White fire, the swirling burn of the portal, and then hand in hand, Sam and Harald left Flutic behind to delve deep into the Fallen Angel dungeon once more.

  One moment they’d been on the cobbled street outside Celestara Manor, the next they emerged into a spacious room filled with clear light that filtered down through branches of a great tree whose canopy capped by a peaked glass ceiling. It was a cavern of sorts, ivy growing down over cool gray marble walls that encircled a single elegant room, a grand staircase at the back curving up and out of sight to a second floor open beneath the canopy, a low slung couch setee and table placed square over a white rug. Plants grew luxuriously in gold vases, and the air was sweet with the green scent of growth and fresh air.

  “Damn, Sam,” said Vic, turning in a slow circle and taking in the huge chamber. “Maybe I should have angled for an Angel Seed. Eclavistra only offered me the closet where she kept her whips and chains.”

  Sam’s hand was still in Harald’s own, and she squeezed before letting go, her smile self-conscious. “I—I know it feels grand, but I wanted a place with light, and—”

  “Darling,” drawled Nessa, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “You’ve absolutely nothing to explain.”

  Sam flushed. “It does feel exorbitant, and I don’t even know if I could relax in here, but it’s mine in name only, I haven’t even spent half a Bell here. But the light—”

  Harald raised his face to the gentle, benevolent radiance that filtered down from the slanted glass panes. It wasn’t sunlight, but felt instead like a blessing made manifest. Not warm, but still, it felt good to stand in its glow, as if it was his spirit that was being illuminated as well as his body. “I like it.”

  “Well, I love it.” Vic strode over to the couch, dumped his pack, and sprawled onto it, kicking one boot onto the elegantly carved table. “But does it come with drinks? I’m already guessing that’s the drawback to going the angel route. No booze.”

  “I don’t know,” said Sam, and began to cast around. “Perhaps somewhere here there’s—”

  “Sam.” Nessa stepped over, linked arms, and pulled her away from Vic. “Ignore him. You’re under no obligation to host. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Oh, right.” Sam smiled self-consciously. “Right. Of course. Old reflexes.”

  “Oh, you’re no fun,” grinned Vic.

  Harald took a deep breath. The stillness, after the frenetic activity and violence of the past few hours, felt surreal. “I can’t believe we got away with it.”

  “We almost didn’t,” said Nessa, pulling Sam over to the setee and pushing her down to sit. “That last moment with Thornar felt like it would be our last.”

  Kársek had set his pack down and was inspecting the stonework, hands linked behind his back. “Why, may I ask, did Lady Hammerfell intervene?” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I am not complaining. I just hadn’t expected aid from that quarter.”

  Harald considered. “She’s good people. I think that might be the best answer, actually. She and I, we had some conversations before, I felt like, maybe we made a connection, or…” He trailed off, picturing the eight foot tall warrior, her elegance, her power, her striking features. “Yeah. I think she simply couldn’t stand by any longer and watch Thornar and Doran and the rest of them indulge in their corruption.”

  “That’s going to be inconvenient for her, moving forward,” said Vic, who’d leaned forward abruptly to rummage through his pack. “Seeing as the whole mess of them up there are nothing but corruption and toxic ambition.” He drew forth a small bottle triumphantly and admired it. “Anybody want to toast the possibility of their all killing themselves over the Twilight Crown?”

  “Sam.” Nessa had sat lightly on the setee’s arm. “Our arrival here will be noticed, won’t it?”

  Sam frowned. “Yes, I’m sure it will. Has been, I mean. Especially with Vic and Harald being Demon Seeds. We’ll probably have company any second now.”

  “How tiresome.” Vic took a swig from his little bottle. “Ah, that’s nice. Can we put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ notice on the door? I really don’t feel like being bothered about being an agent of pure evil at the moment.”

  “Where is Lady Anna?” Kársek turned away at last from the wondrously shaped gray marble walls.

  “She chose not to come,” said Harald, heart growing heavy. He saw her again, her resolve, her reluctance, her pain. “At the last moment. She handed over her Artifacts, and… well. She said she couldn’t continue pretending to be a raider. She released me from my oath, and wished us all the best of luck.”

  “She what?” Nessa leaned forward. “She stayed behind by herself? She’ll be slaughtered.”

