03x01 - Chapter Twenty-One: The Hellbound Heart

[bunniefuu]

Welcome to Hell!

Nicholas?

Sabrina.

- Sabrina.
- Nick!

Nick!

Sabrina!

- You shouldn't be here.
- Well, neither should you.

Go!

Before he comes back.

Before who comes back?

Your father!

Leave, my lover.

No, leave me. I'll only slow you down.

Like heaven, I will.

Claudere portas mortis.

I love you, Nick.

Oh, Sabrina.

Daddy loves you too.

All right, my children.
Everyone, sit down, please,

and make a start. Clean plates, please.

Okay, sit down, everyone. Hi, darling.
How did you sleep?

- I slept okay, Aunt Hilda.
- Yeah, well, sit here, tuck in.

Okay, so I have made
a proper English fry-up for breakfast.

We have eggs and, uh, bacon,
fried bread, baked beans,

grilled tomatoes,
and some delicious bangers.

I thought we were having French toast
and strudel today?

I beg your pardon?

This is not a full-service restaurant.

This is our home,

whose doors
we graciously opened to you all

after the collapse of the Church of Night

at the hands of the villain,
Faustus Blackwood,

at great personal cost I might add.

Yet again, there was no hot water
for my bath this morning,

which is why
I have an announcement to make.

It's been a month.
You're sleeping on our floors.

You're wearing clothes
made from our drapes.

It is high time
to reopen the Academy of Unseen Arts

and resume worship
in the Desecrated Church.

- But who will be the Academy's director?
- What a question.

I will, of course.

Directrix.

Well, who will say Black Mass for us?

Never mind about that now.

Once you've finished breakfast,
gather up your belongings.

It will take many witches,
with many brooms,

to make those places tiptop again.

So who will say Black Mass,
do you reckon?

And will you still be High Priestess,
like you said?

And why not?

I know the rites,
the sacraments, the scriptures.

Well, then the question is,
who do we say Black Mass to?

Not the Dark Lord.

My so-called father
doesn't deserve our prayers,

not after what he did to us.

And what he continues to do to Nick.

I should have never have let
Madam Satan take him.

It's safer that way.

For us, but what about for Nick?

He's in Hell, suffering...

and that is not right.

Sabrina.

Leave her be, Hilda.

You can't coddle Sabrina on this one.

You know why she leaves
early every morning, don't you?

To go to those bloody gates.

She probably sits there on her own,
in the dark,

crying her little eyes out.

Sigils vicissim, sigils apertas.

Sigils vicissim, sigils apertas.

Sigils vicissim, sigils apertas.

'Brina?

Just a couple more sequences, Harvey.

Sure.

I just don't want my dad or any
of his crew to catch us on the way out.

Okay.

Try again tomorrow.

As many times as you want, Sabrina.

Hey, can I ask you a question?

What happens
if we do somehow get Nick out of Hell?

He still has a...

uh...

Devil inside him, right?

We'd find a better trap.

A better prison for my father.

You're amazing, you know that?

Nick betrayed you,

but you're still willing
to risk everything for him.

It's not that simple, Harvey.

When the Dark Lord asks you
to do something,

if you're indebted to him,
as we witches are,

or were, it's hard to say no.

Still was a d*ck move if you ask me.

Mmm.

Isn't it a little early in the season
for ice cream?

Spellman Sisters Mor... Father Black...
Fastu... How may I assist you?

How you doin', girl?

Are you getting any sleep?

Tons... in-between my nightmares.

'Brina, you...
you can't keep going on like this.

Like what?

Like going to the gates every day.

Well, you guys...

We're not saying
you should give up on Nick.

But you can't give up
on the rest of your life either.

That's what I've been saying.
You should join our band.

I'm not really in the mood
for singing these days, Harvey.

Or, conversely, you could sign up
for cheerleading with me.

You're not serious?

Why not?

I mean, we're 16, we love to dance,

and I mean,
it can't be all hell, all the time.

It's not all hell. It's all Nick.

Ms. Wardwell,

you're back?

Indeed, Mr. Marlin,
after some much-needed time off.

