right at him.

"Didn't you tell her to stay outside?" Sariel asked.

"It was more of a request, really." Elandril said. "Lucifer, what did you say to her?"

"I just complimented her."

Elandril leaned against the couch pillows and steepled his fingers. "What did you say?"

"I just said she was a remarkable creature."

Sariel laughed. "That couldn't have been it."

"And then I just commented on how amazing her globus was, and that I thought she was just highly versatile."

"Versatile?" Sariel put his hand to his forehead. "You've got to be kidding me. Are we even related?"

Elandril didn't respond. Instead, he nodded towards Rosaline who did the same in return.

"I've practically written sonnets about every inch of each of her singuli," Sariel said as he watched Rosaline grow restless, "but I've never seen her act like that."

"Our culture has changed considerably since the Great War—since the near destruction of our primal pattern by the Chaos assassin."

Sariel and Lucifer shifted in their seats.

"I do not want anymore apologies from either of you," Elandril said. "What happened in the war is over and done with, and most of our race welcomes the coming era. We are evolving."

"Excuse me?" Sariel asked.

"We are progressing down a different path, and our concept of the individual is now very, very different. Our communal and social order have changed, and so," Elandril said, laughing as he watched Rosaline, "have our compliments."

"So, telling an elf that she is gorgeous or hot-as-hell just doesn't do it for her, huh?" Sariel joked.

"No," Elandril said. "It doesn't. After all, you are probably complimenting just the outside appearance of one of her members. It's the equivalent of complimenting a demon's toenails."

"But each of her members is gorgeous," Sariel said defensively. "I mean all of her globus is gorgeous. Is that not a compliment?"

"Did you say it like that?"

"No."

Elandril spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe you should have."

"But if she has thousands of members spread across the universe," Lucifer said, "wouldn't she still have reason to dismiss the compliment? Even the hundreds in this mansion are probably a fraction of her overall self, right?"

Elandril nodded. "She's a woman. Maybe you should just stick to _versatile_."

"I'm filing that one away, for sure!" Sariel promised.

"How many singuli do you have?" Lucifer asked.

Elandril didn't reply.

"If Rosaline has many thousands, I'm guessing you must have tens of thousands..."

Still no response.

"Hundreds of thousands?" Sariel asked.

"I'm afraid that's a state secret, old friend."

"You still don't trust us?"

"I don't trust your race," Elandril said, "just as I don't trust Jehovah. I don't even trust my own people with that kind of information."

"You'll make a good king," Lucifer said.

He laughed. "Maybe so, but even a wise king can be ambushed if enough of his secrets are shared with his enemies."

"You mean Jehovah?" Lucifer asked. "You're not the ones with a cosmic death ray bombarding the heart of your universe."

"If you are successful with your plans to overtake Eranos and stop Jehovah's onslaught, then we elves may suffer the same fate."

"I think you misunderstand our cousin. He hates Chaos because of the Council. He just wants to be left alone."

Elandril laughed. "You really believe that? Archimedes' ass, Luke!"

"If you're going to curse," Lucifer said. "At least have the damn thing make sense!"

Elandril put his arm around Lucifer and brought him close enough to whisper. "Your cousin doesn't hate Chaos. He simply needs a primal pattern to feed off of. That contraption of his..."

"The Hall of Souls?"

"That's the one," Elandril said. "We came across some ancient experiments in our archives, and so when he came to us, we had some insight into his designs. The immortals degrade over time, and consequently, the Hall of Souls needs a fresh infusion every now and again. That's why he came to visit us thousands of years before your imprisonment. Like your father and the Council before him, he thought he would come across a weakened pattern—one that no one would mind being depleted of immortals."

"He told you this?"

"Not in as many words, but I could see it in his eyes and discern it from his questions. Your cousin is a scientist. I don't think he values the lives of other immortals quite like we do. His experiments appear far more important to him than any lives they might endanger, including his family members in Chaos or a few million elves in our universe."

"What experiments?"

"I specialize in being everywhere, but I'll be the first to admit that I would never venture into that creature's head," Elandril said. "I know a dangerous mind when I come across it. You could say my survival as a globus depends on it—singulus acquisition being what it is and all."

"Best to keep him away, then," Lucifer said.

Elandril stroked his hairless chin. "About that... I came here to tell you two that the coronation is tomorrow, and you're both invited."

"And Jehovah will be here as well?"

"I don't think so, but Michael has reserved a small Order contingent."

"We'd be delighted to represent Chaos," Lucifer said.

Elandril's grin became a frown.

"We're not the only demons who will be in attendance, are we?"

"I don't believe so," the elf said. "The Council is sending a large delegation."

Lucifer bit his lip. A large delegation from the Council instead of the Courts? Sounded like a trap. "Elandril, I hope you plan on turning them around at the gates."

"That wouldn't be very diplomatic," Elandril said.

"You're worried about appearances?" Lucifer asked. "These are the same people that killed your father and tried to murder your primal pattern. I have no intention of letting them get that close again. Allow me to organize a personal guard. Hell, I'll even serve in it."

"I'll think about it," Elandril said as he rose to his feet. He walked over to Rosaline's red-haired singulus and kissed her on the cheek before turning around to bow and wink at the brothers. "Meanwhile, you two should sleep on it."

The elected King exited the room as Rosaline's members entered. Her globus encircled them and began disrobing. "Tonight, dear princes, I show you how _versatile_ I truly am..."

***

Lucifer opened his eyes as sunlight hit his face, but he had trouble focusing on anything in the room. His head swam, and he wanted to go back to sleep, but a small voice in his mind told him not to. He needed to wake up, but he couldn't remember why. He struggled to sit up, but the three women covering most of his body held him firmly in place with their combined weight.

Rosaline's members responded to his stirring by rubbing their naked bodies against him, as they had done every day for the past month. He watched as they kissed each other, and then moved across his body with their lips and tongues. Something was wrong, though. His skin was numb, his vision was cloudy, and he couldn't think straight.

"What is going on?" he asked.

One of Rosaline's singuli mounted him, and she guided him inside of her. She rocked back and forth, but didn't answer him. She just smiled and kissed his chest, as did the other singuli, but he couldn't enjoy what was going on. His sensations were off.

He was reminded of the opium dens back on Earth, right down to the casual sex and feeling of oblivion. His head crashed back to the pillow in what seemed like slow motion, and he laughed as sounds echoed slightly, and his skin tingled all over. She continued to massage him as they finished together and the prickling feeling suddenly became acute. He shook his head to clear what he could of the mental fog.

"Rosaline... what time is it?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Am I not supposed to be somewhere today?"

"You haven't had much reason to leave before."

Lucifer sat up and extricated himself from the three women's grasps. "Where is Sariel?"

Her lips parted and she smiled mischievously. "Now we're talking."

"Maybe he'll know what's going on."

She pouted. "He left a couple of hours ago."

"Well, where did he go?"

"The Coliseum, I'm sure."

The Coliseum. Was there a Certamen today? Maybe he was supposed to compete. They hadn't asked him to since he had beaten their ten champions. Maybe they only wanted Sariel to participate so it would be fairer.

He slapped his hands to his forehead and pressed his fists against his eye sockets. There was something important going on at the stadium. Maybe he should ask Elandril. His hands dropped to the comforter as the recognition came to him. Today was an important day.

"The coronation!" he yelled. "What have you done?"

Rosaline bounced up and down on the bed. "Can we not go again for a while?"

Lucifer got up too quickly and fell into the nightstand. "What the hell did you give me?"

"An over-the-counter sleeping agent," she said. "Stop being such a baby."

"I'm supposed to be at Elandril's coronation."

"No, you're not," Rosaline said.

Lucifer spun around and fell into the oaken dresser, causing the large, heavy, attached mirror to topple onto him before crashing to the floor. "Where is my suit?"

"At the drycleaners. You wore it to dinner last night, and it got a bit soiled after what my members did under the table. Remember?"

He rubbed his temples as he leaned back against the dresser and tried to avoid the shards of glass. "Well, I need it now. I need you to take me to these cleaners."

"They're closed," her red-headed singulus said. "Everything is closed during the coronation."

"How could you do this to me?"

She folded her arms under her perky breasts. "The only thing that could keep me away from the King's coronation would be an executive order, Luke."

"Elandril doesn't want me there?"

"Now you're getting it."

"He thinks I'll ruin it?"

"I am not the King's ambassador. He just told me to make sure you were delayed."

"What time is it?" he said, reaching for the clock on the nightstand. "Eleven o'clock? What time is the coronation?"

"Noon."

"Archimedes' ass!" Lucifer said. "I need to get dressed. What do you have in your wardrobe?"

"I have a sexy little red number that I think you would love," Rosaline laughed. "Or we could just stay in and you could practice taking it off with your teeth."

Lucifer bumped into the door on his way out of the bedroom and ran naked down the hall. "Where are your men's clothes?"

He burst into the Atrium and stopped cold. Five elves rose from their chairs and bowed to him. They were old men, gray-haired, manicured, and well-dressed.

"Lucifer, I presume." One of them strode forward and offered his hand while smirking. "You are the spitting image of your father. I mean, right down to the... um... feet."

"Thank you?"

Rosaline's singuli poured into the room, and the three naked women moved immediately to the old man. "Lantomine, you never call!"

"Yes, and my wife most certainly appreciates that," the man noted drily.

"Tell her that she should join us for dinner some time," the two singuli said as they bounced playfully up and down while the redhead traced an arm around his shoulders.

Lucifer bowed to Lantomine but didn't make any attempt at covering himself. He was too busy looking at a rack behind the old men. "Is that a suit?"

"Yes, it is."

"May I?" Lucifer asked.

"By all means," the five men said in unison. "It is yours, after all."

Lucifer grinned as he approached the red-pinstriped, three-piece suit. It was beautiful. Eight holes in the back and black as night.

"We modeled it after your father's preferences," Lantomine said. "Black silk with red trimming and stripes. Conservative white with silver cufflinks."

"I love it."

"Well, try it on."

Lucifer pulled on the pants first and then asked the men to help him with the buttons and wings, but Rosaline's naked members volunteered instead.

"Oh, Mommy like."

"I am thrilled that you approve," Lantomine said. He flanked Lucifer in the mirror to watch them at their work, but when Rosaline began unbuttoning Lucifer's pants and rubbing on him, the tailor coughed delicately into a hand before leaving them alone.

Lucifer marveled at the way the suit hugged his features and extended his wings as he checked his profile for proper alignment with the eight apertures. As he was modeling, he noticed movement behind his reflection and turned around as a white-clad woman darted across the rooftops beside the atrium.

"Has the Chaos delegation arrived yet?" Lucifer asked as he pushed aside Rosaline's roaming hands and fastened his last cufflinks.

"The Ambassador arrived hours ago," Lantomine said. "But my other singuli are telling me that Chaos diplomats are still arriving at the stadium."

Lucifer ran to the windows and pushed the rotating pane. "Then there is no more time to waste."

"I have reserved an automated taxi for you, sir," the tailor said. "It is very fast."

"I'll need something quicker," Lucifer said as he leapt through the window and punched his wings into the street below, "if I want to catch that assassin."

"Good luck!" Rosaline called after him.

He launched himself down the street, sending mortar and bricks flying alongside him as he frantically searched the rooftops for his target. He didn't see any wings. Maybe she was a lesser demon. Lesser demons, he could certainly catch.

He looked atop the buildings for traces of Chaos eddies—telltale signs of the quick travel of demons through a hostile pattern—but she appeared to be masking them somehow. Or maybe that didn't apply anymore since the elves had altered their primal pattern. He turned around briefly to check his own trail and laughed at the huge wake of eddies he left behind him. Nope. Definitely no change there.

He pushed himself atop a nearby high rise and leapfrogged from building to building. It wasn't until he launched himself hundreds of feet above the local buildings that he realized he had passed her. She apparently took a left long ago, toward the Coliseum.

"I guess I should have thought of that," he mumbled to himself. "Of course, she would be heading to the coronation."

He increased his speed as he neared the roof of a brick warehouse where she had paused, apparently still unaware that she was being followed. In her white headgear, robe, and rugged attire, she cut a sharp contrast against the brown-and-red brick as she stooped low to watch the streets below. He tried to summon his long zinanbar blades but then remembered surrendering them to Elandril at the championship Certamen. His only hope was to take her by surprise, but a Chaos assassin was a notoriously hard target to catch unaware, and he still hadn't worked out what he was going to do once he caught her.

Everything looked good on his approach, right up to the point where he could smell her sweat. When he came within an arm's reach, she twisted her body and moved underneath his trajectory, then pushed herself into Lucifer, causing him to roll in midair with her knee firmly planted in his abdomen. His speed carried them over several buildings, and he looked at her exposed green eyes as he braced himself for the impact of their landing.

It was not comfortable.

She flipped herself behind him, seconds before impact, and rolled off of him, leaving him to fend for himself against a brick chimney. To cap off his humiliation, the assassin jumped on top of him and unsheathed her zinanbar daggers to point menacingly at his crotch and chest.

"Do you know who I am, assassin?" Lucifer asked.

"Yes," a familiar voice laughed to Lucifer's left.

Sariel sat at the edge of the roof, eyeing the same scene the assassin had been looking at and smiling at his brother. "I see you've met Anne, then."

Even with the headgear shrouding all but her eyes, Lucifer could tell she was smiling. He realized there was no way to get out of this with his dignity intact.

Lucifer sighed and allowed his head to fall back to the rooftop. "What are you up to, Sariel?"

"Did you seriously intend to wrestle with an assassin?" Sariel asked, not willing to let this drop, seeing as how a female assassin was still on top of one of the most powerful warlords in all of Chaos, threatening his manhood with zinanbar daggers.

"I don't have my blades at the moment," Lucifer said, shrugging.

"It's a wonder you've survived this long," Sariel said, nodding his disapproval and shaking some hair out of his eyes.

"In my defense," Lucifer said, "I'm used to ordering assassins to do my bidding—not trying to stop them."

Anne giggled but didn't move from her position on top of Lucifer. "Do you see them, Sariel?" she asked, still looking directly at Lucifer.

"Several," Sariel said. "At least three of them. I'm guessing most of them are already in the Coliseum."

"What are you looking for?" Lucifer asked, exasperated at once again being left out of the picture.

"Assassins," Sariel said as he continued to scan the streets.

Lucifer looked at Sariel and then at Anne. "Which assassins?"

"The Royal ones," Sariel said. "The Council ones. I'm not sure there is a difference anymore."

"So, Eranos intends to kill Elandril here?" Lucifer asked. "What exactly is that going to accomplish? He's not even one person."

"Eranos doesn't know that yet," Sariel said. "And neither does Lord Phillip, the acting ambassador from the Council—their chief assassin."

Anne appeared to be slightly confused. "Wait, you mean the Goblin Realm is using multiple decoys to hide the real king?"

"No," Lucifer said, laughing and accidentally brushing against one of Anne's daggers, causing him to squint in anger at her. After realizing that she may have just done that on purpose because he wasn't answering her question, he tried a different tact. "I mean Elandril is a distributed being. Goblin society is not what it used to be."

"Anne, get off of my brother before I brain you," Sariel said.

"Oh, please," Anne replied. "I'm certain he's enjoying it."

Her eyes ventured downward suggestively.

"I just left a whorehouse. That's not your doing."

"Rosaline would absolutely disown you if she heard you calling it a whorehouse," Sariel warned. "That's like _versatile_ minus infinite."

"I suppose she would," Lucifer said as he brushed aside the daggers and stood up.

"Who is Rosaline?" an aged, raspy voice croaked from nearby.

Lucifer turned to see his uncle Batarel, who was now looking across the shifting mob with his student Sariel.

"Both of you are in on this?" Lucifer asked. "What the hell are you two up to? Can you just give me a small nugget of information here? You're killing me."

"Nothing official, that's for certain," Batarel said. "The Council of Wizards has been corrupted. Eranos has them completely under his thumb."

Lucifer stood up, brushing off pieces of the chimney that he and Anne had recently destroyed. "I hear you have been doing a lot of unofficial things."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Lucifer looked at Anne significantly. "We'll talk about it later."

"What do you know?" Batarel asked.

"I know that you have your own cult here in the Elven Realm."

"The Elven Realm?" Anne asked. "And who has a cult?"

"What are you getting at, Lucifer?" the old wizard asked.

Lucifer spread his arms and waved to the city around him. He pointed at the mass transit rail system that was delivering thousands of elves to the stadium. He struggled for words to describe his sense of amazement at the gigantic metal skyscrapers standing next to brick-and-wood homes and trees. Children conjuring magic freely and making their own impromptu, unnatural blue fireworks in celebration of their king.

"This is all worth fighting for," Lucifer said.

"I know," Batarel said, looking hesitantly at Sariel, then Anne, and finally back to Lucifer.

Lucifer nodded back in understanding. Yes, he would know. He was the first family member to really stand up for the Elven Realm. The first one to shake off his racism and save a pattern. Lucifer should have done the same for his friend. Better late than never.

"It's time I was on the right side for once," Lucifer said. "I'm going in there to defend Elandril."

"I think you underestimate the new king," Batarel said. "I know the Council does. Whatever they are going to throw at him, he'll be ready for it."

"That's irrelevant," Lucifer said, joining them to watch the assassins entering the Coliseum. "I owe Elandril more than that. He deserves a show of support—the kind that he never got from me during the Great War. We are not just some exiled family branch; we are scions of our clan, and the rightful heirs to the throne. Today, we start acting like it."

Lucifer's rage focused into his wings, and their shade of red shifted to maroon. Recklessness coursed through him, and Sariel began to teeter back and forth.

"I will go with you," Sariel said, purple wings flaring around him, supporting himself on the rooftop. He didn't look at Batarel, who was shaking his head. Instead, he looked at Anne, who was moving toward the brothers.

"Anne," Batarel said. "I forbid it. Absolutely not."

"I'm sorry, father," Anne replied. "But I think you're a little out of your jurisdiction on that order."

"Don't do this to me, Anne. I have no intention of losing you now."

Anne twirled her daggers before sheathing them at her sides. "Then don't."

She turned to Lucifer. "No hand or weapon in this universe will touch you as long as I am near you, lest it pierce my body to do so."

Batarel muttered viciously to himself. "God damned young people!"

"The jig is up, old friend," Sariel said. "Whose side will you find yourself on this time?"

Batarel looked at them, defeat clearly etched across his face. "I will make sure you are protected from Ambassador Phillip."

"Protect him from me," Lucifer snarled.

Batarel lifted himself up on purple wings to join them. "Shall we go to the Coliseum, then?"

"Well, that's where my swords are," Lucifer said, drawing a giggle from Sariel. "It only makes sense."

***

Lucifer led the way to the Coliseum entrance, but as they got closer, more and more elven guards surrounded them. They pushed the Kadingirs toward a side gate, and Lucifer caught glimpses of several demon diplomats strolling through the front door.

"Have you lost your mind?" an elven guard asked him.

"What's your name, friend?" Lucifer said.

"Alex."

"Well, Alex, do you realize that over a hundred Chaos assassins are pouring into this stadium as we speak?"

"Of course," Alex said. "And I'm sure you know what demon assassins would do if they felt they were surrounded and their covers were blown, right?"

A guard pushed Lucifer forward. "Hurry the hell up! They're going to see you."

Lucifer picked up his pace, and Sariel pushed the guard aside to join them.

"Stay low," the prince assassin said. "Maybe they'll think we're just a couple more VIPs."

"You better hope to your deities that none of them are wizards," Alex said. "Because if they unleash a Chaos bolt into that crowd of globi, our universe would never forgive you—no matter what your uncle did for us."

Batarel joined them at the front of the mob, followed by Anne. Alex's mouth went agape as each guard bowed awkwardly in their plate armor.

"It's an honor, sir," Alex said. "A real honor."

"You must have me confused with someone else," Batarel said. "I'm a demon and a wizard, and I have killed more than my fair share of your people."

"That may well be," Alex said as he bumped into an elven woman and confiscated a ticket. When she protested, he pointed toward Batarel and motioned for her to follow, which she all too readily did.

"Sir," Alex continued, offering the ticket to Batarel and grabbing a pen that the woman had between her breasts. "Please, would you?"

"Would I what?"

"Sign. My daughter would absolutely die."

"What is he going on about, father?" Anne asked.

"Don't look at me," Batarel blurted. "I haven't the slightest idea what is going on here."

"Stop!" Alex commanded.

The elves halted their progress and hemmed in their demon VIPs. Each stared straight ahead as thousands of elves streamed around them.

"Allie," Alex said, pushing the ticket and pen toward Batarel.

"Excuse me?" Batarel said.

"My daughter's name is Allison, but we call her Allie."

Batarel grabbed the pen like he thought it might be wet or covered in filth. Lucifer laughed.

"Our uncle, the celebrity," he elbowed his brother. "Some people just can't handle the limelight."

"Dear Allie," Batarel read his writing aloud. "Your father is very persistent and appears to be unaware that I could easily vaporize him. All the best, Batarel."

Sariel bent over in mirth and used Lucifer to steady himself. "I don't know, Luke. I think he's handling it just fine."

But Alex was just the beginning. Screams echoed around the crowd as spectators began to recognize the wizard.

"It's him! Bless the Architect, he's here!"

"Get us out of here," Lucifer said.

"To the side gate!" Alex yelled, and the guards moved once again.

"Thank you," Batarel said, as he dodged grasping hands. Several women offered their chests to him as signature space.

"I find it remarkable that you don't have more children," Anne said.

"If our escort doesn't pick up the pace," Batarel said. "I fear I may have procreation forced upon me."

"Oh, God," Anne said, covering her eyes with a white leather glove. "Mental images. Mental images."

The guards pushed the demons through the side gate and into the gladiator corridors. Lucifer heard hundreds of fists pounding on the walls behind him. As he walked farther into the darkness of the hallways, the thudding became a low buzz and then a soft hum. His footsteps echoed against the stone and mortar, but a growing cacophony drowned out these softer sounds. Above him, the crowd could be heard stomping their feet in cadence, and Lucifer's silk suit vibrated against his skin from the magnitude and harmony of the festivities outside.

"You ready?" Alex yelled as they approached the stadium doors.

Lucifer extended his wings through the slits in the back of his jacket and nodded as he brushed his sleeves free of dust.

Sariel pushed Lucifer in the back as Alex opened the door.

"Let's put a damper on Eranos's day, shall we?"

***

Batarel skirted the inside track of the stadium and watched the screens, trying to get a better glimpse of Phillip. But the jumbotrons wouldn't budge from their focus on Lucifer and Elandril.

Phillip sat to Elandril's left on a raised dais at the center of the Coliseum, but far enough away that he was mostly out of the views. Batarel's other nephew, Michael, sat closer to Elandril's right. Most of Phillip was obscured, except for a hand covering his mouth and eyes dancing back and forth between the brothers in front of him. Batarel tried to nod to Phillip to put him at ease, but the ambassador only stood up straighter.

As he continued to skim the walls, Batarel prepped a zip-line back to the Chaos Primal and aimed it at Phillip. With just a flick of his wrist, the zip-line would gain a threshold into this universe, and an immense fountain of pure energy would be at the wizard's disposal for as long as he could keep the portal open.

In front of the royal platform were hundreds of ornately decorated seats, and there wasn't an empty cushion in sight. Batarel watched as Lucifer strode confidently down the aisle with wings flaring, and he smiled as the jumbotrons showed his apprentice Sariel apologizing exaggeratedly after he knocked over several of the Chaos assassins with his wings. Anne followed closely behind the brothers with hands over her knives. The jumbotrons seemed to avoid her white-masked face; apparently, the announcers didn't find her as interesting.

The assassins shifted in their seats as the demon princes bowed low to Elandril, just twenty feet from the pavilion, but Lucifer didn't appear to take notice. He was distracted by a trunk that rose up from an opening in the floor, directly in front of Elandril.

Batarel used magic to peer into the platform and marveled at the marriage of technology and automated magic hidden there. He couldn't be certain at this distance, without playing with the gadgets, but it looked like the wood, cloth and steel of the dais hid a summoning machine—a device that was only untested ancient theory in the Chaos University Library. And yet here it was fully operational in the Elven Realm. What could be so important that it would need summoning just before a blood bath? He looked into the box and found objects that were far more familiar to him, and certainly more recognizable to Sariel and Lucifer.

The jumbotrons circled Lucifer and his brother, and the elves around the stadium grew restless as the awkward silence continued. Now would have been a perfect opportunity to tell the crowd why the princes were here.

"Lucifer needs his voice," Sariel whispered to Batarel over a direct magical link.

Batarel nodded as he pinched the zip-line and molded an amplification charm from a small amount of raw energy. With his other hand, he pushed the invisible, shaped magic on a thread to Lucifer. As his nephew received the charm, he straightened his posture and addressed the new king.

"We, the rightful rulers of Chaos, intend to repay our debt to you," Lucifer said, his voice booming over the screams of hundreds of thousands of elven spectators.

"You owe me nothing," Elandril said.

"Then we will repay your immortal citizens for our asylum within this great universe," Lucifer said, "by declaring our official friendship to the _Elven_ Realm."

A dozen Chaos assassins fell out of their chairs, and Lord Phillip let out a series of muffled coughs.

"And how would you repay this debt you claim to owe us?" Elandril asked, raising his voice as well, though it was mostly unnecessary as the crowd had silenced itself.

"The same way we seem to repay all of our debts here, Great King," Sariel replied.

"We were thinking of another Certamen," Lucifer added, "but in a style more fitting with Chaos traditions."

"I see," Elandril said. "To the death, I presume?"

"To the death," Lucifer agreed.

"Deal."

Two dark red wing tendrils shot down the aisle from Lucifer's back, exploding the chest in front of the King into a thousand pieces and retrieving Lucifer's two six-foot zinanbar blades in blurring speed. The crowd roared its approval as fireworks lit up the sky overhead and a magical barrier raised itself above the wall behind Batarel.

Sariel retrieved his own various daggers with his purple wings from the remnants of their former receptacle, and Anne shadowed him as Lucifer turned the other way. Hundreds of elves and ambassadors from Order toppled over rows of chairs as they exited the stadium, and behind them, the demon assassins kicked over their seats and spread out to encircle the princes.

Above him, Batarel could hear bookies taking bets on whether or not the Chaos princes would survive the fight with the assassins. Batarel smiled. Chaos assassins were trained in the art of surprise. Frontal assaults were not their forte. Phillip was the real problem. Batarel readied his zip-line to the pattern. He wouldn't open it unless Phillip tried to tip the scales.

Lucifer whirled his swords as he paced in front of Eranos's demons. "I offer an official peace treaty to Elandril and this universe. You demon assassins will not have the Elven King's head today. Instead of his head, I will offer you yours. Peace welcomes you at the exits behind you, and death waits just underneath you. Follow the pretender or follow me. The choice is yours."

A single knife arced wide of Lucifer and flipped end-to-end across the dirt and grass. The bolder assassins placed their hands over their throwing blades, and the other half of the demons eyed each other and the exits.

"So be it!" Lucifer yelled. "Death it is!"

The Crown Prince turned into a tornado of wings and blades as he moved directly toward the demons with weapons drawn. As they stumbled backward, apparently trying to find a weak point to throw their knives at, Lucifer sent wings at them and pulled them to him, eviscerating them cleanly and throwing their bloody remnants at the others.

Several fell within the first minute, and another half a dozen were taken out of the fight temporarily by slippery torsos and legs. Lucifer pinned others down with his wings like a Chaos Army striker before sliding a blade into their bellies and adding their bodies to his carnage.

"Ten Chaos champions are down," the announcer yelled excitedly over the loudspeakers.

"Come on, Anne!" Sariel said. "He's already got a lead!"

Batarel scooted down the wall as he switched between watching Phillip and his nephew and adopted daughter. He opened up a line of communication to Phillip.

"It's over, Phillip. Let's return to the Council."

"You first," Phillip sent back before closing the channel.

Batarel shook his head. He wanted so badly to fire a warning shot over Phillip's head, but that would be foolish. Even if he wasn't a combat warlock, Phillip was still a dangerous wizard. He wouldn't be able to compete with Batarel for long, but he could easily harm the Kadingirs in the center of the arena.

The floor of the Coliseum shook as hedges began to rise from the ground. Assassins slipped over bloody remains and vines, and bunched together as they ran down the Certamen corridors in abject confusion.

On the jumbotrons, Batarel watched Sariel apparate into small groups of assassins and drive his short blades into their backs and sides as Anne marched directly at them. When they frantically retreated from Sariel's surprise attacks, they ran right into her knives. Death was everywhere for Eranos's assassins—just as Lucifer had promised.

The pavilion rose with the mountain peak. Michael looked even more nervous than Phillip, but Elandril stared straight ahead, betraying only a smirk.

Lucifer jumped atop a hedge in the center of the maze and stalked the assassins until he had an opportunity to surprise them from above.

"Forty Eranos champions remain," the announcer called. "It's a slaughter, folks."

