The fires of the Maw? The hellish landscape of the Maw surfaced before Devos's eyes once again.
The Shadowlands was the realm of the six gods of death. When creatures of the Plane of Reality died, their departed souls all gathered there.
The Shadowlands was a forgiving realm, and the Arbiter showed great leniency when judging departed souls.
Even so, there were still souls beyond redemption, and a place was needed to judge them.
That place was Soulrender, a realm of suffering that refined evil, deceit, greed, and every twisted, negative emotion.
When Devos was young, she had followed the Archon into the War of the Six Gods in the Shadowlands. That had been her first encounter with the Maw.
The Maw had two parts. Its physical plane was the Jailer's stronghold, home to his servants, soldiers, and power.
The other part was a chaotic plane of the void.
Power ran rampant there once more, and distinct layers of soul-devouring flames filled every inch of the landscape.
If an ordinary penitent touched even a trace of those flames, their soul would twist beyond recognition. In the end, amid terrible suffering, their spiritual body would merge with the fires of the Maw, strengthening its power.
Devos had no idea how the Maw had come into being. But she thought she might have guessed how it had grown so powerful.
This purgatorial place of punishment was clearly a realm of ultimate evil, forged by refining wicked souls.
The most terrifying part was that its flames were formed from twisted souls beyond redemption.
Now, a living being had brought the Maw's power out of the Shadowlands. Along with her shock, doubts arose in Devos's heart.
Just as Lord Rowan had said, the order of the Shadowlands was not immutable.
If someone sought to