The stone stairs stretched endlessly upward, winding into darkness. Seth’s boots echoed with each step, the sound swallowed by the silence of the Black Tower. Behind him, the Fourth Floor door had shut with a heavy finality. Ahead, the entrance to the Fifth loomed.
He paused before crossing the threshold.
The memory of Taurus’s boot grinding him into the dirt burned in his mind. His pride had been crushed that day, the Apostle’s words echoing like a curse: “Pathetic. Weak. Not worth remembering.”
Seth clenched his fists. No. I won’t be weak again. If I stop here, if I fear the next step, then I’ll never surpass them. Never reach the strength I had in Hell.
He shoved the door open.
A blast of icy wind roared out, stabbing into his lungs like frozen knives.
The world beyond was a desol
