Chapter 12 She Defends Her Choice
AZRAETH'S POV
I wake to Mireya screaming.
Not with her voice—through the bond. Terror so intense it yanks me from sleep like a physical blow.
I'm across the safe house in seconds, bursting into her room. She's tangled in blankets, thrashing, her black eyes wide and unseeing.
"Mireya!" I grab her shoulders. "Wake up!"
She gasps, blinking. For a moment, she doesn't recognize me. Then her eyes focus and she collapses forward, pressing her face against my chest.
"The memories," she sobs. "They won't stop. I see her death over and over. Feel the blade going through her—through me. I can't tell what's real anymore."
Morwenna's memories are bleeding through faster now. Soon, they'll consume her completely.
I pull her close, one hand cradling her head. "You're Mireya. Not her. Remember that."
"What if I forget? What if I wake up one day and I'm just Morwenna wearing Mireya's face?"
The fear in her voice cuts deep because I've had the same terror. What if the bond recreates Morwenna exactly, and I lose this sharp-edged, fierce woman who chose me not because of prophecy, but because she wanted to?
"Then I'll remind you," I say quietly. "Every day. You're Mireya the Betrayed. The woman who summoned a demon king and had the audacity to make him fall in love."
She pulls back enough to look at me. "You love me?"
The question catches me off guard. "Is that so surprising?"
"You said the bond was just to break your curse."
"It was. At first." I brush tears from her cheeks. "But you're not Morwenna. You bite back when I push you. You question everything. You chose war over peace because you're tired of being controlled. She wanted to save the world. You want to burn it down and build something better from the ashes." I meet her black-and-silver eyes. "I loved her. But I'm falling for you in a completely different way. And that terrifies me."
"Why?"
"Because I can't lose you again."
She kisses me. Desperate and fierce and entirely her own choice. Through the bond, I feel her emotions—fear of losing herself, but also determination to stay who she is. To not let the past consume her.
When we break apart, she's steadier. Herself again.
"The memories showed me something," she says. "Something important. About angel hierarchy. About—"
A sharp knock interrupts us. Thorne enters, her face grave.
"We have a problem," she says. "Celeste is outside. She came alone. Wants to talk to Mireya."
Through the bond, I feel Mireya's heart clench. Her sister. The one who sided with angels.
"It's a trap," I say immediately.
"Maybe," Thorne agrees. "But she's not armed. No magical signatures except her own. And she looks..." She pauses. "Devastated."
Mireya stands. "I need to talk to her."
"Absolutely not."
"She's my sister!"
"Who helped angels try to capture you!" My voice is harder than intended. "You can't trust her."
"I know that." Mireya's jaw sets stubbornly. "But I need to hear what she has to say. Maybe she realized the angels are lying. Maybe she wants to help."
"Or maybe she's bait to lure you out so they can finish what they started."
We stare at each other. Through the bond, I feel her determination. She's going to talk to Celeste no matter what I say.
"Fine," I growl. "But I'm listening to every word. And if she tries anything—"
"You'll kill her. I know." Mireya touches my face briefly. "Thank you for caring."
She leaves. I follow at a distance, hidden in shadows where I can hear but not be seen.
Celeste waits in the alley behind the safe house. She looks terrible—eyes red from crying, expensive clothes rumpled. When she sees Mireya, relief and horror mix on her face.
"Your eyes," Celeste whispers. "They're completely black now. And your wings—Mireya, what have you become?"
"Someone who makes her own choices." Mireya's voice is cold. "What do you want, Celeste?"
"To apologize. To beg you to come home." Celeste steps forward. "I was wrong. About everything. Mother confessed—she did curse you. She knew about your demon bloodline and suppressed it. I had no idea, I swear!"
Through the bond, I feel Mireya wanting to believe her. Wanting her sister back.
"Why should I trust you?" Mireya asks. "You helped angels try to capture me."
