Abaddon's Mark

Chapter Four

Nillon sat at a table in the restricted section with four books laid out before him. His folio sat on the table. Notes scribbled out from the various books.

Abaddon had been cast into Hell for claiming to be the One True God, but only according to Mason lore. Much of Mason lore involving demons could be trusted as true, Jasor told him in confidence. The Masons knew a great deal more about heaven and hell than they let on to the Seven.

Who were forbidden from stepping foot on Mason sacred grounds.

But any mage with half a mind knew that the One True God didn't exist. There was no Heaven above, no immortal sin. No Mason, no Hellfire, no prophecy.

Hellfire believed.

They believed Naena would birth Hellfire.

On the outskirts of the club, Nillon couldn't reach the secret library and delve into the prophecy. He didn't know the details, having been kept out for a reason. Perhaps because he sought the war mage path and Hellfire stood for healing.

But that made no sense.

If Naena birthed Hellfire, she certainly would not bring about a healing to the world. Any creature who took after the title would rain fire and destruction upon the world like the sacred spell Hellfire guarded.

There were many sacred spells in the school, each handed down by the Magi and carefully guarded. Passed on in absolute secret to prevent the Seven from discovering that the forbidden magic was still healthy and whole.

The Masons came about, or at least gained popularity, after the fall of the Magi. The two were surely linked.

Magi... hellfire... Naena.

Abaddon.

It was all linked.

If only he could figure out how.

And everything had begun swirling around at the mention of that damned word.

Prophecy.

Many spoke of prophecy, but no mage attempted casting to predict the future. Thus, a prophecy could not exist. He pushed the prophecy to the side once more and forced himself to focus on his notes, trying to find some thread, a pattern among them which would help him find more.

The Queen of the Damned sat a throne of the forged souls of the damned. Below her sat the Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones. Below them were the Dominions, Virtues, and Powers. And below them were the titans, demons, and mages.

Mages passed into hell served in the hierarchy, that much many of them knew. Anyone who researched into hell learned that fact quickly enough. If they didn't learn it at Amos, they learned from the damned Masons.

Living mages could only ever call upon demons. Reaching beyond a demon was almost always lethal. Calling a titan had happened only once that Jasor could find in all his years of study.

If a mage didn't call on a titan, they certainly couldn't call on the Queen of Hell. And if a mage couldn't call on the Queen of Hell, then how had a demon done just that?

What kind of cocky creature had been called to the plains of Earth that he even dared call upon her?

She visited upon the moon, channelling hell magic through the light of the moon. That cold cast of moonlight could cut a dragon's wings to shreds—the work of Abaddon attempting to displace the balance of magic in the world.

Nillon had always viewed dragons as the enemy. No better than the Seven, if one could consider them intelligent as the stories spoke.

Jasor set him straight on all that.