Chapter 36 The Thing Below
MIREYA'S POV
Water fills my lungs and I'm drowning.
I thrash, trying to find up, but there is no up. Just crushing darkness and pressure and the horrible certainty that I'm about to die.
Then hands grab me—strong, familiar. Azraeth pulls me against his chest, and suddenly we're shooting upward through the water. His wings beat powerfully despite being soaked.
We break the surface, gasping.
"What was that voice?" I choke out, coughing up black water.
"I don't know." Azraeth's face is grim. "But whatever it is, it's been trapped down here since—"
The water explodes behind us.
Something massive rises from the depths. Not demon. Not angel. Something older. Its form keeps shifting—sometimes serpent, sometimes shadow, sometimes just pure wrongness that makes my eyes hurt to look at.
"Oh no," Azraeth breathes. "It's an Old God."
"A what?"
"The beings that existed before angels and demons. They were imprisoned during the First War because they tried to devour all of creation." His grip on me tightens. "The temple wasn't just hiding truth. It was a prison."
The creature's voice booms through the flooding chamber. "Five centuries. Five centuries chained beneath sanctimonious stones while the world forgot I existed."
Seraphina screams from across the chamber, still chained by the temple's magic. "Someone stop it!"
But the Old God just laughs—a sound like mountains crumbling. "The archangel who killed the prophet. The witch who poisoned children. The mother who sold her daughter. Such delicious guilt."
Its massive form turns toward them. Opens what might be a mouth.
"Wait!" I shout before I can think better of it.
The creature pauses. Looks at me with eyes that are too many and not enough all at once.
"You want revenge on them? Fine. But the refugees did nothing wrong. Let them go first."
Through the bond, I feel Azraeth's shock. And pride.
The Old God considers this. "Interesting. The demon-bonded witch bargains for strangers. Very well. But you must pay a price."
"What price?"
"A memory. Something precious. Something that hurts to lose."
I don't hesitate. "Done."
"Mireya, no!" Azraeth tries to pull me back, but I step forward into the flooded temple.
The Old God reaches out with something that might be a hand. Touches my forehead.
Pain explodes through my skull. I feel it rifling through my memories like pages in a book, searching. Then it stops on one—my first kiss with Azraeth. The moment in the bell tower when I chose him. The feeling of being wanted, chosen, loved.
"No," I gasp. "Not that one. Take something else—"
"Too late."
It rips the memory away.
I stagger backward, and suddenly I can't remember why I'm holding Azraeth's hand. Can't remember why my chest feels warm when I look at him. The bond is still there, but the moment that made it real—gone.
Azraeth catches me. "What did it take?"
"I don't... I don't know." Tears stream down my face for a reason I can't name.
The Old God releases the portal magic. Safe passages bloom around the chamber, leading up and out. The refugees who fell with us scramble through them, dragging the children to safety.
But Seraphina, Lilith, and my mother remain chained.
"Now," the creature purrs, turning back to them. "Let's discuss your crimes."
"We need to leave," Azraeth urges, pulling me toward the last portal.
But I can't stop watching. The Old God flows toward Seraphina like living nightmare. The archangel screams, her perfect composure finally shattered completely.
"Please! I was following heaven's orders!"
"Heaven's orders." The creature's laugh echoes. "Tell me, little angel. When you killed the prophet-witch, were you following orders? Or following jealousy?"
Seraphina's face goes white.
The Old God reaches into her chest—not physically, but something worse. I watch it pull out a glowing thread. Her soul? Her power?
"No! That's mine!"
"Not anymore."
It consumes the thread. Seraphina collapses, her wings turning from gold to ash-gray. Mortal. Powerless.
Lilith tries to run. The chains hold her in place.
"The witch who poisoned children," the Old God muses. "What shall I take from you?"
"My magic," Lilith gasps. "Take my magic, just let me live!"
"Oh, I'll take much more than that."
