"The poor soul is captivated," murmured the god, his gaze solemn as it fell upon the slumbering wisp suspended within a luminous, bubble-like cradle. The spirit within, though without form, pulsed faintly, unsettled even in sleep.
"Captivated, you say?" The demon lord arched a brow, reclining in his chair carved from obsidian and veined with ancient runes. He lifted a porcelain cup of rosemary tea to his lips, sipping it with leisurely amusement. "But why such concern, old friend? Do you not strip them of memory and send them anew into the realm of the living, as you always did?
The god sighed, resting his brow against his fingertips. "Yes… Ordinarily, that is the way of things. Clean the slate, temper the soul, send it forth once more. But this one…" he trailed off, fingers tightening slightly, "this one is not ordinary."
The demon lord's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Ah, so the soul bears a power that even you cannot unwind?"
A flicker of divine pride lit the god's countenance, though it was marred by unmistakable tension. "There is nothing in existence beyond my reach, dear companion," he said coolly, though his eyes betrayed the irritation that such a challenge stirred within him. The demon Lord always enjoyed pressing the edge of blasphemy, even if veiled in jest.
Still, the god composed himself, his voice once more serene. "Every soul is bound to the residue of its deeds. Nothing is left unresolved. The cycle I forged ensures all actions, righteous or vile, find their reckoning in time. Balance is the cornerstone."
He rose from his seat, walking slowly toward the soul suspended in the bubble of light. The spirit shimmered faintly at his approach. "But this one…" he continued, his voice low now, almost reverent. "This one clings. He remembers not just fragments, but entire echoes. His longing is not a mere whisper; it is thunder, resounding across realms. He refuses to sever the past. He still seeks it."
"And there is truly nothing that may be done?" asked the demon lord, his tone lazy yet edged with curiosity, his eyes narrowing.
The god exhaled long and slow, the weight of eternity reflected in his gaze. "There is but one thing," he admitted at last. "And I will require your assistance."
A low chuckle rumbled from the demon's throat as he leaned back, setting his cup aside upon a floating shard of black crystal. "Oho… the great and unyielding god, seeking aid from me? Now that is a rare bloom in an eternal garden."
The god did not rise to the jest. Instead, he met the demon's grin with a gaze colder than the void between stars. "Mock as you will, but listen well."
He turned toward the soul still floating in its sphere of light, adrift in timeless suspension. "I shall return them to the realm of living. The same world. The same sky. But this time, their threads shall be woven anew, without the chains of prophecy. We will offer no command. No fate. Only a chance."
"A chance, you say?" murmured the demon lord, steepling his fingers. "You would cast them into the fray of mortal life and let them find their own end, or beginning?"
The god nodded solemnly. "Precisely. I will not write down their paths. Only set the world in motion around them. The rest… will be of their choosing."
The demon Lord tilted his head, one brow raised. "And you are certain this will work? You seem almost, dare I say, confident?"
The god allowed himself a thin smile. "Of course, I am. I am the one who spun the laws of existence. I am the balance keeper, the light before morning. Why should I doubt what I have crafted?"
Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, the demon lord leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles. "Yes, yes, the almighty you. Your self-worship has not aged a day."
The god ignored the barb. Silence hung for a moment before the demon spoke again, quieter this time.
"Tell me then," he said, his voice tinged with dry cynicism, "do you truly believe you'll simply speak, and she… the girl… will obey?"
"Of course, I am, after all, the alm..." The god's words were cut short.
"You don't know her, then," the demon Lord said quietly, not as a challenge but as a fact.
The god straightened, irritation flickering in his ancient gaze. "I created life itself. Every soul is drawn from the breath I first gave to the world. Every mortal is under my surveillance. Do you presume that I do not understand how to guide my own creations? Is that why you're here? To undermine my worth?"
The demon Lord raised a brow, unimpressed. "I'm here because I know her better than you do."
The god stilled.
"I am her father," the demon added plainly, sipping the last of his cooled tea.
A tense hush followed. The god let out a breath, half surrender, half warning. "Very well. Have it your way, then."
The demon Lord smirked. "Excellent. Now listen closely, for this is how it must unfold. That little devil of mine… she will outnumber my sins."
The god turned slowly. "Outnumber? Outnumber your sins? You are the Lord of Hell."
"Just shut up and listen," snapped the demon, eyes glinting. "When she crosses the veil, when she reaches my realm, I'll shape the path of her will. I will move her to choose reincarnation on her own terms. Then you may lay your golden chessboard and begin your little plan."
"You speak as if she holds power over even the divine. I could cast her into a new life with a thought," the god replied coolly. "What could she do to stop it?"
The demon Lord's stare sharpened. "You really want to start that again?"
The god lifted his hands. "Very well. Proceed with your strategy. I shall await her… in Heaven, as agreed. You may escort her soul through Hell, then pass her to me."
"Good," the demon said, rising now, brushing down his long coat of shadows. "Then let it begin."
And so, it did. The moment Ella Boone stepped across the burning threshold of the underworld; the wheels of fate shifted. Everything began to unfold exactly as they had planned. Only, neither God nor demon could have guessed how far the souls would go and create their unchained destinies.