Chapter 51

~~David~~

David pulled his shaggy hair aside, exposing his forehead. “I’m unmarked. I don’t know about any war, but—”

The three humans gasped and looked between each other.

“How?” Naoko asked. “How are you unmarked?”

“Dunno how. We’re kinda on a journey to figure that out.”

They looked between each other again, while the devorjin remained a few meters off, growling, arms across his chest.

“Journey?” The succubus asked.

“Long story,” David said. “Can’t really share the details.”

She frowned, looked the group over, and got her eyes stuck on Moriah. “You have an angel with you? A wounded angel? And ... Timaeus, the bailiff?”

The gorujin snorted. If he knew her, he didn’t say anything, but it made sense for people to recognize a bailiff.

“If you’re moving through the Scar,” the incubus said, “maybe we can help?”

Jes snorted and flared her wings. “I still haven’t heard a good reason we shouldn’t just eat you.”

Again, the brute snorted, but he didn’t move, either, eyes flicking between David and the two tetrads.

The incubus raised his tail and adopted a sneaky grin. “You’re passing through the Scar, right? I just assumed, with the other unmarked and the war between the Red Pits and the Navameere Fields.”

Well, fuck.

“We’re just passing through,” David said. “I have no plans to be involved in a war.”

The incubus nodded. “Just as well. If you’re trying to get through the Scar, you’ll need help. Angels are patrolling the border. First time I’ve ever seen that. That because of you?”

He winced. “It’s complicated.”

“I can navigate the Scar fine,” Laoko said. “We do not need your aid.”

But Tacharius shook his head. Pretty insistent and confident, for what was basically a prisoner and potential meal from the way Jes was looking at him.

“The Scar is in a weird ... state,” the incubus said. “Tarkissa wants to join the war and help the Red Pits. No one knows why. Some volas resist, but—”

“But,” Laoko said, growling, “the Scar refuses to do anything directly. So you all play your games and look for ways to usurp the spire ruler.”

Tacharius put up his hands. “I didn’t say I was against Tarkissa.”

Without skipping a beat, the incubus immediately went lawyer mode. David couldn’t help but laugh.

Laoko came closer, and the three humans and two volas froze, the brute in the back clenching his fists but smart enough to stay where he was.

“We are not allies with Azailia or the Grave Valley.”

Tacharius raised a brow. “You’re not?” He peeked past her and looked at the rest of the group. “Timaeus is a bailiff, and—”

“It is a long story, and you do not need the details. Just tell us what routes through province are the least problematic, and we will go without you.”

Predictably, the incubus just grinned some more. “No. You have to take us to the Scar if you want our knowledge.”

Jes came closer, growling louder, but everyone blinked when Caera stood up. Eight feet tall. The tiger reached out, grabbed the man by the throat, and lifted him in the air.

“We don’t know you,” she said. “We—”

“Don’t!” Natalie said, and she stepped up and got between Caera and the dangling incubus. “Leave him alone!” Everyone froze, again, and stared at the girl. “Tacharius is trying to keep us alive, that’s all. We know we’ll get picked off if we try and get back. Telmer will get us, or maybe Zavara. Something’s made them bold, and maybe we shouldn’t have come here to get silk, but it’s not always easy to get silk in the Scar because the different groups fight over the farms, and—”

Naoko joined her and glared up at Caera. “Put him down.”

David raised a brow and looked at the succubus Zazee, but she just shrugged, her eyes locked on the two human girls, too.

Caera let him go, stayed standing upright, and leaned down over David. “They seem sincere.”

Oh, that was a test. He frowned up at her. She grinned down at him. They needed some sort of sign language to tell each other about plans they made up on the spot.

Moriah joined them, and while the two demons took a step back from her, the three humans stared in obvious awe. Even missing a wing, Moriah was a few inches shy of seven feet tall, and ridiculously beautiful. The damned had probably never seen an angel up close, or as anything other than a white dot in the burning sky.

“You,” she said, and she pointed at Natalie. “Your number before you drank demon blood?”

“Me? I ... I uh—”

“She could lie,” Jes said. “Who turned her?”

The incubus held up a hand.

And thus began a weird game of good cop, bad cop, detective, separate interrogation rooms, and double confirming information.

Natalie had been 34. Naoko had been 9. Fuad had been 27.

“Low numbers,” David said. “Why’d you all agree to turn? 666 is a lot of deaths.”

