Professor Morrigan dismissed us with her usual abruptness, leaving a cloud of shimmering particles in her wake as she vanished from the classroom. I gathered my notes and slipped them into my spatial ring—still one of the most convenient gifts my mother had given me.

  "That was actually fascinating," I said as we filed out into the hallway. "I never realised sympathetic magic could work across dimensions."

  "Thinking of visiting Earth again?" Isabella asked, her ice-blue eyes studying me carefully.

  I shrugged. "Not specifically. But it's good to know my options."

  The Academy's corridors bustled with activity as students moved between classes. Incubi carrying stacks of scrolls, imps scurrying with messages, and succubi of all ages chatting animatedly about their latest conquests or fashion finds. Five months ago, this scene would have horrified me. Now, it felt... normal.

  "It's nice to be back to our routine," I admitted, surprising myself with how much I meant it.

  "Even with Valentina's drama?" Aria asked, nudging me playfully.

  "Even with that," I laughed. "At least school drama is predictable. No ancient vampires trying to sacrifice entire cities."

  Isabella nodded. "There's something to be said for the structure of academia."

  As we walked toward our next class, Aria bounced on her heels, her eyes gleaming with that particular look that always meant trouble.

  "So," she began, looping her arms through mine and Isabella's, "I was thinking we should go out tonight."

  "We have three more classes today," Isabella pointed out.

  Aria waved dismissively. "I meant after classes, obviously. It's been forever since we had a proper girls' night."

  "Define 'proper,'" I said cautiously, knowing full well what Aria's idea of fun often entailed.

  "Nothing too wild," she insisted, though her mischievous grin suggested otherwise. "Just drinks at the Crimson Chalice, maybe dancing at the Infernal Beat afterwards."

  "The last time we went dancing at your suggestion, we ended up in that orgy pit," I reminded her, feeling a flush creep up my neck at the memory. I might have accepted my succubus nature, but some things still pushed my comfort boundaries.

  "That was one time!" Aria protested. "And you enjoyed yourself eventually."

  "That's not the point," I muttered, though I couldn't entirely deny it. My body had certainly enjoyed the experience, even if my mind had been conflicted.

  "I could perhaps be persuaded," Isabella said thoughtfully. "Mother has been encouraging me to maintain a visible social presence."

  I shot her a betrayed look. "Et tu, Isabella?"

  She shrugged elegantly. "Political considerations aside, it would be... pleasant to unwind after recent events."

  "See?" Aria beamed triumphantly. "Isabella gets it! Come on, Lily. We deserve some fun after saving the world."

  "We saved one city," I corrected her.

  "Details," Aria dismissed with a wave. "Please? I promise no orgies this time. Just drinks, dancing, and maybe some light flirting. Nothing you can't handle."

  I sighed, knowing resistance was futile. "Fine, but I'm holding you to that promise. No surprise sex dungeons, no feeding contests, and absolutely no trying to set me up with random demons again."

  "In my defence he was really handsome!" Aria protested.

  "He had three heads!"

  "And they were all handsome!"

  Isabella's lips twitched in a rare display of amusement. "I'll ensure Aria behaves within reasonable parameters."

  "Thank you," I said, genuinely relieved. "Alright then. Girls' night it is."

  Aria squealed with delight, drawing curious glances from passing students. "This is going to be so much fun! I need to plan my outfit. Oh, and we should coordinate! Maybe something in crimson for Lily to match her eyes?"

  As Aria launched into a detailed fashion analysis, I exchanged a look with Isabella. Her subtle eye-roll matched my sentiments exactly, but there was fondness in it too.

  "We should probably head to Alchemy," Isabella noted, glancing at a crystalline timepiece that materialised from her spatial ring. "Professor Auriel doesn't appreciate tardiness."

  "Oh right!" Aria's fashion planning came to an abrupt halt. "I heard we're working with volatile substances today."

  We made our way through the Academy's winding corridors toward the alchemy labs. The air grew increasingly thick with the scent of herbs and mineral compounds as we descended the obsidian stairs to the lower level.

  "Speaking of tonight," I said, "should we bring Bellas along? He's been cooped up in the dorm lately."

  "Aww, look at you being a considerate owner," Aria teased. "But maybe not. The Crimson Chalice has that 'no slaves' policy since that incident with the Duchess's thrall last month."

