The storm had not yet reached the southern towers, but the air already trembled with its coming.
Aurora stood at the edge of the parapet, eyes on the horizon where the lightning danced like veins of molten gold beneath the bruised clouds.
The Gate’s pulse was louder tonight, echoing through the foundations of Hell itself — a heartbeat that belonged to no living thing.
She had made her choice.
The Heir slept now, exhausted by revelations and fear she dared not yet na. Aurora had watched over her until the girl’s breathing steadied, until her violet glow dimd beneath the weight of uneasy dreams.
Only then did she step away from the quiet chambers, leaving behind the fragile peace she had sown.
There was still one truth left to face — one power she could not ignore.
Asmodeus.
The King of Kings.
The architect of damnation, and perhaps, the last god left in the third layer of Hell.
Aurora drew her cloak close against the cold wind that howled through the broken stone. She could feel the pull already — the faint call from the Deep Vein, where his palace of crimson mirrors still shimred in legend. No one sought him without consequence. But she could not move toward him empty-handed.
Not without him.
The thought ca unbidden, sharp as a mory: the golden eyes in the dark, the quiet laughter that had followed her since the day he had first heard the Prophet’s call.
He had walked beside her in every shadow, unseen yet undeniable — not enemy, not ally, but sothing older.
The Elder.
Aurora exhaled, her breath a thin veil of frost in the night air. "You’ve followed long enough," she said softly, her voice cutting through the silence. "Co out, . I’m done pretending I don’t know you’re there."
For a heartbeat, only the wind answered. Then the shadows rippled.
A figure stepped from them, as if the night itself had decided to take form. Unveiling himself finally.
He wasn’t tall, nor did he bear any mark of demonic blood. No horns, no claws, no flicker of infernal fire. His face was painfully human — handso, calm, and ageless. But his eyes—
They were glowing. Not the dull shine of treasure or power, but molten sunlight, too bright for Hell.
He smiled. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic."
Aurora didn’t return it. "You’ve been following since the day. Since the day Aiden took the mantle of Prophet."
"Following?" His smile deepened, amused. "I prefer to think of it as... observing. You’ve always been more interesting than most of your kind."
"I’m not your experint."
"No," he said, his tone softer now. "You’re sothing rarer. You’re a survivor of your own faith. Our faith "
The words landed heavy. Aurora studied him — the calm posture, the easy grace, the faint shimr of divinity he no longer tried to hide. "You’ve dropped your mask."
He inclined his head slightly. "It’s rude to hide from soone about to walk into the mouth of a god."
"Asmodeus is no god."
His smile flickered. "He was, once. You’ve seen the proof of it — in the way the layers bow, in how even the air bends when he speaks.
You call him King of Demon Kings. But once, long before you or the Prophet, he was one of us."
Aurora’s eyes narrowed. "One of you?"
His golden gaze drifted to the horizon. "Before the Fall, there were many like . Demi-gods who walked the edges of heaven’s design.
We were ant to guide creation’s boundaries — not angels, not demons. But pride runs deep, even in those born between. Asmodeus chose fla over light. I chose silence."
He looked back at her. "And yet here we are again — another rebellion brewing, another prophet revealing true to nature. "
Aurora’s voice was quiet. "You knew Aiden would choose this path."
"Hahaha....I guided him toward it," he said. "He was the only one who could bear the burden. And you..." His eyes softened. "You were the only one who could bear him."
A pulse of old pain flickered across Aurora’s face. "You used us."
"I prepared you," Raone corrected, still calm. "The Guide’s light burns too bright for mortals or demons. He needed soone who could walk in shadow beside him. Soone who would not turn away when the angels fled and the kings conspired."
"And what do you need, ...?" she asked sharply. "You appear whenever power shifts. You whisper to the elder demons, to atlas , to the damned. Why? What do you gain from watching the world burn again?"
His smile returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes this ti. "I gain perspective. And perhaps... a chance to finish what the gods abandoned."
Aurora stepped closer, wings faintly flaring behind her. "If you an to stop —"
He raised a hand, calm. "Stop you? No. I an to arm you."
Aurora hesitated. "Arm ?"
He turned his palm upward. Golden light gathered there, slow and radiant, like dawn breaking through the endless dusk.
The light condensed into a shard — long, curved, and pulsing faintly with the rhythm of the Gate itself. It wasn’t fla, nor tal, but sothing older. Sothing that humd in her bones.
"The Fang of the First," he said softly. "Carved from the spine of the first Seraph who fell into Hell. It’s a relic older than any crown, forged before Asmodeus claid dominion."
Aurora stared at it. "You’re giving this to ?"
"You’ll need it," Raone said. "No weapon forged by demon or angel can pierce Asmodeus’s heart. But this one might remind him what he was before he called himself King."
She took the relic, feeling its weight settle like mory in her palm. It was cold — and yet it throbbed faintly, alive.
"Why help ?" she asked again, quieter now. "If you’re what you claim — a demi-god turned demon — why stand against him?"
Raone’s expression darkened. "Because Asmodeus and I began together.
And I was the one who failed to stop him when he beca what he is now. If he burns the Circles again, if he devours the Prophet... it will be my sin repeated."
Aurora’s heart clenched. "Then you think atlas really is the Prophet."
He t her eyes. "....It’s already begun."
They stood in silence, the wind whirling around them, scattering the ashes of long-dead fires.
Finally, Aurora said, "When I stand before him, if he sees through —"
Raone’s smile was faint, almost sad. "He already will. He’s always known your scent....you made quite a ss when you ca before...."
Aurora’s jaw tightened. "Then tell how to survive him."
Raone’s golden gaze deepened, suddenly solemn. "You don’t survive Asmodeus," he said. "You endure him.
You remind him of the day he fell — when even a god learned what it ant to fear his own reflection."
Aurora looked at the shard in her hand. It pulsed faintly with each heartbeat. "And if he kills ?"
Raone’s smile softened again, almost fond. "Then I will carry your soul myself. You’ve earned that much."
For a mont, there was no sound but the whisper of the relic between them.
Aurora exhaled, a thin, steady breath. "Then this is goodbye."
Raone tilted his head. ’haha....No. Not yet.’ he thought.
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