Fuad gestured at a nearby remnant fighting its way from the roots of a tree. It might as well have been a zombie in a TV show with the way it bled, flesh sunken, eyes desperate. Lasca killed it.

“When facing that,” he said, “ten deaths or ten hundred deaths sound the same. And we are stronger like this. We can survive.”

Not logical at all, but who the fuck could be logical in this sort of situation?

“Low numbers doesn’t mean much,” Jes said. “So they’re only colossal shits instead of murderers. Does that mean we can trust them?”

“More than before,” Moriah said. “What do you think, unmarked?”

David took a breath, aimed a palm toward the brute, and played another tune. A quiet, simple little thing, and it pushed the sharp branches out of his path.

“Koralex, right?”

The brute got within punching distance and snorted. With all the demons David found himself around, the only ones stronger than brutes were tetrads, and maybe that shark dinosaur guy he met in the spire with Diogo. And with the way Caera was glaring at the brute, she didn’t like the fact he could probably take her in a fight. He was bigger, thicker, all muscle, and skin so dark it’d probably take hellfire or an angel blade to pierce him.

“Yes,” he said, voice deeper than Timaeus’s.

“You go ahead with Laoko. I got my eye on you.” David looked up, met the demon in his skull-fish face and tiny eyes, and held his gaze. No weakness.

The brute snorted, took lead, and marched with Laoko. A little ahead of Laoko, actually, and the thorns and branches snapped harmlessly off his skin. No wonder each province supposedly had plenty of devorjins. Spire mothers probably selectively bred them because of how good they were as foot soldiers.

“Where’s Telmer now?” Laoko asked the devorjin.

He gestured to the right, but said nothing. The one brute David met, Diogo, hadn’t seemed very talkative, either. Maybe it was just a devorjin thing.

David gently bent the branches on a path toward the left, and everyone followed it.

Running into demons in the Amisius Forest on the way to the Scar, demons who knew the best ways to get to the Scar, demons who knew information about some war? A little too convenient, maybe, or was there something happening, and they were just stumbling into it?

~~Day 75~~

~~Mia~~

The group trudged along in the black swamp, somehow having avoided anymore contact for quite a while. They’d reach the Maze, soon, and the chances they’d have to fight would go from likely to guaranteed.

“So what’s James like?” Mia asked.

Azreal glanced back, angry squinting. Well, lucky for him, she wasn’t asking him.

Julisa shrugged. “He was a virgin and had wholly no idea what he was doing. I had to explain everything to him. But thankfully, his unusual body and aura kept everyone well aroused for hours.”

Why was Mia not surprised? Not about his body or aura, but Julisa.

“Not what’s he like in bed! I meant what kinda guy is he? Is he quiet? Is he nice? Is he grumpy and mean?”

“A stumbling fool with no drive. But yes, he was kind.”

Kind was good, but it didn’t sound like he had anything else in common with Mia or David. They’d both familiarized themselves with the ins and outs of sex the moment they’d hit puberty; that’d been an awkward conversation. Sex-obsessed, this James person was not, but he still had the aura and the changing body.

“Anything else?” Mia asked.

“Such as?”

Don’t facepalm. It’s too gross in this place.

“Where’s he from?”

“I do not know.”

“Was he in school when he died, too?”

“I do not know.”

“Did he have a job?”

“I do not know.”

“Did he have a girlfriend, or boyfriend?”

“I do not know. Unlikely, with how easy it was to seduce him. I showed him my breasts, and he melted.” She sighed happily and stretched all four arms up, back arched. “Imagine my surprise, and his, when he filled me up to the brim with a growing cock.” She sighed happily and ran her hands down her breastplate. “I admit, seeing the boy, clearly unused to such pleasures, cum his brains out, was delightful.”

Yosepha half coughed. “You, enjoying gentle sex?”

“Who said it was gentle? Just because he was gentle does not mean I was.”

Apparently, the big bitch was a switch. Props to someone for enjoying both styles.

“Okay, not sex! Anything but sex.” Mia threw up her hands. “How about, his attitude? Like, more than just whether he’s kind. Does he make jokes? Is he calm under pressure? Is he grumpy? Is he—”

“The boy,” Azreal said, “is kind, but quiet. There is a reserve of strength to him, but he does not know how to let it out, not with everything he’s suffered. I suspect he’s faced a difficult life while alive as an orphan, as well.”

“Oh. Oh! He was an orphan, too?”

“Yes.”

