CHAPTER 27: MONARCH

  The ancient Watcher turned Abyss crow lifted a finger to his lips.

  Samael’s gesture was delicate.

  Almost tender.

  As if Helel had merely spoken too loudly near a sleeping child.

  The message landed instantly.

  Helel, Yael, and Azriel all felt the same hollow drop in their stomachs, the same visceral understanding that something had shifted beyond retrieval.

  Not danger.

  Not yet.

  Worse than that.

  Control.

  Samael adjusted his hold on Suryel with unsettling familiarity, her body slack and warm against him.

  Then he ran a gloved hand slowly across her face, thumb brushing beneath her eye, fingers tracing her cheekbone.

  He was searching.

  Locked in with a focus that ignored the three armed, furious brothers standing just beyond striking distance.

  Then he hummed, amused, low in his throat.

  Found it.

  He lifted his hand from her face and held it up between them.

  Wet.

  Helel’s tears gleamed dark against the leather of Samael’s glove.

  Samael smiled.

  Not wide.

  Not sharp.

  Knowing.

  Helel went pale.

  A cold wind seemed to rush down his spine, settling deep in his bones.

  His hand shook as he raised his sword, the blade angling toward the one who had once stood beside him, who had once listened, advised, laughed.

  “Samael.” Helel said, voice ragged, fury vibrating beneath every syllable. “Give her back.”

  Samael snickered softly, like someone who had just learned a secret they would savor for a long time.

  “Milord,” He purred, eyes never leaving Helel’s face. “I sensed your resolve wavering.”

  He lifted his free hand and covered his mouth, as if hiding a grin he was pretending not to enjoy.

  “So,” Samael continued lightly. “I had to step in and help.”

  He shifted his grip and began to move, dancing backward across the fractured cavern floor.

  Suryel’s unconscious form swayed with the motion, her limbs slack, her head rolling slightly against his shoulder.

  Samael laughed.

  Gleeful.

  High.

  Unbothered.

  He twirled just out of reach, every movement calculated to taunt, to test distance, to measure how badly they wanted to lunge.

  All three brothers felt it.

  The tightening in their cores.

  The instinct to unleash everything.

  They held.

  They had learned this lesson the hard way.

  They knew Samael’s games.

  If even one of them lost control now, if a fight broke out while Suryel remained unconscious and human-fragile, she would not survive it.

  Not even with them.

  Samael turned and posed, angling Suryel’s body as if presenting her for a portrait.

  He locked her against his chest from behind, talons digging into her wrists just enough to leave crescents of pressure.

  Suryel stirred.

  A soft sound escaped her throat.

  “I will make you regret that.” Helel snarled, fire crawling visibly across the stone beneath his feet. “Return my sister. Now.”

  Azriel shot him a sharp look.

  It wasn’t anger.

  It was warning.

  Yael said nothing.

  His eyes scanned the cavern desperately, searching for exits that no longer existed, for angles that might buy them time.

  His hands flexed at his sides, counting options that kept collapsing into impossibilities.

  Samael tilted his head, thoughtful.

  As if genuinely considering the request.

  Then his gaze sharpened.

  “I don’t have to follow you.” He said coldly. “At last, you wavered.”

  Helel froze.

  Shock cracked through him so cleanly it almost hurt more than rage.

  “No rules,” Samael continued, a slow smile spreading across his face. “No King.”

  He bowed, sweeping into an exaggerated curtsy, wings flicking as he laughed shrilly.

  “Thank you, milord,” He drawled. “We can have as much fun as we want.”

  Then he snapped Suryel into motion.

  Her body jerked violently as Samael spun her through a twisted, mocking dance, humming the tune of a waltz.

  Her head lolled, her arms thrown wide as if she were nothing more than a doll.

  “How dare you!” Helel roared, launching forward.

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  “Don’t!” Yael shouted, dropping his dagger mid-motion and grabbing both of Helel’s arms, yanking him back with everything he had. “He’ll hurt her worse!”

  Helel fought him, his dagger flew across the floor.

  Instinct, fury, terror all crashing together.

  Yael reacted without thinking.

  His fist connected squarely with Helel’s cheek.

  The sound cracked loud in the cavern.

  Helel’s head snapped to the side.

  He staggered, stunned.

  Yael froze.

  For a single heartbeat, his arm remained raised, shaking, before he lowered it slowly to his side.

  Both of them trembled.

  Fear held tight inside discipline.

  Azriel stood frozen, silent shock written across his usually composed features.

  Samael beamed.

  Yael stepped closer to Helel, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he gripped his brother’s sleeve.

  “He’s enjoying your pain. Our pain.” Yael said urgently. “Stop and try to breathe, Helel.”

  Helel’s chest heaved.

  He forced himself to still.

  To listen.

  “But Suryel…” He whispered, his voice breaking as his eyes filled again.

  Yael’s gaze softened for just a moment.

  Then hardened.

  “Abandon your heart if you want to save her.”

  He slapped a steadying hand against Helel’s back, grounding him.

  Then he summoned his dagger back into his palm with a sharp flick of his wrist.

