I pump more igni into the giant soul-column, then step inside myself. It’s oddly peaceful within: no wind, no sounds, only a hallow column of bright white light. Visions flash through my brain. I picture every demon across Purgatory. Crini, Manus, Papilio…more than five thousand evil faces flicker through my mind’s eye.

Turning my gaze upwards, I propel the soul-column higher until, like a geyser, the igni blast through the top of the clouds and rain down across Purgatory.

My mouth curls into a grin. It’s working.

In my mind’s eye, I see tiny lightning bolts descend around thousands of demons. The igni spin about the monster’s bodies, holding them in place. For a moment, all my captives’ misery, hatred, and cruelty crash through me, an avalanche of evil. I sense where each one stands, what each one is, and where each one belongs.

So I send them there.

The igni whirl and multiply around every demon. Thousands of soul-columns appear across Purgatory, a demon inside each one. Their lights flare brighter, then they all disappear, taking the monsters inside on a journey to Hell.

All of them, that is, except one. Armageddon.

My brain anxiously whirls through options and scenarios. How do I get this guy out of here? Somehow he blocked my last wave of soul-columns. I can’t let that happen again.

Armageddon takes another swipe at Lincoln; the Prince blocks the onslaught. Turning toward the demon, I raise my arms to shoulder height, my palms up and flat. I call the igni to me, asking them to change their path so they no longer reach for the clouds. They obey, and the full force of the soul column careens up my body, across my arms and straight into Armageddon’s side.

Take that.

Part of me knows this is an insanely risky move. I have no idea what it will do to create this kind of connection between me and the King of Hell. I lock those thoughts away and refocus on my task: getting Armageddon out of here.

As the igni smash into him, the King of Hell lets out a spine-crushing howl. He throws his arms wide, creating a column of red flame about his body. Lincoln is blasted out of the way, the force of the red fire as strong as a grenade explosion. Leaping back to his feet, the Prince races toward me, baculum blade in hand.

My igni column merges with Armageddon’s hellfire, creating one great pillar that encases us both. I vaguely hear Lincoln scream for me outside the column of hellfire and angelic igni. He strikes at it with his baculum, but he can’t break in.