  We reached Professor Auriel's classroom, the fallen angel's golden hair visible through the crystalline door as she prepared today's materials. The scent of crushed herbs and bubbling potions wafted into the hallway. We pushed open the door and entered Auriel's domain of bubbling cauldrons and precise measurements, leaving thoughts of tonight's adventures temporarily behind.

  I stood in front of the mirror in our dorm room, barely recognising myself in the outfit Aria had insisted I wear. The deep crimson fabric clung to my curves like a second skin, with strategic cutouts exposing glimpses of pale flesh across my midriff and upper thighs. Intricate silver embroidery traced patterns reminiscent of thorny vines along the edges, catching the light with every movement. The high collar framed my face while leaving my shoulders bare, connected to the rest of the ensemble by delicate silver chains that draped across my collarbone.

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  "I look like I'm about to assassinate someone at a high-end brothel," I muttered, adjusting the thigh-high boots with their wickedly pointed heels.

  "You look stunning," Aria insisted, applying the finishing touches to her makeup. "Trust me, this is practically conservative by Crimson Chalice standards."

  I sighed but couldn't argue with my reflection. The outfit complemented my white hair and crimson eyes perfectly, making me look every inch the dangerous predator I supposedly was. And despite my protests, a part of me—a growing part—appreciated how the fabric accentuated every curve and swell of my body.

  Aria had chosen something that matched her personality perfectly—a playful purple ensemble with cutouts that shifted and changed with her movements, revealing tantalising glimpses of skin before concealing them again. The fabric seemed almost alive, responding to her boundless energy with shimmering patterns that danced across the surface.

  A knock at our door announced Isabella's arrival. She entered with her usual grace, dressed in a gown that somehow managed to be both elegant and provocative. The midnight blue fabric flowed like liquid shadow around her form, with precise architectural elements that framed her figure without being overtly revealing. Yet somehow, the suggestion of what lay beneath was more enticing than any explicit display.

  "You both look lovely," Isabella said, her ice-blue eyes appraising us. "Shall we depart?"

  The streets of Ardorkeep pulsed with nocturnal energy as we made our way toward the Crimson Chalice. I'd walked these obsidian pathways countless times since arriving at the Academy, but tonight I saw them differently. The city breathed with carnal vitality—succubi leading willing partners into shadowy alcoves, incubi charming their way into the hearts (and beds) of passers-by, demons of all varieties engaging in the dance of seduction that powered this realm.

  Where once I'd flinched at the occasional wails echoing from distant corners—sounds I'd automatically attributed to torture and suffering—I now recognised the complex tapestry of pleasure and pain that was the city's soundtrack. The cries that had disturbed me months ago no longer fazed me; they were simply the background music to Ardorkeep's eternal revelry.

  The Crimson Chalice materialised before us, its entrance marked by a massive chalice-shaped sign glowing with actual crimson flames. Unlike the pulsing, frenetic energy of clubs like Infernal Beat, this establishment projected a more subdued atmosphere—though "subdued" in Hell still meant an intensity that would overwhelm most mortal establishments.

  As we crossed the threshold, the familiar sensory assault hit me like a tidal wave. My succubus senses flared to life, bombarding me with information my former human mind still struggled to process all at once. The air was thick with desire—not the raw, animalistic lust of the dance clubs, but something more refined yet equally potent. I could taste the arousal lingering in the air, differentiate between the distinct flavours of lust emanating from each patron.

  I paused, taking a moment to recalibrate as I always did. My companions continued a few steps before noticing I'd stopped.

  "You good?" Aria asked casually, barely registering my momentary disorientation.

  "Fine," I replied, forcing my senses to adjust. "Don't worry about it."

  Isabella gave me a knowing look but said nothing. They'd grown accustomed to these brief pauses whenever we entered places dense with potential feeding opportunities. What had once been overwhelming now only required a few seconds of adjustment—progress, I supposed.

  The interior of the Crimson Chalice was surprisingly elegant. Dark wood panelling lined the walls, interspersed with booths upholstered in deep red velvet. The bar itself was carved from obsidian, behind which bottles of every conceivable colour glowed with internal light. No dance floor here—just intimate seating arrangements and a low murmur of conversation punctuated by occasional laughter.