"Because I thought I was saving you!" Tears stream down Celeste's face. "They showed me records about demons. All the atrocities. They said the bond was mind control. That you weren't yourself anymore." She sobs. "But then I saw you fighting. Saw you protecting those refugees. And I realized... maybe everything I was taught was wrong."
"It was. The angels lie about everything."
"I know that now." Celeste reaches out. "Please. Come back with me. We can figure this out together. You're my sister. I can't lose you to—" She looks toward where I'm hidden in shadows. "To him."
"Azraeth isn't the monster you think he is."
"He's a demon king! He's killed thousands!"
"In wars the angels started!" Mireya's voice rises. "After they framed him for atrocities he didn't commit! Everything you learned in angel schools is propaganda!"
"How can you be sure? How do you know he's not manipulating you?"
"Because he gave me choices!" The words echo in the alley. "When he could have forced me to complete the bond, he waited for me to choose. When he could have used demon compulsion to control me, he taught me to protect myself instead. When I asked him about Morwenna, he told me the truth even though it hurt." Mireya's hands clench into fists. "He's had a hundred chances to hurt me. To use me. And he hasn't. That's more than I can say for our family."
Through the shadows, I feel something crack open in my chest. She's defending me. Choosing me. Not because of the bond or prophecy, but because she genuinely believes in me.
No one has done that in five hundred years.
Celeste looks devastated. "So that's it? You're choosing a demon over your own blood?"
"I'm choosing someone who sees me as more than just a problem to solve or a pawn to control." Mireya's voice softens slightly. "I loved you, Celeste. Part of me still does. But you stood by while they tried to strip away everything that makes me powerful. You can't claim to love me and want me weak at the same time."
"I want you safe!"
"No. You want me comfortable. There's a difference." Mireya spreads her wings. "I'm not coming back. I'm not going to let you or Mother or the angels make me small and powerless again. This is who I am now. Accept it or don't—but either way, I'm done apologizing for it."
She turns to leave.
"Wait!" Celeste's voice breaks. "The angels are planning something. An attack. On all the demon safe houses. They know where the refugees are hiding. They're going to—" She stops, looking conflicted.
"Going to what?" Mireya demands.
"Exterminate them. All of them. Children included." Celeste looks sick. "I overheard Seraphina talking to the Celestial Council. They're calling it a 'final solution to the demon problem.' It happens in three days."
Ice floods my veins. They're planning genocide.
Through the bond, I feel Mireya's horror and rage.
"How many safe houses?" she asks.
"All of them. They have a list. Twenty locations across the city."
"How did they find them?"
Celeste's face crumples. "I told them. I thought—I thought you'd be at one of them. I thought if they raided the houses, they'd find you and force you to come home." She's sobbing now. "I didn't know they were planning to kill everyone! I didn't know!"
Mireya goes very still. Through the bond, I feel her emotions shutting down. Going cold.
"You gave them the locations," she says flatly.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I thought—"
"You thought betraying hundreds of innocent people would make me love you again?" Mireya's voice could cut steel. "You're not here to apologize. You're here because you feel guilty about the genocide you helped plan."
"No! I came to warn you! I came to help!"
"Three days too late." Mireya turns her back. "Go home, Celeste. Tell Mother and the angels you tried. Tell them I chose the monsters over you. And then stay out of my way, because if I see you again, I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself from hurting you."
She walks away. I step from the shadows, blocking Celeste's path when she tries to follow.
"She said go," I tell her quietly. "I suggest you listen."
Celeste looks up at me with terrified eyes. "Are you going to kill me?"
"No. She still loves you, even though you don't deserve it. So I'll let you walk away." I lean closer. "But if you betray her again—if you help the angels hurt one more innocent demon—I'll make you wish the Obsidian Prison was merciful."
I leave her trembling in the alley.
Inside, Mireya has collapsed on the floor, shaking. Not crying—rage trembling through her.
"Twenty safe houses," she says. "Hundreds of refugees. Children." She looks up at me, her black eyes blazing. "We have three days to evacuate them all and prepare for war."
"It's not enough time."