Not as principal anymore, but to teach.

Mr. Garland informed me that lately,
you have been focusing on epic poetry.

Beowulf, I believe.

But the poem I find myself drawn to
these past few weeks

is Dante's Divine Comedy,

specifically his Inferno,

detailing the poet's epic journey to Hell.

There's an excerpt in your textbook.

Who would like to lead the recitation?

You see,
you have to put your back into it.

Zelds. Oh, Zelds.

Oh, look, sister, the false idol
has been smashed to rubble.

Oh, delightful.
Can we have a chat for a minute?

Thank you.

The Council phoned,
they are convening an important meeting,

and it is Father Blackwood's turn to host.

Praise it to heaven.

The Council hasn't a clue
what's happened here,

and if they work out what we did
to the Dark Lord...

...it'll be straight to the gallows
for all of us.

Ms. Wardwell.

What can I do for you, Sabrina?

Actually, I wanted to check in on you,
on how you're doing.

Well, I cannot account
for the last three months of my life,

but clearly, I've been busy doing things,

and the doctors can offer no medical
or logical explanation.

And, uh, your sudden interest
in Dante's Inferno?

Well, now that I can account for.

I have been having nightmares, you see.

Demons and hellscapes,

and I've turned to inferno literature
as a source of...

therapy, I suppose.

They say he went there, you know, Dante.

How could that be possible?

Some of the world's greatest artists
have used Hell as their subject

in such an authentic way
it feels as if they...

they somehow must have visited the place.

Hieronymus Bosch, for instance.

His paintings have been described
as windows overlooking the hills of Hell.

Windows?

Ms. Wardwell, you're a genius,
and I'm so glad you're back.

It is you, right?

Who else would I be?

Dorian?

Dorian Gray.

- I need your help.
- Don't look at me. I'm hideous!

What? What happened?

I have a...

a pimple.

I haven't had a pimple
since Basil painted my portrait.

Actually, that's why I came to see you.

You're an art collector, right?

Do you have any paintings of Hell?

Several. Doesn't everyone?

Yes, but are any of them... a portal?

You think you can just pop into Hell
for a quick visit and save darling Nicky?

Well, doesn't quite work like that.

Once you're in Hell, no one is
particularly inclined to let you leave.

And, yes, I do have a...

portal, which I will allow you to use
for a price.

I want you to bring something back for me.

Let me guess, your soul?

No.

I have no use for that.

There is only one flower
that grows in Hell,

in the Forest of Torment.

La Fleur du Mal.

It is the original flower of evil
that inspired the poet Baudelaire.

Its nectar could help me with my...

facial deformity.

Bring it back for me,

and I'll arrange safe passage for you.

Done.

Although it's not just gonna be
safe passage for me.

♪ Oh, my little pretty one
Pretty one ♪

♪ When you gonna gimme
Some time, Sharona ♪

♪ Ooh, you make my motor run ♪

♪ My motor run ♪

♪ Got it coming off of the line, Sharona ♪

♪ Never gonna stop, give it up
Such a dirty mind ♪

♪ I always get it up
For the touch of the younger kind ♪

♪ My, my, my, aye-aye, whoa! ♪

♪ M-m-m-my Sharona ♪

Guys!

- Sabrina?
- You guys, I figured it out.

It's time for Operation Hand Basket.

- Hang on, you mean...
- We're going to Hell?

- Like, Hell Hell?
- Yep. I found a back door.

I gotta ask the question,
are humans even allowed in Hell?

Well, technically, no,
but there are ways around that.

Things we can do to prepare.

If you're still willing to help.

Let's rock 'n' roll.

- Are your aunts home?
- No.

They're staying at the Academy,
so timing's perfect.

What is this stuff again?

Ghastly water.

Basically water you get
from wiping down corpses.

Eww.

And we're doing this why?

It'll keep the demons from smelling us.

We have to wear these shoes too.

Dead people's shoes,

for only the dead
may walk the paths of Hell.

Okay.

I'm sorry, Salem,
you're gonna have to sit this one out.

If you came with us, you'd have
every hound of Hell from Barghest

to Old Shuck chasing us down.

