Page 116 of Devil's Doom

Woland stands on a stone dais in the entrance cavern. He towers over us, and for once, he’s clothed in a pair of tight, black trousers and a leather vest, also black. He has no belt or weapons, but he looks dangerous, his eyes shining, teeth bared. I feel an inkling of respect. He looks like a true leader, fierce and unafraid.

I feel vindicated for that unpleasant conversation about his nudity we had long ago, because I was right. Wearing clothes as adornment makes sense.

A crowd of rebels fills every inch of the enormous space. It’s nighttime, and Lech, who stands by my side, whispers in my ear that it’s the coldest night of the year yet. Winter solstice is only eight days away.

I am surrounded by other healers, but Nienad isn’t here. He’s part of Woland’s secret team that will work on contaminating the fence’s magic while we draw the dragons’ attention away. I feel the excitement around me, making the air taut with possibility. Woland speaks with charisma, his confident voice carrying to the farthest nooks of the cavern.

“Tonight, all the work we did will finally pay off. This is the moment we’ve waited for. This is the reckoning.”

The rebels raise their weapons with a cry, and I bite the inside of my cheek, a tiny, suspicious voice in my head wondering whether Woland always makes promises like this before a battle. Maybe it’s a part of his war strategy, and people having unrealistic expectations are more likely to fight better—I don’t know. All I know is, I still don’t trust him. Not as my lover, and not as my leader.

But I hope it will change tonight. I’m tired of being the fulcrum of this conflict between love and distrust. I want to finally go one way or another, and the possibility of a resolution is what makes me excited for this fight.

I’ll be there to see the outcome. I’ll know what Woland’s word is worth.

And maybe I’ll give him my soul in the end.

“Some of you will die and be forced to serve Perun, but fear not! After Slawa, we will take Wyraj to end his tyranny once and for all. No death shall go unpunished, no sacrifice—unrewarded. Tonight, we end the tolls. Tomorrow, we end death!”

The cheers are deafening. Lech screams by my side, his eyes hot with zealous fire, body tight with anticipation. I look around, realizing that these aren’t people who’ve heard the same speech hundreds of times. There is fire around me, passion lit and ready to explode, and I shiver, wanting to scream with the crowd, yet unable to let go of the cynical voice in the back of my head.

Becauseending death?That’s the first time I hear of this. Is that even possible?

I know the people of Slawa go to roost in the Great Oak as birds after death. And I know after they serve their sentence in Perun’s land, they are sent back to be reborn as bieses in Slawa. Meanwhile, mortal souls go to Nawie, where they stay forever.

Is Woland planning to end only bies death or mortal death, too? My head spins, and the shouts of excitement around me only grow louder, muddling my thoughts.

“Are you ready to end slavery and terror?”

I fight the instinct to cover my ears as the crowd erupts with a unanimous roar. No, he definitely didn’t make these promises before today, or their enthusiasm wouldn’t be as enormous. I wonder why he’s so confident about this victory.

“Let’s go, then.”

Shadows wrap around Woland, and he disappears from the dais, suddenly appearing at my side. He lays a heavy hand on my shoulder as shadowy tendrils erupt from his body, shooting into the crowd. The cavern grows dark, filling with his black magic until all I see is darkness, and all I smell is him.

There’s a sensation of falling, and then we land, my feet touching frost-crunched grass. I’m still surrounded by the crowd, and Woland’s at my side, warm and reassuring. The first breath of cold air freezes my nostrils, and I look around as the shadows disperse. We’re on top of a grassy hill, everyone who was in that cavern transported here as one.

Woland doesn’t seem winded after such a feat. If I didn’t know how powerful he is, this would drive it home. Transporting over two hundred people over a significant distance is likely impossible for anyone but a god.

Below us, the first row of rebels stand just three steps away from the glittering, enormously high wall of Perun’s fence. It’s roughly twice as tall as Woland, and that’s including his antlers. It’s half-transparent, not built of bricks or stones, but of a gossamer-like, bluish shimmer that I know is pure magic.

I’ve never seen the fence, and it comes as a shock that it isn’t a physical barrier with how insurmountable everyone makes it sound. I knew it was magical, of course, but now I see it’s made of only magic, and thus, impossible to topple.

The key to destroying the fence lies underneath.

The magic is anchored to charged, runic stones that are buried underground, and those are the true targets. At the front line, Wera gives a call, rousing a large team of kobolds, strzygas, upirs, and chochols bearing shovels.

“Spread! Five paces between diggers! Stop! Dig!”

By my side, Woland scans the sky, his shadows hovering around his shoulders like a mantle. Warriors bearing weapons spread down the line of diggers, looking up with tension. We healers stand together, not yet needed. Lech gnashes his teeth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he, too, looks at the sky.

“Three coming from the east,” Woland says, his voice cool.

The rebels around us pick up his words and shout the message down the quickly spreading lines. More diggers run to the far sides of the front line, spreading farther and farther to cover as much ground as possible. Warriors stand, tense and grim, watching the sky.

“Nine from the north,” Woland says, his shadows thickening and rising like a cloud above us. “Twelve from the south. There will be more.”

We are somewhere on the border between Slawa and Wyraj. That means the city is in the north, and Wyraj lies to the south. The largest forces will come from beyond the fence.

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