Apocalyptic Passion

Azrail's grip tightened around the book.

The weight of Asmodeus' words still hung in the air, thick with something unspoken.

Something dangerous.

She had challenged him.

And she had won.

Or so she thought.

Because Asmodeus was smiling.

Not in amusement.

Not in anger.

But in something far, far worse.

Expectation.

As if he had been waiting for this moment.

As if her defiance had been part of the game all along.

DEMON WORLD – THE FORBIDDEN ARCHIVES....

Azrail took a step back, her heart hammering in her chest.

The book was warm in her hands.

Too warm.

Asmodeus didn't stop her.

He simply watched.

His crimson eyes gleamed sharper, darker.

Like a predator watching prey that had just stepped into a trap.

The flickering torches cast long shadows against the stone walls, stretching across the room like unseen hands, reaching.

Waiting.

Azrail clenched her jaw.

She would not fall for his tricks.

She had come here for answers.

And she would get them.

With or without his permission.

Her fingers trembled as she slowly opened the book again—

And the moment she did—

The room collapsed.

THE WORLD WARPED...

The walls twisted, stretching into endless black.

The torches snuffed out instantly, plunging her into an abyss of shadows.

A voice—low, distorted—whispered through the darkness.

"Azrail..."

She sucked in a sharp breath.

The book in her hands was gone.

No.

Not gone.

It had become the abyss itself.

She was inside it.

SOMEWHERE ELSE—SOMEWHERE FORGOTTEN...

Azrail stood on what felt like solid ground, but there was nothing beneath her feet.

Nothing above.

Nothing around.

Only endless black.

She turned, searching—for what, she didn't know.

But then—

A sound.

Soft. Muffled.

A heartbeat.

It was familiar.

And suddenly, she saw him.

A child.

Small. Fragile.

Dark hair, bright eyes—too bright.

His back was turned to her, but she knew.

She knew who he was.

"Brother?"

The boy stiffened.

Slowly, too slowly—he turned.

And Azrail screamed.

Because his eyes—

They weren't the eyes of the brother she had lost.

They were black voids, endless, soulless.

And when he opened his mouth to speak—

The abyss itself answered.

"You let me die."

DEMON WORLD – REALITY....

Azrail gasped, stumbling back violently.

The book fell from her hands, landing with a deafening thud.

Her chest heaved, cold sweat sliding down her spine.

The torches had relit themselves, the room standing exactly as it had been.

Like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn't just been somewhere else.

Her fingers shook.

That had been real.

She had seen him.

She didn't even notice Asmodeus moving until his hand wrapped around her wrist.

His grip was firm, grounding, unyielding.

"Azrail."

Her head snapped up.

His expression was unreadable, but his grip on her tightened slightly.

She felt it then.

The warmth of his touch.

The steady pulse beneath his skin.

The unspoken question in his eyes.

Azrail swallowed hard.

For the first time, she had nothing to say.

Because she didn't know what was worse—

The vision she had just seen.

Or the fact that Asmodeus had been expecting it.

THE TRUTH REVEALED.....

"You knew," she whispered.

Asmodeus remained silent.

His silence was answer enough.

Azrail ripped her wrist free. "You knew, and you didn't tell me?"

He sighed, tilting his head slightly. "There are things you are not ready to understand, Azrail."

Her nails dug into her palms. "That's not your decision to make."

A flicker of something—amusement?—crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant. "No," he admitted. "But it is my burden to bear."

Azrail scoffed. "Burden?"

She took a step closer, ignoring the way the shadows shifted in response. "Do you think I don't feel it too? Do you think I don't deserve to know what happened to my brother?"

At that, something in Asmodeus' expression darkened.

"You saw him," he murmured.

It wasn't a question.

Azrail hesitated but nodded. "He—he wasn't him." The memory of those void-like eyes sent a shiver down her spine. "Something's wrong."

Asmodeus exhaled slowly.

And then, softly—

"He is not dead."

Azrail's breath caught.

For a moment, the world stopped.

The weight of those words crashed into her like a violent wave, leaving her disoriented, drowning.

"You're lying," she whispered.

Asmodeus shook his head. "I do not waste lies on what you will soon see for yourself."

Azrail stumbled back. "No—No, that's not possible. He—"

"He was taken," Asmodeus interrupted, his voice calm but firm. "Altered."

That word again.

Altered.

It made her stomach twist.

Her brother—her kind, gentle brother—was out there.

But he wasn't himself.

She clenched her fists. "Where is he?"

Asmodeus studied her carefully.

Finally—

"If you want to find him, you must be willing to face the truth."

Azrail didn't hesitate.

"I'm ready."

A ghost of a smirk touched Asmodeus' lips.

"No, little storm," he murmured. "You are not."

Then, with a wave of his hand, the world shifted.

THE MEMORY OF ASMODEUS....

The air thickened.

Azrail stumbled as the world around her twisted into something new—something old.

She was in a grand hall.

Black marble stretched in every direction, adorned with gold and obsidian carvings of battles long forgotten.

The Demon Court.

Asmodeus' throne room.

A younger Asmodeus appeared from the darkness, his wings folded behind him, his crimson eyes sharp and calculating.

But he was not alone.

A boy walked beside him.

Azrail's stomach twisted violently.

It was him.

Her brother.

Or rather, the version of him before he had vanished.

The sight of him stole the breath from her lungs.

But something was off.

He was too quiet.

His expression too blank.

The moment he spoke, her blood ran cold.

"Am I ready?"

Asmodeus regarded him for a long moment before answering. "Not yet. But you will be soon."

Her brother hesitated. "And her?"

Azrail stiffened.

"You must forget about her," Asmodeus said smoothly. "She will not understand."

The memory blurred.

Fire.

Screams.

Chains wrapped around her brother's wrists, symbols burning into his skin.

Power—pure, searing energy—poured into him.

Altering him.

His eyes—once warm and full of life—turned black.

And then—

Everything shattered.

BACK TO REALITY...

Azrail's body hit the ground hard.

She was back.

The Forbidden Archives.

The book still lay at her feet.

Asmodeus stood before her, watching.

Waiting.

Her hands curled into fists.

"You knew," she breathed.

Asmodeus inclined his head. "Yes."

Azrail surged to her feet. "You let it happen!"

His expression remained unreadable. "It was not my choice."

"You will need that defiance," he murmured.

"Because if you wish to bring him back…"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"You will have to fight him."