Lights out, students.

Time to say our prayers.

Oh, Unholy Dark Lord,

take my soul and do with it as thou wilt,

as I will do with my flesh on Earth.

Praise Satan.

Praise Satan.

I find myself in a quandary, sister...

Hmm?

Praying to the Dark Lord
who wished our enslavement,

whom we unseated.

- This lie unsettles me.
- Oh.

I know.

Why don't we tell the students
the truth then?

I mean, why don't we pray to Lilith now?

No, I can't do it.

The students have already lost
their family, their friends.

I can't very well take their god
from them too.

Besides, we have more earthly concerns.

What, the Council visit you mean?

Yeah, don't worry about that, Zelds.
Got the perfect recipe for them.

Just wait.

Behold, the hellscape.

Mind you,
the inferno is a lonely, desolate place.

You might not see many monsters or demons,
but they're there.

Find your way to the City of Pandemonium
as quickly as possible.

And don't forget,

the incantation I gave you
to transport you back...

it won't work
unless you're holding my flower.

I love you guys.

Also, everybody stay close.

Through me, pass into the unholy kingdom.

Through me, pass into the city of fear.

I am the gate for the lost and forsaken.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

- Everyone okay?
- Yeah.

Wait. So, Hell is a beach?

The Shores of Sorrow.

Guys, look.

What are those?

They're the souls of the damned.

They drown as the tide rolls in,

over and over...

for all eternity.

Hi.

We're looking for Lilith.

Uh...

Madam Satan, Queen of Hell.

She's in Pandemonium,
if you happen to know the way.

All blood flows to Pandemonium.

Follow the blood-red road where it flows,
and there you'll find the throne of Hell.

Thanks.

And you are?

Never step off the road.

It's clever you're wearing
dead men's shoes, though...

any demon worth his salt
can smell mortal flesh a mile away.

Come on.

Let's go.

So it's a friend's flat,

but she lets me stay here
while I'm on holiday.

It isn't much, but...

No, no, this is fine, Ms. Dubois.

More than fine.

Now, I know it's early and we just met,
Mr. Wood, but fancy a drink?

Please.

What's your pleasure?

Scotch...

with ice.

I'm sorry, Father.

We're all out of ice.

You have led us on quite the merry chase
around the world.

You scoundrel.

Where are they? Where have you hidden
my brother and sister?

If you k*ll me, they'll never be found.

Quite the contrary.

We can easily extract that information
from your corpse using necromancy.

My dearest Prudence,
please, you're my daughter.

I love you.

I forgive you this trespass.

What a pitiful waste the two of you are.

You'll never find him.

He's your superior in all ways.

Sweet Satan.

One of Blackwood's Judas boys
wearing a glamour.

Then he deserved death,
as my hated father does.

We keep using the same tricks
against each other.

Don't look. Nobody look. Just keep moving.

Wait, is that...

Uncle Jesse?

- Uncle Jesse.
- No, don't!

No, Theo, come back.
We can't stray off the road!

Screw it.

Uncle Jesse,

how did...
how did you get here?

You don't belong here.

This isn't right.

Susie?

What happened to you, Uncle Jesse?

- She sent me here.
- Who did?

Lilith.

Lilith did?

Madam Satan did?

Sabrina, isn't there something you can do?
Some spell you can cast?

Qui affecto protego, mixtisque iubas
serpentibus et posteris meis stirpique.

There.

No one will hurt him before we're back.

Thank you.

I'll stay behind, just to be sure.

Theo, believe me, I know this is horrible,

but our best chance
at getting your uncle out of here

depends on us reaching Pandemonium,

and the only way we'll get there
is if we stick together.

I swear I will free him of this place.

Okay?

What's this now?

Child of the Morningstar is here
in our realm?

Yes, mistress,
following the blood-red road.

Oh.

I'm not surprised.

It was only a matter of time.

Suppose she's come for you, hasn't she?

What was that? Speak up.

Cat got your tongue?

Oh, no, that's right, I've got it.

If she's following the blood-red road,

she'll pass through
the Forest of Torment next.

