The Underworld stretched endlessly before us, its shadows twisting and writhing as if alive, pressing against us with an oppressive weight. Each pounding stride of Sleipnir's eight legs reverberated through me, a relentless rhythm of agony that amplified the searing edges of my wound. I gritted my teeth, refusing to yield, my arms tightening around Belial's limp body. His slumped form was a chilling reminder of how fragile our victory—or survival—truly was. We were walking a razor's edge, teetering on the brink of utter loss. Yet, even in the depths of despair, I found an anchor: Loki.

There was something in his resolve that kept me going. It wasn't just his cunning or his audacity—it was his sheer adaptability, his ability to laugh in the face of chaos as if he were born of it. Perhaps he was. For Loki, destruction was familiar territory; he thrived in its midst, reshaping it to suit his needs. But for me? Losing so much, so quickly, was unthinkable. My existence had been one of control, of holding power firmly in my grasp. Now, I was stripped bare, with only fragments to cling to.

And yet, Loki's presence made it bearable. His calm determination, his refusal to falter, lent me strength I didn't know I had. It didn't erase the grief or the fear, but it shifted something within me, made the impossible seem, if not probable, then at least survivable. In the chaos of the Underworld, where shadows threatened to consume us whole, I clung to that fragile hope—and to him.

At once, as I was clutching onto Belial, surroundings slowly became far too familiar. The moment Loki began running down a familiar flight of stairs, I knew where we were. As soon as we reached the bottom and the many doors, we came to an abrupt halt.

"Uh... what is this?" Loki inquired from inside the horse, bewilderment evident in his voice. Understandably so. I slowly rose up to a sitting position, making sure not to kick Belial off. Weakness was already creeping into my bones more but I tried to push forward the best I could.

"It's...ugh," I grunted as the pulsating pain struck my side. "You need luck to guess which door leads to a correct path. I would've been able to do it if it hadn't been for the unfortunate circumstances," I yelped as the pain began spreading.

"Lay down, Asmo." Loki ordered with a gentle yet firm tone. "Thank you for the heads up though. I'll take it from here." I obeyed his orders as I didn't want to sit anyway and I laid back down over Belial.

"You have an insane amount of luck, Loki," I mumbled. "You won a poker game against me, remember that."

Loki let out a short, amused huff, though his voice carried an edge of concentration. "Beating you in poker isn't exactly a divine feat, Asmodeus. You've got the worst bluff in the entire Astral."

I wanted to retort, but another sharp pulse of pain cut through me, forcing me to clamp my jaw shut. I felt Sleipnir shift beneath us, his muscles rippling as Loki steered him toward the first door.

"Let's hope my charm extends to guessing games," Loki said, his usual confidence faltering just enough to let me know he wasn't entirely sure of himself. "You said luck, not logic, so I'm going with my gut."

"Well, your gut rarely steered us wrong," I said. "Focus and try. If you guess wrong, we are doomed." I grumbled, finding it progressively harder to speak. I carefully uncovered my side to take a look and I almost fainted when I saw the wound was spreading towards my chest. However, I decided not to say anything so as not to distract Loki.

Loki didn't respond immediately, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Sleipnir shifted beneath us, restless, as if sensing the gravity of the situation. I could feel Loki's hesitation, a rare crack in his otherwise unshakable facade.

"Doomed, huh?" he finally said, his tone lighter than the tension demanded. "No pressure, then."

I managed a weak chuckle despite the pain gnawing at me. "You're good under pressure, Loki. Better than me, at least. So... focus."

His silence stretched, and I could practically hear the gears turning in his mind. As Sleipnir approached the first door, I tilted my head back, stealing a glance at the golden mare's imposing form. Loki wasn't just guessing—he was calculating, weighing something only he could see or feel.

But my attention didn't linger on him for long. My gaze dropped to my side, where I cautiously pulled back the shredded fabric of my clothing. My breath hitched. The wound wasn't just spreading—it was alive, dark tendrils creeping toward my chest, pulsating with every labored beat of my heart.

I fought to keep my face neutral, swallowing down the panic rising in my throat. Telling Loki wouldn't help. He had enough on his plate already. The last thing we needed was for him to lose focus because of me.

"Still alive back there?" Loki called, his tone sharp but edged with concern.

"Barely," I croaked, forcing a smirk. "But don't let that distract you. Pick a door."

