Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)Glasya, the only daughter to the King of Hell, was in something of a bind.
Her father, Belphegor, was dead. In battle, or so his generals claimed, it wasn't as if Hell had any shortage of wars, after all - but his spies told her by the hand of an ally. His slaves whispered of betrayal. His concubines... well, they said very little, as they had already been claimed by his generals and officers.
The fight over the throne began even before his body had cooled, raging in the halls of the Imperial Palace and spilling out into the domains of daemon Lords across the entire plane. By methods both subtle and overt, an entire universe was at war. Armies clashed, Lords and would-be Princes slew each other in duels, assassins stalked the shadows, and the Grand Parliament pushed forth terrifying, radical proclamations and outrageous amendments to the Infernal Laws.
It was absolute chaos, even for Hell.
Glasya might have made a bid for the throne herself, if not for the unfortunate fact of having been born a woman. A handful of female daemons claimed territories or commanded armies of their own, but by and large, a woman was considered a concubine at best. If she was lucky and cunning, she might ascend to the status of a Lord's wife or be acknowledged as the bearer of his children, but Glasya had slightly higher ambitions - if no way to realistically achieve them. When the first of her father's generals had proposed a marriage, she had sensed what was on the wind and fled the Imperial Palace in the company of her bodyguards, the Ashemedea.
There was no safe place, but Glasya had been taken in by Martell, the Spinner of Threads. Martell was a being so ancient she had come before the Fall, and though Glasya had not expected sympathy, nor for Martell to pick sides, the ancient had shared a secret with her - that the King had a son and heir, her twin, hidden away among mortal men to keep him safe.
The mortal world was a mystery to Glasya, though she had seen the souls of humans falling from it, overripe and bursting with sin. If that was where her ambitions pointed, she found herself determined to go, and Martell's cult had arranged a summoning, drawing Glasya's essence across the infinite silver desert that served as Hell's border.
Now, she finds herself alone on Earth, with nothing but a name and Martell's whispered descriptions to go on...
Her father, Belphegor, was dead. In battle, or so his generals claimed, it wasn't as if Hell had any shortage of wars, after all - but his spies told her by the hand of an ally. His slaves whispered of betrayal. His concubines... well, they said very little, as they had already been claimed by his generals and officers.
The fight over the throne began even before his body had cooled, raging in the halls of the Imperial Palace and spilling out into the domains of daemon Lords across the entire plane. By methods both subtle and overt, an entire universe was at war. Armies clashed, Lords and would-be Princes slew each other in duels, assassins stalked the shadows, and the Grand Parliament pushed forth terrifying, radical proclamations and outrageous amendments to the Infernal Laws.
It was absolute chaos, even for Hell.
Glasya might have made a bid for the throne herself, if not for the unfortunate fact of having been born a woman. A handful of female daemons claimed territories or commanded armies of their own, but by and large, a woman was considered a concubine at best. If she was lucky and cunning, she might ascend to the status of a Lord's wife or be acknowledged as the bearer of his children, but Glasya had slightly higher ambitions - if no way to realistically achieve them. When the first of her father's generals had proposed a marriage, she had sensed what was on the wind and fled the Imperial Palace in the company of her bodyguards, the Ashemedea.
There was no safe place, but Glasya had been taken in by Martell, the Spinner of Threads. Martell was a being so ancient she had come before the Fall, and though Glasya had not expected sympathy, nor for Martell to pick sides, the ancient had shared a secret with her - that the King had a son and heir, her twin, hidden away among mortal men to keep him safe.
The mortal world was a mystery to Glasya, though she had seen the souls of humans falling from it, overripe and bursting with sin. If that was where her ambitions pointed, she found herself determined to go, and Martell's cult had arranged a summoning, drawing Glasya's essence across the infinite silver desert that served as Hell's border.
Now, she finds herself alone on Earth, with nothing but a name and Martell's whispered descriptions to go on...