And then Phillip was gone from the pavilion. Batarel looked to the jumbotrons, but they were tracking Lucifer, Sariel, and Anne. He readied his zip-line as his eyes searched the maze and the stands. Phillip must have apparated. Maybe they would be lucky. Maybe Phillip had gone back to Chaos.

A whooshing noise answered that question once and for all.

High above the pavilion, Lord Phillip was unleashing hell. A bolt of pure chaos was ripping through hedges and careening toward Lucifer.

"A new challenger appears!" the announcer clapped into a microphone. "Just look at that concentrated malice, ladies and gentlemen!"

Batarel quickly pinched the zip-line and morphed a charm to his own throat. "To me, children! To me!"

He could see Lucifer pivot on a hedge and look first to Batarel and then to the massive channeled bolt that was moving toward him from the pavilion. Lucifer jumped from the hedge and punched into the ground with his wings, sending him flying toward Batarel. The jumbotrons focused in on the demon assassins, who were getting the hang of the maze and launching themselves in pursuit.

Batarel had an idea. Phillip was no doubt shielding himself, but to maintain a primal bolt that big from this far out would require a far greater amount of concentration. He couldn't stop the bolt, but he might be able to knock it off course for a moment.

Batarel opened the zip-line and unleashed a concentrated burst at Phillip's shoulder. Phillip rotated sideways, causing the bolt to veer wildly up the slope and into Lucifer's pursuers. Airborne and vulnerable, the frontrunners perished instantly in the chaos. The ones that didn't disintegrate screamed and grounded themselves back to the mountain before flinging their bodies into the hedges.

"Anne, Sariel!" Lucifer yelled through his charm. "Get out of there!"

Sariel apparated to the base of the mountain, within full view of Batarel, but Anne didn't emerge for over a minute. Behind her, the channeled spell devoured dirt, leaves, and rock, leaving a twenty-foot-wide path of destruction down the mountain.

That bolt wasn't going away. They needed a shield and quick, but they were too remote and too spread apart for Batarel to conjure something adequate to protect them from pure chaos.

"Hurry, my children!" Batarel screamed. "Hurry! To me!"

He opened the channel back to the Chaos Primal and shaped a bubble fifty yards in front of him. Lucifer was the first to reach it. He turned around and watched his brother apparate just in front of and then inside the bubble. Batarel walked toward the shield, but it needed to be bigger. He opened the zip-line more and channeled additional energy into it. The purple shield expanded, but he had to stop in his tracks to maintain it. The bubble contracted with every step he took.

He set his feet and yelled into the roar of the coming bolt. "Tell me when Anne is clear."

"Thirty feet," Sariel said. "Twenty feet."

Batarel was still exposed. He tried to take another step, but the shield wavered.

"Tell me when she is inside!"

"The bolt is gaining momentum, Uncle!" Lucifer said.

He was right. Phillip had a good handle on the source now. Anne wasn't going to make it. Batarel pushed the shield and Lucifer and Sariel along with it.

"She's in!" Sariel yelled.

Batarel waited for a second before releasing the shield, but it was a second too long. The bolt scorched its way to him, and as he dove out of the way, he felt sharp pains throughout his body. His fingers dug into the soft ground around him, but his left arm was unresponsive. He tried to kick but the pain was too unbearable.

He screamed, but nothing came out, and through the tears, his eyes searched around the stadium for the bolt. He tried to yell at Anne as she ran toward him, but again, there was no sound. Only pain. He pushed at the dirt, but his left arm just wouldn't comply. He flipped over onto his back to check what he was caught on, but there was nothing there. He lifted his head from the ground and reached down to his belt to pull himself up, but there was no belt.

The pain was agonizing, but as his fingers worked their way over the cauterized wounds that marked where his abdomen used to be, the realization was worse. He closed his eyes and struck at the ground with his lone fist. A wizard was loose in the arena, and his kids were without a magical protector. He heard Lucifer's footsteps before he saw them, and he panicked as he realized, through the pain, that they weren't coming toward him. Lucifer was heading back up the mountain.

***

Lucifer refused to look at Batarel again. That wasn't his uncle. That was just a heap of flesh, bone, wings, and charred skin. He grabbed a set of throwing knives from an assassin he'd killed and then vaulted toward the middle of the maze.

The chaos bolt loomed large in front of him. It blocked out the pavilion, his brother Michael, and his ultimate target—the destroyer of a trusted friend, patron, and mentor. It was Phillip's time to die.

But the channeled magic ruined his angle. He ran across the hedge in a semicircle to get a better view. There was Michael. He was yelling at Elandril, but the Elven King was in a staring contest with the bolt. Above him, just out of range, was Phillip. His face was livid as he maneuvered that horrific ray of death back toward the dais.

Lucifer panicked as he jumped to a hedge and almost slipped off. The bolt was close to Elandril—too damned close. Michael was shielding and motioning for Elandril to join him, but the blue-skinned elf waved him off.

Lucifer only had two throwing knives, and seconds to set his feet for an accurate toss. Another friend was about to die.

He skidded to a stop on the manicured hedge and heaved a first throw. It flipped end-to-end and whizzed over Michael and Elandril's heads before embedding itself in Philip's shoulder. The channeled spell sputtered momentarily as the ambassador winced in pain, but the bolt moved on. Maybe Phillip couldn't stop it at this point.

Lucifer had been aiming for the center of the ambassador's chest, but throwing-knives weren't his top proficiency. The next throw would have to be more accurate.

The bolt travelled faster. It was almost on top of the pavilion now, but Elandril seemed unconcerned with it or its wielder. Lucifer noticed an opening in the floorboards where the trunk had risen earlier. A blue globe appeared there at Elandril's feet, and the King picked it up.

Lucifer cocked his arm with the last projectile, breathed deeply, and let it fly. The blade's finely-honed zinanbar sang as it arced over the dais, but the spell was faster than his throw. The platform disappeared under a swirling, dripping magma of concentrated energy and chaos, and for a moment, Phillip's head angled backward and the stadium microphones broadcast his maniacal laugh.

But the laughing turned to sputtering, and the jumbotrons focused in on the blood flowing down his face and neck and the hilt protruding from his torso. Lucifer's last throw had been true. Too late but accurate.

The bolt dissipated, and the last of its potent maelstroms wasted away into the afternoon air. Two blobs remained on the platform where Michael and Elandril had been. The goo cleared from Michael's shield first. He was yelling, but Lucifer couldn't hear anything from outside the shield. He pushed himself over the last hedge and onto the peak of the maze, just in front of the platform, but out of reach of the congealing magma and chaos, which was already solidifying.

"Elandril..." Lucifer said as tears welled in his eyes.

He expected the blob to break apart like a statue hit with a hammer, but the dripping gel was leaving something solid. A bright globe that Elandril had grabbed earlier was the first thing to appear, and then a blue, ethereal forearm.

"Fool," a hollow voice said from the pavilion. "You think I, an elf that has undergone the celestial forgewright training, could be killed by energy and chaos? Look upon my true form and tremble!"

The jumbotron screens showed Phillip's frightened, illuminated face and body as he jerked in his death throes. The peak was now bathed in soft blue as flames of soul arced off Elandril's body onto the floor and Michael's shield.

Elandril peeked at Phillip from behind the orb and smiled through those wispy lips and shadows of teeth.

"Take your wasted form back to the Courts and give Eranos my kindest regards," Elandril called.

He whispered into the globe and a fiery jet wrapped around the object, consuming the orb in light before erupting upward toward Phillip. The beam of energy carried him high into the heavens and out of sight.

Lucifer dropped to his knees and gazed at the jumbotrons as they flipped between the new king and the elated crowd. Well-dressed elves hugged painted, naked ones while others pounded their fists against tree limbs and the magical shield that kept them from pouring onto the field. Lucifer rolled onto his back to look over the maze and field below. Far away, his brother and Anne knelt beside a burnt path and a writhing figure.

He stood and launched himself like a bullet toward them. Before he even impacted the ground, he could hear and see his uncle screaming in pain. Sariel sobbed into his hands, and Anne tucked her head between her knees and cried. Lucifer wiped away his own tears and shook his brother by the shoulder.

"What can we do, Sariel?"

"Nothing. He's dead. He just doesn't know it yet."

"Save the realm," Batarel whispered through short breaths. "Save them both."

"We will," Anne promised him.

Anne's armor and clothing changed from white to periwinkle, and Lucifer turned around to see Elandril and his blue corona floating down to join them. Michael was ahead of him, white wings flaring as they punched into the earth below. Lucifer was glad to see some emotion washing over his face.

"Can your magic help him?" Lucifer called to Elandril.

"No. His wounds are beyond our abilities."

Michael shook his head. "I know of nothing that can save him."

All around the stadium, elves stopped hugging and pounding on the shield. The screens were now showing Batarel's grimace and the tears of the Kadingirs surrounding him.

"Ah, but you do," Elandril said. "What our primal patterns lack, yours possesses."

"The Hall of Souls?" Michael asked.

"What are you talking about?" Lucifer said. "Are you saying that if we carried him into the primal, it would restore his..." Lucifer looked at Batarel's missing arm and legs. He couldn't seem to form the words, so he pointed at them instead.

"In a way," Elandril said.

"The Hall of Souls recycles souls not bodies, Lucifer," Michael said tentatively. "We would be taking him there to die."

"So, he would become an angel?" Lucifer said.

"So that he could be reborn, yes."

"Over my dead body."

"I'm sure we could arrange for you to die there as well." Michael said. "But that has no bearing on the options for our uncle. You could let him die here in Arnessa, or I could try to bring him back to Order."

"You mean you can't just teleport him there?"

"We already talked about this," Sariel said. "Trillions of light years."

"I could try to trigger a vortex back, but it will be dangerous," Michael said. "We would be traveling through the heart of the Primal Order, and the pattern will actively reject him. He's not made of the same stuff."

"Then it will reject me too," Anne said.

"And me," Sariel added.

"That makes four of us." Lucifer said.

"I don't even have permission to try this," Michael said, watching himself on the jumbotrons and trying to hide his words with his hands, but the microphones were picking him up just fine.

The crowd booed at his reluctance.

"I'm not saying that I won't try," Michael said, more for the mob of elves than anyone nearby. "I know for a fact that Jehovah won't mind another immortal soul in the pattern, least of all our uncle's. I would just rather have Batarel ask for it. It should be his choice."

They all turned to him, but Batarel had passed out from the pain.

"Did you give my legion a choice?" Lucifer asked.

"They chose to kill the Intellectuals," Michael said.

"Well, that's perfectly rational." Sariel rolled his eyes. "There isn't another choice, anyway. If there is a way to bring Batarel back, even if it's with that ridiculous wing color, I would suffer this vortex a million times."

"We'll see," Michael said.

"Yes, we will."

"Let's get him out of here." Lucifer dropped to his knees and searched for a hold that wasn't burnt or bloody. "Someone help me carry him."

To his surprise, Elandril stepped up alongside his brothers and Anne. And as the front entrance opened and the shields came down, thousands flocked into the stadium and surrounded them. A few medical personnel parted the spectators and passed a stretcher to the Kadingir party. They were joined by Ganymede and all of the elven Certamen champions who each took up positions around Batarel's charred form.

They lifted the wizard onto the stretcher and called for a path to be made to the exit. Followed by Elandril, flanked by royal elven guards and watched by millions of immortal eyes, the death march of the greatest battle wizard in all of Chaos made its solemn exit from the Coliseum.
Chapter 16

Returning to Order

Lucifer retched for the fourth time into the swirling transport and begged for a stop.

"We can't stop here, Lucifer," Michael said. "You'll die. You'll all die."

"Tell it to stop fighting us."

"I would have more luck convincing a hurricane to stop raining and blowing so damned hard."

"It's a natural reaction," Sariel explained after wiping his own mouth.

"We're pushing into a swirling vortex to bring a half-dead uncle to his resurrection," Lucifer said. "I don't think _natural_ has anything to do with it."

"And yet everything we are comes from this simple truth," Sariel said. "We are pushing into the primal pattern of a natural enemy, and it fights us with every step."

"Can we not exit this monstrosity and travel normally?" Lucifer asked.

" _You_ could," Michael said before pointing toward Batarel. "But _he_ couldn't."

"How long does he have?"

Anne wiped the sweat from her father's brow. "Maybe two weeks, but I have him under so many sedatives that I can't be entirely sure."

He still hadn't seen anything more than her eyes and mouth. She never removed any of her white gear.

A thunderclap echoed across the walls of the maelstrom as Lucifer rose to his feet.

"What was that?" Michael said.

"You mean you don't know?" Lucifer asked.

"Order just rejected something violently," Sariel said. "We need to get moving, and now."

Lucifer and Sariel grabbed the handles on the litter and pulled hard, causing Batarel to moan softly as the bundle moved forward. Beside them, a great ball of light glided under the skin of the vortex, and all around it the pattern fought and attacked the luminous, crackling orb.

"What the hell was that?" Lucifer asked.

"I've never seen it before," Michael said.

"Keep moving," Sariel said.

They picked up their pace, and nothing happened for another ten minutes. Then another thunderclap sounded.

"I saw their faces that time," Michael said.

"Whose?" Sariel asked.

"Demons."

"The Council?"

"I didn't get a chance to ask them," Michael replied moodily as he flexed his hands and allowed the group to pass him.

"They're risking a lot teleporting their bolts here," Sariel said.

"What are they trying to do?" Lucifer asked.

"Preventing a lot of knowledge from falling into the hands of the enemy," Sariel said. "Keep moving."

"What do they think our uncle would tell the angels?"

"I don't know," Sariel said. "Every weakness the Council has. Exactly where to hit and the pressure required. Who knows what Batarel will be like or what side he will take when he is reborn? I have no idea how this Hall of Souls thing works, and neither does the Council. Too many unknowns here for them to tolerate the risk."

"I don't think Jehovah cares about that information," Michael said. "The Council will fall one way or another."

"Doesn't mean they won't try, though," Sariel said before flinching as a loud rumble rolled over them. "Get ready for another chaos bolt!"

Lucifer backpedaled as the bolt appeared a few hundred feet behind them. This time, it was on target.

"We need a shield!" Lucifer screamed.

Michael filled the vortex with a thin bubble. The offensive magic screamed as it met the barrier, but the conjured bolt was so powerful that it pushed on through the shield. Luckily, it was enough to deflect the comet-like orb into the walls.

"We're going to need something stronger than that," Lucifer said.

"I'm doing the best that I can," Michael said. "I may be a creature of Order, but this vortex affects me too."

"Don't look at me." Sariel said, shrugging. "I'm useless in this environment. Put me in the room behind those wizards, though, and it's over."

"Yeah," Michael said. He muttered something under his breath and looked at Batarel.

Another sonic boom, and Lucifer saw the four wizards this time through their conjured portal.

Michael spun about with a furrowed brow, hands at the ready. As the portal grew brighter from the incoming artillery, Michael pushed a shield into it, and then loud screams momentarily drowned out the whooshing of the vortex. But as the shield forced its way farther into the portal, it became impervious even to sound.

"What did you do?" Sariel asked.

"He just sealed the portal," Lucifer said. "I think they were sending another bolt."

Sariel chuckled. "Ricocheted back to them, didn't it? Did you see it?"

Michael nodded. "I saw the whole thing. I think it destroyed a large section of the High Council chambers."

"Well done!" Lucifer said. "They shouldn't be trying that again."

"I don't think they'll be trying much of anything ever again."

"You did the right thing."

Michael returned to the front of the litter and grabbed a handle. "I don't think Jehovah would want me destroying souls."

They rested very little that day or any other day for the next couple of weeks. Anne would often feed her father sedatives and a cocktail of antibiotics, coagulants and other medicines while running alongside him, and Lucifer and Sariel learned how to vomit as they ran without hunching over.

And then one day, Michael slowed down, and the next day, they actually rested.

"What's going on?" Lucifer asked.

"I've heard from Jehovah," Michael said. "We're deep enough into the pattern that resurrection is possible. We've made it."

Sariel breathed a sigh of relief. Anne did, too. Lucifer, however, grunted as he looked into his uncle's face. Had they saved the wizard or doomed him? And would Jehovah expect thanks either way?

Gratitude was the last thing Lucifer would ever give to that demon, angel, or whatever. Because of Jehovah, Lucifer had lost his freedom for hundreds of thousands of years. His father and mother had been taken from him. His succession was now in jeopardy, and there was no doubt that Batarel would have never been in that Coliseum had there not been a coup in Alurabum caused by the death-ray aimed at Chaos.

As they began moving once again, Lucifer grabbed a cloth loop in one hand and summoned one of his zinanbar blades with the other. When Michael gave him a puzzled look, Lucifer stared right back while he sliced at the air with his sword. If Jehovah expected gratitude, he was in for a rude awakening.

***

The group came to a stop at the vortex exit, and Lucifer could see stars and a large, green and blue planet through the portal.

"We should bubble him just to be safe," Michael said. It was more of a statement than a request for input.

"I'm surprised you care," Lucifer replied.

Michael bent over Batarel and started the magical work of surrounding Batarel with a thin shield that trapped atmosphere from the tunnel around him.

"What is Jehovah going to do with him?" Lucifer asked.

Michael clapped his hands against his legs. "How am I supposed to know? I'm sure he'll be given the same choice everyone else gets."

"And what's that?"

"If you're so desperate to find out, summon a sword and fall on it."

Lucifer felt his sword hand twitch at his brother's attitude.

"So, if someone dies right here, they're just reborn somewhere else and that's that?"

"Eventually, yeah."

"And that planet there is the new Earth?"

"No," Michael said in a condescending tone. "Earth is not the center of the pattern. It's just a planet. That's New Eden."

Lucifer had had enough. He summoned a sword and plunged it into Michael's chest before kicking him through the portal.

"Lucifer!" Anne pointed a finger in his face. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Relax," Lucifer said, sheathing his sword. "I've killed him here before."

He turned toward the portal and found a knife pressed against his throat.

"You cause my father any more pain than is necessary here, and I'll see you join your brother."

Lucifer batted the blade aside and glared at her. "This is unfamiliar space deep inside of enemy territory, and I'm on edge. Keep your blades to yourself."

"Yes, sir," Anne squinted at him through her soiled headgear.

"If that's New Eden, then Jehovah is probably down there with the rest of the Intellectuals. Let's wing up. Anne, would you mind carrying your father down to the planet surface?"

She coughed uncomfortably.

"What?"

"I don't... I don't have wings."

Lucifer looked her up and down. "Batarel's daughter, and you don't have wings?"

She put one hand on her hip and flipped a dagger in the other.

Lucifer turned his palms upward and tried to be as delicate as possible. "I'm just confused about how a greater demon could have a child without wings."

"Look," she said. "I'm tired, I'm absolutely filthy, I'm in need of a hot bath and some sleep, and I could use a lift down to that planet."

"I've got our uncle," Sariel said as he grabbed a handle through the bubble shield and leapt through the portal.

Lucifer pushed his wings through his sweat-stained red pinstripe suit and extended his hand. "Well, I guess that means you're with me, then."

"You're a real gentlemen," she said sarcastically.

She moved to his side and put her arms around his neck before mounting his back. He took the weight with ease, but he choked slightly as the smell of weeks of caked-on sweat reached his nostrils. He buried his face into his shoulder to try to escape the odor, but then realized he was just as fragrant.

"I guess we could both use a shower," he said, carrying her to the exit.

"I noticed that."

The vortex offered very little resistance to his wings, and he flailed around trying to find a small local foothold on an asteroid. Meanwhile, sheets of ice crept over their bodies as the frigid vacuum of space blanketed them. Anne squeezed him hard and dug her face into his back.

He slammed his wings into a decent-sized asteroid and flung them toward the center of New Eden. The planet grew larger, and before long, air entered his lungs again. He felt Anne's chest filling with the same stuff.

"Land at the edge of that lake over there," she commanded him.

"But I can see a huge city on the horizon. That's where Jehovah will be."

"We smell like crap, Lucifer. You've already killed one of their angels. Do you really want to mortally insult them with our stink?"

"I don't think Chaos and Order can be more at war at the moment."

"Just land."

They passed Sariel, and Lucifer motioned for him to follow. Instead, he apparated to the lake, laid Batarel on the ground, and stripped as he ran into the lake.

Lucifer drifted down toward a nearby beach, but he was apparently too slow for Anne. Articles of clothing were pushed into his face before she kicked off of his shoulders. He turned around just in time to see her red hair, exposed breasts, and thighs plunging into the water.

Lucifer checked on Batarel before taking off his suit. He carefully worked his cufflinks and checked the state of the seams and lapel. Lantomine's perfect three-piece was in need of some maintenance.

"I'll be damned," Sariel said, splashing in the water behind him. "You're an elf."

Lucifer swiveled to find Anne walking out of the water and collecting her armor and cape, which she had pressed into his face moments ago. Her toned muscles shimmered against the cool air, and she wrung her sopping red hair onto the white leather straps and metal plates.

"My gear needs a bath too," she explained.

Lucifer's eyes were nowhere near her gear. Sariel chuckled as Lucifer watched her bending over.

"It's impolite to stare, Mr. Crown Prince," she reminded him. "I may be an elf, but I've lived most of my adulthood under demon rules and taboos."

"Those are going to be among the first to go when I get back." Lucifer said, grinning. "I assure you."

"Until that time," she said, raising an eyebrow, "would you mind fetching me some nice-smelling flowers? I'm afraid a simple rinse isn't going to be enough for a diplomatic introduction."

He tried not to imagine her rubbing flowers all over herself, but that just made it worse.

She giggled. "I guess you can't blame it on a whorehouse this time..."

"Nope," he said, laughing uncomfortably. "This one's all you."

"I'll try to take that as a compliment."

"I'll um... go get those flowers."

"What a gentleman!"

Lucifer walked past his naked, laughing brother, who was doubled over and wiping mirthful tears from his face.

"Oh man, I needed that," Sariel said.

"Glad I could help," Lucifer said.

He sniffed some colorful foliage near the edge of the beach. The purple ones had a very pleasing fragrance. He picked one and held it above his head.

"These are nice," he shouted.

"Really?" Anne asked from right behind him.

He stumbled as she playfully pushed him aside and pressed her face into the blossoms.

"These do smell good," she said before plucking two of them and wrapping the stems around her elongated ears. "How do I look?"

He was so embarrassed at this point that he thought it best to just nod. Words would only dig him into a deeper hole.

She smiled and looked down suggestively, and his brother burst into enthusiastic, breathless bouts of laughter once more.

Lucifer squinted at him before picking him up with two wings and launching him at the center of the lake. Sariel's giggling drifted back along the waves before he disappeared under the surface.

Lucifer sighed and walked into the water for the first time. He welcomed the silence as the crashing surf pulled him under. He mingled with curious fish and wildlife before lying down with fresh water kelp and crawdads that scurried in various directions.

For thirty minutes, he escaped and tried to mentally prepare himself for his upcoming meeting with Jehovah—the first since Lucifer ran him through with a sword in the old Eden, before becoming imprisoned on that primitive rock. And he'd be doing it without an experienced wizard in the heart of Jehovah's seat of power. He had no bargaining chips: no new knowledge to trade, and no armies waiting in the wings. Just a couple of swords, the remnants of the most powerful sorcerer in the multiverse, and his obnoxious apprentice. Oh, and a sexy, naked elf who was probably Elandril's long-lost sister, saved from the Council by Batarel.

He scrubbed his body with kelp while he thought about Anne. An elven princess? Maybe he did have cards to play on the multiverse table—though nothing he could use on Jehovah.

He resurfaced to find Anne rubbing flowers on his brother's back.

"That was the sexiest, most manliest flower I could find," Sariel explained.

"Sure, it was," Lucifer said as he watched Anne massage the petals into Sariel's shoulders.

She returned the stare.
Chapter 17

Meeting with Jehovah

Lucifer walked rather than flew into New Eden so the inhabitants would have plenty of opportunity to see him coming. Anne and Sariel followed him closely, each pulling Batarel's stretcher.

"What's up with that?" Sariel asked, pointing toward the fifty foot outer wall.

They were still about a mile out, but the wall was alive with fungi, moss, and vines.

"Maybe they've moved the capital," Lucifer said. "Or maybe, like on Earth, Jehovah found a reason to smite this Eden down as well."

"I don't think so," Anne said. "There are guards on top of the walls."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Of course, I'm right."

He walked within hailing distance, but he found little need to call to the guards. The overgrowth had fastened the gates open, and besides, the guards were not human and varied greatly in height, fur, and scales. There was no telling which language he should even try to greet them with, assuming they were using an established one. As he walked through the vine-propped gates, two humans approached the group.

A chestnut-haired, middle-aged man dressed in a brown and green robe bowed low before them. The blonde woman beside him wore similar colors, but with a white undershirt that emphasized her cleavage, and tight-fitting pants that accentuated her curves.

"I trust your journey was pleasant enough, all things considered," the man said.

"Most of us made it," Lucifer said with a straight face.

"Yes," the man said. "Your brother sends his regards."

"Now I know you're lying."

"Most certainly."

"Hi," the woman beside him said. "My husband is rude. I'm Gaea."

"Gaea?" Sariel exclaimed. "Like _the_ Gaea? Jehovah's wife?"

She nodded and smiled winsomely before tracing a hand around Jehovah's shoulders. "Doesn't he look great? And if I get tired of this one, I can just push him off a balcony."

"You know," Jehovah complained. "When I spent millions of years holed up in a library studying how to create a reincarnation mechanism, it wasn't just so you would have an excuse to kill me whenever you wanted a different body to fool around with."

"Really? Then why even make it?"

Jehovah shook his head and appealed to Lucifer and Sariel, but they nodded like she had a valid point.

Gaea hugged Jehovah and scrunched up her nose at the two brothers. She beckoned Anne to follow her and giggled as she whispered something in the elf's ear. "Girl talk, gentlemen. You'll just have to excuse us."

Anne looked back at Lucifer and smiled before skipping off with Gaea amongst the trees and the foliage-covered buildings.

"I can see why you keep her around," Lucifer said. "Never a dull moment."

"Ditto, I'm sure."

"Who? Anne? No, no, no. That's Batarel's daughter."

"Right..." Jehovah said. "Should we talk business then?"

"What business do we have together?"

Jehovah clapped his hands and two furry, five-foot tall creatures scampered over to Batarel. They both grabbed a side and hoisted the groaning wizard onto their shoulders.

"I'm going with them," Sariel said.

"I'm sure Batarel will be fine," Lucifer said, trying to indicate with his eyes that he didn't want to be left alone with Jehovah, but Sariel followed the stretcher anyway.

"Walk with me," Jehovah said.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Everyone has a choice, but sometimes all options lead to the same conclusion."

Lucifer gave Jehovah a good seven or eight feet of buffer room, and his military mind kicked into high gear. He was trillions of light years into a hostile pattern, his closest wizard adviser was dying, his brother Sariel was being useless again, he was surrounded by hundreds of clawed and fanged guards who barked and growled at him constantly, and he absolutely hated pretentious scientists.

Consequently, he had rarely talked to his cousin Jehovah. Not that he hadn't tried to make conversation with the academic; he just found Jehovah wordy, elitist, and condescending. Of course, that was years before his marriage to Gaea, and for all Lucifer knew, Jehovah might be a completely changed demon, angel, or whatever.

They stopped in front of a stone building that was just as plant-infested as everything else in the city.

"I can create and destroy worlds," Jehovah said, "but she won't let me decorate them."

"Does it really bother you?"

"No. She stays out of my lab. I stay out of her nature reserves."

"Sounds like a good compromise."

"My lab is significantly smaller than the rest of the universe."

"Good point," Lucifer said, chuckling politely.

Jehovah grabbed a root that had displaced a few stones in the wall. "Most call her Mother Nature because she's always encouraging natural processes, even if they don't make sense. She wouldn't deny this plant from growing, even if it meant destroying such a fine building that I toiled at for years."

"Didn't you spend years on that plant as well?"

"No," Jehovah said. "It grows fine all by itself—one of the benefits of building a stable universe that is for-the-most-part self-sustaining. It frees me up to do other things. Like construct this granary store or guide the formation of a galaxy out of dispersed gases. I chose not to fight these little battles with her because what is this plant or this building over a billion years?"

"Just something that decays naturally in a much shorter time, I guess," Lucifer said.

"Right. Not worth my time investment."

"Are we really talking about a building here?"

"Nope."

Lucifer tried to think of a connection that Gaea's meddling could have with himself and Jehovah. But he barely knew Jehovah, and he knew Gaea even less.

"Why do I feel like an insect under a microscope?"

Jehovah put his hands behind his back and continued walking. "Maybe it's time for you to get behind the lens instead of in front of it. Let's go to my lab."

"OK," Lucifer said. "Lead the way."

A contingent of guards came down from the wall and followed them, but Jehovah waved them off. "I'll be fine. Do me a favor, though, and keep the clone lab doors open in the west wing."

"What are you going to show me?" Lucifer asked.

"What you are up against."