Thank god at least the angels paid attention. It made sense, with how they worked and all. Demons wanted to possess humans, eat them and stuff, and angels wanted to protect them. Thank god, again, Noah was still with James.

“There’s gotta be a connection,” she said. “Noah said an angel name Ramiel came to the surface a hundred years ago. Maybe there?”

Azreal winced at the name. “Perhaps.”

“His past does not matter,” Julisa said.

Mia scrunched up her nose. “I beg to differ! It may not matter to demons or angels — though I doubt that’s true, either — but it definitely matters to humans. It shapes everything about how we think, how we react, how we feel. And if we can’t be sure what kind of person he was because unmarked are all unmarked, then we better figure it out.”

“Agreed,” Yosepha said. She looked back at her wings, flexed them, winced, flared them, winced more, and sighed. “I wish to speak to him more, but I would rather fly there myself than be carried.”

Yosepha wasn’t the only one growing. It hadn’t changed weight, but the egg in Mia’s sling was a bit bigger, and the creature inside pressed up against the leathery edges. How long ago did she get the egg? A month. How long did cannam eggs take to hatch? Over a month. But this egg was bigger than the others, and Hell had birthed it in response to her presence. Probably. Maybe it’d hatch sooner? Or later.

“Be carried,” Kas said. “If it’s worth it.”

Mia nodded and patted Kas’s back. “He’s right. You should visit the other group, too, make sure we’re all on the same wavelength.”

Yosepha frowned down at the muck, scooped up some of the black guts, and rubbed them on her budding wings. More muck, and more, but she stopped and looked back and up at the giant tetrad with wings behind her.

“I would rather stay here,” she said.

Mia forced down her smile. She didn’t want to leave Romakus. It was so cute!

“Romakus,” Julisa said, glaring, “is ... a large target. I would say bring him with you, but he is likely to be spotted.”

Romakus shrugged and swung his tail around. “I’m too handsome to hide.”

Kas grunted and shook his head. “We need to speak with the other group more. Change members. I’ll go.”

Mia whined and thumped his shoulder. “I trusted you!”

He grunted. “Ride Vinicius,” he said in a tone so flat, it was unusual, even for Kas.

She tilted her head. Ride Vinicius? Was he trying to get rid of her? No. Kas liked her, right?

“Each time we trade members,” Julisa said, “we risk battles.”

Kas sighed, but grunted and nodded. “Agreed. I would prefer to battle with Adron, but agreed.”

“Agreed,” Azreal said. “But we will avoid battle as much as possible, sarkarin.”

Kas aimed his eyeless shark gaze at the angel and shook his head. “There will be a battle. You know there will be.”

Wings drooping, the angel looked back at Mia. “Have you thought of a way to get us through the Maze without being caught?”

“No. I can’t burrow us through Hell. If there was a tunnel beneath us already, then maybe, but I haven’t felt anything like that. Lots of small pockets, little caves, but nothing like where we ran into Asmodeus.” She shivered. The name tasted like tar. There was no way a creature like that wouldn’t be a problem in the future, but the fuck could they do about it now?

“We have one option,” Yosepha said. “We sneak through the shadows, kill whoever we find, and hide underground when we must use Mia’s abilities. If we run into Vicente, Xela, or perhaps even Alessio, we will have no choice but to battle.”

“Battle an army?” Mia clutched her head and stared down at her friend’s back spikes. “I ... don’t want to do that again.”

“We will have little choice,” Azreal said. “Angel’s Spine has tunnels hidden beneath its skin, and we will find them and use them until we reach False Gate. Once there, my kind will struggle to find us. But until then, we have no choice but to defend ourselves.”

“Yes, defend!” Mia threw up her hands. “I will defend us, but we don’t have to default to violence! If angels come at us, they have to be willing to talk, right? Yosepha, Galon, Noah, and you Azreal, you can’t be the only angels willing to listen.”

The group went silent waiting for the angels to say something, but they didn’t. They stared at the muck, grimacing, and walked on.

“What,” Mia said, pointing out at the smog, “is that?”

The group got down and stared, but whatever it was, it scurried off, and the group got up like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Mud crawler,” Romakus said. “Don’t scare us like that, Mia.”

Props to her for spotting it first, but no one else cared. She frowned at him and pointed harder.

“A mud crawler!? The fuck is that?”

He shrugged. “Like stone crawlers.”

“Which are?”

Yosepha flapped a wing. “Humans call them centipedes.”

Mia hugged herself and quivered, head to toe.

