The "Hall of Eternal Sighs" in Hell didn't just shake the moment I stepped in—it practically had a seizure! But this wasn't some basic earthquake. It was pure, unadulterated "Mady" energy making its grand comeback.
One second I was on that damp, vomit-scented club floor, and the next, I was in Astaroth's arms, draped in my famous "Veil of Torment Woven from the Hair of a Hundred Witches." Talk about a glow-up! The confetti raining down wasn't that cheap paper stuff either; it was bone dust and shards of dying stars.
Vision? Check.
Glamour? Double check!
The whispers in the hall cut off like a bad Wi-Fi connection. Massive waves of fire erupted as the doors swung open, and the Seven Princes of Hell slid in like they were walking the runway at Paris Fashion Week.
Beelzebub was here.
