A seraphic novel - Book 2
After the devastating loss of their friend Christoph, life for Cecelia, Evie, and the rest of the Elite Wing has been anything but normal. Struggling to find balance between the mundane and the supernatural, they navigate a...
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The air was thick with the stench of sulfur and decay, an oppressive fog that clung to the senses and obscured vision. The dungeon of Lucifer's castle was a place of endless shadow, where screams of the damned echoed through the labyrinthine halls, creating a symphony of despair. In the darkest recess of this infernal maze, Azazel, once the proud and fearsome Arch Duke, lay chained and broken.
His once-handsome face, was now a canvas of bruises and cuts. The bat-like wings that had once symbolized his dark majesty were now reduced to pathetic stumps, oozing with the remnants of his torment. Demonic minions, their grotesque forms barely discernible in the dim light, circled him like vultures, their eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as they inflicted fresh wounds with their cruel instruments. This greater demon, reduced to a side show of pleasure for the spawn of hell.
Azazel's mind was a storm of agonizing memories, each one a dagger twisting in his soul. He saw the Angel Key slipping from his grasp, its golden glow mocking him as it eluded capture. He remembered the rage in Lucifer's eyes when he learned of the Key's existence, and the fury that followed when Azazel's reckless war against the Elite Wing ended in disaster. The image of Eros, blade in hand, delivering the final, fatal blow that severed his head from his body was seared into his consciousness. His death at Eros's hand had been swift and humiliating.
But amidst the sea of failures, there was one memory that brought a twisted smile to his bloodied lips: the death of Ceruleus. He could still feel the thrill of that moment, the satisfaction of watching his nemesis fall. Yet to those who knew, even that triumph was tainted, for it had led to his greatest failure.
The heavy door at the end of the dungeon creaked open, and the demonic minions scurried away, retreating into the shadows. A figure stepped into the dim light, tall, regal and imposing, his presence commanding absolute terror.
Lucifer.
His eyes burned with an icy, merciless fire as he approached Azazel, his expression a mask of contempt and disappointment. "Azazel," he intoned, his voice a low, menacing growl. "You have failed me."
Azazel tried to lift his head, but the weight of his shame and the pain of his injuries kept him down. "My lord, I—"
"Silence!" Lucifer's command was absolute. He circled Azazel slowly, each step deliberate and measured. "You failed to secure the Angel Key. You waged war against the Elite Wing without my sanction. And you concealed your actions from me. Such arrogance and incompetence cannot go unpunished."
Azazel's dread deepened with each word. He had known this reckoning would come, but the reality was far more terrifying than he had imagined. "I... I sought only to serve you, my lord," he managed to say, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"Serve me?" Lucifer's laughter was a cold, hollow sound. "You served only your own pride and ambition. And what did it gain you? The Key is lost because it was used to save Ceruleus and return him to Heaven, where he now resides with renewed devine Archangel power." He spat the words, his fury palpable.
Azazel's eyes widened in horror. "Ceruleus... lives?"
"Yes, he lives and is more powerful than ever," Lucifer hissed. "Your one so-called victory has become your greatest failure."
Azazel felt as though the ground had crumbled beneath him. "But I killed him," he whispered, his voice breaking.
Lucifer's gaze hardened. "Your incompetence has cost us dearly. Though your failure is not Hell's failure. Prince Samael will be released. He will assist Belial in completing the mission you failed." He leaned in closer, his eyes boring into Azazel's with terrifying intensity. "And you, Azazel, will remain here, to reflect on your failures."
The mention of Prince Samael sent a shiver of fear through Azazel's already trembling form. Samael was known for his ruthlessness, a being of immense power who brooked no failure. His involvement meant that the mission was of the utmost importance, and that success was the only option.
"Please, my lord," Azazel pleaded, desperation edging his voice. "Give me another chance. Let me prove my loyalty."
Lucifer's gaze was cold and unyielding. "Your pleas are worthless to me now, Azazel. Reflect on your failures and learn from them, for this is the only mercy you will receive." With that, he turned and began to walk away, his dark cloak billowing behind him.
Azazel's heart sank as the door slammed shut, leaving him alone in the darkness once more. The weight of his dread was palpable, pressing down on him like a physical force. The knowledge that Prince Samael was now involved only intensified his despair. As the last echoes of Lucifer's footsteps faded away, Azazel closed his eyes, his mind a storm of fear and regret.
