Chapter 96 Chapter 96

Chapter 96 Chapter 96
Geminia

We spent hours drafting, whispering strategies between the roaring fire and the hum of power in the walls. He mapped out pathways, listed names of demons who could be bribed or silenced, and taught me how to mask my energy signature long enough to slip through unnoticed. Every time our eyes met, I saw the unspoken truth: he already knew why I was doing this, and he wasn’t going to stop me. By the time the last of the hellfire torches dimmed, the plan was more than half-formed. Dangerous, reckless, but possible.

“Geminia,” he said quietly when I stood to leave. “You understand what happens if they catch you, right? If the Council realizes the Queen of Hell is consorting with Heaven’s angel again…”
“They’ll tear me apart, or try,” I said. “And probably you too.”
He smiled faintly. “Good. Just making sure you’re aware. I don't fancy seeing Anarchy ruling hell or answering to her.”
I stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Baltazaar. I won’t allow her to surface. She…..”

“She is reckless. When you merge and become her, there is no reasoning with you, well, with her. I cannot disobey her orders, and all she focuses on is revenge and rage,” he said.
“I know; that is a last resort.” I said, 
 “I’m not doing this for you.” he replied.
I raised an eyebrow. “No?”

He shook his head. “I’m doing it because I’m tired of watching two people who could burn heaven and hell apart pretend they’re not meant to be together.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You always did have a flair for dramatics.”
“Says the woman who commands firestorms.”
“Fair point,” I said with a smile.

I left the chamber, walking through the quiet corridors as the weight of the crown settled heavier on my head. The plan churned in my mind every step, every risk, every possible failure. But under it all, I felt something I hadn’t in centuries: purpose. Real, reckless, terrifying purpose.
The flames along the walls rose as I passed, recognizing the shift in me. Hell itself knew something was changing.

When I reached my chambers, I paused at the doorway, glancing back toward the throne room. Baltazaar was still there, silhouette outlined by firelight, wings half-spread like a sentinel.
He didn’t look up, but I knew he felt me watching. His voice drifted across the distance, low and certain.
Fix this once and for all, Geminia.”
I smiled, the sound echoing softly through the empty halls. “I will.”

The room was just as I’d left it sprawling, carved from blackstone and flame, the air humming with my own power. I set the crown on the table, its fire dimming as soon as I stepped away. Without it, I felt lighter. Freer. The mirror across the room shimmered faintly, its surface rippling with the reflection of a sky I hadn’t seen since this morning. Blue eyes. Wind. Water. Tomorrow, I’d start preparing. Tomorrow, the Queen of Hell would begin her quiet rebellion.  And somewhere far above, I hoped Azrael could feel it, the first spark of defiance, the whisper that said I was coming back.

Hell never sleeps. Even when it’s quiet, you can feel it breathing hot, restless, and alive. The screams faded into murmurs, the fire sank to embers, but it was never still. Not really.

I stood on the balcony outside my chamber, looking down at the endless sprawl of the lower city. Rivers of molten rock carved glowing paths between the towers. Smoke curled up in lazy ribbons. Somewhere far below, my legions were drilling; I could hear the rhythm of their armor and the clash of blades echoing faintly up the walls.
Every sound reminded me why this was stupid. Queens don’t vanish. Not without war following the disappearance.

And yet here I was, tracing a map onto the back of a piece of parchment with shaking hands, plotting an escape from the one place that already belonged to me.
Baltazaar had left hours ago, but his words still burned in my head. If you’re going to do this, you do it cleanly. Quietly. No one sees you leave.
I sighed and turned away from the view. The crown on my table glowed faintly, a heartbeat of flame pulsing inside it. I hated that it looked alive. I hated that it reminded me of what I was supposed to be doing instead of what I needed to do. A knock came at the door soft and deliberate.
“Enter,” I said.

Baltazaar stepped inside, tall and silent as ever, his dark wings half-folded behind him. He looked more tired than usual, which is saying something for a demon who’s survived six rebellions and three attempted coups.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
I nodded. “Everything’s in place. The guards think I’m in meditation until dawn. The council’s too busy squabbling over territory to notice I’m gone.”
He raised a brow. “And the crown?” he asked
I glanced at it, burning faintly on the table, alive, pulsing with heat. “Let it burn. It’ll keep them busy.”
He smirked. “Are you sure about this, Gem?”
“No,” I admit. “But I’m sure about him.”

For a moment, his expression softened, a flicker of something human beneath the sarcasm. “He’s still in Heaven. If you go after him”
“I’m not going after him,” I cut in. “I’m going to him.”
Baltazaar exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You never do make it easy.”
“Wouldn’t be me if I did.”
He stepped closer, holding out a small vial of shimmering liquid light, half gold, half red. “Here. This will mask your essence for five minutes. Heaven won’t see you, and Hell won’t claim you. You’ll be nothing for a heartbeat, and that’s your window.”
I took it, fingers brushing his. “You’re risking everything.”
He shrugged. “You’re the queen. I’m your soldier. I follow orders, even the unspoken ones.” the said 
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “You’re terrible at pretending you don’t care.”
“I prefer the term ‘selectively loyal,.” he said. 

We moved fast through the lower corridors, places no angel or demon has ever seen, where molten rivers run through cracked stone and the air smells like iron and smoke. Demons patrolled the upper halls, but none dared question us. They knew better.
The tunnels got older as we went deeper, carved before the fall, etched with runes that still hummed with primordial power. The air grew thick, the heat sharper. Finally, the passage opened into a cavern wide enough to hold a city. And there it is. The fissure.

It hovered above the stone like a scar in the air, light bleeding out in slow, pulsing waves. Gold and red, shadow and flame. It was beautiful and terrible all at the same time, like everything worth wanting. Baltazaar studied it, jaw set. “It’s unstable. You’ll have one shot before it collapses again.”
“I only need one,” I said. He looked at me, long and hard. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really.” He grinned faintly. “But I figured I’d ask before you do something reckless.”