What happens next makes me look away. Lilith's screams echo through the chamber, but when I force myself to look back, she's alive. Breathing. But her eyes are empty—awareness gone, leaving only a shell.
My mother is last. Helena Ashcroft kneels in the water, trembling.
"Interesting," the Old God says. "You sold your daughter to save yourself. Classic human cowardice. But there's something else..." It leans closer. "You loved her once. Before fear made you a monster. I can see it—that tiny spark of maternal love you buried deep."
"Please," my mother whispers.
"I'll give you a gift. I'll take the love you buried. Leave you with only the fear and regret. So you can spend the rest of your mortal days knowing exactly what you threw away and feeling nothing but emptiness."
The creature reaches into her chest.
My mother's scream is somehow worse than the others.
"We're leaving. Now." Azraeth drags me toward the portal.
But as we're about to step through, the Old God's voice stops us.
"Wait. Demon king. Demon queen. You freed me, even if accidentally. I owe you a boon."
We freeze.
"One truth. One answer. Ask wisely."
Through the bond, I feel Azraeth's mind racing. So many questions. Who really started the First War? How do we stop the angel regime? Where are the other Old Gods imprisoned?
But I speak first. "How do we save the three refugees who were captured?"
The Old God's laughter rumbles through the flooding temple. "Such a small question for such a large boon. Very well. The captured demons are being held in the Celestial Prison. The same prison that held your bonded king. To free them, you must do what the angels fear most."
"What's that?"
"Tell the truth. Reveal their lies to the world. Make their corruption impossible to ignore." It pauses. "But be warned—truth is a weapon that cuts both ways. Once unleashed, you cannot control where it strikes."
The portal begins to close.
"Wait!" I shout. "What are you going to do now that you're free?"
The Old God's smile is terrifying. "What I was always meant to do, little queen. Wake my siblings. And remind this world that we were here first."
Azraeth yanks me through the portal just as the temple collapses completely.
We materialize in the cathedral courtyard. Dawn is breaking—pink and gold and beautiful. Around us, the refugees we saved huddle together, checking on the children.
Kael runs to me, throwing his arms around my waist. "You came back!"
I hold him, my mind still reeling. The Old God. The judgment. My stolen memory. The truth about the angels exposed but trapped underwater with a creature that wants to destroy the world.
"Mireya," Azraeth says quietly. "What did it take from you? What memory?"
I look at him—this demon king who sacrificed years of his life to save refugees he barely knows. Who chose me over power, over revenge, over everything.
And I feel the bond between us, warm and strong.
But I can't remember why.
"I don't know," I whisper. "But I think it was important."
Through the bond, I feel his devastation. He knows what was taken. He remembers. But I don't.
Before he can speak, Nyx runs up, her face pale. "We have a problem. A big one."
"Bigger than an Old God escaping?" Azraeth asks dryly.
"Yes." Nyx holds out a crystal that shows moving images—magical news. "The temple collapse caused a magical shockwave. Every supernatural being in the world felt it. And now they're coming."
The image shows angels mobilizing. Demon lords emerging from hiding. Witch covens arming for war.
"Coming where?" I ask.
"Here. To Ashenvale. To us." Nyx's hands shake. "They know about the temple. About the truth it revealed. And they're going to kill anyone who knows what really happened five hundred years ago."
Through the bond, I feel Azraeth's grim understanding.
We didn't just expose the angels' lies.
We started a war.
And standing in the cathedral courtyard with forty refugees, sixteen frightened children, and an escaped Old God somewhere beneath us, I realize we're completely unprepared.
Kael tugs my hand. "Mireya? Are the bad people coming?"
I kneel to his level, forcing a smile I don't feel. "Yes. But we're going to protect you. I promise."
He nods, trusting me completely.
As he runs back to the other children, Azraeth pulls me aside. "We can't fight the whole supernatural world. We need to run. Hide. Disappear until this blows over."
"And the refugees?"
His jaw tightens. "We save who we can."