The roar that split the underworld was unlike anything Liora had ever heard. It was not sound—it was weight. It pressed into her chest, rattled her bones, set her roses trembling as if in terror.
Lucien stood at her side, silver eyes narrowed against the blazing horizon. For once, his calm seemed strained.
"Azazel," he said, voice low as thunder, "is awake."
The words had barely left his lips before the sky cracked. Great fissures tore through the crimson expanse, spilling white fire that rained like meteors into the abyss. Each impact shook the palace, scattering demons in panic.
From the deepest pit, a figure rose.
Azazel was not like Lucien. Where Lucien's presence was velvet fire, controlled and sharp, Azazel was raw conflagration. His body shimmered between shadow and flame, his wings charred but immense, his eyes burning with a light too bright to be borne. Shackles still clung to his arms, half-melted, dragging chains that sparked with every step.
"Brother." His voice boomed across the realm, shaking the walls of the palace. "Did you think you could bind me forever?"
The demons cheered from the shadows, the rebel lords raising their voices in triumph. The balance had shifted. The forgotten name now walked free.
---
Liora's whip of thorns coiled into her hand. The crown on her brow pulsed wildly, as though warning her to run. But she did not move.
"Lucien," she whispered, "he's coming for you."
"No," Lucien said quietly. His gaze never left Azazel. "He's coming for us."
Azazel spread his wings, and the air burned. "I see your little queen, brother. Your mortal prize. She wears your thorns but not your fire. Shall I test her first?"
Before Lucien could answer, Azazel raised a hand. The chains that still hung from his arms snapped like whips, crashing toward the palace. Walls split. Flames guttered. The ground cracked beneath Liora's feet.
She lashed her whip of thorns, striking the chain aside. Sparks exploded, blinding her, but she stood unbroken.
"Test me, then," she shouted, her voice ringing across the abyss. "See if you like what burns back."
---
Azazel laughed, a sound like crumbling mountains. "Brave spark. But sparks die."
He hurled another chain, heavier, sharper, burning with white fire. Liora dodged, the crown's power surging through her veins, lending her speed and strength. She cracked her whip again, wrapping the chain, and pulled with all her might.
For an instant, Azazel staggered.
Lucien moved.
He rose into the air, silver fire erupting around him. His wings—vast and dark as night—unfurled, shadow swallowing flame. The two brothers faced one another above the abyss, light against dark, fire against fire.
"Go back to your chains, Azazel," Lucien said coldly. "Hell has no throne for you."
Azazel's laughter burned hotter. "And yet it bends beneath me already. Even your queen feels it."
His gaze cut to Liora, sharp and cruel. "Shall I see how long she lasts, when fire is not yours but mine?"
Before Lucien could answer, Azazel struck.
---
The world became fire.
Liora was thrown backward, the garden of roses exploding around her. Flames devoured blossoms, stone split apart, the sky burned white. Her crown seared her skin, pouring power into her blood just to keep her alive.
Through the storm, she saw Lucien and Azazel collide.
Lucien's silver fire met Azazel's white blaze, the clash splitting the abyss with thunder. Each strike shook the palace. Shadows fled. Demons screamed and scattered.
But Lucien was not untouched. Azazel's raw, unchained power pressed him back, forcing him lower, closer to the shattered ground. For the first time, Liora saw strain in the Devil's movements.
And she understood: Azazel could win.
---
Her roses called to her. Burn, they whispered. Burn with us.
Liora staggered to her feet, raising her whip. She lashed it into the soil, and fire erupted. The roses flared alive, hundreds of blossoms igniting in unison. Their flames surged upward, striking Azazel's wing.
He howled, twisting in the air. His attention snapped to her.
"Little spark." His eyes blazed brighter. "Then you will burn first."
He hurled a torrent of white fire.
Liora braced, but the crown pulsed—and the roses moved. Vines surged upward, weaving into a barrier of flame. The white fire struck, shattering the garden, but the barrier held long enough for Lucien to strike back.
Silver fire engulfed Azazel, driving him higher into the air.
---
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then Azazel's laughter echoed again. "You've grown weak, brother. Clinging to thorns and mortals. When I burn you both to ash, this realm will remember what true fire feels like."
With a beat of his vast wings, he vanished into the abyss, his laughter trailing like thunder.
The palace lay in ruin. The garden was ash. Demons hid in the shadows, whispering in awe and fear.
Lucien landed heavily beside Liora. His silver eyes burned, his breath ragged. "He's not yet at full strength," he said. "But he will be."
Liora's whip dripped fire, her gown torn, her skin bloodied. She looked at him, unflinching. "Then we don't wait for him to grow stronger."
Lucien studied her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
---
In the shattered silence, the rebellion whispered louder than ever. Azazel was free. The Devil had been forced back. And the mortal queen had stood against a god of flame.
The balance trembled.