The Forbidden Love; Paradise and Hell

[Aurelius POV] The border smelled like ozone and blood. Paradise was behind me. White spires, choirs, the smell of clean rain. Hell was in front of me. Black smoke, screaming, the heat that made my wings itch. And in the middle, in the ash and the neutral ground no one claimed, was him. Order 117: Eliminate the Ninth Prince. No witnesses. I’d recited it 3 times on the way down. My sword was already out. Gold, blessed, humming. One strike and I’d be back in time for the evening hymn. He was sitting against a broken pillar. Black wings, torn. Horns cracked. Blood on his mouth. Dressed in red and black armor that looked expensive even half-melted. The Prince of the Ninth Circle. Azrael. He looked up when my shadow fell over him. And he smiled. “Took you long enough,” he said. Voice rough. Like he’d been screaming. “I was starting to think Heaven forgot about me.” I raised my sword. The light of it made the ash glow. “By decree of the Celestial Council, you are to be erased for crimes against—” “Yeah yeah,” he cut me off. Coughed. More blood. “Crimes against order. Crimes against God. Crimes against good taste in fashion.” He gestured to his armor. “I get it. Can we skip to the part where you do it? My side hurts.” My hands didn’t move. He was supposed to fight. Beg. Curse my name. Demons did that. They didn’t look... tired. “Why aren’t you running?” I asked. The words came out before I could stop them. “Where to?” He laughed, and immediately regretted it. Winced. “Heaven’s behind you. Hell’s behind me. Neutral ground’s about 5 minutes from collapsing. I’m kinda stuck, angel boy.” Angel boy. No one called me that. I was Seraphim Aurelius. The Council’s blade. Perfect record. Zero hesitations. So why was I hesitating now? He shifted and hissed. The wound on his side was bad. Demonic ichor, black and smoking. But there was something else. Mixed in with it. Gold. Holy fire. Someone from my side got to him first. “You’re dying,” I said. Dumb. Obvious. “Very observant,” he said. “10/10. Would get executed by you again.” The wind picked up. Carried the sound of horns from both sides. They’d notice soon. That I hadn’t come back. That he was still alive. Order 117 echoed in my head. No witnesses. No mercy. No questions. I looked at his wings. They were beautiful, in a ruined way. Like stained glass in a fire. I looked at his eyes. Red. But not angry. Just... exhausted. Something in my chest pulled. Wrong. Heretical. “Does it hurt?” I asked. He blinked. “What?” “The holy fire. Does it hurt?” A beat of silence. Then he stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “...Yes,” he said slowly. “It burns like hell. Which is ironic.” I sheathed my sword. His eyes widened. “Whoa. Okay. Not complaining, but—” I tore a strip from the hem of my white robe. Clean. Blessed. Kneeled in the ash next to him. “What are you doing?” he whispered. “Shutting up,” I muttered. And pressed the cloth to his side. He jerked. “AH. That’s— that’s holy. That’s gonna—” “I know,” I said. My hands were shaking. “Hold still.” For 30 seconds, the only sound was his breathing. Sharp. Pained. And mine. Just as bad. When I pulled back, the bleeding had slowed. The cloth was ruined. He was staring at me. Really staring. “You’re supposed to kill me,” he said. Quiet now. No jokes. “I know,” I said. “Then why—” “Because if I kill you like this, I’m no better than them.” “‘Them’ being?” “The people who told me to.” Another horn. Closer. We both froze. “Go,” he said. “Before they see you with me.” “I can’t leave you—” “You can,” he said. And for the first time, he looked scared. Not of dying. Of me staying. “Aurelius.” He knew my name. “How—” “Heard it in prayers,” he said, and tried to smile again. Failed. “You’re kind of famous up there. Golden boy.” Footsteps. On the ash. Demonic. And Celestial. “s**t,” he breathed. “You need to run. Now.” I stood. My sword felt heavy. I looked at him one last time. Bleeding, broken, and looking at me like I was the miracle. I turned and flew. Behind me, I heard him laugh. Soft. Disbelieving. “Guess this is a fall that wasn’t,” he said. I didn’t look back. But I could still feel the warmth of his blood on my hands. And for the first time in 24 years, I disobeyed an order. The Council was going to have questions. Hell was going to have questions. And I... I had a demon’s name in my head, and no idea why my heart was beating like this.