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“Abominations,” he spat, smoothing his robes. He stepped over the spot where they had vanished and walked toward me. “I should have known he would leave his dogs to guard his mistake.”

I backed away until my hips hit the broken altar. “Where is he?” I asked, my voice shrill. “Where is Remiel?”

He stopped almost right in front of me, looking down with a mixture of pity and profound disgust. “He is gone, Cassia. The angel has returned to where he belongs.”

“Liar,” I hissed. “He wouldn’t leave. We…we are bound.”

“Bound?” He let out a short, harsh laugh. “Do you think a night of lust in a ruin constitutes a bond? Do you think dragging an angel into the mud creates a tether?” He shook his head, his expression softening into something that terrifyingly looked like sympathy. “Remiel came to his senses, child, the moment the sun rose. He realized what he had done. Realized what he had become in your presence.”

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “He loves me.”

“He pities you,” Malakar said gently. “And he fears for his own soul. He is on his way to Heaven as we speak. To beg the tribunal for forgiveness. To scour your touch from his skin.”

The words struck me like physical blows. They targeted the deepest, most rot-infested insecurities I had nurtured since my fall.

Of course, he left. Of course, he regretted it. How could a creature of light love a monster who wept blood?

“Then if he wants to be clean, l-let him be clean,” I choked out, turning away.

“Not that simple,” he said, his voice dropping to a grave whisper. “He can wash away your touch, Cassia, but he cannot wash away the blood. The tribunal knows about Serion.”

I froze. “Wh-what?”

“Remiel killed the seraph. In the chaos you stirred within him, he struck down high celestial nobility. He has gone to confess that too. As his final penance, he seeks execution. He believes that by dying, he can atone for the mistake of falling for you.”

My knees buckled. I gripped the edge of the altar to stay upright. “He…he’s going to let you all kill him? Because of me?”

“He is going to let us unmake him because he cannot live with the guilt of what he did while under your influence. Unless…” He paused, the silence stretching. “Unless it wasn’t his fault.”

He reached into his robe and pulled out a scroll. It was not the pristine vellum of Heaven. It was rough, dark parchment, and binding magic radiated from it. He unrolled it on the altar next to me.

“What is this?” I asked.

“A way to give him the peace he seeks without an execution,” he said smoothly. “A confession. It states that you, Cassia Vex, seduced Remiel by using forbidden blood magic. That you clouded his mind, and that was the reason he killed the seraph. And that you confess to killing Valden. Sign it.” He held out a quill. “Sign it in blood. Let him believe it was all your doing. Let him have his sanctity back, and you… You can save his life.”

I looked at the scroll. It was a lie. A monstrous lie. But it was also a lifeline. If Remiel was truly gone, if he had chosen Heaven over me, then he was walking into his own execution. He had killed a seraph. There was no coming back from that. Unless…unless it wasn’t his fault.

“Why would you help him?” I asked, searching Malakar’s face. “You want order. Justice.”

“I want to save a brother from total annihilation,” Malakar said, his voice thick. “Remiel was the best of us before you broke him. I wish to give him a chance to heal. And you…” He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on the dried blood on my cheek. “You are corrupted, Cassia. Damned. What is one more sin on a soul as black as yours?”

The truth of it crushed me. He was right. I was a monster. The horns. The void in my eyes. I was the villain of this story, and Remiel was the hero who had fallen into my orbit.

“If I sign this,” I whispered, “he lives?”

“He lives,” Malakar said, “and returns to Heaven. He forgets you. And he finds peace.”

He would forget me. The pain of that thought was sharper than any blade, but it was a necessary one. If he forgot me, he wouldn’t mourn. He wouldn’t suffer.

I took the quill. It felt heavy in my hand. I brought the sharp tip to my thumb and pressed down. Blood welled, dark and rich. I pressed my thumb to the parchment. My blood sizzled as it touched the paper, and the magic bound the contract instantly. I dragged the quill across the bottom, signing my name.

Cassiel.

Malakar snatched the scroll away the moment I finished, rolling it up with a speed that betrayed his eagerness. He tucked it into his robe, his distraught expression now replaced by a cold, triumphant sneer. “It is done,” he said. “His slate is clean.”

“Now what?” I asked, feeling hollow.

“Now,” he said, stepping back, “I give you a head start.”