The bone-carved transport vessel cut through Hell's crimson sky like a dark arrow, returning from the Obsidian Tower to Lillith's palace. Inside, the tension was thick enough to slice with a demon blade. Ethan sat across from Lillith, acutely aware of their binding pulsing with her unspoken emotions—a complex cocktail of relief, anger, and something deeper he couldn't quite name.

  "So," he finally broke the silence, "that went well."

  Lillith's ember eyes snapped to his, narrowing dangerously. "Did it? My cousin publicly challenged and nearly compromised you, the district lords witnessed revelations about Alcazar that undermine my authority, and we're no closer to understanding Zara's true agenda."

  "On the plus side," Ethan countered with a half-smile, "I got to see you jealous. It was kind of adorable."

  Her expression would have frozen lava. "I do not get jealous. I was merely... protective of my investment."

  "Right. That's why the temperature dropped twenty degrees every time Zara touched me through that mirror wall."

  A muscle twitched in Lillith's jaw. Through their binding, Ethan felt her irritation spike, followed by something that felt suspiciously like embarrassment.

  "The Labyrinth test was designed to create false intimacy," she said dismissively. "Zara manipulated the challenge to her advantage."

  "And yet I won." Ethan leaned forward, close enough to catch her scent—dark spices and midnight blooms. "Or we both did, technically. What do you think that means?"

  Before she could answer, the vessel shuddered as it docked at the palace's eastern platform. General Azrael awaited them, his scarred face even grimmer than usual.

  "Your Magnificence," he bowed. "Urgent matters require your attention. The Reformists have seized the Third Circle's soul processing facilities. And..." he hesitated, eyes flicking to Ethan, "...there have been developments regarding Councillor Drazil's disappearance."

  Lillith's posture shifted instantly from regal irritation to predatory alertness. "Show me."

  As they followed Azrael through the palace corridors, Ethan noticed subtle changes in the atmosphere. Guards stood at heightened readiness, servants scurried with unusual purpose, and the very air seemed charged with anticipation.

  "The palace feels different," he observed quietly.

  "News travels quickly in Hell," Lillith replied. "What happened at the Obsidian Tower will already be circulating among the court. Perceptions are shifting."

  "Is that bad for us?"

  Her sidelong glance held unexpected heat. "Us? A fascinating choice of pronoun, pet."

  Before he could respond, they arrived at what appeared to be an interrogation chamber. The circular room was dominated by a central pillar of swirling darkness, within which a small, multi-eyed demon hung suspended—Vesper.

  "What is this?" Lillith demanded, her voice dangerously soft.

  "Treason, Your Magnificence," Azrael replied. "We intercepted messages between Vesper and Zara's agents. She's been feeding information to your cousin for months."

  Ethan studied the suspended demon with surprise. "Vesper? But she seemed completely loyal."

  "The best traitors always do," Lillith approached the pillar, shadows gathering around her hands. "Release her."

  The darkness dissipated, dropping Vesper onto the stone floor. All six of her eyes blinked rapidly, adjusting to the light before focusing on Lillith with a mixture of fear and defiance.

  "Explain yourself," Lillith commanded.

  To everyone's surprise, Vesper laughed—a high, brittle sound. "Explain? As if your precious human hasn't made everything clear. The White Flame returns, and you bind yourself to it like a lovesick fledgling." Her multiple eyes narrowed. "Some of us remember what happened last time, Your Magnificence."

  "You weren't even spawned when Alcazar fell," Azrael growled.

  "No, but my lineage carries the memory." One of Vesper's eyes swiveled to fix on Ethan while the others remained on Lillith. "The Queen of Succubi and the Demon Slayer, together again. What a perfect recipe for Hell's destruction."

  Lillith's hand shot out, shadows solidifying around Vesper's throat. "You betrayed me to Zara. Why?"

  Despite her precarious position, Vesper maintained her defiance. "Zara promises stability. Preservation of the old ways. You..." her eyes flicked to Ethan, "...you rush toward revolution without even realizing it."

  "Revolution," Ethan repeated. "Like Grimmok's rebellion?"

  A smile twisted Vesper's delicate features. "Grimmok is a pawn. A useful distraction while real power shifts in the shadows."

  Lillith's grip tightened. "What is Zara planning?"

  "Something you'll never see coming until it's too late." Vesper's voice grew strained as the shadows constricted. "She knows things about your precious pet that even you haven't discovered. About the Void and what truly waits beyond the seal."

