Chapter 95 Chapter 95

Chapter 95 Chapter 95
I hadn’t realized how heavy the crown felt until it settled on me again, the flames licking the edges of my vision, power thrumming through my veins like molten gold. Queen of Hell. Keeper of the damned. Judge, warden, weapon, symbol. Take your pick. I was all of it, and tonight I was already tired of it.

The corridors were quieter than usual. Even the shadows seemed to know I wasn’t in the mood. The walls glowed faintly, runes pulsing with the rhythm of the realm’s heartbeat. I brushed my fingers along them and felt Hell itself respond alive, loyal, and waiting.

“Welcome home,” a voice said from the far end of the hall. Baltazaar. Of course. He was leaning against the obsidian doorway, wings tucked, posture perfectly casual. But his dark, steady, watching eyes gave him away. He knew. He always did.
“Don’t start with the formalities,” I said. “You know how much I hate that.”
“Still, it feels appropriate,” he replied, pushing off the wall. “You’ve been gone longer than usual.”

“I had… business,” I said carefully. “Went to meet Azya and Daya”
His brow arched slightly. “How are they?” he asked
“They are okay, doing the best they can,” I said and waited for it, but he didn’t push, which was strange. Baltazaar never missed a chance to ask about Azya and Daya. Instead, he was studying me quietly, eyes flicking to the faint shimmer still clinging to my skin, the residue of grace I hadn’t fully burned away yet.

“You reek of heaven,” he said finally. “Not a scent I expected to smell again.”
“Ughh, Blatazaar, I am half Divine; you know when I walk on earth my celestial powers shine through,” I said, with the same tired tone. “Are you going to lecture me or let me breathe?”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the open hall. “I’ll save the lecture. But you should know there’s been unrest in the lower circles. The legions are restless. They don’t like your absences.”
“I’m sure they’ll live,” I muttered. “They always do.”

He fell into step beside me as we made our way toward the throne chamber. The fires along the walls dimmed slightly as we passed, bowing in recognition. Every time it happened, it made my chest tighten. I’d built this place out of chaos and rebellion, and now it bent to me like a loyal beast. Sometimes that scared me more than it comforted me.

When we reached the chamber, I stopped at the base of the dais. The throne loomed above, black stone and twisted gold, veins of fire running through it like arteries. I hated it almost as much as I needed it.
“Sit,” Baltazaar said quietly. “You look like you might fall.”
I shot him a look but did it anyway. The throne hummed as I touched it, flames coiling around my wrists, binding, connecting. The realm’s energy flowed back into me in a rush, every scream, every prayer, every whisper of the damned echoing faintly in my head. It was intoxicating and sickening all at once.
“I can never get used to that,” I said under my breath.
“You’re not supposed to,” he replied. “Hell doesn’t let its rulers grow comfortable.”

For a while, we sat in silence. I could feel his gaze on me, but he didn’t say anything. He was waiting, giving me the space to say whatever it was he already knew I wanted to. Finally, I broke. “I saw him.”
His head tilted slightly. “Azrael.” It wasn’t a question.
I didn’t answer, just stared at the fire curling along my fingers. It flickered, dancing between gold and crimson, the mark of our bond, still alive despite everything. I hated how easily it gave me away. Baltazaar’s expression didn’t change, but I felt his power shift. Not threatening, just steady. Anchoring. “And?” “And nothing,” I said too quickly. “It was brief. Accidental.”

He laughed softly, low and rough. “You were gone a night and a day, Geminia. Nothing about that sounds accidental.”
“Don’t call me that,” I said. “Not here.”
“Fine. Your Majesty, then.”

I glared at him, but he only smiled faintly. Typical. Baltazaar could face a thousand demons without flinching, but apparently I was entertainment. After a moment, he said, “You look lighter. Whatever happened up there, it did something to you.”
“Don’t start reading me like I’m one of your recruits.”
“Then tell me why you’re already thinking about going back.”
I froze. “What makes you think I am?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Because I know you, I have been beside you since the blood of hell entered you, fought beside you. Because your hands are already shaking like they do when you’re planning something reckless. Because every time you look toward the veil, the air around you hums with that same dangerous mix of fear and hope,” he said.

I exhaled sharply, leaning back against the throne. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re transparent,” he said simply.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The fires around the chamber crackled softly, reflecting in the black marble floor. My thoughts spun in circles: Azrael’s eyes, the feel of his hand on mine, and the promise in his voice when he said he’d find me. I could still feel the echo of his grace against my skin.
“I can’t stay here forever,” I said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “Not when he’s up there.”

“You have a realm to rule,” He reminded me gently. “An army that answers only to you. You can’t just abandon that because”
“Because what?” I cut in. “Because I’m supposed to pretend this doesn’t matter? That he doesn’t exist? I’ve done that for centuries, Baltazaar. I’m done pretending.”
He studied me for a long time, the usual sarcasm fading from his face. “Then you’re going to need a plan. A good one.”
I blinked. “You’re…you, my commander, are going to help me?”

“I said you can’t abandon your post,” he said. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t make sure no one notices when you do.” A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “And here I thought you’d try to chain me to the throne.”

“Not my style,” he said. “Besides, if you’re determined to do something stupid, someone has to make sure you survive it; those two idiots that you have will probably stand beside you as you do whatever it is,” he said. He moved closer, resting a hand against the armrest of the throne. “Tell me what you need.”
For the first time since returning, I felt a flicker of relief. Baltazaar had always been impossible to read, but when he chose a side, he stayed there. Loyal to the end, even when it meant defying the infernal hierarchy that kept this realm from devouring itself.
“I need a passage,” I said. “One that won’t trigger the alarms. And I need someone to cover for me while I’m gone.”

He nodded slowly. “There’s a route through the seventh fissure, old magic, predating the current seals. It’ll take you close to the mortal plane, but it’s unstable.”
“I can handle unstable.”
“I know,” he said, smirking. “That’s what worries me.”