Seraphiel Bloodthorn's fortress was not in Hell, but in the twisting, non-aligned space between realms—a citadel of black glass and captured starlight. Getting an audience required surrendering their weapons and walking through a gauntlet of sneering demons who recognized Lilithiel with a mix of scorn and morbid curiosity.
The throne room was vast and silent. Seraphiel sat upon a seat of fused bone and dark metal. He was strikingly beautiful, with an aura of controlled, volcanic power. His eyes, the color of aged blood, found Lilithiel immediately. A ghost of a smile touched his lips.
"Lilithiel. The Prodigal Star. And you've brought a mortal navigator. How quaint."
"We have information," Raguel stated, holding up the data-core. "And a proposal."
"Razamon is moving against you. Cleaning up the evidence of your partnership. This ledger details it all. He's also claiming assets that are not his to keep." Lilithiel's voice was steady, diplomatic, a echo of her celestial past.
Seraphiel listened, then gestured. A console rose from the floor. "Show me."
The data played. He watched, his expression unreadable. When it finished, he steepled his fingers.
"Razamon always was greedy. He thinks to use my own operations against me. And you three… he marked you as his property." He looked at them, his gaze calculating. "My proposal is this: You work for me. I break Razamon's claim on your souls. You become my hunters. A lateral move, perhaps, but I offer you something he does not: the eventual possibility of a true discharge. After a century or two of service, perhaps."
It was another contract. Another devil's promise. But it was a blade pointed at Razamon's throat.
Before they could answer, an alarm blared through the citadel. A viewscreen flickered to life, showing the exterior. A horde of Razamon's Hellknights, led by a smirking Sariodeus, were assaulting the outer defenses.
"It seems he'd rather destroy the evidence—and the assets—than let them change hands," Seraphiel said, rising. His form began to radiate dark heat. "Do we have an accord?"
Lilithiel and Raguel shared a look. There was no choice. They needed his power to survive the next hour.
"We do," they said in unison.
"Then fight," Seraphiel commanded, drawing a sword of solidified shadow. "Earn your new chains."