  A flash of uncertainty crossed Lillith's face, so brief only Ethan noticed it through their binding. "Lock her in the obsidian cells," she ordered. "Full containment protocols."

  As guards dragged Vesper away, she called back over her shoulder, "Ask your scholar about the Codex of Flames! Ask what he's been hiding from you!"

  The chamber fell silent after her departure. Lillith turned to Azrael, her expression stone. "Double the palace guard. Restrict access to all inner chambers. And find Mephisto—immediately."

  "Yes, Your Magnificence." The general bowed and departed, leaving Ethan alone with Lillith.

  "So," Ethan said lightly, "I'm guessing this wasn't just a routine case of demonic workplace drama?"

  Lillith didn't smile. "Vesper had access to our most sensitive intelligence. If she's been feeding information to Zara all this time..." She trailed off, the implications hanging heavy in the air.

  "And this Codex of Flames? The thing the angel Raziel also mentioned?"

  Lillith's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "When did Raziel speak of the Codex?"

  Ethan hesitated, realizing he'd never told her the full details of his vision in the training chamber. Through their binding, he felt her sudden spike of suspicion, quickly followed by hurt at his concealment.

  "During that weird vision in the training room," he admitted. "He told me to find it in the deepest archive."

  "And you didn't think to mention this?" Her voice was dangerously calm, but the binding between them pulsed with turbulent emotion.

  "There wasn't exactly a good moment between assassination attempts, rebellions, and your cousin trying to seduce me in a magical mirror maze," Ethan pointed out.

  Lillith turned away, her profile sharp against the chamber's dim light. "The Codex is said to contain the complete history of Alcazar and the Flame Bearers before him. It's been lost for millennia—or so I believed."

  "And Mephisto might know where it is?"

  "Mephisto knows many things he doesn't share," she replied cryptically. "Come. We need to search his chambers before he realizes we're onto him."

  ---

  The ancient scholar's quarters were located in the palace's forgotten wing—a section so old that reality itself seemed to thin around its edges. The architecture shifted subtly, corridors bending at impossible angles, doorways appearing and disappearing depending on the viewer's perspective.

  "This place is a nightmare for furniture delivery," Ethan quipped as they navigated a hallway that appeared to loop back on itself while somehow still progressing forward.

  "Mephisto rewrites space to protect his privacy," Lillith explained, her hand on Ethan's arm guiding him through distortions only she could see. "Few can reach his inner sanctum without invitation."

  "But you can?"

  A dangerous smile curved her lips. "I'm the Queen, Ethan. There are no doors in Hell closed to me."

  As if to prove her point, she placed her palm against what appeared to be a solid wall. Shadows pooled around her fingers, seeping into the stone like ink into paper. With a sound like a massive beast exhaling, the wall dissolved, revealing a vast circular chamber beyond.

  "Whoa," Ethan breathed.

  Mephisto's sanctum was a bibliophile's fever dream. Books lined every surface—shelves that spiraled from floor to ceiling, stacks that defied gravity, volumes bound in materials Ethan couldn't identify and didn't want to. At the chamber's center sat a desk crafted from what appeared to be fossilized lightning, its surface covered with scrolls and artifacts that shimmered with barely contained power.

  "He's not here," Lillith observed, moving toward the desk with predatory grace. "Search for anything related to the Codex or Alcazar."

  Ethan approached the nearest bookshelf, only to find the volumes rearranging themselves as he reached for them. "That's annoying," he muttered, snatching at a book that kept sliding away from his grasp.

  "The library defends itself," Lillith explained without looking up from her own search. "Focus your intent. The binding gives you access to some of my authority here."

  Ethan concentrated, drawing on the connection between them. The sensation was strange but exhilarating—like flexing a muscle he hadn't known he possessed. The books stilled, allowing him to examine their spines.

  "'Culinary Traditions of the Sixth Circle,'" he read aloud. "'Advanced Metaphysical Torture Techniques.' 'Demonic Mating Habits Volume XII.' Fascinating reading list."

  "Focus, Ethan."

  "Right, sorry. Just never expected Hell's Library of Congress to include a cookbook section."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  He continued scanning the shelves, moving deeper into the chamber's recesses. The lighting grew dimmer, the books older and more ominous. Some appeared to be breathing; others whispered as he passed.

  In the furthest corner, partially concealed behind a bookshelf that seemed to be composed of compressed darkness, Ethan spotted an alcove. Within it stood a pedestal bearing a single book bound in what looked like metal that had been repeatedly melted and resolidified.

