Glasya's frustration knew no bounds at the moment. Her deal with her father had failed. Speculo's original gambit had failed. The spell had failed. And it'd be years before anyone, even they, could try again. Her daughters were trapped with Asmodeus in the depths of Hell and, ever since he had wisened up to her exceptionally powerful scrying orb, he had blocked her from seeing into his layer.

She had also run out of things to throw.

The mortals would come for Jeminya, she knew, but while it had been a whole year already for Baator, it had only been a few hours in Directian. She had to watch as each minute ticked by almost picture by picture for the ones who had been accompanying her daughters, so often she kept the orb blank out of anger. Her father had sped up time in Baator just to torture her and her daughters, and she was powerless to alter it.

Glasya had resorted to polishing the chains in her bedroom anxiously when one of her Erinyes knocked on her chamber door.

"I instructed all of you not to disturb me," the Archduchess of Malbolge purred dangerously. The Erinyes opened the door anyway with a small smirk on her face.

"There is a being here who wishes to discuss the terms of a contract, my lady."

"I am not in the mood for—"

"A being by the name of Simula Malum?"

The Erinyes lay flat after Glasya mowed her down in her extreme haste. She flew out of the palace so quickly that she left a hole in the ceiling and looked down at the two lovingly familiar tieflings at the palace doors. Glasya faltered a bit, though, when she saw the state they were in.

As expected from her more cunning daughter, Simula looked absolutely fine, a smug smile plastered to her face and her sorceress robes as pristine as one could expect. Jeminya, however… there was more purple on her than there was red, and Glasya was nearly sick. She only faltered for a moment before she flew down to where Simula stood proudly.

"Hello, Mummy, we're home," her youngest said, holding a battered, torn, and limp Jeminya in her arms. "I think Granddaddy played a little too hard with Jeminya, though."

Glasya took her eldest child into her arms and rolled her eyes at Simula, "You don't say. Pray tell, how did you get out of there?" Simula just raised her eyebrows, and Glasya had a good idea that her daughter had blasted her way through whatever menial guards Asmodeus had left in his dungeons. She shook her head; she was her daughter, all right.

"Come, let's get her cleaned up," Glasya said, wrapping her wing around her other daughter's shoulders and leading her inside. The door opened and a few Erinyes swiftly came forward with balms and bandages for Jeminya, which Glasya took in her off wing. She led Simula to her private chambers and turned her eyes toward her daughter. "It's good to have you home, Simmy, though how in Baator are you not in similar pain as Jemmy?"

Simula pondered for a moment before answering, "It may have something to do with that diamond spell that dear Faerthurin fool put on me. You remember me telling you about her, don't you?"

The amount of frustration Glasya felt at that statement was painstakingly disguised as just a single twitch as she stared at her daughter in feigned confusion. "Diamond spell?"

"Yes, the mortals that I've been playing with tried to reform me by sticking me in a diamond. Quite interesting. I'd never heard of that kind of spell before," Simula continued. They had reached Glasya's chambers and the duchess gently laid Jeminya on her bed. With the skill of a mother who had to bandage a few too many boo-boos, Glasya began to dress some of the more severe wounds as Jeminya laid still and breathed shallowly.

"So, they cast this diamond spell on you and that's why there's no connection?"

"No," Simula answered, peering over the books her mother had on her shelves, "the connection is still there, it's just very faint. For example, one of her legs is broken, but I only feel like I have a cramp. Be careful there, Mum, I think her liver is bruised." Glasya took her hand away from the area she had been wrapping and glared at Simula.

"You might have mentioned that sooner, Simmy."

"You might have asked, Mummy."

Glasya rolled her eyes and smiled, "It's good to have you home, dear."

"It's good to be home."

Gently, Glasya rolled Jeminya over so she could see her back. It was almost worse as huge bloody gashes ran the length of it. There was absolutely no fabric left as it had all be torn away by whips, knives, and claws. She carefully traced the wounds with her balm-dipped fingers and realized that a decent number of them were fresh – less than an hour old. These must have been inflicted right before Simula had found her sister.

