Hell bound with you

Twins of light and ruin

Far beyond the mortal world —the ancient dominion of the angels—the air itself carried a quiet tension.

Silver light from moon filtered through the high crystal arches of the council chamber, casting fractured patterns across the marble floor. At its center stood Ivar.

Still. Rigid. Burning from within.

His pale blue eyes, so often calm, now shimmered with restrained fury.

“They’re out there,” he said, his voice low but edged like a drawn blade. “Hell creatures… in the human world.”

Across from him stood Alvin, an elder angel. To Ivar, he was far more than a mentor—he was a guide, a father in every way that mattered, and the one soul he trusted without question.

Though his expression remained serene, the slight furrow in his brow revealed the worry he refused to voice.

“That should not be possible,” Alvin replied carefully. “Barriers between realms do not weaken without cause.”

Ivar let out a sharp breath, pacing now, unable to contain the storm rising in his chest.

“I need to speak to him.”

The words fell heavy.

Alvin didn’t need to ask who.

He let out a slow sigh, already knowing where this was leading. “What is it you wish to do, my lord?” he asked. “Situations are already grave. Clashing with your brother now will only bring calamity upon your people.”

At that, Ivar stopped.

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then—

“What he is doing,” Ivar said, turning back slowly, “will destroy both worlds.”

His voice cold and stripped of all emotion, “And I stopped calling him brother… a long time ago.”

There was no hesitation in his voice now. Only certainty.

“I need to know what he’s planning now. Why he is interfering with the human realm.”

Alvin studied him, searching for doubt.

He found none.

And that frightened him more than anger ever could.

Because this was not just conflict.

This was destiny circling back to claim what had long been inevitable.

For a moment, silence settled between them.

Because both of them knew exactly who “he” was.

Raziel.

Ivar’s twin brother.

Yes, they were twins—identical in face, almost impossible to tell apart at first glance. But their eyes...their eyes told the truth.

Ivar’s were pale blue, like a frozen sky before dawn—clear, unwavering, and filled with quiet resolve.

Raziel’s burned red, like embers that never died—restless, consuming, dangerous.

And beyond that, they shared nothing.

Where Ivar sought balance, Raziel sought control.

Where Ivar protected, Raziel manipulated.

Two halves of a whole that refused to exist together.

Their mother had seen it early—the fracture that would one day split realms.

So she made a choice.

A cruel one.

Ivar was named the future protector of the Bloodstone—the ancient force that maintained the fragile balance between all worlds.

Raziel...

Raziel was given to Hell.

Not as punishment.

But as necessity.

A ruler for chaos. A master of darkness. A counterweight to Ivar’s light.

A decision meant to preserve balance.

But instead—

It ignited a rivalry that neither time nor distance could extinguish.

Alvin stepped closer, his gaze softening despite the weight of the moment. For all his wisdom, there was something almost paternal in the way he looked at Ivar now.

“My lord,” he said, “whatever decision you make, we will follow without hesitation. Your command has never been questioned...and it never will be.” He paused, his grip tightening on his staff. “But I am worried about you. All of this...it may take a toll on you, more than you realize.”

The concern in his voice lingered in the air.

Ivar let out a low chuckle—not out of amusement, but familiarity. He turned, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction.

“You know me, Alvin,” he said, his tone calmer now, steadier. “I don’t break that easily.”

He met Alvin’s eyes, something firm and reassuring settling into his expression.

“Trust me,” he added, quieter this time. “And rest assured...I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Without waiting for a response, Ivar turned and walked out of the hall, his footsteps echoing against the cold stone as the weight of his decision followed behind.

⸻

The gate of Hell lay buried beneath the castle—hidden in silence, sealed away from the world above.

An underground tunnel led to it, carved through ancient stone, older than memory itself. The air grew colder with every step, heavier...as though the very walls resisted those who dared walk that path.

Not everyone could cross it.

No angles. No demons. No human.

Only Ivar...and his brother, Raziel.

It was a boundary forged by balance—an unspoken law between worlds. No demon could step into the realms of humans or angels without consequence. And no human or angel could enter Hell and remain alive.

But balance...was not perfect.

Sometimes, faults appeared—cracks in the order of things.

And Ivar had come because of one such fault.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the world changed.

The sky above him turned into a suffocating void of black, thick with drifting ash. The air burned his lungs with every breath, laced with the stench of sulfur and decay. It was not a place meant for life.

Nothing pure could survive here.

Yet Ivar walked forward without hesitation.

He knew where to find him.

The volcanic mountain rose in the distance like a jagged wound in the land, its peak splitting the dark sky.

Rivers of molten lava flowed down its sides, glowing like veins of fire. Deep within it—hidden among countless caves—was where Raziel resided.

Where he ruled.

⸻

The dark iron doors of the inner sanctum thudded shut, sealing out the endless, crimson-lit screams of the infernal city beyond.

Raziel, the High Sovereign of the Pit, unbuttoned his shirt one slow button at a time, letting the fabric fall to the obsidian floor. Across the chamber stood Ophelia, her dark beauty illuminated by the flickering braziers. Her eyes, glowing like dying stars, tracked his every move as he closed the distance between them.

He reached out, catching her wrist to pull her flush against him, but she immediately resisted.

“No,” she rasped, struggling against his grip. “I no longer wish to serve you, my lord. Let me go.”

Raziel’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening.

“How dare you deny me? Do you seek punishment, Ophelia?”

Ophelia tried to push him.

“I know you don’t love me anymore,” she spat, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and grief as she fought against his arms. “Even when you are here—in my bed, inside me—your heart belongs to someone else.”

Before she could speak another word, Raziel silenced her with a forceful, desperate kiss, consuming her protest. When he finally pulled back, his breath was hot against her skin.

