Targets

'Doevm would know what to do,' Frey thought as he tore his way through the crowd. 'Demons, weird floating doors, basements filled with souls; I don't know about any of this crap. All I know is that my targets are in front of me.' With each demon he cut down, his view of the shamans became more clear. Standing between the twins was the snarky captain, who still maintained a cocky smirk.

The otherworldly creature slammed the other side of the emerald door again and again, the smell of blood driving it into a ravenous craze. One of the black chains finally gave out, crashing to the ground with discordant clanks. The thrashing stopped, and the hairs on the back of Frey's neck rose up. The dark cracks of the emerald door lit up with the yellow light of an enormous, slitted eye.