  “We didn’t have time to react,” said Sam. “She was decided. Said she’d spend the Infinitum to hire new guards, would distance herself from us. I’m not happy about it, either—” And here she glanced at Harald. “But she was only Level 3. Bringing her this deep into the Dungeon felt unfair to her, too.”

  “She’s a big girl,” said Vic, waving his hand. “And wickedly smart and resourceful to boot. Also, not having her around will make it easier for me to not feel guilty about stabbing her. So it’s all worked out for the best.”

  Harald leveled a hard stare at Vic, who met it with his usual insouciant grin. “I mean to go back soon to check in on her. But you’re right. She is wise and resourceful. Her chances of surviving the streets and politics of Flutic are far higher than surviving the 33rd Level of the Dungeon.”

  “In fact,” said Vic, “I think we should be worried about ol’ Alabenthos’ attitude to our being here. If I wasn’t so tired I’d be urging us to get down to the 34th.”

  Sam rose to her feet, strode toward a pair of golden doors inset in the far wall, then stopped and turned back to them. “Perhaps I should head out and find Seraphina, or someone to whom I can explain what happened. If we just wait here—”

  As if activated by her words, the massive gold doors swung open to reveal a towering juggernaut of an angel on the threshold. For a moment Harald thought it Alabenthos himself, but no—as impressive as this huge angel was, it wasn’t the master of this domain himself.

  But he was cast in the master angel’s mold.

  The figure stood seven feet tall and was encased from toe to head in bulky slate blue war-plate, the armor weathered and edged in baroque pale bronze. He was as broad as two men, and his huge white-feathered wings tripled his breadth, feathers as massive as two-handed swords, great big powerful wings that looked as if he could sweep away his foes with huge gusts merely by beating them.

  A partial halo hovered his head, a crescent whose tips nearly touched, and his helm was blank and featureless, a curved plate without indentation in the abstract shape of a skull. But there was no doubting the angel-kin’s ability to perceive them—Harald felt the weight of his regard fall upon him like a heavy pressure.

  Their company froze, the solemn, almost mythic-feeling presence of the new arrival arresting them where they sat and stood.

  “Ho there, Samantha Tuppins!” The angel-kin’s voice was deep and sonorous. “You have returned, and with guests. Your continued existence is cause for celebration, but your choice in company leaves much to be desired.”

  “I—hello.” Sam straightened. “These are my companions. Alabenthos has met them before, and found them worthy.”

  “Alabenthos is currently absent from his domain, leaving me, Exalted Brauxis as his steward. The sanctity of this Level is my concern, and I sense within these two men the presence of Demon Seeds most foul.”

  “That’s true,” said Sam, “but Alabenthos knew of that, too. Is Seraphine present? She can vouch for all this.”

  “Alas, Seraphina is absent as well.” The giant angel-kin reached up to rub at his chin with his armored fingers, causing a metallic scratching sound to be heard. “The war continues apace. There is much gladsome fighting to be done. Unless you are a Steward. A position of honor, and I am honored, but it leaves one… house bound.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Harald exchanged a glance with Vic. “You don’t get out much?”

  “Not recently! But the honor is great. Were this Level to be attacked by demons, I would be at the forefront, organizing the defense. Alas, we have not been attacked in far too long. Still.” Brauxis dropped his hand. “Perchance one of you has taken a kitten or a hound as a Servitor? While I must request that you remain bound to this chamber until Alabenthos returns, I would be most grateful for the company of either of those noble animals.”

  Harald couldn’t help but stare. “You’re asking if we brought pets?”

  “The noblest of animals! While I find humans to be endlessly complicated, prone to fits and sulks, hounds especially are the best of company, and cats are a mysterious delight unto themselves. By chance…?”

  “I, ah.” Harald hesitated. “I have a Shadow Mastiff as a Servitor? From the 27th Level?”

  “A Shadow Mastiff!” Brauxis voice rung with delight. “A wondrous companion. Stout hearted, loyal, fierce, cuddly. If it is not too presumptuous, would you deign to summon this Servitor of yours, and ask that it accompany me on my rounds? It is entirely possible that I may have a hydra steak set aside as judicious bribery for just such a moment as this.”

  “Shadowpaw isn’t… cuddly?” Harald felt out of his depth and looked to his friends again for help.

  “Aw, listen to the guy,” said Vic. “Who can blame him for wanting to play with a doggie? Go ahead, Harald. Summon Shadowpaw. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Sam shrugged, while Nessa and Kársek both appeared bemused, so Harald did as he was bid.

