Set lay floating in midair with the back of her head resting in her hands, looking up at a glowing arrangement of glamours that conveyed information about the ongoing invasion.

  The vast chamber that she occupied was in complete darkness except for the light of the runes, figures and diagrams that floated and shifted above her, each of them the product of an enchanted crystal that was socketed into the ground dozens of feet below her, covered by an inch-deep layer of perfectly still water.

  She blew out her her cheeks as she read another short report about the ongoing troubles with North America’s eastern coast. The missing bastion was the most prominent of their problems, but it was just the tip of the iceberg, really.

  As she’d expected, the whole invasion had turned into a bit of a snafu almost as soon as it had begun. Her sisters had rushed ahead to farm humans, of course, and in their wake a whole host of ranked officers were giving orders over one another to try and secure some favor with the Pride Clan rather than be stuck with the ignoble massacre of some scattered cluster of villages that nobody was ever going to care about.

  And in her dark chamber at the heart of the nexus bastion, Set kept things organized, or tried to. She was the lubricant that kept the whole machine clunking along, albeit in a state of jury-rigged disrepair.

  Now she was frowning up at a particularly surprising bit of intel and debating whether to try and contact her sisters about it.

  She worked her mouth, drawing a claw through the air and banishing half of the light above her to better help her focus.

  Finally, she decided to go ahead and call them. Better to bother them with nothing than suffer the consequences if something was actually going wrong, after all.

  She reached out and tried to contact every one of them with telepathy.

  Yama answered first, but said nothing.

  Haddad answered next, joining the telepathic bond with Yama. Set’s upset, she said. Who’d have thunk it?

  One second, Set said, once again trying to establish contact with Ashtoreth, Apollo, and Freyr.

  Did the bean counter lose half a bean? Haddad asked mockingly. Do you expect us all to scramble around and find it? Come on—out with it.

  She asked you to wait, Yama said.

  For a third and fourth time, Set beseeched the others. At last, Apollo’s cool voice came through their telepathic bond.

  Unnecessary contact is a security risk, Apollo admonished. We don’t want the devils to be able to find us, after all—the chaos of the invasion is the perfect chance for them to stage assassinations.

  Set sighed as she continued to try and contact Ashtoreth and Freyr. No matter how many times it was explained to her, she’d never understand why the optimal organizational structure for Hell’s hierarchy was one where they were constantly looking over their shoulders at an entire species that had cause to despise them.

  Better, in her mind, to exterminate the devils wholesale and end their wretched rivalry once and for all.

  In fact, Set had a lot of ideas for how things in Hell could be done better. But these were thoughts for another time.

  I think Freyr is missing, Set said. Her commanders can’t find her and she hasn’t answered this call.

  Please, Haddad said. That’s it? She probably got distracted by how pretty bugs are when you squish them.

  I don’t think so, said Set. If that were the case, she’d tell us, wouldn’t she? Describe the whole bug while its guts oozed out?

  I find myself in agreement, said Apollo. She would usually answer your psychic overture immediately… if only to tell you, at length, what she was looking at.

  Exactly, said Set. I wonder why she’s ignoring us. Also….

  Something else? asked Apollo.

  Set turned midair, resting her head in one hand as she looked to one side at a cluster of red dots. She wove her fingers into a pattern, banishing all the lights but one.

  Garrakar’s bastion; it had been responsible for the attack on New York City.

  The last messages from Garrakar’s bastion made it clear that they were experiencing major interplanar drift and interference, and that they would likely be unable to communicate further for some time.

  The messages before that indicated an impending inspection of some kind from a visiting archfiend.

  Could it have been Ashtoreth? New York had been hers, after all… but she wouldn’t miss out on levels to return to the bastion so early in the invasion.

  Where’s Ashtoreth? Set asked.

  New York, said Haddad. Duh.

  She knows where Ashtoreth is supposed to be, Haddad, Apollo said disdainfully. She’s asking because something’s off. Right, Set?

  Yeah… maybe.

  Maybe? Apollo asked with a note of urgency. What’s wrong, Set?

  Set smiled to herself. She knew her sisters, and if there was one thing that could grab Apollo’s attention, it was Ashtoreth. Now that the day of the invasion had finally come, Apollo’s greatest concern would be outshining Ashtoreth. Anything to do with Ashtoreth would interest her, even if it was just because she was afraid that Ashtoreth was getting ahead.

  She had a habit of getting ahead, Ashtoreth. Even ahead of Apollo.

  It was why she’d gotten first choice of cities, after all.

  Maybe she finally got offed, said Haddad. Wouldn’t that be nice.

  Be realistic, Haddad, Apollo said.

  The bastion that manages the New York rifts is dark, said Set. Said they were experiencing drift and communications, then went dark. It actually almost sounds like she visited them right before it happened—but I can’t figure out why that would be. If she did, she has to still be there, because she’s not answering my telepathic overtures.

  Yama, who had been silent as usual, finally weighed in. Of course she isn’t, she said. She wants to impress father. This is a contest, after all. No matter how she acts, she knows that. She’s not going to let you distract her the way that all of us have. For all I know, you could be saying all this because you’re working with her—trying to lead Apollo and I astray.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  What about me? asked Haddad.

  You don’t need to be led astray, said Yama.

  Hey!

  Always a fountain of positivity, Yama, said Set.

  If we can skip the useless conflict, Apollo said as Haddad began to protest more. Yama raises a good point, said Apollo. It’s not unexpected that Set be unable to contact Ashtoreth.

  At first, sure, said Set.

  Meaning?

  Set rotated in midair, weaving a hand through the darkness to conjure an image directly above her. This image didn’t come from one of her control crystals, but a memory: it was an image of Ashtoreth layering raw slices of cinderwolf atop a pile of other meats she’d haphazardly bound together.

