Page 40 of The Road to Hell

“And then?” Eliza prompted.

“And then,” I said, exhaling slowly, “we see what happens. We plant seeds of discontent, make them question my father’s reign. Hellspawn are loyal to him because there aren’t any other choices. So, we need to give them that choice. Show them that Lucifer isn’t the only power in Hell.”

Rathiel nodded. “It’ll end in a fight, no matter what. So prepare yourselves for that.”

“And when we win, they’ll start spreading the word. Upside, if enough hellspawn start talking, maybe it’ll draw out Levi. He told Rathiel to find me, so I imagine he’s also been waiting for word of our return. I also doubt he’ll sit this rebellion out. He’s as invested as we are.”

“What if he doesn’t pop up, though?” Eliza asked.

“Then we keep moving forward. We have our own mission here. Now, let’s get moving before another hellcat tries to make us their next meal.”

ChapterEleven

LILY

Fellmoor wasn’t a city—it was a carcass slowly rotting in the heat. The town’s buildings were warped and cracked from centuries of use and lack of care. Open pits dotted the ground between the structures, belching clouds of sulphur and heat. Chains hung from iron posts, swaying in the hot wind like dead things.

And the hellspawn? They fit right in.

Brimlords prowled through the outpost like they owned the place, their hulking forms towering above the others. They were Ezrion’s war machines, forged from hellfire and molten rock, and nearly impossible to kill. They stood over seven feet tall, with clawed hands and feet perfectly designed to shred their enemies to ribbons.

Among them, netherons haggled at the stalls, their deep crimson skin practically glowing. They breathed carnage, and since they were by-products of Gremory’s essence, that fit. Lucifer had designed them as soldiers—much like the brimlords—precise and unrelenting.

At the farthest edge of the outpost, a handful of sanguinari—aka vampires—stood apart from the rest, their pale skin ghostly white in Hell’s firelight. If I had to bet, they could smell mine and Eliza’s blood from here. They wouldn’t attack now, not while we stood out in the open, but the second we showed weakness, they’d be on us like wolves.

Thankfully, I didn’t see any plaguebearers here. If there was one breed of hellspawn I hated, it was those festering sacks of disease. Their claws dripped with sickness, their presence enough to make any sane creature keep a wide berth. Even hellspawn knew not to tangle with Miriel’s creations unless they were willing to gamble with their health.

I spotted venerath and vexori in the central market—Raelia’s and Gavrel’s handiwork respectively. Both reveled in corruption and chaos and were unpredictable at best. I also saw a few ravagers—massive quadrupedal hellspawn, from Tavira’s line, with rippling coiled muscle and thick, gnarled horns.

All in all, a decent showing of hellspawn. Most paid us no mind, too caught up in their own grim routines, but a few weren’t so indifferent. Their eyes tracked us as we moved through town, suspicion lurking in their eyes, as though debating whether they should rip us apart.

That was fine. I’d give them the fight they were looking for. I just needed to find the biggest, meanest bastard around. A brimlord, certainly. Take one of them down, and all the others would fall in line.

Rathiel had managed to scrounge up more appropriate gear for us—leather-armored tunics and cloaks stitched from skinned hellbeasts, the material rough and dark. Our disguises helped some, but not enough. Even with our hoods drawn low, we stood out. Most hellspawn didn’t hide beneath cloaks. It was only a matter of time before one of the bolder ones stepped forward and demanded we stop skulking.

“This place is charming,” Eliza muttered, eyeing the craggy structures and narrow alleys with thinly veiled disgust. “Really gives off a warm and fuzzy feeling. And you weren’t kidding about the hellspawn. They areugly.”

I refrained from laughing, knowing the sound would attract unwanted attention.

Vol rode in the hood of her cloak, his hands wrapped around her hair for balance. We’d decided it’d be best for him to remain with her, so I could handle Purrgy, whose carrier now hung from my shoulder. We’d left our packs outside the outpost, so we weren’t carrying as much, but I’d refused to leave Purrgy behind—not with a hellcat so close by.

Rathiel walked beside me, also donning a hooded cloak. He scanned the crowd, cataloging every threat with his signature calm intensity. “Keep moving.”

I kept my voice low. “Stick to the plan.”

Eliza snickered. “As a merc, I’m often looking for a fight, but I can honestly say I’ve never just strolled into a town looking to beat someone up just to make friends. What an ass-backward concept.”

I smiled at her comment, then pointed toward the center of the outpost. “Over there.”

We navigated through the crowd, carefully picking our way between the open pits and snarling hellspawn bartering at makeshift stalls. Weapons, bone charms, glowing crystals—it was all for sale, though the vendors didn’t look particularly eager to haggle. Occasionally, I caught glimpses of strange relics tucked among the usual wares—twisted bits of metal that looked almost celestial in origin, cracked and tarnished by Hell’s touch.

Eliza nudged me, jerking her chin toward a group of hellspawn arguing near a stall piled high with blood-red stones. Their voices were loud, punctuated by low growls and snarls, their conversation steadily heating up.

She raised a questioning brow, and I nodded. Never hurt to catch up on the latest hellspawn gossip.

We inched closer, keeping our heads down and studying the items a few stalls over while purposely eavesdropping.

“—palace is more fortified than ever. Got through the outer gates, but that’s as far as they’d let me.” A vexori jabbed a finger into the chest of the netheron across from him. “I’ve been running supplies there for years, and they’ve never locked it down like this.”

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