The devil's Halo-Chapter 13: Ashes Between Us
1317 Words
The sky over Viremont cracked with thunder as the storm broke, rain slicing through the darkness like needles. The city lights blurred beneath the downpour, streaking like melting gold. Somewhere in the chaos, a soul trembled on the edge of awakening.
Aeris stood at the edge of the rooftop garden, hair soaked, lashes weighed with water. Her breath fogged in the cold, her arms wrapped around herself — not from the chill, but from the ache inside her. The burn on her wrist still pulsed faintly under her sleeve — the symbol of the feather, branded not just onto her skin… but into her fate.
Lucien hadn’t returned yet.
She had waited, minutes stretching into an hour, rain soaking her spine and soul alike. A voice in her head whispered that he wouldn’t come back. That everything had changed. That she was standing here hoping for a devil to keep a promise — and that hope was always a lie.
The rooftop door creaked.
She didn’t turn. Her heart did.
Footsteps. Familiar. Heavy with purpose. She felt them like an echo beneath her ribs.
“You’re late,” she said, her voice barely rising above the storm.
“I came as fast as I could,” Lucien’s voice replied. Not rushed. Not pleading. Just raw.
He stepped beside her, water dripping from his hair, his coat clinging to him like shadows. The moment their eyes met, something between them uncoiled. The storm didn’t matter. The city didn’t exist.
Only this.
Only them.
“You’re drenched,” he said.
She half-smiled. “You noticed.”
A breath passed between them. He reached out slowly, brushing wet strands from her face. His touch was warmer than the rain, and it made her shiver.
“I saw the symbol,” she said quietly. “On my sketchbook. It wasn’t just a dream.”
“No,” he confirmed. “It was a mark. The Circle has claimed you now. And they won’t stop.”
“Because of the prophecy?” she asked. “Because I’m… part of it?”
“You are the prophecy, Aeris,” Lucien said. “And you’re waking up.”
Her heart skipped. “What does that mean?”
“It means everything you are — everything inside you — it’s not dormant anymore. They marked you to accelerate it. You’re not just connected to this darkness. You’re a key.”
She took a breath, slow and shaky. “And what happens when the key turns?”
Lucien looked away, jaw tight. “He returns. The First Flame. The ancient power. The true Devil. And this world becomes ash.”
Aeris swallowed hard. “But you’re a devil. You said you were exiled.”
“I was,” he nodded. “Because I defied him. Because I believed that redemption was possible — even for someone like me.”
She stepped closer, lifting her hand. Her fingers brushed his chest, felt the slow beat of something he shouldn’t have — a heartbeat.
“And now?” she asked.
He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze dropped to her lips. His voice came low.
“Now I believe in you.”
Their kiss wasn’t fire this time. It was water — soothing, desperate, infinite. A grounding in the middle of everything unraveling. Her hands on his face, his arms circling her waist. The storm fell around them, but between their bodies, there was only warmth.
They broke apart when the wind shifted — unnaturally. A pulse of energy rippled through the air.
Lucien turned sharply. His eyes narrowed. “We’re not alone.”
A figure stepped from the shadows — soaked cloak, dark eyes gleaming like onyx.
“Darian,” Lucien growled.
The stranger gave a crooked smile. “I come bearing warnings, not war.”
Aeris looked between them. “Who is he?”
“An old ally,” Lucien said. “And a dangerous one.”
Darian bowed slightly. “Flatterer.”
“What do you want?” Lucien snapped.
“To tell you that the Circle is already on the move,” Darian said. “The gates… are beginning to burn.”
Lucien’s breath caught. “How long?”
“Two nights. Maybe three. But they’ve found the altar.”
Aeris stepped forward. “What altar?”
“The one beneath the city,” Darian replied, voice grave. “The one built in your name, long before you were ever born.”
The rain seemed to stop for a heartbeat.
Lucien cursed under his breath.
Darian tossed a soaked parchment at his feet. “They’re calling it ‘The Baptism of Flame.’ They’ll burn her alive at the altar to awaken what’s inside her. Once done, she won’t be Aeris anymore.”
“No,” Lucien said. “That’s not happening.”
“She’ll need protection,” Darian added. “More than what you alone can offer.”
Lucien’s jaw flexed. “I’ll tear them apart before they lay a finger on her.”
Darian’s expression sharpened. “Then you better start gathering allies. Because the Circle’s not coming alone.”
And with that, Darian vanished into smoke — leaving behind silence heavier than the storm itself.
—
Later that night, Aeris sat curled up in Lucien’s penthouse. She held the sketchbook tight in her lap, tracing the symbol with the tip of her pen — over and over, like she could control it if she could just understand it.
Lucien returned with two mugs of coffee, setting one beside her. “Drink. You’re still shaking.”
She took it without looking at him. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
“But it’s me they want,” she whispered. “Me they need. You saw what Darian said. They’ve already prepared a place to kill me.”
Lucien crouched in front of her, taking the sketchbook from her lap. “Look at me.”
She hesitated.
“Please,” he added softly.
She lifted her gaze.
His voice was rough but honest. “I don’t care what they think they’ve planned. I don’t care what prophecy says. You are not going to die. Not for them. Not for this. Not ever.”
Her eyes welled. “What if I become something I can’t control?”
“Then I’ll be there to remind you who you are.”
She blinked back tears. “Even if I become a monster?”
He smiled, bittersweet. “Then we’ll match.”
—
Beneath the catacombs of Saint Jude’s, the Circle moved like blood through stone veins. Rhea stood before the altar, cloak dripping red wax from the last ritual.
“She’s stronger than we anticipated,” she told the priest. “Lucien is protecting her.”
“He always was sentimental,” the priest muttered. “That’s why he was cast down.”
Rhea’s hand trembled. “We can’t kill her before the awakening. We need the fire inside her.”
“And once it’s lit?” the priest asked.
Rhea hesitated. “Then… she’ll die.”
The priest turned toward the flame flickering on the ancient altar. “Then prepare her throne of ash.”
—
Back in the city, Marcus stood over another body — fourth in five nights.
The symbol again.
The feather. The flames.
But this time, the corpse had something else — a whisper written in blood on the wall behind it.
“The Devil Loves a Human.”
Marcus snapped a photo, heart racing.
“Lucien…” he muttered. “What the hell are you pulling me into?”
—
In the shadows outside Aeris’s building, a figure watched from the rooftops. Pale, cruel lips curled.
Liora.
“Tick tock, darling,” she whispered into the rain. “Let’s see if your heart survives the fire.”
—
To be continued…
- Writer
