Chapter Ten—love
Daemon's POV
Showing her the memory room was a mistake.
I knew it the moment I walked away, leaving her standing there in that pocket of light I'd carved out of darkness. Knew it with the same certainty I'd known that falling for her the first time would destroy me.
But I'd done it anyway.
I made my way back to the throne room, my mind racing. The plan was simple. Corrupt her. Break her. Make her suffer the way I'd suffered. Use her as a tool to complete the Veilstone ritual and bring Heaven to its knees.
Simple. Clean. Perfect revenge.
Except nothing about Angelina had ever been simple.
The throne room was empty when I arrived. Good. I wasn't in the mood for Lilith's observations or Kael's reports or any of the thousand other demands on my attention. I just wanted to sit in the dark and figure out how to stop feeling like I'd just ripped open my own chest.
I dropped into the throne, letting my head fall back against the stone.
The memory sphere had been a gift. Something I'd created in the first century after the fall, when the pain was still fresh and raw. I'd poured every moment I could remember into that light, preserving it before time could dull the edges. Before I could forget what her smile looked like or the way she said my name.
My real name. The one I'd abandoned when I fell.
I'd gone down there maybe three times in the last thousand years. Each time intending to destroy it. To shatter the sphere and let those memories scatter into nothing. Each time unable to make myself do it.
And now I'd shown it to her. Had let her see what we were. What she'd chosen to forget.
Why?
The answer whispered through my mind, unwelcome and undeniable. Because I wanted her to know. Wanted her to understand that her corruption wasn't just about revenge. It was about making her feel a fraction of what I'd felt when she erased me from her existence.
If I was being honest, it was about making her remember. Making her care. Making her hurt the way I still hurt after a millennium of trying to stop.
Pathetic.
"My lord?"
I didn't open my eyes. "What, Kael?"
"We have a problem." His voice was tight. Worried. That got my attention.
I sat up. "What kind of problem?"
"The kind with wings and a flaming sword." He stepped forward, his shadow-form flickering nervously. "Michael is here. At the gates of Hell. And he's requesting an audience."
Every muscle in my body went rigid. "Michael is here? Now?"
"Yes, my lord. He came alone. Says he wants to talk."
Michael. Here. The angel who'd pronounced my sentence. Who'd stood by and watched as I fell. Who'd held Angelina back while I screamed for her.
The angel I'd once called brother.
"Let him in," I said.
Kael's eyes widened. "My lord, that's—"
"Let. Him. In." I stood, power crackling around me. "But take him to the lower hall. Not here. And Kael? Make sure our guest upstairs doesn't know we have a visitor."
"As you command."
He vanished, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts. Michael was here. Either this was a trap, or something had gone very wrong in Heaven. Either way, I needed to know what he wanted.
I made my way to the lower hall, a space I kept for negotiations with entities I didn't entirely trust. The walls here were plain black stone, no decorations, no flourishes. Just a table and two chairs facing each other across empty space.
Michael was already seated when I arrived.
He looked exactly as I remembered. Golden hair that caught light even in Hell's darkness. Eyes like molten amber. Wings that could have been carved from marble, so perfect and white they almost hurt to look at. He wore armor, but his sword was sheathed at his side.
A gesture of peace. Or arrogance.
"Daemon." He inclined his head. "Thank you for seeing me."
"I didn't realize I had a choice." I took the seat across from him. "You show up at my gates making demands. What am I supposed to do, turn away Heaven's attack dog?"
"I'm not here to attack." His expression remained neutral. Controlled. Classic Michael. "I'm here because we have a mutual problem."
"We don't have anything mutual."
"Don't we?" He leaned forward. "Tell me, does the name Veilstone mean anything to you?"
I kept my expression carefully blank. "Should it?"
"Please. We both know you've been searching for it. My scouts reported demon activity at all three known sites." He pulled something from his armor. The fragment I'd collected. Or one exactly like it. "Heaven is searching too. Which means you understand what's at stake."
"And what exactly is at stake, Michael? Enlighten me."
"The end of everything." He set the fragment on the table between us. Even here, it pulsed with that sickly gray light. "If someone gathers enough Veilstone and knows the ritual, they could collapse the barriers between realms. Heaven. Hell. Earth. All of it would merge into chaos."
"Sounds fun."
"It sounds like extinction." His jaw tightened. "I know you hate us. Hate me. Hate what we did to you. But surely even you don't want to destroy all of existence out of spite."
I picked up the fragment, turning it over in my fingers. "You think I'm trying to end the world?"
"I think you're trying to hurt Heaven. And this?" He gestured to the stone. "This is the weapon to do it. But you can't control what happens once you start. The collapse won't stop at Heaven's gates."
He wasn't wrong. The Veilstone was dangerous. Unpredictable. Using it to tear down Heaven would have consequences. Massive ones.
But I'd spent a thousand years planning this. I knew the risks. Had accounted for them.
Mostly.
"Why come to me?" I asked. "Why not just try to stop me? Send your armies. Have another war."
"Because war won't solve this." Michael's voice dropped. "Someone else is searching for the stones too. Someone who isn't you or us. Someone who already has at least two fragments, possibly more."
That got my attention. "Who?"