Cities rarely sighed in relief.
They groaned.
They staggered.
They remembered.
And this city… remembered Malvane.
The cathedral no longer thrummed with stolen faith. The oppressive wrongness had lifted, leaving behind silence. An uncomfortable, echoing kind, full of the knowledge that terrible things had happened and far more terrible things had been prevented only at the last possible moment.
People gathered. They stared. They whispered.
They tried to understand.
They failed.
But word spread anyway.
Not all of it true.
Enough of it close enough to the truth.
---
Aureline did not waste time.
Her heels clicked steadily along polished floors as she spoke to a waiting council, attendants, and several very alarmed officials. Not frantic. Not panicked. Purposeful.
Malvane was handled. Faith stability restored. Catastrophe avoided.
Now came the important work.
Owning the narrative.
"We will support the clergy," Aureline declared. "The innocent. The frightened. The ones who doubted but did not fall. Our stance will be benevolence. Compassion. Stability."
She smiled.
It was not kind.
"But the Church as an institution? We do not move against it openly. We do not challenge belief. We challenge corruption. Carefully. Precisely. We name rot without burning the tree."
Her advisors nodded.
This wasn't charity.
This was strategy.
Power had shifted today. And Aureline intended to make sure it shifted in the direction most beneficial to… well…
Her.
But not at the city's expense.
She did still care.
Mostly.
…Probably.
---
Varros reacted very differently.
He lounged.
Elegant, amused, sipping something expensive while watching a shaken city from his elevated vantage point, as if reality itself were a play put on for his private entertainment.
"Well," he drawled lazily, "that was spectacularly horrifying."
A servant trembled as Varros casually flicked a playing piece on a game board beside him.
"Malvane overreached. And was corrected," he mused. "A shame. He could have been useful."
He smirked slightly.
"Now everyone knows he was a fraud, a tyrant, and an absolute cautionary tale. Deliciously inconvenient for the Church, useful for certain agendas, and—let's be honest—morbidly fascinating."
Someone asked if he planned to stabilize the region further.
He shrugged.
"I'll… assist," he said lightly. "Because chaos is fun until it isn't. And because if the city collapses entirely, all that delightful maneuvering opportunity becomes ash."
He always helped…
just enough.
Enough to remain relevant. Enough to keep leverage. Enough to look noble.
Never enough to clean his own conscience.
Assuming he had one.
---
Meanwhile, in quieter places…
Aiden sat.
Not shaking. Not shattered.
Just…
realizing the world was heavier than he had hoped.
Liora leaned quietly against a wall beside him, hands clasped tight. There was still tension lingering in her posture, like her blood and soul had only just stopped screaming from witnessing a crime against everything sacred.
Seris stood near them. Guarding without hovering. Grounding without forcing comfort.
They didn't speak for a long moment.
There was nothing to say that wouldn't sound too fragile or too cruel.
Finally Seris exhaled.
"It's over," she said gently.
Aiden nodded.
But his expression didn't ease.
Because over didn't mean resolved. Over didn't mean clean.
Over meant no more screaming.
Everything else remained.
---
Inkaris appeared exactly the way demons did when they wanted to look like they had things under control:
Composed. Unmoved. Completely fine.
Which meant he was lying by omission.
"You stabilized the church," Seris said. "Ended a corrupted ascension. Established a new category of living nightmare. And ensured the city didn't collapse in a faith implosion."
Liora added quietly:
"That was… costly."
Inkaris smiled pleasantly.
"Was it?"
Aiden frowned.
His instincts whispered.
Yes.
Yes, it was.
The universe never let something like that happen without extracting something in return.
But Inkaris was a demon.
And demons did not bleed publicly.
So he simply adjusted his coat and changed the subject with beautifully direct subtlety.
"What matters," he said, "is that the problem is resolved. The Duchess has leverage, the Church has a wound it will never forget, the city lives, and you three…"
He looked at them each in turn.
"…learned something important."
They had.
None of them liked the lesson.
But they had learned.
---
High above the city, watching the world move forward in trembling uncertainty, Caelum lazily floated through unseen perches like someone enjoying a show he hadn't paid to watch.
He appeared beside Inkaris without materializing so much as being suddenly there.
"Inkaris," he greeted simply.
The demon didn't jump.
That meant he had expected him.
"Caelum," he replied just as calmly.
A casual silence lingered.
Then the fallen angel spoke softly.
"That punishment wasn't cheap."
Inkaris didn't answer.
He didn't deny it.
He didn't explain.
He didn't need to.
Caelum smirked.
"You always were annoyingly sentimental beneath the contract demon routine."
Another silence.
Then Caelum's tone dropped. The smile remained, but the seriousness sharpened.
"There are not many of us left," he said quietly. "Real wish granters. Ones who follow the rules and still… care enough to enforce them properly. Too many gods think they're above it. Too many mortals think desire is harmless. Too many devils think cruelty is a hobby."
His eyes lingered on Aiden below.
"And that one… will matter."
Inkaris didn't disagree.
He just straightened his sleeve.
"I know."
Caelum gave a small theatrical sigh.
"Well then. Don't die stupidly before I get to enjoy watching."
He didn't threaten. He didn't scold.
He simply reminded.
Playful.
And very, very serious.
Then he vanished back into the nothing that watched everything.
---
Inkaris finally allowed himself a breath.
Not pained.
Not broken.
…but perhaps slightly tired.
He looked back toward Aiden.
Toward Liora.
Toward Seris.
So much to do.
So much still ahead.
And he would keep going.
Because that was the cost he chose to pay.
---