Belial.
Darkness pooled in Jo's vision, making the edges of the world blur. Her breath caught as the name echoed inside her head. Belial.
Five years ago, she'd barely escaped him. The memory was burned into her bones: his dark magic clawing at her skin, his power suffocating the very air around him. By some stroke of luck or divine mercy, she'd slipped through his fingers.
She had prayed he would forget her. That the Demon King would set his sights elsewhere.
But the scent twisting in the air told her otherwise.
Faint, but unmistakable. An ancient, acrid smell of smoke and death. Belial was here.
Jo's hand instinctively brushed the side of her face, feeling the scar hidden beneath her magic mask. The scar he'd left when he tried to forcibly mark her, to claim her as something she
