Chapter 113 Chapter 113

Chapter 113 Chapter 113
The humans felt it too. They called it balance, peace, or sometimes just luck. But I knew better. That was her hand on the scales. And I couldn’t help but smile. “Good girl.” For the first time in centuries, Hell didn’t feel like punishment. It felt like a reflection. Maybe that was the real rebellion: learning to love what came after the fire.
Later, I walked the lower dominions, past the old prisons and the rivers of regret. The demons bowed as I passed, some in fear, some in reverence. One of the younger ones, barely formed from ash, dared to ask, “My Lord… will the Queen return?” I stopped, glancing down at him. His eyes burned a faint crimson, curious, not defiant.
“Maybe,” I said. “But not the way you think.” He frowned. “She brings order?”
“No,” I said with a smirk. “She brings truth. You’ll see the difference.”

The demon nodded uncertainly, backing away. I watched him go and couldn’t help laughing to myself. Even in Hell, they were still trying to make sense of her. They’d spend eternity doing it. Good. Let her be a legend. Let her name make them think twice before spilling more blood. Maybe fear would finally teach them restraint.
As I reached the lowest chamber, the heart of the inferno, I stopped at the old mirror of obsidian, the one that showed glimpses of Earth. Her reflection shimmered faintly across it, walking beside Azrael through a garden that looked untouched by any realm’s hand.

For a moment, I almost stepped through. Almost. But then I saw her smile, and I knew I didn’t need to. She didn’t need saving anymore. She never did.
“Take care of her, reaper,” I muttered. “Or I’ll come collect your wings myself.” The mirror flickered once, as if it heard me. I turned away, wings flaring, and walked back toward the throne. The firelight followed, crawling up the walls like it wanted to chase me. Let it burn. Let it remember her. Hell didn’t belong to me anymore. It belonged to the idea she left behind. And for the first time since the fall, I was fine with that.

Azrael

The sanctuary was calm that morning. The air smelled like wet earth and new grass, and the sunlight broke through the trees in soft streaks. It wasn’t Heaven’s light, perfect and endless, or Hell’s fire, wild and heavy. It was simple. Real. I stood at the edge of the lake, the water still as glass. Geminia was already there, her hair loose, her coat brushing her boots as she looked over the horizon. The wind carried bits of her power, faint sparks that glowed red-gold in the air. Every time she breathed, the world seemed to shift a little to match her rhythm. “They’re close,” she said, without looking at me. “How do you know?” She smiled a little. “Michael’s energy never hides. He wants people to feel him coming.” I chuckled. “Old habits.”

Before I could say more, the air shimmered, and light tore across the clearing bright enough to sting my eyes. One by one, they appeared. Michael first, steady and certain, his wings spread wide. Gabriel right behind him, casual as ever, like he’d wandered in by accident. Then Azya and Daya, their grace flowing in twin waves, and Baltazaar last, a shadow among light, heat clinging to him like smoke.

For a moment, none of us spoke. They looked around like they were seeing something sacred. The sanctuary wasn’t just a hiding place anymore; it was a living thing, born from what they’d built together. A piece of both realms, held together by something stronger than any divine decree.
Michael broke the silence first. “You’ve done well,” he said quietly. Geminia turned, her expression calm but proud. “We’ve done well.”He gave a small nod, the faintest trace of a smile in his eyes. That was as close as Michael got to affection. Gabriel stepped forward and whistled softly. “Well, this is cozy. Anyone else feel like we need wine and bad music?” Daya snorted, elbowing him. “You’re impossible.”
“Consistent,” he corrected.

Even Azya cracked a small smile. The tension eased. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this the bickering, the comfort, the way they all somehow made chaos feel like home. Baltazaar’s voice cut through the laughter. “It’s been a long time since we were all in one place.”
“Too long,” Geminia said. “I wasn’t sure it would ever happen again.”

“It almost didn’t,” Michael admitted. “Heaven’s… quieter now. Angels ask fewer questions. Maybe they finally learned that silence can be mercy.” Gabriel crossed his arms. “Or they’re scared.”
“Fear can be useful,” Baltazaar said.

“Spoken like a demon,” Gabriel muttered. Baltazaar smirked. “Spoken like someone who’s learned the value of consequence.” Their old rhythm was back, light and dark trading words like blades. But it wasn’t war anymore. It was balanced. Geminia moved closer to the lake. The water glowed faintly under her feet, mirroring her flame. “I didn’t call you here to talk about the past,” she said. “I just wanted you to see it. What we made.” Michael’s gaze followed hers across the lake. “A world that belongs to neither Heaven nor Hell.”

“A world that belongs to itself,” she said. Gabriel whistled again, softer this time. “You sound like Him when you say things like that.”Her eyes flicked up. “Maybe He was right about some things. Maybe we just twisted His words too far.” None of us replied. Some truths didn’t need answers.After a while, Daya stepped forward. “Humans talk about you, you know.” Geminia blinked. “What?”
“On Earth,” Daya said. “They whisper about the flame that burned the sky and rebuilt the ground. They call you Anarchy.”

She let out a quiet laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course they do.”
“They don’t worship you,” Azya added quickly. “They just remember.”
“That’s worse,” Geminia said. “Worship fades. Memory lingers.” I reached for her hand. “Let them remember, then. Maybe this time, the story won’t end in blood.”
She looked up at me, and the edge in her eyes softened. “You always were the optimist.”

“Someone has to balance you.” Baltazaar huffed a laugh. “He’s braver than I am.” That made her grin. “You’re learning.”
For a while, we all stood there, just breathing in the quiet. The world was different now. The weight that used to hang over us was gone. Heaven wasn’t watching. Hell wasn’t waiting. For the first time in forever, there was no plan. No prophecy, Just choice. Michael finally spoke again. “You know He hasn’t interfered. Not once since you rebuilt the veil.”

“I noticed,” she said.
“I think He’s done,” he continued. “The Creator created. Maybe it’s our turn now.”
“That’s what scared Him most,” I said. “The idea that His children could create something He didn’t design.” Gabriel smiled faintly. “And yet, here we are.”Baltazaar nodded. “Not angels. Not demons. Just… something new.” Azya looked toward the horizon. “And what do we do with it?”
“Live,” Geminia said simply. “Just live.”