To Hell and Back by L.B. Gilbert

Chapter Forty-Four

Rhys shifted as soon as he crossed the threshold. The others followed suit, Jerik included. The young dragon would use his bulk to block access to the stone arch, part of the ruin where the doorway had snapped to life on this side.

The rest of the wing fell into formation behind him.

He consulted the tracking charm Ravenna had made. After his shift, it had ended up wrapped around one claw, the little stone touching his scales. It had been cold in his hand on Earth, like a little block of ice. But here on Sheol, it flared to life, warming incrementally. It would burn when they got close to Valeria.

Not that they needed it. Once they were aloft, the little homing charm confirmed what he already knew.

It’s the archangel, Naveen said in his head.

As we suspected. Cold rage fueled his wings. He could set a record reaching that bastard’s castle.

Bunching the muscles in his legs, he launched himself up, cutting through the fetid air.

The cataclysmic destruction that had begun before they left Sheol was complete now.

There were no trees, no water. Michael and the other angels had wiped those off the surface, turning the once-verdant landscape into a lifeless desert. Even the buildings made by their fragile neighbors, the Dareia, had been razed to the ground.

“It is a punishment befitting your defiance,” Michael had told him after their last battle.

Rhys had never wanted to kill a creature more than he’d had at that moment. But his people and the Dareia under their protection had been compromised. Rhys had been forced to forego his vengeance, a choice that had nearly cost him his mate now.

But he was going to rectify that. And this time, there would be no quarter for the Host.

Spotting the battlements of the archangel’s fort, he shouted the battle cry of the Draconai Imperia in his mind.

Fire and blood!

His men took up the cry, repeating it until it reverberated in his soul.

Hang on, Valeria. I’m coming.