The pit of fire beneath the obsidian cavern roared as the Demon Lords chanted in voices older than language. Their words twisted through the air like chains, pulling something from the depths of the abyss that even Lucien rarely touched.
A shadow began to rise. It was not like theirs, not a demon of horn and claw. It was vast, formless, and heavy, like a storm pressing against the skin. When it spoke, the chamber shook.
"Who summons me?"
The lords bowed their heads, though none dared kneel fully.
"We, the Seven, call upon you," Nyxa whispered. Her veil of smoke shivered, as though in reverence. "We awaken the name buried in silence. The name Lucien himself banished."
The fire dimmed. The shadow swelled.
"He would not dare."
Nyxa's eyes gleamed. "He dares everything. But we dare more."
A pause. Then a voice, low and venomous: "Speak it, then."
The Demon Lords looked to one another. Fear flickered in even their ancient eyes.
At last, Kael spoke the word.
"Azazel."
The chamber cracked with thunder. The pit split wider, molten fire spilling like blood. From it rose a figure—shackled, burned, but unbroken. His form was tall, wings blackened but unbowed, eyes burning with the light of stars long dead.
Azazel had awakened.
---
Above, in the palace of fire, Liora startled awake in her chamber. The crown of thorns seared her brow, a sudden pulse of warning. She sat upright, her breath ragged.
Something old had stirred. Something wrong.
The roses in her garden burned brighter, whispering in her mind. She pushed the whispers away and rose, dressing quickly in a gown woven of silver and flame. When she stepped into the hall, Lucien was already there.
He looked different. Tense. Still as stone. His silver eyes burned hotter than usual, though his face gave nothing away.
"You felt it," she said.
"Yes."
Her chest tightened. "What is it?"
Lucien did not answer at once. Instead, he walked to the tall windows overlooking the abyss, the endless fire below casting him in shadow.
When he spoke, his voice was low. "A name that should have remained forgotten."
"Whose name?"
He turned to her. For the first time since she had known him, there was something like hesitation in his eyes.
"Azazel."
---
The name struck her like a blow. It carried weight, like a stone sinking in water.
"Who is he?" she asked.
Lucien's gaze drifted back to the abyss. "Once… my brother."
Liora froze.
Lucien continued, his voice like smoke unraveling. "When I fell, I did not fall alone. Azazel followed, but not as I did. Where I sought fire to balance, he sought fire to consume. He wished not to rule Hell, but to unmake it. To reduce everything to ash. Even I could not permit that."
Her crown pulsed with unease. "So you banished him."
"Yes." His jaw tightened. "Buried him in flame. Bound him with chains forged from my own blood. I swore his name would never rise again."
"And now it has."
Lucien turned to her, silver eyes sharp. "The rebellion thinks him their weapon. They are wrong. He is a fire that devours friend and foe alike. They will not control him. They will only free him."
Liora's chest tightened. "Then what do we do?"
Lucien stepped closer, his presence filling the air like thunder. "We stop him before he remembers his full strength. If he regains it, even I…" He paused. "Even I may not stand against him."
---
That night, the palace trembled with distant roars. Demons whispered in panic. Spirits cowered. The rebellion thought themselves clever, but already they had unleashed something none of them could contain.
Liora stood in her rose garden, the whip of thorns coiled at her side, her crown burning brighter than ever. She felt it—the pull of the rebellion, the hunger of Azazel, the weight of balance straining under her feet.
Lucien joined her, silent, watchful. For once, he did not stand above her, did not speak as ruler to queen. He simply stood beside her.
"You are afraid," she said softly.
His silver gaze met hers. "I am… aware."
She almost laughed. "That's your version of fear?"
A faint smile curved his lips. "Perhaps."
Her hand brushed the nearest rose, its flame warm on her skin. "Then I will burn with you."
Lucien's eyes softened, the faintest crack in his mask. "Liora…"
But whatever he might have said was lost.
The earth shook. A roar split the sky of the underworld, so vast it seemed to come from every direction at once. The fire in the abyss flared white, brighter than the sun.
Azazel was free.