Tell me minion,

is the woodsman well-oiled?

How do I look, sister?

Oh,
like a Daphne du Maurier novel.

How do I look?

You'll pass,
but careful you don't forget his voice.

What's that cake?

This is a yummy honey cake.
It's meant to influence the Council.

See, we're feeding them a story
that everything's hunky-dory, right?

Well, this moist treat
will sweeten up our tale

so that the whole thing goes down
a bit easier.

Let's hope your kitchen magick
is sufficient, sister.

Oh.

I'll never get that image
out of my brain.

Those birds...

Those birds were eating him, 'Brina.

Eating him alive.

'Brina, what did you say
that forest was called?

The Forest of Torment.

Okay, well...

...I think we're in it.

Listen to the trees.

According to Dorian,
the flower of evil, there's only one,

grows somewhere around here.

I can't believe
I'm suggesting this.

But what if Sabrina and I look
on this side of the forest,

and Harvey and Theo look on that side?

And, guys,
don't make any loud noises, okay?

I have a feeling
the ghastly water's worn off

and not gonna do much to keep us hidden
from demons at this point.

Roz, do you hear that?

It's like singing.

Harvey, did you hear that?

Hear what?

Sounds like chopping.

Harvey?

Stay frosty, Theo.

That's it.

The flower of evil.

It has to be.

Is the flower really singing?

It's like something out of a fairy tale.

Roz, wait.

We have to be careful
the thorns don't prick us.

Why, what happens if they prick us?

If they break our skin,
we go to sleep and never wake up.

Oh.

Holy sh*t.

- Theo, go!
- What about you?

Just go! Get to Sabrina!
We need her magick!

Theo?

There's a crazy tin man
trying to k*ll Harvey.

- Huh?
- What?

Hey!

Salt of earth and salt of ocean,
I call on you to stop his motion.

Iron seize and joints grasp,
mortis in a rusting grasp.

Harv?

Harvey?

Tommy?

Why did you k*ll me?

I... I had to, Tommy.

- What are you doing here?
- I'm waiting for you to join me.

I'm sorry, Harvey,

but that wasn't your brother.

Come on. Come on.

It's okay.

It's okay.

What's that, you say?

They escaped the woodsman, did they?

Yes, mistress.

Well, then, it's time
someone teaches these brats a lesson.

Yes.

A couple of old friends
should do the trick.

These last few weeks,
no matter how close we come to him,

my father always manages to elude us.

As insane as your father is,
he is a master of the mystic arts,

and we were merely his students.

Everything we know about witchcraft,

he taught us.

Therefore, it reasons we can never surpass
nor catch up to him.

What if we used
another type of witchcraft?

One he didn't teach us.

How do you mean?

This place is a laugh.

Are you sure you want to do this?

Excuse me?

We'd like to do a reading.

Do you want tarot,
tea leaves, or chicken feet?

No, that's for tourists. Um...

We want the real New Orleans
hoodoo vodou magic.

Delighted.

I am Mambo
Michele Marie Le Fleur...

Priestess of High Haiti,

daughter of the Tiano people,

faithful to Guinee...

and I don't do none of this watered-down
New Orleans vodou hoodoo bullshit.

This is a Haitian house...

Do you understand?

Yes, yes.

Uh-huh.

And the vodou practice in this house...

dear...

is a way of life.

You are witches.

New England witches, hey?

What is it you seek?

Not a what, a who.

Hmm.

A man, betrayer, a m*rder*r.

Someone who could be
anywhere in the world,

if not another dimension.

You will need a world map...

and something of this man...

hair, clothes, a photo.

His blood?

Well, I do have his blood inside me.

That will do.

It was Tommy's voice,
exactly, Roz,

and his face.

I know, babe.

But I'm with Sabrina.
That wasn't your brother, okay.

It's this place.

- It messes with you.
- I shouldn't have come here.

Um...

guys?

We are never going to get to Pandemonium.

We should go.

Right the heaven now.

Go?

No, I'm afraid not, Miss Spellman.

Principal Hawthorne?

Silent, class, and take your seats,

because school is in...

session!

