Chapter 100

Chapter 100
Nana stepped forward, her eyes blazing and the anger in her voice couldn't be mistaken. “You’re the worst, Azrakel. You slaughtered your own brother. You destroyed the only woman who dared love you despite knowing exactly what a monster you are. And now? You want to kill your son? Even Lucifer wouldn’t sink this low.”

Azrakel’s face darkened, his lips curling into a snarl. Nana knew exactly where to hit him with her words and she got the reactions she wanted from him. “How dare you speak my Father’s name like that, in this filth of a mouth! How dare a witch show up in the domain of demons?”

It felt dreadful for Nana, after all these years, she was finally face-to-face with the creature who had twisted her dreams into nightmares, the one who’d stolen the demon who had once been her only light in the dark. That day was carved into her memory, and no force in heaven or hell could ever make her forgive Azrakel.

Nana stepped closer, her boots crunching through the scorched bones that lined the floor of the throne hall. “Filthy?” she spat. “You think I fear you, Azrakel? You’re just a shadow. Your brother had the heart, the power, and the loyalty your father craved. You only ever had envy and that's why you would never win.”

A muscle twitched in Azrakel’s jaw. For a moment, the flames around him pulsed erratically, answering the tremor in his fury. Nana saw that small, dangerous flash of the young demon he once was, the one who watched from the corner while his brother earned praise.

“You couldn’t bear it, could you?” she said, her voice low and trembling with restrained fury. After all these years, she was finally standing before him and every muscle in her body quivered with the effort not to strike.

Maybe it was because of Dyvian that she still held back, but this was never how she had imagined meeting that wretched demon. “He was better than you in every way, and you knew it. So you poisoned him. You smiled while his light faded, and then you blamed the war. You really thought no one would ever know.”

“Enough!” Azrakel roared. His wings burst open, flaring wide and terrible, the air twisting with shadows.

But Nana was already moving. She darted forward and jabbed a finger against the black scar seared into his side, the wound Dyvian had given him moments earlier. Azrakel snarled, staggering back as smoke poured from the mark.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she said, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “That’s the pain you deserve.”

The Underworld shuddered around them as cracked walls split open, and in the distance, the chained souls in Azrakel's domain wailed in unison, their cries feeding on Azrakel's fury.

“You talk too much,” he spat, trying to steady himself, but Nana was already chanting under her breath.

Dyvian lay a few feet away, his wings shredded and his skin pale as snow. The veins of power that once ran through him flickered weakly, like dying embers. Nana’s expression softened as she knelt beside him.

“Idiot boy,” she murmured. “You’ve got his stubbornness.”

She pressed her palm to his chest, and a golden light bled from her hand into his skin. The torn flesh on his back knit slowly, his feathers sparking at the edges of his ruined wings. His breathing steadied. “That should hold you till we get you out of this damned pit,” she whispered.

Azrakel’s laughter crawled through the hall. “You think you can take him away from here, witch?”

Nana looked up at him, her eyes glowing violet. “Well, I won't show up here if I'm not confident.”

With a sharp snap of her fingers, a rune ignited beside her, spinning violently. A portal tore open, roaring as it sucked in the stifling heat of the Underworld. Nana hooked Dyvian’s arm over her shoulder, hoisting him upright with a strength that belied her frame.

Azrakel lunged, his claws slashing through the air, but she pivoted effortlessly. Power radiated from her in a sudden, blinding wave, and he froze mid-strike, his muscles rigid, lips curled in a snarl, fury etched like fire into every vein, trapped in suspended agony.

“Stay exactly as you are, monster,” she whispered.

And then she stepped into the portal with Dyvian, her hair whipping in the rushing wind as the spell sealed behind them in a burst of white fire.

When the magic faded, Azrakel’s limbs broke free from the spell. He stumbled forward, empty space where they’d stood. The silence afterward was unbearable.

He screamed.

The sound tore through the underworld, shaking the very bones of the damned. “Find them!” he thundered, his voice echoing through the caverns. “Search the mortal realm, the heavens, tear the realms apart if you must!”

Demons scattered to obey, their wings slicing through the smoke. His fury poisoned the air, his aura dark enough to make even the lesser beasts crawl backward in fear.

“Bring me my son,” Azrakel growled, voice trembling with madness. “Bring me the Angel of Kindness. I will tear out his light with my own hands!”

...

Dyvian dreamt.

It was sunlight. Avaris’s warm and soft laughter filled the field, brushing against his heart like a forgotten lullaby. They were sitting close, his hand brushing over Avaris’s cheek, the other threading through gold grass that bent toward them as though listening.

Avaris smiled... that smile that once stopped Dyvian’s thoughts, made him forget who and what he was.

But suddenly, the light dimmed. The sky bled red. The wind soured with ash. Avaris’s smile thinned.

Blood spilled from his mouth and it dripped onto his pale hands, staining them. He tried to speak, his eyes glassy and trembling.

“Why… your Highness…” His voice cracked. “Why did you leave me?”

Dyvian reached for him, desperate, shouting his name, but the world tore apart before he could touch him—

He woke up with a sharp gasp.

His body jerked upright, drenched in sweat. The sheets beneath him clung to his skin. Every breath he took burned against his throat and every inch of his body screamed.

He tried to move, but pain seared through his ribs, down his wings, like knives pressed into bone.

“Stay still,” came a dry voice from the corner. “If you keep moving like that, you’ll tear yourself apart before your wounds even think of healing.”

Nana stepped forward, her hands folded behind her, eyes sharp despite the faint circles beneath them. “Your stupid father didn’t even go easy on you. You’re lucky you’re alive.”

Dyvian barely looked at her. His voice came rough, raw, almost frantic. “Where is he?”

Nana frowned. “Who?”

“Avaris,” Dyvian breathed, his chest tightening. “Where is he?”

Nana stared for a long moment. Then, quietly, she poured something thick and greenish into a small glass. The scent was bitter, the kind that burned the nose before it reached the tongue.

“Drink,” she said, handing it to him. “You’ll need your strength.”

He hesitated, but took it, swallowing in one go. It scorched down his throat.

“He’s safe,” Nana said finally, setting the glass aside. “For now,” she paused, hesitating to say something. "That boy, Xaren, he has done something he shouldn't have done."

The only thing Dyvian heard was that Avaris was safe. He leaned back, his eyes distant as he breathed slowly. He whispered under his breath, so low Nana almost didn’t hear it.

“I should have never left him.”

Nana’s gaze softened for just a second, then turned away. “Then don’t waste what’s left of this chance,” she said. “Heal fast. Because if Azrakel finds him before you do, all the hells won’t be enough to save either of you.”

The air went still. Dyvian closed his eyes, the image of Avaris’s bloodstained smile burned behind his lids and he swore quietly, almost like a prayer, he won’t lose him again.