When Davilo’s anger had finally settled, he scanned the ruin he’d caused. Blackened fields as far as the eye could see. He had razed a country to the ground off the whims of his elevated heart rate. When his anger settled, when he looked at what he’d done, the anger came back and turned inward. It dripped from his throat, into his belly where it fermented and bubbled into something even more self-serving than anger. Shame. In that moment, it became crystal clear that the world would be better with one less devil in it.

  Davilo stood in front of a vast lake that had somehow survived the decimation he’d caused and decided to cease Hell’s Fury once and for all.

  There was a small snag. Davilo closed his eyes and walked into the lake, but for as far as he walked he could not feel the water touch his toes. He looked down, he saw that his feet were completely dry. He had walked into a knee high depth of the lake but the water refused to go near him, evaporating by his ambient heat. He took a step back out to the beach again and ran toward the lake, diving in to try to get to the water before he could burn it off. He dove headfirst into pebbles, gravel entering his mouth. He spit it out, feeling defeated at his lack of options.

  “Comply lake!” Davilo said, “Comply or I shall cast a burning ball so hot I… Oh forget it. I burn too bright. Of course my problem is that I’m too devilish for even death to take me.”

  “And why would you like Death to take you, old friend?” Said a cavernous voice behind him. Davilo turned around. A hooded figure sat in a lawn chair among the ruin, sipping from a glass with a little umbrella in it. The glass had all manner of fruits inside it.

  “Could this trickery be your doing?”

  The hooded figure waved Davilo’s conception away with his hand, “I could not make you any hotter than you have made yourself, Davilo. Please, pull up a chair, old friend.”

  Davilo walked up, and suddenly there was a chair next to him. Made of treated leather, able to withstand the heat of Davilo’s fiery behind, “I suppose you want to talk feelings.”

  “We could just drink some daiquiris, Davilo.” The hooded figure said, “I see no reason why we need to go on about our feelings.”

  “You’ve been collecting people,” Davilo said. The hooded man shrugged his shoulders and offered Davilo a daiquiri.

  “Sit. If you’d like to stew, I’ll stew with you.”

  Davilo sat down, “There is something you could do for me, old friend.”

  “I know what you’re going to ask me. And it makes me sick to what’s left of my stomach that you would.”

  Davilo watched as the hooded figure drank from his daiquiri, the liquid made its way through the figure’s internal organs, and leaked out from under the hood’s robes.

  Davilo said, “But will you do it? If we are friends as you say, would you do me this kindness?”

  “I will not take your life, Davilo.”

  “Then you are no friend of mine.” Davilo said.

  “Aren’t you tired of taking lives?” The hooded figure asked.

  “Aren’t you?” Davilo quipped.

  “I am.” The hooded figure said, “I am no longer angry. I’m tired. Tired of killing and tired of being angry. I imagine you’re the same.”

  Davilo shook his head, “You don’t know the half of it.”

  The hooded figure looked behind him, “You’re right. I only walked up from the north side. I have yet to see the other half.”

  “Funny,” Davilo said joylessly, “Help me. Cease my tiredness.”

  The hooded figure shook his head, “You are tired of the choices you’ve made. And the person those choices have burdened you to be.”

  “I know all this.”

  “So make new choices. Become a different person; Instead of taking one more life, foster some. Become someone that builds something instead of destroys it.”

  Davilo sipped his daiquiri, “The daiquiri was named after a town. An Ulmun engineer was establishing a mine near the Purple River. Dropped everything. Became a bartender instead. I’ve been to the town.” Davilo looked down at the grape in the drink, “The original doesn’t use fruit in it. Just a wedge of lime on the rim.”

  The hooded figure reached over and clinked his glass with Davilo’s. And they both took a long sip, “It’s a new version. One of my own creations. So… Can I count you in?”

  Davilo noticed that he was able to drink the liquid in full. Maybe it was talking to an old friend. Maybe it was the chair. But likely, it was the prospect of thinking about something new that calmed him. But Davilo wondered about the foolishness of the dream.

  “How will the kingdoms react when they find out two of the five Calamities are working together?”

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  The figure pulled back enough just for Davilo to see a smile and a glint in his eye, “Two?”

  Davilo’s new aim was to protect. He would stay on his floor and if there was an invader, he would defend. He recruited displaced peoples from across the way. Firefolk, or earthfolk, or interesting characters that would do well on the firelord’s floor. Even still, he would place himself at a distance from the intruders, only fighting them when they were worthy of Davilo’s might. Davilo was a devil. Devils kept their promises. Even ones they made to themselves. Never attack first. Use your powers to protect those around you.

  Even though the Ducervi had done everything in their power to trap him, to wound him, to subjugate him for their own personal gain, and all he could think of was the mercy he should show them. But his mind was pulled to Sal. They were not going to pull him out of the auction house. They were drunk on the prospect of defeating Davilo. Davilo let out a wry laugh. It was his presence that had torched the mission after all. How rotten he was at subtlety. Davilo should have listened to Kip. He would need to fight back and save Sal. He would need to, just this once, break his deal with himself.

  Casios tried to pull up but the tail had too great a hold on him.

  “A little help here!” Casios called to the dwarf and Raka.

  “My axes are inside of him!” Said Raka.

  “I warned you all.” Davilo looked completely frozen behind the mountain of ice that coated his front half.

