Chapter 92 Unexpected Guest
Sera was writing another letter to Belphegor when Morpheus suddenly launched himself off her lap and shot toward the door as something had called him.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Sera watched the sprite scratch frantically at the door, chittering with an urgency she’d never heard from him before.
“Morpheus, stop that.”
But Morpheus wouldn’t stop, his tiny claws working at the gap beneath the door while he made increasingly insistent noises.
Lilith looked up from the book she wasn’t really reading.
“He only does that when…”
Sera trailed off, staring at the sprite.
A knock at the door made them both jump.
Sera slowly stood, smoothing her clothes with hands suddenly unsteady, and opened it.
Belphegor stood in the corridor looking slightly rumpled from travel, his hair less neat than usual and his clothes carrying the faint shimmer of portal magic that hadn’t quite worn off. He was holding a small potted plant with leaves folded inward like closed hands.
He looked at Sera.
Sera looked at him.
Morpheus launched himself from the floor directly onto Belphegor’s shoulder, chittering so loudly it sounded like an entire conversation compressed into ten seconds.
“I know,” Belphegor told the sprite, his eyes still on Sera. “I missed you too.”
“What are you doing here?”
Sera’s voice came out smaller than she intended.
“Council meeting tomorrow. Father requested all brothers present.” He shifted the plant to his other hand. “I also wanted to give you this. It’s a dream blossom. They only bloom at night and smell like whatever makes you feel safe.” He held it out. “I grew it from a cutting in my greenhouse.”
Sera took the plant with hands that weren’t entirely steady. The leaves uncurled slightly at her touch, responding to warmth.
“You grew this for me?”
“Started it the day you left. They grow fast when they want to.”
He glanced past her at Lilith, who was watching with an expression she wasn’t bothering to hide.
“Lilith. Good to see you back safely.”
“Good to see you too,” Lilith said, with absolutely no attempt at pretending she wasn’t paying close attention. “Come in.”
“I don’t want to intrude—”
“You’re not intruding,” Sera said quickly, then looked at her own feet. “I mean, if you want to come in. You don’t have to. But you can.”
Belphegor came in, settling into a chair with his characteristic unhurried ease while Morpheus refused to leave his shoulder. The sprite was still chittering, occasionally gesturing with tiny paws in ways that seemed almost communicative.
“He’s telling you everything that happened since we left, isn’t he?”
Sera sat across from him, the dream blossom in her lap.
“He’s telling me you tried to fly him on a window ledge in Gluttony’s palace and he nearly fell three floors.”
Belphegor’s expression was caught between amusement and mild horror.
“Is that true?”
“He wanted to try! He kept looking at the edge with that hopeful expression and I thought maybe with some encouragement—”
“He can’t fly, Sera.”
“I know that now.”
But she was laughing, the awkwardness dissolving into something easier.
“In my defence, he looked very confident about it.”
“He always looks confident. That’s how he gets into trouble.”
Belphegor scratched Morpheus behind what might have been ears, and the sprite went boneless with pleasure.
“I’m glad he has someone looking out for him. Even if someone has questionable judgment about window ledges.”
Lilith stood quietly, gathering her book and a shawl she didn’t actually need.
“I’m going to get some air.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Sera said, but her eyes were still on Belphegor.
“I know I don’t have to.”
Lilith moved toward the door.
“I want to.”
She slipped out before either of them could argue, closing the door gently behind her.
The corridor stretched in both directions, and she stood there for a moment smiling at nothing in particular.
Belphegor had grown a plant for Sera the day she left his kingdom. Had brought it through a portal to give to her. Had come to a council meeting he would normally sleep through because it meant being in the same palace as someone he’d known for less than two weeks.
She wandered without a particular destination, eventually finding herself in the library where afternoon light came through high windows.
She found a chair near the largest window and sat, pulling out the small piece of paper where she’d written the original prophecy text from memory.
The Seraph born of both realms shall bind the seven, uniting what was divided, bringing strength to face the coming darkness.
Bind the seven.
She’d been turning those words over since Beelzebub’s kingdom, running them through every possible interpretation. The Keepers had suggested alternatives nobody had considered because everyone was too focused on the obvious reading.
What if the obvious reading was wrong?
She pulled out the crystal vial and set it on the windowsill, watching colours chase each other through the glass. Almost ready to drink it. Almost, but not quite.
She needed to understand the prophecy better first. Needed someone who knew the original text, who understood what the binding ceremony actually required, who could tell her if what she was thinking was even possible.
Footsteps in the corridor made her pocket the vial quickly. But instead of passing, they stopped.
Then Asmodeus appeared in the doorway, looking surprised to find anyone there.
“Hiding?” he asked, leaning against the frame.
“Thinking.”
“Same thing in this palace.”
He came in without waiting for an invitation, dropping into a chair across from her with his usual boneless grace.
“What are you thinking about?”
“The prophecy. The actual wording of it.”
She hesitated, then decided Asmodeus was probably the least likely to give her a political answer.
“Beelzebub showed me the original text. It says bind the seven, not choose one. What do you think that means?”
Asmodeus was quiet for longer than she expected. He pulled out one of his rolls but didn’t light it, just turned it between his fingers.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that everyone assumed it meant marriage or partnership with one of us because that’s the convenient interpretation. Keeps things simple, keeps the power consolidated.”
He looked at her properly.
“But if you’re asking what I actually think? I think the prophecy might be asking for something nobody’s considered yet.”
“Like what?”
“Like a binding that includes all seven kingdoms without excluding any of them. A ceremony that unites rather than divides.”
He finally lit the roll.
“But suggesting that to Father or my brothers would cause chaos, so nobody’s bothered.”
“Would you support it? If there was another way?”
“Lilith.”
His smile was sharp and genuine simultaneously.
“I told you in my kingdom I had twenty gold on Cain. I’m not exactly a neutral party here.”
He stood, moving toward the door.
“But if you figure out another way — one that doesn’t require you to break everyone’s heart, including your own? I’d back you.”
He left smoke drifting behind him, and Lilith sat with his words settling around her like something important finally clicking into place.
Maybe she’d been asking the wrong question all along.