If one would have listened to it closely they would have heard the noise of his heart shattering echoing in the sickening crash when the glass of Devil's Snarl in Devereaux's hand met the unforgiving floor. It splintered into a thousand fragments, the sound slicing through the air like a knife. The crimson liquid slithered across the floor in twisted tendrils, staining the pristine surface with its dark hue.

A scream, a primal wail of anguish and despair pierced the silence. It echoed off the walls, a haunting melody of grief and loss. The world seemed to be frozen in a tableau of regression and heartache.

Devereaux slowly sank to his knees, the weight of his anguish pressing him down harder than the gravity pulling his fragile form. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, each drop a testament to the agony that gripped his heart. The shattered glass lay upon the floor like a graveyard of memories, each shard a painful reminder of what once was. Jagged edges gleamed in the dim light, casting ominous shadows upon the scene.

He saw his own reflection, distorted and fractured, mirroring the devastation that lay within. Reddened, bloody lips quivered with unspoken agony, the weight of his grief too much to bear. His intense amber eyes burned with a fiery rage, fueled by seething resentment and regret. The air was heavy with the scent of alcohol and despair, suffocating in its intensity.

For days and nights, he had cried himself to sleep, drowning his sorrows in the Devil's version of sherry, neglecting his duties and responsibilities. Through the haze of his agony, he caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure, a silent sentinel watching over him with unwavering loyalty. He could tell by the constant presence of that ivory coat and worry in honey eyes how restless he must be feeling, but the Dark Lord chose to ignore it, consumed by his own misery.

He had lost the only person who could see through his facade, who cared for him, the only person that saw past his veil, saw him more than just Death: the doom. He had missed his chance, consumed by fear and doubt, and now there was nothing left but regret. The image of Ada's confession to Gan replayed in his mind, tormenting him with its painful clarity. She had chosen another, and with each passing moment, the realisation cut deeper, carving a wound that seemed impossible to heal. She was officially Gan's now, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

Sudden shift in the air around him alerted Devereaux of a presence in his territory, and a figure materialised from the shadows, a haunting presence cloaked in silver moonlight. With each step, the soft whisper of silk echoed in the silence, a chilling melody that sent shivers down his spine.

"You wanted to see me, Dark Lord?"

Devereaux's heart clenched at the sound, his gaze meeting the piercing green eyes that gleamed like emeralds in the dim light. The figure's silver hair cascaded around them, a stark contrast to the darkness that enveloped them.

A shadow passed across the vast hall like an arrow, and the next thing Gan Gagagore knew was his breath cut off as vicious fingers curled into a tight grip around his neck. His muscles tensed instinctively, but he maintained his composure, facing Devereaux without so much as a flinch. Veins bulged on Devereaux's forehead, his eyes blazing with anger as he snarled.

"You fucking bastard!"

Gan had anticipated the move. Despite the chokehold, he held back, meeting Devereaux's fiery gaze with a cool, intense stare of his own. "I'm not the bastard here," he countered, his voice steady and unwavering.

Devereaux's howl echoed through the hall, eerie and hoarse, rasping like a chorus of unforgiven souls screaming in unison. Suddenly, the curtains covering the windows caught fire, the flames roaring to life with a fierce intensity. Gan's gaze flickered to the inferno, then back to Devereaux. He could feel the pressure around his neck increase, but he made no move to break free. Instead, he locked eyes with Devereaux, his expression unreadable yet filled with underlying tension.

"We talked about this, Devereaux," he said calmly, his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife.

"She is not some bait for you to toy with!" Devereaux's voice was a low growl, his words dripping with venom as he tightened his grip on Gan's neck. The flames danced wildly in the background, casting flickering shadows across the room.

"You have no right to dictate what she is or isn't!" he retorted, his voice cool and collected.

Devereaux's eyes blazed with fury as he leaned in closer, their faces inches apart. "She deserves better than you," he spat, his words laced with disdain.

"This is exactly why she turned to me. You 're so much like her. Fate. You're the one trying to use her, not me!" He retorted.

"Let her decide what's good for her. Stop interfering in others' lives. Being Fate doesn't mean you write their story. Being Death doesn't mean you decide when one dies. It's natural order. It needs no agents to impose its rules." Gan remained composed, his expression unchanged despite the pressure on his throat.

Devereaux could feel his resolve wavering. He was slowly but steadily losing it. He didn't want her to hurt. And Gan was the last place he would see as safe for Ada. He was running wild. And she had no clue. Taking his chance Gan managed to break free from Devereaux's grasp, stepping back cautiously. The air crackled with tension as the two adversaries faced each other, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills.