Jehovah hadn't changed a bit. Lucifer tried not to be insulted and struggled to keep his mind open to what Jehovah might have to say.

They walked over cobblestones to a large building at the center of the city. Unlike the other stone structures around town, this one was mostly metal and had far less overgrowth.

"The lab." Jehovah waved his hand as he pushed the doors inward.

The interior was pitch black until Lucifer took a few steps toward the sound of Jehovah's retreating sandals. Lights flickered across filtered water in gigantic aquariums, and where there wasn't light, there were monstrous forms swimming about and tracking Lucifer through the glass.

"What are these?"

"Experiments."

More cages and more mutated beings. Lucifer's feet echoed loudly against the granite walls and floors. The scaly guard Jehovah had given instructions to outside the lab was waiting at an elevator. It hissed something to Jehovah.

"Thank you. Now, make sure all of your men stay outside, and stay away from the monitors. Do you understand?"

It nodded its reptilian head and bumped into Lucifer as it passed him on its way back to the entrance. Jehovah walked into the elevator, and Lucifer slipped in behind him as the doors closed.

"Basement," Jehovah said.

The elevator hummed obediently, and Lucifer felt himself falling rapidly, just short of free fall. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was alarming. He spread his legs and gripped the walls tightly. The light buzzed past the fifth, tenth, and twentieth floors. The last button was solid. Apparently, they had eighty more floors to go.

"All of these floors are experiments," Jehovah said. "Some of them are biological. Others are advanced physics, including direct primal pattern manipulations in other dimensions. We're going to the bottom floor. There is a mixture of both there."

"Advanced biological physics?"

"Yes," Jehovah said. "These specifically have to do with souls."

"I thought that was what the Hall of Souls was for."

"The Hall reanimates an existing soul. Where we are going, I am creating them."

"I don't understand," Lucifer said, as the elevator dropped below the seventieth floor.

"In Chaos and the Elven Realm, immortals are created and maintained by the primal pattern. That's why you can go into space and frolic around with an elf without needing oxygen or food or anything like that. It's also why you can go faster than the speed of light by focusing almost unlimited energy into your wings. For an object of your size, the primal can sustain that kind of expenditure almost indefinitely, but when you're talking about millions of immortals being created and maintained, it adds up. The creation requirements limit a universe's potential."

Lucifer appreciated the info but not the tone. "We must have done something right, though, for you to feel this need to steal the immortals from other universes and recycle them."

"More energy for the mechanisms," Jehovah explained. "And I'll need much more to finish my experiments."

The elevator dinged as it came to rest at the hundredth subterranean level. Jehovah exited, and lights began illuminating the interior. The entire floor held only three containers. Two of them must have been over twenty feet tall. The third bubbling container was only half the size.

As Lucifer got closer to the glass surfaces, watery shapes came into form. Each animal was asleep and had dozens of cables and tubes inserted into its body. The largest one had smooth leathery skin with a cylindrical body, short tail, and stubby legs. The medium sized one was another lizard creature like the guard earlier, but with wings similar to a demon's and webbing in between the tendrils. The last one was all too familiar.

"This has to be a joke," Lucifer said, pointing at the smallest glass container. "That's a human."

"It's a human with a soul."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it can access the primal pattern. It can travel in space. It doesn't die naturally. And you will have to fight it one day."

"I don't want to fight it, or you," Lucifer said, gritting his teeth. "I want you to stop attacking Chaos with your destructive jet and leave us alone. In exchange, we will never attack your universe again. You can conduct your experiments in peace."

"What makes you think I want peace?"

"What makes me think you want peace?" Lucifer summoned a sword and ran Jehovah through. "Because the alternative with me is remarkably unpleasant."

Blood sprayed across the glass and obscured the slumbering human. Lucifer sliced off Jehovah's head and kicked it across the stone floor and followed it to the elevators. Time to go.

An elevator dinged and a brown-haired man exited. He picked up the head and threw it back to Lucifer, who knocked it aside.

"The elves and the demons are a dying breed," the new Jehovah said. "Just like the patterns that create and support them."

He walked up to Lucifer and put a finger in his chest. "Your time is up."

Lucifer pierced him in the abdomen and slowly slid the blade upward. Both men stared into each other's eyes defiantly before Jehovah crumpled to the floor.

Another elevator announced its arrival, and the one beside it was called back up.

"Gaea can try to encourage this union as much as she wants," Jehovah said as he stepped out. "But it means nothing in the long run."

Lucifer raised his sword and pointed it at Jehovah's face. "What are you talking about?"

"Pick the union. Doesn't matter. You and Elandril. You and the girl. Saving your uncle; not saving your uncle. You all die."

Lucifer brought the blade down and cleaved Jehovah's head in two before kicking the body into the up button. Another elevator was on its way down. The numbers above the door said seventy-five. Then eighty. Then eighty-five.

"I'm growing tired of this game," Lucifer shouted toward the shaft.

Ding.

"Just wait until you start losing more of your legions," Jehovah said knocking aside Lucifer's sword as he crossed the elevator's threshold once more. "Just wait until you lose someone even closer to you."

"I care for my men."

"You'll care for her even more."

"Jehovah, I'm seriously growing tired of this. Speak plainly for once."

"What are you going to do?" Jehovah said, grinning. "Kill me?"

Lucifer shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah."

Again, Jehovah crumpled to the ground, and Lucifer kept chopping at the body until it was completely unrecognizable.

Ding.

Lucifer sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling as the fifth Jehovah came out of the lift. "Jehovah, stay upstairs. I have nothing left to say to you, and you certainly don't have anything worth saying to me. Just the ramblings of an egomaniac bent on taking over the multiverse."

"I'm not telling you this because I am taking enjoyment out of dying over and over again," Jehovah said. "I'm telling you this because I've seen all of this happen. It will happen. Period."

"So, now you're an oracle?"

"I'm an oracle without the cloudy vision," Jehovah said. "I'm directly integrated into Order's primal pattern. The future of this pattern flows over me like a river of time. The inevitabilities are always the clearest."

"And you see Chaos's fall?"

"And the Elven Realm."

Lucifer laughed. "A universe with a capital built of stone and roots is going to annihilate the most advanced universe in the cosmos? Really? And what did they do to you again?"

"The elves don't need my help," Jehovah said. "Their downfall was inevitable the moment Elandril granted you asylum."

"Then help me stop it."

"Why do you care?" Jehovah asked, leaning against the elevator opening and causing a string of beeps as it attempted to shut the doors. "You tried to snuff them out only a few million Chaos years ago. What has changed?"

"Chaos will change when I am on the throne. Of that, I can assure you. Besides, I wasn't trying to eradicate their universe. I fell for the Council's manipulations. Many of us did."

"Simple minds do that."

"You're intolerable," Lucifer yelled as he struck Jehovah down again, but the elevator's relentless assault continued.

Lucifer cocked his sword arm and readied a throw at the arriving transport, and as soon as it dinged, he let the zinanbar fly. Jehovah didn't get a chance to utter a word this time, and as the elevator doors closed and Lucifer sloshed through the blood- soaked floor, he heard the lift buzz obediently back to its caller. Meanwhile, the other one was making its way down.

Sixty.

"Jehovah, I'm coming up. Talk or don't talk, but I'm leaving."

Seventy. Eighty. Lucifer pushed his wings through the slits in his suit. Ninety.

The doors opened and there was Jehovah, leering at him as he leaned against the back of the room. "And what about your uncle and brother? What about Anne? You will leave them here with me?"

Lucifer's wings shot forward and slammed Jehovah from one side of the elevator to the other. "You leave them alone."

"If I wanted to kill them, they'd be dead," Jehovah mumbled as he slid out of the indentation he had just made in the wall. "Just as you would be dead if I wished it."

"Why wait then?" Lucifer asked.

"There's always a choice."

Lucifer rested his arms against the other side of the lift and pressed the button for the top floor. The doors closed, and his wings crawled against the interior and spread around the enclosed room. He retrieved the sword that protruded from one of the Jehovahs he had killed earlier. "A choice?"

"Join me or die."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "How many of these bodies do you have left?"

Jehovah pursed his lips and laughed. "After this one? Four. I prepped eleven."

"Good," Lucifer said as his tendrils wrapped themselves around Jehovah's body before bashing his skull into the wall repeatedly. Lucifer summoned his other sword as the elevator neared the tenth floor. "If you value those other four bodies, then stay out of my way."

But Lucifer wasn't so lucky. The doors opened, and there was Jehovah's stupid grin. Lucifer made it bloodier with a sword pommel to the face before finishing him off with another decapitation.

"Steer clear of me. I don't want to see your stupid face, and I don't want to hear any more of your hate speech."

The lights were still on and the monsters within the aquariums followed him.

"I don't hate you," Jehovah said as he emerged from behind one of the containers. "Your universe is simply doomed. I couldn't stop it now if I wanted to. Every path I look at has the same ending."

"And where are you when this happens?"

"I know what I am shown," Jehovah said. "The multiverse is bigger than you or I."

"So you admit that you're not that important?" Lucifer said, laughing. "That's a first."

"This coming from the royal brat?"

Lucifer split Jehovah's skull with both blades, coating a nearby aquarium with scarlet.

"Down to only two more bodies, psychopath! How about you just leave me alone?"

Lucifer could hear more sandals approaching him.

"It's inevitable," Jehovah said. "You'll die. Your pattern will die, and Order will be free to siphon all the energy from the two dead universes. Well, four if you count the projections."

"With so many new universes and creatures to play doctor with, you won't need any of these experiments I guess, will you?"

Lucifer's wings crashed into the glass cases, and a deluge washed over him. Fins and fangs scraped past, and he sunk his blades into anything that ventured within arm's reach.

"No!" Jehovah screamed as he ran toward the slain creatures. "My work!"

"Finally," Lucifer said, pushing Jehovah onto his back with a wing. "Some emotion other than pride and arrogance. You would scoff at me for fighting to hold onto my dying uncle, or for friendships with elves, but you would cry over dead fish? I guess even in your omniscience, you still didn't see that one coming, did you?"

A western door burst open and Lucifer could hear screaming and sandals stomping toward him. He dispatched the tenth Jehovah underneath him and the lights went out. Lucifer's wings illuminated the area around him with a soft glow, but the liquid now on the floor was reacting with the air and causing a fog to form.

Lucifer extended his wings in all directions and used them as feelers. The screaming and splashing and pitter-patter of sandals stopped, and Lucifer twirled his swords in anticipation. He pulled his undershirt up to his nose to block the pungent odor from the creatures.

"What's so special about these fish anyway?" he called into the fog. "Why care more for them than you do about the universe you were born from?"

"I don't care about these fish, Luke," Jehovah said from nearby. "I saw you coming just as surely as I saw you smashing my containers to the floor. So, I filled them with an unusual animal that emits a paralyzing toxin into the air. Even works on immortals."

Lucifer's wings flailed around him as he ran toward the exit. He sent a few tendrils in a wide arc around him, hoping to connect with Jehovah's body, but all he found was hard plastic and glass. More canisters burst and more scales and fangs poured onto the floor. He could see the light from the door, but his eyes were stinging and the fog was thicker than ever. Despite the pain, he kept his eyes open. No reason to give Jehovah an easy shot.

Jehovah appeared directly in front of him. "As I said, if I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

Lucifer's tendrils hit Jehovah in the chest and pinned him to the floor. As he ran past, he plunged his blades into Jehovah's torso. The light from the door grew brighter and brighter, but the stinging gas forced him to close his eyes.

He felt his extremities growing numb, but he willed his arms to obey him while he groped blindly through the greeting area. He felt drunk and disoriented as he stumbled over a mat and crashed into the door before rolling out into daylight.

The warm sun blanketed his face and forced him to smile. He waited for the door to close behind him before breathing in the clean air and rubbing his eyes. Since his fingers were covered in the same stuff that had burned his eyes earlier, he groaned in agony and was greeted with a series of clicks and unintelligible gibberish from nearby.

He had company. He used his undershirt to clear some of the gunk from his eyes and found himself surrounded by four fish-headed guards. He pushed himself to his feet with his swords and laughed at the way the fish men were grinning at him. If they knew that he had just killed a whole bunch of their god and several finned brethren in there, they probably wouldn't be smiling at him like that.

Lucifer put a hand on one of their shoulders, and when it sniffed his fingers, it immediately toppled over. The other fish-heads giggled at their dozing friend, and Lucifer put his arms around them to help support his weight, causing another one of them to drop, which only caused more laughter. The helpful guards appeared to hold their breath as they bore the brunt of Lucifer's weight toward the infirmary. He patted them on the back and tried to stay awake. Warning Sariel and Anne would be a lot harder if he was unconscious.
Chapter 18

Waking the Wizard

Despite his best efforts, Lucifer kept dozing off as the fish-heads carried him down the hallway. When he woke up, the colors would swirl all around him and make him nauseous. Every once in a while, though, a conversation would register.

"What the hell did he get into?" Sariel asked.

Fish noises. Lucifer giggled.

"Well, that was useful information," Sariel said sarcastically.

"What..." Gaea said. "What is that smell?"

"Oh, I'm glad you said something," Anne said. "I thought it might be these little guys here, and I didn't want to be rude."

More blurps and giggles from the guards.

"Is that..." Gaea said. "Is that paralysis fish toxin?"

One of the guards tried to explain to Gaea, but he breathed in some of the fumes and collapsed. Lucifer toppled onto the floor. He didn't mind. He couldn't feel anything anyway.

"He drugged me," Lucifer managed to say. "Well, he tricked me into drugging myself."

"That sounds like my man," Gaea said.

"What did you do to him?" Sariel asked warily.

"I might have killed him a few times..."

"A few times?" Sariel blurted. "You killed him more than once?"

"OK, all right," Lucifer couldn't help but giggle. His body felt weird. "I killed him eleven times."

"Lucifer!" Anne scolded him. "My father's life hangs in the balance!"

"He wouldn't stop insulting and condemning our universes." Lucifer tried to shake away the effects of the toxin, but it was too powerful. "And he kept threatening to siphon all of our energies or something. Do you have anything that can counteract this stuff? I need my faculties back."

He could hear someone rummaging in a drawer.

"This will work until I manage to find the real antidote around here," Gaea said. "I don't have a needle that can break through your skin. We're going to have to cut his arm with a knife."

Lucifer felt pressure on his arm.

"There we go. It will take a couple of minutes, but you'll come around."

"Honestly, Lucifer, couldn't you have waited until after Batarel's resurrection to pick a fight with the local god?" Sariel asked.

"I'm sure my husband had it coming," Gaea said. "He sees so much and it weighs on him; it changes him. Sometimes he gets so focused on the ends that he disregards the path it takes to get him there."

"Still, I'm sure three deaths would have made the point," Sariel said.

"He wouldn't stop coming," Lucifer said as he tried to sit up. "He wouldn't stop telling me that an alliance with the elves was useless, and that everything I loved would die."

"Sounds like he had eleven deaths coming to him," Sariel agreed.

"Don't mind him," Gaea said. "The future isn't always what it seems. Why, if I were to look at this scene before us right now but yesterday, I would think that Sariel had attacked his brother and Lucifer was dying, even though he is only drugged and drooling all over my carpeting. I can't see what my Jehovah sees, and I've never wanted to. I'd rather the future surprise me. It keeps me in better spirits."

"Where's Batarel?" Lucifer asked.

"He's in the bed," Anne said.

"Is he awake?"

"Of course not. Waking him when half his body is gone and he's no longer overcome with super-adrenaline wouldn't end well."

"I didn't think of that," Lucifer said, as his eyes began focusing again. The light from the open windows was blinding, but the shapes in the room eventually took form.

Anne was hovering over him and had changed into a similar type of garb to Gaea's—though Anne was far less curvy. Still, bent over as she was, Anne spilled out of her dress. She blushed as he looked at her.

Gaea giggled as she got up and headed toward the door. "I'll search for a more potent antidote. Make peace with your uncle. He departs for the Halls tonight."

"Tonight?" Sariel asked, his lip quivering. "He dies tonight?"

She nodded. "Jehovah has his talents, and I have mine."

She departed and left the room in silence.

Lucifer crawled on his hands and knees toward the four-poster bed and used one of the columns to pull himself to his feet. The white linens had been tucked tightly under what was left of Batarel's burned body, and his eyelids fluttered over rapid orbital movements. He made no sounds other than normal breathing.

"Did Gaea tell either of you how long the rebirth will take?"

"It could be months."

"I have to wake him," Lucifer said.

"What possible reason would you have to do that?" Sariel asked.

"I need guidance."

"He needs to die in peace."

"He will be reborn, brother. But in a few months, Jehovah may consume both of our patterns."

"What are you talking about?" Anne asked.

"Jehovah didn't divert the apocalypse to Alurabum to simply cause us an inconvenience. It's part of one of his deranged experiments. He seeks to enslave our patterns and use them as fuel for his Hall of Souls. He has created beings with souls and wants to inject more energy into his universe by stealing from ours."

"And what do you think Batarel will tell you?"

"Hopefully, he'll tell me how to stop the destruction of our two universes."

"Lucifer," Anne said. "If I wake him up, I won't be able to put him back to sleep. The drugs Gaea gave him were meant to last him through the night. I have an agent that will wake him but getting him back to sleep is beyond my skill set. I'm an assassin, not a doctor."

"We'll handle that when we get there," Lucifer said. "Wake him."

"Lucifer, please," Anne pleaded with tears in her eyes.

"He's the only wizard I can trust, and I need to talk to him before Jehovah has the opportunity to corrupt him. I don't ask this lightly. He's my uncle."

"He's right, Anne," Sariel said. "I was never interested in the quantum physics that drive the primals to project universes. I can burn the hell out of someone, but I wouldn't know the Hall of Souls from a hole-in-the-ground."

Sariel took a seat next to a window, and Anne rummaged in a purse that Gaea must have given her. She drew out a leaf and unfolded it to reveal a white powdery substance. She lay down on the bed next to Batarel and looked at Lucifer.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, please."

"I'm giving him a type of plant venom that will make him lucid. It will also numb his pain receptors for about five minutes. After that, I can do nothing more for him."

"I understand."

She hesitated for a second and then pressed Batarel's cheeks inward, causing him to open his mouth. She sprinkled some of the powder onto his tongue and then poured some water into his mouth to force the venom into his gullet.

The effect was instantaneous. Batarel's eyes wrenched open and scanned the room. He tried to sit up, but he only had one arm and it was pinned underneath the sheets.

"Where am I?"

"You're in a hospital bed in Order," Lucifer said.

"Why the hell did you bring me here?"

"You're dying, father," Anne said from her place beside him. "We brought you here so you could be reborn through the Hall of Souls."

"Fools!" the wizard coughed. "You should have let me die."

"So, you don't trust Jehovah?" Anne asked.

"No, I just know what he's capable of and where his priorities lie."

"Can you fight him? Can you fight through the Hall of Souls and return to us?"

"I can't even fight my way out of some dry linens," Batarel laughed before choking on his own liquids. "Anne... give me some more pain killers."

"I can't, father," she cried. "Gaea gave you a potent sedative, and I had to wake you with negeltu powder. If I give you anything else, you'll die."

"Batarel, we don't have much time," Lucifer said. "I met with Jehovah, and he told me that he will destroy the Elven Realm and Chaos and both of our primals. He saw the events in visions. The jet directed at Alurabum is meant to siphon away souls or energy or something."

"I know," Batarel said. "Or at least, I suspected as much. The deflector has stopped it for now, but we'll have to move the Courts. The jet will even siphon the zinanbar of the shield if given enough time."

"How much time do we have?"

"Jehovah knows more about that than anyone else in Chaos. I can't even give an accurate guess. Could be a thousand years. Could be a million. No idea."

"Can we stop him?"

"You can put a blade in his chest."

"I tried that."

"Outside of Order..." Batarel wheezed. "Anne, the pain..."

"I know, father," Anne grabbed his hand from underneath the covers and kissed it.

"How can we stop the fall of the Elven Realm?" Lucifer asked. "Jehovah said he saw it clearly through the Order Primal. Can he do that? What can we do to stop it?"

"There is no limit to what Jehovah might be capable of. You may have to convince him to stop his assault."

"I tried that."

"Try harder."

"He wants to see his experiments succeed," Lucifer said. "He's created creatures with souls, Batarel. He claims he has done it without needing the primal's help. He says it will make his pattern more efficient. Humans will become immortal. So will a dragon creature and some huge tub of lard."

"Save... th-th-the r-r-realm," Batarel said in quick bursts. The pain appeared to be getting the best of him.

"We'll need you, Uncle," Lucifer said. "Don't let him take away part of your soul. Fight it. You're our only hope against this god."

"If h-h-he's out of his element..." Batarel spat and slurred, "he's no longer a god. It c-c-comes down to you, L-l-l-uke. F-f-find a way. T-t-take back the throne and d-d-deny him the Elven Realm. He'll try to split the al-l-liance between the elves and the d-d-demons. Make the union strong." He lifted Anne's hand. "F-f-fight for our survival."

His back arched, and he screamed. Lucifer put his hand over Batarel's mouth and motioned for Anne to shut the door, which she did and locked it as well.

"What can we do?" Sariel asked as he came to the bed to help restrain the wizard.

One of the bed posts caught fire.

"Did he just do that?" Lucifer asked.

"I think so," Sariel replied. "We don't have much time."

"Uncle, we need you to control it, or you are going to burn down the room."

"It's worse than that," Sariel said. "Batarel is the most powerful wizard in the cosmos. If he loses control of his powers, it won't just be the room that is destroyed. We have to do something."

Lucifer looked meaningfully at Anne. "You said there was only one option."

"Don't make me do this," she said. "I don't want to kill him."

"You didn't kill him. Lord Phillip did. You just kept him alive long enough to be reborn in Order."

"Lucifer, I can't..."

"Hold him, Sariel."

"You've got to be kidding me," Sariel said as he patted down the flames that had appeared on his suit jacket and sat on his uncle's chest, which only caused more screaming. He tried to muffle him, but he looked to Lucifer when he ran out of hands and legs to use. "Do you mind?"

"Use your wings, doofus," Lucifer said.

"Right, right."

Lucifer moved around the bed to Anne and sat down next to her. He picked up the leaves and grabbed her hand from Batarel's grasp. His uncle appeared to regain his senses for a moment and stopped fighting against Sariel.

Lucifer looked into Anne's eyes and rubbed the top of her hand.

"He's all I have," Anne said.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Lucifer said.

"Don't mind me," Sariel interjected. "I'm just smothering a dangerous, unhinged wizard."

"Shut up," Lucifer said.

Sariel looked down at his mentor, who had stopped fighting, though pain clearly showed on his face. Batarel was looking at Lucifer and Anne. Lucifer nodded to him.

"My uncle believes a stronger union is needed between the Elven Realm and Chaos," he said. "A marriage would certainly do that."

"A marriage wouldn't be enough to convince elves like Routan," Anne said, smiling.

"A son then?"

"You have a problem with daughters?" Anne retorted.

"Not if they're half as beautiful as you."

"I'm going to throw up," Sariel said. "Or I'm going to burn this whole place down myself. I think the severity of my reaction is going to depend on how quickly you two end my misery."

Anne's head tilted, and Lucifer smiled as she rubbed her hands though his short brown hair. He immediately felt a burning sensation.

"Oh gods, the powder!" Anne said as she frantically reached for something nearby and dumped a potted fern onto his head. She rubbed it over his scalp, and the cool soil and water made him feel immediately better.

"I'm sorry," she said, laughing only a little bit. "I'm so sorry."

Batarel laughed, too, which was apparently a mistake. He coughed up blood, and more curtains caught fire. Lucifer leapt from the bed and used his suit jacket to pound out the unnatural purple flames.

"You have my blessing," Batarel howled, wincing as he formed the words. "You have my blessing."

"I haven't even asked her anything," Lucifer said.

"Blessings come before you ask something important, dear," Anne explained.

"Elandril will bless this crazy romance too, I'm sure," Sariel said, throwing his enflamed vest to the ground and pounding it out with a wing. "Are we going to do this or not?"

"Yes," Anne said.

"I still haven't asked the question," Lucifer said.

"Is everything OK in there?" a nurse asked from behind the door.

"Everything's fine," Anne called back.

"We could ask her to administer a sleeping agent," Lucifer said.

"It wouldn't work with the negeltu powder in his system. By the way, because I put some on your scalp, you won't be able to sleep for a while either."

"I'll have to think of something to pass the time I guess," he said, smiling.

"Seriously going to throw up over here," Sariel said.

He had stopped trying to put out fires that weren't within arm's reach minutes ago. A low temperature fire like this couldn't hurt demons or elves anyway. If Batarel started raining down chaos maelstroms, or channeling a chaos bolt, that was a different matter.

"Anne, will you marry me and become the Queen of Chaos, once I take my rightful place on the throne?"

"I already said yes."

"Doesn't mean I shouldn't ask the question."

She pressed into him, and they locked lips for over a minute. Lucifer would have kissed her longer had flames not singed his clothes. They broke from their embrace, and he panicked as he tried to think of a way to explain to Gaea why all of her furniture and drapes were on fire.

"Sariel? What the hell, man?"

"I got caught up in the moment," Sariel said.

"You're so lazy," Lucifer said.

Sariel shrugged. "I blame bad genetics. Welcome to the family, Anne. I mean officially and not in an adopted way."

"Thanks." She shook her head and opened the negeltu leaf. There was still plenty of powder left. "We need you, Daddy. We need you to start your journey through the Hall of Souls and come back to us. Find your way back to us."

Batarel sputtered and gagged on his tongue. She grabbed one of her knives and pried apart his teeth before placing the leaf whole in his mouth.

He grew immediately lucid and the pain seemed to ebb away. He smiled at her, and Sariel let him go. Batarel reached to her face and held her by the chin. "I'm so proud of both of you."

"Thank you, Daddy."

"Gaea has a warm heart, but don't trust Jehovah. The fate of our universes depends on the strength of your union. Our salvation was promised by the Arnessan oracles. That's why I've kept you hidden and safe."

"They did what?" Lucifer exclaimed. "Am I the only person in this universe who doesn't know what's going to be happening to me in the future?"

Gaea burst through the door and shrieked as flames leapt all around her. "I can't leave you three alone for five minutes, can I?"

"I'm pretty sure we managed well over eight minutes this time," Sariel said.

Gaea stormed out of the room and came back with a platoon of nurses who doused the furniture, curtains, and bed with buckets of water before a practical woman fixed a hose to a nearby sink and drenched the room properly.

Gaea strode angrily up to Lucifer and Anne and was clearly about to give them a good scolding before she noticed they were holding hands and smiling at each other. "Oh..." she said. She looked behind them at the bed and saw Batarel's closed eyes and serene expression. "I see."

"Well, I guess I've been wrong before," she said. "Sometimes, it's just a person's time to move on. Nothing we can do about that."

She took the couple's cheeks in her hands and squeezed them hard. "You guys are going to have such beautiful babies! Oh, I can't wait! I'll have to prepare a nursery."

"We're not even officially betrothed yet," Lucifer said.

"Oh, you just leave that to me!"

Anne hugged his sopping wet shoulder as they followed Gaea out of the crispy, tattered room. Sariel wasn't too far behind.

"Who's hungry?" Gaea called back to them.
Chapter 19

Wedding Preparations

Lucifer woke up with Anne's face nuzzled firmly into his chest. He kissed her head and closed his eyes before trying to go back to sleep.

"Anne," Gaea yelled through their bedroom door. "I have table settings for you to look at."

At least there was daylight filtering through the wheat-colored window shades this time. He looked up at the canopied four-poster and ran his fingers through Anne's hair.

"The woman never sleeps," Anne mumbled.

"Can this not wait until later, Gaea?" Lucifer called.

"Highly unlikely," Gaea said. "You'll probably be spending the rest of the day with your visitor."

"We have a visitor?" Anne asked. "We never have visitors."

"Well, the wedding is just weeks away," Gaea said. "You should expect old friends and family members to come out of the woodwork."

"Who is it?"

"After the table settings, dear."

"Go on," Lucifer said, showering Anne with kisses and drawing her first giggles of the day. "I'll see to our guest."

He playfully groped her toned body as she left the bed, and she threw a pillow at him before entering the bathroom. He rolled out of bed, wiped his face with his hand, and approached the door. Time to have some fun with Mother Nature.

"Where is this visitor, Gaea?"

"Main visitor lobby at the north of the town."

He struggled to remember which building it was.

"The one with all the vines and overgrowth?"

She laughed from outside the door. "Are you poking fun at my decorating style?"

He chewed at his lip and pressed against the oaken door. "I would never."

"Ask one of the guards," she said. "And tell that wife of yours that I'll be in the kitchen."

"Damned right," Lucifer joked.

"If you think that this thin little door will stop me from bending you over my knee and spanking your little demon ass, then you've got another thing coming."

"Keep talking dirty to me, Mum."

She opened the door and turned away like someone had thrown water in her face. "Put that away," Gaea said. "Nobody wants to see that thing."

"Speak for yourself," Anne said from the bathroom doorway.

