Page 98 of The Road to Hell

Another pulse of magic exploded outward. This time, it didn’t throw me—it locked me down.

The magic coiled around my limbs like invisible chains, holding me against the broken ground. It was crushing, unrelenting. I could barely breathe. My muscles tensed as I fought against it, but the more I struggled, the heavier it became.

Gremory knelt beside me, his expression eerily calm.

“I always thought you were a waste of space,” Gremory said. “Hardly as important as you—and Lucifer—thought you were.”

I forced out a breath, vision blurred from the pain. But I managed to say, “Funny. I always thought you were just a self-important prick.”

His expression darkened. He shifted his boot, pressing down harder.

“You’re going to beg before this is over, Rathiel.”

I bared my teeth in a grin, despite the agony splintering through my ribs. “Then you don't know me as well as you think you do.”

A shadow leapt into the air behind Gremory.

Gorr.

Teeth bared, the ravager struck.

Gorr’s hulking form descended in a blur of dark hide and ridged horns, his jaws snapping shut around Gremory’s throat with bone-crushing force. The impact knocked Gremory off me as Gorr’s weight dragged him to the ground.

A strangled, wet snarl tore from Gremory’s lips as Gorr’s fangs sank deep, splitting flesh, unleashing a torrent of crimson. The scent of blood hit the air like a war cry—hot, powerful, celestial.

And mine to command.

Gremory’s magic fractured, his grip on me loosening just enough for me to shove free of the invisible hold. I rolled onto my knees, gasping against the pain in my ribs, my wings flaring wide as I forced myself upright. My fingers curled, calling the blood from Gremory’s wound, and it responded.

The crimson droplets quivered, then lifted, twisting into thin, razor-sharp daggers next to me.

Gremory roared, his power flaring. A shockwave of carnage magic blasted outward, slamming into Gorr with enough force to tear the ravager off him. Gorr snarled as Gremory threw him back, but the beast was resilient—he twisted his body, claws digging into the ground to steady himself, already preparing for another attack.

Gremory staggered upright, his hand clutching the gaping wound at his throat, dark magic curling around his fingers in a desperate attempt to knit himself back together.

But not before I struck.

I launched forward, my blood-forged blades slicing through the air. Gremory barely had time to react before the first dagger carved across his ribs, slicing through armor and skin alike. He snarled as he reeled back, but I was already on him.

Another slash. Another wound. More blood.

He tried to summon another shockwave, but I was faster. I turned his own blood against him, moulding it into spiked tendrils that shot toward him like arrows.

One pierced his arm.

Another shot through his chest.

The third drove straight through his wing joint.

Gremory let out a strangled roar, his body jerking violently as the spikes impaled him. And for the first time in centuries, he looked at me with something close to disbelief.

“You—” he gasped, blood speckling his lips.

I drove my sword straight into his shoulder, twisting it, carving deeper. I pulled more of his blood into the air, more power into my grasp. His magic lashed out in response, pure destruction rippling outward, but this time, I braced for it.

I gritted my teeth, absorbing the impact, my wings bracing against the force.

Gorr lunged again, slamming into Gremory’s back, his claws sinking into the fallen’s shoulders, his fangs snapping at his throat.

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