  "Lillith," he called. "I think I found something."

  She appeared at his side with supernatural speed, her proximity sending a jolt through their binding. "The Journal of Belphagor," she read from the cover. "Interesting, but not the Codex."

  "Why would Mephisto hide Belphagor's journal in the creepy corner behind the shadow bookcase?" Ethan reached for it, only to have Lillith catch his wrist.

  "Careful. Demon journals often contain traps for unauthorized readers."

  Her hand remained on his wrist a beat longer than necessary, her cool fingers sending ripples of awareness up his arm. Through the binding, Ethan caught a flash of her consciousness—concern for his safety mingled with something warmer, more possessive.

  "You know," he said with a half-smile, "for someone who claims to see me as just a 'valuable asset,' you sure worry about me a lot."

  Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't release his wrist. "You're bound to me. Your well-being is my concern."

  "Mmm-hmm. And that's why your pulse quickens when we touch? Purely professional concern?"

  Instead of the sharp retort he expected, Lillith stepped closer, invading his personal space with deliberate intent. Her free hand came up to rest against his chest, directly over his heart.

  "You're treading dangerous ground, pet," she murmured, her voice dropping to a register that sent heat spiraling through his system. "Especially given how receptive you were to my cousin's attentions today."

  "Jealousy looks good on you," Ethan replied, his own voice rougher than intended. "Almost as good as that battle armor."

  Her eyes darkened, pupils expanding as she leaned in closer. The binding between them hummed with shared energy, white and violet light shimmering beneath their skin where they touched.

  "I don't share what's mine," she said, each word precise and weighted. "And make no mistake, Ethan Rayner—you are mine."

  The possessive declaration should have offended him. Instead, it sent a jolt of heat through his core that had nothing to do with magical bindings and everything to do with the way her body pressed against his in the shadowed alcove.

  "Prove it," he challenged softly.

  For a heartbeat, surprise flashed across her perfect features—surprise that quickly transmuted into predatory interest. Her hand slid from his chest to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair with controlled strength.

  "Careful what you wish for," she warned, though the hunger in her voice belied any true caution.

  The distance between them vanished as Lillith claimed his mouth with hers. Unlike their previous kisses—performed for politics or ritual—this was raw, unfiltered need. Her lips were cool fire against his, demanding and relentless. Ethan responded with equal fervor, his free hand finding the small of her back and pulling her more firmly against him.

  The binding between them flared with sudden intensity, energy cycling between their bodies in accelerating loops. Where they touched, white and violet light danced beneath their skin, illuminating the shadowed alcove with ethereal radiance.

  Lillith made a sound against his mouth—something between a growl and a purr—that sent shivers racing down his spine. Her hand tightened in his hair, angling his head to deepen the kiss. The taste of her was intoxicating—exotic spices and something darker, more primal. Ethan found himself drowning in sensation, the world narrowing to the points where their bodies connected.

  Through the binding, he caught flashes of her consciousness—possessiveness, yes, but also relief and a hunger so deep it frightened her. The vulnerability in that unguarded moment was more arousing than any deliberate seduction could have been.

  Her other hand released his wrist, sliding up his arm to his shoulder, then down his chest with possessive intent. Every touch left trails of cool fire in its wake, heightening sensitivity to impossible levels. When her fingers found the edge of his tunic and slipped beneath to trace patterns on bare skin, Ethan's breath caught audibly.

  "Mine," she murmured against his lips, the word vibrating through their connection with primal satisfaction.

  He was about to respond when the binding between them flared with sudden warning. Danger, it pulsed. Near.

  They broke apart simultaneously, both turning toward the chamber's entrance just as a shadow detached itself from the wall. Mephisto stood watching them, his ancient face unreadable.

  "Your Magnificence," he said, his parchment voice betraying no surprise at finding them in his private sanctum. "I see you've discovered my little collection."

  Lillith stepped forward, her composure reasserting itself with impressive speed despite her slightly swollen lips and the flush that lingered on her violet skin.

  "Where is the Codex of Flames, Mephisto?" she demanded.

  The ancient scholar's milky eyes shifted to Ethan. "So, the questions begin. Earlier than I expected, but not unwelcome."

  "No riddles," Lillith's voice cracked with authority. "You've kept secrets long enough. Vesper named you before she was detained."

  "Vesper?" Mephisto's withered face contracted in what might have been surprise. "Ah, I see. A clever misdirection by the true traitor."