  A moment later darkness swirled by his side, and the massive hound appeared, steam rising from his thick black pelt, his huge head rising as he took in the chamber’s scent, his bright eyes alive with curiosity.

  “Ho, a worthy companion! Shadowpaw, you named him? Verily, he is a beautiful hound.” Brauxis reached behind his back, and drew forth an improbably huge cut of gleaming black and crimson flesh, one side still scaled in hydra hide. “Ho there, hound! What is this I brandish in your direction? Could it be a treat? A treat for thee?”

  Shadowpaw growled deep in his chest, his attention riveted on the huge steak.

  “Go for it,” said Harald, unable to resist a smile.

  Shadowpaw crouched for but a moment, then leaped across the large chamber to fall upon Brauxis, huge claws gauging at the weathered plate armor, his jaws latching mightily onto the steak.

  Brauxis didn’t even stagger. His laughter boomed out as he held the huge steak easily in one hand, able to resist Shadowpaw’s violent tugs effortlessly. “What fine mettle, what noble spirit! Come, the steak is yours, but you must earn it.” The angel-kin half turned back to the door, then looked over his monstrously huge pauldron at Sam. “I bid thee remain here with your companions until Alabenthos returns to render judgment. I shall resume my rounds, ennobled now by this heartsome companion. My thanks, Harald Darrowdelve, for this mighty boon.”

  The steak was inordinately tough; for all that Shadowpaw wrested and tore at it, the meat stretched and only tore a little. Brauxis strode forth, pulling the steak behind him, Shadowpaw digging in and fighting the pull, but sliding easily across the marble as the angel passed through the doors which closed soundlessly behind him, and then both were gone.

  “Did you see that?” Nessa’s tone was hushed. “Shadowpaw didn’t even scratch his armor.”

  “Seraphina told me a little about those who live on this floor,” said Sam. “She and I are the only humans. The rest are… to be honest, I didn’t quite understand the nuances. She called them emanations of Alabenthos? He generates them from the depths of his spirit.”

  “Like Servitors?” asked Harald.

  “More permanent, and free-willed. But totally loyal, completely bound to him. Exalted Brauxis is one such. A high level servant.” Sam moved to a cabinet and opened the doors to reveal shelf after shelf of neatly folded towels and blankets. Bemused, she closed it, began moving to another. “There are five levels. Exalted is the fourth highest. Brauxis must be really, really tough.”

  “No kidding,” said Vic, then shrugged. “But it is a truth universally accepted that anyone with a fondness for doggies can’t be all bad. And honestly, being commanded to rest is exactly what I was hoping he’d say.”

  “Agreed,” sighed Nessa. “It’s been a long, long night. Sam? Is there somewhere to sleep?”

  “Or shower?” asked Vic. “I’m all icky with dried sweat and other people’s blood.”

  “There should be.” Sam opened another narrow door to reveal a hallway beyond. “Huh. This wasn’t here last time I… but there are more doors? Maybe…?”

  The main central chamber revealed itself to be a hub to other rooms, with enough guest chambers that everyone could be accommodated. They also discovered a room with a waterfall crashing down into a natural pool, with crystal decanters filled with salves and herbal pastes with which to wash.

  The encounter with Brauxis had taken the edge off the crew; nobody suggested setting a watch or sleeping together for safety’s sake, and to Harald’s surprise he realized he wasn’t nervous or on guard at all. After what felt like days of paranoia, violence, backstabbing, and attempts on his life, he felt finally at peace.

  He took his time bathing when his turn came, and of course the waterfall drenched him in heated water. He felt the tension and knots in his shoulders ease, and for what felt like a short eternity he simply stood under the deluge, water crashing around him, and allowed his thoughts to drift.

  To Anna. Would she be safe? Was anywhere safe, for any of them, outside this moment of reprieve? To Sam, kissing him just before they were both attacked behind the House Celestara guest house. Lady Hammerfell. Lord Doran. The Twilight Crown. Vic’s worrisome slide into bloody-minded anarchy. Nessa’s Ego-driven crisis, and how she’d handle her pain now that the Crown was one.

  He reached out for Shadowpaw, and sensed the great hound out there in the middle distance, complete with a sense of savage happiness. Good. The dog was having fun.

  If anything instilled him with a sense of safety, it was that.