"So, the mortals used the diamond on you to… reform you. How did you get out?" Glasya asked, trying not to let the frustration at the mortals who cared for and listened to her eldest daughter seep into her voice.

"Oh, after nearly a year of torture, Jemmy finally broke. Granddaddy came in and crushed the diamond and let me out, then put me in my own cell, claiming he 'wasn't done with the good one yet', which suit me just fine," the younger twin said casually, raking her nails across the scrying orb in the center of the room, "I think he underestimated my abilities, which was foolish considering what I pulled off in Alatastica, but Granddaddy never was one to acknowledge someone else's skill, was he?"

Glasya stifled a chuckle as Simula bid the orb change to the Directian palace and finished, "Either way, he was foolish not to contain me better. So, I staged a jailbreak, stole some Styx coins off a devil I killed, grabbed Jem, and came to see you."

"I see. I do hope you made them suffer."

"Have you met me, Mummy?"

"I suppose I have once or twice," her mother commented, sitting her daughter upright. She used her wings to hold Jeminya steady and her other two wings to hold up her arms so that she could bandage Jeminya's entire torso. Glasya could only imagine how embarrassed Jeminya would be that her clothes had been torn to pieces and that anyone was seeing her in such a state, but she was safe with Mum now; surely she'd be all right.

Once she had finished wrapping her daughter's middle, she began to address her face and neck. Her throat had been rubbed raw by some sort of metal if the shavings in the wound were any indication, and her face had been cut in such ways to elicit the most pain – torture, no doubt, for information on Simula's whereabouts. Jeminya's skin had been stained purple, and her mother had to scrub hard in order to get the caked blood off of her beautiful scarlet face. She checked her eyes; still a vibrant royal blue, but with little specks of purple in the retina indicating that blood vessels in her eyes had popped at some point.

Or someone had injected something into them.

Glasya kissed her daughter's forehead after balming and bandaging her, then turned to Simula. "I've been working on a way to separate you two, dear. While I think your little scheme to use the connection to your advantage during your little 'game' with your sister and her mortal band of heroes was nothing short of brilliant, it's causing more trouble than it's worth at this point." Simula's eyebrows raised.

"You want to get rid of the link?" she asked, surprised, "That would make life much easier, to tell the truth. Dying all of a sudden, being brought back to life, feeling a Tyrannosaurus Rex's stomach acid eating at my feet… Yes, I'd like that nuisance gone. But I'm surprised at you. You're the one who put it there, Mummy dearest."

Glasya shot her a look and replied, "You know very well why – that blasted worm will forever be frozen in my mind as one of my few moments of terror. But you are big girls now, and it's just a hindrance to both of you. And I've been working on a way to separate you two for years since Granddaddy refused me."

"Well, let me see it," Simula insisted, and Glasya opened her special mirror with a few words and handed Simula a stack of papers. The sorceress took the papers and sat down on the foot of the bed to read while her mother continued to tend to Jeminya's wounds, moving down to the hips. The flesh on her sides had been nearly stripped off, and Glasya couldn't help but gag when she saw what someone had done to her daughter's most delicate places.

Simula off-handedly commented, "Awful, isn't it?"

"I'll kill every single one of them," Glasya snarled, "As well as 'Granddaddy' if I have to."

"While the sentiment is nice, Mummy," Simula remarked, still reading the parchments and leafing through them casually, "I know you and I can do better than brute force. And Daddy as well. I'm assuming he's here?"

"In Baator, yes. In Malbolge, no. He's meeting with Bel and Zariel in Avernus to discuss a deal," Glasya growled, tending to Jeminya delicately. Simula nodded.

"Of course. Daddy the diplomat."

The two sat in silence as Glasya worked and Simula read until the elder of the two whispered, "I've missed you terribly, my little butterfly. You have no idea how much." Simula smiled a rare genuine smile but didn't lift her eyes from the papers.

"I missed you too, Mother."

