Apocalyptic Passion

The air shook with raw power.

Azrail staggered back, her body burning from the strange force that had tried to tear her apart. Every breath she took felt like swallowing shards of glass, and her limbs were heavy with exhaustion. Yet her mind was sharper than ever, her instincts on high alert.

Asmodeus' words echoed through the chamber, his voice filled with fury and dominance.

"You do not touch what is mine."

The darkness seemed to recoil at his declaration, shrinking back, but it didn't disappear entirely.

The entity, its form still cloaked in swirling shadows, stared at them. Its glowing white eyes radiated a sense of ancient knowing, something beyond time and reason.

"Yours?" the voice whispered, laced with amusement and curiosity. "You think you own what was never meant to exist?"

Azrail's chest tightened, her mind spinning as those words echoed inside her head

There it was again. That damn phrase

You should not exist.

The lost one has awakened.

She had heard it too many times now to dismiss it as mere coincidence. But no matter how much she tried to piece it together, the meaning remained just out of reach, a puzzle with missing pieces.

Asmodeus stood tall, unyielding, his crimson eyes fixed on the entity. His shadows coiled tighter than usual, swirling around him like a storm barely held in check. Azrail had seen Asmodeus angry before—hell, she had been the cause of his rage on several occasions—but this was different.

This wasn't anger.

This was unease.

Asmodeus—the Demon King, the most powerful being she had ever known—was tense. And that terrified her more than anything.

For the first time, he was facing something outside of his control

Azrail clenched her fists, forcing herself to focus despite the chaos in her mind. "Enough with the cryptic bullshit. Who the hell are you?"

The entity's gaze shifted to her, its eyes narrowing slightly.

"Ah… so you truly do not remember," it said, its voice soft yet resonating like a distant thunderstorm.

Azrail's breath caught.

Remember?

A flicker of memory surfaced in her mind, unbidden and unwelcome. A battlefield drenched in blood. A shattered throne. A woman who looked like her—no, was her. The vision was fleeting, a mere shadow of something deeper, something buried so far within her that it felt like it wasn't hers to recall.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she snapped, her voice laced with frustration and fear.

The entity didn't answer her. Instead, its gaze returned to Asmodeus.

"She belongs to this world now," Asmodeus said, his voice low and dangerous. "Whatever you are, you're trespassing."

The entity let out a low, echoing chuckle.

"Foolish king," it murmured. "You claim dominion over things far beyond your reach. You think yourself powerful, but you do not understand the forces at play."

Before either of them could react, the shadows surged forward, a tidal wave of darkness aimed directly at them.

Azrail's instincts screamed at her to move, but her body felt like it was stuck in quicksand, her muscles refusing to obey. The tendrils of shadow were faster than anything she had ever seen, and they were closing in—

She threw up her hands, not entirely sure what she was doing—

And then it happened

A pulse of pure energy erupted from her palms, dark violet flames tearing through the air.

The flames collided with the shadows, creating an explosion of light and darkness that sent shockwaves through the chamber. The force of it knocked Azrail off her feet, her body slamming into the ground.

But it worked.

The shadows halted, retreating slightly as if stunned.

The entity's form flickered, its white eyes narrowing.

"You wield it," it whispered, its voice filled with something akin to disbelief.

Azrail stared at her hands, her heart pounding in her chest. The violet flames were gone, but she could still feel the heat coursing through her veins.

"What the…" she muttered, her voice barely audible.

Asmodeus moved then, stepping forward and placing himself between her and the entity. His presence was overwhelming, his crimson eyes glowing like embers in the darkness.

"Leave," he commanded, his tone sharp as a blade.

The entity didn't respond immediately. It seemed to study Azrail for a long moment, its white eyes unreadable.

Then, the shadows began to shift.

"You cannot run from what you are, lost one," it said, its voice softer now, almost pitying.

And then, just like that, it vanished.

The suffocating presence lifted. The torches around the chamber flickered back to life, their flames chasing away the lingering darkness.

Azrail sat up slowly, her body trembling from exhaustion. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear.

She turned to Asmodeus, expecting some kind of explanation—

But the look on his face stopped her cold.

He was staring at her like she was a stranger. Like he didn't recognize her.

"What are you?" he asked, his voice low and filled with something she couldn't quite place.

Azrail opened her mouth to answer—

But nothing came out.

Because for the first time in her life, she didn't know the answer.

Before she could gather her thoughts, her vision blurred.

Her body collapsed, the energy she had unleashed finally taking its toll.

The last thing she saw before the darkness claimed her was Asmodeus moving toward her, his expression unreadable.

Somewhere Else…

Azrail was falling.

Not physically—mentally.

She knew she wasn't awake. She was trapped in something deeper, something far beneath the surface of her consciousness.

The air around her was cold, filled with the scent of blood and fire. The ground beneath her feet was rough, jagged, and littered with shards of something she couldn't identify.

And then she heard it.

A voice.

"Azrail… wake up."

Her pulse spiked.

The voice was familiar, achingly so. But before she could figure out who it belonged to—

The world around her shifted violently, snapping back into focus.

She gasped, jerking upright.

Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, her mind racing to piece together what had just happened.

It took her a moment to realize she wasn't in the same chamber anymore.

The room she was in now was different—smaller, less oppressive. The walls were made of dark stone, but they lacked the ominous carvings of the previous chamber.

And Asmodeus was there.

He stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, his crimson eyes watching her intently.

"You're awake," he said, his tone unreadable.

Azrail swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Where are we?"

"One of my private chambers," he replied. "You collapsed. I brought you here."

Azrail blinked, her mind struggling to process everything. "That… thing. The shadows. What was it?"

Asmodeus was silent for a long moment, his gaze never leaving her.

"I don't know," he admitted finally.

The admission sent a chill down her spine.

If he didn't know…

"What did it mean?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "What did it mean when it said I shouldn't exist?"

Asmodeus' expression darkened. "That's what I intend to find out."

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her.

"There's something you're not telling me, Azrail."

Azrail tensed. "What are you talking about?"

"That power," he said, his voice sharp. "The flames. That wasn't normal. That wasn't human."

Azrail's breath hitched.

She had felt it too—the way the energy had coursed through her, wild and uncontrollable.

But it wasn't just the power that scared her.

It was the way it had felt.

Like it belonged to her.

Like it had been waiting for her all along.

"I don't know what it is," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what's happening to me."

Asmodeus studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching.

Then, without a word, he turned and left the room.

Azrail stared after him, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

She didn't know what was happening to her.

But one thing was clear.

Whatever this was—

It was only the beginning.