He muttered something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, "Stubborn idiot," before Sleipnir took another step forward.

I exhaled a shaky breath, clutching Belial tighter as Sleipnir moved on. My vision blurred for a moment, and I had to blink hard to keep the world from tilting. The spreading wound was winning, and my strength was fading fast.

I closed my eyes, praying silently to whatever higher force might still be listening. I knew if he guessed one wrong, we'd be trapped in here for eternity. And, eternity was rather long in Astral.

"This is the one," he suddenly declared and I felt a jolt of anxiety combined with excitement. "Except you have to reach out and open it. Somehow."

Crap, I thought. I forgot a horse could not open a door. With all my might, I pushed myself off and reclaimed the sitting position, as I reached over the mare and clasped onto the doorknob and pulled.

The door resisted at first, its handle cold and unyielding beneath my trembling grip. My muscles screamed in protest as I leaned forward, fighting the unbearable pull of my wound and the weight of exhaustion dragging me down. For a fleeting moment, I thought it wouldn't budge.

"Any day now, Asmo," Loki quipped, though his voice was taut with urgency.

"Do you want to do this?" I hissed back through clenched teeth, summoning every ounce of strength left in me. With one final pull, the door groaned and gave way, swinging open with a suddenness that almost toppled me. But in that long hallway, I saw the very imposing, ominous and very familiar red door.

My voice softened. "That's it. That's the one."

Relief surged through me, but it was short-lived as a sharp pain stabbed through my side, nearly knocking the breath out of me. I slumped back against Belial, clutching the edge of Sleipnir's mane to steady myself.

"What am I to expect?" Loki asked, caution painting his voice.

"Samael."

"Who?"

I sighed, "Just go, Loki."

Loki hesitated, the weight of my words hanging heavily in the air. "Samael," he repeated, testing the name as though it were a riddle he needed to solve. His usual bravado dimmed, replaced by something rare—uncertainty.

I leaned my head back, exhaustion pooling behind my eyes. "The Archangel of Death," I clarified, though every syllable was a struggle. "Guardian of this path... and one hell of a negotiator, if I remember correctly."

Loki groaned, his frustration palpable. "Great. Just what we need. Another celestial bureaucrat."

"Not... quite," I muttered, my breath hitching as another pulse of pain surged through me. "He's not here to bargain. He'll test us, Loki. Test you. He guards the veil between realms—let's just say he doesn't appreciate visitors."

"Well, that's comforting," Loki said dryly. He adjusted Sleipnir's pace, the mare's steps slower now, cautious. "And you decided to drop this bit of wisdom after we crossed the threshold?"

I managed a weak smile despite the agony spreading through my chest. "Didn't think we'd make it this far."

Loki let out a frustrated huff but didn't push further. The shimmering expanse around us grew colder, the air thinning as if the very atmosphere resisted our presence.

"Just don't piss him off," I whispered, barely able to keep my head up. "Or we're both dead. Permanently."

"Exciting," Loki's voice dripped with sarcasm as he approached the door slowly. "Open," he ordered flatly and I pushed myself off again and repeated the action like the last time. This time, however, I decided to continue sitting up as I was about to meet a celestial bureaucrat, as Loki had described him.

I took a deep breath in as we slowly entered, the entirety of Samael's office was the same like the last time I had seen it. However, Samael was seated at his table, his expression unreadable as he was glaring at us. If looks could kill, his would've been fatal.

Samael's piercing gaze locked onto us, his hands folded neatly atop the desk. He radiated an unsettling calm, the kind that spoke of absolute control, and it made my skin crawl. If Loki's swagger was a defiance of order, Samael's presence was the embodiment of it.

"I see you've taken liberties with the veil," Samael said, his voice smooth yet cutting, like the edge of a finely honed blade. "An almost dead demon clinging to borrowed time and an ill-advised god reduced to riding my halls like a thief in the night. How quaint." He paused then added, "oh and another almost dead demon."

"Good to see you too," I drawled.

Samael's glare deepened, his eyes narrowed to slits. "I find little room for sentiment, Asmodeus. You know this. What I do find room for, however, is my patience—and yours is dangerously thin."

From where I slumped against Sleipnir's flank, I mustered what little energy I had. "We didn't come here for pleasantries, Samael," I croaked, my voice weaker than I intended. "We need your help."

Samael's gaze flicked to me, his expression softening only slightly before returning to its glacial state. "Help? Is that what you think you deserve, Asmodeus? You, who has already breached boundaries you should never have crossed?"