  As we made our way toward the bar, I found myself thinking about my first outing with Aria months ago. The Den of Debauchery had seemed so shocking then—demons openly engaging in acts I'd never witnessed in public as a human. Now I realised Aria had deliberately chosen one of the tamer establishments for my first exposure to Hell's nightlife. She'd been considerate even then, easing me into the reality of succubus existence rather than throwing me into the deep end.

  "What are you smiling about?" Aria nudged me as we reached the bar.

  "Just remembering our first trip to Den of Debauchery," I admitted. "You were looking out for me even then, weren't you? Taking me somewhere relatively tame."

  Aria's expression softened momentarily. "Well, yeah. You were a baby succubus who hadn't even fed yet. Couldn't exactly take you to the Flesh Pits your first night out."

  "The what?" I asked, then quickly shook my head. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

  Isabella slid onto a bar stool with perfect poise. "Three Heaven's Delights," she ordered from the bartender, a four-armed demon with skin like polished bronze.

  We'd barely received our drinks—glowing blue concoctions that smelled faintly of ozone—when the inevitable happened. Three male demons approached, each radiating confidence and desire so strongly I could practically see it rolling off them in waves.

  "Ladies," the apparent leader greeted, a tall incubus with obsidian horns that curved elegantly upward. "Allow us to buy your next round."

  His companions—a fire demon whose skin occasionally cracked to reveal molten interior and a being whose species I couldn't immediately identify—flanked him with predatory smiles.

  Isabella opened her mouth, likely to deliver one of her elegantly cutting rejections, when the world suddenly shook. The glasses behind the bar rattled violently, and several patrons lost their balance. A deafening boom echoed through the city, so powerful I felt it in my chest.

  The music cut off abruptly. Conversation died. For a moment, everyone stood frozen.

  Then, as if responding to some unspoken signal, demons began rushing toward the exit. We joined the flow, curiosity overriding caution.

  Outside, a massive cloud of smoke billowed upward from somewhere in the city. The plume rose so high it seemed to touch the obsidian ceiling of the First Circle itself, illuminated from within by occasional flashes of something that might have been lightning.

  "By the nine circles," Aria whispered beside me.

  All around us, demons were pointing and speculating.

  "—never seen anything like it—"

  "—had to be the northern district—"

  "—think it was the Academy?—"

  "—heard Madana's been having problems with—"

  Isabella's face had gone even paler than usual. "That's near the administrative district," she said quietly. "Where my mother was meeting with representatives from the Second Circle. They were finalising trade agreements."

  The concern in her voice was unmistakable. Despite Isabella's typically composed demeanour, I could see genuine worry flash across her features. Even with my enhanced senses, I'd rarely caught her displaying such raw emotion.

  "What do you want to do?" I asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  Aria moved closer, forming a protective triangle against the chaos of demons rushing past us toward the explosion site.

  Isabella's ice-blue eyes fixed on the rising smoke. "I need to check on my mother." She hesitated, then added, "But you two don't have to come. This could be dangerous, and it's not your family at risk."

  I couldn't help but laugh, though there was no humour in it. "Are you serious? You literally followed me to Earth to fight an ancient vampire. You died helping me save Faith." I shook my head. "And now you think I'm not going with you to check on your mother?"

  A ghost of a smile crossed Isabella's lips. "I suppose that would be rather hypocritical of me to expect."

  "Count me in too," Aria chimed in with a chuckle. "Besides, I bet your mom is fine. She's probably the one who caused the explosion dealing with some idiot who pissed her off."

  Isabella's posture straightened, her moment of vulnerability passing. "Mother is certainly capable of handling herself." She smoothed her midnight blue gown with practised precision. "But I would still feel better confirming her safety personally."

  "Then let's go," I said, already scanning for the quickest route through the increasingly chaotic streets.

  As we began moving toward the smoke plume, I couldn't help but wonder what we might be walking into. Isabella was right—her mother was far more powerful than the three of us combined. Unless I could somehow tap into whatever strange power I'd used to disintegrate Cain—something I'd failed to replicate despite numerous attempts—we wouldn't be much help in a real conflict.

  But that wasn't the point. Isabella needed us, just as I had needed them. In Hell, real friendship was rare enough to be worth any risk.