The next night, Jeminya slept more peacefully than she had in a year under the influence of her mother's very strong potions, and Glasya and Simula began setting up the ritual for the separation spell. At Glasya's unilateral command, the Erinyes had spent the last two days scrambling all over Baator for the necessary ingredients – a special herb from Minauros, brimstone from Avernus, a drop of archdevil blood from Stygia (Glasya had fetched that from Levistus herself and had taken a whole hand), and silk from the spiders in Lolth's lair among other things – and Simula had painstakingly spent the last four hours writing the proper runes in blood from Malbolge's river mixed with the other ingredients. After looking over the spell, she had made a few tweaks to some of the wording and added in the spider silk, and the two felt fairly confident that it would work.

Simula held the sleeping Jeminya in her arms as Glasya paced around the circle, whispering an infernal version of the Banishment spell that had been blended with Dispel Magic, Dispel Curse, and several other spells not commonly found in mortal books. The letters on the ground glowed a brilliant scarlet and fluid tendrils sprouted from each one. The tendrils wrapped themselves around the twins and bound them tight, then turned to a brilliant white color as they appeared to sap the curse away. The magical "vines" continued to alternate colors for a few minutes until Glasya finished the incantation, at which point they melted onto the floor, leaving a ring of straight lines pointed at the women.

Once more, a brilliant flash of white light enveloped them, and once the light subsided, the floor had been cleared of the mixture and the twins stood as they had before.

"Do you think it worked, Simmy?" Glasya asked, collecting her sleeping daughter from her youngest's arms.

"Hmm. Let's check," Simula replied, then used her impressively sharp nails to scratch her other palm. A thin purple line appeared on her skin, but no matching one appeared on Jeminya's. Glasya tried her best to contain her joy, so she resorted to hugging her unconscious child to her and enveloping Simula in one of her wings.

"Come, Simmy. I have a plan to discuss with you."

It was well over a week before Glasya felt that Jeminya was well enough to wake up from her sleeping potion haze. The wounds had closed, her eyes had healed, and the skin on her hips and neck had started to granulate in. Her left femur was still damaged – it had been broken as Simula had said – but considerably less so with Glasya's spells, so Jeminya would at least be able to walk, though not painlessly. She withheld the evening dose and waited patiently by her daughter's bedside for her to wake.

Jeminya's eyes fluttered half-open carefully, and she found herself in a magnificently large, soft, warm bed. She squeezed the covers; was she back in Directian? Had her friends come to rescue her and she had just fallen unconscious during the attempt? The last thing she remembered was the door to her cell banging open and a bright orange light causing the devils tormenting her to shrivel on the spot before she passed out again.

She commanded her eyes to focus and she could see clearly for the first time in months. Oin must have healed the pinpricks in her retinas and the gashes on her forehead. She'd thank him later. Directly in front of Jeminya was a tall plinth with a book on it, and behind it she could make out the outline of a large scrying orb. Perhaps she was in Faerthurin's room…

A hand grasped hers, and with a twinge of pain, she turned her head to see a pale hand squeezing her limp one. Rose? No, she wouldn't hold my hand… Would she? Maybe it's Amber…

"Jemmy?" Jeminya's eyes flew open. She hadn't heard that voice in years.

"Mum?" she asked on the tail end of a sob as she turned her head to look at Glasya's surprisingly gentle human gaze. Tears spilled from her blue eyes as her mother caressed her cheek, and she kept murmuring "Mummy, Mummy…" over and over again. She tried to lift her arms to hug her mother but she couldn't, so Glasya did it for her when she saw her struggle. The poor paladin of Hieroneous clung to her mother, the Archduchess of Malbolge and Patron of Lust, and bawled.