I bristled despite the pain wracking my body. "I didn't come here to grovel. I came because you're the only one standing between us and oblivion. And if you're going to lecture me, make it quick—because I don't have time for your moral high ground."

The room fell deathly silent, the weight of Samael's authority pressing down on us. Then, to my surprise, his lips curled into the faintest shadow of a smile.

"Bold words for someone who's bleeding out," he said coolly, rising from his seat. His massive frame loomed over us as he approached, his scythe materializing in his hand with a whisper of power. "Very well, Asmodeus. Speak quickly."

"I believe Loki will explain this better, I am, as you said, almost dead," I grumbled as I laid back down as my vision began to blur from the stress and pain that were taking over my whole body. Sielpnir shifted under me as he spoke gently.

"I'm sorry, Asmodeus. I must shapeshift back into my original form. It'll make it easier for negotiations. He won't take me as seriously while I'm a horse." Loki explained softly through a light chuckle.

"Of course," I muttered, my words slurred as I fought the creeping haze of unconsciousness. "Because nothing screams 'serious negotiations' like a talking horse."

Loki chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly warm despite the dire situation. "Samael, will you please help Asmodeus up? And also Belial."

There was a short silence and I could almost feel Samael weighing his options between helping and kicking us right out. I heard him huffing before feeling strong arms wrap around me as he picked me up and put me down on a chair he was previously sitting in. Then he proceeded to do the same for Belial but instead he let him rest on the floor instead.

"I apologize. I offer no beds." He mumbled and I could swear there was an actual embarrassment.

"It's fine," Loki said then suddenly his form stretched and twisted, light and shadow weaving together in a display that would've been awe-inspiring if I weren't barely holding on. When the transformation was complete, Loki stood beside me in his usual form—tall, sharp-eyed, and exuding the kind of chaotic confidence that had saved us time and again. And I almost fell for him all over again.

He dusted himself off, rolling his shoulders as if settling into his own skin. "There, much better. Now, Samael," Loki said, turning his full attention to the Archangel, "before you start waving that oversized letter opener around, let's talk."

Samael's gaze remained cold, unimpressed by Loki's bravado. "Talk quickly," he said, his grip tightening on the scythe.

Loki raised his hands in mock surrender, the picture of calm diplomacy. "We're not here to challenge your authority, nor to trifle with your precious veil. We're here because the balance of realms is at stake. And, frankly, we wouldn't have even been here had it not been for already broken veils everywhere."

Samael's eyes flickered briefly with something unreadable—curiosity, perhaps, or disdain. "I'm well aware of what's going on in your realms. But as Asmodeus knows, as I've told him the last time he was here–" he made a pause just to send me a knowing glance, "there's no way out through here."

"Unless Abaddon comes," I grumbled as I leaned myself onto the desk, propping my head with my palm.

"But he's not here and, frankly, I don't think he'll want to come." Samael responded and I raised an eyebrow.

"I beg to differ. He orchestrated us coming here." At that moment, both of them turned their attention to me. They didn't know. Loki was not aware and Samael... did not know? It was surprising considering that one would assume he had knowledge of most dealings in Astral.

Then, Loki stepped closer, deciding to flip the situation as if he had been aware of the whole ordeal this entire time. "If all this falls apart, it won't just be our mess. It'll spill into every realm—including yours." He gestured to me, still slumped against the desk, "And as much as you'd love to let Asmodeus bleed out on your floor, you know he's crucial to stopping this."

Samael's gaze shifted back to me, his expression unreadable. "Crucial, you say? He looks more like a liability."

I mustered what little strength I had, forcing myself to meet Samael's piercing stare. "Liability or not," I rasped, "you know this isn't something you can ignore. The Devil's playing with forces even you can't afford to overlook. And if you don't help us, there won't be a veil left to guard."

Samael clenched his jaw as his gaze was darting between Loki and me. He was unsure, I could tell. I just couldn't understand why although it could've been due to my own powerlessness at this particular moment.

"Asmodeus." He suddenly spoke, his whole frame turning towards me. "You knew very well what Lucifer's death would entail. I warned you. There is nothing I can do now. This is the price we all pay."

Silence took over. The words he spoke rang undeniable truth as both Loki and me stared at Samael, trying to find one bit of silver lining in all of this. Deep down, I knew it would've come to this. There was no way out once you set things in motion. Actions always had consequences and in Astral, those consequences had always been dire.

