Ian had spent months preparing for this moment—truly preparing.
Not for the politics of Esgard or the venom of nobles in silk, but for what lay beyond the Blackfall.
For this—the First Reach, the opening scar of the Hellscape.
Before he even left Esgard, not even long after he had taken his oath before man and gods.
when blood still dried fresh on the trial hall grounds, he studied every tale the condemned screamed before execution.
Every scroll Elise could smuggle from forbidden libraries for him.
Every whisper from dying cultists, their tongues torn from speaking the truth too often. He hoarded knowledge like weapons, because here, in this ash-stained realm, knowledge was the only armor worth wearing.
And what he'd learned was simple.
Demons were not just monsters.
They were like a ladder of damnation, each rung darker than the last.
Some were low things, barely thinking—carrion-biters that screeched and bled easy.
