Chapter 100 The Betrayal
Morpheus was in one of his moods.
Sera laughed as the sprite darted past her head, chittering excitedly while chasing what looked like a floating piece of lint. He had been cooped up in their chambers most of the day while Lilith researched in the library, and the moment Sera had let him out for air, he had exploded with pent-up energy.
“Don’t go too far,” Sera called after him as he looped through the corridor with his useless wings flapping frantically.
The sprite made a triumphant chirp and caught whatever he had been chasing, then immediately lost interest and spotted something else. A shadow on the wall, perhaps, or a dust mote catching the light. He launched himself down the hallway with single-minded determination.
“Morpheus, no!” Sera started after him. “We are not supposed to be in that part of the palace.”
But the sprite was already gone, his chittering echoing back from somewhere ahead. Sera hurried after him, following the sound through corridors that grew quieter and more restricted the further she went. She really should not be here. These were the private wings, places servants only entered when summoned.
“Morpheus, come back right now,” she whispered urgently.
The chittering stopped suddenly.
Sera froze, listening.
Then she heard voices ahead, low and serious, coming from behind a partially open door. She recognized this place. The Devil’s private chambers. She needed to leave immediately before someone found her here.
But where was Morpheus?
Sera crept forward and peered through the gap in the door. The sprite had landed on a table inside, investigating something shiny with intense focus.
The Devil stood near the window with his back to the door, speaking to someone. Malachi stood behind him, closer than seemed necessary, responding in tones too quiet for Sera to make out words.
She should grab Morpheus and leave before they notice her.
Sera pushed the door open slightly, reaching for the sprite. But something about the scene made her pause. Something about the way Malachi was standing felt wrong. The way his hand was moving inside his robes, pulling something out with deliberate care.
Something that caught the light and gleamed.
A blade, Long and cruel, wrapped in chains that seemed to move on their own. The metal looked like bone but darker, blessed by something that made Sera’s skin crawl just looking at it.
Her breath caught.
Malachi moved.
The blade drove into the Devil’s back with terrible precision, punching through cloth and flesh with a wet, sharp sound that seemed impossibly loud.
The Devil gasped, his entire body going rigid. His hands flew to his chest where the tip of the blade had emerged, blood already spreading across his robes.
“How could you?” The Devil’s voice came out strangled, thick with blood and betrayal. “I took you as my brother. I trusted you with everything.”
Malachi’s face was empty of emotion. He twisted the blade with clinical efficiency and the Devil’s knees buckled.
“I serve Armageddon. I have always served Armageddon. Your trust was your fatal weakness, old friend.”
He pulled the blade free and the Devil collapsed forward, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. Blood spread beneath him in a growing pool, too much blood, the kind of bleeding that meant death even for beings who rarely faced it.
Sera tried to scream but no sound came out. She was frozen, watching, unable to move, breathe, or think.
Morpheus saw what happened.
The sprite launched himself at Malachi with a sound like a war cry, tiny claws extended, wings beating uselessly as he flew at the traitor’s face. He reached Malachi and scratched, drawing blood across his cheek, fighting with every ounce of fury his small body possessed.
Malachi grabbed him out of the air mid-attack. His hand closed around the sprite’s body and squeezed.
The sound of bones breaking was like twigs snapping.
Morpheus went limp instantly, one final weak chirp escaping before his eyes went dark and empty.
Sera’s scream finally broke free.
Malachi’s head snapped toward the door. His cold eyes found her frozen in the doorway, found the witness to his perfect assassination, found the problem he had not anticipated.
“Unfortunate,” he said flatly, and dropped Morpheus’s broken body to the floor.
Sera ran.
She made it three steps before Malachi’s hand closed around her wrist and yanked her backwards with brutal force. She screamed again, louder, fighting against his grip. Her nails raked down his arm but he barely seemed to notice. She kicked at his legs, thrashed with everything she had, but he was so much stronger than her.
“Let me go!” The words came out as a shriek.
Malachi’s free hand moved in a complex pattern and Sera felt magic gather in the air, thick and suffocating. He was chanting something in a language that hurt to hear, words that made her skull ache and her vision blur.
The air beside them ripped open.
A portal formed with sickening speed, showing darkness beyond, showing nothing that looked like anywhere in the Vestibulum. Sera fought harder, pure terror giving her strength she did not know she had.
“Help! Someone help me! Please!” Her voice was raw from screaming.
“She saw too much,” Malachi said to no one, his tone conversational despite Sera’s struggling. “She comes with me.”
He dragged her toward the portal. Sera grabbed at the doorframe, at anything within reach, but her fingers found no purchase.
She was still screaming when he pulled her through and the portal snapped closed behind them, cutting off her voice mid-cry.
The corridor fell silent.
Inside the Devil’s chambers, blood continued to spread across the expensive carpet. The Devil lay dying, alone except for the small broken body of a dream sprite nearby. His breathing was shallow and rattling, his life measured in minutes now rather than hours.
Footsteps approached from the main corridor, running. A guard making rounds had heard screaming. He burst into the Devil’s chambers and stopped dead, taking in the scene with wide, horrified eyes.
“Get the princes,” he managed to choke out to his companion. “Get all of them. Now!”
The alarm that went up was immediate and catastrophic. Bells rang throughout the palace, the specific pattern that meant an emergency in the royal quarters. Servants scattered, guards converged, and seven brothers dropped whatever they were doing and ran.
Azrael reached his father’s chambers first, his golden wings manifesting from sheer panic as he flew through corridors that should not have allowed flight. He burst through the door and froze when he saw his father on the floor in a pool of blood.