Loki looked over at me as if begging me to say something, to counter his argument. I locked my gaze with his and just stretched my lips into a thin line. He frowned lightly, still trying to grapple with the situation we had found ourselves in.

"So... what are you saying?" Loki asked however it sounded more like he was in denial.

Samael exhaled slowly, his shoulders rising and falling as if he carried the weight of the cosmos itself. "I'm saying that this was inevitable," he said, his voice cold but laced with something deeper. I couldn't tell what though. "Lucifer's death was the final crack in the dam. The Devil has seized that moment to unleash forces even I cannot restrain. What you seek to undo cannot be undone, not without cost."

Loki's frown deepened, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "There's always a way," he snapped. "You're Samael, the Archangel of Death, the damned gatekeeper of balance! Don't tell me you're just going to sit here and let everything fall apart!"

Samael's eyes narrowed, his imposing figure stepping closer to Loki. "Mind your tone, Trickster," he said, his voice sharp as the edge of his scythe. "Do you think I enjoy watching the collapse of what I have guarded for millennia? The balance is my charge, my burden. And now, it teeters on the brink because of your reckless machinations and his inability to see the bigger picture."

His words struck me like a blow, even as I remained slumped against the table. My jaw tightened, but I had no strength left to argue. The truth in Samael's accusations cut deeper than any blade ever could.

Loki, however, was unrelenting. "We didn't come here for a lecture, Samael. We came for solutions. If you're so burdened by all this, then help us fix it! Or are you content to let the Devil rewrite the rules while you sit here polishing your scythe?"

Samael's eyes blazed with fury, but before he could respond, I forced myself to speak. "Enough," I rasped, my voice a shadow of its former strength. "Loki's right... to an extent. If there's nothing we can do to stop this, then tell us. But if there's even the smallest chance, anything we can leverage, you owe it to the balance you claim to protect to share it."

The room grew still, the tension thick enough to suffocate. Samael studied me, his piercing gaze cutting straight through whatever remained of my resolve. Then, with an almost imperceptible sigh, he lowered his scythe.

"There is... one possibility," he said, his voice low and measured. "But it is dangerous, even for beings such as you. And should you fail, the consequences will make even this chaos seem merciful."

Loki's expression shifted from anger to wary curiosity. "Dangerous? Consequences? Sounds like a typical Tuesday for us. What's the plan, angel boy?"

Samael ignored Loki's jab, his focus remaining solely on me. "If you truly wish to undo what has been set in motion, you must confront the Devil directly. Not to fight him, but to reclaim what he has stolen."

"Reclaim?" I echoed, my breath hitching.

"Yes," Samael said grimly. "His power hinges on what he took from Belial and... what he stripped from you, Asmodeus. If you retrieve it, you might restore enough balance to halt his ascension."

Loki looked at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You're telling me we have to waltz into the Devil's lair and rob him blind?"

Samael's lips twitched into the faintest ghost of a smirk. "In essence, yes. But do not mistake this for a simple heist. It will require more than cunning and courage. It will demand a sacrifice, one neither of you may be prepared to make."

The weight of his words settled over me like a shroud. I exchanged a glance with Loki, his earlier bravado now tempered by the gravity of what Samael had revealed.

"Sacrifice?" Loki muttered, his voice unusually subdued. "What kind of sacrifice?"

Samael's expression darkened, his gaze unflinching. "The kind that reshapes everything you hold dear." He made a small pause as Loki and I stared at him in anticipation. "You must all reincarnate. Sacrifice your Astral forms and take him down from down under. After all, Lucifer is waiting on the other side too."

Loki and I kept staring at him, thunderstruck, wondering if he was joking. However, it was Samael. He never joked - not in the way one would hope for, anyway.

"All... of us?" I asked, my eyes lowering, trying to figure out what he meant exactly.

"All of you." He confirmed. "That means I must release the dam of the veil and let them all in. The only way to defeat the Devil is to reduce him to a mere human."

The room fell into another heavy silence, the enormity of Samael's words crashing down like a tidal wave. Reincarnation? Sacrificing our Astral forms? The idea was as absurd as it was horrifying. Yet Samael's unyielding gaze left no room for doubt—he was deadly serious.