  "What are you talking about?" Ethan asked.

  "Your multi-eyed friend is no more a traitor than I am," Mephisto replied. "Though I suspect that's not the reassurance you were hoping for."

  With movements too fast for his apparent age, Mephisto reached into his robes and withdrew a small orb of pulsing crimson light. Before either could react, he smashed it against the floor.

  Reality fractured. The sanctum shattered into fragments that spun around them like a kaleidoscope breaking apart. Ethan felt Lillith grab his arm, anchoring him as the world remade itself.

  When the disorientation passed, they stood in a corridor deep beneath the palace—rough-hewn stone illuminated by bioluminescent fungi that cast eerie blue light across the walls.

  "The catacombs," Lillith said, her voice tight with anger. "He trapped us in the lower passages."

  Ethan looked around, trying to get his bearings. "Where exactly are we?"

  "Below the palace foundations. These tunnels predate my rule—perhaps even Hell itself." She ran a hand along the nearest wall, shadows coiling around her fingers. "Mephisto's banishment spell was powerful. It will take time to counter."

  "So we're stuck down here?" Ethan glanced uneasily at the surrounding darkness. "Just the two of us, alone in tight, winding tunnels for hours?"

  Despite the situation, Lillith's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Disappointed by the interruption, pet?"

  "Well, the timing could have been better," he admitted. "I was just getting to the good part."

  Her smile widened, revealing the points of her fangs—a rare, genuine expression that transformed her face from imperial beauty to something more approachable, more real. "The 'good part' will have to wait. We need to find a way out of these tunnels."

  "Because...?"

  "Because Mephisto would only trap us here if he needed time. And if Vesper isn't the traitor..." her expression darkened, "...then someone else in my inner circle is working with Zara."

  Ethan processed this. "Azrael? He seemed genuinely loyal."

  "Appearances can be deceiving." Lillith started down the corridor, shadows gathering around her hands to illuminate their path. "Come. These tunnels connect to the old archives. If we're lucky, we might find answers while we're down here."

  They moved through the winding passages in silence, the only sounds their footsteps and the occasional skittering of unseen creatures in the darkness. The tunnels twisted and branched, forming a labyrinth that would have been impossible to navigate without Lillith's innate sense of direction.

  After what felt like hours, the passage widened, opening into a vast cavern. Ancient columns stretched from floor to ceiling, carved with symbols that predated demonic language itself. At the cavern's center stood a single pedestal of black stone, empty save for a thin layer of dust.

  Lillith approached it slowly, her expression uncharacteristically uncertain. "The Archive of Forbidden Knowledge," she murmured. "I haven't been here in millennia."

  "Forbidden knowledge, huh?" Ethan eyed the imposing columns. "Like demonic tax evasion strategies or how to get blood out of silk?"

  "Like the true history of the Sundering," she replied, her voice solemn. "The records of Alcazar's rise and fall. The prophecies of his return."

  She placed her palm on the empty pedestal, shadows flowing from her fingers to dance across its surface. "The Codex was kept here, along with other artifacts from that time. All removed, apparently."

  "By Mephisto?"

  "Perhaps." Her eyes met his across the pedestal. "Or perhaps by someone who anticipated I might eventually bring you here."

  A subtle vibration ran through the cavern, dust shaking loose from the ancient columns. Lillith tensed, head tilting as if listening to something beyond human perception.

  "We're not alone," she whispered.

  The warning came just as shadows at the cavern's edge coalesced into humanoid forms. Seven figures materialized—each identical, each wearing armor that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Their faces were hidden behind masks of bone carved to resemble screaming victims.

  "Shadow Walkers," Lillith hissed, power gathering around her hands. "Zara's elite assassins."

  "Friends of yours?" Ethan asked, backing toward Lillith until they stood shoulder to shoulder.

  "The opposite." She turned slightly, positioning herself between him and the nearest attacker. "They're specifically trained to hunt higher demons."

  "And humans with fragments of ancient demon-slaying warriors?"

  "Especially those." Her eyes narrowed as the Shadow Walkers began to circle them. "Stay close to me. The binding will offer some protection."

  The attackers moved with unnerving synchronization, their movements too fluid to be natural. They carried no visible weapons, but as they drew closer, their very shadows extended into blades of pure darkness.

  "Your pet has caused quite a stir, Majesty," one spoke, its voice like gravel over metal. "Our mistress merely wishes to... examine him more closely."