Lucifer chuckled as Gaea closed the door.

"I'm in the kitchen," she called as her footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Lucifer turned toward Anne and smiled as she motioned for him to join her in the bathroom.

***

Gaea gave no indication of who the visitor might be, so Lucifer dressed in his elven-made red-pinstripe suit just in case it was someone important. The guest had been waiting for at least an hour, and Lucifer wanted to get to the northern visitor lobby as quickly as he could. He grabbed an orange from a fruit stand in the center of town and stopped to ask a fish-head for directions. He had grown very fond of them and had learned their language months ago.

"Where's Grawth?" he asked one of his poker buddies.

The fish-headed guard smiled and pointed to a nearby bathroom.

"Cards tonight, Sal?"

"Sounds good," the guard gurgled.

"Maybe without all that cheating you did last time?"

"You demons and your rules!" Salbrum yelled after him.

Lucifer pushed his wings through the holes in his suit and punched into the ground as softly as he could to avoid a scolding from Gaea. He launched onto the stucco and concrete buildings along the northern side of the main market and jumped from house to house. The rooftops would save him five to ten minutes.

He touched down in front of the domed guest building. Before he pulled the door open, he heard Sariel's laughter.

"That's not how I remember it," Sariel said. "And besides, it was you who ended up running butt-naked through the center of downtown Arnessa."

"Well, that's why we don't go out drinking anymore," Elandril said from a nearby chair.

He wore a nice suit and reclined leisurely, much like he did in the state room in Arnessa when he and Ganymede had fought Lucifer and Sariel. He had his blue-toned skin back since the coronation and held a glass of wine instead of a raging orb of chaos.

"We don't go drinking anymore," Sariel said as he gulped the rest of his glass, "because you're not around."

"I've been busy. Universe to rule. That kind of thing."

Sariel twisted his face in disgust and mimed a retching motion.

"Oh really?" Lucifer asked. "And which poor universe did they give you power over this weekend?"

Elandril put down his drink, leapt from the chair and embraced Lucifer. He looked behind him and then raised his eyebrows. "Where's my sister?"

"She's looking over table settings for the reception. You'll just have to make do with me and Sariel for a while."

"You guys are OK, but you're not much to look at."

"Hey," Sariel said. "I'm not the one that looks like an emaciated blueberry over here,"

Lucifer nodded in agreement. "Speaking of which, how did you get re-skinned so quickly? I thought that took thousands of years."

"Took advantage of a vortex where time runs incredibly fast. Only ended up taking a few weeks of elven time."

"They let you get out of town for a few weeks?" Sariel asked. "I figured you would be stuck to the throne like Dad was."

"The great thing about being a globus is that you can be in many places at once."

Lucifer nodded again. "So, what brings a singulus like you to a place like this?"

"Well, I'd love to see my sister. It's been over a million years, after all."

"We've been meaning to take a trip back," Lucifer said. "We're just waiting for my uncle to resurrect."

"Batarel still hasn't come around?" Elandril asked, looking at Sariel. "That's unfortunate, all things considered."

"What are you talking about?" Sariel asked.

"Well, as part of the restitution demanded of Chaos after their failed assassination, dozens of my singuli were allowed to stay in Alurabum to keep an eye on things."

"And they've attacked you there?" Lucifer asked.

"No, not me."

"What's going on?"

"There's no way to put this delicately," Elandril said, "so I'm just going to say it. There's been a purge of the Kadingir clan."

"A what?"

"A hunt," Elandril said. "A massacre. A whole series of them. Eranos has gone mad, and it's hard to talk to him. He doesn't listen to his counselors, and he mumbles to himself constantly."

Lucifer leaned against a wall, and Sariel got up from his couch.

"How many?" Sariel asked.

"I can't know for sure," Elandril said.

"Our clan compounds?"

"Destroyed."

"Bastard," Sariel said. "I can't wait to remove that demon's head."

"He's unhinged," Elandril said, "but more importantly, he's dangerous. He seems to have been trained in some very advanced magic. That's why I was hoping to talk to Batarel."

"What kind of advanced magic are we talking about here?" Sariel asked. "What did you see?"

"I've only heard rumors from survivors. I went to your familial clan home, where we spent much of our youth together. The site was gone."

Lucifer's stomach clenched, and he fought down vomit. "There were a thousand Kadingirs there."

Elandril nodded. "There's a huge crater there now. Locals claim that Eranos came there alone. Walked right into the door and then boom! Nothing left. Eranos stumbles out of the crater without a scratch on him, laughing like an idiot."

"How big is this crater?" Lucifer asked.

"Several miles wide. Killed a lot of innocent people. The demons in the outlying suburbs weren't even Kadingirs."

"Arc explosions rarely go a hundred feet without the pattern burst turning back in on itself," Sariel said. "Even with dozens of wizards channeling it and focusing on individual quadrants. We're talking impossible here."

"I know," Elandril said. "We've been running some tests back in Arnessa. My best and brightest scientists believe that this would require establishing a major conduit with a primal."

"Conduit?" Lucifer asked.

Sariel put his hands in his pockets and paced beside his brother. "Most pattern magic is based around maintaining a zip-line or conduit back to the primal to access raw energy. These transports are inherently volatile and hard to maintain. Elandril is saying that Eranos appears to be accessing a million times more energy than it takes for us to rocket through space faster than the speed of light. It's unheard of."

"And he's using this power to kill all of his opposition," Elandril said. "He even offed the Garrotes, your father's supporters."

"What did they do to him?"

"It wasn't so much what they did to him," Elandril said. "He claimed that they weren't supporting him firmly enough, so they were of no use to him."

"That's barbaric!" Lucifer said.

Sariel put his arm around his brother. "I'll see what I can do."

A thunderclap crackled around the room from so close that Lucifer felt his skin jarring against the rest of his flesh. He stumbled against the wall and saw that Sariel was no longer with them.

"Where did he go?"

"Can't see him anywhere in Alurabum, yet." Elandril said.

"Well, that's comforting."

A door opened behind him and the soft pitter-patter of a set of sandals and high heels approached them.

"What the hell was that?" Anne asked.

Lucifer's mouth went ajar when he caught sight of her. Anne was wearing a tight, red-and-black conservative dress and black pumps. She winked at him as she passed him, and he completely forgot the conversation that had been ongoing. Gaea waved and giggled as she bounced and clopped after her.

"Annie?" Elandril asked, bending his knees and opening his arms. "Oh my gods!"

"El-el!" She screamed as she kicked off her pumps and ran to him.

Elandril picked her up and twirled her around before setting her back down. "A million years..."

"Are you trying to say I look old?" she pouted.

"No, of course not," he said. "You're my little sister. What would that say about me?"

He pushed her away to arm's distance and scanned her. She smiled back at him.

Gaea pushed past Lucifer and gushed as she clapped her hands at the reunion. "You two are so adorable!" She lifted Elandril in a big bear hug before setting him back down. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you!"

"El-el," Anne laughed. "This is Gaea."
Chapter 20

The Mad Scientist

Lucifer led Elandril to Jehovah's lab at the urging of Gaea. Since the confrontation in the lab, Lucifer had gone out of his way to avoid the crazed god, but Gaea insisted that her husband would be interested in seeing the Elven King because Jehovah had spent so much time in Arnessa doing research before the creation of Order.

Elandril clung to his sister like she was a lifeline, and Anne was just as reciprocating. Lucifer gave them plenty of space and admired his future wife from afar.

"I take it you are satisfied with the pairing?" Lucifer asked as he tossed Elandril an apple from a market basket.

"My father couldn't have hoped for a better match," Elandril said. "I know that if he were alive today, he would be smiling down on this bond. He always dreamed of a stronger relationship between the children of Archimedes, and here we are."

"Archimedes?"

"Archimedes, the architect. Our father."

"What are you blathering about?" Lucifer asked.

"The Elven Primal was the first pattern he made. The Chaos Primal was the last." Elandril bit into his apple. "This is delicious. Are these apples everywhere around here?"

Gaea nodded emphatically. "We can go to the gardens and pick some before you return home, if you like."

"What happened to him?" Lucifer asked, diverting the conversation. "Archimedes, I mean."

"Jehovah came to Arnessa to find out the same thing. He had questions, but Archimedes never appeared for him. In truth, I have no idea where he is. Every once in a while, someone will go on the news and claim they were abducted by him, or we'll see a body fall from the sky and elves will blame it on him, but for the most part, Archimedes makes himself scarce. He came to my throne room once, just after the coronation, to report on the progress of some ancient prophecies that I wasn't even aware of. That has been the extent of my interaction with the Architect."

The lab loomed large ahead, and Lucifer fought the urge to put his wings into the ground and take them all somewhere else. When Elandril and Anne made a stop to point out architecture and plant types to each other, he waited for Gaea. "Gaea, are you sure he'll be OK with us stopping in?"

"Of course, he will."

"The last time I went into his lab, he didn't seem very receptive to creatures of other patterns. I really don't want him offending Elandril."

"I'll try to keep him in line," she promised.

Gaea walked up to a terminal and placed her hand on a sensor. The machine whirled and buzzed obediently and gears creaked inside the walls. Slowly, the metal door opened, and the party entered.

"Lights," Gaea commanded. "Locate Jehovah."

"Ninety-eighth floor, room 9804," a voice replied from the speakers in the ceiling. "Current status: do not disturb."

She made a face to the guests. "He's always in that state."

Lucifer looked around at the now empty room. There were no toxic fish in containers. There weren't even containers.

"This room could use some furniture," Gaea said. "And some plants. Maybe an exotic animal or two."

"Just as long as they're not fish," Lucifer agreed.

She giggled and patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"We can leave if he's busy," Lucifer said. "Maybe see him at dinner or something. He would probably be in a better mood outside of the lab."

"He has been eating in here since before you arrived," she explained. "He's just going to have to get over it."

They slipped into an elevator, and Lucifer pressed the button with the _98_ on it. He flexed his hands as the elevator plummeted down and shifted from sole to heel to stretch in case Jehovah decided to make this into another confrontation. Anne slid her fingers between his and pressed her head into his shoulder, and he laughed at his own silliness.

"I'm sure everything will be all right," he reassured himself.

She nodded with her cheek planted into his triceps.

The elevator announced its arrival, and the doors opened. A small, furry animal in a white lab coat coasted past them on a cart filled with a silvery-white metal. A muscular, rhinoceros-like assistant pushed the wheeled buggy out of view.

"Which way?" Lucifer asked Gaea.

"Where there is a lab assistant in a hurry, you'll find Jehovah."

They turned down the hallway in pursuit of the furry creature and his companion.

"I said zinanbar, you twits," Jehovah's voice carried to Lucifer. "That's refined actinium. It's radioactive, which is probably a good thing. The chance of you two reproducing has been effectively cut in half."

"Jehovah!" Gaea chided him as she entered the room.

"Honey, sweetie," he said as he kissed her on the cheeks. "What are you doing here?"

And then he saw the guests and froze in mid-smooch.

"We can leave," Lucifer offered. "We can go right now."

Elandril offered a hand, and Jehovah accepted it. Behind Jehovah, a single water-filled container held a red human-like creature in suspension.

"Nice to see you again," Elandril said before breaking away and walking around the room to play with the contraptions along the wall. Lucifer joined him but kept an eye on Jehovah, who was closing his eyes.

Lucifer flipped a switch on a machine that looked like it was turned off. The lights didn't come on, and nothing seemed to change. He reset the switch location.

"What did you change?" Jehovah asked.

"I just toggled a switch here," Lucifer said. "It didn't seem to do anything."

"I'm not talking to you," he muttered. "The elf. What did you do? Everything's a void."

"Excuse me?" Elandril asked.

"Jehovah!" Gaea said. "You mind your manners."

Jehovah gave her a look that clearly told her to shut up.

"The future is gone," Jehovah said. "You've done something here. What did you do?" He counted the people in the room. "Where is Sariel?"

"He's entering the Council," Elandril said, apparently viewing the building in Alurabum through the eyes of a singulus. "That's odd. He's under guard... Actually, he's bound... They're turning my singulus away. I don't think they're pleased with my presence."

"That makes two of us," Jehovah said.

"Jehovah!" Gaea yelled at him. "You will treat our guests with respect!"

"Honey, they've just destroyed our universe," he explained before focusing on Elandril. "What did you tell him?"

Elandril shook his head as he struggled to remember. "Lots of jokes about olden times. And then I told him that the Kadingir clan had been all but eradicated by Eranos."

Jehovah brought his hand to his mouth, and Lucifer could see that he was smiling. Lucifer tried to fight down his fury.

"They've irrevocably harmed the Chaos Primal," Jehovah explained. "And the Garrotes too, I see. That's just plain ignorant."

Jehovah closed his eyes and steadied himself against the container. "Sariel tells the Council that Batarel is dead. Rabishu becomes furious. She doesn't believe in rebirth, and she knows Anne gave him the poison. They have a device: the _anur quppu_. They're bringing it here. It will destroy the pattern, just like the others that Chaos has destroyed."

He looked up at the container and summoned an assistant. "Tell Michael we have to prepare a preemptive strike into Chaos. Eranos is supporting the Council with at least two legions. I can't be sure, but the image is getting clearer as they come to the fringe of the universes at Bulger's Pass. That's where we have to meet them."

The assistant obediently ran out of the room.

Lucifer felt a pang of jealousy. How was he supposed to fight this kind of omniscience? He used to laugh at the humans on Earth for being in awe of a god that could but speak a word and create a universe. He wasn't laughing at the humans because these abilities were impossible. He found humor in their beliefs because the truth was far scarier than that.

This god could see the interactions of a trillion galaxies over billions of years. And he was so damned intelligent and gifted that he could make but a small change in a primal pattern or in the interaction of a dozen galaxies over billions of light years apart and effectively create a particular species he wanted, millions of years later. To a layman, it would just appear to be an asteroid hitting a planet, and sometimes it might even be just that. But for Jehovah, he may have just added a necessary amino acid to the planet's ecosystem 300 million years later which would one day result in human beings in an additional billion. Lucifer would rather face an opponent that conjured cheap tricks quickly or that improvised as he did.

But according to Batarel, there was a weakpoint—a kink in Jehovah's chain. If coaxed out of Order, he would be vulnerable again. His vision would become cloudy, and he could even be killed. And yet, here Jehovah was, proposing a fight outside of Order.

"In the heart of the Harpathian Vortex?" Lucifer asked. "You intend to fight the best of our legions inside a twenty-mile-wide maelstrom outside of Order?"

"Honey," Gaea said. "If our forces meet them inside that vortex, they'll be in Chaos. If they die, they'll be out of reach of the Halls."

Jehovah looked up at the container.

"Is there anything we can do, brother?" Anne asked. "Perhaps we could raise an elven army."

"There aren't any transports available from the Elven Realm to that area," Elandril said. "We'd be decades too late."

Lucifer slipped beside Jehovah and watched him for a reaction. "We need you to reincarnate Batarel. I know you've been holding back his resurrection, but he could help us."

Jehovah continued to stare into the vessel. "His body's not ready yet."

"You've reincarnated Michael in days," Lucifer said. "I know because I've killed him two more times since I've arrived here. What's the hold up? Put Batarel into a body. Give us our friend back. You probably need him just as much as we do now."

Jehovah closed his eyes again. His head twitched, and his jaws clenched.

"What do you see?" Lucifer asked.

"You're risking your lives doing this," Jehovah said. "You would be safer getting married, going deep into the multiverse, and having children."

"Me and Anne?"

"It's an available path."

"How many immortals can you put into the field?" Lucifer asked.

"Maybe twenty thousand,"

"That's not enough," Lucifer said. "There will be a hundred thousand in those legions. I can help you. My presence in your ranks will make the first legion defect. That is my legion. Bury this feud between us and give me back Batarel, and I'll give you a great victory to begin our friendship in earnest."

"His body is not done," Jehovah said. "Besides, it will be your feud soon enough. I'll have earned it."

More future talk. Well, Lucifer had a counter for that, too.

"You didn't see this attack coming?"

Jehovah glanced at Elandril. "No. There was interference."

"I'm an agent of another pattern," Lucifer said. "My presence here probably throws just as much haze into your plans as my future brother-in-law over there, but we are all entering a new era. If old enemies like the Elven Realm and Chaos can become fast friends, then there is still hope for you and I. End your assault on my pattern."

Jehovah diverted his eyes. "If you join the battle at Bulger's Pass, Lucifer, I'll give you the option to decide the fate of our universes and our allegiances. My path was set the moment I created the Order Primal. Yours will be set during this engagement."

"Anne," Lucifer said. "What do you think?"

"I think we're going to miss our own wedding," Anne said. "It's OK. I didn't like you anyway."

Lucifer smiled as he hugged her, and Elandril joined them. Jehovah turned back to the container. He put a hand over the face of the red creature, and Lucifer noticed wings inside the liquid for the first time.

"We'll postpone the wedding until after we get back," Gaea said, worrying at her lip. "I'll just have to send some messengers, reschedule the caterers, un-reserve the rental equipment, store the dresses..."

"I'll provide as much inside information about Eranos's plans as I can," Elandril said. "Even if it costs me a singulus. Consider it a wedding gift."

"But that's more for Jehovah's benefit than mine!" Anne pouted. "I'd be happier with a new set of armor: one with more zinanbar plating and painted blue, to match my royal heritage. It's time the multiverse knew where our allegiances lie."

Elandril kissed her on the head and turned quickly to the man in the white lab coat. "Jehovah, I assume you have supplies available."

He nodded but didn't reply. He turned around and squeezed by the two elves as he made his way to the door. Gaea started to scold him again, but her face became worried instead, and she chased after him as he exited the room.

"What was that about?" Elandril asked.

Lucifer shook his head and wiped away the moisture on the vessel. The creature was slightly bigger than a demon, but had two horns protruding from its skull.

"Elandril, come here."

Elandril pulled his sister along with him. "What is it?"

Lucifer cleared more of the moisture from the glass container. "Look at it."

"Scary," Elandril said.

"Look at the face."

Elandril and Anne pressed their noses against the glass.

"Now, imagine it with scars across most of its body and face," Lucifer added as he pointed at the head of the creature.

Elandril gulped and backed away from the vessel.

"You see it, too?" Lucifer asked.

Anne breathed on the glass, removed her black jacket and rubbed the condensation and smudges from the window face. "Father?"
Chapter 21

The Battle at Bulger's Pass

Lucifer squeezed Anne's hand against his chest as they hurtled through space and checked his shoulder to make sure he hadn't lost anyone. Several fish-heads, who were not accustomed to the cold extremes of extra-planetary travel, clung to each wing tendril. He chuckled at the way their mouth plates rattled together.

He pointed forward and gave them a thumbs-up. He could see the mouth of the vortex ahead—maybe a billion miles or so away. From here, it looked like a red, blinking planet.

He made a lifting motion to the fish-heads, which was his signal for them to move closer to his body so he could punch his wings into nearby objects. He didn't want to lose one of his buddies.

He managed to connect with a mile-wide asteroid and completely pulverized it. Better to use a small asteroid than one of the nearby planets. At this rate of speed, a small nudge could be the difference between a stable orbit and wobbling into the local sun.

He corrected his trajectory with more asteroids and wiped debris from his face and mouth as they spiraled through the space dust. Some of the larger debris knocked the ice from his body, but it slowly crept back across his skin.

The red, blinking planet was turning into the monstrous siphon that it truly was, and he felt Anne's grip grow tighter around his torso. He turned and kissed her frozen face before laughing at the grit left behind on the shiny, reflective surfaces on her cheeks.

A small correction with a planetoid, and their final course was set. They would be inside the vortex in minutes. Since they were essentially on autopilot now, he thought he would have some fun with the fish-heads.

He rubbed his wings together and the fish-heads fanned out, clawing at the blackness in swimming motions that did nothing to fix their wayward trajectories. Lucifer chuckled as he watched them panic. Nothing to worry about, though. He'd catch them after they were sucked into the event horizon.

He turned around and hugged Anne and extended his wings behind him as feelers for the rotating plates of heavier elements that formed in these types of stable vortices over millions of years. He kept an eye on the critters and patted a few of them into a tighter circle around him. They frantically paddled their way toward him but found no traction.

A slight tug and the hint of an atmosphere signaled their arrival in the vortex. He kept Anne close to his chest and turned around to see where he was going. The faint scarlet glow illuminated large rocks and a wide strip of slowly gyrating plates.

He grabbed the fish-heads with his tendrils and launched them at the only solid earth they'd be treading on for five months. As they came closer, the atmosphere thickened, and talking was once again possible.

"You look terrible," Anne said as she used the inside of her sleeve to wipe away the grime on his face.

"You're not so bad, yourself." He said as he grasped a mountain on one of the revolving plates and pulled them to it.

She pointed above them. "You missed one."

"Sorry, Sal," Lucifer said.

He yanked on the critter and Sal released a string of expletives.

"No more spinning," Sal spat. "I'm not a garment in the wash!"

Lucifer laughed as he retrieved Sal and rubbed his knuckles across the fish-head's rough scalp.

"Knock it off, cretin!"

Lucifer pushed Anne to his back again and wing-walked across the plate surface. He leapt over a mountain range and caught sight of an open plain—a perfect place to set up for the night. Just as he was about to dig his wings into the ground to propel them toward it, Anne pulled him downward by the ear, and his wings flailed around him.

Below him, approaching far too quickly, was a body of water. He felt Anne kick off of him just before he made contact with the lake. As he skidded across the lakebed, he was reminded of a chimney in Arnessa—their first date.

He surfaced, and she splashed him in the face. He dunked her, and as her head disappeared under the water, he was distracted by a high pitched squeal from the top of the mountains.

The fish-heads had apparently caught sight of the water as well. Dozens of them poured down the mountain, hands above their heads, giggling like schoolgirls.

Anne came back up for air just as the first newcomers splashed into the water. She wrapped her legs around Lucifer's back, and as she rubbed against him, he realized she wasn't wearing any clothing.

"You elves and your nakedness!" he said, kissing her lips.

She slicked her hair back, unfastened his pants, and pushed them down with her feet. "Please tell me you're not complaining."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

A few of the fish-heads surfaced near them.

"Hey, hey," Anne said. "You three find your own show."

Angels soared over them, carrying their own critters and paying no heed to the lake below. Meanwhile, Anne and Lucifer disturbed the water around them. He nibbled on her neck, inciting an occasional giggle between her soft moans.

They swam against a rock at the center of the lake and rolled onto an outcropping. Their naked skin dried in the sulfuric air, and Anne rested her head against his chest.

"You think he'll be there?" Anne asked.

"I'm not sure how I feel about you bringing up Batarel, considering what we just did."

She laughed and nuzzled into him. "Fine, how about something more on topic, then. If we have a son, I want him to be named Christian."

"Christian Kadingir?"

She nodded as a dozen more angels arced overhead.

"Christian is a good name," he agreed.

***

Lucifer paced impatiently in his command tent. Three months into the march, and the angels had insisted on waiting for Jehovah. His brother Michael was taking the brunt of his rant.

"He told us to stop," Michael said, white wings flaring behind him. "He's bringing something from Order. He says it will help, and we need to train the men in how to use it."

"We're falling behind," Lucifer explained. "If we don't pick up our pace, we won't be able to take the high ground before Eranos arrives."

"He's bringing a weapon, Lucifer," Michael said. "He's invented a type of combustible substance for this atmosphere and a synthetic compound that..."

"What?"

"He says he has invented a compound that can rip through immortals."

"You mean like zinanbar?" Lucifer asked.

"Except lighter," Michael said. "Light enough for mortal creatures to carry. Less mass. Just as deadly."

Lucifer sat down on the packed earth and rubbed his face with his hands. "So, now mortals can shoot us from ranged positions?"

Michael nodded and squatted beside him. "I fear we're becoming expendable."

"Has he shown you his creations yet?" Lucifer asked. "The creatures with souls?"

"No," Michael said. "But that doesn't surprise me. He stopped teaching us pattern magic years ago. Times have changed, and I guess the plans have changed along with them."

"And so have his promises," Lucifer said. "Didn't he snag you from us with the promise of magical training?"

"I'm fairly decent at wizardry," Michael replied defensively. "I just don't know how to push myself further. I want to be more useful to him."

Lucifer's frown deepened. "Were you like this before you went into the Halls? Wanting to please him, I mean."

"If you're worried about Batarel, don't be. He'll be given the same choice as anyone else. Accept Jehovah or live without him forever."

"Sounds like a cult."

"Maybe it is, but I belong."

Anne waddled over with Gaea in tow. Three months pregnant, and she was showing.

"How's my boy doing?"

"I'm not sure, but he sure seems to be moving around a lot." Anne blew a red lock of hair from her eyes.

"I envy him," Lucifer said, winking at Michael.

"Hello, Anne," Michael said. "You're looking beautiful, as always."

"Oh, you're a sweetheart," Anne said.

She started to sit down next to Lucifer, but Gaea stopped her before throwing two pillows down.

"Ground's too hard," Gaea said. "Be careful."

"He's an immortal child," Anne said. "He's causing me more pain in there than I can possibly cause him through all this fat."

"You look lovely, dear," Lucifer said.

She glared at him. "This is all your fault."

He laughed and put his head on her belly. "Listen, Chris. Some words of wisdom coming to you now from your dear old dad. One day, you're going to be seduced by a woman in a lake, and she'll blame you for the rest of your life."

Anne pushed him from her lap and made a sour face, but a cackle forced its way past her lips.

"Has he started talking yet?" Lucifer asked.

"He's not even out of the womb yet, you dolt!" Anne said.

"Well, I figured with your smarts, he might be an early starter."

"Oh, you're good," Gaea said from nearby.

A commotion reached their ears from the camps below, and Michael stood up and walked to the side of the knoll. He raised his wings and bent them into twisted shapes before illuminating them in a sequence.

"Who taught you signaling?" Lucifer said.

"I learned it at the Alurabum Academy," Michael said. "As a mid-tier officer, you are forced to acquire that kind of skill."

"I didn't mean anything by it."

"I know."

"Well, what did they say?"

"Jehovah's here. He's coming up."

Lucifer stood up and helped Anne to her feet. Gaea followed suit.

Not far away, a gaggle of blurps and gurgles could be heard, and Lucifer smiled. Apparently, some fish-heads were headed to the knoll. As they came into view, Lucifer noticed they were holding sticks and pumping them into the air. He started walking toward them, and Anne followed. As he got closer, he noticed that they weren't sticks. They were guns.

"Look at what Jehovah gave us," Sal called to him.

He pointed the gun into the air and pulled the trigger to fire a round, but his webbed fingers appeared to get caught, and the gun swung around, peppering the ground with bullets. Lucifer reached back with his hands, grabbed Anne, and formed his wings into a shield behind him. He picked her up and tucked her legs into him so he could cover her with his torso.

Dirt and blades of grass kicked up into his face as the errant firing continued for over ten seconds. He could hear a struggle and gurgled yells behind him, and then the crack of the gun stopped. Lucifer summoned his swords.

"Are you OK?" he asked Anne, who was grasping her belly and clenching a fist around a knife.

She wiped away an errant tear and nodded. "Yeah... Thanks to you and those wings being out front... Otherwise... I...," she pointed at her stomach and reclenched her fists. " _We_ might not be."

He put her down and began pivoting around, but his leg gave out from under him. "What the hell?"

He tried to stand but was unable. Underneath him, a pool of blood soaked into the dirt and grass. He angrily punched his wings into the ground, lifted himself and prepared for the worst.

He raised his left leg and put his finger through the hole in his pants. The wound oozed a fresh stream of blood. It had missed bone, and he had much better scars than this one would ever be, but as he looked down at his mate sobbing and imagined a hole like this being punched through her belly, he went into a rage.

"Jehovah!" Lucifer screamed to the sky before dismissing his weapons, crashing his wings into the ground and launching himself over the cowering fish-heads.

Jehovah was still wearing a lab coat and talking to a pair of assistants, and the sight of the scientists incensed Lucifer further. Jehovah and his minions had a habit of trying to kill, gas, or maim him since his imprisonment on Earth, and it was time the tables were turned. In Order, Jehovah was a god. Here in Chaos, he was just another wizard. Batarel had told him so.

He rocketed at the unsuspecting immortal, catching him in the chest with his good leg. They tumbled together down the hill past the assistants.

"You bastard!" Lucifer screamed over and over. "You could have killed us!"

"Lucifer," Michael called from uphill. "Stop!"

Lucifer kicked Jehovah into a rock, and the dazed god conjured a shield in front of him.

"Jehovah," Michael said as he impacted into the ground and rolled. "One of the fish-heads accidentally unloaded about fifty rounds into the campsite, hitting Lucifer and nearly wounding Anne and the baby."

"Hitting Anne and the what?" Jehovah stammered.

Lucifer pointed his swords at Jehovah. "You almost killed my future queen and son by giving those monstrosities to untrained men. My own friends opened fire on me."

Anne waddled down the hill with Gaea in hot pursuit.