Loki was the first to recover, though his usual glibness was absent. "You're telling me," he began slowly, as if saying it aloud would make it less insane, "that the grand solution to this mess is for us to give up everything—our power, our immortality—and turn ourselves into mortals?"

"Precisely," Samael replied without hesitation. "Your forms are what give the Devil his advantage. He thrives in a world where your power sustains him, where you fight on his terms. Strip that away, and he becomes vulnerable, just like the rest of you will be."

I shook my head, the pain in my side momentarily forgotten. "This is madness. Even if we agree, how are we supposed to take him down as humans? We'll be weaker than ever!"

Samael's eyes narrowed. "Do not underestimate the resilience of the human spirit, Asmodeus. Mortality comes with its own power—one that your kind has long forgotten. The Devil will not expect you to meet him on his level. That will be your greatest weapon."

Loki snorted, though there was no humor in it. "So, we're supposed to gamble on 'the resilience of the human spirit'? That's the grand plan?" He crossed his arms, his expression a mixture of disbelief and fury. "Do you have any idea how fragile humans are? One bad fall, one stab in the wrong place, and poof—game over."

Samael's scythe glinted as he shifted it slightly, his tone turning sharp. "And yet they endure. Despite their fragility, they persist in the face of insurmountable odds. That persistence is what you must embrace if you are to succeed."

I leaned back against the desk, my vision swimming as the weight of the proposition pressed against my chest. Loki's arguments made sense, but Samael's conviction was hard to ignore. Mortality... it wasn't just about losing power—it was about losing identity, becoming something entirely other. Could I even fathom existing that way? Would I even remember who I was?

"And what about Lucifer?" I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "You said he's waiting on the other side. What does that mean?"

Samael's expression softened, though it didn't make him any less imposing. "Lucifer's essence has not been extinguished. He exists beyond the veil, waiting for the moment when he can reclaim what was lost. He will guide you, but only if you are willing to take this step."

Loki groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. "This just keeps getting better and better. So, let me get this straight: we give up everything, throw ourselves into the mortal realm, and hope Lucifer has some kind of magical plan to fix this mess?"

"Yes," Samael said simply.

The finality of his answer hit like a hammer. There was no loophole, no clever trick to sidestep this. If we wanted to stop the Devil, this was the price.

Loki turned to me, his expression raw and uncharacteristically vulnerable. "What do you think, Asmodeus?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "Can we really do this?"

I looked at him, at Samael, and finally down at my own trembling hands. The wound on my side burned, a reminder of how close we were to the edge. I thought about everything we had lost, everything we still stood to lose.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice heavy with exhaustion. "But if this is the only way... do we even have a choice?"

"There's always a choice, Asmodeus." Samael said, a faint smile painting his face. "If you don't go through with this, the Devil's reign will go unchecked but if I release the dam of gods and demons, you all will be equal. Then you can fight."

Loki winced but quickly masked it with a grim smile. "So, no pressure, then."

Samael didn't respond, merely stepping back toward his desk. His movements were deliberate, heavy with the weight of millennia, as he set his scythe against the wall. "I have no more to say. The decision is yours. But be warned: hesitation will not save you. Only action will."

The weight of Samael's words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a slow drumbeat of inevitability. I felt the cold, eerie silence settle around us, thick with the gravity of the choice before us. Samael, in all his celestial indifference, was waiting for an answer—waiting for us to decide whether to push the boundaries of existence itself or to allow the Devil to remain unchecked, a force of destruction and chaos.

Loki's gaze flickered to me, his eyes narrowing as he considered the stakes. "Equal? Gods, demons... all reduced to something human?" he mused, almost to himself. "That's a hell of a gamble, don't you think?"

I leaned back slightly, feeling the pull of fatigue in my bones, a reminder of how badly I was hanging on by mere threads. The pain was no longer just in my side; it was in the core of me, gnawing at the edge of my thoughts. "It's not a gamble, Loki. It's survival. Without it, none of this matters. Not the gods, not the demons... not even the Devil."

Loki was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. But then his lips twitched upward, the faintest ghost of a smile curving them. "So, you've already decided then?" he asked, a challenge in his tone.

I nodded, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "There's no other choice, Loki. Not really." I made a small pause then added, "I'm basically going to burn out like this. I can't be of any help. I'd be more of use as a human than a mere Astral being with no real powers."