Glasya had eagerly let her daughter convalesce for a few days more while she took care of business with Dispater and Simula. The mildly ridiculous ruler of Dis had absolutely no idea of what she was plotting, so Simula was whisked to the second layer of Hell with little argument. The cunning matriarch had slipped two scrying orbs to her daughter, one to keep their communication open and one…

"Just in case, dear. Now go have fun as only you can," Glasya whispered and winked. Simula showed her confusion with just a lift of her eyebrow but nodded obediently as Glasya pushed her toward Dispater and the waiting Styx ferry. She then walked off to tend to the duties she had been neglecting since her daughters' arrival – unrepentant sexual predators to torment, souls to harvest, the like. Normally she took great joy in her work, watching the beastly souls writhe in agony as she tormented them in the ways they had tormented their victims compounded by a thousand, but today she found she was rushing. After all, she had eternity with them whereas every moment with her daughters was precious, and she did want to get back to Jeminya.

When she returned to her chambers, she saw Jeminya standing for the first time and staring at the large scrying orb. The scene was very comforting; the dragon, the gnome, and the child of the ranger were all curled up in a lush bed together. Glasya could tell they had been crying – their puffy eyes and the desperation with which they clung to one another betrayed that much – and she could tell that her daughter had been doing the same. Jeminya placed a hand over the orb, and the image blurred to find the dwarf looking out over the Directian city at night. His gaze was focused and serious, as his often was, and he was standing on the balcony of a very familiar room that he had not seemed to touch. Jeminya whisked the image away over to the blonde human and her mutt, both lying in the grasses of the royal gardens in an area that had been unscathed by the battle and looking forlornly up at the stars. Another wave showed the elf and half-elf lovers clasping their hands together as they slept. Her daughter gazed sadly at the orb and sighed.

"They do miss you, Jemmy," Glasya piped up, startling her daughter.

Jeminya looked over at the door and screamed at the devil that had entered her room. She picked up the first object she could and threw it at the devil to keep it away. The creature's eyes widened and changed into a human form resembling her mother, but that just made Jeminya cry and scream even more. She threw a heavy book and scrambled away from the orb, desperately searching for a way to get out.

Glasya realized her mistake and beat a hasty retreat. She should have expected that kind of reaction if Jeminya saw a devil, but… she had hoped that she would be the exception. She was her mother after all, but then even she knew that torture scars run deep. She should have made sure to change before going in.

She waited until Jeminya had quieted down, and even waited longer. Four hours went by before she went in again, this time in her human form, and saw her daughter staring at the orb again. The mortals had not moved as only seconds had passed in Alatastica, but Jeminya's longing was evident even though her companions were still. Glasya knocked on the door and this time when Jeminya saw her, she did not throw anything. Instead, she stared at her with hollow eyes.

"They miss you very much, Jemstone. These last few weeks, I've watched them panic and cry over you. However, to them you have only been gone a day. It's a little pathetic to watch, really." She hoped a return to her normal caustic tone would make her daughter smile, but she hoped in vain.

Jeminya turned her gaze back to the orb, whispering, "I miss them too… Every single one of them."

Glasya's heart ached; her daughter's heart was broken, her spirit was beaten, and her body was only beginning to heal. She wished that she could bring her companions here to be with her, but she had no pact nor reason to drag them here, and Belial would have her wings if she tried to do so without just cause.

"I am… sorry, Jeminya," Glasya apologized hesitantly and came up behind her daughter. She was hurt to see that Jeminya shrank at her approach, but she knew that the wounds on her psyche would take much more time to heal and that it was not because of her. Possibly…

Jeminya stay sequestered in Glasya's chambers for a few more days, alternating between sleeping, reading, and staring at the frozen images in the scrying orb while bundled in a warm blanket. The whole week was just images of her friends sleeping since it was only the second night since she had been taken in Alatastica. She wished desperately that she could reach out to them, tell them that she was alive, tell them she needed their help. She knew she would return to Baator when she died, but that didn't mean she wanted to rush the homecoming. She'd had enough for several lifetimes.

Jeminya was surrounded by devils who wanted to hurt her, completely trapped. She could hear the whispers and the hisses and the screams even in her sleep, what little she got. There were no claws or whips or chains or blades licking at her skin, but she could still feel the aching fire of old wounds and new fear.

But this time she was not chained. And she had to find a way to get back.

