The message came not in words, but in sensation—waves of unrest that spoke to the divinity within me as we crossed unforgiving terrain beneath punishing skies. The storm felt like a warning.
One that had come too late.
God couldn’t part the veil to send an angel with word of this directly, though I sensed his desire to do so. The turbulent fury filling the clouds above us was a reflection of his wrath. But it was part of the deal he had made. No interference once we breached this plane, and as long as the Devil held to his end of the bargain, neither of them could interfere.
No guidance would come.
No light would be shed to steer our path.
Heaven was bound.
My brothers and I would face whatever new threat this was alone.
If Kahill spoke true—and I had no cause to doubt him—the gates between the two planes had opened. Demons now walk among us where they were never meant to tread.
What kind… how many… remained to be seen.
This revelation offset the balance and brought the potential consequences to the forefront of my mind.
Factions of soul-starved demons upon a war-torn Earth, countless souls teetering on the brink, and we had little hope of righting the balance if this manifested beyond our control.
Chaos would soon ensue.
The scales had begun to tip.
The stakes were not merely the fate of this world for the next thousands of years and Heaven’s ability to maintain order. But the fate of it for ages to come and Heaven’s dominion over order itself.
Should the final measure weigh in Lucifer’s favor, he would not merely claim victory. He would unmake the world from God's image and remake it in his own.
Such is his nature.
He would cast God down and crown himself in His place, subjugating God in ways beyond comprehension. His vengeance, having been fueled since being cast out, will not likely end before the concept of time does. And any retribution he exacts will not fall upon God alone. Angels. Man. All creatures. All worlds. All of creation will bend to his will.
Fallen lords will rise, bringing the deepest horrors of Hell’s realm into this one. Together, they will tear down this world as they had the underworld, and make every being suffer for every imagined slight they have carried since the fall.
All will be punished in the vilest of ways.
All will pay.
An undeserved reckoning with no end.
At that point, it will not matter what the contract states. Because the Devil will rule in God’s stead, and create and destroy as he sees fit to do. These thoughts, and darker still, are what consume me as we ride toward whatever doom awaits us.
Ash blankets the landscape in a thin, pale film. Our cloaks and masks protect us from the worst of it, but it still layers us in death more steadily as we race through the night.
Fiero, far larger and faster than Cali, keeps a measured gait to match our pace.
As Kahill’s bonded, she’s ridden beside us for ages. Yet in all that time, Cali has never grown comfortable with her presence—due in part to the heat radiating from her and the scorched earth left behind with each of Fiero’s hoofprints.
That, and Cali understands what most do not.
Fiero is no mere mount.
She is a living flame—an immortal beast bred from the hottest infernos of Hell. A gift from Kahill’s maker, and one with questionable loyalty.
A few angels in Heaven recognized this and called for her exile, though more for the fact that they saw her existence in their pristine, utopian realm as a blight in need of removal.
Seeing as Kahill treated her as if she’d been birthed from his own damn loins, he wouldn’t hear of it. And that put him further at odds with many of our brethren.