  "Your mistress can submit a formal request for an audience," Lillith replied, shadows boiling around her like living armor. "Preferably after I've removed her head from her shoulders for this treason."

  The Walker laughed—a sound like breaking bones. "Always so possessive, Lisara. Some things never change, even across millennia."

  The use of her ancient name visibly startled Lillith. Before she could respond, the Walkers attacked as one.

  What followed was chaos. Lillith moved with supernatural speed, shadows extending from her body to form weapons and shields as needed. Two Walkers fell within seconds, their bodies dissolving into mist upon death.

  Ethan found himself backed against a column, a Walker advancing on him with methodical purpose. As it raised its shadow-blade, instinct took over. He didn't think, didn't plan—his body simply moved, dodging the strike with precision that shouldn't have been possible.

  The Walker paused, its bone mask tilting in apparent surprise. "The muscle memory returns," it observed. "Fascinating."

  "I took a self-defense class at the Y," Ethan quipped, circling away from the column. "Great for core strength."

  The Walker lunged. Again, Ethan's body responded without conscious direction, sidestepping the attack and countering with a precise strike to the creature's midsection. His hand should have connected with armor—instead, it passed halfway through the Walker's body, as if punching fog.

  "Solid effort," the Walker mocked, reforming around his arm and trapping it. "But shadow cannot be struck by mere flesh."

  "Then how about this?" Ethan closed his eyes, focusing on the binding between himself and Lillith. The connection pulsed in response, white energy flowing through his veins toward his captured arm.

  Light erupted from his skin, so bright it momentarily transformed the cavern into midday. The Walker shrieked, its shadowy form burning where it contacted Ethan's illuminated flesh. It released him, retreating several steps.

  "The White Flame," it hissed. "So it's true."

  Across the cavern, Lillith dispatched another Walker, turning at the flash of light. Her eyes widened at the sight of Ethan glowing with contained power.

  "The binding," she called to him. "Use it to channel the energy!"

  Ethan focused, drawing on his training from the past weeks. The white light responded, flowing through the pathways they had mapped together. It concentrated in his hands, forming not quite weapons but fields of energy that disrupted the Walkers' shadowy forms.

  Two more attackers converged on him, clearly recognizing him as the priority target. Ethan met them head-on, his body moving with borrowed skill while white energy pulsed from his hands in controlled bursts. Each contact sent the Walkers reeling, their shadows temporarily disrupted.

  Lillith fought her way to his side, her movements a deadly dance of precision and power. Together, they formed a perfect defensive unit—her shadows complementing his light, each covering the other's vulnerabilities.

  Through the binding, they moved in unconscious synchronization. When Lillith ducked, Ethan struck over her head. When he stepped back, she filled the space with lethal shadow-strikes. They anticipated each other's movements without words, functioning as a single entity with two bodies.

  "This is familiar," Ethan managed between attacks, the exhilaration of battle making him reckless. "You and me, fighting side by side. Like old times, huh?"

  Lillith's smile was fierce and predatory. "Focus, pet. Reminisce later."

  The remaining Walkers, seeing their advantage lost, retreated to regroup. One—seemingly the leader—stepped forward.

  "Impressive coordination," it acknowledged. "The ancient patterns reassert themselves. But this is merely a prelude, Your Magnificence. The real performance awaits."

  "Deliver a message to your mistress," Lillith replied, shadows coiling around her like living armor. "The next time she sends assassins, I'll return them to her in pieces small enough to fit in a teacup."

  The Walker's bone mask somehow conveyed amusement despite its fixed expression. "Oh, we're not assassins today, Majesty. We're messengers. And distractions."

  Ethan felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cavern's temperature. "Distractions from what?"

  As if in answer, a tremor ran through the ground beneath them, stronger than before. Dust and small stones rained from the ceiling.

  "The Archive isn't the only thing hidden beneath your palace, Lisara," the Walker said, using Lillith's ancient name again deliberately. "Ask your pet about the Void Lord. Ask what stirs behind the weakening seal."

  With those cryptic words, the remaining Walkers dissolved into mist, retreating into cracks in the cavern walls. The tremors intensified, larger chunks of stone now falling from above.

  "We need to go," Lillith grabbed Ethan's arm. "Now."

  "What about the Codex?" he asked, even as he let her pull him toward the exit.

  "No longer here, obviously." Her grip tightened as the ground lurched beneath them. "And if we don't move quickly, neither will we be."