PROLOGUE: THE KING IS DEAD
200 Years BeforeThe throne room of the Abyssal Citadel was not dark. That was the first lie history would tell—that demons loved shadow. Asmodeus had built his court from obsidian glass and witchlight, and it shone with the cold brilliance of a star.He was smiling when the dagger entered his back.Not at the Hero. Seraphina Valorian stood twenty paces away, her sword lowered, her golden armor cracked. She had fought honorably. She had fought well. The Demon King respected her enough to die facing her, to make her victory mean something.But Malphas had always been impatient."You were supposed to seal the gate," Asmodeus said. Not angry. Curious, even now. "Not kill me."Malphas twisted the blade. His general. His friend. The only demon who had wept when Asmodeus executed rebels instead of torturing them. "The gate is already sealed, my king. From inside. Your precious 'order'—your laws, your courts, your mercy—they were strangling us. The mortals need a monster. I will give them one."Seraphina screamed. Not a battle cry. A denial. She saw the seal closing around an empty throne, felt the Abyss being locked away, and understood too late that she had been used.Malphas stepped back, and the shadow took him. Not demon magic—something older, something that wore his skin like a cloak. "Sleep well, Asmodeus. When you wake, if you wake, you will find me worshipped as a saint. And you will be the villain who made me necessary."The Hero's blade fell. Not to strike—she was too honorable for that. It fell because she wept. Because she saw the king collapse not in conquest, but in betrayal.Asmodeus tried to speak. To warn her. To tell her check the grave, check the grave, he is not dead, he is never dead.But his throat was full of blood, and the world was ending, and the last thing he saw was Seraphina Valorian pressing her forehead to his and whispering: "I'm sorry. I thought I was saving them."Then: nothing.Then: everything.