“No, Myla is already gone.” I call more igni to me. They arc and dive about my arm, loosening my bindings. “I’m the Great Scala.”

Whatever I feel, whatever powers are within me, I throw it all at Armageddon. I save no corner of my soul for trips to magic users who may strip my igni powers, for becoming the old Arena fighter again, or for a future where I’m anything but the Great Scala. I am this fight.

I call to the igni, and they careen down from the clouds in a great flood, wiping away Armageddon’s column of hellfire. My bindings disappear. The ghostly woman falls free to the ground. White lightning bolts envelop the King of Hell, pulling him down the very pit he created by my feet. Armageddon claws at the sand as his body is yanked away. His eyes glow bright red as he disappears into the darkness.

He’s gone. I sent Armageddon to Hell. My body hums with excitement. I turn to the miserable spirit, ordering the igni to guide her soul. They swirl and dive in a great mass as they wrap about her, carrying her into the clouds and Heaven. Their child-like laughter rings in my ears. After that, everything turns silent.

I find myself back at the Gray Sea, standing on the top ridge above the bunker entrance. One thought ricochets through mind: Armageddon is gone.

I let out a long breath. My arms drop to my sides. The desert wind whips through my hair. Above me, harmless gray smog replaces the angry storm clouds. My legs turn boneless beneath me. I’m dimly aware that Cissy, Zeke, Mom, and Xavier stand nearby. I wobble in place. It’s over. Lincoln’s arms wrap about me as I collapse. All becomes darkness.

28

For what feels like an eternity, my dreams are empty and cold. Occasional sights and odd voices break through the void: Mom sponging sweat from my forehead … Cissy holding my hand … Lincoln gently kissing my closed eyes. Someone says “She’s past the worst of it.”

I wake up in my own bed. My brain is hazy. I stagger to my feet and peer out the window. Half the houses on our street are burned-out husks. The demons were here too.

The world whitens around the edges of my vision; I grip the windowsill.

“What are you doing?” The voice is familiar.

I squint but can’t focus. “Mom?”

“Yes, it’s me.” She races to my side. Her arms grip my shoulders, guiding me back into bed. “What are you doing up?”

My head touches the pillow. I curl into a fetal position. “I didn’t know where I was.” I feel so cold, my teeth chatter. I try to open my eyes but can’t.

Mom pulls the blanket up to my shoulders. “You’re home, Myla.”