Bonnibel's eyes widened at the voice, but before she could press further, the voice spoke again.

  "You dare show your face again, fallen angel?" it hissed, the words sending chills down everyone's spines.

  Perihelion bristled, but stood her ground. "I'm hardly fallen," she retorted, the edge back in her tone. "My place is not in heaven...thanks to you.”

  There was a shift in the air, almost like a silent scoff. "And here, I thought you learned your place." The voice was dripping with disdain now, the kind that only centuries can forge.

  Perihelion's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I'm no longer your slave, Azrael," she spat.

  Bonnibel froze, her face going white.

  "...Azrael?!"

  She looked at Perihelion with wide eyes. "As in…THE Azrael?! Firstborn of the Void? The one who tore Heaven apart in the Second Rebellion?!"

  Perihelion didn’t flinch. Just nodded once, jaw set like stone.

  Alice stared between them, feeling smaller than ever. "Wait, you knew a literal cosmic warlord and somehow lived to talk about it?”

  "Not just knew," Perihelion corrected, her tone still steely. "I used to be under him."

  Bonnibel let out a low, disbelieving whistle. "You never mentioned that part."

  Perihelion just gave a tight, humorless smirk. "Well, it's not exactly something I like to talk about."

  Bonnibel opened her mouth to respond, but the voice—Azrael's—beat her to the punch with a scoff.

  "Still defiant, I see.”

  "You always were stubborn like that," he continued, tone cold but almost...amused. "Even when you were mine."

  Perihelion bristled again, wings puffing up as if the very idea offended her. "I never belonged to you," she spat. "You took me. That's not ownership, that's slavery.”

  "Call it what you will," Azrael retorted, his tone still dismissive. "The fact remains that you were mine. I built you into the being you are today. I gave you purpose, I gave you power, I gave you everything."

  Perihelion laughed harshly, the sound almost bitter. "Oh, right, because your version of 'purpose' was so benevolent. Being a puppet. A symbol. A weapon.”

  "A weapon that I created to counter the Shadows Searching in the Night faction during the Black Mensa rebellion," Azrael bit back, his voice sharp with anger.

  The air turned icy, so cold that Alice could see her breath, even as Bonnibel took a cautious step back.

  Perihelion didn’t move.

  Instead, she lifted her gaze straight into the void-ripped sky, where Azrael’s three eyes still burned with ancient fury.

  "And yet," she said calmly—too calmly—"when I asked for mercy… when I begged you to spare the Lightweavers of Lumenara…you laughed. You called their lives 'expendable.' That's not purpose. That’s…cruelty.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  "There is no room for mercy in war," Azrael retorted, his tone cold and final. "It was a necessary sacrifice for the greater good."

  Perihelion's hands clenched into fists again, wings flaring furiously. "The greater good...?" she repeated, voice hoarse. "By killing innocent beings?! You're even worse than the rest of them, willing to sacrifice anyone who doesn't fit your twisted idea of perfection. Of order.”

  "And how do you think order is maintained, Perigee?" Azrael sneered, his tone almost mocking now. "By letting everyone do as they please? By tolerating weakness?"

  Perihelion was nearly shaking with rage now. "By understanding," she retorted, voice rising. "By accepting that differences make us stronger, not weaker. You think you're a ruler, Azrael? You're just a tyrant trying to play god.”

  "And you're just a fool," Azrael spat back, the void-ripped sky shuddering with his words. "How na?ve do you have to be to think your hope can trump my might?"

  Perihelion didn't back down an inch. "It's not about might," she said firmly. "It's about faith. It's about believing in something greater than yourself. That's what makes hope so powerful—"

  "Bah, you angels and your hope. Unlike the likes of Hallel, I don't need 'hope' or 'faith' from others to be powerful.”

  "I don't believe in hope. I am hope itself."

  The voice came from behind them.

  Not Azrael’s deep, echoing growl. This was different.

  Clear. Bright. Unshakable.

  They turned, and there, standing with a soft glow and gentle eyes, was Hallel, Leader of the Seven Celestial Virtues. The Archangel of Hope.

  Perihelion gasped. "Hallel...?”

  Hallel smiled, the action filling the air with a wave of comfort and warmth. Even the very ground seemed to feel it, the grass beneath their feet perking up at the angel's mere presence.

  "Hello, Perigee," she greeted, voice like music.

  Perihelion stared, speechless...until finally, she found her voice.

  "...I thought you were dead," she managed.

  Hallel chuckled gently, walking forward a few steps. "I am very much alive," she said warmly. "Just...not always in physical form."

  Perihelion blinked, still disbelieving. Bonnibel and Alice both watched in stunned silence.

  "But—" Perihelion started, struggling with the words. "Azrael said...he said he destroyed you…”

  Hallel turned her gaze upward—into the void-scarred sky—where Azrael’s three eyes still watched.

  "I was scattered," she admitted. "My essence divided, my presence silenced… but hope cannot be killed."

  A soft glow began to emanate from Hallel’s chest, a shimmering light, pulsing like a heartbeat.

  "It only sleeps. And when called upon… it rises again.”

  Perihelion had no words. Her heart was pounding, hope flaring inside her like a supernova.

  Next to her, Bonnibel and Alice were equally awestruck, staring at Hallel like she was a literal goddess. Even the air hummed, as if the world itself were celebrating the Virtue's return.

  Hallel took another step forward—then, gently, placed a hand on Perihelion's shoulder.

  "Perigee," she said softly, her voice brimming with kindness. "I've been watching you. For a long time."

  Perihelion looked up, eyes wide—and maybe, just a little wet.

  Hallel smiled. "You didn’t run from him. You stood your ground... and you kept the light alive.”

  Perihelion's heart nearly leaped into her throat. Was Hallel...praising her?

  "You believed when no one else would," Hallel continued, squeezing Perihelion's shoulder gently. "And your faith became a light in the dark. A beacon of hope.”

  Tears pricked the corners of Perihelion's eyes, and for once—she didn't try to stop them.

  "Thank you," she whispered, voice breaking.

  Hallel’s smile deepened. "No…thank you, Perigee."

  She stepped back—and raised both hands to the sky.

  "Now, Azrael..."

  Her voice changed.

  Still kind.

  But now—fierce. Powerful. Unshakable.

  "Let’s see who the real embodiment of hope truly is."

  The glow from Hallel's chest exploded outward. Not with violence, but with light so pure it made the stars weep.

  And in that moment…the heavens trembled.

  Because Hope had returned…and it was angry.

  Hallel's form began to shift, becoming more solid. More real.

  The soft glow around her intensified, until her entire figure was outlined in light.

  Azrael had gone shockingly still, his three eyes wide.

  Even from afar, Perihelion caught a glimpse of shock. And fear.

  Then, Hallel spoke, and her voice echoed like a thunderclap.

  "You have caused enough misery. Your reign of darkness…"

  She spread her arms wide.

  "...ENDS HERE.”