Chapter 65 Still Mine
“Mi like it so much,” Leitana said again, words tumbling out as they stepped out of the building into the late afternoon light.
Her eyes were bright, cheeks flushed with excitement. “Di teacher, Dr. Markov—she so nice! An’ di way she talk ‘bout music… like it alive. An’ di other students, dey listen to mi small hymn an’ clap like it good. Mi no believe it!”
Ravial opened the car door for her.
She slid in, still talking, hands waving.
“An’ di piano dere, big an’ black an’ shiny. Sound so rich. Mi fingers feel different on di keys. Like dey know more now.”
He reached across, buckling her seatbelt with calm precision.
She didn’t even pause.
“Mi nervous at first, yu know? Everybody look at mi. But den when mi play… everything go quiet inside mi head. Jus’ music.”
He closed her door, walked around, and slid into the driver’s seat.
The engine purred to life.
Leitana turned to him, eyes shining.
“Yu hear when dat one boy play di fast piece? Like water running! Mi want learn dat one day. An’ Dr. Markov say mi hand good for piano. Mi never think anybody say dat to mi.”
She reached out, fingers brushing his arm, light and excited.
“Tank yu, Ravial. Real tank yu. Mi feel… mi feel like mi flying.”
Her laugh spilled out, soft, breathless, full of wonder.
Ravial’s hands rested on the wheel.
He didn’t speak much, just the occasional low hum of acknowledgment.
But he listened.
Every word.
Every rise and fall of her voice.
His gaze flicked to her often, quick, subtle.
Her face glowed.
Animated.
Alive.
Something shifted in his chest, small, unfamiliar, but undeniable.
Not warmth exactly.
Not happiness as humans defined it.
But satisfaction.
Deep.
Quiet.
Seeing her like this, vibrant, unguarded, his, stirred the obsession sharper.
He preferred her this way.
Always this way.
And he would ensure nothing dimmed it.
Ever.
Leitana practically jumped out of the car the moment it stopped, barely waiting for Ravial to finish unbuckling her seatbelt.
Her excitement bubbled over, she was already halfway out the door, Avery’s name on her lips.
“Avery!...”
A strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back firmly.
She whirled around with a soft thump against his chest, a surprised breath escaping her.
She looked up at him, eyes wide.
“Wat happen, Ravial?” she asked, tilting her head to the side like a curious bird.
He gazed down at her, expression calm as ever.
His hand lifted, slowly pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
His fingers lingered, tracing the shell of it until the skin turned pink under his touch.
“So eager to leave me,” he murmured, voice low and smooth. “Running off without a proper goodbye.”
Her cheeks flamed hotter.
“No, not like dat, Ravial,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Mi jus’ wan tell mi sister ‘bout di school an’ class…”
He leaned closer, thumb brushing her lower lip.
“You’ll tell her later,” he said. “Right now… you’re still mine.”
Her breath hitched.
“Yu always say tings like dat,” she whispered, flustered. “Make mi heart go fast.”
A faint curve touched his lips.
“Good.”
He dipped his head, lips grazing her ear.
“I like you breathless,” he said softly. “I like you thinking of me.”
Her face burned scarlet.
She ducked her head, but couldn’t hide the shy smile.
He released her waist, stepping back.
“Go,” he said. “Find your sister.”
Leitana nodded, turning to leave.
Then paused.
She rose on her toes, one small hand on his shoulder for balance, and pressed a quick, soft peck to his cheek.
His eyes widened just a fraction. A flicker.
Before he could react, she darted away, laughter trailing behind her.
“Avery! Rosa! Clara! Yu no go believe!”
She disappeared into the house, voice echoing joyfully.
Ravial stood motionless for a moment.
His fingers lifted slowly, touching the spot on his cheek where her lips had been.
Warm.
Brief.
Unexpected.
He stared after her retreating figure, head tilted slightly.
Then….
“My Lord.”
Lucius appeared at his side, silent as shadow.
Ravial didn’t turn.
“There is something you need to see.”
The warmth on his cheek faded.
His expression smoothed back to stone.
“Show me.”
Ravial stepped through the rift into the underworld, Lucius at his side. The chamber was vast, obsidian walls veined with crimson, lit by the dim glow of captive stars. No roaring fires or tortured souls—just ordered silence, broken only by the low hum of infernal energy.
Their true forms emerged: Lucifer’s golden wings, tarnished at the edges, spanned wide; horns of polished ebony curved from his brow. Lucius mirrored him in scale, his wings folded, eyes flickering red.
Before them hung the Golden Tapestry, the barrier between realms. A jagged tear scarred its center, small but growing, darkness leaking like ink through water. Beyond it, faint glimmers of heaven’s layers, the outer gates, the mid-realms, the throne’s distant light, flickered uncertainly.
“This is how we found it, my Lord,” Lucius said, gesturing. “Three nights ago. No breach from our side.”
The surrounding demons, tall, armored figures with shadowed wings, knelt.
One spoke. “Could be decay, Lord. The balance has held for eons, but nothing lasts forever.”
Another shook his head. “No. Heaven’s testing us. They’ve been quiet too long.”
A third muttered. “Or an internal rift. Something pulling from within.”
Lucifer nodded once. “Guard it. No one approaches without my command.”
Lucius bowed. “It will be done.”
Lucifer ’s voice sharpened. “Summon the Seven Princes.”
They arrived swiftly—Azrael, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Mammon, Leviathan, and Abaddon—bowing low in their angelic-fallen forms: wings of varying shades, horns gleaming.
“What news of the tear?” Ravial demanded.
Azrael stepped forward. “No word from heaven. The lower levels are silent; even the mid-realms show no stir.”
Asmodeus crossed his arms. “What if it’s the girl you took? She’s a vessel of God. A light. Messing with that could rip the veil.”
Beelzebub laughed, deep and mocking. “Since when do we fear corrupting God’s children? We’ve broken thousands.”
Leviathan shook his head. “This is different. She’s not just any vessel. She’s marked. The balance shifts when you toy with stars.”
They argued, voices overlapping, speculations rising.
Lucifer raised a hand. Silence fell.
“Stop,” he said calmly. “I am not toying with the lamb. She is mine. The tear is separate.”
The princes exchanged glances—subtle, wary. This was supposed to be simple corruption of a divine star. But his tone… it hinted at more. Something deeper. They couldn’t afford that complication. But none spoke it aloud.
Lucifer continued. “Guard the tear with the legions of the outer void—shadow wraiths and binding seraphs. Investigate every ripple. If heaven caused it, they’ll reveal themselves. If internal… find the source and end it.”
The princes bowed and departed.
He stared at the tear. He couldn’t breach heaven—not without invitation or war. He would wait for the summon. It would come. It always did.
Lucius stepped closer. “The void legions are already deployed, my Lord. Which watchers for the core?”
Lucifer nodded approval.
Then he turned to Lucius, voice low.
“Why did you save her?”
Lucius met his gaze steadily.
“The copy still has a role to play, my Lord. If she dies now, the lamb suffers. And if the lamb suffers… the light dims.”
Lucifer considered.
The tear pulsed faintly behind them.
Perhaps.
Or perhaps the light was the problem.
Time would reveal.
And he had a long time.