'Brina?

Here I sit, a humble beseecher,
rid us of this infernal teacher!

Oh, Miss Spellman.

No.

There will be no spell casting either.

Now, today,
we have a special surprise guest.

One of you may know her as...

Grandma?

Child, you were the death of me,

and now I'm gonna be the death of you.

What? Why?

Because your daddy is a preacher
and you're in Hell, that's why.

You have the gift of the cunning,

and you wasted it helping witches.

You know what?

I was going to ask for a volunteer to help
with today's little anatomy lesson,

but now I believe we'll start
with Miss Walker.

Your Majestic Malevolence,

I'm afraid the Three Kings of Hell
have returned.

Tell the kings

we will not have our sovereignty
challenged by them again.

I understand, Your Viciousness,

but they brought the hordes of Hell
with them this time.

So we must suffer the indignity
of these would-be usurpers

questioning our right to the throne,

while Sabrina Morningstar
invades our kingdom,

no doubt to claim our favorite pet.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

But of course.

Tell the kings we will receive them
before the day is out,

but first bring me Sabrina,
safe and alive, please.

And her traveling companions?

Well, if they're alive,
she will have more to lose,

but in truth,
we are indifferent to their fate.

Perhaps I can k*ll two Stymphalian birds
with one stone.

It's honey cake. Homemade.

You may deliver unto me a large slice,
Lady Blackwood.

Fathers, Council members,
please do forgive me.

Um... where were we?

We were discussing
your conspicuous absence

from last month's intercoven meeting.

The Council meeting.

Uh...

Yeah, yes, I remember now.

I had a dodgy curry the night before.

Constitution's not what it used to be,
I'm afraid.

Well, darling of you to stop by.

There is one other point of order,
Faustus.

Some of the members
of the wider Council, not us,

not anyone here,

have reported
an ever so slight loss of potency.

Virility. Power, one might say.

Faustus, have you, too,
experienced such symptoms?

Um...

I can't say that I have.

Though if I might suggest,

perhaps you should pray
to the Dark Lord for guidance.

Have you...

prayed recently?

We are in constant commune
with our Dark Lord.

I myself spoke with him directly
just this very morning.

And, um, did the Dark Lord answer?

Of course he did.

And did you hear them,

their bald-faced lies
about communing with the Dark Lord?

What poppycock. Every single one of them.

Hypocrites and charlatans,
blatant mendacity.

If I'm to rebuild this coven
from the ground up,

then we must tell our flock the truth.

So... what, even about the Dark Lord?

Well, some version of the truth, at least.

Oh, no.

Please. Please. Please.

Nana Ruth, please don't do this!

Principal Hawthorne,
if you hurt her, I swear to God...

God?

You are in high school in Hell.

There is no God here.

Let's just do him next.

No!

Please!

Excuse me, Your Flatulences.

The Queen requests the pleasure
of the children's company.

But she...
she sent for us to t*rture them.

It is our Queen's prerogative
to change her mind.

Shall we, children?

Tonight, children, we will be saying
our evening prayers to...

someone different.

Hail Lilith, full of disgrace,

cursed are you amongst women.

And cursed is the fruit of thy womb.

Demons, you fled the garden,

where the weak ones dwelled
and did not live in shame.

Unholy Lilith, mother of night,

pray for us sinners now
and at the witching hour of our death.

Praise Madam Satan.

Praise Madam Satan.

Praise Madam Satan.

Praise Madam Satan!

Did you hear that?

They're praying...

to me.

Queen Lilith, your visitors have arrived.

Sabrina,

how wonderful, you come to visit.

You brought your little chums.

You know why I'm here.

Oh, you mean young Nicholas Scratch?

- Mm-hmm.
- Yeah, he's... he's right over there.

- Nick!
- Uh-uh!

No, no.

There's plenty of time
for tearful reunions after dinner.

There are certain protocols
that must be followed,

even in Hell.

What's happening?
What's happening to him...

- on the inside?
- Of himself?

Well, I'm sure he and the Dark Lord

are having all sorts
of fascinating conversations

within that handsome
little slab of a flesh Acheron.