Loki's gaze lingered on me as he was taking in a pitiful sight that was me. For a second, I felt bad. He gave up everything for me and now he was about to give up even more. However, I couldn't say I hadn't warned him once before. He should've ran when he had a chance.

Loki's silence was heavy, the kind that stretched between us with unspoken words and a thousand unasked questions. His eyes held mine, but they were distant, flickering with something I couldn't quite place.

"Don't start," I muttered, attempting to push myself upright despite the pain that was starting to cloud my thoughts. "I'm already feeling sorry enough for both of us."

He shook his head, a strange, sad smile tugging at his lips. "You think you're the only one burning out?" His voice was low, almost imperceptible, as if he were speaking to himself as much as to me.

I scoffed, the sound weak and bitter. "It's different for you. You've always known how to survive. You've always had something to keep going for."

Loki was silent for a long while, then he let out a breath that seemed too heavy for his usual demeanor. "Maybe," he said quietly, "But that doesn't mean I don't see you." He paused, his eyes flicking briefly to the still form of Belial. "I know what you're trying to do, and I'm not going anywhere. Not without you."

I swallowed hard, the tightness in my chest suddenly unbearable. His words were both a comfort and a weight I couldn't fully carry. He'd never understood the full depth of what I'd become, and now he was about to face it alongside me. I couldn't help but feel a flicker of guilt for what I was asking of him, but it was too late for any of that now.

"There's no way around it, Loki," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "We all have our limits. This is mine. If I can't be of use here, I'll do what I can there."

Loki finally stepped closer, kneeling down in front of me as if somehow this small gesture could bridge the gap between the choices we were about to make. "I've never cared about what you could do," he said, his voice unwavering. "I care about who you are."

I felt something stir within me at his words—something I hadn't allowed myself to feel in a long time. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to push back the flood of emotion that threatened to break through. "I'm not the same person I was when we started this," I murmured.

"You don't need to be," he replied softly, his hand reaching out to rest on mine, a simple touch that somehow meant everything in that moment. "Just be here. That's enough."

Loki's gaze softened, his fingers brushing gently against mine, as though testing the weight of the moment. For a fleeting second, it was as though the world outside of us had paused, suspended in the shared quiet between us. The air felt thick, charged with the unspoken things we had never said, the feelings we had only hinted at, buried beneath layers of chaos and destruction.

"You know," Loki said, his voice quieter than before, as though choosing his words carefully, "I never thought we'd end up like this. Together, I mean. When I first saw you, I figured I'd just be an inconvenience in your grand plan. And yet here we are, in the middle of all this... mess."

I met his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, I let myself truly see him—his guarded eyes, the weariness etched into his features, and the faint smile that played at his lips despite everything. In that moment, I realized how much he had changed, how much I had changed. Perhaps we were more alike than we had ever given ourselves credit for.

"You're not an inconvenience," I said softly, squeezing his hand, the gesture almost timid but filled with the weight of everything I couldn't say. "You never were."

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "Then why does it feel like you've been pushing me away for so long?"

I froze for a moment, the truth of his words striking me like a blow. He was right. I had always kept him at arm's length, even as I craved his presence, his touch, his chaos. I had pushed him away because I didn't know how to let him in, not with the mess I had become.

"I was afraid," I whispered, the admission leaving my lips before I could stop it. "Afraid of what would happen if I let you stay. Afraid of losing more than I could handle."

His hand slid to the back of my neck, his thumb gently grazing the skin there, sending a shiver down my spine. "I don't know if I'm the answer to your fear," he murmured, his lips brushing against mine, light and hesitant, as if testing the waters. "But I know that I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever."

I leaned into him then, the distance between us dissolving as if it had never existed. Our lips met, soft at first, like the gentle promise of something that had been buried deep but was now rising to the surface. It wasn't just about desire; it was about connection, about finally allowing ourselves to be vulnerable in the face of everything that loomed over us.

When we pulled away, the world didn't feel as heavy as before. I could still hear the faint echo of Samael's words in the back of my mind, but for a moment, I didn't care. The weight of our decisions, of the war we were about to face, felt a little lighter with him here.

"I'm not ready to lose you, Loki," I said quietly, my forehead resting against his. "But I'll do whatever it takes. If it means we can end this... together."

Loki's eyes flickered with something deep and raw, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "Then we'll burn the world down together, Asmodeus. And maybe, just maybe, we'll rise from the ashes."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to believe it.