“Once,” she said, “when I was a little girl, I feel asleep in my guardian’s basement, watching a movie. Sometimes centipedes crawled along the carpet. One got up my leg, and I screamed and screamed.”

Julisa snorted, complete with a grin. “How cute.”

It hadn’t been cute. Mia had been six, and that’d been a formative memory; according to her textbooks, anyway. A shitty, formative memory, that’d borderline given her a phobia of bugs. Thankfully, she didn’t have any true, debilitating phobias, but that didn’t mean a bug with a lot of legs didn’t make her wriggle like a worm on a hook.

“How big do they get?”

“Mud crawlers get up to twenty feet,” Romakus said. “Stone crawlers only half that.”

Oh god. She squeezed Kas’s spikes until the wriggling sensation in her limbs went away. Better to squeeze him than squeeze and break her egg.

Her egg moved.

She froze, stared down at the egg, and set a hand on it. It didn’t move at first, and what little it did was from Kas’s walking, but after a few more seconds, it shifted again.

“Um ... do hellbeast eggs—” It stirred more, and through the semi-opaque leathery shell, the creature inside pressed against its cage. “I think the puppers is hatching!”

“Puppers?” Azreal asked. “Oh, the cannam. Are you killing—”

“We’re not killing it! He’s my pet!”

“It,” the angel said, squinting his eyes.

“He,” she said, glaring, “is my hellhound. Hell birthed the egg for me. Maybe. But, shit, this is awful timing.” They were gonna reach the Maze in a day or two. A puppy was not a good thing to have when trying to be stealthy. “I thought we’d have a couple more weeks.”

The egg shifted around some more, and Mia climbed off Kas. Splat, sandals in the muck, she set the egg down and looked around at the smog. More things stirred in the black, all low to the ground, little shadows that slithered and twisted. More centipedes. Romakus said twenty feet, so six or seven meters, which was just stupid huge, but they didn’t look that big from a distance. Then again, he’d called the mud crawlers. Their bodies probably blended into the muck.

And she didn’t want to deal with those while her puppy hatched.

“Let’s stop,” she said.

Julisa snorted. “We have at least two more hours of traveling before evening twilight.”

“Yeah, but when twilight hits, we’ll probably have to fight off a bunch of bugs, right?”

“Yes,” Kas said, head raised and aimed at the smog. More bugs.

Julisa wasn’t having it. “I told you the hellhound will be a problem. It is not a puppy, Mia. It will hatch as simply a small, young adult, same as demons. It will grow quickly. It will hunger for resonance, be it yours or ours. It will—”

“Hell birthed this for me. You saw it. It was weird, and I felt it, and it ... it’s special. The egg is special. I’m not going to abandon him.” She stomped her foot. Mistake. Black guts splattered over her shins, and she sighed. “How long does an egg take to hatch?”

Kas came up beside her and gently set a colossal hand on the wriggling oval.

“Adron would know.”

“Fuck.”

Julisa sighed and rolled her eyes. “A few hours. A hellbeast that cannot start hunting within days is dead. They hatch quickly and hunt quickly.”

Mia nodded, aimed her hands at the ground, and didn’t wait for permission. The egg was important, and god fucking damn it, after killing and killing and killing so many things, she wanted to save something.

And she wanted a pet dog. Always did.

She sculpted the ground up first, a little tower up through the muck. The center and starting point of the sphere. It grew wide, pushed the muck away, and she pulsed it outward like a wave, all so she could push the muck away before starting the cave. As the slow pulse of rock moved outward, and once the demons and angels had stepped over it, the walls grew higher, while the ground now cleared of muck grew lower. Lower and lower, sinking deep into the ground, while the outer wall pushed up. It was the only way to stop the swamp from getting into her caves, and it’d taken some experimenting to get it right.

Everyone huddled in, Azreal with Yosepha and Romakus, Julisa with Vin, and Kas beside Mia. He kept his head pointed at the egg and claws at the ready. Yeah, she didn’t blame him. She was terrified her hellhound might bite her hand off. But she couldn’t stop smiling.

She was going to meet her puppy, and that was such a stronger feeling than her fear.

The ground sank, the walls grew, and slowly the walls curved up overhead, creating the ceiling. The song told the ground, the blackstone and brown dirt, to be malleable and flow, to remain a part of Hell’s body, to shift and move without shattering. Clay. She molded it, sculpted it, and shifted it around them so they sank deeper.

Cave sculpted, she sat down and breathed deep.

