Chapter 33 The Night Before War
AZRAETH'S POV
"Lilith's attacking at dawn," Thorne says, spreading blueprints across the war table. "She's bringing forty witches, fifty corrupted angels she bought from Seraphina's enemies, and something else. Something big that she wouldn't tell anyone about."
"Helpful," I mutter, studying the plans. Through the bond, I feel Mireya's exhaustion—she nearly died today, and now we're preparing for war.
"I need to fortify the cathedral," I announce. "Nyx, gather everyone who can fight. Thorne, you work with me on ward placement. Mireya—"
"I'm helping," she interrupts firmly.
"You need rest."
"I'll rest when I'm dead. Which will be tomorrow if we don't prepare." Her eyes glow with determination. "Stop trying to protect me and let me fight."
Through the bond, I feel her frustration and fear. She's terrified I see her as weak.
"Fine," I agree. "But you take breaks when I say."
We work through the night. I carve demon wards into stone—protection runes that will burn anything with hostile intent. Blood barriers along every entrance that will alert us to intruders. Shadow traps in the corridors.
Mireya learns quickly, her witch training combining with demon instinct. She creates chaos wards—unpredictable defenses that will confuse attackers.
Thorne teaches the refugees basic shielding spells. Even the children learn to create light barriers—simple but effective.
Kael refuses to hide in the crypts. "I want to fight," he insists.
"You're eight years old," I tell him.
"I'm demon-touched and angry. That makes me dangerous." He crosses his arms. "You said demons earn respect through strength, not age."
He's not wrong. "Fine. But you stay with Nyx. Always."
His face lights up.
By midnight, the cathedral is a fortress. Every entrance is warded. Every corridor trapped. We have forty defenders—not nearly enough against Lilith's army, but we'll make it work.
I find Mireya on the bell tower, staring at the blood moon rising again.
"Can't sleep?" I ask.
She jumps, then laughs shakily. "You scared me."
"You're in a tower alone at night during a war. You should be scared." I lean against the railing beside her. "What are you thinking about?"
"Everything." She's quiet for a moment. "Tomorrow, we might die. All of us. The refugees. Kael. You. Me."
"We won't."
"You don't know that." She turns to face me, and moonlight makes her demon-touched features even more striking. "Lilith has an army. We have forty people, half of them children."
"We also have something she doesn't."
"What?"
"Each other." I touch the soul mark on her chest, feeling it pulse with power. "This bond survived death today. It survived the Old Gods' corruption. You think some power-hungry witch can break it?"
Through the bond, I feel her fear softening.
"I'm still scared," she admits.
"Good. Fear keeps you alive." I pull her closer. "But don't let it control you."
She leans into me, and we stand there in silence. Through the bond, I feel her thoughts racing—worries about tomorrow, about the refugees, about whether she's strong enough.
"If we die tomorrow—" she starts.
"We won't."
"But IF we do." Her voice is firm. "I want you to know I don't regret any of this. Summoning you. The bond. Becoming... this." She gestures to her claws, her glowing eyes. "Everyone my whole life wanted me small and powerless. You gave me strength when everyone else wanted me weak."
Something in my chest tightens. "You gave yourself strength. I just helped you find it."
"Still." She looks up at me. "Thank you. For choosing me. For seeing me as more than Morwenna's shadow."
I cup her face, making her meet my eyes. "We're not dying tomorrow. I won't allow it. I've spent five hundred years waiting to find someone worth living for, and I'm not letting some witch take you from me."
She smiles, but it's sad. "You can't promise that."
"Watch me."
I kiss her—desperate and fierce, pouring everything I can't say into it. Through the bond, I feel her respond, her fear transforming into something else. Determination. Hope. Love.
When we break apart, we're both breathless.
"We should sleep," I say roughly. "Big day tomorrow."
"Stay with me?" she asks quietly. "I don't want to be alone tonight."
I shouldn't. We need rest, not distraction. But through the bond, I feel her need—not for physical comfort, but to not face the dark alone.
"Always," I promise.
We return to our rooms together. She falls asleep with her head on my chest, and I watch her breathe, memorizing every detail. The way her shadows move even in sleep. The demon mark glowing faintly on her chest. The small smile on her lips.
I'm falling deeper in love with her every day. And tomorrow, I'll prove I'm worthy of her choice.
Through the window, I watch the blood moon climb higher. In six hours, Lilith attacks. In six hours, we fight for everything.
I must drift off eventually because I wake to screaming.
Not the refugees. Not an attack.
Mireya, thrashing in the bed beside me, caught in a nightmare. Through the bond, I feel her terror—she's reliving death again, the moment the bond broke.
"Mireya, wake up." I shake her gently. "You're safe."
Her eyes fly open—pure gold and terrified. "Az—"
Then she freezes. Staring past me. At the window.
I turn.
Lilith stands outside, hovering in mid-air, her power making the glass crack. Behind her, an army of witches and corrupted angels fills the sky.
But that's not what makes my blood run cold.
Behind Lilith, chained and barely conscious, is Celeste. And standing beside the High Witch, wearing a smile that promises death, is Kieran—except his eyes glow with unnatural power, and his skin is marked with runes I recognize.
Demon-bonding runes. Stolen and corrupted.
Lilith's voice echoes magically: "Sorry we're early. I got impatient. You have one minute to surrender, or I kill the sister. And this time, demon king, I brought something special to make sure you can't shadow-walk away."
She gestures. The corrupted Kieran raises his hands, and reality itself locks down around the cathedral.
We're trapped.
No escape.
And the army descends.