  “You let him out, you idiots.” Baela said, “Step away from Casios. He’s completely done for.”

  Davilo said, “You want my power? You want to be allowed to touch me? Fine. But make a deal with me,” Davilo said through the ice to Casios, “I’ll let you touch me and absorb my power as long as you pray to your maker first, and thank him for the opportunity to experience life one last time.”

  Baela looked around. He was covered in ice but a pillar of steam above the ice block. He was melting it, and quickly. His eyes lit on fire and glowing orange, he cocked his head to Casios, waiting for his answer.

  “What about Sal? I’ll get you the lizard if you lend me your power.”

  “Defeat your teammates and I shall let you have my power. Afterwards.”

  Casio’s head swiveled between looking up at Davilo and his teammates.

  “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering it!” Said Raka.

  “Lend it to me now,” Casios said, “Lend it to me now and I shall.”

  The ice had created a hole big enough for Davilo to escape. His whole body was misting as he shook his head, “You are too weak for such a deal,” he said, “I rescind my offer.”

  “No wait!” Casios said. Then he felt a slap on his face, the tail had released him from his binds and slapped him across the cheek. Blood spurted out of his mouth and he fell to the ground. “Weak,” Casios muttered angrily.

  As Casios looked up, he felt abject fear. The being standing in front of him was a devil. Covered in fire, with such ferocity that Davilo could have melted a mountain with eyes caps alone. He held up his pitchfork, completely covered in fire, staring right down at him. The dwarf came up on him and slammed his knife into Davilo. Davilo grabbed the dwarf’s armor.

  “Fire resistan–ahhH!” Davilo melted the metal at his touch. The molten wax dripped on the dwarf as the precious magic steel disintegrated. He pushed the dwarf away. Far away. He launched him thirty feet back and the dwarf skipped along the city’s stone road, rolling until his body collided with a fountain.

  He looked at Raka who took out two smaller hand axes, she turned to Baela, “Run.”

  Baela stuck up her staff again. The end was shaking. She called out to Davilo, “I was given a mission from the gods when your fires burned my country down, Devil. It was simple. Survive, and be granted the will to live. That’s why my boon is called ‘Magical Rage,’ The angrier I get, the stronger my magic becomes.”

  “Then perhaps you should thank me,” Davilo said wryly.

  “You son of a-” Baela cast three ice icicles and they shot off like bullets. Davilo waved his hands, he created walls of fires in front of them, one, two, three, four, each one weakening until they were reduced to harmless mist.

  Davilo stuck up his hand and a trail of fire on the ground started from the edges of his fingertips and raced in the direction he was pointing. Right toward Baela.

  “Say when,” Davilo said, his voice rattling from the dry air.

  The stretch of fire continued. Baela tried to run away from it. She zig-zagged out of the way, and behind buildings but every way she went, Davilo would merely wave his hand and the wall would follow, exploring the new direction. It hit Baela square in the back and she screamed as she dropped to the ground.

  “Son of a bitch.” Raka said, “I said we should have stayed. I… said we shouldn’t have gone into that stupid floor. She ran over to a well and started pulling on the rope attached.

  “Have I dealt with everyone?” Davilo said, “Children should be left to play with toys. I am not a toy.”

  Once Raka had a bucket full of the water, she dipped her fists in them, held them there and pulled them out.

  “Out of weapons, are we not?” Davilo asked.

  “Never really,” Raka said as she approached him, her dukes up.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid I am.”

  “Why?”

  “You didn’t leave your team to die. Give me the same chance.”

  She took steps forward, waiting for him to activate some kind of fire or something around him. Instead, he waved both hands and created a path in the fire specifically for her.

  “If we must,” He said.

  She was nervous. She kept her hands up the whole time as he walked toward them. She bounced on the balls of her feet, keeping herself agile. Raka started her career as a pugilist when she was nine after all. She walked toward the devil, who had a look of woe on his face.

  He let her get as close as she could. She reached out to punch him, he dodged. But he didn’t counter strike.

  “Try again.” Said the devil. She feigned a punch this time. Half throwing one hand and fully committing to the other. He dodged this too, merely placing his finger on her fist and pushing it back. Raka looked at her fist. It was completely burned.

  Raka shook her hand and held her fists up again. “I’ll keep going until I knock you down.”

  Davilo looked at her with such displeasure she’d think he was trying to do an impression of her father. Just then, a horde of enchanted animals ran forth. And in the back, riding Stormbristle was Sal.

  “Sal?” Said the devil, when he was distracted, she threw a punch that clocked him right in his face. She had actually landed a blow on him. He looked up at her and suddenly, he was less keen on playing nice.

  “Uh oh.” His fire consumed his devilish body again. The orc turned around to look for a way out but the path he had cleared for her was gone. She was surrounded in a small circle by a much larger fire. Whoops. Raka realized she could not even grab the last remaining axe she had stuck in him, as he’d melted that and let it drop to the ground as a metal puddle. A spire of fire erupted from the top of him, his orange eyes were locked in on her. But suddenly, all that stopped. He looked down and saw the tip of a rapier pierced through his heart. Casios stood up from behind him.

  “Too weak. Too weak. I’ll show you who’s too weak.” And Casios touched Davilo’s back with his palm, absorbing his power.

  Davilo looked at Raka and said, “Run.”

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