Apocalyptic Passion

Azrail's breath hitched.

The bond between her and Asmodeus was not natural.

It wasn't just a connection. It was something older, deeper, more dangerous.

And she hated it.

She could feel him.

Not just his presence, but his power. His emotions. It was as if their souls had been forcibly tied together, bound by something she neither understood nor wanted.

Asmodeus, however, remained unreadable.

His crimson eyes studied her, calculating, as if weighing his next move carefully.

Azrail gritted her teeth. "Undo it."

The Demon King tilted his head slightly. "Undo what?"

She glared. "This. Whatever this is."

For a moment, Asmodeus said nothing.

Then—he smirked.

Azrail's blood boiled. "You think this is funny?"

His smirk didn't waver. "Not at all." He took a slow step forward, and immediately, she felt it

The pull.

A force dragging her toward him, like a tether wrapped around her very soul.

She stumbled back. "Stay the hell away from me."

Amusement flickered in his eyes. "I'm afraid that's no longer an option."

Azrail's fists clenched. "You arrogant, self-absorbed—"

A sudden sharp pain shot through her chest, cutting her words short.

Her knees buckled.

Asmodeus was in front of her instantly, catching her before she collapsed.

The moment his hands touched her—

A shockwave of raw energy exploded through the room.

The torches flickered violently, the shadows twisted unnaturally, and a low, eerie whisper echoed through the chamber.

"You are awakening."

Azrail's breath caught.

The voice wasn't Asmodeus'.

It wasn't hers.

It was something else.

Something inside her.

Asmodeus' hold on her tightened. His usual smirk was gone. For the first time, she saw something flicker in his crimson eyes—

Uncertainty.

Azrail gasped, clutching at her chest. The pain was growing worse, like something was forcing its way out.

Then—a sudden burst of black energy erupted from her body.

Asmodeus took a sharp step back, his shadows coiling defensively.

Azrail collapsed onto her hands and knees, her vision swimming. Her veins felt like they were burning.

But it wasn't fire.

It was something darker.

Something ancient.

She barely registered Asmodeus' voice through the haze.

"Azrail."

She tried to respond, but the whisper came again—

"You were never meant to be caged."

Her eyes widened.

Because the voice—

It was hers.

She stood in a ruined battlefield, surrounded by corpses of creatures she didn't recognize. The air smelled of blood and ash.

Before her loomed a throne of black stone, its presence oppressive, the atmosphere heavy with despair. A shattered crown lay at its base, dull and lifeless, as if it, too, had lost its purpose.

Azrail stepped forward cautiously, her boots crunching against the debris. She wanted to turn back, to run, but her legs carried her closer to the throne as if compelled by some unseen force.

And then, a figure emerged.

A woman draped in shadows, her burning silver eyes identical to Azrail's.

"You forgot, but I never did," the woman said, her voice low and haunting.

"Who are you?" Azrail's voice trembled.

"I am you," the woman replied. "The part of you that was sealed away. The part they feared."

Azrail shook her head. "No. This is some kind of trick. I'm human. I've always been human."

The woman's laugh was cold and humorless. "Human? Is that what they told you? Is that what you chose to believe?"

Before Azrail could respond, the woman raised her hand, and the world around them collapsed into darkness.

Azrail screamed as she was pulled into the void, her senses overwhelmed by the weight of a thousand memories that weren't her own.

She snapped back to reality, lying on the cold stone floor, panting, trembling.

Asmodeus loomed over her, his expression unreadable.

But this time—

There was no amusement in his eyes.

"What are you?" he asked, his voice quieter than ever.

Azrail didn't know.

But she was starting to realize—

She wasn't just human.

She never was.

Her breath was still ragged, her mind reeling from what she had just seen.

"What did you do to me?" she demanded, her voice hoarse as she pushed herself up onto her elbows.

Asmodeus didn't move. His crimson gaze was sharp, almost predatory, as if he was studying a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

"I did nothing," he said, his tone flat. "This is you."

"Me?" Azrail's laugh was bitter, laced with disbelief. "Don't give me that bullshit. I'm human."

"Are you?" Asmodeus countered, his voice low, but it carried the weight of a challenge.

Her fists clenched. "You think I wanted this? I didn't ask for any of this!"

"No," Asmodeus agreed, his gaze narrowing. "But you don't seem to understand—you've never been ordinary. You wouldn't have survived the rift if you were."

The mention of the rift sent a shiver down her spine.

She remembered the overwhelming darkness, the way it had clawed at her soul, trying to drag her into its endless void.

She had fought it.

But had she won?

Or had something else taken root inside her?

"I don't care what I am," she spat, glaring at him. "I just want this bond gone."

Asmodeus sighed, his expression hardening. "You're still clinging to that idea? Foolish girl. Bonds like this don't just vanish. They're eternal."

Eternal.

The word sent a chill through her.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "There has to be a way. There's always a way."

He took a step closer, and she felt the pull again. Stronger this time, almost suffocating.

"You don't understand the forces at play here," he said, his voice cold. "This bond isn't something either of us chose. It's ancient magic—magic that predates even me."

Azrail's heart sank.

Predates him?

How was that even possible?

She stared at him, her mind racing. If this bond was so old, so powerful, then what did that mean for her?

And what did it mean for him?

Her voice wavered as she asked the question that had been gnawing at the edge of her mind.

"What happens if we… if we can't break it?"

Asmodeus' gaze darkened.

"Then we are bound," he said simply. "Forever."

Forever.

The word echoed in her mind, heavy and final.

Azrail's chest tightened. She couldn't live like this, tied to him, constantly feeling his presence, his power, his emotions.

She wouldn't.

"I'll find a way," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Asmodeus smirked again, but it lacked the usual arrogance. There was something almost sad about it.

"You can try," he said. "But be warned—some truths are better left buried."

Azrail didn't respond.

She couldn't.

Because deep down, she knew—

This was only the beginning.

And whatever she was awakening to—

It wasn't human.