The streets of Ardorkeep became increasingly chaotic as we approached the administrative district. Demons of all varieties pushed past us, some fleeing the scene, others rushing toward it with the morbid curiosity that seemed universal across realms. The air grew thick with acrid smoke that carried the unmistakable tang of magical discharge—not the clean ozone scent of standard spellwork, but something corrupted and volatile.

  When we finally reached the epicentre, I stopped short, momentarily stunned by the devastation. What had once been an imposing obsidian structure now resembled a broken ribcage, with jagged spires of black stone jutting upward from a crater of smouldering debris. Smaller fires burned throughout the wreckage, some in unnatural colours that suggested alchemical reactions still in progress.

  Demons lay scattered across the plaza—some moaning in pain, others completely still. As I watched, one particularly mangled imp began to dissolve, its physical form breaking down into wisps of dark smoke that dissipated into the air. The sight was unsettling, even after months in Hell. I knew intellectually that the imp wasn't truly dying—its essence would eventually reform elsewhere—but the visual remained disturbing.

  "Mother!" Isabella's voice cut through my thoughts. She'd spotted Pyrrha Lilitu standing near what remained of the building's entrance, her silver hair unmistakable even through the haze.

  Isabella broke into a run, her elegant gown somehow remaining pristine despite the ash and debris. Aria and I followed close behind, picking our way through the wreckage.

  Pyrrha Lilitu stood tall amidst the chaos, her emerald eyes surveying the destruction with cold calculation. Her dress—a flowing creation of metallic silver fabric that seemed to move like liquid mercury—was torn at the hem and stained with something dark that I suspected wasn't her blood. Beside her lay the remains of what must have been a massive demon, easily eight feet tall even in its current state. Half of its body was simply... gone, as though cleanly sliced away. The remaining portion was already beginning to dissipate, dark smoke rising from the edges of the wound.

  "Mother, what happened?" Isabella demanded, her usual composure cracking slightly as she reached Pyrrha's side.

  Pyrrha's gaze shifted to her daughter, then briefly to Aria and me before returning to the dissolving demon beside her. "The meeting didn't exactly go as planned," she said, her voice carrying the same aristocratic coolness I'd heard from Isabella countless times.

  "I can see that," Isabella replied, gesturing to the devastation around them. "Was this an attack?"

  Pyrrha's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Someone set a trap for us. This is merely the opening move in something much larger."

  I stepped closer, careful to maintain a respectful distance. The power emanating from Pyrrha was palpable, like standing too close to a bonfire. "What do you mean by 'something larger'?"

  Isabella shot me a look that suggested I might be overstepping, but Pyrrha seemed unbothered by my question.

  "This," she gestured to the dissolving demon, "was Glakius Chenoo, representative of House Chenoo from the Second Circle. His death here, in my presence, during negotiations I arranged..." She let the implications hang in the air.

  "This could lead to war," Isabella finished, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not only did you fail to prevent it, but they'll likely blame you directly."

  Pyrrha inclined her head slightly. "Precisely."

  Aria, never one for political subtlety, frowned. "Can't he just explain it wasn't your fault when he reforms? I mean, he saw who actually did this, right?"

  Pyrrha's cold emerald eyes settled on Aria, who to her credit didn't flinch under the scrutiny. After a moment, Pyrrha's expression softened marginally.

  "It's not that simple, child. And it might already be too late."

  "Too late?" I echoed, confused. "What do you mean?"

  "It could take months before Glakius reforms," Pyrrha explained, "and by that time, we could already be at war. House Chenoo won't wait for explanations when they can use this as justification for the conflict they've been itching to start."

  I blinked, genuinely surprised. "Months? Don't demons reform instantly?"

  Aria nudged me with her elbow. "No, silly. When killed in Hell, it can take months for our essence to come back together after it dissipates. The more powerful the demon, the longer it usually takes."

  "That's when most rivals strike," Isabella added, her eyes never leaving her mother's face. "Many demons never recover from what they lose during that period—territory, influence, possessions."

  I absorbed this new information, realising how much I still had to learn about demonic existence. It made sense, in a way—Hell's power structures would be even more chaotic if death carried no lasting consequences.

