Unholy Hell. That’s the woman I saw in the Arena, the one who sacrificed herself to the Limus demon because she didn’t think she deserved Heaven. Now Armageddon will force me to watch as he consumes her soul. My throat chokes with silent sobs.

Armageddon paces before me, his small black eyes narrowing into slits. “I’ve been following you for some time. You stopped two of my evil souls from entering Heaven. No one gets in my way without paying a price.” He glares at the miserable spirit. “I noticed you wanted to save her, so I did. For a special occasion.” A grim smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Schemes within schemes. That’s why I’m King.”

Armageddon pauses before me, his body looming above mine. “You’ve archangel blood and the old Scala’s power. You’ve moved every other demon to Hell. Yet you’re too weak to touch me.” He grins. “Want to know why?”

My voice comes out a low whisper. “No.”

“I saw your mind. You wait for someone else to shoulder your burden. Someone smarter, stronger, better.”

My eyes sting. “Yes.” Maybe if that person were here, things would be different.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, something only the King of Hell would know. Anyone seeking to become the Great Scala is evil. It’s more power than a good soul would want, or a bad soul should have. When the good take power, it’s always a service, a burden. And that makes them weak. Like you.”

Around me, the igni all but disappear. The fiery bindings on my body flare hotter. He’s right. I am weak. I can’t do this.

Armageddon snaps his fingers once more. The spirit crawls forward until she reaches the feet of the King of Hell. I see her face. Bloated. Red-eyed. Tear-streaked.

I choke back a wave of nausea. Armageddon set this soul aside so one day he could force me to watch her demise. With such evil in the realms, what can anyone really do?

Armageddon raises his pointer finger, smiles right at me, and then slowly lowers his hand toward the woman’s shoulder. Tears roll down her scarred cheeks as he touches her exposed skin. She screams as her spirit-body begins to fray and fade.

Watching her shriek, something inside me finally snaps. A realization knocks into me with a wallop. There’s no one smarter or better coming. It’s me and this poor woman and, so help me, we aren’t dying here. I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t mind the burden. I am fighting.

I raise my hand through a break in my bindings. Fresh igni swirl about my palm.

Armageddon arches his eyebrow. “You won’t win.”

“Then I’ll go down fighting.”

Armageddon’s eyes sparkle. “It’s your death, Myla.” Beside him, the woman’s body all but disappears.