  She’d been trying to make a human birthday cake, but with ingredients sourced from hell. The result was a vaguely conical, bloody lump.

  Ashtoreth should be answering me the third or fourth time I try to get through, said Set. It’s how her mind works. She’ll worry that I’m calling her about something super great.

  …Super great? Apollo asked.

  That’s how she thinks, said Set. She’d answer because she’d be afraid of missing out. The more chances I give her to wonder why I was contacting her, the more chances she’d have to convince herself it was something she couldn’t miss.

  There was a pause as nobody responded to this. At last Apollo said, perhaps you overestimate your own understanding of her psyche, Set.

  Set sighed. She should have guessed that Apollo would shut her down. Next would be the lecture meant to show her superior knowledge.

  Though perhaps not, Apollo said, musing. I know Ashtoreth; I know her well. I am nearly certain that she’s adrift on that bastion, struggling to get back to New York.

  Wishful thinking, said Haddad. But whatever gets you through the next couple of hours, Sunshine.

  It’s not wishful, said Apollo. But I don’t need to convince you.

  Why are you so sure, then? asked Haddad. Why would she even go back to the bastion in the first place? She should be farming humans right now.

  Through their telepathic bond, Apollo let out a satisfied little laugh. I told you, she said. I know Ashtoreth. She’s a risk-taker. She’s crazy, and wild, and unpredictable—but she’s rarely stupid. Often, she’s even quite clever. But her eyes are ten times the size of her appetite and her dreams are ten times the size of her eyes. She’ll chase those dreams as far as they take her.

  There was a small silence as nobody answered this. Then Yama spoke.

  Did you have that whole speech ready, Apollo? Sort of pathetic, if you ask me.

  Some of us have something called ‘eloquence,’ Yama, Apollo snapped back. Some of us strive for more than merely being everyone else’s critic.

  Don’t speak of me as if I know nothing of striving, Apollo.

  Apollo conveyed a noise, and feeling, of dismissive disgust. Regardless, she said. It seems Ashtoreth’s penchant for chronic risk taking has, for once, failed to pay off. The inexhaustible luck that’s carried her thus far has been exhausted. She commanded the bastion to try something daring, clever, and risky in order to get herself ahead… and whatever it was, it failed.

  If you’re sure… Set said uncertainly.

  I’m sure. New York is a mess, but it’s her mess. Leave it, Set. She doesn’t deserve your help.

  And Freyr?

  Freyr is experiencing a whole new world, said Apollo. Her typical sociability can’t be relied upon, here. She may have just been distracted… but maybe not.

  Maybe not?

  Investigate if you like, said Apollo. Just be sure you continue keeping the devils off our backs.

  Set growled. You haven’t had any troubles yet, have you?

  I daresay this conference has come to its natural conclusion, said Apollo. She severed psychic contact a moment later.

  Set sucked in a breath as the others followed suit, then let out an exasperated sigh. Nobody appreciated her.

  One day, she’d show them.

  She growled to herself. She’d show them all.

  She rotated herself to sit cross-legged, then began to bring up every communication she could that might shed light on where Freyr had gone.

  Then she frowned. Instincts told her that something was wrong. She couldn’t just dismiss Ashtoreth.

  She brought up the bastions again—and watched, seconds after she did so, as another one of them went dark.

  She cocked her head, curious.

  Then she opened its communications. Much like the Garrakar’s, it had sent a similar set of messages before vanishing. Interplanar drift. Communications interferences. But the likelihood of two bastions befalling the same fate in such close succession….

  “Come on, Set,” she whispered to herself. “Think. Figure it out. What are you miss….”

  She trailed off as she saw that the bastion had submitted a head count shortly before it had gone dark. Those were scheduled; there shouldn’t be one here.

  Except… almost all interplanar communications were handled from one console which was linked directly to the enchantments that performed such communications. A head count could be sent from anywhere.

  Set’s belly filled with a strange sense of dread even before she opened the head count.

  Instead of the neat columns of names and figures, the message contained only three words.

  SHE MURDERED US

  The words hovered above her, and she drew them closer as she dimmed all the other glamours.

  Her father had warned Set that an invasion, when undertaken, came with a certain amount of treachery, especially from and among the devils.

  The devils? Was that who ‘she’ was a part of?

  Were the bastions being set adrift with their communications disabled?

  Was Apollo right about their sister?

  “No,” Set whimpered into the darkness. It was the answer to all three questions… and it was also a plea.

  Today was supposed to be glorious. If everything went to plan, she’d soon be standing above her sisters in her father’s eyes, the indisputable Monarch of Earth.

  And yet…

  I know Ashtoreth, Apollo had said. She’s a risk-taker. She’s crazy, and wild, and unpredictable—but she’s rarely stupid. Often, she’s even quite clever. But her eyes are ten times the size of her appetite and her dreams are ten times the size of her eyes. She’ll chase those dreams as far as they take her.

  “No,” Set whimpered again.

  She recalled the image of Ashtoreth and her stupid human meat-cake. Her sister was grinning, blood up to her elbows.

  “Not her… anyone but her.”

  Then she brought forward the map of all the bastions. Her eyes fixed on one point—the closest nexus bastion to Earth.

  Her bastion.

  Frantically, she sought to re-establish psychic contact with her sisters, sending her overture again and again until she felt them grudgingly answering.

  What? asked Haddad.

  You guys, she said into the telepathic bond. Even her mental voice sounded hoarse. Everyone, listen. I need you to listen. Apollo?

  Yes?

  She’s coming.

  Through the telepathic bond, Set sensed both her sister’s frustration… and her growing suspicion. Who’s coming, Set? She asked. And coming where?

  Ashtoreth, Set whispered. Heaven above, Asthoreth is coming—and she’s coming for me.