  Pyrrha watched our exchange with faint amusement. "Your friend seems to have gaps in common knowledge," she observed to Isabella.

  "Lily is... unique," Isabella replied carefully. "But she's makes up for it in other aspects."

  "Indeed." Pyrrha's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than was comfortable, as though she were trying to solve a puzzle. I wondered briefly if she could somehow sense my unusual origins.

  "Is there something I can do to help?" Isabella asked, drawing her mother's attention back to the matter at hand.

  Pyrrha considered this for a moment before shaking her head. "The three of you should focus on your studies. Even if war comes, it's unlikely to reach the Academy. Madana values the institution too much to allow it to become a battlefield."

  "But House Lilitu—" Isabella began.

  "Will handle this as we have handled all challenges for millennia," Pyrrha cut her off firmly. "Your education remains your priority."

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Isabella straightened her spine, clearly wanting to argue but knowing better than to challenge her mother publicly. "At least tell me who you suspect was behind this."

  Pyrrha's eyes narrowed slightly. "There are several possibilities. The explosion carried traces of glacial magic, suggesting Second Circle involvement, but that could easily be misdirection."

  "A false flag operation?" I suggested, drawing on terminology from my former life.

  Pyrrha's eyebrow arched slightly. "An apt description, Lily. Yes, it's possible someone wants to provoke conflict between the First and Second Circles."

  "But who would benefit from that?" Aria asked, surprising me with her political insight.

  "That," Pyrrha said, "is the question we must answer quickly." She turned back to Isabella. "I need to meet with the other House leaders. Return to the Academy and keep your ears open. If you hear anything unusual—particularly regarding Second Circle activities—contact me immediately."

  Isabella nodded, though I could tell she was frustrated at being sidelined. "Yes, Mother."

  Pyrrha's expression softened slightly as she reached out to touch Isabella's cheek—the most maternal gesture I'd seen from her. "Be vigilant, daughter. War benefits opportunists most of all, and three young succubi with connections to powerful houses would make tempting targets."

  "We can take care of ourselves," Isabella assured her.

  "I'm aware," Pyrrha replied with the ghost of a smile. "I've heard reports of your recent... adventures." Her gaze flicked briefly to me again. "Interesting company you keep these days."

  Before Isabella could respond, another demon approached—a stern-looking female with obsidian skin and four arms, each holding a different communication device. "Lady Lilitu, the emergency council is assembling."

  Pyrrha nodded. "I'll be there momentarily." She turned back to us. "Go. Be safe. And Isabella—" She paused, seeming to choose her words carefully. "Remember that information is the most valuable currency in Hell."

  With that cryptic advice, she swept away, her silver dress flowing behind her like mercury despite the tears and stains. The four-armed demon followed, already briefing her on something in hushed tones.

  Isabella watched her mother leave, her face unreadable. After a moment, she turned to us. "We should go."

  "Back to the Academy?" Aria asked, sounding disappointed that our night out had been cut short.

  "Yes," Isabella replied, already moving. "We need to prepare."

  "Prepare for what?" I asked, hurrying to keep pace with her.

  Isabella's ice-blue eyes met mine, and I saw in them a calculation that reminded me strongly of her mother. "War is coming, Lily. And despite what my mother says, I don't intend to sit safely at the Academy while it happens."

  * * *

  I stretched my legs out, enjoying the pleasant buzz of energy flowing through my body. The familiar comfort of our dorm room was a welcome contrast to the chaos we'd witnessed earlier. "I still can't believe what happened tonight," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the waves of pleasure coursing through me.

  "I know," Aria pouted, her black hair falling gently as she leaned backward. "Our night out completely ruined. We barely got to finish our drinks before everything went to hell—well, you know what I mean."

  I laughed, the sound catching in my throat as a particularly intense sensation washed over me. "Careful with the metaphors."

  "But seriously," Aria continued, her purple eyes fixed on mine as she maintained a steady rhythm, "if there's really going to be a war, we won't have any fun for ages. They'll probably restrict Academy students to campus, cancel all the good parties..."

  I braced my hands behind me, arching my back slightly. "That's what you're worried about? Parties?"

  "Among other things," she replied with a mischievous grin, adjusting her position slightly. "I mean, we only just got back from saving London, and now this? A girl needs her downtime."

