"Don't worry," says a deep voice. It's speaking Infernal. "You aren't in Hell. Except, I suppose, insofar as Hell is wherever I am."

Abrogail can't see the source of the voice. She can't see anything—well, she could see her hooves in front of her face, if she put them there; it isn't dark. There's just nothing to see.

The obvious inference about the identity of this person is overwhelmed by panicked speculation about whether getting values-inverted invalidates her contract with Asmodeus. It—might? No one considers Zon-Kuthon to be the same god as Dou-Bral.

Then, of course, she remembers the past—however long it's been—of her subjective experience, and realizes that this is probably still just Discord messing with her. Not really worth getting her magic back, especially seeing as she doesn't currently seem able to use magic.

Something like a spotlight illuminating happens, and Discord's petrified form is visible nearby.

"Discord is right here," says the voice. "He was never even unpetrified. For a being of supposedly eldritch power, he's surprisingly easy to imitate. All one has to do is say a bunch of stuff that makes absolutely no sense."

Given that, if this isn't Discord, it's Mephistopheles, she has no reason to believe that—and if it is Mephistopheles, she'll never know one way or the other.

"What do you want?" she asks.

Another spotlight illuminates, and it's revealed that the source of the voice does at least resemble an archdevil.

"I'm not Discord," says Mephistopheles. "I swear it. Normally, you'd be right, I'd never tell you. But this will be very tedious if you don't think it's real."

That's still not information, but she understands now that she is instructed to believe it.

"I came here," says the maybe-archdevil, "to offer you a way not to go to Hell."

She's not enough of an idiot to actually believe that, but—"How?"

"Asmodeus may rule Hell, but I am Hell. Should He default on his obligations to the other gods, His rule will end. The demise of prophecy on Golarion has made certain of these obligations much more taxing than He ever expected them to be when He agreed to them."

She's almost tempted to believe that; it makes sense of so much that's otherwise bizarre: the absurd amount that Hell (well, Asmodeus) was willing to spend on the defense of Cheliax, the strange way Aspexia was acting when they got here—she believed Mephistopheles had already won and she was in His Hell, didn't she? He probably would torment His rival's high priestess by making her believe she was in some twisted version of Nirvana.

"The fall of Cheliax has already pushed Asmodeus dangerously close to default. If you can disrupt His remaining operations on Golarion sufficiently to cause Him to actually cede Hell, I will ensure that, if you do come into My possession, you will be permitted to leave—or, if you prefer, be made a greater devil with your memories and personality intact and the minimum possible amount of suffering."

There are a couple of problems with that. (Well, it's Mephistopheles, so obviously there are problems. But there are a couple of obvious problems.)

"One, you can't offer that. My soul is owned by Asmodeus directly, as Aspexia so very specifically pointed out to me." Apparently she anticipated this situation.

"Two, I don't want to be a greater devil. I want Hell to stop torturing people."

He laughs. "Oh, right, you're Chaotic Good now. An unintended side effect of what I had to do to get you to this point." (It was actually the whole point of freeing Discord.) "That's a rather more expensive request than one soul, but perhaps there's something I can do." (It's actually quite cheap, up to a point; some changes He planned to make anyway, and others He's already sold to other allies.)

"As for your prior obligations, you really have no idea how full of holes every contract comprehensible by mortals is. I'll tell you how to get out of it, as part of our deal."

"And three, You are the god of deceptive compacts. I'm not agreeing to anything until I've talked this over with a lawyer." Assuming she can afford* one willing to offer advice on dealing with Mephistopheles other than 'don't'.

(*) Wait, she has infinite diamonds. Nevermind.

"That's permissible in theory," He says. "Even for Me, this game isn't really any fun when it's this mismatched. What isn't permissible is for Iomedae to find out about any of this. You may, if you wish, appoint one Lawful Evil outsider of your choice, appropriately sworn to secrecy, as your attorney; you will not otherwise be able to speak of your dealings with Me at all. I cast the Geas before you ever regained consciousness."

Luckily she does know one Lawful Evil outsider that Mephistopheles probably doesn't, that she probably can trust to look out for her interests (at least insofar as she has any idea what those are right now)—

"You know, I am reading your mind," He says. "I'll allow it. It's cheating, but I am, after all, the god of that."

"One last question: what obligations of Asmodeus, exactly, are You referring to?"

"Monitoring Golarion for Rovagug's escape," He says, and kicks her out of the mindscape.

Um.

Was that real? If it was, it's probably the most important thing that's ever happened. Unfortunately Mephistopheles is constitutionally incapable of not leaving people hopelessly confused about the nature of reality. If that even was Mephistopheles, though the fact that she isn't sure is actually evidence in favor.

Well...she should probably...figure out what happened to Twilight and her friends? And Discord. Containing one of the epistemic horror entities might help her confusion a little bit.

"There she is!"

Twilight and party, as it happens, are rounding a corner in the hedge maze, approaching the spot where Abrogail is laying on the ground.

"Stay back," warns Twilight. "She used to be very bad. Discord could have made her even worse."

The ponies start to get into formation.

"No—wait—"

Obviously that's just what an evil Abrogail would say, and it's not like this will hurt her on her path to redemption.

FRIENDSHIP