The cab ride from their drop zone was quiet, the sky washed in an early dusk haze. Ramiel barely spoke a word, his eyes drawn out of the window, watching the crowds of Istanbul blur past like waves—each person an echo of a world that had moved on without him.
The hotel stood on the corner of a bustling district just off Taksim Square, the kind of place where locals drank strong coffee and tourists took selfies with cats.
A broad sign read: Atlas Garden Hotel. Unassuming. Clean. A place where supernaturals and monsters could pretend, just for a while, to be human.
The cab came to a stop.
"Alright, everyone out," Tobias announced from the front passenger seat, flicking the driver a few lira. "I'd tip you more, buddy, but the heavens are currently cash-strapped. War budget."
If the man knew better, there was an atom of truth in the joke.
Ramiel stepped out first, his coat fluttering in the breeze, Alec behind him. Selene climbed out next, her eyes scanning the hotel entrance like she expected it to be booby-trapped.
Tobias spun around with his usual grin. "This it, then? The great sanctuary of rest and overpriced minibar peanuts?"
"I like it," Alec said, managing a small smile.
"You would, kid. Bet you've never had hotel breakfast that wasn't in a refugee camp."
Inside, the Atlas Garden was cozy, modern—marble floors, soft jazz playing from hidden speakers, and a concierge who gave the group a raised eyebrow but said nothing. Ramiel signed in using a name that hadn't meant anything for a century.
Selene looked over. "You okay?"
He didn't answer right away. The events of Heaven still burned under his skin. The pact. Elyon's silent judgment. The sacrifice demanded. He felt it—something was unraveling, and it had a name. Vladmir.
Tobias dropped his duffel on the lobby floor with a loud thud. " If anyone snores, I swear by the gods, I'm sleeping in the bathtub."
"You'll sleep where you're told," Ramiel murmured.
Tobias grinned. "Love that leadership style. Very post-apocalyptic Messiah."
Upstairs, the room was basic—two double beds, one couch, and a cracked window that faced a city blinking with neon. Alec collapsed onto one bed. Selene sat near the window, her fingers fidgeting with her phone.
Ramiel stood still for a long time, facing the skyline.
Tobias broke the silence. "So… do we order pizza or start planning who dies first in case of a demon ambush?"
No one answered.
Ramiel finally turned, slipping on a black jacket he found in his bag—modern clothes now. No more cloaks. No more ceremonial robes. He looked like a man from the world again, not a forgotten prince.
"I have to go," he said.
Alec looked up. "Where?"
Ramiel hesitated, then spoke quietly. "To the one place I've avoided since all of this began. I need to see Vladimir."
Selene stood. "You think something's wrong?"
"I know it is."
Tobias flopped onto the couch and stretched. "Great. While you're off brooding with a bloodsucker, I'll run out and teach this kid how to gamble with salt packets."
"No," Ramiel said. "You're all staying here. Out of sight. I'll return by nightfall."
"Sure," Tobias said with mock salute. "Go storm a vampire castle, do your broody hero thing. We'll just chill here, maybe summon a lesser demon for snacks."
Alec's voice was quiet. "Be careful."
Ramiel gave him a look that was almost—almost—soft.
Then he was gone, stepping out into Istanbul's heartbeat, the night waiting like a curtain.