As an angel trained to fight the forces of demons, Chiara knew to not let them take her alive, but she never expected to survive her first battle. Trapped in the depths of hell and tortured, only one thing is keeping her alive - the demon kept priso...
He had failed. Logan had failed her, and now she was lost to him. She was lost to herself. Chiara had turned, in the end, her angelii broke and became a Tenebrist after everything he had done to try and save her, everything they had gone through together.
It had been for nothing. Worse—she was lost to herself, trapped in a monster whose only purpose was to kill and destroy, the epitome of Hell and all the demons in it.
He had no doubt that his Chiara was in there somewhere, watching, knowing what the monster did, and unable to stop it.
She would kill demons. She would kill angels. She would tear the world apart without a demon lord as her master to reign her in.
And he was dying on the floor of Lust, bleeding out from the wounds War gave him. His legs didn't work, his blood pooled around him, making the marble slippery and sticky. He gasped for air while his lungs filled with fluid, drowning him. Pulling himself along with broken arms, he aimed for the nearest tunnel door.
If he could make it to the tunnel, there was a chance he wouldn't die. But he had failed Chiara, and he couldn't save her anymore.
Given the chance, he could only end her.
After only a few feet in, he collapsed, unable to push himself any further. He wouldn't make it to the tunnels. His blood pooled out around him, sticky, hot, and wet on his cheek pressed to the floor.
He couldn't even scream his rage.
He gasped to keep filling his lungs, despite knowing he had failed and there was nothing he could.
A gut-churning pop sounded from his shoulder. Bone snapped into place. Suddenly, itching, burning heat swept through his muscles and organs. He was healing.
By that fucker, the Sleeping King of Hell, being a Duxtori, one of the demon lords had its perks.
The Hall alone had enough power to heal him, and fast. As he had seen with Zeigfel, whose wounds stitched together almost as fast as Logan hacked holes in him, Hell was putting him back together faster than he knew possible.
In seconds, he was able to pull himself to his feet. A few more seconds and he hobbled forward—only to pause at the threshold while Hell continued to suffuse him with its power.
"Chiara," he whispered, her name a prayer on his lips.
But Chiara was gone—lost to the monster, Tenebrist. He had watched, helpless, when her angelii broke and shifted to this final form.
Only her hair, a rich auburn brown, remained the same. The rest of her changed. Wings were doubled and flashed silver like icy blades in the sunlight. Her skin was mottled white, light blue and grey, covered in a sparkling frost, but writhed with something horribly alive and hungry underneath. Her face was transformed demon-fashion to a too large mouth that snapped with too many teeth, her hands ended in animal claws.
Dark horns curled from her brow and an icy crown of black and white entwined her head, cascading down her back between the double set of wings.
Still too weak to fly, he watched as she razed an entire legion of demons, leaving them covered in hoary frost and contorted in their final positions of agony.
Angels were beginning to swoop in closer, obviously not sure how to face this threat, but willing to die trying.
His Chiara would attack them, too, soon enough. The poison in his heart spiked him with hot barbs at that thought, spreading further into his body. The more he loved, the more he was dying.
He didn't have time to waste. Think. Plan. Attack. That was all.
He breathed deeply, soaking in the regenerating powers of Hell and the Halls of Lust. The air smelled of smoke and incense from the pit behind him, crisp mountain air, and something else—not quite floral. Almost like Chiara herself. Dew on grass.
He shook it off.
Strength flooded him. He flexed his hands. They burned with power.
The only part of him not healing was that ever-growing sickness in his chest of the poison that would certainly kill him no matter how long he stayed in Hell.
Love.
He chuckled low and resigned.
There it was—he would die today. Better to die fighting, than hiding.
Chiara was in that monster somewhere, and he loved her, his angel.
Watching the Tenebrist warily, he crept onto the ledge. There was no way he could face her in battle. She was too strong. Without the shackles from a demon lord to control her, there was no fighting her fairly.
But fighting dirty was nothing new to him.
That faint scent, the dew on grass one, caught his nose again. It was stronger with the breeze.
Breeze? There was no breeze on the edges of Hell...
For the first time, he saw the newly constructed bridge arching up from the balcony and through a massive portal.
And at the other end of the portal, lay a charred and broken garden and half-smashed temple of white marble. He wanted to smack his head.
That was it. That was the answer. This was how he would end that monster, the Tenebrist that held his Chiara. Because he was sure she was in there, and he couldn't leave her trapped like that.
He had to plan his move, time it perfectly.
He might have do the one thing he swore he never would, as well. His daemonium shivered in delight at the thought and tried to break free. Logan held it down. That bastard wouldn't stand a chance against the Tenebrist. This would take cunning and luck, not brute force.
I'm coming, Chiara. I swore I would catch you, if you ever fell.
*** Logan isn't giving up, not so long as he's alive. Thank you for reading!!! ***
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