Hazbin Hotel: Singed Wings

**The Embassy of Heaven in Hell…** 

A ridiculously simple, yet complex… idea. 

A certain act of mercy, something like a gesture of goodwill, an act of cooperation… Heaven's desire, despite the terrible past, to have the opportunity to engage in dialogue with the King and Queen. It is used extremely rarely, and even rarer does the King himself grace this place with his presence… The last time was twenty centuries ago… 

"Or was it nineteen? The dates are unclear…," William thought, his fingers tapping on the monolithic blue-toned table. The scent that reached his nose wasn't dust, but rather… time itself. This place was rarely used, and this particular office—or meeting hall—seemed to be untouched until now. 

William… William had to admit to himself that he was nervous. 

He was without his usual "armor," simply dressed in a vest and trousers… His hair fell past his back, and his sharp, feather-like ears created the illusion that he was almost the same Archangel he once was. 

William sighed. 

The anticipation of the meeting, the very thought of all those words… Sera's reaction… 

William sighed again, leaning back in the chair that looked like stone but was, in fact, incredibly comfortable and soft—far better than even the one in his own office. 

"What will Sera say when she sees him?" "Will she even want to talk to him?" "What is she feeling?" "Does she still love him?"... The not-so-obvious downside of having multiple streams of consciousness… William had to admit, he was nervous. Despite standing before the demons of Goetia, joking with the King and Queen of Hell… Even facing a furious Adam without flinching… 

But standing before Sera? Again, after such a long separation? That was what was difficult for William, the man who could raise an army even by Pride's standards and storm a Goetia bloodline… Hell, he had even managed to fluster Lilith, the one who could match Adam himself in wit and demeanor! 

But this… 

"Excuse me," came a stern, almost dry voice beside him, making William jerk and lift his head. He inhaled sharply. 

Sera, his… the Supreme Seraph of the Golden City, seemed unchanged. Her white robe, the baggy sleeves she wore for formal occasions… The same white-gray hair cascading down her back, that dark gray skin… 

Her white eyes with long lashes, staring at William. Staring sternly, appraisingly, as if without a hint of warmth. 

"Sera," William said, summoning all his strength and experience dealing with the Morningstars to keep his voice steady, not letting it waver or falter. "I… I didn't notice you… here." 

It was hard for William to speak. He tried to start the long-awaited conversation as if they hadn't been separated for half a century, as if they had just walked into the office together… Sera did not share his sentiment. 

"And not just that," Sera replied dryly, blinking and glancing around the space. "I called you three times. You didn't answer." 

William's hand twitched, and he averted his gaze, trying to… 

"Did you create this?" William asked, surprised, looking around the space. Yes, their physical forms were supposed to remain in their places, but their minds… "Or is this… ours?" 

The dark space, like the top of a massive tower… A chapel, for to their left, like a church stained glass window, were giant clocks, their ornate hands frozen. The room was dark purple, minimalist… As if a slice of two worlds had been merged into an oddly pleasing blend. 

The floor was crystal clear, and William could see reflections—both his and Sera's—while from the ceiling, a darkness without visible end, fell what seemed like petals or shards of stained glass. The rest of the hall, where William had been sitting, remained, simplified, stripped of the ornate details typical of Heaven's style. 

"…" Sera said nothing, slowly examining the room. William's chest grew heavy, and his vessel's heart beat faster. 

"How have you been?" William tried to start the conversation, still keeping his tone casual, leaning back in the chair. 

"As usual," Sera replied evenly, giving a short nod. She glanced at the opposite chair, a simplified replica of the one from her office, sighed deeply, and slowly sat down, floating slightly as she did. 

William's nerves were on edge. He was exerting significant effort just to keep from nervously tapping the table or letting his vessel tremble. His breathing was steady, but only because he was focusing on it. William swallowed. 

"I suppose I should… Haaa…" William sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I apologize, Sera. However little it may mean, I'm sorry," he exhaled, looking at Sera, whose face showed no emotion. 

Their connection was silent. William didn't even try to reach into it, afraid that his mask of calm would shatter completely, destroying any chance of explaining himself. 

"Little," Sera simply nodded, not even blinking. Now she didn't seem like a human woman; her figure didn't exude humanity. What looked at William was a being only vaguely resembling a human, one who didn't need to blink, breathe, or even move. 

William's fingers began tapping the table in an uneven, almost unpleasant rhythm. His head tilted toward the table. 

William didn't know what to do. Every word Sera spoke sounded simple, but in reality… William could see so much, feel so much… That indifference, that coldness, that hidden resentment, almost anger… As if he had betrayed his loving wife, as if he… 

"I didn't want… I didn't want any of you to get hurt. I didn't want you or Emily to suffer because of my failure," William swallowed, lifting his gaze, steadying his trembling hands. 

"So it was easier to turn to the Devil instead of the ancient and wise Seraph who loved you?" Sera's question, spoken in a simple, almost mundane tone, carried so much emotion… Each word felt like a blow to William's heart. 

"Loved?" William… William and Sera were similar in such expressions, especially when emotional. William thought he had first picked it up from Sera, and then the Seraph had changed along with him. 

How William wished it was just a deliberately thrown word, not a dry statement of fact. 

"I…" 

To be continued… 

Translator's note

I am evil, and I'm proud of it.