Now come along, the lot of you.

Yield!

Yield, curse you!

Never! You'll never escape.

Please, sit, eat.

Refresh yourselves.

Don't eat that turkey leg.

- How come?
- Trust me.

It's not edible.

None of the food is edible.

I have a question.

Why do you still look like Ms. Wardwell?

Well, I grew comfortable wearing her skin,

and a face like this, it's hard to b*at.

Do you wanna see my real one?

I mean, my... green one?

No. No, what I want is Nick outta here.

- And Jesse Putnam's soul.
- And Jesse Putnam too.

And I'm not even gonna ask
if you're responsible for him being here,

because who else would it be?

I'll look into this for you.
Jesse Putnam, is it?

But, my dear, aren't you forgetting...

Nicholas Scratch has the Devil inside him?

I'll find a different prison
for my father.

All right.

You can have him.

On one condition.

Which is?

The hierarchy of Hell has been
in the tiniest state of turmoil.

Lately, the Infernal Kings
refuse to recognize my authority

because I'm not a Morningstar.

But it would calm the dark waters
if you simply...

crowned me Queen of Hell.

I already did that. You're wearing it.

Yeah, well, I need you to do it again.
Here.

Publicly, to make me legitimate
in their eyes.

- And then I get Nick back?
- Absolutely.

Fine.

I'll do it.

But no tricks.

Excellent.

Now, who has room for dessert?

Oh, don't get distracted now.

We still have work to do.

A bit of sex magic to enhance the mood?

This? This isn't sex magic.
It's blood magic, remember?

I have Mambo Marie's Kn*fe.

Scotland?

Loch Ness, to be exact.

Then that's where we're going
to k*ll my father.

Infernal Court, I bid you welcome.

Hail the kings.

The City of Pandemonium
has an honored guest.

May I present to the hordes,
Sabrina Morningstar,

daughter of Lucifer Morningstar.

In his absence, she has come
to officially declare me Queen of Hell.

- What? No.
- Isn't that right, Sabrina?

Yes, that's right.

This is treason! Heresy.

Lilith is a concubine, not a queen.

We do not recognize her.

She was Lucifer's whore.

The realms are in chaos, and the Earth,
the pit, the heavens, the cosmos,

they all reject Lilith's claim
to the throne.

And who do you propose would rule?

Ahh.

All hail Caliban, Prince of Hell.

Molded from the clay of the pit itself.

Native son of the inferno,

born to restore and rule our dark domain.

Hello again.

Uh...

Hi?

What is this?

This is salvation.

Since the Dark Lord's desertion,

the Nine Circles of Hell
have been breaking down.

I, Caliban, will restore stability
and do what Lucifer failed to do...

conquer the Earth.

Remake it as our tenth circle

and enslave the tribes
of mortal and witch.

Tenth?

Isn't nine circles enough?

This is a coup d'état.
We'll lose everything.

Come to me, Sabrina.

Lucifer.

Ah.

My darling daughter.

What a disappointment you are.

Back at you. Where's Nick?

You betrayed me.

For that, your suffering
shall be legendary, even for Hell.

- But you have a crown to claim.
- I don't want it. I never wanted it.

All I want right now is my boyfriend back.

Have you no pride, girl?

This so-called Prince Caliban
is made of dirt.

You have royal blood in your veins.

Only you can restore the balance in Hell.

I don't care about Hell.

But you should.

When the balance is off in Hell,
so it is off in Heaven,

so it is off on Earth.

It's basic cosmology:
to preserve one realm,

you must preserve them all.

And already the chaos
your failed abdication has provoked

threatens your precious Greendale.

What are you talking about? What threats?

The old ones are coming.

Should be rolling in any minute now.

You're lying, again.

I do lie, and often, but not about this.

Nor am I lying when I tell you
that only a true queen has the authority,

the power, to liberate Nicholas Scratch
from this realm.

And the kings will never declare
Lilith queen,

no matter what you say or do.

So if you want him back...

Don't do it, Sabrina.

Nick. Oh, Nick.

Don't do it. It's what he wants.

- Nick.
- Forget this place.