“Still difficult?” Kas asked.

She smiled up at him and patted his giant arm. “Yeah. It’s getting easier, but I don’t think it’ll ever get easy. Making a cave underground like this takes so many steps. It’s just one of those things that seems simple but isn’t.” Music had a lot of that, simple songs that were hard to play or vice versa. Using the music to dig a tunnel under the Maze was not an option.

Everyone sat down, Julisa grumbling, Romakus rolling his eyes, Yosepha watching the egg, and Azreal glaring at the egg. Vin didn’t watch the egg at all. Maybe he didn’t care? Whatever was bothering him — her — he kept his eyes aimed up at the ceiling, body limp. He was barely paying attention.

But Kas stayed very close, so close he leaned directly over her and rested his weight on his fingers in his gorilla stance.

She patted his hand, too. “I know it’ll be dangerous. But, um, don’t squish him too quickly, alright? I want a chance to tame him.”

Her first bodyguard snorted but nodded, and curled his crocodile tail behind her.

Mia peeked up at the others again. They didn’t look happy. Even Yosepha didn’t seem happy to be doing this. Mia could apologize later.

Everyone grew quiet and watched the miracle of life unfold. Mia had to bite down the laugh. Life, in the afterlife. It was such a fucked up ecosystem. Humans came to the afterlife with their resonance, and some leftover essence from the surface. Demons and hellbeasts wanted the resonance, though for some reason, hellbeasts didn’t store it like demons did. So demons had no reason to eat them.

Lucifer created demons, not hellbeasts. Hellbeasts were always here, supposedly. A part of Hell. Demons were the odd one out. David was probably loving trying to solve that puzzle.

The egg moved, and went still.

“We sure it’s hatching?” she asked.

Julisa shrugged. “No.”

Mia facepalmed and looked at Kas and Vin, but they had nothing to say. The angels didn’t know, either. Did she end the journey early for nothing? The other group was probably pushing further ahead, and tomorrow Mia’s group would have to catch up, and Azreal would have to fly and look for them, and—

A piece of the leathery shell tore.

“Ooh! Ooh!”

“Mia,” Yosepha calm. “Be calm.”

“I’m calm I’m calm!”

Yosepha smiled, shook her head, and sat closer.

The one thing they don’t show on nature documentaries is how long it takes for baby animals to push out of their eggs. Hours. Many hours. If they got twenty-four hours into this and the baby still wasn’t through the shell, it’d be a major problem.

She didn’t have to wait that long. The creature inside pushed through the leather barrier in two hours, and each moment, Mia teetered back and forth. Her limbs tingled with energy, and her ass grew sore from the constant rocking.

A set of claws pushed through the dark egg shell, wet, and slimy. It made sense, being an egg and all, and Mia pushed down her juvenile urge to get grossed out by bodily fluids. If her baby puppy was gonna hatch right in front of her, she had to have the stomach to deal with a little slime.

An arm pushed through, and Mia sucked in a breath. It looked like a hellhound’s arm, but redder, the skin not hard yet. Black claws, with black spikes coming off the elbows and shoulders. Ooh, muscular, like the cannam she’d seen. Maybe even more muscular? Thicker?

Hellhound was a weird name for them. Cannam looked like some kind of cross between dog and cat, with the lithe bodies of cats, the muscularity and face of a dog, and the mane of a lion, a mane of dozens of black spikes.

More of the hellhound pushed through, slowly tearing through layers of the leather. Mia couldn’t help herself, took a piece of leather shell already half torn off, pulled it aside, and tore off the rest. Or, well, she tried to tear off the rest. One hand on the egg, the other pulled at the leather strip, but it didn’t come off.

“That’s ... a tough egg,” she said. “Maybe I didn’t need to be so gentle with it.”

Kas snorted and leaned over the egg. “We would not know. Few demons rear hellbeast eggs.”

“I suppose—oh! A face!” A snout pushed through a crack between two leather chunks. Strong puppy to get through that shell. “Hello! Hello little one, I...” She tilted her head. “What the...”

A dog’s face pressed up and out of the egg, eyes closed, body covered in mostly clear slime. Half dog, half lion, kinda, a tough and thick dog snout but the skull shape of a cat, with some black spikes on the top of his head.

And another head.

And another head.

A third hour crawled by like an eternity. Everyone drew closer, staring, even Vin, and a few had their jaws dropped as finally, the hellhound lay on its side, and breathed. Free of its shell, it was the size of a golden retriever; apparently, it’d been rolled up head to ass inside the egg, super tightly. Its spine had spikes running from mane to the tip of its tail like any cannam. The multiple heads, on the other hand...