“What am I supposed to do without you?” he whispered, his voice laced with a bitter, dangerous honesty. “Even if my heart belongs to another, she is forever beyond my reach. So I need you.”

Ophelia’s expression darkened, a flicker of quiet sorrow settling behind her eyes.

He only reached for her when he needed someone to fill the emptiness she could never truly cure.

And when his need faded, he would act as though there had never been stolen moments, lingering touches, or whispered confessions between them.

That truth cut deeper than any blade ever could. Each time, it carved a fresh wound into her heart.

He forced her back onto the bed, pinning her wrists above her head. He descended upon her, kissing her frantically—her lips, her cheeks, trailing down the column of her throat to the curve of her chest.

Just as the heat between them reached a fever pitch, a sharp, heavy knock echoed through the chamber.

Raziel froze. Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against her chest, the sudden interruption breaking the spell. With a quiet sigh, he released her wrists.

Ophelia immediately pushed him off and rose from the bed, adjusting her clothes as she retreated into the shadows.

Raziel stood, smoothing his expression back into a mask of cold authority as he stepped to the heavy doors and pulled them open.

Marbas, one of his most trusted demon lieutenants, stood in the corridor.

“Ivar has arrived, my Lord. He is looking for you.”

A slow, ruthless smirk spread across Raziel’s lips.

“Let us welcome him.”

Retrieving his shirt from the floor, the High Sovereign turned his back on the chamber and swept out into the dark.

⸻

As Ivar approached, he noticed movement.

The caves were not empty.

They were filled with demons.

Dozens of them.

Some twisted and monstrous—horned, disfigured, their forms warped by the very essence of Hell. But others...

Others looked almost human.

Striking. Composed. Deceptively beautiful.

That was always the most dangerous kind.

One of them stepped forward, blocking Ivar’s path.

His appearance was flawless—sharp features, calm eyes—but there was something hollow beneath it. Something inhuman.

“You are not welcome here,” the demon said, his voice cold and controlled. “Go back to where you came from.”

Ivar didn’t slow down.

His gaze passed over him like he was nothing.

“Move,” Ivar said. “Or I will kill you.”

The demon’s lips curled. “You’re in no position to—”

“I said...” Ivar’s voice dropped, dark and edged with something lethal, “...don’t try to stop me. Or I will kill you. Again. And again...until even Hell refuses to rebuild you.”

A flicker of hesitation crossed the demon’s face.

But before the tension could snap—

A voice echoed from behind.

“Brother.”

Smooth. Amused.

“Now this is a surprise.”

Both of them turned.

Raziel stepped out from the shadows of the cave, his presence commanding the space around him. He looked almost identical to Ivar—and yet, entirely different. Where Ivar carried restraint, Raziel wore chaos like a crown.

A slow smile spread across his lips.

“You came looking for me.”

Ivar turned fully toward him, his expression hardening.

“We are supposed to protect the balance between worlds,” he said, his voice steady but heavy with accusation. “Then why are your demons roaming in the human world?”

Raziel’s smile didn’t fade.

If anything, it deepened.

“Is that what this is about?” he asked, stepping closer. “You came all the way here...to question me?”

His eyes darkened.

“Or to accuse me?”

“I’m not here for games, Raziel.”

“Clearly not,” Raziel replied, glancing at him with mock curiosity. “But tell me something, brother...”

He circled him.

“If you and your precious angels can walk freely among humans...why can’t I?”

Ivar’s jaw tightened.

“Angels do not harm humans.”

A soft chuckle escaped Raziel.

“No?” he murmured. “You’re very sure of that.”

Ivar clenched his teeth. “They protect them.”

“And we...” Raziel tilted his head, his gaze sharpening, “...are not allowed to exist?”

“That’s not what I said,” Ivar replied, his voice steady but firm. “You can only exist...in your own world.”

A brief silence stretched between them—heavy, charged.

Then Raziel leaned in, his voice dropping.

“We are supposed to keep balance, aren’t we?” he continued. “But you break it...again and again.”

His eyes flickered with something knowing.

“So why not me?”

“I have my reasons.”

The words came firm.

Unyielding.

And that...made Raziel smile.

“Oh, I know you do,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now. “In fact…”

His gaze sharpened, watching Ivar closely.

“I’ve seen your reason.”

A pause.

“She is...truly beautiful.”

For the first time, Ivar’s composure cracked—just slightly.

His brows furrowed.

But Raziel only smiled wider.

“We are on the same side of desire, Ivar,” he continued. “So stop pretending to be righteous.”

His voice hardened.

“Because you’re not.”

The air grew heavier between them.

“And you have no right to lecture me.”

“Don’t go near her.”

The words came low.

Controlled.

But beneath them...was something far more dangerous.

Raziel noticed.

Of course he did.

“I can see it in your eyes,” he said. “How much you love her.”

Ivar didn’t respond.

Didn’t move.

But the silence said enough.

Raziel stepped closer—close enough that his voice became a threat meant only for him.

“If you want to keep her alive,” he murmured, “you should stop telling me what I should… or shouldn’t do.”

Then, almost gently—

“Now...leave.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Ivar exhaled.

“I see,” he said.

His voice had changed.

Colder.

Sharper.

“You’re summoning your own death.”

Raziel didn’t react.

But his eyes flickered.

“That’s why you’re acting like a reckless fool.”

Ivar stepped back, his gaze never leaving him.

“Keep your demons—and yourself—out of the other world.”

A final warning.

“You will not get another one.”

—

And with that...

Ivar turned.

And walked away.

But behind him—

Raziel’s smile slowly faded.

And in its place...

Something far more dangerous began to rise.