  I closed my eyes briefly, focusing on maintaining my composure. "I think Isabella has bigger concerns than missing parties."

  "That's exactly my point," Aria said, her voice growing more serious despite our current activity. "Have you seen how tense she is? She's taking this whole thing way too seriously."

  "Well," I reasoned, my breath hitching slightly, "it's her family that's involved. House Lilitu is right in the middle of this mess. She probably feels responsible somehow."

  Aria nodded, her movements becoming more deliberate. "I guess you're right. I just hate seeing her like this. All cold and distant, like she's already planning battle strategies."

  "She probably is," I said, shifting my weight forward slightly. "Remember how she was during the Cain situation? Strategic thinking is kind of her thing."

  "True," Aria conceded. "But that doesn't mean she should carry all this weight alone. We should do something to help her get this out of her head, even if just for a little while."

  I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite the distraction of our current situation. "What did you have in mind?"

  Aria's eyes lit up with that dangerous spark I'd come to recognise as trouble. "Well, you know how Isabella loves those hot springs close to the Northern Caves? The ones with the mineral waters that supposedly enhance magical recovery?"

  "Mmhmm," I managed, finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation.

  "What if we took her there tomorrow? Just the three of us—well, four including Bellas if you want to bring him. A little relaxation before everything gets crazy."

  "That... actually sounds perfect," I admitted, feeling my control slipping. "But we'd need to go soon. If what Pyrrha said is true, the Academy will start restricting where students can go any day now."

  "Exactly," Aria said triumphantly. "We should go tomorrow. Skip Professor Scarlet's history class—it's not like we need to know about the Third Demonic War right now when we might be living through another one soon."

  I laughed at the irony, the sound transforming into something more primal as pleasure built within me. "When you put it that way..."

  "So we're agreed?" Aria pressed, her movements becoming more erratic as she approached her own climax. "Tomorrow, we kidnap Isabella and force her to relax?"

  "Agreed," I gasped, no longer able to maintain the pretence of casual conversation. "But maybe don't phrase it as a kidnapping when you tell her."

  Aria laughed, the sound dissolving into a moan as she reached her peak. I followed moments later, waves of pleasure washing over me as energy flowed between us. For a few blissful moments, thoughts of war and politics disappeared entirely.

  As we recovered, Aria climbed off Bellas with a satisfied sigh. I lifted myself from his face, noting with satisfaction the dazed look of pleasure in his eyes. Our slave had performed admirably as always, his stamina impressive even by demonic standards.

  "Good boy," I murmured, running my fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. Despite my initial moral qualms about owning a human being, I'd grown fond of Bellas. He seemed genuinely happy serving us, and the arrangement benefited everyone involved.

  Aria flopped onto her bed, stretching like a contented cat. "So, hot springs tomorrow? I'll message Isabella first thing in the morning."

  "Sounds perfect," I agreed, reaching for a cloth to clean myself. "Bellas, go wash up and then bring us some water."

  "Yes, Mistress," he replied, his voice hoarse but eager as he rose from the bed.

  As he disappeared into our bathroom, I considered how much my perspective had changed in the months since arriving in Hell. Activities that would have horrified Liam now felt natural, even pleasurable. The moral boundaries I'd once held sacred had shifted dramatically, replaced by a new understanding of how things worked in this realm.

  And yet, some things remained constant—like my desire to help those I cared about. Isabella needed us now, even if she might not admit it. War was coming to Hell, and we would face it together, just as we'd faced every other challenge.

  But first, we'd make sure she had at least one day to relax and remember what she was fighting for.

  "Do you think Isabella will agree to come?" I asked Aria, who was already unfolding a piece of magical parchment that she grabbed from her nightstand, likely to write a message to Isabella.

  "Are you kidding? Once I tell her it was your idea, she'll be all over it," Aria replied with a knowing smirk. "Our princess has quite the influence over our noble friend."

  I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't deny the truth in her words. "Just make it clear this is about relaxation, not plotting war strategies," I insisted.

  "The whole point is to get her mind off the conflict, not give her a new venue to obsess over it."

  "Don't worry," Aria assured me. "I know exactly how to handle our Isabella."

  Meanwhile at hell: