Page 64 of Hell's Secret Omega

Lightfrom a hundred torches dances across the surface of the Hellspring. Smooth, black, and unyielding, the Hellspring is cupped in the palm of a volcanic cenote, its shore utterly smooth and dropping off at a dangerous angle into the waters. Guards are posted at the edges of the lake but no one ventures close to the sloping shore. Slide in, and there’s no escape. A single pier juts into the center, and at the end is an eye that opens into the spring itself. It’s where souls are given a second life, like Cyrus once was. When the war was active, companies returning from the battlefield would bring their wounded down the dock to dip a finger in the water, and they’d be healed.

Before the coup, Cyrus heard rumors the Hellspring stopped healing. He stares down at the foreboding, glassy surface.

It was going to be my salvation.But looking at the water now, fear strikes him deeply. Something feels wrong.

The gathering of demons parts to let General Leuther through. Andeolus and Magnus stay on the shore, their backs to the crowd as Leuther strides down the pier with two burly captains at his side. The remaining generals are arrayed on shore—six out of what was once a dozen. Behind them, officers, majors and captains watch avidly.

Not so long ago Cyrus would have given anything to become one of them—a ranked officer. Powerful, respected, given the King’s ear freely. He hated playing the part of the King’s little niad, the spying worm he sent forth to gather secrets.

Now he feels distant from his envy. A deep longing to be away from this place washes over him instead, throbbing in time with his wounds.

Mezor showed him a different life. One that might be gone forever. He bites his cheek hard and tastes bitterness.

A roar billows up from the crowd and drifts into the domed roof of the cave. Fangs flash. Pikes stab the air. A muddled chant forms amidst the shouting.King Leuther. King Leuther.It digs into Cyrus’s ears. Every demon is hungry to know what’ll happen.

If one general can be crowned King, anyone can be crowned King.

Every demon watches hungrily.

At the edge of the eye, Leuther strips off his cloak and uniform and leaves them in a heap. He turns, his arms spread wide.

“Prepare to bow to your new King. I am building a new throne in a new Court! I will take ownership of Hell and usher in an era of domination.”

Shouting bursts from the assembled demons, whether approval or anger Cyrus can’t tell.

Hell isn’t yours to take! It belongs to Mezor’s people,he wants to yell. He curls his fists in useless defiance. But he can’t tear his eyes away as the two captains grab Leuther’s arms and lift him over the center of the eye, where the circle opens to the water. Slowly, they lower him in. Leuther’s howl of triumph rises above the rest of the noise. The torches flicker. Inch by inch he’s swallowed by the water.

A hush falls over the crowd. The prisoners next to him clank their chains impatiently.

Without the King’s blessing, will the Hellspring work?

The first thing to break the silence are twin shouts of agony from the two captains. One captain drops Leuther’s grey hand and stumbles away from the eye, clutching his own wrist. His fingers are black. The other falls to his knees, clawing at the place where his and Leuther’s hands are joined. He crawls backward, dragging Leuther’s arm out of the Hellspring.

Cyrus watches in horror as the flesh is revealed. It’s blackened and twisted, ichor streaming from the skin. Soldiers rush down the pier but stop short of reaching into the water, frightened. Shouting erupts.

The second captain isfusedto General Leuther by his hand. His arm jerks back and forth as he struggles to free himself, but their flesh has been entwined by the spring. Leuther flails, his free hand scrabbling for the edge of the eye and trying desperately to find purchase. Horns rise from the water, four, six, and more, growing rapidly with the power of the Hellspring. His head surfaces briefly. The noise of rage and agony that erupts from his lipless mouth sends an icy shudder down Cyrus’s spine.

He swallows his own noise of horror.

“He’s already dead,” mutters one of the prisoners in Cyrus’s line.

General Andeolus marches down the pier as snarls rise from the remaining generals on shore. He gestures sharply at the soldiers.

“Bring him up!”

The soldiers hesitate.

Before Andeolus can speak again, Leuther’s head swings back and his horns catch the second captain by his leg. With a shout, the demon tumbles backward through the eye. Leuther’sagonized face surfaces for a flash. Then both demons sink beneath the surface. The Hellspring closes over as if they never existed, leaving not even a ripple.

They’re gone.

The soldiers turn tail and flee, ignoring General Andeolus’s shouts. The crowd dissolves as demons rush the mouth of the cave. For a moment Cyrus loses sight of the lake. Leuther’s disintegrating arm lingers like an afterimage on the back of his eyelids.

Prickles crawl over his skin.

Moments of chaos pass. The prisoners jerk the chain trying to escape, but the press of bodies is too dense. Andeolus appears out of nowhere with soldiers at his side, and the prisoners yell until the soldiers lash them into silence with the butt of their pikes. Cyrus grits his teeth and keeps his head down.

“Take them to the cages,” General Andeolus orders. “We’ll deal with them later.”

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