Far beyond the castle, deep within the woods surrounded by towering, ancient trees, Azazel's sharp eyes swept the misty air for any sign of life. He could sense the other demon nearby, feel his presence in the air like needles pricking against his skin. The sensation was suffocating, crawling beneath his flesh, testing his patience.
Even through the thick fog, his flawless vision allowed him to see everything, even a snail inching across the damp soil. He stood still, eyes narrowed, listening as the wind whispered through the branches.
He was growing weary of the search. Asmodeus was proving elusive, and Lucifer's patience was wearing dangerously thin. The Dark Lord's temper was the last thing Azazel wished to provoke, an enraged Lucifer meant chaos, and chaos meant consequences even Azazel might not escape.
He crouched, running his fingers over the cold sound. The soil bit against his skin, sending a chill up his arm, a confirmation that Asmodeus was close.