  Harald toweled off, dressed in clean outfit that Sam had found in one of the many cabinets, and returned to the main chamber. Exhaustion bid him sleep, but he was driven by restlessness, and when he saw Sam standing by herself he knew what had driven her forth.

  For a moment he remained still in the archway, watching her. She was… beautiful. Slender but athletic, her golden hair freshly washed and hanging down her back, yet betraying the passage of her comb in its clean furrows. She was examining a beautiful white blossom in one of the potted plants, her brow slightly furrowed, her hand cupping the flower.

  Sam.

  A wave of tenderness and desire washed over Harald, a desire to protect her, to nurture their relationship, to make her smile, to help her achieve whatever goal she desired. It felt at once complex and simple, powerful and confusing. For so long she’d simply been his majordomo, an invisible and constant presence, but over the past months, she’d grown, surprised him, impressed him, saved his life—and forgiven him for his previous sins.

  Said that she loved him.

  Kissed him.

  And now? He couldn’t help but smile. Angel-kin, with an Angel Seed, a Divinely Ranked soul, awesome powers, the patronage of an actual angel. And yet still Sam, his friend, his childhood companion.

  She must have sensed him, for she turned and met his gaze, her smile natural, her gaze warm. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

  He moved into the room, approached. “Guess I wanted to check in on you before closing my eyes.”

  “If anyone’s in danger here, it’s you.”

  “Every where’s dangerous these days. But still.” He stopped before her. She linked her hands behind her back and gazed up at him, her eyes glimmering with amusement and something deeper. Something more. “I… I never told you.”

  “Mmm?” She arched one brow.

  “The Mote of Humility. Remember Alabenthos’ gift, after I told him I wanted to serve the light?”

  Her gaze widened but she only nodded.

  “Back during all the madness in Flutic. I… I gifted it to you.” How had he not mentioned it before? “I don’t think Vic’s thought of his twice, but mine—I think I understand the significance of the gift. How Alabenthos meant to balance out my Demon Seed and its influence.” His chest felt tight, his throat constricted, and her subtle scent, warm and clean and close was intoxicating. “I…” It was getting harder to focus. “I wanted you to be the one who had… had that power over me. That I could never turn against, no matter what comes. I… I trust you more than anyone else in the world, Sam.” His stomach was churning, his thoughts spinning. “If I ever—if at some point in the future, if I become like father, if the Demon Seed warps me, I want you—I know that you will be able to—”

  She reached up with both hands, cupping his cheeks, and drew him down so that their lips met. She closed her eyes, and then he did the same, and even as his heart pounded and the blood rushed in his ears, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply.

  Finally she broke the kiss and embraced him, resting her cheek on his chest. He clasped her tight, and all felt still, all felt right in the world.

  “It’ll never come to that,” Sam whispered. “I know it. You’re a good person, Harald.” She drew back suddenly to meet his gaze again, her stare earnest, sincere, almost fierce. “You will fight off the Demon Seed. You’ll help me and the angels win this Celestial War. I’ll never have to use the Mote against you. The fact that you’ve given it to me is proof enough of that.”

  His throat was dry, cramped, and he couldn’t talk. Only stare down into her burning blue gaze, and take solace in her confidence.

  “Seraphina told me it was no coincidence that I gained my Soul Rank at the same time you did. That our Classes complement each other so well. We’re meant to be together. To keep each other strong. The Fallen Angel wants us to fight together, to win this war for her. And we will.”

  Her faith was so absolute, her tone so firm, that he could only nod once, somberly.

  “Whatever comes,” she whispered, “we’ll face it together. And I know, I know that you’ll resist the Seed. With my love, and your strength, we’ll turn it against Vorakhar, and win this war. Together.”

  They embraced once more, and he rested his head upon hers. Within his depths he could feel the Demon Seed stirring, could feel something akin to dark amusement, an emotion that translated best into a snigger. Could it understand her words? Did it have an awareness of its own?

  But Harald tamped down his awareness of its darkness, of all it had bid him do thus far, of all he might need to do to win this war moving forward, and took solace in this one precious moment of stillness.

  Right now, holding Sam, basking in her faith and confidence was enough. Perhaps it would be enough for the both of them.

  And that's when he realized that they weren't alone in the chamber. Turning rapidly, putting a surprised Sam behind him, he saw a massive figure had materializes in the center of the room:

  Alabenthos.