Azrath had been walking toward the Land of the Shadows for what felt like days. The further he traveled, the heavier the air grew. He conserved his energy, wary of whatever or whomever awaited him at his destination. According to the map, he was brushing the edge of an unmarked void. A blank space that made his chest tighten.

  That night, he fashioned a small shelter from dried foliage and sticks. A flat stone served as a pillow, but he'd slept on worse.

  “This isn’t as bad as living in Avernus,” he chuckled, settling in.

  Pulling his journal from his satchel, he began to write by the soft green glow of his amulet.

  It took me a while to shake the aura of the Abyss. Though its strength bleeds through the entire realm, Abyssalath was drenched in it. I had headaches just from the weight of its presence. I reached the border today, where the emptiness ends, and the Land of Shadows begins. I wonder why Selena left this place unmarked...

  “She didn’t mark it because she doesn’t want to come here,” a voice murmured.

  Azrath shut his journal with a snap, leaping to his feet. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

  A figure emerged. She was red-skinned, her mandibles twitching by her mouth, and her eight glinting eyes watched. She moved with the grace of a predator.

  “Are you inspecting me?” she asked.

  “No—uh, I just... I’ve never seen anyone like you.”

  “There’s more out here than you’d think.” She raised a hand.

  A wave of power hit him. Visions surged through his mind. Crowds of felines and spiders beneath a dark sky cheered as the woman stood tall with a crown upon her head.

  “You’re an illusionist,” he said, gasping.

  “You’re observant. That was just a taste of what’s coming.” She smiled, then vanished.

  Azrath didn’t sleep well after that, but exhaustion finally dragged him under.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  In the morning, he woke to a small parcel beside him, wrapped in a glistening spiderweb. Inside was food and water. He blinked in surprise.

  “At least she decided to pity me,” he muttered, tucking it away.

  The entrance to the Land of the Shadows was drenched in black fog, thick enough to obscure his boots. He clutched his amulet and stepped into the haze.

  Crumbled walls, covered in moss and rot, formed an unnatural atmosphere. Whispers echoed around him.

  “Who’s this? Come to see the King?” a voice whispered behind him.

  He spun around. Nothing.

  “He’s going to make it through the maze,” another voice chuckled nearby.

  Maze? Azrath realized he had taken more turns than he thought. Still, luck guided him. After several more minutes of careful walking, he emerged into a clearing.

  There was no castle, only open space, and shifting fog.

  “I guess it takes time to build a whole kingdom,” he joked to himself.

  “You’d think it’d be easier,” a voice replied.

  Azrath jumped, whirling around.

  A figure emerged from the ground like a shadow stretching into form. The man was lanky, with wisps of shadow-like hair floating above his head. His skin was black with shimmering violet markings, and his pupil-less orange eyes glowed.

  “I’m Draegon,” he said, extending a hand.

  Azrath hesitated.

  “Have you never seen a handshake before?” Draegon laughed. “Come on, I don’t bite.”

  Azrath shook his hand, and a surge of magic pulsed through his amulet. In an instant, the fog cleared from his vision. Dozens of glowing white eyes stared at him. Shadows took shape into people: humanoid silhouettes with faint mouths and unmoving expressions.

  “You can see them now?” Draegon beamed. “Oh, good! I wasn’t sure that would work. I’m still learning magic. These are my people, the Nightlings. And this... is Netherhollow.”

  Azrath gave a hesitant wave. The Nightlings didn’t react.

  “You’re their leader?” he asked.

  “Yep! And proud of it,” Draegon said with a wink.

  Azrath reached for his map. The Nightlings tensed, but Draegon held up a hand to calm them.

  “The Abyssal Queen sent me,” Azrath began, “to make an agreement.”

  “An agreement?”

  “I want you to align with me, future King of the Inferno.”

  Draegon raised an eyebrow.

  “I intend to unite all of Hell’s factions, demons, succubi, Nightlings, everyone. You’ll still rule your people. But you’ll report to me.”

  “All the factions?” Draegon asked.

  “There are rumors of more leaders rising. The Queen and I are trying to bring them together.”

  Draegon paused, then smiled. “I agree.”

  Azrath blinked. “Just like that?”

  “Sure! I like you. And besides, things are more fun with a little chaos mixed in. Do me a favor and kiss Selena on the cheek for me, will you?”

  Azrath froze. He never said her name.

  He decided not to ask, choosing instead to wave and turn away. Another ruler allied, just like that. Could the others be this easy?

  He pulled out the map again.

  “If I head west, I’ll reach the site of my future kingdom. I might as well check it out... Then south, to ‘strong demons.’ Real descriptive, Selena,” he laughed.

  With Netherhollow fading behind him, Azrath stepped into the unknown again, his journey through Hell far from over.