Jehovah watched them get closer and shook his head. "But you're not even married yet. How is this possible?"

"You don't have to be married to have a kid," Lucifer said.

"Jehovah," Gaea chided him, "there isn't a single animal in all of Order that requires marriage to conceive. I would know. I watch over them all."

"No," Jehovah said. "I mean this wasn't supposed to happen until after they got married. The wedding never happened."

He stared at her stomach, and Lucifer moved in between them.

"Train your men and keep them away from my family with those guns. You've already taken a piece of me. That should be enough."

Jehovah chuckled as he regained his feet. "Attack me like that again, and a flesh wound will be the least of your worries."

Jehovah dropped his shield and pushed aside Lucifer's blade. He shook his head as he approached Anne.

"Where's my father?" Anne asked, still protecting her belly with a hand.

"He's on his way," Jehovah said, his eyes tracking her stomach as he walked past. "He was released from his container the moment I crossed into Chaos."

Michael wrapped his arm around his brother. "I'll make sure the men receive proper training once a day. This was an accident. Nothing more."

"Yeah," Lucifer said. "But I get the feeling it was almost a happy accident. Did you see his reaction to the news of my son?"

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it," Gaea said. "He's just under a lot of stress."

"Stress caused by his plans not coming to fruition," Lucifer said. "I'm just wondering why one of his plans involved my child."

***

The demons took two more months to arrive with their armies, and by then, the Jehovan army was as ready as it would ever be. Guns dotted the high ground on either side of the plains, and angel wings and weapons were pressed tight against the mountain, under camouflaged tents and brush.

Lucifer peered over the top of the mountain at the demons below. Across the valley, along the mountain range, he waited for the signal to lead his negotiators onto the field. He shifted his red-and-black zinanbar-plated armor and motioned to Sal and Michael to join him.

"Michael, look at their faces down there," Lucifer said. "I don't think they've stopped to camp in days. They look exhausted."

"Yeah."

"This plays into our hands," Lucifer said. "Give me five minutes in front of the officers of the First Legion, and I'll win them over. Eranos is obviously not listening to his subordinates. The first thing they teach you at the academy is that an exhausted army is a dead army."

Sal gurgled and spat in response.

"Yeah, but these guys aren't pulling triggers." Lucifer said. "You see the units with their wings held rigidly parallel to the ground? Those are shielders. It takes a lot of effort and concentration to protect a phalanx of troops from projectiles and wing-based strikers. And look at those strikers in the center. You see the ones with their wings dragging in the dirt? They're not supposed to do that. They're exhausted. What is Eranos thinking?"

"Maybe he has his own oracles telling him that timing is of the essence," Michael suggested.

"Or maybe Eranos is as mad as they say he is."

"Raphael, Uriel, and I will be providing the fireworks on our side," Michael said. "After you win the First Legion over, we'll be focusing on the wizards."

Lucifer nodded.

More of the regiments marched into view, and then came an ostentatious platform carried by wingless lesser demons. On top of the platform sat two demons in gilded chairs, one wearing a fur-lined robe and crown, and the other bright green battle armor with blades coming out of her arms. In front of them knelt a chained demon, and beside him was an executioner binding his wings.

Sariel looked roughed up and unconscious. His suit was in tatters and there was dried blood on the front of his white undershirt. Lucifer glared at Eranos before noticing the trinket hanging around Rabishu's neck.

"Is that it?" Lucifer asked. "The trinket there on her neck. Is that the _anur quppu_?"

"Yeah, I think it is," Michael said.

"Something that small can hold an entire universe?"

Michael shrugged. "Jehovah believes it's a real threat, and Eranos is willing to risk his best legions to bring it to Order. I would say that's enough for me to take it seriously."

"When I get back to the Chaos Library, I've got some reading to do."

"My brother?" Michael asked. "Turning into an academic?"

"Let's keep that between you, me, and Sal over here."

"My lips are sealed," Michael said as he put an arm around him.

"It's not too late to come back home, you know," Lucifer said. "Chaos needs you."

Michael dropped his arms to the ground and played with the dirt. "I'm committed to Order, Luke."

"Then help me convince Jehovah that Chaos with me leading it is not an enemy of Order. You're still my twin. I don't want us to be at odds."

"You've killed me like five times, now!"

"Yeah," Lucifer said, "but I knew you'd be reborn. I don't actually want you dead. I came to Order to avenge you—not watch you bleed out in a fruitless civil war between the Kadingirs. If my cousin and brother want their own kingdom, I can live with that. Can you?"

Michael nodded.

Lucifer searched the side of the mountain for Anne and saw her walking with Gaea. Her blue-and-white armor reflected the illumination of the scarlet vortex around her. She held herself well for someone five months pregnant.

Her eyes grew wide, and she turned to Gaea. She pointed at her stomach and made a kicking motion. Apparently, his son was performing some type of acrobatics inside her tummy. She smiled as she realized Lucifer was staring.

"You've been a changed demon recently," Michael said. "We should have gotten you married years ago."

Lucifer chuckled. "Sal, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, friend," the fish-head gargled a response.

"I need you to protect her at all costs," Lucifer said.

"But Jehovah..."

"As a favor to me," Lucifer implored him. "She's my life, and my son is my future."

"But surely, you would prefer someone with wings," Sal said. "I can only do so much."

Lucifer took off the armor plating on his left leg and exposed the scarred wound from the gunshot. "I think you'll do just fine. Have some of our card buddies grab a few zinanbar shields to protect against chaos bolts and metal weapons. If things get hairy, retreat. Keep her safe, and don't let her assassin instincts get her into trouble."

Sal saluted. "I'll do my best."

"I know you will."

He watched Sal scurry off and collect some of his scaly friends. They ran toward the armory and lifted some shields above their heads before scampering off toward Anne. She hugged Sal and rubbed him on the head before waving back to Lucifer.

Across the valley, a white signal came up. Lucifer gathered a few angels, attached a white flag to two of his wings, and motioned for them to follow. Time to confiscate an army.

"After the First Legion defects," Lucifer said to Michael, "let me move them out of harm's way before you open fire. I'll signal."

"Makes sense."

The five immortals left Michael and walked with their wings down the mountain. Lucifer could see the tension mounting in the demon forces. The officers in the First and Second legions would know that the valley was a compromised position. Training dictated an orderly retreat to higher ground. Unfortunately for them, both mountain ranges were occupied with gunners.

Rabishu left her seat and glared at him as he moved in front of the Chaos army. Eranos chewed on a fingernail and motioned toward one of his lieutenants to join the parley. Lucifer watched warily as Eranos barked and sputtered incomprehensible remarks to those around him. He really had gone mad.

A group of officers approached from the Chaos side and slowly wing-walked up to the Order negotiators. Lucifer fought back a smile from creeping across his face as he recognized each of the three officers from the First Legion. Sepu, the commander, was among those crossing the battlefield.

"Lucifer," Sepu nodded.

"Hello, old friend," Lucifer said. "Chaos is in need of an army."

"It has one. It stands before you."

"It sags in front of me," Lucifer said. "The strikers can barely hold their wings up. How long have you been marching without rest?"

"Two weeks," Sepu said, despite the coughs and protestations of the Second Legion commanders. "But they'll still fight for their king."

Lucifer smiled. "We'll see. Gentlemen, around you and situated in these mountain ranges beside you are formidable defenses. Retreat and you'll be spared. Fight and you will die here in this valley. These are the terms."

"Higher ground isn't enough to defeat a disciplined Chaos army, Great Prince," a Second Legion commander said. "You would need overwhelming numbers."

"Or secret weapons," Lucifer said, pointing toward the mountain range that bordered the First Legion. "Those hills over there are entrenched with a new invention, one capable of shearing immortal flesh from a distance." He removed his leg plate and showed his grisly scar to the demons. "They are very effective and cover the battlefield with death against any kind of attack or pursuit."

He didn't look at Sepu until after his statements were finished.

"We'll present your terms," Sepu promised.

"Thank you," Lucifer said. "I don't want to see innocent demon blood spilled here. Let's return to our homeland, where great changes await each and every one of us."

The Second Legion commanders turned immediately and began walking back to the pavilion, but Sepu and his two lieutenants remained. They each nodded to Lucifer before pivoting on their red and purple wings and joining the others.

"You think it worked?" one of the angels asked him.

"Yes," Lucifer said. "I believe so."

They hustled across the valley on their wings, and Lucifer turned around briefly when he heard Eranos scream.

"We are not turning back home," Eranos yelled. "First Legion," he pointed in the direction of the adjacent mountain range. "Second Legion," he indicated Lucifer's own range.

The platform slowly moved toward Lucifer. Time to go.

Lucifer evaded striker wings that pierced the ground around him, and leapt across the mountain range, drawing the chaos bolts from the wizards. He checked behind momentarily to make sure the Second Legion was still heading toward the entrenched position where Uriel, Raphael, and Michael were. So far, so good.

He crossed the valley, far out of range of the strikers, and kicked up dust as he sped toward the opposite mountain chain. As he neared the First Legion, the 50,000 demons executed a perfect phalanx, zinanbar swords and pikes pointed ominously at him.

"First Legion," Lucifer commanded. "Form up and mirror. Sepu, send a signal to the other side. All clear. Open fire."

A set of red tendrils shot into the air and obediently formed the commands to the positions across the valley.

"Strikers," Lucifer said. "Pin down the Second Legion. Nothing fatal unless in self defense. Shielders, keep us safe. Let's guide them back home, boys. Charge!"

The legion broke into a sprint, but the soldiers maintained their internal distances. A perfect formation. Lucifer galloped ahead of them, both zinanbar blades held in front of him. A shadow passed overhead. White wings and shielded. The wizarding core surrounding Eranos's platform opened fire, but the bolts ricocheted off the angel and into the wall of the vortex above.

"Batarel?"

But that wasn't right. He had seen Batarel's new body before they took off from New Eden. It was red and horned. The figure ahead of him was fair-skinned and brown-haired. It was Jehovah.

"What are you up to?" Lucifer asked aloud.

He tried to launch, but he was in range of the Second Legion strikers now. He fended off their tendrils with his own, but their impact sent him to the ground. He rolled wide right and tried to flank them. More wings and chaos bolts this time. He deflected them with his wings as his feet skidded across the dirt and metal of the revolving plates.

He broke into a sprint on three wings while the other five kept strikers and wizards at bay. Across the mountain range, gunners opened fire, and a thousand demons dropped to the ground.

"Stop!" he yelled to the Second Legion. "Go home! The battle is lost!"

But they continued forward. Lucifer looked for Jehovah and found him beside Anne. He was berating the fish-heads and ordering them elsewhere.

"What is he doing?" Lucifer asked the air around him. "Batarel, where are you?"

The fish-heads protested, but Jehovah swept them aside with his wings. Anne and Gaea scolded him, but he turned and followed the fish-heads out of sight, a red-faced Gaea right on his heels.

"Anne!" Lucifer screamed. "Get out of there."

But she couldn't hear him. A fresh salvo of wizard bolts broke his concentration, and he was forced to divert from his current direction and roll under wings and magical bombardments.

"Go home!" Lucifer yelled at the Second Legion, which was now turning around to deal with the perceived threat from the First Legion. "Go back to Alurabum and wait for my coming!"

But Eranos was yelling his own incomprehensible commands. Beside him, Rabishu stared into the mountain range. She said something to the King, and then unfurled her wings through slits in the back of her vibrantly-colored leather and zinanbar-plated armor.

Part of the platform splintered underneath her as her trajectory arced over the strikers and shielders into the mountainside. Anne, sensing her own vulnerability, ran toward Jehovah and Gaea.

"Somebody, help!" Lucifer yelled. "Batarel, we need you!"

Above the Second Legion, a monstrous green-and-black cloud formed. It churned and pulsed as heat lightning traveled across its great billowy face. Lucifer blocked another striker assault and launched himself at Anne. Rabishu crashed into the ground where Anne had been and wing-walked toward her target.

Lucifer was focusing on his mate so intensely that he forgot the rest of the battle. A striker connected with his shoulder and sent him into a spin. Another hit him in the back, and he impacted the ground face first. His shoulder pads lay in pieces beside him, and he groggily crawled out of his crater.

Screams came from the center of the Second Legion. The cloud above them was raining down tornados that targeted the wizards. Hundreds of cloaked figures broke ranks and darted back toward Chaos, but the funnels found and consumed them.

Lucifer got to his feet and launched himself once more. The strikers left him alone as the Second Legion was now completely routed and in the process of stampeding the platform.

Eranos yelled at them to stay away, but they were too panicked to listen. He pointed at them, and they simply disintegrated. After that, the Second Legion gave the platform a wide berth, and Eranos took control of one of the striker regiments.

Michael's angels opened fire on the wizards near the pavilion, and the roar of the magical bombardment sent lesser and greater demons fleeing in all directions.

"Stop, please!" Lucifer called to Rabishu, but he couldn't tell if she could hear him over the roar of the battle.

He clawed at the earth and swung wings wildly at demons and angels that ventured into his path. But Eranos's strikers launched a wing volley, and he was forced to veer between engaged combatants. He growled and snarled at friend and foe alike as they each impeded him from reaching Anne. Without his wings to protect her from magical assaults, she would be no match for a battle wizard.

"Get out of my way or die!" he screamed as he cracked a demon's skull with the pommel of his sword.

A pair of angels rolled into Lucifer and knocked him off his feet. The demon they were wrestling with lifted a sword to strike one of the white-winged combatants, but Lucifer's wings vaulted him back into the main body of the Second Legion. He regained his footing but was targeted again by strikers. He grunted as he tossed aside the wing-lock.

He ran on four wings and launched demons and angels aside with the others. When a surprised foot soldier raised a sword at him, Lucifer cut the immortal down. When a striker left his wing tendrils in an impact crater for too long, he was jerked into an upturned blade. As Lucifer bolted through and over soldiers, he left a bloody trail of carnage in his wake before punching into the air for a final lunge. He was so close.

"Anne!" Lucifer yelled. "Get to the trees! Save yourself!"

Rabishu turned on him and extended a clawed hand. Lucifer felt his body tense up, and his wings gave way underneath him. He crashed to the earth and flopped around like a ragdoll, unable to move a muscle.

He could see Anne, but he wouldn't be able to reach her. Not until Rabishu let him go.

"Kill my lover, will you?" Rabishu snarled at Anne. "You little bitch!"

"He's not dead," Anne said. "He's being reborn."

"Then why isn't he here?" she asked. "No... you killed him, and your life is forfeit."

"Leave me alone!" Anne said as she got to her feet and picked up a discarded pike. She jabbed at Rabishu. "I loved my father. He was dying, Rabishu."

Rabishu side-apparated the pike and grabbed it. She walked forward, but kept hold of it. The metal glowed red, and Anne screamed as she dropped it. Her hands were smoking.

"And now, it's your turn to die, my dear," Rabishu said.

Anne drew a dagger and hurled it at the witch, but Rabishu shielded and the blade thunked against the barrier and dropped into the dirt. Anne retreated with a short sword raised in front of her. As Rabishu's green shield disappeared, Anne let the weapon fly and Rabishu disappeared into a hazy mist.

"Get away from me!" Anne said.

She held her belly as she leapt backward, and Rabishu materialized behind her. The witch clamped her hand down on Anne's helmet and tossed it aside. Then, she vanished again.

Rabishu appeared to lose her magical grip on Lucifer, and he growled as he pushed into the ground once more. "I'm coming, baby."

Anne dashed toward a thicket of small trees, but the mountainside ripped apart in front of her, and searing heat blew into her face. The melted rock splashed onto Anne's armor and she threw aside an elbow guard and pauldron. As Rabishu's fist materialized in front of her, she tucked and tumbled underneath it.

Lucifer grabbed Rabishu with a wing and threw her at a crag, but she disappeared before she hit the jagged rocks. He clawed at the ground with hands and wings and called to his pregnant fiancée. "To the trees, honey!"

Anne got to her feet and sprinted for the forest, but Rabishu appeared in front of her.

Lucifer struck her in the face with his wings, and the witch recoiled toward the forest.

"You wait your turn," she said as she clawed at Lucifer again.

His body writhed in agony while he watched Anne rolling to avoid another chaos bolt. He impacted the ground hard and flopped out of his impact crater. He could see her desperate eyes pleading for him to get up, but he couldn't move.

_Run, Anne,_ he thought, _Get up and go. To the forest._

As if listening to his mind, she tucked once more and somersaulted into the clearing. Twenty feet to the trees. Another chaos bolt, but Anne dodged it. Five feet. Lucifer teared up as he watched Anne disappear into the woods.

But his hope was dashed in an instant.

Rabishu emerged from the trees, holding Anne by her hair and lifting her off her feet. Anne scratched the witch's face and kicked her assailant in the chest. Rabishu turned Anne to face Lucifer.

"Please don't!" Lucifer yelled. "She's carrying my son!"

Rabishu jerked her hand across Anne's jaw line, and Lucifer fell forward as her magical hold was released. He clawed at the dirt and rock of the mountain as he prepared to strike with his wings. But Rabishu was gone. He stumbled to Anne and cradled her in his arms as he tried to staunch the bleeding from the gaping wound in her neck, but the gash was so deep and long that he didn't know where to start. He sobbed as he pressed his hands against her mangled veins and windpipe.

"You're going to be OK, Anne" he said. "Just hold on. Medic!" Lucifer screamed. "I need someone. We need help!" He rocked her back and forth and caressed her stomach. "Think of the baby, honey. Stay with me."

Anne choked on her blood and put one of her hands to her neck and the other on her stomach. Lucifer kissed every inch of her face. He breathed in the fragrance of her hair and waited for Rabishu to strike.

"What have you done?" a deep voice yelled. "You insipid, stupid woman!"

Lucifer turned to see a red creature strangling Rabishu high above the ground. She grasped at the wings around her neck and her eyes bulged as she looked upon the terrible form of Batarel.

The tornados lifted from the plateau below, and the First Legion corralled the routed Second, guiding them back to Chaos.

A lone figure cursed at them from the platform. He raised his remaining hand in front of him and channeled a chaos bolt that roared up the mountainside.

"Eranos can wait back at the Courts," Batarel said as he flicked his wrist, and the bolt disappeared along with the conjurer.

Anne formed the word "Father", but the air escaped through her neck. Tears flowed down Batarel's crimson face.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "Jehovah wouldn't release me from the Halls. I got here as fast as I could."

Lucifer snarled at his cousin, who was watching them. Gaea was beside him with her hand to her mouth, sobbing uncontrollably.

"How could you?" she asked her husband.

"This is Rabishu's doing."

"You called off Sal and his guards!" Lucifer accused him.

"They were needed elsewhere," Jehovah said.

Rabishu's strangled protests came down, and Batarel growled. He brought his hands together and then slowly spread them apart. Above him, Rabishu screamed.

Lucifer looked up just in time to see the blades coming out of her skin. Her grafted flesh and bone followed along with them. Despite what she had done, Lucifer didn't want to watch her final moments. He looked at his uncle instead.

Batarel opened his palms and crossed his hands over each other and a rain of gore came down. He picked up his adopted daughter from Lucifer's lap, and she coughed as she put her arms around his neck.

"I'm bringing her and the baby back to Order to be reborn," Batarel said.

"No you're not," Jehovah said. "You're leaving her right here. She wouldn't make it, anyway."

"Jehovah!" Gaea yelled. "Stop this madness!"

"That child will be the end of Order."

"Worry about me," Batarel said.

He flicked his wrist and Jehovah disappeared. He turned to Gaea. "You tell your husband that if he blocks my nephew's rebirth, he'll answer to me."

And with that, Batarel and Anne disappeared.

Lucifer looked down the mountain toward the pavilion and saw Sariel making his way up the slope. He put his palms to his eyes and wiped away his tears. Gaea came over to comfort him, but he waved her off.

"I need to be alone," Lucifer said. "Your husband has killed me here just as surely as he has killed my fiancée. Like any other dying animal, I just want to find a soft thicket somewhere to lie down in."

"You are not dying," she said. "And besides, you still have someone to live for. Your son will be reborn. I'll do everything in my power to bring him back to you."

He stumbled to his feet and Gaea caught him before he fell back to the earth. His head swam, and he turned from her to vomit. After expunging the contents of his stomach, he noticed a shiny trinket in the grass. Amongst the mayhem and murder of the afternoon, the _anur quppu_ , a device powerful enough to lay waste to entire universes, lay forgotten on the mountainside.

"Destroy this," he said, passing it to Gaea.

She tossed the _anur quppu_ into the air and directed a bolt of energy at it. The metal frame melted as it fell to the earth before sizzling into the blood, metal, and mud of the mountainside.

"You've suffered a terrible loss," Gaea said, shouldering him again. "But everything will work out."

She guided him toward his brother, who was wing-walking to them.

"You'll see," she said.
Chapter 22

The Chaos Primal

The demons of the First Legion lounged against the floating stones and metal discs that circled the drains in an hourglass vortex between Order and Chaos. Even with his eyes closed, Lucifer could feel the eyes of his demon subordinates on him at times, waiting for him to give the command to leave.

Playing cards with naked ladies on them dinked against the larger ovals as men staved off their boredom. Even if only an hour had passed in Alurabum, three months spent in a vortex was still three months wasted in a vortex.

Sariel hustled the officer circles, depriving colonels of three months' pay. Lucifer never told them about the spare deck his brother stuffed into the nooks of his armor. He assumed these educated demons would catch the cheater eventually, or maybe he just didn't want to have to deal with the fallout.

To clear his mind, he isolated himself from the rest. He found an empty seat on top of a rock outcropping at the center of the vortex. Fierce winds tore at the loose fabrics in his black-and-red armor, and his wings whipped around him in the currents. He was waiting for the voice to manifest itself again. Back in the Harpathian Vortex, shortly after Batarel took Anne back to Order, the darn thing wouldn't shut up. Now, it was silent as stone.

"Are you there?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sariel said. "What's up?"

Lucifer opened his eyes. "Tired of taking the colonels' money?"

"The key to keeping a sucker in the ringer for three months is letting him win some of it back. Speaking of three months, when are we leaving?"

"After I make contact again."

"Right..." Sariel said. "You realize some of the men think you are crazy?"

"When you say _some of the men_ , I take it you're included in that bunch?"

"Naturally. But seriously, brother, projected voices in your head? Not normal. Highly abnormal."

"He said he was the Primal."

Sariel dropped to his haunches. "Excuse me?"

"He told me to come to this vortex, but he didn't say much else."

"So, let me get this straight," Sariel said. "A voice in your head claimed to be the Chaos Primal and not only did you believe it, but you went out of your way to follow the prank call here, where you wasted the time of 50,000 demon friends, too? You should play cards with us."

"Where would they have gone, Sariel?" Lucifer asked. "Alurabum? I think not. Eranos would have killed them. Even if this expedition were a waste of our time, this vortex is about as safe a place as I can think of when it comes to hiding an entire army. And besides, it gives us an eternity in Chaos time to think about what we'll do next."

"Thought of anything yet?"

"I've thought about punching you in the face."

"It took you three months to figure out that you wanted to clock me upside my head?"

"No," Lucifer said. "It's been a persistent instinct of mine since birth."

Sariel nodded in understanding, and Lucifer shook his head.

"Did the voice tell you where we needed to go next?" Sariel asked.

"Well, the army stays here."

"Until when?"

Lucifer picked up a rock and threw it into the wall of the maelstrom. "Until we get back, I reckon. We're supposed to find the Architect. I just don't know where to start."

_Seriously?_ The voice said. _That's what you are waiting on?_

"It's been three months," Lucifer said. "What did you think was going on here?"

_It's been only an hour in Chaos_ , the pattern said. _Still, that's fifty minutes too long._

"Hey," Sariel said, lifting his head to address the voice. "I should be the only person driving my brother crazy, here."

"You can hear him, too?" Lucifer asked.

"Yeah. I guess he's tuning me in as well. Or maybe I'm just a natural conductor for sarcasm."

A chuckle echoed inside their heads.

"Arghhh!" Sariel complained. "You're rattling my skull over here."

Sorry. Haven't been able to talk for a few million years.

Sariel scoffed at the air. "If you were really a primal pattern, no one could stop you."

There was no answer for a dozen seconds or so, and then they noticed the walls of the vortex morphing and a gigantic bubble growing near them. When it finally burst, a raging torrent blew the vortex apart, spitting the demons into space. The 50,000 members of the startled First Legion groped in the darkness, pulling wingless lesser demons to them and struggling to find something solid.

Lucifer tried screaming into space, but the lack of atmosphere stopped him from expressing his frustration.

Oops, sorry.

The vortex reappeared and sucked them inside. There were no rocks or metal discs yet. They would just have to reform over another thousand years or so.

"And we're the stupid ones?" Sariel asked.

Lucifer covered his brother's mouth. "Don't mind him. We used to drop him a lot as a child. It was great fun at the time, but after a million years of dealing with the consequences, we've come to understand the error of our ways."

I'm glad to hear that you won't continue the trend with your son.

Sariel pushed Lucifer's hand away. "I'll trend your face! You made me lose my cheat deck!"

"Your what?" Dantel, one of the colonels, asked.

"Nothing," Sariel said as he pulled Lucifer between himself and the man he had hustled.

"Come here, you little scoundrel!" Dantel yelled as he pushed Lucifer aside with a wing and snagged his brother, who cursed and kicked at him while Dantel punched him in the sides.

"They're your creations," Lucifer said.

No, they're not. Demons were conceived by Archimedes, as were elves.

"Conceived?"

Yes. His DNA courses through your veins. That's why you and Anne were able to successfully mate.

"But wait," Sariel said as he extricated himself from Dantel's grip. "Wouldn't that mean that Lucifer had sex with a distant cousin?"

Yes. And he's nowhere near your record of intercourse with your distant relatives.

"I had a really good time in Arnessa, didn't I?"

The primal chuckled again, but this time it wasn't as jarring.

"That was much better," Lucifer complimented him. "Nowhere near as uncomfortable."

Thank you.

"I'm going to be honest," Sariel said. "This whole conversation gives me the creeps. I'm not sure how I feel about a sentient primal."

Neither was the Council. That's why they silenced me. As is the case with most adolescents, eventually they think they know everything. And what they don't know, they try to get rid of.

"Hey, don't look at me," Sariel said. "I'm just an assassin. Need me to kill someone? Maybe a rival pattern?"

_No!_ the pattern screamed, causing all of the demons present to futilely cover their ears and shriek in pain at the voice that appeared to come from inside them. _My apologies. That's how we got to this point in the first place. No more pattern assassinations. Long ago, I thought that was what my father wanted. Archimedes told me he had created me as an experiment in Chaos Theory, and so I studied up on it by watching the processes inside me, and I enhanced them. Eventually, I started consuming and disrupting some of his other patterns. I thought he would be proud, but he was just angry. Hasn't talked to me since._

"Wait," Lucifer said, "if you can't get ahold of the Architect, then how the heck am I supposed to?"

I've been trying to dangle the child in front of him to get him to bite.

"You know, you're the second god figure to talk of my son Christian as something other than a person. With Jehovah, he was a necessary carcass. With you, he's bait for another god."

My apologies. Christian is the crown jewel of my existence. Archimedes is just an ornery, old horny academic who I hope will be happy with what we've done.

"What _we've_ done?" Lucifer asked. "As in you and I? I seem to recall that Christian was Anne's and my doing."

Oh, please. You think you'd really have gotten this far without my help? Without me, Batarel would have slaughtered Anne and Persephone right where they lay. Without me, you would be as dead as the rest of the Kadingirs, and we would all crumble away into the cosmic winds. If I had let you and your obnoxious brother die, even Jehovah, in all his madness, wouldn't be interested in us as a side project, much less trying to hook me into his great experiment. We'd be finished.

"What's so important about us?" Lucifer asked. "Chaos leadership has changed hands more times than anyone can count, and though my father did an exceptional job, the realm seems to handle change just fine."

Yes, because the Kadingirs have still proliferated up to this point. We've never seen a demon quite so mad as Eranos. He bathes in my projection and his imperfections corrode his sanity. Chaos is too weak to stand his rule much longer. I need a vessel of the true royal family. You, Lucifer, will certainly do. Your son, though? He would make me twice as powerful.

Lucifer puffed up his chest and beamed with pride. "My boy?"

When you can finally take him from Jehovah, yes.

"Batarel is working on that," Lucifer said.

Fool of a wizard! Just because Jehovah has put him in that enhanced body doesn't make him Jehovah's match, especially not in the middle of Order. Batarel will not be able to wrest Christian back to us. You'll need the Architect. Only he will understand what Jehovah has done and how to undo it.

"I don't want to undo Order," Lucifer said. "Jehovah must be stopped, but his wife helped Anne and me, and his creatures are my friends. You said you didn't want pattern assassinations. The Order Primal is a pattern."

It wasn't made by Father.

"Maybe the multiverse needs some diversity," Lucifer said, "and a lot less hypocrisy. I don't see a reason that we can't survive in our corner of the multiverse and Order in its own?"