Forget about me.

If my being queen is the only way
to get you out of Hell...

- I don't matter.
- I miss you.

I miss you so much,
every second of every day.

Sabrina...

you're the reason
I'm still sane and alive,

but you have to forget me.

- You have to move on.
- I won't.

I can't.

I love you, Nick.

I love you too, Sabrina.

All right, that's enough.
You know what must be done, Sabrina.

Claim the throne, embrace your destiny,

and save your boyfriend,
or say goodbye to him forever.

This is a coup d'état.

We'll lose everything.

No, we won't.

I am Sabrina Morningstar,

and that throne is mine
by blood and by birth.

Here we go again.

Yours to give me, you mean.

No...

mine...

to claim.

We do not accept this.

The witch lives on Earth.
She cannot possibly rule Hell.

You've obviously never been
to high school.

You are a child, not a queen.

I am a young woman.

You cannot fulfill your father's duties.

I can.

- With Lilith as my advisor.
- What?

Isn't that what kings and queens do
when they're too young to rule?

They appoint a...

Regent.

Yes, as a matter of fact, yes.

Then you, Lilith, are my regent.

I dispute this.

Dispute this on what grounds?

Monarchs rule by divine rights.

The daughter of the Morningstar
is half-mortal, not divine at all.

If she wants the crown,

she's going to have to
prove herself worthy.

Infernal law states any king or queen
may be challenged by their courts.

I, Caliban, Prince of Hell...

A king or queen may be challenged,
it's true,

but a certain number of signatures
are to be required.

In other words, back the heaven off...

unless you want even more instability
in the realm?

The infernal crown will crush you.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

In the meantime,
as queen, here's my first decree.

This Infernal Court is dismissed.

You can all leave now.

- Go!
- So sayeth the Queen.

That was awesome.

Indeed.

But let me give you a tip.

A real queen refers to herself
with the pluralis majestatis,

the royal we.

In that case, we are ready
to bring Nick back to Greendale now.

- Sabrina?
- And Jesse Putnam, don't forget.

There.

His soul is free,
already rushing towards the heavens.

You'll have to teach me how to do that.

And a great many other things
if you're to survive.

This gambit of yours
has bought you some time,

but we both know you don't really want
your father's throne.

And neither the kings nor their golden boy
desire you to have it.

They will challenge you for it.

And I'll decide whether or not
I wanna defend it.

But not right now.

Right now, all I want is to go home.

Can I do that with my friends
and with Nick?

And his tongue.

You're queen.

You can do whatever you want.

Assuming you have a way to get home.

I do.

I have a flower and the magic words.

Ibi locum non sicut domum.

Ibi locum non sicut domum.

Ibi locum non sicut domum.

Ibi locum non sicut domum.

Ibi locum non sicut domum.

Ibi locum non sicut domum.

Ibi locum non sicut domum.

Welcome back.

Now where the devil is my flower?

It got a little crumpled.

You don't think anyone
will find him down here?

My aunties may have re-opened the Academy,
but they'd never re-open the dungeons.

What if he escapes?

His chains are forged from Damascus steel,
and he's in a circle of salt,

and I'll keep calming candles burning
'round the clock.

So what happens next?

We get my father out of Nick
and into some other body.

No, I meant with you,
now that you're, you know...

the Queen of Hell.

Well, that was to bring Nick back.

I mean, I'm obviously not moving to Hell.

'Brina, the fact that you just said that
makes me think...

- you're moving to Hell.
- I'm not.

I'm not moving to Hell.

I mean, I may have to play the part
for a little while, but...

my heart's not hellbound.

It's with you guys,

and Nick, and the Academy,

and Baxter High.

In fact, if you're still signing up
for cheerleading, Roz, count me in.

- Seriously?
- Most definitely.

Even though I'm totally not
the Queen of Hell,

a friend once told me
it can't be all hell, all the time.

To Sabrina Spellman.

Cheerleader by day,

Queen of Hell by night.

Guys, what was that?

Nothing. Just the wind.

The old ones are coming.

Should be rolling in any minute now.

Greg, move your head!