Then, with one squeeze of my hand, Loki turned towards Samael who was patiently waiting. It surprised me that he had allowed us to have a moment with each other but even as grand being as he was, he, too, understood the weight of our choices. His gaze, though, remained steady and seemingly unfazed as he kept his eyes on us.

"So, should I release the dam?" He inquired with a small tilt of his head.

"Yes." Loki said almost instantly as he squeezed my hand tightly.

"Do it." I said evenly although my voice trembled. I didn't know what the future awaited but at least I knew I wasn't alone.

"I'll give you a head start." Samael smiled lightly and that was the first time I saw some form of gentleness passing his features.

With those words, the weight of everything we had discussed hung in the air, suffocating yet relieving. For a brief moment, it was as though time had stopped, and I was left to consider the enormity of the choice we had made. The dam would be opened, the lines between gods and mortals blurred, and in the end, nothing would be the same.

Loki's hand still held mine tightly, grounding me in the present. I could feel the warmth of his touch, the only thing that felt certain in this chaotic moment. But beneath that warmth, a gnawing uncertainty swirled in the pit of my stomach. This wasn't just about survival. It wasn't just about defeating the Devil or reclaiming what we had lost. It was about sacrifice—something much deeper, more irrevocable than anything I had ever known.

And then, as I looked at Loki—at the unwavering determination in his eyes, at the way he had been with me through everything, even when it seemed hopeless—I realized something. The pain, the loss, the choices we had made—it all led us here, to this point. It was never about avoiding suffering. It was about how we chose to face it.

I had been running for so long—afraid of the consequences, of losing myself, of losing the few people I had allowed to get close. I thought that if I kept pushing, kept fighting, I could somehow maintain control. But now I saw the truth: control had never been mine to keep. It was a fragile illusion, something I had clung to out of fear of what would happen if I let go.

But now, with the reality of what was to come settling over me, I understood. Sometimes, the only way to find peace—to end the chaos—is to release the very thing you've held onto for so long. The weight of my powers, my identity, my Astral form—it had all become a prison. It wasn't just the Devil I had been fighting against. It was the person I had created in order to survive. The person who couldn't let go, who couldn't trust, who couldn't allow myself to love and be loved without the constant fear of it all falling apart.

I wasn't sure what would happen once we crossed that threshold—once the dam was broken and everything began to shift. But I did know this: I wasn't doing it alone. Loki was beside me, and perhaps, for the first time, I was truly ready to let him in. The future was uncertain, the price we had to pay still unknown, but we were in this together.

"Do it," I whispered again, this time with more certainty in my voice, though the trembling in my chest remained. "Let's face it. Whatever comes next, we'll do it together."

Loki squeezed my hand once more, and in that simple gesture, I felt something shift within me. A quiet resolve. A willingness to surrender. Whatever came next—whether we won or lost—I had come to realize that it wasn't the outcome that mattered. It was the journey, the connection, the moments we shared along the way.

The future was uncertain, but in this moment, I understood: it was never the certainty of the path that mattered. It was the willingness to walk it. To face the unknown, to make the choices that would define us, and to do it with the people we trusted beside us.

And for the first time in a long while, I felt ready to face whatever came next.

Loki's presence beside me was a steadying force as he helped me to my feet, the weight of Belial slung carelessly over his shoulder. I could barely stand on my own, my legs trembling beneath me, but somehow, I managed to drag myself toward the door. The one that led to the endless void where Lucifer had been cast, where everything had begun, and where it would now all end.

As I moved, the memories crashed over me like waves—moments of rage, loss, and regret—but also of the rare glimmers of love and connection I had found along the way. I realized, standing there on the edge of everything, that none of it would ever be the same again. Not my life, not who I was, not the world I had fought so hard to preserve. I didn't know if I would remember this version of myself, if I would even remember Loki the same way when everything was over. But the one thing I was certain of, the one thing I had come to understand, was that we would find each other again.

I didn't need to know exactly how it would happen or what would change, because deep down, I knew that in some way, Loki and I were bound together, tethered by something that transcended time, life, and death.

He would find me. I would find him.

That certainty, however small, anchored me as I stepped toward the unknown. For all the pain, for all the heartache we had endured, the knowledge that we were not truly alone in this—no matter what form we took in the next life—was enough to push me forward.

As I stepped through the threshold, I felt the weight of everything we had lost and gained settle over me. There was no turning back now. Only the future awaited, uncertain, but full of potential.