Even after it schemed against you and took your mate?

"One creature does not a pattern make."

But one creature did make that pattern, and Jehovah integrated himself into his creation. The point where Jehovah ends and the pattern begins is indiscernible.

"Jehovah is the real enemy," Lucifer said. "You give me the power to kill him, and I'll show you where that line is."

We'll see. But first, find the Architect. If anyone knows how to reverse that beam of energy aimed at my main projection inside the Courts, it's Father. See if the elves can help you coax him out.

"I'll call on Elandril in Arnessa. I'm sure he would follow us wherever, but first, I need to know where to go."

If you call on Elandril, you're already there. Archimedes favors the Elven Realm. It's his favorite creation.

"Oooooh," Sariel said. "Not very good at hiding your emotions yet, are you? As a fellow runt of the litter, I can help you with that inferiority complex. You and I should go out drinking some time. I'll get you laid."

The pattern laughed again. _I'm afraid that's a bad idea. I don't mean to brag, but when we are at a bar, and I tell you that I would destroy that one, I really mean it._

Sariel put his elbow on Lucifer's shoulder and smiled at his brother. "You know what, Mr. Primal? You're all right. If I end up rebuilding the Council, I think I might go out of my way to leave you uncorked this time."

The pattern was silent for over a minute.

Sariel shrugged his shoulders. "Too soon?"

"I haven't felt a look of scorn that powerful since Anne was alive," Lucifer said. He smiled and closed his eyes as he remembered her face glaring at him. What he wouldn't give to even see her angry at him once more!

_Just get your asses to Arnessa_ , the pattern grumbled.
Chapter 23

Meeting the Architect

Lucifer touched down in an alley on the northern side of Arnessa with his brother. The last time he stood in the capital, he was mesmerized by the city life and variety of architecture, flora, and busy and interesting people. But even with the possibility of meeting the creator of his entire universe, Lucifer couldn't help feeling depressed.

He kept his head down and his wings tucked in as they passed the turn to Rosaline's mansion, where he had chased Anne over rooftops. He remembered the first time Anne and he had met; she with her knee in his stomach, and he locked on those green eyes.

The owners of the house had rebuilt the chimney they smashed together.

"What are you looking at?" Sariel asked.

"That's where we watched the assassins going into the Coliseum."

"Yeah, I guess it was."

Every once in awhile, he'd exchange glances with an emerald-eyed elf, and he would slow down and stare at her. When she noticed his rounded ears, she would almost always curtsy or bow and walk off, but one elven woman put her hand on his chest in the middle of a large shopping district. She was lithe and her braided red hair spilled over her shoulders and onto her chest and back.

"Hello, Prince Lucifer. Fancy seeing you here."

He sidestepped her and kept walking, but Sariel pulled him back.

"Hello, Rosaline," Sariel said. "You are looking as fine and versatile as ever."

She giggled before arching one of her eyebrows at Lucifer. "Well, I'm glad someone still thinks so."

"Sorry," Lucifer said, nodding to her in apology. "We're just in a hurry to see the King."

"Well, at least he'll see you," Rosaline said. "I guess he's too busy to remember the little people anymore."

"With thousands of members," Sariel said, "you are still a force to be reckoned with. I'm sure he'll come calling on you again."

"Come have a drink with me," she said, pointing at a nearby café with a brown and green awning.

"We should be..." Lucifer said.

"Of course we will," Sariel interrupted him. "The King can wait."

She brushed his arm and jaw with her hands, and he playfully growled. Lucifer protested weakly as Sariel towed him behind.

They sat down at a wooden table with cushioned chairs, and Lucifer focused on the marbling of the wood. He avoided Rosaline's eyes. They were more teal than dark green, but paired with her scarlet hair, they were disturbing him. He hadn't been this close to an elf since Anne lay dying in his arms.

"You miss her," Rosaline said, lifting his face by the chin. "That much is obvious. There is still some hope for an alliance, I guess, despite the signs. We were all worried after hearing about her death. My condolences."

"It should be me offering condolences," Lucifer said. "She was a princess of your people, and after my universe kidnapped her for over a million years, I put her in harm's way instead of bringing her back to the elven people."

"That wasn't her destiny," she said.

Lucifer scoffed and grabbed a waiter by the arm. "Do you have something with alcohol in it?"

The waiter nodded. "Let me get you a menu."

"Thanks."

"You don't believe in destiny?" Rosaline asked. "That's actually quite humorous, considering who you are."

"What do you mean?" Lucifer asked.

"You have had prophecies attached to you here since before you were born."

Lucifer tried to fashion a response, but he was completely and awkwardly tongue-tied. This was the first he had ever heard about a prophecy in the Elven Realm concerning him.

Rosaline chuckled as the waiter arrived and handed them menus.

"Today's special..."

"What's the strongest drink you have?" Lucifer asked him.

"That would be the fermented chai root soaked in an Elysium spice broth and high proof wine imported directly from..."

"Yeah, that's the one," Lucifer said.

"Make that two," Sariel added.

"Very well," the waiter said. "And you, Ms. Rosaline?"

"Coffee, black," she said. "Unlike these gentlemen, I'm still trying to cope with my liquor consumption from last night."

He nodded and crisply pivoted before retreating into the restaurant.

"You didn't know you had a prophecy in the Arnessan Archives?" Rosaline asked.

Lucifer shook his head. He didn't want to know. Oracles freaked him out.

"'He will unite the children of Archimedes with a pearl of the Architect's chosen, and their son will usher in a new age.'"

Lucifer beckoned the waiter to hurry with his drink.

"What about me?" Sariel asked.

"Prophecy, you mean?" Rosaline shrugged. "If you have one, I don't know about it."

Sariel's pouting drew the first signs of laughter from Lucifer. He ran his fingers along the cracks of the tarnished oaken table surface.

"Does it say when he will return?"

"Who?" Rosaline asked.

"My son."

"You don't have him?"

Lucifer shook his head and wiped at his eyes. Not all the moisture was gone, though, and he gritted his teeth at the way she shifted in her seat, and her bottom lip puffed out as she watched him. He wasn't trying to gain her sympathy.

"I'm afraid that's all I know about your son's prophecy," Rosaline said. "Yours is just getting started, though."

The waiter expertly laid the three cups and saucers on the table without clattering the surfaces together. The drink smelled pungent and looked like a turd drowned in warm butter.

"Excellent choice," Rosaline smiled from behind her coffee.

Lucifer snarled at her and quaffed the entire contents of the cup. The fermented root brushed against his lips. It was moist, slippery, and was obviously the source of the odor.

He grimaced and pushed the dish to the center of the table. He grabbed a napkin and scraped it against his tongue, but no matter how hard he pressed with the embroidered linen, he couldn't feel it against his mouth.

"Thwat ith going on?" he asked and shook his head. "What ith going on?"

"You asked for the most powerful beverage," Rosaline said.

Lucifer looked at his brother, who was giggling as he stared at the awning above them.

"Wur in troll," Lucifer said.

"Why would you be in trouble?" Rosaline asked.

Lucifer steadied himself against the armrest and tried to focus on the Rosaline in front of him that the others were circling around. "We're on our way tooth phallus to see Elnathril."

"Phallus..." Sariel chortled. "Aweshome... awethumb... awesome."

"Right," Rosaline smiled. "You're both on your way to the palace to see Elandril. Looks like you're going to need an interpreter."

"You wool do that for meeth?" Lucifer asked.

"I could try," Rosaline said. "I have my own trade matters I would like to talk to him about, and this would give me an excuse for an audience. I'm sure he'll see you both immediately. What is it you're here for anyway?"

"Arsameetis," Lucifer said.

"Sarmetis?" she asked. "The elven city?"

"No," Lucifer frowned and kneaded his numb cheeks with his fingers. "Archimedes."

"The Architect?"

Lucifer nodded and tried not to ruin his response with more slurred speech.

"I'm familiar with our _great_ creator," she shook her head and retrieved a cigarette from a small purse.

"You know him?"

"I'd say he knows all of me," Rosaline said as she lit the cigarette and blew some smoke into Lucifer's face. He closed his eyes and breathed it in deeply. It smelled like a crackling fire in winter.

"Whath's he like?" he asked.

"Insatiable and a bit rude. Always comes back, but leaves immediately and gruffly. Apparently, his little side projects build up quite an appetite, which I help him with, and then it's back to the lab or study or whatever dimension that he goes off to."

"How do you...?" Lucifer asked. "I mean... how?... Er... when does he?"

He slammed his fist into the table in frustration and several elves rebuked him with their eyes. They might have been more effective if their eyes weren't travelling all over the place. A few of them had even sprouted wings and were flapping around his head. He tried to catch them in the palm of his hand but kept missing.

"How do I get him to come to me?" Rosaline asked, choking on her cigarette with laughter as she watched the brothers groping at the air around them. "Archimedes doesn't work that way. If you're not offering him sex, I guess you'll have to do something extraordinary. He has a weird sense of humor. Maybe you should appeal to that."

"How long doe crap last?"

"Hours."

"We'll have twat," Lucifer folded his arms and Sariel choked on his pungent tea.

"Now, you're sthalking, brova." Sariel said.

Rosaline shook her head.

"What did I sthay?" Lucifer asked. "We'll have to wait. I can't smeet with Ernalith like this."

"You don't have long," she said. "His main singulus, the one you grew up with, leaves for a trade delegation in Uldram in an hour." She pointed to the screens dotting the large corporate towers. "It's all over the papers."

He turned in his seat to see what she was talking about, but he was too distracted by the pretty elves that hustled along the busy street behind him.

"Hello... Hello..."

Sariel laughed and joined his brother in greeting everyone.

"I wouldn't miss this meeting for the world," Rosaline said. "Let's get going. We don't have much time."

She dropped some zinanbar coins on the polished wood and grabbed Lucifer's arm. She was so warm! He reached down with his other hand and stroked the small red and blonde hairs on her arm. While paying attention to her arm hair, he stumbled into two of her other singuli, and they rubbed his face and chest.

Heaven.

***

The two brothers locked arms with Rosaline, but Lucifer was not actually trying to be formal; he was simply attempting to stay upright. A stately old elf with long white hair and a clean-shaven face pushed the doors to the throne room inward, and led them in. The hall was bedecked in lush dark blue, gold and white carpets, curtains, and tapestries. Where there wasn't blue cloth, there was stone and silver.

"The Demon Princes Lucifer and Sariel Kadingir, my Lord," the elf servant said.

"Thank you, Galto," Elandril said from his raised throne. He hadn't looked up yet and was busy signing a long piece of parchment. "Leave us be."

Galto closed the doors in front of him as he bent low and walked backward from the room.

"My singuli spotted you at a local café having a drink with our old friend," the King said. "How are you, Rosaline?"

"I am well, Your Majesty. Thanks for asking."

"So, what can I do for my drunken in-laws?"

"I fish!" Lucifer said solemnly and slapped himself in the face accidentally instead of rubbing his mouth.

"Wish," he corrected himself. "I wish."

"We came very close, didn't we? My sister loved you, and I love both of you still. What's on your mind?"

Lucifer nudged Rosaline forward and motioned with his eyes toward the throne. "You thell him."

"The princes wish to see the Architect," she said.

"Why would they need to see the Architect?"

"They didn't say, my Lord."

"And what did you say?"

"I don't think they are his type," she smiled.

Elandril reclined in his chair and laughed heartily. "No, I guess they're not." He called to an aid. "You, go fetch Persephone. Ask her to bring the scrolls. Maybe the prophecies can help us figure out what is afoot here."

"No prosthesis!" Lucifer begged him.

Elandril put his hand to his mouth but did a poor job hiding his mirth. "What am I going to do with you two? If this gets into our networks, you'll never hear the end of it."

"They already have a million followers on their channels," Rosaline said.

Lucifer pulled Rosaline toward the throne, and she in turn dragged Sariel forward, who was rubbing his face against the plush carpets.

"We need to squeeze him," Lucifer said. "Arshimedes," he added for clarification.

"If I knew how to summon Archimedes," Elandril said, "believe me, I would. The prophecies are all coming to a head, and I could use his advice. I keep hoping that he'll show up and tell me he has found the anomaly, but I haven't seen him in over a year."

Rosaline whistled a low note and shuffled her feet as Elandril peered down at her.

"How many times have you seen him in the past year?" he asked.

"At least once a month."

Sariel grabbed her by the shoulders. "If I was a supreme creator guy like Arfimeatus, I would totally visit you like once a day."

"That's sweet," she said. "I think."

He nodded enthusiastically.

The doors creaked open behind them, and Lucifer could hear bare feet against stone and then carpet.

"Pheenie, there you are!" Elandril said. "You look lovely today."

"Thank you."

As Lucifer attempted to turn to see who the newcomer was, his hand somehow locked with Rosaline's forearm, and he struggled to free himself.

"Hold on," Rosaline said. "You're going to rip my arm off!"

She pulled her arm free, and Lucifer reeled backward. He tripped on a corner of a thick rug and whipped around in a half-circle. He mumbled curses as he reached out with his hands, expecting to land hard on the floor, but instead his palms found something far softer and more yielding.

She wore a deep green, wispy see-through dress that left little to the imagination, and as he brought his eyes upward, preparing a slurred apology, he gasped at her jawline, nose, and the red hair that parted around her milky white eyes.

"What the..." she said.

He grabbed her under both of her ears and pulled her to his lips. He closed his eyes, and she returned the kiss. He felt his tears against their pressed cheeks and lips, and when he finally let her go she fell into a pew, which slid a few feet across the stone floor.

He only started to feel awkward when she didn't get back up after twenty seconds or so. This was also about the same time that he noticed she was considerably less toned and more frail than Anne had ever been. Then there were the white, pupil-less eyes; this woman was obviously an oracle.

"Pheenie... Persephone," Elandril said from behind the embarrassed prince, "this is your twin sister's lover, Lucifer."

Persephone finally exhaled and laughed. She sounded just like Anne, and then she froze. Lucifer thought she had stopped breathing again, but as he turned around, he noticed that no one in the room seemed to be moving.

Sariel was pointing at him and his head was cocked backward in what looked like a satisfying cackle. Rosaline's face was buried in her hands behind a few locks of red hair, and Elandril was standing now with his hands on his hips, smiling at him.

Lucifer turned around in time to see a portal open beside Persephone, and a man with brushed bleach-white hair and a combed beard stepped out. His white robe was frayed and looked extremely comfortable. He walked briskly toward Lucifer and pushed Persephone hard in the back as he moved past her. Lucifer expected her to fly face first into the floor, but she was still bent forward with a huge grin on her face.

"And I thought I was a horn dog," the old man said. "But her twin sister? In front of her brother?"

He bowed low.

Lucifer smiled. He didn't have to ask for the man's name. Stopped time, portalled into the King's throne room, and confessed to being a horny old man? Must be Archimedes.

"I thought she was Anne," Lucifer explained weakly.

"Keep that one handy, but I think it will only work once."

Lucifer shrugged and nodded. He was suddenly very sober.

"Well, don't just stand there looking like an idiot," Archimedes said. "Let's go grab what you came here for."

Before Lucifer could say anything, the old man leapt back into the portal, which immediately started shrinking.

"Wait for me," Lucifer yelled before jumping through.

***

As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Lucifer groped along the stone floor and felt for edges. He could hear Archimedes' footsteps hammering into the distance, but he couldn't follow. He could sense the void out there from the echoes, but he couldn't tell where the darkness would consume him.

In time, faint lights began to dot the air around him, and then nebulae and quasars. Spiral galaxies fought against each other amidst the glowing space dust. Suns collapsed and black holes consumed their cosmic lifeblood.

"What are you waiting on back there?" Archimedes grumbled. "The afterlife?"

"I can't see anything," Lucifer said. "And I don't want to fall to my death."

A bright blue light erupted from a hundred yards ahead and bounced as it made its way back to Lucifer. He shielded his eyes and saw an irate face behind the source.

"Not completely unwise, I suppose," Archimedes said. "I've lost many an apprentice along these stairs."

He tossed something to Lucifer and flicked his wrist to dismiss the fiery azure ball of chaos. Lucifer fumbled with the straps and felt the glass surfaces.

"Put them on, idiot," Archimedes said. "And make yourself useful and tell me if you see anything unusual."

Lucifer put the goggles on and the world around him came to life. He was standing on a suspended, erratically constructed staircase. It was non-uniform and broken in many places. Some of the staircases terminated into thin air. Others ended in a portal. Many of the paths went off into the horizon, as far as he could see.

"Where are we?"

"The Elven Primal," Archimedes said. "Now, keep up this time."

"What am I looking for?"

"Solid footing, I reckon."

"No, jerk," Lucifer said. "I'm looking at a floating staircase in the middle of a planetarium here. What would be unusual?"

Archimedes chuckled. "I guess I deserved that. You've seen millions of galaxies and billions of stars. We're peering out into the universe right now. Just let me know if you see something unusual."

Lucifer nodded, and the goggles shifted down his nose. He pushed them back up and hurdled an intersecting rock pathway. He heard a piece of the granite break free from the stairs beneath him and slid to a stop.

"Archimedes, the path is giving way."

"Yeah, I haven't repaired this one in ages. I'll get Horace on it."

"Horace?" Lucifer asked.

"Latest apprentice," Archimedes said, leaping to an adjacent staircase. "Found him shortly after Olivander died."

"Sorry to hear about your old apprentice. How did he pass?"

Archimedes bounded three steps at a time and pointed at a break in a nearby staircase. "Screaming as he fell through that hole over there."

Lucifer gulped and kept his eyes downward. He started to push his wings through his suit, but he didn't want to accidentally break any of the thin, seemingly fragile staircases. He didn't even fake an attempt at looking for whatever abnormal thing Archimedes seemed interested in.

"So, your apprentices repair your walkways?"

"If they're not working on my research, recording histories, or fetching something from another universe."

Off in the distance, a square object was coming into view. It seemed wooden. Maybe five stories in all directions.

"I'm seeing something unusual," Lucifer said.

"That's my study, you dimwit, and our destination."

"How was I supposed to know?"

Lucifer pushed his wings through his suit and punched into the staircase behind him. He launched over Archimedes and wing-walked between parallel walkways. When he arrived at the study, he twisted around before plopping his rump on top of the building. He dangled his legs as Archimedes approached and was rewarded with the old man's grumbling.

"Maybe your next apprentice should be a demon," Lucifer said. "Less unnecessary deaths."

"Too weak-minded," someone said from behind him.

Lucifer spun on his rear end and found a young elf with short, curly brown hair and glasses. His jeans were incredibly tattered and he could have used a new unstained shirt and a bath.

"You must be Horace," Lucifer said. "Nice to meet you."

"And you are?"

"Lucifer, prince of demons."

Horace adjusted his glasses and bowed. "Sorry, I'm just aping what my master has told me. I'm an intern. What do I know?"

"I'm sure you know quite a lot if the creator is taking you on as his protégé."

Horace worried his lip and avoided eye contact. "I just have a proficiency for patterns. He pulled me from an advanced calculus class. Stopped the whole universe just for me. How could I say no?"

"I know the feeling," Lucifer said. "How old were you?"

"Five."

"Years old?"

Horace looked into Lucifer's eyes and nodded, but became uncomfortable again. He knelt down and tore away an errant frayed section of the planking. With his other hand, he massaged the wound he'd just made in the study.

Lucifer took off his goggles and rubbed his eyes before putting them back on. The planking was completely repaired.

"You coming down?" Archimedes called. "Or are you making out with your second elf today?"

Lucifer shook his head and peered over the edge. "I only have eyes for you, Archimedes."

"Oh, be still my beating heart," the old man swooned below.

Lucifer glanced at Horace again.

"Advanced calculus at such a young age is most impressive," Lucifer said as he stood up. "Maybe demons are dense."

"You can change that," Horace said. "They're not dense. They're just ignorant. Archimedes once told me that the only reason us elves ended up being his favorite was because the demons refused to open their minds and evolve."

Lucifer nodded. "I understand."

"Best not keep him waiting. He gets worse."

Lucifer took a step backward and dropped to the doorway. He peeked inside and saw a plethora of books, gadgets, and papers. While most people used bookcases and desks for organization, Archimedes appeared to use them to prop up certain piles of junk. Only the rafters and buttresses appeared free of debris.

Archimedes peered at him from behind a wooden table leg. "Shut the door. You're letting my notes on the quantum mechanics of space-time bridges blow out the door."

Lucifer stomped on the offending paper and closed the door behind him. Archimedes was out of sight, but the crumpling of papers and flying objects and scrolls told Lucifer where he might look.

"What are you looking for?"

"It will look like a child's toy. I made it for your son."

Lucifer smiled. "That was nice of you."

"It will probably have a bit of wear and tear on it by now. It's a bit old."

"My son isn't even born yet. How old could it be?"

"I don't know," Archimedes said as he exited a four-foot-high pile of parchment. He twirled his fingers around his white beard. "Maybe three hundred million years or so."

Lucifer's jaw dropped, and he pushed some papers from the corner of a desk and sat down. His head swam, and he felt drunk again.

"Actually, maybe we're looking for the wrong toy," Archimedes said. "Let me find my pattern chronographer. You'll get a kick out of this."

He dove into another pile of parchments. A bookcase toppled over in his wake, dumping papers and gadgets onto the floor. Archimedes emerged from his most recent pile and looked at Lucifer. "Did you hear glass clinking?"

"I heard a crash of wood followed by metal, papers, and... maybe a squish?" Lucifer said. "I can't be sure. There were dozens of gadgets that fell out of that one, though."

"A squish? Hmmm... probably a sandwich... Or an old apprentice. It's hard to keep track..."

Archimedes rifled through papers and kicked aside offending trinkets. He picked up a piece of glass that looked like a dodecahedron, though Lucifer couldn't count the sides. Lucifer struggled to remember where he had seen it before.

"Well, I should probably put this one somewhere safe, don't you think?" Archimedes asked.

"Is that...?" Lucifer asked. "Is that an _anur quppu_?"

Archimedes nodded. "Dangerous little sucker. Don't worry. We're getting you something much more powerful, right after I find my chronographer."

"How many of these things do you have?"

The old man shrugged and pointed around at the various piles. "One? A hundred? Depends on how many have been pilfered by my good-for-nothing apprentices."

Lucifer put his face in his hands, and Archimedes came over and pushed a separate pile of papers off the desk. He sat down and dropped his elbows to his knees.

"If you are worried about Chaos," Archimedes said, "don't be. A person would have to bring one of those things into the heart of the projection to do any real damage. Jehovah's pattern is only so vulnerable because the primal is leaking from billions of different places because of that death ray he's pointing at Chaos. He's young, and it's his first pattern. Rookie mistake."

"According to him, everything he does is deliberate."

"A child can intentionally slide face first down a flight of stairs. Does that mean he's a genius because he was deliberate?"

Lucifer chuckled. "I guess not."

"Now, help me find this chronographer."

"What does it look like?"

"Cylindrical," Archimedes said. "It'll have lenses on the ends and along the top."

Lucifer found a metallic cylinder. It only had one lens, but it had lots of little buttons. He held it up for Archimedes. Unfortunately, the old man was swimming through paper again. It didn't have a lot of lenses. Couldn't have been the chronographer.

"It's a flashlight," Archimedes grumbled. "Honestly..." The old man swatted papers aside and picked up a trinket. "Aha!"

He tossed the cylinder into the air and it spun around like a viewing orb. Above it, a red line blinked into existence. An arrow pointed at the end closest to Lucifer.

"Well, go ahead," Archimedes said.

"Go ahead and what?"

"This pattern chronographer shows a timeline of all recorded history—at least, everything that I'm aware of. Give it a shot. Name an event."

Lucifer meandered closer to the door so he could see the line in profile. He tried to think of historical events. His almost brother-in-law's coronation seemed to be fairly historic.

"Elandril's coronation," Lucifer said and waited for a new arrow to appear. "It seems to be broken."

Archimedes crossed his arms and glared at Lucifer.

"Well, then, where is the arrow?"

Archimedes pointed at the original arrow location.

"But that one was already there," Lucifer said.

"There are two arrows now," Archimedes grunted. "You're going to have to go further back than that."

"My birth," Lucifer said, but the arrow still defied him.

"Erase all arrows," Archimedes commanded, and the device immediately stopped projecting the markers. "Chaos Primal creation."

A green arrow appeared an inch from the end of the timeline.

"You can't be serious," Lucifer said.

Archimedes motioned toward the timeline. "Try it yourself."

"Elven Primal creation."

A purple arrow appeared at the center. Lucifer shook his head in disbelief.

"My other nine pattern creations," Archimedes said. His voice wavered as he gave the command.

The timeline projected three more markers just behind the Elven Primal, and the other six were randomly distributed between the middle and the end, where the Chaos Primal was.

"Hundreds of billions of Chaos years," the white-bearded man said. "Blood, sweat, and toil spent making my creations, and your kind erases them in the blink of an eye. That can't happen to the Elven Realm. That's why I must find the prophesied anomaly. The oracles say it is our doom."

"The Chaos Primal is your creation too, you know!"

Archimedes pulled his hair back into a pony tail, exposing his elongated, pointed elven ears. "An affectation for the children that didn't turn their backs on me."

Lucifer nodded and bit his lip.

"My birth, highlight white," Archimedes said.

An arrow appeared at the quarter mark. Lucifer watched it for almost a minute before Archimedes broke the silence.

"What it took me billions of years to learn, Jehovah did in a million."

"Overachiever," Lucifer said.

"Prodigy," Archimedes said. "If I had searched for a demon apprentice, I might have avoided all of this mess."

"But you wouldn't have found Horace."

Archimedes nodded, leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "Let's look for your son's gift."

"What does it look like?"

"You'll know when you find it."

Lucifer rummaged through documents and gadgets on his side of the room, while Archimedes resumed searching the far bookcases. Lucifer pushed his wings out again and used them to knock over stacks of paper.

For hours, they overturned desks and ransacked the drawers. Archimedes and Lucifer grunted at each other whenever they crossed paths. After clearing a desk of all its parchment and trinkets, Lucifer climbed atop it and lay down. He brought his arm to his forehead and stared into the lamps that hung from the ceiling. Then he started looking at the rafters. Each was perfectly crafted and fitted into the buttresses that spanned the roof. Well, all except for one.

An apprentice must have been overzealous in shoring up one of the joints as it was bulky and misshapen on one side. Lucifer squinted and tried to figure out what the laborer must have used for reinforcement. It wasn't putty.

His wings raised him from the table, and as he came closer, he saw fur. And then a nose and sewn mouth. It was a stuffed bear, nestled against the rafter joint.

"Aha!" Archimedes yelled. "I must have wanted to hide it from the sticky fingers of my apprentices."

Lucifer grabbed the bear and lowered himself back to the floor. "What does it do?"

"Whatever you can imagine," Archimedes said cryptically.

"How does it work?"

"Just push the buttons."

Lucifer pressed his finger into its nose, but nothing happened. Archimedes trudged through a disheveled pile of scrolls toward the door.

"So, now that you've got what you came for, put those goggles back on and help me search for this anomaly."

Lucifer played with one of the bear's eyes that was hanging precariously from a string. "He's seen better days."

"Hey," Archimedes said. "Let's just see how you look after a few hundred million years!"

Lucifer put his thumb on the other eye and pressed down. Something clicked and a translucent bubble began expanding around the device. When Lucifer was fully enveloped, the bear morphed into a small metallic pen and emitted a faint wind. Within seconds the wind became a whooshing torrent, and papers began circling the room.

"Nooooooooo!" Archimedes screamed.

He ran at Lucifer, but the winds swept him hard into a wall. A red jet burst from the pen and burned through the ceiling. Stars and nebulae blinked through the seared opening and the heat and smoke rising from the emitted beam. Lucifer set his feet and pressed his wings into the wooden supports behind him to fight the fierce pressure being exerted against him by the pen.

Archimedes tumbled across the floor and into a corner. His hands scraped against the boards as he climbed to the rafters and clung to a solid, unyielding joint.

"Press the damned button!"

"Which one?"

"Surprise me, you imbecile!" Archimedes yelled.

The pen only had three buttons, and the green one was depressed. That left black and blue. With how disastrously the green one turned out being, Lucifer felt there was no reason to tempt fate and test out new buttons. Instead, he clicked down on the green one, and it thankfully reset its position to the top of the pen.

The winds died down, and Archimedes fell onto a pile of papers. Universes weren't the only things that Archimedes could create. Lucifer was certain that many of the combinations of curse words the old man came up with were truly unique, but he thought he had his own reasons for being furious.

"You wanted me to give _this_ to my son? A toy that shoots a destructive jet of energy when he presses on its eyeball? What is wrong with you?"

Archimedes huffed and pointed a finger into Lucifer's face, but he shook his head as he apparently thought about Lucifer's objections.

"The blue button just produces a benign writing utensil," he said lamely.

Lucifer didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he did both. The old man stared at the hole that the pen had made.

"I'm afraid to look," he said.

"At what?"