As the days wore on, Glasya was pleased to see Jeminya making more and more journeys out of their room. The clean emerald-colored robes she had given to her covered the healing scars nicely as Jeminya tentatively began to explore the palace with her mother. Glasya was wise enough not to show her the… pleasure chambers below the palace floors, so they would often remain in the main halls. The two of them strolled along, chatting as much as Jeminya's fear would allow her, and the Erinyes beat a hasty retreat if they even so much as smelled Jeminya coming. (Mostly because Glasya had threatened them with no souls to please them for as long as she felt like it if they did not comply, but Glasya wouldn't tell Jeminya that.)

"I have some good news, Jemmy," Glasya said one day as they lounged on the comfortable pillows. Jeminya didn't reply, but she turned her eyes toward her mother.

"Daddy's coming home!" Glasya squealed giddily, and the corner of Jeminya's mouth twitched into what she hoped would be a smile in a few more weeks, which was reward enough for her mother. "He's finally finished his business in Avernus. He'll be here in a little while; I think he's still with Simula for the moment."

Jeminya cautiously whispered, "I'd… like to see him."

"I thought you might. He was so very upset when I told him you were home and he couldn't pull himself away. He's missed you so much, darling," Glasya said, relishing in the joy she saw on her daughter's face, however slight it may be. She regaled her daughter with stories of their adventures since he had died and she had been forced to return to Baator, and she even succeeded in getting Jeminya to almost smile once.

When Speculo arrived later that evening, he dashed straight into the main hall and didn't even greet his wife before he knelt in front of Jeminya and pulled her into his arms. Again, Jeminya immediately began to bawl once she was safely in the arms of one of her parents, and he whispered sweet words to her as he stroked her hair.

Speculo Malum looked exactly as he had when she had last seen him; long brown hair that he kept shaggy and loose unless there was something formal he needed to do, thick brown goatee, dark blue eyes that she used to think she inherited, and familiar lines of age and laughter fanning his eyes and mouth. He felt a little lighter than he had, but that she could attribute to his current state as a soul, though probably one with more meat to him than most thanks to Glasya. His hands were smaller than she remembered, but still large enough to pet her head easily.

"Shh, Jemmy, it's okay, Daddy's here, I've got you," he crooned softly in her ear, and she buried her face in his shoulder.

For a moment, all was right, and Glasya looked on in satisfaction. Her world had returned to her. She was content.

Once Speculo returned home, Glasya left much of the care of their daughter to him. She had her duties to attend to and didn't want her daughter to see her like that, especially in her fragile state. According to her husband, Jeminya spent most of her time crying or staring at the orb. He maintained that the mortal world was a source of comfort to her, even if there had been trials there, and that she ached to return. Glasya, however, knew that her daughters were borderline fugitives, and Asmodeus would not let them go back a second time. Simula wouldn't care; she was having a good time on Dis, slowly carrying out the task her mother had given her and watching the events unfold. She didn't need to return and was safe from Asmodeus's reach while under the service of Dispater.

Glasya just didn't have the heart to tell her poor broken baby that she couldn't leave.

She stayed away from their room for a few days to allow Speculo to tend to their daughter. She needed someone comforting, and Glasya had never been good at that. She had barely managed to do it when Jeminya first woke up, so she had Speculo try his hand. He always had been the doting Daddy and Jeminya had always been his little girl, so she hoped that his presence would heal her and help her acclimate to the environment more quickly.

She was right… and very wrong.

About five days after Speculo's return, Glasya crept into her chambers to catch a glimpse of her sleeping baby. Jeminya was curled up in a ball, whimpering while asleep, and her father lay on his side and rubbed her back. He didn't need sleep – he was dead after all – and he had discovered that this technique helped her sleep a bit better. Glasya crept over to the side of the bed Speculo lay on in front of her mirror of memories and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"How was she today, M'daji?"

"Better. Only three crying fits. And she ate."

"How many bites?"

"Five."

"Better than yesterday, I suppose, but she needs to eat more," Glasya murmured. "I thought her favorite lamb shank would entice her…"

"It did. She ate three bites. And two bites of vegetable soup. You did well, my love," Speculo encouraged her, kissing her cheek and holding her face with both hands. "She may well never fully recover."

