11
An hour later, I stand on Verus’s balcony at Purgatory’s Arena, along with much of the thrax nobility. Below me, angels and demons stream onto their seats along the tiered benches which surround the battle floor. Across the space, Armageddon settles onto a terrace that matches this one.
Soon the ceremony will begin. Giving out awards. Honestly, I’d rather be punctured with quills from a Hystrix demon. And those are tipped in poison.
While we wait, Mother and Father chat up Verus. The Queen of the Angels isn’t wearing her crown today. Even so, there’s no missing her aura of authority. Somehow, her straight black hair, intelligent eyes, and graceful bearing all scream, I’m in charge here. At the moment, no one seems to require my attention. As a result, I’ve taken to one of my favorite