"I think I've found the anomaly," Horace said as he peered at them through the opening in the ceiling.

"I figured as much," Archimedes said.

"You better get out here," Horace said. "And bring the device... quickly."

Archimedes dashed to the door and grabbed a pair of goggles from his robe.

Lucifer ran after him and hastily put his lenses on. By the time he reached the door, Archimedes had already leapt four staircases. Lucifer tried to find the anomaly, but all he saw were galaxies.

"Where is it?" he asked Horace.

Horace, who had his own goggles on, pointed directly above him.

Lucifer peered through his lenses at the sky, but everything was inverted and blurry.

"They're on upside down," Horace said.

Lucifer flipped the straps on the back of his head, and the primal came into focus. Above him, a small green nebula pulsated light back to him. It didn't seem unusual. He shrugged his shoulders at the apprentice.

Horace made twisting motions next to his goggles. "Magnify the view."

Lucifer lifted his chin and turned the knobs on the sides of the glasses. As he dialed the knob clockwise, the green blob grew larger. Soon, he could see the pulsating space cloud across all of his periphery. It didn't have any stars in it, which was odd.

"What's so wrong about that? It's just a cloud."

"Fundamentally?" Horace asked. "There is nothing wrong with the cloud. Though it's spreading, it's certainly containable. The real problem is what used to be there."

"And what's that?"

"Uldram."

Lucifer raced up the stairs and jammed his wings into neighboring paths to propel him forward. He looked for traces of a white beard and a frayed robe, but Archimedes was nowhere to be seen. Lucifer groped for staircases higher in the primal and pulled himself toward the anomaly.

"Archimedes?" he called.

"Bring me the device," a weak voice said from nearby.

Archimedes' knees were tucked into his chest as he rocked back and forth behind a bend in one of the staircases. Lucifer sat down on the upper stairs and handed the pen to the old man.

"Sorry," Lucifer said.

Archimedes held the pen up, aimed it at the nebula overhead and then looked at Lucifer. He pointed at the black button and then pressed it. Instead of emitting another jet, the green cloud reversed itself into the pen. Unlike the damage the green button had done, the black one was slow and windless. In fact, there was no sound—almost like being plopped down into a soundproof box.

"The voiding mode will probably be useful for Jehovah's jet in Chaos," Archimedes said. "Use it wisely."

"I'm not giving this to my son," Lucifer said firmly.

"That's up to you, I guess," Archimedes said as he nodded. "But it has a child-safety mode. I obviously forgot to enable it before I placed the bear in the rafters. That was my fault. Just press the blue button before you shift it back into the bear, and your son won't destroy any galaxies."

Archimedes chuckled. "At least, not until you are ready for him to."

Lucifer stared into the blackness left behind from the cloud. There weren't any stars in the area at all. "How did the cloud destroy all the stars behind it?"

"There is no behind it from our point of view," Archimedes said. "I morphed the primal to give me a view of the projections, but in only two dimensions. What you are seeing is a flattened three-dimensional perspective of an entire universe, panoramically stitched together."

"So, the cloud cut across all of the third dimension?"

Archimedes nodded. "And the most populous elven city in existence was wiped from the map. Uldram was the center of our trade networks. It had grown so big that it required three dedicated planets from separate galaxies to handle the ship volume."

Lucifer's lip quivered. This was the worst possible thing that could have possibly happened. He came to the Elven Realm to ask for help and solidify the relationship with the elves; not destroy millions of them!

"We need to get back to Arnessa," Archimedes said. "It was my job to protect the Elven Primal. In my haste to scour the pattern for the anomaly, I neglected my duties in passing this terrifyingly powerful child's toy to you. I'll take full responsibility with Elandril."

"I'm not letting you take sole credit for this," Lucifer said. "I'll do whatever I have to. There has to be a way to make this right."

Archimedes used Lucifer's shoulder to get back to his feet. The stars twinkled outside of the void, and Lucifer removed his goggles to look at the old man, his creator.

"You've done everything you can," Archimedes said. "but this isn't Order. Millions of elves don't come back."

They walked beside each other and peered at the stars as they descended the stairs past the study. Archimedes pointed to star formations and galaxies and reminisced on their creation. He offered tips on pattern creation and maintenance, and how Jehovah's jet would react once the voiding mode of the pen was used on it.

As they arrived at the portal that brought them here, they both stopped and looked at each other.

"Time to pay the piper," Lucifer said.

"This bill is more than either you or I can afford."

***

Lucifer stepped through the portal and into the Arnessan throne room. Archimedes followed and pushed him forward. Everyone else was still frozen. He passed Persephone on the pew, and ascended the steps to where Elandril smiled, Rosaline hid her face behind her hands, and Sariel reclined in laughter.

"What should we say?"

Archimedes shrugged and shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

The scene came to life as Persephone fell face first into the floor, and Sariel's laughter filled the room.

"Are you okay?" Lucifer asked Persephone.

"It feels like someone just punched me in the back," she said.

He remembered Archimedes' entrance.

"You were just over there," Sariel accused his brother. "How did you...?"

But his question was stopped short by Elandril and Rosaline going into convulsions.

"What the hell is wrong with them?" Lucifer asked.

Persephone rammed into him and tripped over the stairs as she groped along the ground to locate her brother. She found his chest first and then his face. He was curled into a ball and groaning. Beside him, Rosaline was doing the same as she tore at her loose fitting clothing.

"Forced relearning," Archimedes said.

"Like in the Certamen?" Sariel asked.

"They just lost thousands of members."

Sariel turned on Lucifer. "What did you just do?"

Lucifer held up the bear and tried to find the words.

"The anomaly has destroyed Uldram," Archimedes said.

"Uldram had millions of elves in it," Persephone said. "This is terrible! How did this happen?"

Lucifer and Archimedes eyed each other.

"A device was activated inside the Elven Primal," Lucifer said.

"It obliterated everything around Uldram and sent a cloud of cosmic dust across millions of light years in seconds," Archimedes said. "We've lost everyone in the three sister cities. Uldram Major, Uldram Medium, and Uldram Minor."

"The trade delegations were waiting for Elandril's ceremonial singulus," Persephone said. "We've just lost half of our government."

"I'm so sorry," Lucifer said.

She looked up at him without seeing him. "I curse the day you were born."

"This was not all his doing, my child," Archimedes said. "I handed him a device and in the exchange," he lied, "the creation mode was triggered. I should have enabled the safety mode and properly guided him in its usage. This was my fault."

"You were supposed to stop the anomaly," she said. "Not cause it!"

"I've contained and erased the anomaly. It was jettisoned into a void pocket far away."

Persephone closed her eyes and put her hands on her cheeks. Her eyelids flinched as her eyes flitted behind the thin layer of skin, and then they opened again. She breathed heavily and stroked her brother's hair.

"What did you see?" Sariel asked.

"War..." she said. "Death... but also new life. This will eventually free my sister's son from his prison, but Jehovah is coming..."

"We'll make this right," Lucifer said. "Batarel and I will find a way. If Jehovah is coming to take your primal, we will stop him. You have my word."

"I'll take care of my brother," Persephone said. "And make sure Rosaline recovers. You three have work to do. Leave us."

***

As he walked through the lobby and saw all the people crying, Lucifer apologized profusely and offered his condolences.

"Chaos will do everything in its power to see Uldram rebuilt," he said. "Our deepest sympathies go out to each of you and your families."

"Do they?" a balding elf said. His ear lobes drooped low and his face showed signs of recovery from melting. Lucifer recognized him from the Certamen monitors as the runner-up in the election for king. Routan, the former forgewright, glared into Lucifer's face.

"I told that young fool that you would kill us, and here you are—standing in our capital as millions of us die. Quite the coincidence..."

His speech was attracting a following. Dozens of elves congregated around them, and the looks were a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and anger. The beginnings of a mob.

"Archimedes..." Lucifer said.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll hear plenty of lies and cover-ups later," Routan said.

"You need to back off," Sariel said. "All of you."

"Or what? You'll kill me? Like everyone in Uldram?"

Routan reached for the stuffed bear, and Lucifer let him grab it. He had enabled the safety mode after Archimedes told him about the blue button, so it was perfectly harmless until he shifted the bear into the pen again.

"It's a gift for my son," Lucifer said. "The child Anne and I made together."

Routan squeezed the bear's midsection and stared into it. "I once knew what it was like to shower my sons with presents." He handed the bear back to him. "But I lost two of them in the Great War against your armies, and I lost the other seven today in Uldram. Seven boys and eleven little girls."

Lucifer teared up, and his bottom lip quivered as he looked around at the angry elves. "Mr. Routan, I am so sorry."

"No you're not," Routan said as he put his hands on Lucifer's shoulders. "Not yet."

Sariel stepped between his brother and Routan and appealed to the gathered elves. "We're going to do everything we can to rebuild Uldram and stop Jehovah from sending a similar jet into the Elven Realm."

"Has Jehovah ever led an invading army into the Elven Realm?" Routan asked with his deceptively calm voice. "I seem to have missed a major war."

"No," Sariel said. "But he's looking for a feeder universe for his primal, and when we stop his assault on Chaos, the oracles have told us that he's going to switch targets."

"The demon oracles? How convenient!"

"The King's own sister."

"We'll soon see where our King and his sister's loyalties truly lie."

"Let's get out of here," Sariel said as he grabbed his brother by the arm of his pinstriped suit jacket and pulled him toward the main doors. "The Council is destroyed and our universe is changed forever. Chaos will come through. You'll see. Please have faith in us."

The crowd dispersed and went back to their families. Grown men bawled openly into their hands, and others threw chairs across the lobby, causing guards to carry several of them past Routan and toward the main doors. Lucifer turned toward Routan as his own brother yanked on his jacket. The old man glared back.
Chapter 24

The Crown Prince Returns

Lucifer sat on his haunches in a void pocket between Order and Chaos with his uncle. Less than a mile away, Jehovah's jet stream sizzled as it collided with the translucent membrane that marked the boundary between Order and Chaos.

Batarel's large red head hung so low that his chin dug into his black robe. His stubby horns pointed outward at Lucifer.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," Lucifer said. "The pattern says it can't talk directly to you. When you were reborn in Order you must have lost your connection to the Chaos pattern."

Batarel nodded. "Since my reincarnation, I've been snubbed by many creatures. Humans... elves... and even demons... Finding out that my own pattern has come to reject me is more than I can handle."

"The pattern doesn't reject you," Lucifer said. "It says the fates of Chaos and the Elven Realm actually depend on your knowledge and actions. You are one of the most important creatures in the multiverse."

Batarel immediately brightened. "Tell me what I must do."

"The demon race needs a miracle," Lucifer said. "And you have to shape me into a legend. The pattern has tasked you with training me to become a wizard."

Batarel pursed his lips and stroked his large fingers against his cheeks. "Lucifer, that will take hundreds of thousands of years."

"The pattern says only one spell is necessary right now."

"A chaos bolt, I presume."

"No," Lucifer said. "I need to learn how to shield."

"Self protection against Eranos?" Batarel asked.

Lucifer stood up and walked over to the Order jet. At the boundary here, the destructive force was over twenty feet in diameter. At the deflector, deep within Chaos, it was over two hundred feet wide.

"I see," Batarel said. "That will indeed be legendary."

"It's a start," Lucifer said as he pulled his son's teddy bear from a backpack. He fingered the black, beady eye, but was careful not to press it.

"You say we need time," Lucifer said. "Well, that's why we're here."

"Then put down the bear and let's get started," Batarel said as he conjured an image of a maelstrom of stars.

Lucifer was mesmerized by the churning of the galaxy-like projection. But unlike a spiral galaxy, the internal eddies became so quickly pronounced that they consumed the shape and changed its momentum.

"Concentrate on the shade of the Chaos Primal in front of you," Batarel said. "Embrace its randomness... anticipate its next move... and then change it to something else..."

***

Lucifer rammed his wings into planetoids as he circled the Order jet and traced it through Chaos. Behind him, his uncle and brother grappled with other space objects and kept their distance. Symbolism and convention were just as important to demons as acts themselves, and wherever Lucifer went now, he needed to be at the front.

Ahead of them, the deflector loomed larger than life, and in front and to the sides of that monolithic structure lounged the troops of the Third Legion.

Lucifer stopped just out of striker range and ordered Batarel and Sariel forward.

The two wizards blinked out of sight and then reappeared fifty feet from the army. Sariel twirled his daggers as he paced in front of them, but it was the calm, imposing form of Batarel that drew the most apprehensive glances.

Batarel crossed his arms and scanned the gathering demons inside the atmosphere bubble that had been constructed around the deflector.

"The prophet Lucifer will now destroy the jet," he said.

Lucifer wing-walked across asteroids and chunks of ice toward the beam.

An officer of the Third Legion stepped forward. "The combined powers of the Council couldn't stop that thing. We're all doomed."

"I am not the Council," Lucifer projected his voice into their minds.

He raised a magical barrier, grasped the pen tightly, and lifted himself into the stream. The jet wrapped around his shield and continued to bounce off the deflector.

"No!" the officer cried as he dropped to his knees.

Lucifer turned around so that they could see his face and expanded the shield. The beam trickled across the deflector and then bounced off his three-hundred-foot-wide transparent shield instead.

"Fear not," he told them.

The officer came to his feet, and the demons filed in between Batarel and Sariel.

Sariel sheathed his daggers and shrugged at his uncle. "It's like we're chopped liver or something."

Lucifer twisted with his wings and faced the jet's onslaught. He dug his tendrils into a barren, crumbling moon and snarled as he pressed the pen's head through the shield and clicked the black button.

Inside the artificial atmosphere bubble, the winds picked up and tossed demons around. Batarel and Sariel shielded and drove their wings into the monolith, and the shielders and strikers of the Third Legion followed suit until they had proper footing to try to pursue Lucifer again.

As the voiding mode increased its suction, the jet's disappearing act accelerated, and Lucifer punched his wings into asteroids and space junk to build his own momentum to follow in step with the retreating energy beam. As his velocity increased, small eddies of pure energy leaked past the pen and streamed off the shield.

The demons of the Third Legion followed behind him, cheering him on, but Lucifer used a small magical push that Batarel had taught him to continue his acceleration far past the speed of light without using his wings. The Third Legion decelerated to a stop and the last Lucifer saw of the army commander was a smile.

Lucifer streaked across the universe, until he returned to the barrier between Order and Chaos.

_Slow down_ , the pattern said. _But keep the voiding mode enabled. Jehovah will have to close off the Order pattern or he will lose everything._

"How will I know when he's closed the jet's source?"

The pattern chuckled. _Should happen any moment now._

Lucifer kept the pen pointed at the white, retreating light and squinted as the beam grew fainter. The light blinked and then went out.

"That's it?"

The pattern cackled maniacally.

"What's going on? Is he saying something?"

Press yourself through the barrier and into Order. Shouldn't need to be deeper than your ears.

Lucifer reset the black button and enabled the safety before putting it back into his pocket.

The pattern giggled, and Lucifer felt its happiness course over him.

"What are you so giddy about?"

You'll hear soon enough.

As he approached the porous barrier, a soft buzzing sound greeted him. He pushed his head through the membrane, and a high-pitched siren forced him to plug his ears with his fingers. He yanked himself back into Chaos and shook his head until the buzzing faded.

"What the hell is that?"

Jehovah screaming.

Lucifer smiled and returned his head through the membrane. He closed his eyes as the screams of Anne's real killer echoed inside his skull. He imagined Anne's head nuzzling into his chest and ran a hand through her ghostly red hair.

_First of many victories_ , the pattern said. _Now, get back to Alurabum. Your second miracle awaits._

***

Lucifer pulled his brown woolen hood farther down his face as the crowd pressed his brother and uncle closer together. The demon mob marched past Ebih Hill and made their way toward the gathering in the main park, organized by the deans of Chaos University. A college student with a megaphone kept the demons as boisterous as possible and encouraged new recruits.

"Oh Eranos, you crazy git,

The Council's long since dead.

Luke took your arm, you little crap,

And now we want your head!"

A young girl giggled as her mother encouraged her to shout the lines.

Sariel chuckled. "I really love this guy."

"He's certainly bold," Batarel agreed.

Lucifer stared at the tornados above Ebih Hill that he used to play in. The knoll was now covered in cheering spectators. He smiled as some of their signs were sucked into the funnels and jettisoned through the clouds far above.

"Eranos is going to have to leave the Courts soon," Lucifer said. "I can't think of a better time than when the deans of the university are being brazen enough to gather in one place."

"Have you seen the pamphlets?" Sariel asked.

He handed Lucifer a yellow flyer with red letters on it. The title was _A Call to the Kadingirs_ , and the enclosed essay was a ten point listing of recent ills, including the destruction of the wizarding core at Bulger's Pass.

"Why not just bring in the First and Third Legions?" Sariel asked. "I'm sure the barracks here would join the coup."

"I would rather not shed demon blood," Lucifer said. "Besides, we need to give the people something to believe in. They already understand military might, but they need to start thinking for themselves. Change is upon us, and we've let fear of social revolution hamper us for so long that fear is all we have. How did we come to this? A people surrounded by leaves and streets that change texture perpetually is scared to death of morphing into what their creator meant them to be."

He looked around at the tens of thousands of demons that lined the streets. A child's toothy grin peeked through a wooden fence. The boy's father hugged him and hoisted the child atop his shoulders. The son waved to the student with the megaphone.

"We've taken away the fear of Jehovah's jet," Lucifer said. "And the people have responded. Next, we must take away their fear of the unknown. Magic is not something for the rich and powerful; it's an integral part of our future. It should be giving them hope. Imagine every man, woman and child able to conjure a chaos bolt. Then, make it so. Our survival will require nothing less."

Batarel put his arm around Lucifer as the student lifted the megaphone to his lips once more.

"Oh Eranos, our Eranos,

You're such a lonely guy.

Your wizard friends are dead and gone.

Who minds you when you cry?"

After a few attempts, the crowd rallied around this war cry as well.

Sariel laughed. "I _will_ have a beer with this wonderful man!"

The crowd cheered and jeered its way along the poorer districts, gaining thousands of demons. The political chants grew louder as they marched through the marketplace where Lucifer's parents had died and continued into the massive public park.

They came to a platform at the center of the commons, and speakers and microphones dropped into place. Thousands of remote viewing maelstroms popped into existence above the trees and stage.

To the left of the platform stood dozens of old men in academic regalia. Their dangling cords struggled against the collective currents of the viewing maelstroms, and several of the old men sent magical pulses into the funnels to dissipate them and force the viewers to watch from elsewhere.

The oldest of them, University Chancellor Vichondrius, ascended the steps first and the other professors and deans followed. As the Chancellor turned to face the crowd, the other academics organized themselves into rows behind him.

Vichondrius cleared his throat into the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. By our count, we have reached over a hundred thousand demons here today, and I can't tell you how truly inspiring it is to see you all standing in solidarity with us."

The crowd clapped and shouted. The student with the megaphone repeated one of his more popular chants, and Vichondrius motioned with his hand for silence.

"Many of us have suffered at the hands of the current regime," the Chancellor said. "We've lost friends and loved ones. We've watched helplessly as our sons, daughters, and all of our magic wielders were sent into a battle against Jehovah and slaughtered with no gains. And we were told, by our King, that the Order jet could not be stopped, that the Council was dead, and that we had no hope."

The demons booed and shouted angry calls for Eranos's head, and a commotion rose from the back of the gathering. Lucifer turned to see what was causing the uproar, but all he could see was the crowd parting. Someone or something was coming fast and heading straight for the platform. Vichondrius continued his rehearsed speech.

"And then, far away at the deflector, we got word of an event. Our loved ones and friends in the Third Legion came home to us, and they spun us an unbelievable tale. We sent our own researchers to the deflector, and they verified that the beam is no longer aimed at Alurabum, and what's more, they've traced it back to the barrier between Order and Chaos, and it has simply disappeared. The assault is no more—gone! How did this happen?"

A magical burst boomed across the meadow and women and children flew over Lucifer and his uncle. Vichondrius' eyes darted from the crowd to the approaching members of the royal guard. Their purple capes and armor surrounded a central figure, whose cackling flooded the park.

"Do not flee," Vichondrius said. "Stay strong."

The crowd made way for the King but did not leave the grounds. Lucifer adjusted his hood to make sure his face was covered and dove behind the guards. His uncle tried to follow, but Lucifer stopped him with an extended hand. He smiled at Batarel to put him at ease and watched until his uncle rejoined Sariel.

Lucifer jogged to catch back up with the royal guard. His hood and bulky clothing hid his famous face and swagger, and the jingling of the royal guard's armor masked that of his own. An executioner shouldered Lucifer aside. In his right hand a heavy axe scraped against the ground, and along his sides rested two curved, black-bladed daggers.

"How did this happen?" Eranos asked from the center of the guards. "Maybe Jehovah gave up."

"He did not!" one of the deans yelled at him.

A hand rose in front of Lucifer, just behind the line of guards, and the dean levitated. He squirmed high above the stage and called out to Vichondrius. The other deans encircled the Chancellor as Eranos released a huge chaos bolt, consuming the isolated demon above them and drenching the huddled men with molten body parts and ash.

Shields popped up in front of the deans as they positioned themselves between the King and the Chancellor.

"Prince Lucifer conjured a shield and pushed the beam back into Order," Vichondrius said.

He rummaged through a sack at his hip and threw a viewing orb into the air, which projected a fiery comet fighting against the Jehovan jet.

"A fake," Eranos yelled as he sent another bolt into the air, frying the orb. Its ashes fell into the old man's white hair. "A forgery."

"But Your Highness," another dean said. "How would you explain the beam's retreat? Even under our best estimates, the deflector couldn't have lasted more than a thousand years. By your very words, we were doomed."

"You are doomed!" the King screamed.

He sent a bolt at the edge of the demon's shield, and the dean did not appear to expect the blow. His shield shimmered away, exposing him. He was lifted high above, just as the other dean was, and obliterated. More ashes fell onto the stage.

"It was your estimates that convinced us of our doom," Eranos said as he climbed the stairs with his guards. "It was your lack of due diligence that resulted in the theory that Jehovah could continue the beam forever."

"But the calculations were accurate," the mathematics dean insisted. "I performed them myself. The beam could have lasted for many billions of years, even without siphoning from our pattern, which we believe that it was doing just that."

Eranos emerged from the guards, and the executioner joined him. The King's lip quivered and his eyes bulged with madness. The deans backed to the corner of the stage and stepped carefully toward the other set of stairs. Two royal guards blocked their escape.

"Maybe Jehovah's ultimate goal in retracting the beam," Eranos said, "was to incite a rebellion in my capital. Did you consider that? Perhaps weakening us where we are strongest was his aim."

"But we have no strength left here," the mathematics dean said. "The Council is..."

Eranos readied another bolt. "Alurabum still has strength!"

"More than you could possibly imagine," Lucifer said from behind the guards.

He raised a transparent shield between his armor and the derelict outfit. The robe and hood billowed out like a balloon being inflated.

Eranos turned around and ordered the guards to part before him. He sent his prepared bolt into Lucifer, and the robe melted away. Lucifer extended the shield, and the crowd gasped as his blue, white, and silver armor came into view. For effect, he summoned his two zinanbar blades and held them at his hips. His wings flailed behind him as the channeled bolt careened into the heavens.

"Kill them!" Eranos screamed and pointed toward the academics clustered in the corner.

"You will do no such thing," Lucifer said. "The pattern commands that you cease this needless slaughter of its blood. You will stop killing the men, women, and children of this nation, and you will lead us in the fight against Jehovah, or you will perish."

"The pattern?" Eranos asked before laughing. "The pattern talks to you? Give me a break. That hideous freak Batarel talks to you. That stupid, lazy brother of yours talks to you. The ghost of your dead elven fiancée..."

"Speak another word about Anne in front of me," Lucifer said, "and it will be the last thing that you ever do."

Eranos's teeth bit so hard into his lips that blood began to dribble down his chin.

"You say I will lead us in the fight against Jehovah," Eranos said. "But how can I lead these people when they mutiny against me in the open like this? These men must die. They have committed treason!"

"Duty to one's king is one of our oldest traditions," Lucifer said, "and one that we must always heed."

He turned to the crowd. "I embrace their guilt as my own. Do not harm them, and I will accept your punishment."

The crowd grumbled in protest, and Eranos looked out at them. His mad eyes darted around the crowd, looking for supporters. There were none.

"I..." Eranos said. "If... you are truly a prophet of the pattern, then it will not be my hand that kills you."

"Then drop the charges and focus on our real enemies," Lucifer said.

"I am the King here! I will give the orders!"

Eranos summoned the executioner forward and directed him to stand beside Lucifer. "Do you accept the treason charges against you, Prince Lucifer? Do you admit to organizing this mob in direct defiance of my rule."

"I do, and I accept the King's punishment," Lucifer said.

"Do you?" Eranos said, cackling madly. "You claim to converse with the pattern, so you will need your ears. And you claim to be its mouthpiece, so I wouldn't deprive our people of its guidance. But you took my arm after I became king, and it is only fair that you lose something just as dear to you. Does that not sound fair?"

"You are a fair and just king," Lucifer said. "No one would claim any differently."

"My King," Vichondrius pleaded. "Let him go so he can lead us against the angels. He has fought with them once. His guidance should be invaluable."

"Shut up!" Eranos said, glaring back at him. "Lucifer will do what he was born to do. He will listen to the pattern and repeat its guidance to me, your ruler. To be a mouthpiece, you only need a set of ears, a mouth and a brain. I will deprive him of the rest of his faculties as I see fit, but first, out with his eyes!"

Eranos fired a bolt above the crowd, and the executioner jammed his zinanbar blades into the channeled beam of energy. Lucifer could hear the metal screaming as it super-heated in the torrent, but he didn't look at the daggers or the executioner. He kept his eyes forward and knelt down on the stage.

"Do not fear, my people," Lucifer said. "The future belongs to you. Your strength will be what wins us this war."

The crowd gasped. He could feel the heat of the daggers, even though they were over a foot away. He tried not to look at the implements of his torture.

_Stay focused_ , the pattern told him. _Think of Anne and your son. Do not scream out._

Lucifer tuned out the world around him and thought of the elven princess who should have been his queen. He imagined a red-haired, green-eyed naked boy in his arms. The boy's tiny hands tugged at his own small but elongated ears.

Two guards grabbed Lucifer by the arms, and he didn't fight them. As the world came back into view, the glowing daggers pointed at his face. He looked up at the executioner's black hood and into his eyes as the blades came closer and the searing, unbearable pain started.

The terrible smells of burning flesh wafted into his nose, and he tried not to think about the liquid dripping down his cheeks. He gritted his teeth and struggled to stay awake.

_Stand up_ , the pattern said. _Stand up, my son_.

Lucifer rose to his feet and stumbled between the guards as they guided him down the stairs.

"You're doing well, Prince Lucifer," one of them said. "Just keep putting one foot in front of the other."

"Thanks."

He could feel hands all over his armor as members of the royal guard pushed their way through the crowd, but he was shrouded in complete, desolate darkness.

"Long live Prince Lucifer," someone in the crowd said. "Love live the Prophet!"

***

Lucifer's boots echoed against the dungeon's stone walls as the prison guards carried him down the corridors. They stripped his gear at the armory and shoved him down the hallway. The last time Lucifer was here, he'd been waiting for the death of his parents.

A third guard joined them and walked ahead of the others.

"In here," he said.

The guards pushed Lucifer hard in the back, and he blundered into his cell. He tripped over the stiff mattress and crashed into the wooden table. He groped in the darkness for the bed.

"The great prophet can't see three feet in front of him," one of the guards said, drawing laughter from the others.

As the footsteps of the guards left the cell, Lucifer found the bed and pulled himself onto it. He ran his hands through his short, stubbly hair.

Apparently, not all of the guards had left.

"Tomorrow," the man in the room said. "I'll return to this cell and collect your arm."

Lucifer sighed. "King's orders, I'm sure."

"Yes," he said.

"Do you have a name?"

"Garion."

"Until tomorrow, Garion," Lucifer said.

The door shut behind Garion, and the lock rammed into place. Lucifer ignored the pain in his eye sockets and thought about the executioner cutting off his arm instead. He folded his hands across his face and screamed and cursed as bright color filled his periphery.

"Quiet down in there, Prophet!" a guard yelled from outside the door.

The yellowish light that came when he pressed his arms against his face left outlines as it dissipated. He looked to his left and saw the table he had run into when the guards pushed him into the cell. Beside that was a chair. He could even see luminous cracks in the far wall.

_Welcome to your new vision_ , the pattern said.

Lucifer sat up. "How is this possible?"

Do you believe what the oracles see is true?

"Is this what the oracles see?"

The oracles see a stream of time. Blinding themselves helps them focus on their gifts. Blinding you has allowed me to give you a stream into something else.

"And what's that?"

The building blocks of the Chaos projection.

The outlines vanished and darkness engulfed his vision once again. He pressed his hands into his eye sockets and winced as his nerves tingled with fresh pain across his body.