Glasya nodded. She had tried to prepare herself for that possibility. She had seen the results of torture of every kind across millenia repeatedly and endlessly. But she had hoped-

"BACK, DEVIL!" Jeminya shrieked and leaped at Glasya, who had forgotten to change into her human form. Even weakened, her strength surprised her mother, and the two went crashing backwards, shattering the mirror. Jeminya grabbed a shard from the mirror and held it to Glasya's face, her nails digging into Glasya's throat. Her own blood trickled down the glass shard, but she didn't seem to notice. Her pupils were dilated and Glasya could see fear and survival instinct along with her own reflection in their depths.

"Jem! Jeminya, stop!" Speculo tried to reason and pull her away, but Jeminya was too determined to get rid of the devil in front of her so she slashed Speculo's hand with the shard.

"You won't hurt my father, devil, and you won't hurt me anymore," Jeminya snarled, and Glasya felt a twinge of fear. Not for herself, but for her daughter and husband. Jeminya motioned to bite Glasya's face and plunged the shard of the mirror toward her mother's stomach. "I'll kill you first!"

"NO!" Speculo cried and managed to divert Jeminya's arm so that she cut Glasya's side instead of her belly. At this betrayal, Jeminya whipped around and cut at her father, missing most of him but succeeding in cutting his bag of Styx coins from his waist. Thinking quickly and acting even more so, she snatched the bag from the bed, kicked Glasya and Speculo's stomachs, and used that leverage to launch herself toward the door. Before they could recover enough to pursue, she was gone.

"Gods, no!" Speculo shouted as he collected himself and ran after her, "She'll be killed!" Glasya swallowed what little air she could get in after the strangulation and the kick, grabbed her husband, and flew them both up and out of the palace. Her Erinyes were doing their job too well and didn't even bother pursuing Jeminya as per her earlier orders, which was probably for the best. King and Queen surveyed the terrain from where they hovered in the air above the skull-like palace, and Speculo squeezed Glasya's arm when he spotted her.

"She's running toward the Styx, love!" he cried, and Glasya spotted a tiefling dressed only in a white nightgown darting towards the Lakes. She swooped down and followed, her leathery wings propelling her quickly across the fleshy landscape.

Jeminya deftly dodged in between the lakes, and Glasya heard her shout something indiscernible as she passed. She caught the gist, however, when the caretaker of the Lakes screeched and flew toward them, screaming, "Thief! Thief!"

"Calm yourself!" Glasya roared, but the devil seductress clung onto Speculo, clawing at his face and continuing to scream.

"I'll deal with this, go get Jeminya!" he ordered and let himself slip from his wife's grasp into the clutches of the raving Erinyes. Glasya cut her losses and flew faster, only encountering Jeminya as she was yards away from Charon's ferry. In desperation, Glasya dove down as fast as she could.

"Jeminya, please, stop!" she cried brokenly, and Jeminya whirled around to face her.

"STAY BACK, DEVIL BITCH!" Jeminya screamed, and Glasya stopped as if she had been slapped. "I WILL KILL YOU!" Jeminya's face was a mask of pure, abject, primal fear. She was not facing her mother, Glasya realized, but a beast set to kill her, and she was prepared to fight. Jeminya's mind had been warped to one of a prisoner, not a princess, a warrior, or even anything resembling a daughter, and she would escape if it killed her. And Glasya saw it.

This moment of realization cost her too long, and Jeminya scrambled into the boat. Glasya collapsed to the ground limply as Charon's ferry disappeared into the fog. She knew it was folly to try to pursue Charon once he had a fare, so she knelt on the shore in despair as tears rolled down her cheeks.

She didn't know who to pray to for her daughter's safety, but she knew someone had to be listening as she whispered, "Don't let her die."

With a flap of her mighty wings, she went to rescue her husband and console herself in the cries of the Erinyes that would not be caring for the Lakes for the next eight months. And she would wait for those mortal fools to come and help her.

They were her last hope.