"She loves me. I love her too," Gan continued, his tone firm. "I know I promised I'll keep my distance, but if this is how she wants it, then let it be. I'll keep my promise. I'll free both of us from this torment."

"Will you?" Devereaux sneered. This snake was having too much faith in himself.

"As long as you help me." Gan met his gaze, his expression resolute. "Will you?"

"Aren't I doing enough already? Taking this pathetic role and unrealistic amount of burdens it shoulders, playing Death so you can roam freely? Aren't I doing enough?"

"One of us must do what I do. And one of us must do what you do. We agreed on this. Freeing this fate together."

Devereaux's chest heaved with emotion, torn between his desire to protect Ada and his their shared goal. "If anything happens to her, the first and last thing you'll be facing will be my wrath," he declared, his voice heavy with conviction.

"If I ever run wild, wild enough to hurt her, end me there. I permit you, brother."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Devereaux stood in front of his bedchamber, leaning heavily against the door as his resolve wavered. His gaze was as distant as it was empty, eyes fixed on a hanging lamp that cast a dim light over the dark corridor. He felt numb from the pain, both physical and emotional, and his thoughts were a chaotic whirlpool. The one person he desired to see the happiest had just asked him to end her life by his own hands. So consumed by his turmoil, he didn't hear the approaching footsteps until Kaya stood right beside him.

He noticed Kaya had changed into fresh clothes, and the maidens had treated his wounds as he had instructed. The white bandages peeking from his shirt and the healthier colour returning to his face spoke volumes about his improved condition. Devereaux couldn't deny a flicker of admiration for the half-selkie's bravery in coming down to hell for her.

"My Lord," Kaya greeted with a curt nod, "I heard Ada is awake."

"She is," Devereaux sighed, still leaning against the door, "She apparently is not very happy that I've saved her." The bitterness in his voice was palpable as he spoke.

"Did she tell you something?"

"A lot of things. Not a single thing you'd love to hear, granted."

"She must have told you that she's exhausted--she's fed up with this endless running," Kaya replied knowingly, and Devereaux wondered if she had had the same conversation with the selkie before.

"I knew someone like her once," Kaya continued, his voice softening with the memory. "It was too late when I realised he was drowning, and I couldn't save him." He paused, his eyes meeting Devereaux's with determination. "I'll talk to her."

Devereaux straightened up, his full height imposing as he faced Kaya. "You can?"

"I can try," Kaya replied, his gaze unwavering.

"Mm..." Devereaux hummed, his eyes narrowing slightly. He hadn't seen a selkie with a resolve as strong as him before. Those hazel eyes told no lies. Stepping aside he gestured towards the door. "Go on then. I'll wait in the hall if you need me," he said.

Kaya reached for the handle, but Devereaux's voice stopped him.

"Selkie..."

"Kaya..."

"Who is Ada to you exactly?"

"Ada?"

"Mm...

"Well, she's Auden's sister." Kaya turned to meet his gaze, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "And Auden is as important to me as Ada is to you."

"I see."

"Can I ask you for a favour My Lord?" Kaya asked.

"If you dare---"

"I do. Can you get me... a troop?"

The Dark Lords brows forrowed. "A... troop?"

"Yes." Kaya declared but the question lingering on the Dark Lord's features didn't ease out. So, Kaya proceeded, "I'm sure you're aware of it... Gan is keeping Auden in a lair in Sambli forest. "

"Gan can't survive alone. He's weak with the missing fragment of himself he burried in Ada the former Heiress of Romersai." Kaya aded. "He needs to be whole or he needs a body. Auden is his vessel to carry his fragile soul when nature demands it."

Devereaux's brows knitted. "I'm not quite sure what you're trying to tell me, selkie."

"I know someone as powerful as you can fight the snake and bring back Auden in a mere blink. But you wouldn't." Kaya spoke again. "And I know no matter how badly she wants to Ada can't either. She's weak right now."

"Get. To the. Point. Selkie."

"But me Dark Lord, I have nothing to lose. So, I might."

Devereaux considered for a moment. "This ain't gonna be easy, selkie. Auden is guarded by a pasuzu now."

"Kaya...is my name," Kaya interrupted.  "And yes that's why I can’t just dare alone to steal the treasure of a snake."

Dark Lord ponders for a moment. This bravery he was seeing was quite moving. Infectious even, in a way. It felt like a battle cry. He felt like the war itself.

"Selkie is what I prefer to call you, selkie." The Dark Lord echoed quite stubbornly that it almost unnerved Kaya. "But yes. A troop? I'd get you one. If you can talk Ada out of this, maybe." He added.

Kaya thought for a bit. "Deal!" He agreed, his gaze steady and sincere.

"Deal," Devereaux echoed, stepping aside to let Kaya enter.