The acute yellow light came back and gradually disappeared into outlines. He grabbed a table leg and pulled himself to his feet. He watched the table as a shimmer of lines and small glyphs moved across the surface of the wood.

"What just happened?"

The texture changed. Watch the chair. It should be happening there soon.

Sure enough, the shimmer whispered across the seat. The pattern of lines and symbols changed like a wave altering sand dunes on a beach.

"Fascinating," Lucifer said.

"Hey," the guard outside yelled. "Am I going to have to come in there?"

"No, no," Lucifer said. "Sorry. I'll be quiet."

"Damned right, you will!"

Lucifer walked up to the wall and ran his hand along the cracks. The symbols, letters, and glowing lines broke all along the tear.

"What good does any of this do me?" Lucifer asked in a whisper.

Not even Batarel sees the world this way. Jehovah sees the universes as an oracle might—in streams of time. Both of them understand the theory of the lines and numbers, but only you can see them. Eventually, you will manipulate them.

"You mean I can change them?"

You'll never know until you try.

Lucifer traced the crack with a finger and observed as the symbols bent toward him. He tried running his finger against the grain, but the symbols behaved similarly. No changes. Just faint genuflections, like light bending around a glass of water or a planet in space.

If you wanted to physically change the wall with your hands, you'd probably be better off replacing the bricks of this wall with identical bricks.

"I don't have any bricks," Lucifer said. He waited for a response but none came. "How am I going to replace the missing pieces of brick if I don't have any bricks?"

The bricks are made of the foundations you see before you. If there are pieces of the foundations missing, then simply fill them in.

"I don't understand," Lucifer said.

He waited for more guidance, but the pattern was silent. When the outlines vanished again, he grew woozy. Time for more pain.

He groped around for the chair and sat down. He wiped the sweat from his lip and brow and massaged his temples before finally bringing himself to press his seared eyes.

He banged the table with his fist and bit his bicep. The guard didn't yell at him, so it must have been quiet enough this time. Maybe he just didn't like Lucifer talking. Groaning in pain was probably more appropriate to the sadistic guard.

Lucifer looked at the table and watched for another change wave. This time he put his finger down and watched as the wave crossed the table. It bent toward his finger as it passed, but the new wooden symbols were unaffected by his finger being there.

He focused on one of the blurry, glowing horizontal lines underneath the table surface and asked it to be vertical. "Change, please."

The line remained undisturbed.

_Don't ask it to change_ , the pattern said. _Command it to change._

Lucifer looked at the line and willed it to change to vertical. However, the line would not budge.

Stop seeing it as horizontal. Imagine it as vertical, and it will be so.

Instead of looking at the table for what it was, Lucifer imagined that the table had the vertical line he wanted in it. He could no longer see the horizontal line.

"How do I know if it worked?"

Another wave of symbol changes swept across the table, and a completely different symbol filled the position instead. Lucifer felt the surface of the table. It seemed tougher than earlier, but it was still wooden.

Changing a table into something else takes more than just modifying a single atom. Try filling in the cracks in the wall again.

Lucifer moved to the wall and ran his hand along the crack.

Don't focus on the symbols and breaks in the patterns that make up the crack. Focus on what you would like to fill it with instead.

Lucifer nodded and stared at the unbroken sections of brick next to the crack. He then looked at the crack and imagined he was looking at the unblemished brick. Eventually, he was unable to see the crack at all.

He backed away from the wall as the darkness came back to him. He pushed his hands into the remnants of his eyes and waited for the pain and brightness to die down. The crack in the brick was gone.

_Miracle number two_ , the pattern said. _Now fill all the cracks in the room._

***

Lucifer woke with his head on the table and a terrible pain in his arm. He must have gone to sleep on the chair instead of the bed.

"Good morning, Prince Lucifer," Garion said.

"What's going on?" Lucifer asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm leaving," Garion said.

Lucifer tried to raise his arm, but an intense pain stopped him, and the light was absolutely overwhelming. He grabbed his left elbow and felt something wet and sticky. As his hand slid upward, he found a gory stump. Another bright light filled his vision.

"I am sorry," Garion said, "but I told you that I would have to do this."

"King's orders," Lucifer said as he rocked in his chair. "I understand."

Garion raised Lucifer's severed arm in front of him. The sight of his appendage made Lucifer's head spin. He grabbed a wooden pail from beside the door and emptied the contents of his stomach. The door slammed shut and the lock fell in place.

The smell of the vomit was awful, but the outlines of the swirling contents in the pail made the retching worse. He rolled away from the bucket onto the hard floor and watched as a liquid approached his face. He sat up and traced the swirling waters back to himself. He was bleeding all over the place.

He ripped his shirt and used his teeth to tie it around the remains of his left arm.

He looked at the void where the lower half of his arm should have been and then stared at his remaining hand. He sighed at the complicated layers of skin, bone, and the constantly moving liquid.

_Doesn't mean it's impossible_ , the pattern said. _I guess it comes down to a simple question: do you want your arm back?_

Lucifer crawled to his chair and studied his right arm. The skin and hair didn't appear to be too much more complicated. It was alive, but it was relatively rigid in structure. The blood he could see coursing through veins, capillaries, and arteries was a different matter. He watched it spread into the skin.

_Memorize it_ , the pattern said.

"That will take hours," Lucifer said.

Were you planning on going somewhere?

Lucifer snarled and grabbed the tray of food that had been left next to the pail. If he was going to work for hours, he needed some sustenance.

***

Lucifer woke up in a familiar predicament. His restored left arm hung between his legs under the table, but as he turned his face to look at the right arm, he found nothing but void. The pain was once again excruciating, and the brightness gave him a headache.

"You know how long it's going to take me to grow that back?"

"What?" Garion asked.

_Shut up, you fool_ , the pattern said.

"Nothing... delirious..." Lucifer said.

"Obviously."

The brightness finally drained to outlines, and Lucifer saw Garion's bulky, robed body stepping through the door. He could see the other two guards through the walls.

"Garion?"

"Yes, Prince Lucifer."

"Where are you taking them, anyway?" Lucifer asked.

"The King awaits on the balcony over the market place," Garion said. "He hoists the appendage in the air, and the crowd boos him."

"He's crazy."

"Undoubtedly," Garion said. "But he's still my King."

Lucifer nodded. "Garion Agalal, I presume?"

"Yes."

The door closed and locked, and Lucifer ripped another section of shirt with his teeth and clamped his bleeding stump.

"He's not taking another piece of me," Lucifer said.

Then don't let him.

***

Lucifer woke and there was no pain this time, only the flutter of wings on his cheek as he reclined in the chair. A chaos butterfly had found its way through the dungeons and into his cell. Its head pivoted as it gave him light kisses on his nose, and he giggled but tried not to disturb it.

He memorized every line and contour and marveled at the pattern sequence its wings made when they rotated around and underneath the body. He wanted to make one.

"Ah, you're up," Garion said from behind the door.

The chaos butterfly flew away and flitted through the bars of the doorway. Garion swatted at the insect as he entered the cell and closed the door. Lucifer quickly tucked his hands under the table and realized that he was able to see the outlines now without feeling pain first. The vision seemed permanent.

"I'm glad you're here," Lucifer said.

"Oh, are you?"

Lucifer nodded. "I have a proposition for you."

"Look, just plop one of your feet on the table and let me do my job."

"I'm trying to save your life. Leave this cell now and take those guards outside with you, and I'll let you live."

Garion chuckled slightly, and Lucifer watched the outline of the grin grow wider. Within seconds, Garion was in deep laughter. He took another step toward Lucifer.

"Have it your way."

Lucifer watched Garion clumsily pull out a zinanbar knife and reach for the table. As Garion tried to flip the table, Lucifer grabbed the knife and plunged it into his neck. He grabbed the other blade from the executioner's side and severed his windpipe.

"Everything OK in there, Garion?" one of the guards asked.

Lucifer pressed his back against the wall beside the door.

"Actually, I think he's dead."

Lucifer could hear the key clanking against the lock as the guard frantically tried to open the door. Then he heard two soft thuds against the stone floor in the hallway. He peered through the walls and saw two forms hovering over the felled guards.

"Lucifer?" Sariel asked. "Are you OK?"

"What are you two doing here?" Lucifer asked.

"The pattern called for us," Batarel said. "So, we apparated in."

"The pattern talked to you?"

"Well," Batarel said. "No, it talked to Sariel, and Sariel summoned me."

Batarel turned the key in the lock, and Lucifer burst through the door.

"Quick," Lucifer said. "Put their armor on, and help me change into the executioner's garb."

"Lucifer," Sariel said. "You... you... have arms!"

"I was born with arms."

"Yes, but I saw those same arms being tossed into an angry mob over the past two days."

"Won't be my arms or legs today."

"How did you do this?" Batarel asked.

"Magic."

Sariel chortled.

"Are you telling me the pattern showed you how to regrow limbs?" Batarel asked. "Where the hell was the pattern when half my body was burned away?"

Sariel laughed again.

Lucifer and Batarel both looked at him.

"Um..." Sariel said. "Well, the pattern mentioned that it's not his fault that some stupid wizards put a cork in him for millions of years."

Lucifer didn't think Batarel could have gotten any redder, but remarkably, he turned a deeper shade of scarlet.

"Put the armor on," Lucifer said. "And hand me a decent-sized blade from one of those dead guys. I've got a plan."

Sariel grabbed a sword from one of the dead guards and passed it to Lucifer, who went back into the cell and hacked away at his torturer.

"I know the pattern has converted you into a believer in symbolisms," Sariel said, "but I think you are taking this too far."

"Get your armor on and hold these for a minute. I need to stop by the armory before I put this executioner's robe on."

"Why?"

"The people need a legend."

***

Lucifer exited the armory and pulled the executioner's robe over the armor he had fashioned from Anne's colors at Bulger's Pass. He pulled a piece of black cloth over his seared eye sockets and laughed as he caught a glimpse of Batarel's red midsection and elbows.

"Shut up," Batarel said. "I killed two other guards, and this was as close as I could get to my size."

"It looks nice," Lucifer said as he smiled through the slot in the executioner's mask and picked up the two legs on a chain that he had borrowed from Garion.

Batarel and Sariel flanked him as they made their way upstairs toward the growing mumble of the crowd. Lucifer was worried that it might be the wrong balcony until he heard the King's curses.

"Is that them on the steps?" Eranos asked an adviser. "What took you guys so long?"

"He was a fighter," Lucifer said in a deep voice.

Eranos nodded without looking at the two legs on the chain. "Well, let's go. Let's go. Hurry up! Not you two. You two, stay here. I just want the crowd to see the black hood."

Sariel and Batarel hung back while Lucifer followed the King up to the balcony.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the King announced to the hundreds of thousands of demons below. "I am pleased to tell you that the Prophet has given us another sermon from the dungeons, and I must tell you, he didn't hold back this time. The pattern gave him all kinds of insight..."

Eranos put his hand out without looking back, and Lucifer hung the chain with the two legs on it over his arm.

"Behold!" Eranos said as he raised the chain high above his head. "The prophecy!"

Eranos chuckled and shielded himself from the vegetables that the crowd threw at him. He finally looked at the dangling legs.

"Two legs?" Eranos asked and turned to Lucifer in fuming outrage.

"He tried to kick me," Lucifer said.

He looked out at the mourning citizens, many of whom sank to their knees at the news that their Prince had been rendered a quadriplegic.

"Tried to kick you?" Eranos asked.

"Yeah, like this!"

Lucifer booted Eranos in the middle of his chest and sent the King flying over the railing. He threw off his executioner's robe, exposing his shiny blue, silver, and white armor and drew his two zinanbar swords as he leapt over the balcony's edge in pursuit. His red wings whipped at the ground and cracked the cobblestones of the marketplace floor.

The crowd scattered and gasped as Lucifer twirled his blades and shielded himself.

Eranos crawled away on his hands and knees and turned around to see his attacker. His teeth chattered together when he caught sight of Lucifer, and he screamed curses and pleaded for help from any who were near.

But even the members of the royal guard wouldn't draw their swords.

His tearful eyes darted around the square, and seeing no aid coming, he fired bolt after bolt at Lucifer. The chaos bolts didn't even slow him down, though. The magic just bounced harmlessly into the skies above.

The crowd gasped as a green cloud formed, and Lucifer knew immediately what it was. He had watched the entire Council perish underneath such a tornadic deluge. He shielded himself and looked up at the funnel. He would need to concentrate.

Eranos cackled as the maelstrom descended faster, but the green cloud began turning yellow and pink and then a different texture. It broke apart into millions of little rotating wings and pivoting heads that scattered amongst the crowd and perched themselves on shoulders, hats, and shops all around the square.

Lucifer watched three of the chaos butterflies land on Eranos's face and chest. He approached him slowly, dropped one of his swords, and placed an armored glove on the back of the crazed king's neck.

"You say you are interested in a prophecy," Lucifer said. "I have one for you."

The crowd dared not breathe. Eranos continued to play with the wings of one of the butterflies. His mouth twitched horribly, and he mumbled under his breath.

"Chaos recovers from your terrible reign," Lucifer said. "Magic becomes a common curriculum for all of our demon children, and you are buried in an unmarked grave. Unloved and forgotten."

Lucifer thrust his sword into Eranos's chest and twisted. He kicked the dying demon from his blade and then climbed atop the central square of the market place, where his father and mother had died years ago. He raised his sword, and the crowd roared its approval.

He smiled as he watched the outline of Eranos's blood drip down the finely honed blade. He thought of his mother and father. He thought of his cousins, aunts and uncles who had been murdered in Eranos's undying hatred. But for the most part, as the demon mob swarmed the platform and hoisted him onto their shoulders, he thought of his beloved Anne and the son that the pattern promised would change everything.

Christian Kadingir, the savior of Chaos and prisoner of Order. It wasn't too long ago that Lucifer had been in the same position while trapped on Earth.

Lucifer looked up to the balustrade that he had just sent Eranos over moments ago. His brother and uncle had taken off their helmets and were all smiles and cheers. He waved to them as the crowd carried him out of the marketplace.

"Long live King Lucifer," Sariel yelled from the balcony as he hugged his uncle. "Long live the Prophet!"

#####

End of Lucifer's Odyssey – Book 1 of the Primal Patterns

Bonus: Chapter 25

Horace's First Lesson

Circa 3,500,000 BGS (Before the Great Sorrow)

Horace sat in the front row of his first patterns course, hoping to get a glimpse of Professor Tashen Taluntain. More importantly, he hoped the professor would notice him. He had not dressed to impress, not in the traditional sense. He instead dressed as a slacker genius, a persona that, from Horace's experience, had always won over college professors far faster than the well-dressed, conservative look that some of the other elves in the classroom tried.

Jeans. Flannel shirt. Unkept, curly hair. Black, stylish glasses. Patchy beard. Lounging in his chair more than sitting. That was Horace's look.

Being a teacher's pet was less a fast track to greatness than it was a challenge. He gained a certain kind of satisfaction from having a harder path than other students. The harder he worked, the more he learned. Being known to a teacher often resulted in extra, harder assignments. The harder the assignment, the more likely Horace was to reach understanding and even enlightenment.

He remembered every teacher he had ever had. The good ones. The bad ones. Even the ones who were only memorable in that they hadn't imparted anything too important. He had always had a natural ability to memorize, to internally categorize, and to recall facts and figures. But unlike many of his other comrades in scholastic arms, he knew he was different. He had always been able to piece things together, apply what he had learned, and push the field or harness the knowledge gained for some practical purpose.

In truth, Horace had been rich many times over. And not just from inheritance. He had built business empires, sold them, and built new ones. He had liquidated his assets four times over the years just to give them away to charities and begin again. And always, despite his accomplishments, he had sought knowledge. A new path. An interesting life. One with purpose.

And that's what was so exciting about Tashen Taluntain's class. It was the first time that Arnessan University had ever organized a pattern class. Taluntain had no professor portrait on the networking systems. As far as Horace could tell, no one had ever seen him in person. But this brilliant elf had written practically every useful academic paper on patterns that had ever existed. At least, according to anyone who even understood what patterns could do. The secrets of the universe.

Five minutes after the class should have started, the packed classroom was still full. Conversations had broken out amongst the tiered desks. Hundreds of hushed voices. The occasional tinkle of dangling earrings against each other along an elf's elongated ear. Pencils thumping against wooden desks and the creak of a student leaning against their chair to whisper or look busy. Horace crossed his arms and waited, speaking to no one.

A door slammed to the right, and a gray-haired elf with his hair pulled back shuffled to the desk in front of a chalk board. He was well-dressed. Dark gray suit. Pinstripes. His eyes darted around the room as he slammed books and a leather case onto the desk.

Professor Tulantain surveyed the class, wiping his hands against his jacket and tailored vest.

"Well," the elf said. "I see I am overdressed. This is my first class. Any other students I've ever had have been one-on-one. In my... office."

He tried to run his hands through his hair but appeared to realize that he had previously pulled it back into a tight bun.

"Right," he said. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Horace adjusted in his seat as he grabbed a pencil and hovered it over a notepad on his desk. All pretense of laziness and lounging was gone now. Replaced with that hunger for knowledge he had had since childhood.

"Much like me in this suit," the man said, "you've probably felt since birth that something has been off. Haven't you?"

The question was rhetorical obviously.

"From the dawn of intelligence, creatures have always asked the hard questions. Not mathematically hard, at least not in the traditional sense. Hard because the answers seemed unknowable. Hard because the answers might tear apart the fabric of their reality. Their ego."

The professor nodded with the class, as if acknowledging their problem.

"I some ways, I'm here to ease your fears," he said. "To clear the shadows, so to speak. To tear apart your world."

A nervous chuckle ran throughout the room like a wave, starting somewhere in the back left and working its way around the classroom.

Professor Taluntain smiled through his long gray beard.

"I'm assuming all of you are familiar with basic quantum mechanics," he said. "The concept of wave superpositions... The paradox of quantum superpositions..."

He looked to the class, his hands raised slightly.

"Two waves, traveling through space and time. We try to treat them as linear systems. If A produces X and B produces Y, then A+B must be X+Y, yes? But quantum superpositions are all around us. We see matter in multiple states. Not just one. Maybe two. Three. Maybe infinite. Not just waves, but basic elements. Electrons in more than one place at once. Matter that was there and not there. Why?"

This question didn't seem to be rhetorical. The professor waited for a response. For thirty seconds, he paced there. He may have waited longer for an answer, but Horace mustered up a small amount of courage.

"Because of the primal," Horace stated strongly with false confidence.

The professor nodded and turned back to the board. He took out a piece of chalk and furiously attacked the board behind him. A large circle. A smaller one inside of it that emanated arrows in all directions.

"At the heart of a universe is a primal. The primal emanates energy and realities in waves. Each reality is a superposition of everything within the primal."

Horace adjusted uneasily.

"Why is this a hard answer?" the professor asked, as he turned around. "What makes this knowledge hard? What hard questions come from this?"

There were a few mumbled answers throughout the room. Barely loud enough to make out.

"It's a hard answer," the professor said, "because if reality is a superposition, and you are part of reality, and there is something underneath it all, projecting this version of yourself..."

Horace felt a sickness in his stomach.

"Then," Horace piped up, "we are part of a simulation. Then reality is not real. Then we are not real. Something else is real."

"A natural line of thought," the professor said, walking up to Horace's desk. "But wrong."

"Wrong?" Horace asked.

The professor slapped him soundly across the face. Horace recoiled as his face reddened, more from embarrassment than the force of the hit.

"Was that real?" the professor asked. "Did that feel real?"

Horace stumbled a response but lingered somewhere between outrage from the slap and curiosity for the answer.

"What happens in this reality matters," the professor said. "Maybe even more in this shadow of the primal than any other. In order to explain why that's true, I first need to explain more about the primal and the interactions with realities, what I've come to call shadows—at least the ones in the air between the projector and the wall."

"Imagine a movie projector. A simple light, projecting images against a screen. If you walk in front of that projector, you'll cast a shadow on the wall, right?"

The students around Horace nodded.

"Now," the professor said, "what about the movie?"

"What about the movie?" Horace asked.

"The movie," the professor repeated. "It's a movie projector, right? And you've walked in front of it, casting a shadow on the wall. The primal, the movie projector, is trying to project something real onto the wall, and you've walked in front of it. Your shadow is on the wall. What else is going on on the wall?"

"The movie is playing?" A man asked nearby.

"Well, yes," the professor said. "Of course. Now, looking out from the primal, what do you see on the wall?"

"The movie?" someone else asked.

"Well, yes," the professor repeated. "Of course."

Horace internalized the scenario and imagined himself standing in front of a movie projector.

"A movie and a shadow," Horace said.

"Correct!" the professor said. "Now, imagine that you have spent your entire life watching that wall. Imagine you are in that reality. Imagine you were born in that reality. You don't realize it's not real, with you sitting in front of that wall, staring at it. More importantly, what else do you not realize?"

"That the shadow and the movie are different?" Horace asked.

"Correct!" the professor said triumphantly, smiling. "Absolutely right, you are! The same thing happens if you alter the lens. If you draw something on the glass of the projector, say, a red dot. That red dot will be on every frame that is projected. Every scene of the movie will have this red dot, and no one will know that the red dot is foreign. That it's a false part of the movie."

The class grew silent.

"Are you saying that's reality?" a female student asked. "That we're living in a movie?"

"Not exactly," the professor said. "You're living in a reality that is projected from the primal. You are a superposition of the potentials and emanations of the Elven Primal. And specifically, you and I are in the focus of the primal. Do you know what a focus is?"

Horace shook his head.

"The focus is the screen," the professor said. "It's the wall. It's the clearest projection of the primal. It's where the movie is clearest, where the essence of the primal is truly revealed. What you are experiencing is real because it is also reflected in what is happening in the primal."

The female student who asked if they were living in a movie shook her head.

"What happens if you look back at the primal?" Horace asked. "Do you see yourself?"

The professor shook his head. "Perhaps there is a primal pattern out there that works that way, but none that I am familiar with. Your eyes are made to see three dimensional objects. Some creatures can see more, but not you."

"You mean like thermal?" a student asked.

"Or sound?" another student offered.

"No," the professor said. "These are all senses for a three-dimensional space. You can feel heat, and you can translate that into distance. How far away is that heat source? How far away is that sound? Your senses can do that, but that's not what I mean. You would need a different kind of sense."

"Like time?" Horace asked.

"Now, isn't that interesting?" the professor asked. "What if you could see time? Would that help? If you rolled back time on the wall, would you see the primal?"

"No," Horace admitted. "You would just see previous frames of the movie."

"And maybe previous shadows," the professor said. "The ones that were projected onto the wall, on top of the movie, blocking it out. But these are just past images on the wall. Nothing more."

"So, how do you see the primal?" Horace asked.

The professor smiled to the class. He turned and walked back to the chalkboard. He pointed to the center of the circle, where the small circle had been—the projector. The primal.

"Imagine you are at a theater," the professor said. "Imagine your seat is turned toward the screen, where the movie plays. Imagine your seat holds you in place, and you must always look forward. How would you see the projector?"

"You turn around!" a student yelled.

"This is stupid," another student complained.

The professor shook his head. "You cannot turn around. You can only see the screen in front of you. You cannot see the projector. Your eyes are simply unable to see outside of the three dimensions of the present. And even if you could turn around, all you might see are the superpositions of all of the images and shadows between the primal and yourself."

"I don't understand," Horace said. "You're asking us to do the impossible."

"Not everyone can see the projector," the professor said. "Some are unable to. Some are unwilling to. But let's say that you desperately wanted to see the projector. How would you do it? In the movie theater, I mean."

"Is there anyone else there?" Horace asked.

"In the theater?" the professor asked. "All around you there are people. Millions. Billions. Watching the screen. But none of them can see the projector either. Why do you ask?"

"Is there someone there you can ask to see the projector?"

The professor grinned widely. "Yes. Absolutely, yes. You are not the first person to want to see the projector. You are also not the first person to be aware that what you are watching is a movie."

"Who else is there?" a student behind Horace asked.

Horace nodded as he bounced in his seat with anticipation. "Who else?"

"Who else?" the professor asked. "Well, someone had to have made the projector, right? Movie projectors don't just create themselves. And there are always staff in the theater, right? Ushers. The projector operator, if it's not automated. People at the concession stand."

"How is a person selling popcorn supposed to help you?"

"They don't," the professor said. "You have to ask the right person to take you to the projector. They have to know the path there—how to manipulate the shadow. How to get you from the wall to the projector."

"This is absurd," a girl beside Horace said. "How do you know any of this?"

"He's written articles," Horace said, gesturing toward the professor. "Academic papers."

The professor laughed heartily.

"My dear boy," he said. "I've written more than just articles. I've created more than just theory."

The professor turned toward the board and wrote his name "Tashen Taluntain." Below the text, he drew a line from "Tashen."

"Tashen," he said. "Ancient elven. Means pay close attention or listen."

"Are you saying that's not your real name?" the girl from earlier asked. "Are you saying this is a game? I'm not finding this particularly entertaining."

The professor drew a line from his last name.

"And Tulantain?" Horace asked. "That's enlightened, right?"

"Right," the professor said. "Pay close attention to the enlightened."

"Full of yourself, aren't you?" a student crouching low in his seat and hiding his mouth behind his hand asked.

"I didn't think of this name," the professor said. "The faculty thought it would be funny, and I went along with it. In truth, I'm not particularly fond of games. I don't have time for them."

"If you're not Tashen Taluntain," Horace said, "then who are you?"

"My name is Archimedes," the man said.

Gasps echoed across the room. The man who had been crouching in his chair, somehow managed to sink lower behind his desk.

"It's not the only name I've been given through the ages," Archimedes said. "Architect. Creator. Father. How do I know any of this? I created the Elven Primal."

He placed the chalk into the tray at the bottom of the board and grabbed his leather case and slung it over his shoulder. "And I created each of you."
**Acknowledgements**

One year after the publication of this novel, I have a lot to be thankful for. Lucifer's Odyssey has been downloaded tens of thousands of times from Amazon and other online vendors, and this has helped drive me toward the completion of the first trilogy. I cannot take credit for everything that went into this novel, and I would like to take a moment to reflect on all the people who made this series possible.

Other author works had a big influence on the concepts discussed in this series. Roger Zelazny's Great Book of Amber, in particular, was instrumental in inspiring me to envision a primal pattern and its effects on worlds it might project. One reviewer of Lucifer's Odyssey mentioned the movie The Matrix having strong similarities to the ending of Lucifer's Odyssey, and while that may be true, Zelazny and my own background in programming meta-environments had more to do with the way it was depicted in this book than anything in The Matrix. Other notable influences are Neal Stephenson and Vernor Vinge—though I wouldn't dare try to imply my books approach their caliber of epic fantasy or space opera. I am merely tipping my hat to influences that brought me to writing this series.

This book would not be anywhere near as enjoyable without the amazing efforts of Derek Prior at Homunculus Editing Services. The draft I sent Derek was the fourth or fifth draft, and the Lucifer's Odyssey that is available today is the product of an additional rewrite of the story with his guidance.

I received a lot of great feedback from beta readers and I think they deserve some serious recognition. Celia, Galena, Alyssa, and Angela, thank you for all of your patience and comments from beta reading the initial drafts of Lucifer's Odyssey and the prologue that is now attached to the Fifth Edition. Additionally, thank you to all the reviewers who gave their honest opinion. Although reviewer comments are intended for other readers, these helped me grow as an author as well.

Finally, thank you to my wife Jenny for standing by me throughout the writing, editing, and marketing of this series. You are awesome.

**About Rex Jameson**

Rex Jameson is the author of three novels in the Primal Patterns series, beginning with "Lucifer's Odyssey" and half a dozen short stories. An avid history buff and an unabashed nerd with an appetite for science fiction and fantasy, he loves to create complex speculative fiction with layered characters. He earned a PhD in Computer Science at Vanderbilt University and researches distributed artificial intelligence in robotics at Carnegie Mellon University. Rex and his wife Jenny live in Pittsburgh where they enjoy hosting family and friends.

Sign up for email updates at <http://eepurl.com/cNYnwX>. You can check out his blog at http://rex-jameson.com for movie and fiction reviews, and find out about events and news on Twitter at <https://twitter.com/rexjameson_fic>.

Mailing List | Blog | Facebook | Twitter

**Other Works by the Author**

The Primal Patterns Series (Lucifer's Fall Trilogy)

Book 1: Lucifer's Odyssey

Book 2: The Goblin Rebellion

Book 3: Shadows of our Fathers

The Perspectives Series

Book 1: Angels and Demons: Violent Afterlife

Book 2: Elves and Goblins: Father's Rebellion

Other Fiction

Hallow's Ween

"Don't Mess with the Meadow" in the  Pink Snowbunnies Ski in Hell Anthology.

"Saving Suzanna" in The Pride Collection.

To find out when Rex Jameson has a new release, sign up for his email newsletter at <https://rex-jameson.com/new-releases-email-list/>.

