Yet she heard the doubt in her voice. If Taal was truly the Father of All Gods, a great deity who loved Eteer, how had he let this evil befall them? Was Taal himself aligned with these demons? After all, some old books of lore claimed that Angel was Taal's daughter. Raem too worshiped the silver god, and he commanded an unholy host. How could Issari stake the future of her kingdom on a god whose love she doubted?

She took a deep breath. Perhaps you are testing me, Taal. Your light has helped me before, and your power has joined with my very body. I am your priestess, your warrior, your servant. Be with me today. She raised her eyes. The sky was blue and bright, the sun beating down, but Issari prayed to other gods too. If you look down upon me, stars of Requiem, and if you see me as your daughter, help me too. Help me defeat the demon host that would kill your children.

They kept walking, heading closer to the palace. It rose ahead upon a hill—her old home. Blue bricks formed its base, inlaid with golden reliefs of winged bulls, roaring lions, and chariots full of soldiers. Indigo columns lined the palace's higher floors, capped with gold. Balconies thrust out like mushrooms upon a tree. Once lush gardens had draped off these balconies and the palace roof; they had burned in the war. Once a waterfall had cascaded down the palace wall into a pool in the gardens; it had run dry. Once this had been a home to Issari; today a creature of flame and stone lurked within.

She turned to look at the soldiers who followed her. Each man wore a bronze breastplate and helmet, and they held round shields and khopeshes. Spears hung across their backs. She had a thousand men; she had to fight only one demon. Issari suspected this might be like a thousand butterflies attacking a bear. She caressed her amulet. Just so long as there's one bee in the bunch.

She raised her head, squared her shoulders, and marched on, climbing the hill toward the palace gates.

No guards stood here; none were necessary, for nobody sane would enter this place with the creature that lurked within. The bronze doors seemed to glower at her, their knobs shaped as great phalli, symbols of fertility. She grabbed the handles, took a deep breath, and shoved the doors open.

A dark hall awaited her, lined with columns. Once a mosaic had covered the floor; it lay smashed and stained with demon drool, blood, and seed. Once statues of erstwhile kings had stood between the pillars; their heads had been removed, replaced with demon sculptures of stinking flesh stitched together into mocking faces. Once the throne had risen here in a beam of light, and great kings had sat upon it. Now, coiling around this chair, slumbered the Queen of the Abyss.