“Um...” She watched the little creature pant with exhaustion. “It ... he ... has three heads?”

“Evidently,” Azreal said.

“Is that normal?”

Romakus shook his head. “I’ve never seen a three-headed hellhound. Kas?”

Kas snorted and shook his head, too.

Mia gulped. “I mean, on the surface, everyone knows about Cerberus, three-headed dog, guards the gates of Hell in Greek mythology. Maybe Roman, too.”

“Yes,” Yosepha said, “but there are many ideas from the surface that are not in Hell or Heaven. No one has ever seen a three-headed cannam before.”

“We sure he’s a hellhound?”

“Larger,” Romakus said. “This one has been born a little larger. But otherwise it looks exactly like a cannam. Thicker, though.”

Mia nodded, gulped down some weird mix of excitement and fear bubbling in her, and reached out for the exhausted dog.

“Hello,” she whispered. Much as every bit of her was bubbling with the urge to hug the hellhound, squeeze him, pet him, and love him, she wasn’t that stupid. Almost that stupid, but not quite. She touched the middle head and rubbed back along his forehead. Slimy. “I think he’s sleeping.”

“It,” Azreal said.

“All dogs are boys, and cats are girls,” she said. “So I’ll be referring to him as he.”

Yosepha laughed. “And for a name?”

She stared down at her new pet doggy. Her puppy. Her hellhound. He’d guard her, defend her, take care of her, and make sure no nasty demons got her. He needed a strong name. A fitting name.

“I ... I mean ... he has three heads, right? I don’t really have a choice.” She giggled and gently touched Cerberus’s three noses. His heads had a black snoot, just like any dog, but it was tough, like demon black skin always was. He probably wouldn’t be licking it. “Cerberus.”

Cerberus opened his eyes, all six of them.

“Hi,” she said, and slowly pulled her hand back. No sudden movements. “Hi there. Hi. I’m Mia.”

On shaky legs, the three-headed hellhound got to his feet, lasted four seconds, and fell to his side. Mia squeaked, reached out, and pet his heads again. The hellhound was obviously confused, and she had no idea if that was something all new hellbeasts went through, or was he confused because he wasn’t where he should have been, a fleshy pit surrounded by porous walls and other eggs?

The heads looked at her, blinked at her, closed their eyes, and the dog panted some more. Still exhausted.

She reached inside herself, found the strings, and played a gentle melody. The unheard sound guided—

Cerberus opened his six eyes again and stared up at her. The look shocked her still, and her inner fingers went still with her. The music stopped, and Cerberus closed his eyes.

“Did you guys notice that?” she asked.

“It looked at you,” Kas said. “Was there something else?”

The others couldn’t hear the music. To them, Cerberus randomly looking at her was exactly that, random. So Mia tried again, and played a gentle little tune to guide nearby rivers of essence and resonance toward her cave. The moment she played a note, Cerberus opened his six eyes again.

With a quiet, whining sound of a puppy, albeit a bit deeper, the cannam crawled closer to her, and sat. He failed to keep the position, and all three heads fell forward. Mia squeaked again and caught his heads on her legs, and stroked the two outer heads’s foreheads and spikes. They were soft enough to bend gently, like iguana spines, and she combed them back.

Cerberus made more whining sounds, first the left head, then the right, then the middle. Half on his side, half on his stomach, he closed his eyes again and rubbed his cheeks into her knees.

She played the song again, and the hellhound’s whining settled. She played gently, took her time, and slowly grew a forbidden tree beside Cerberus, a small one; it’d take too long to grow a big one with such quiet music. But it was enough, and over ten minutes, the tree grew fruit, and the golden retriever-sized three-headed hellhound resting its heads on her lap didn’t move an inch.

“Hey, Cerberus,” she said, plucking a fruit. “Hey. Hi. Are you hungry?”

He opened four eyes, looked up at her, closed them, and relaxed again. As expected, he didn’t have a clue how to speak Estian.

“Kas, can you tell him I have food? I mean, uh, assuming newborn hellbeasts speak Hellian.”

“They do, barely,” Kas said, but he grunted, nodded, and clicked once in his throat.

Cerberus lifted his three heads, opened his mouth, and drooled. But he didn’t look at Kas. He looked at Mia, and his spiked tail gently wagged side to side.