EPILOGUE THREE

The Fires of Hell

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Polkiss

Polkiss grinned, staring at the empty throne. He liked having no Greaters, and he certainly wouldn’t have one now.

Cimigda’s screams of despair still filled him with a sense of peace.

Still, the seal was truly broken. It was the only reason he hadn’t completely absorbed the little upstart. He'd done it. Where hundreds, thousands of demons far greater than him had failed, little Poison had succeeded.

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It boggled the mind.

Polkiss held the familiar crystals in his hand. He remembered seeing that mighty seal, so long ago. He remembered Umbris Valian. He remembered the moment that lofty Valam had given into Despair.

All did, eventually. Just like vain little Cimigda. The fool. So young. With all his accomplishments, he had not yet learned that whoever wanted the Throne of Dread had to take it.

Still, the weakling had done what Polkiss had been afraid to try, and now the ancient home was within his grasp. Perhaps the Valam really were all dead? He had said he’d never encountered more than humans there.

Humans.

Delicious.

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