"Why would you do all this for a human?" Cain sat back on the couch and took a slow drink from the glass of water she had given him.
"Are you assuming I am doing all this for you?" Lucifer blinked, her head tilting slightly as she watched him. Her gaze seemed to see more than his face, observing the subtle melody of his soul, which currently resonated with a tentative, genuine comfort.
Cain nodded. He followed up, explaining it was the first thought that had come to his mind. He then asked what benefit all of this could possibly hold for her as well. If that was the case, had she planned on making him her champion from the very beginning? And how had she even found out about this battle of champions?
Lucifer shook her head, denying the implication. "I only decided to make you my champion when the Mark awakened. The possibility did not exist before that moment." She paused, choosing her words. "I spoke to an Archangel the night before the Mark manifested. That Archangel declared war upon me."
She let that statement hang in the air for a moment. "And on that same night, Heaven declared that the selection for humanity's champion had begun."
He immediately followed with a new question. "How did you find out about the declaration if you are a fallen angel now? Wouldn't you be cut off from that kind of news?"
She stood and walked to the television, turning it on to a muted news channel. "The sky that night lit with an aurora borealis visible only to celestial eyes and those touched by the divine. It was a proclamation written in light across the firmament." She glanced back at him. "Based on the records within the Library of the Tree of Life, which I studied long ago, it is indeed the sign. A herald for the champions and their patrons."
Cain moved to sit on the floor near her feet, leaning against the couch. He let out a soft, appreciative sigh. "You basically know everything, don't you?" He then offered a small, awkward smile. "I have watched movies with female warriors. You do not look like a warrior at all at first glance."
A faint, almost imperceptible shadow crossed her features. "That is because, after the First Great War, I spent eons reading texts about the angels who survived. I studied strategy, history, and power until the pages blurred. I sought to understand what remained." Her voice grew quieter. "Until an angel appeared who understood how lonely it is to be me."
Cain felt speechless at her words, at the vast, silent weight of time and isolation they conveyed. He immediately changed the topic, feeling he had brushed against something too private. "What is Divine Divide?" he asked, his curiosity genuine. He was deeply curious about the nature of her abilities, but asked in a way he hoped felt casual, so she would not feel a formal line being drawn between them.
She smiled, a real one that softened the intensity of her golden eyes. "Divine Divide is merely an ability that allows one to cut through anything."
Cain absorbed this, the simplicity of the explanation belying its terrifying implication. Cut through anything. He then asked, his tone shifting to practical, "Can you teach me to harness my skills even more? Since I could not find the book, I need guidance. Real guidance."
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The scene switched.
A sleek black limousine glided to a silent halt before a grand, neon-lit club. The air here thrummed with a bassline felt more than heard. The building was a monument of polished black stone and shimmering glass, its entrance flanked by towering figures in tailored suits. Fancy people, adorned in glitter and silk, flowed in and out like a glittering, careless tide.
The rear door opened. Raphael emerged first, his impeccable dark suit blending with the night. He turned and offered a hand.
Gabriel took it, stepping out onto the pavement. She was dressed in a sharply cut pantsuit of charcoal grey, her silver hair a stark cascade against the dark fabric. The ensemble was severe, powerful, and utterly out of place amidst the club's opulent decadence.
Together, they walked toward the entrance, a pair of immutable stones in a sparkling river. Eyes darted toward them immediately. Not the casual glances of curiosity, but sharp, assessing stares. Patrons and staff alike had their attention caught, their pupils, upon closer inspection, flickering with a faint, unnatural crimson in the flashing light.
Gabriel noticed the collective gaze. She did not shy away. She met the stares head-on, her violet eyes sweeping across the crowd with a confidence that was itself a challenge.
They reached the velvet rope guarded by two massive bouncers. A sleek reception desk stood just inside the open doors, manned by two stunning individuals, a man and a woman, whose beauty was almost painfully perfect. Their smiles were professional, but their eyes held a predatory gleam.
Raphael stepped forward, but Gabriel placed a subtle hand on his arm, taking the lead. She approached the desk.
The female receptionist looked her up and down, her smile not reaching her cool, assessing eyes. "Good evening. Name, please?"
Before Gabriel could answer, the male receptionist spoke, his voice smooth as oil. "I must apologize, but this establishment has a strict dress code. It is a place for... refined leisure. Business attire is not permitted."
Raphael tensed, a flicker of divine indignation radiating from him. This was an insult to his Archangel. Gabriel stopped him with a slight shake of her head. Her own smile was polite, razor-thin.
"I would like to meet Lilith," Gabriel said, her tone even. "Is she here?"
The receptionists exchanged a glance. The woman's smile turned condescending. "Miss Lilith is currently occupied. She cannot meet with anyone without a prior appointment. What is your business with her, if I may ask?"
Gabriel's patience, worn thin by the day's tensions and the lingering ghost of Amelia's memory, snapped. Her polite grin widened into something far more dangerous. She pointed a finger, not at the receptionists, but in a slow arc that encompassed the glittering foyer. "I know every employee here is a demon. Or a succubus. Or some delightful variation thereof."
Her voice dropped, losing all pretence of civility, becoming a cold, clear blade. "You will call Lilith. Now. Or I will exorcise every single one of you back to the sulfur pits you crawled from. Personally."
For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then the two receptionists looked at each other and burst into laughter, the sound high and mocking, devoid of any real mirth.
The insult was a spark to tinder.
Gabriel's violet eyes ignited with a sudden, terrifying inner light.
An invisible, crushing force slammed into the two receptionists. They were ripped from their chairs and hurled backwards, pinning them against the ornate wall with enough pressure to crack the marble behind them. They gasped, their laughter choking into gurgles of terror, feet dangling inches from the floor.
Chaos erupted. Patrons screamed, scrambling away in a panic. From the shadows of the club, other employees emerged, their human disguises melting away to reveal glimpses of horn, scale, and hellfire in their eyes. They moved to attack.
Raphael did not hesitate. With a sound like unfurling silk, two vast wings of shimmering, opalescent light manifested from his back. In each hand, a sword of solidified holy energy materialized, burning with a pure, righteous flame. He stepped in front of Gabriel, a silent, formidable barrier.
The advancing demons hesitated, hissing in surprise and rage. An angel. Here.
With perfect, dramatic timing, a set of double doors at the far end of the hall swung open.
A tall woman entered. She stood six feet nine inches tall, a statue of breathtaking, menacing beauty. Straight, jet-black hair fell like a waterfall, its ends brushing the floor. She wore a dress of deepest crimson that clung to a form designed to captivate and destroy. Her eyes were the color of fresh blood, luminous and ancient.
Lilith. The First Woman. The Mother of Sin. The Original Succubus. The Ruler of Hell.
She surveyed the scene with an expression of amused exasperation. "Welcome to my sanctuary, Archangel Gabriel," she said, her voice a rich, smoky contralto that seemed to vibrate in the bones. She spread her arms in a theatrical, mocking bow. "What business does an Archangel have in the domain of demons?"
At her words, Gabriel released her telekinetic hold. The two receptionists dropped to the floor, coughing and clutching their throats.
Lilith flicked a dismissive wrist at her seething employees. "Stand down. Do not engage." She then offered a charming, apologetic smile to the few remaining, shell-shocked customers. "A minor misunderstanding, my darlings. Drinks are on the house tonight."
She turned her full, crimson gaze back to Gabriel as Raphael allowed his wings and swords to dissolve, though he remained poised and alert.
Gabriel stepped forward, the glow fading from her eyes, leaving only cold, determined violet. She met Lilith's gaze without flinching.
"I need my champion now," Gabriel stated, her words leaving no room for debate.