  He brought the blade close to his face, eyes locked on Samael.

  “Keep calm.” Yael said, voice edged with steel. “We are fighting an enemy here who was just like you.”

  There was no surrender in his expression.

  Only resolve.

  Samael stared.

  Really looked this time.

  He had never paid much attention to Yael.

  Never bothered to discover.

  Impressed.

  The Guardian had always been background noise to him.

  Logistics.

  Support.

  Replaceable.

  Samael yawned.

  Shrugged.

  Then he drew one talon slowly across Suryel’s navel.

  His bored humming resumed to an old lullaby as a thin line of red-black bloomed beneath his touch, shadow and blood mingling as if they had always belonged together.

  “No.” Helel choked. “Stop. Stop what you’re doing!”

  Yael tightened his grip on Helel’s arm, bracing both of them as they stood rooted, helpless.

  They couldn’t look away.

  They couldn’t move.

  For the first time, Helel understood something far worse than fear.

  He could no longer command Samael.

  Not now.

  Not when it mattered.

  Suryel’s blood seeped out slowly, but her face remained smooth, unreactive.

  The miasma inside her leaked into the air, thickening, condensing.

  It crawled eagerly onto Samael’s hand, coiling like a seed taking root.

  Samael smiled, proud.

  “Ah, I knew it.” Azriel said quietly, voice turning cold enough to cut. “So it was you.”

  “Yes.” Samael replied brightly. “It was me.”

  He pressed the miasma seed against Suryel’s temple.

  Then he let her go.

  She fell.

  “No!” Helel screamed, diving forward and catching her mid-drop.

  He cradled her face desperately, trying to pry the seed free—

  Pain exploded through his side.

  He gasped.

  Looked down.

  A thin, ragged blade of shadow and miasma had formed beneath her, piercing clean through him.

  “Sur… yel?” He whispered.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Get… a-way,” Suryel murmured, voice strained, fighting something inside herself. “Get. Away.”

  Her eyes closed again.

  Helel shook his head, trying to negotiate, to hold her anyway—

  Her leg folded inward.

  Then she kicked.

  The force was wrong.

  Unnatural.

  It pulsed outward like a shockwave.

  Helel flew backward, skidding hard across the cavern floor.

  Yael caught him, palm slamming into his back to stop the momentum.

  Azriel reacted instantly, throwing up a wall of fire as shadow fanned outward from beneath Suryel, lashing mercilessly at all three brothers.

  They huddled, bracing, waiting for it to pass.

  Helel went still.

  Realization crashed into him.

  She was awake.

  Fighting.

  And they couldn’t help her.

  Suryel pushed herself upright, movements slow and unsteady.

  Miasma and tears streamed together down her face, her eyes opaque and unfocused, barely open.

  Her lips parted and closed like she was trying to speak but couldn’t find the words.

  Samael stepped into place beside her, standing to her left.

  The way he used to stand beside Helel on the Abyss’s throne.

  Helel and Yael whispered together, horrified.

  “No.”

  “Yessss.”

  Samael answered gleefully, eyes wide, teeth bared.

  Azriel stared at him with a look that promised nothing good would ever come of this.

  Suryel took a step.

  Then another.

  Shadows pooled beneath her feet.

  Samael guided her lightly, a gloved hand barely touching her back, grin sharp with forbidden delight.

  “Meet our new Queen.” He announced.

  Helel shook, fighting himself.

  Yael’s toes curled in disgust.

  Azriel’s calm finally cracked, there was an audible sound from his jaw, rage burning silently beneath his eyes.

  “What did you do?” Helel shouted. “Undo it!”

  He tried to command again.

  Nothing.

  “Boohoo,” Samael said mockingly. “I don’t have to.”

  He checked his nails, steadying Suryel at the same time.

  “But you’re welcome to try.”

  He shoved her.

  Suryel flew backward, a stalactite slicing her skin as she vanished into the inner caverns.

  “SURYEL!” Helel screamed, launching after her.

  He shot Samael a look that promised extinction.

  Then he disappeared into the shadows.

  Yael and Azriel rushed forward—

  And stopped.

  Samael stepped into their path.

  Lazily.

  Deadly.

  The air shifted sharply, pressure popping in their ears, a razor-thin threat wrapping around them.

  “Sorry, children.” Samael sang. “Invitations only.”

  He drew a dark red and black rapier, its edge cold and hungry.

  “Why don’t you join my table?”

  Then—

  He attacked.

  .

  .

  .

  Somewhere in the Eternal Realm—

  Gabriel skidded across the lapis lazuli floor, barely catching himself on an ivory column.

  He panted, heart racing, eyes wide as he stared across the training courtyard.

  “We need to go!”

  Michael froze mid-swing.

  The Eternal Throne’s Commander dropped his training sword.

  They didn’t speak.

  Together, they ran.

  Author’s Note:

  *Laughing and doubled over, posing villain pose* >:D

  (Mozart’s Dies Irae Requiem plays menacingly in the background.) OwO

  Helel, How does it feel like to be the one chasing and protecting? Is this pay back for Yael? Absolutely yes. Hahaha :D