“Father!” He was on his knees beside him instantly, hands hovering uselessly over the wound. “What happened? Who did this?”
The Devil’s eyes found his eldest son’s face. He tried to speak but could only manage a wet, choking sound. Blood bubbled at his lips.
Lucian arrived seconds later, then Cain, then the others in rapid succession. They surrounded their father, their shock giving way to horror as they realised the extent of his injuries. The wound in his back was wrong, corrupted, the flesh around it blackening like rot spreading from a poison source.
“Get healers,” Beelzebub ordered a guard. “Get every healer in the palace right now.”
“No… healers.” The Devil’s voice was barely a whisper, each word clearly painful. “Infernus… the blade… no… healing…”
“What blade?” Mammon demanded, leaning closer. “What are you talking about?”
“Divine… bone.” The Devil’s breathing was laboured, wet, failing. “Chains… from first… betrayal. Blessed… by darkness. Made… to kill… me.”
“Where would someone get such a weapon?” Asmodeus’s usual levity was completely gone, his face grim.
“Armageddon.” The Devil coughed weakly, more blood staining his chin. “Malachi… serves… Armageddon. Always… has. Never… saw…”
“Malachi did this?” Cain’s voice was dangerously quiet, fire beginning to flicker along her arms. “Malachi stabbed you?”
The Devil managed the slightest nod, his eyes already beginning to glaze. His seven sons leaned closer, each trying to touch him, hold him, keep him anchored to life through sheer will.
“Listen…” The Devil’s voice was fading with each syllable. “All of you… listen…”
“We are listening, Father,” Azrael said, his voice steady despite the rage and grief warring in his eyes. “We are here.”
“Armageddon… coming. Attack… soon. Very… soon.” The Devil’s gaze moved weakly from son to son. “Must… unite… kingdoms… or… all fall…”
“We will,” Lucian promised. “We will figure it out.”
“The girl… was right.” The Devil’s breathing was becoming shallow, irregular. “Lilith… right about… everything. Bind… the seven. Only… way.”
Footsteps in the corridor announced another arrival. Lilith burst into the chambers, having been summoned from the library by a frantic servant. She stopped dead when she saw the scene, the blood, the dying Devil surrounded by his sons.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice small.
“Malachi,” Azrael said without looking away from his father. “He stabbed Father with a blade called Infernus.”
Lilith’s face went white. “Where is Sera? She was with Morpheus. They went for a walk.”
Belphegor had been silent until now, standing slightly apart from his brothers. At Lilith’s question, his eyes began searching the room with growing panic.
“Morpheus. Where is Morpheus?”
His gaze found the small body near the window. He crossed the room in three strides and dropped to his knees, gathering the broken sprite into his hands with infinite care.
“No. Please no.”
“Do… it.” The Devil’s voice was barely audible now, each word a monumental effort. “Bind… kingdoms… through her. Only… chance…”
His breathing was failing, each inhale weaker than the last. The brothers pressed closer, each desperate to hold onto him for one more moment.
“Sorry…” The Devil whispered, his eyes losing focus. “Should have… seen… should have… known…”
“You could not have known,” Azrael said, his jaw clenched tight. “This is not your fault.”
“Love… all of you.” The Devil’s gaze tried to move across his sons’ faces one final time but his eyes were dimming. “So… proud…”
His last breath left him in a wet rattle. His hand went slack in Azrael’s grip. His eyes stared at nothing, seeing nothing, gone.
The Devil was dead.
For a long moment, no one moved. Seven brothers stared at their father’s corpse, processing what had just happened, what they had just lost.
Then Cain screamed.
The sound was raw and anguished, fire exploding across her entire body and scorching the carpet in a perfect circle around her. Azrael remained motionless, still holding his father’s hand, his face a mask of controlled fury and grief. Lucian’s mirrors had all cracked, showing fractured reflections. Mammon’s face had gone completely blank with shock. Asmodeus had his head in his hands. Beelzebub was shaking. And Belphegor knelt across the room cradling Morpheus’s body, tears streaming down his face.
“Where is Sera?” Lilith asked again, her voice rising with panic. “Someone tell me where Sera is.”
“We do not know,” Mammon said quietly. “We just arrived ourselves.”
“She saw it happen.” Everyone turned to look at a guard standing near the door. He cleared his throat nervously. “I heard a girl’s voice, screaming for help and coming from these chambers. By the time I arrived, there was only the Devil and the sprite. What happened to the girl? Wasn’t there a girl?”
“Malachi took her.” Lilith’s voice went flat with horrible certainty. “She must have witnessed the attack. He took her so she could not tell anyone.”
“Took her where?” Belphegor stood, still cradling Morpheus. “Where would he take her?”
“To Armageddon.” Lucian’s voice was cold with fury. “That is who he serves. That is where he has gone.”
“We have to find her,” Lilith said desperately. “We have to get her back right now.”
“How?” Cain demanded, fire still crawling across her skin. “We have no idea where Armageddon’s base is. We have no way to track her.”
“Then we find a way,” Belphegor said, his voice dangerous. “We tear apart every realm until we locate her. She does not deserve this.”
“Neither did Father,” Azrael said quietly, finally releasing his father’s hand and standing. His face was stone, his eyes burning with controlled rage. “Neither did any of us, but Malachi has made his choice. Armageddon has made his move and our father is dead.”
The weight of that statement settled over the room.
The Devil was dead.
Malachi was exposed as a traitor.
Sera was kidnapped.
Morpheus was killed.
Everything had fallen apart in the span of minutes.
And somehow, they were supposed to fix it.
If you want, I can also slightly adjust paragraph pacing for even stronger dramatic impact without changing wording — just where the breaks fall.