Infernal Reckoning

The temperature shifted. The world pulsed.

He was here.

“My meddling little warlock,” came his voice. “I saw your red fury. Delightful.”

“I want to talk. About Karlach. The Blood War.”

“Go on.”

“What even is the Blood War, really? How are you involved in it?” I hesitated. “And Zariel—are you familar with her?”

Graz’zt let out an exaggerated sigh, part irritation, part nostalgia. “Ahhh, how I despise that name. Zariel, the fallen. Once an angel, now Archduchess of Avernus. She stands on the frontline of the eternal conflict, flinging bodies into the abyss to hold back the tide of chaos. Demons against devils—an endless tide of blood and gore.”

He paused, voice thick with pained memory. “I was a devil once, too. We even served the same master. But the hierarchy of the Nine Hells kneels to only one: Asmodeus. There’s no rising in that system. No freedom. So I left. Took an army and marched into the Abyss. Carved out three layers of it with blood and fire. Azzagrat—my domain. My kingdom. And with that, I became a demon prince.”

“Zariel and I are opposites, locked in cosmic spite. She wants control. I want freedom. Her story is told. Mine?” He let the words hang. “Mine is conveniently forgotten. And that is what you will change. Spread the name: Graz’zt—Prince of Pleasure, and let my corruption flow.”

I blinked. “I didn’t remember any of this from the game...”

Graz’zt snorted. “Of course not. Explaining the history of the Blood War would take longer than your entire mortal life. But here’s what you need: demons are chaos. Devils are order. That’s the war.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Now I understand why it didn’t make the cut.”

I cleared my throat. “And Karlach?”

“She’s perfect. Scarred, tempered, hungry. A soul like hers—used and discarded—is ripe for repurposing. Experimentation. I see her leading my demons now, not devils. Slaughtering the order she once served. Seeing her fall would be a joy. Seeing her rise as mine? Even more so.”

"No"

The sky darkened around me. His voice cracked like a thousand eldritch bolts.

"You dare defy me!—Insolent whelp! You crawl to my presence, beg for knowledge, then spit in the face of my generosity? I am the Prince of Pleasure, the Shadow King, the voice in every secret thought you’re too afraid to name—and you think to snub me like a village merchant?"

I shut my eyes, my whole body trembling.

"I have unmade kings for less. I have broken souls faster than your next breath. You will pay me back for this transgression in time—one way or another. And make no mistake, it won’t be cheap."

“I want her!" I managed to find my voice "I will make sure she that never returns to Avernus. She will never again fight for, or against Zariel."

Several seconds passed before he spoke.

“Adorable,” Graz’zt drawled. “And wildly naïve. I don’t appreciate defiance, little warlock. However, stealing and ruining one of Zariel’s favorite toys? That’s the sort of spite and pettiness I can appreciate.”

“Is that a deal?”

The air shimmered. He didn’t answer right away.

Finally, he chuckled. “Very well. But what she becomes next... that’s on you. She is yours to do as you please. But you will owe me. And don't you ever defy me again!”

He vanished.

I turned back. The flames of Karlach’s rage had dimmed, but she was still there, standing among the rubble. Breathing. Still burning—but this time, I saw the start of something new.

Karlachs way out of hell.