The Beginning Of An End

Chapter 29

Emotions tore through me like a tornado the moment I heard the news. Time seemed to stop; I froze harder than before. I glanced at Mammon—horror etched across his features—and then at Beelzebub, whose gaze was fixed on me, expecting answers I didn't have.

The binding hadn't been completed, yet the veil had been ripped. It made no sense. Was the Devil bluffing, as usual? So many possibilities swirled, so little time to consider them. Anger simmered beneath it all, the fear muted by the sheer impossibility of what had just happened.

The books had never mentioned the veil could be broken so easily. My gut screamed that this had been planned, yet with war looming, clear thought was a luxury I couldn't afford. I clenched my jaw and pulled my arm free from Mammon's grasp. He looked at me, confused, but the Devil's voice cut through the tension before he could speak.

"Beelzebub, gather the army!"

Our eyes met. There was something in his gaze—regret, maybe—an apology I couldn't quite read. My attention shifted to Belial, half-conscious in Beelzebub's hold. I stepped closer and took him from Beelzebub's arms.

"I'm sorry," Beelzebub muttered, his remorse unmistakable.

"It's not your fault," I replied, fury flaring—not at him, but at the way victory had slipped through my fingers. He forced a small smile before turning away, rushing from the room.

Belial's weight pressed against me, his breathing shallow and ragged. Vulnerable. Fragile. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, lost somewhere distant.

"Can you hear me, Belial?" I whispered. No answer—just a faint twitch of his fingers against my arm. I tightened my grip, trying to anchor him, but it felt like holding water.

Mammon stepped next to me, hand on my shoulder. "I can take care of Belial. You go see... you know who."

I frowned. "I'm not leaving Belial to you," I hissed. Surprise flickered across Mammon's face before he furrowed his brow.

"Are you blaming me for this?" he growled.

Before I could answer, the Devil brushed past us. "Enough, you two! Mammon, you're coming with me. And you, Asmodeus... there's no hope for you. I'll deal with you later." He spat, turning away, leaving only the three of us.

"Are you sure you want me to leave—" Mammon started.

"Yes." I cut him off sharply, rage burning hot. I swallowed, glancing at Belial. Pale, fragile, but still with us. For now. The weight of it pressed down like a suffocating blanket.

Mammon hesitated, torn between concern and frustration, but I didn't have time to explain.

"Fine," he muttered, turning on his heel. The corridor swallowed him, leaving me alone with Belial. I probably shouldn't have pushed him away but my mind was overflowing with rage and thoughts too heavy to share. I needed to process losing in the most spectacular fashion.

Silence fell, deafening. The distant echoes of Beelzebub's orders, preparations for war—they all seemed muted, suspended in a bubble of stillness. I dropped to the floor, letting Belial rest on my lap. My hand trembled as I brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, skin cold to the touch, wondering how much longer he could hold on.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, unsure to whom—him, for letting this happen, or myself, for failing. "I should have protected you." Too late for should-haves. The past was etched in stone; all I could do now was try to make the future count.

Belial's eyes flickered open, locking onto mine. Relief washed over me. I stroked his hair gently; his lips curved into a small, faint smile. His hand found mine and squeezed it weakly.