The wind howled against the edges of the obsidian fortress that clung like a crown to the mountaintop overlooking Kur'thaal's northern valley. Mist swirled through ancient cracks in the stone as flickering torches sputtered against the ever-present dark. Within the tallest spire—fortified with divine runes etched by Rafael himself—a meeting was unfolding far from the ears of Queen Rishe or her closest commanders.
Rafael sat perched on the edge of a blackened archway, his turquoise wings shimmering faintly in the low light. His small, childlike frame made him appear harmless, even delicate. But the air around him vibrated with raw, unchecked power. He was humming something—a slow, strange tune that seemed to echo despite his silence.
Opposite him, Rahz'Keth stood like a burning sculpture. Her skin glimmered with obsidian scales, catching every glint of light like the edge of a dagger. Her crimson eyes narrowed as she studied Rafael, fingers twitching at her sides. Her presence alone made the room feel warmer, tighter.
"You called me here," she said, her voice smoky and low. "So speak, angel."
Rafael grinned, spinning a shimmering crystal between his fingers. "I didn't call you. You just happened to appear where I happened to be. Isn't that funny?"
Rahz's eyes narrowed further. "Don't play with me."
The air between them crackled.
Then Rafael's smile faded, and his tone dropped into something more grounded—unusual for him. "You're not the only one with questions, Rahz. You want to know why the angels haven't attacked yet. I want to know what Lilith plans to do with Lioren."
She stiffened. The name alone twisted something inside her.
"I've seen the way she trains him," she muttered. "Like a weapon being honed. Like she's crafting something more than a demon or an angel."
"He's both," Rafael replied, voice lighter again. "Isn't that fascinating?"
Rahz bared her teeth. "It's dangerous."
Rafael leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Which is why we should stop it. Together."
A silence followed—heavy, slow, deliberate.
Rahz considered him, wary. "What are you suggesting?"
He rose from his perch with unnatural grace, his feet barely making a sound against the black stone. "I know what you want, Rahz'Keth. Power. Order. Dominion over Kur'thaal. You don't want Lioren rising to become Lilith's chosen. You want what was promised to Asmodan before he died."
Her eyes flickered.
Rafael smirked. "Thought so."
She crossed her arms. "Speak plainly."
"I'll make it simple," Rafael said. "Deliver Lioren to us. Bring him to the fortress under some excuse. I'll handle the rest. We won't kill him—Queen Rishe wants him alive. But we'll contain him. Study him. Remove him from your path."
Rahz's brow furrowed. "And what do you gain?"
Rafael tilted his head, his smile returning. "The satisfaction of keeping Asphodel safe. And a very interesting subject to play with."
At that moment, from the shadows near the back of the chamber, another figure emerged.
Zorakh.
Her silhouette was carved from elegance and venom. Her dark hair framed a face too perfect to be trusted, and her violet lips curled slightly as she stepped forward.
"I've heard enough," she said, her voice like the hiss of silk.
Rahz turned toward her with irritation. "You've been eavesdropping."
Zorakh gave a shrug. "Someone had to ensure you weren't betraying us to the angels."
"I'm not betraying Kur'thaal," Rahz snapped. "I'm trying to preserve it."
Zorakh's smile faded, just slightly. Her next words were quiet, but sharp. "And if Lilith hears that you're plotting to hand Lioren over to Asphodel? What then?"
Rahz stiffened.
Zorakh stepped closer. "You think she won't know? She created the boy's existence with her own hands. She watches everything. Listens to everything. And you think this place is out of her reach?"
Rahz's mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Zorakh walked past her, brushing her shoulder deliberately. "I hope you're certain about your choices, Razy."
The old nickname—once affectionate—cut like a blade.
"I am," Rahz said, though her voice faltered slightly.
Zorakh paused at the exit. "Then be ready to face the consequences."
She vanished into the shadows.
For a moment, the silence returned.
Then Rafael gave a soft laugh, almost musical. "She's dramatic. I like her."
Rahz glared at him. "This isn't a game."
"No," he agreed. "But it *is* a move."
He offered his hand.
"Do we have an understanding?"
Rahz looked at it—then took it, briefly.
"Fine. But if anything goes wrong, it's on you."
"Oh, darling," Rafael chuckled, stepping back with a flourish. "Nothing *ever* goes wrong for me."
And as the wind howled around the tower once more, both demon and angel disappeared into the dark—knowing the next time they spoke, the war might already have begun.