Abaddon

Chapter 15 : Reunion

In the blink of an eye, we appeared at the camp. The earth was scorched, the air thick with the stench of metal and blood. The ground was littered with broken weapons and ash, faint trails of smoke still rising where fires had burned moments ago. The wind carried the cries of dying infernals in the distance; their howls faded into silence one by one.

Ahead of us, Lilith was finishing off the last of the stragglers. Her blade plunged through the gut of a snarling infernal; the beast let out a final screech and collapsed. Lilith staggered back, pulling her sword free. Her armor was scorched and cracked, her hair stuck to her sweat-damp face. Blood coated her blades and dripped to the ruined earth. Her chest rose and fell with effort.

She turned at the sound of our arrival. Her tired eyes widened when she saw us.

“Uriel!” Lilith’s voice broke as she ran forward.

She threw herself into Uriel’s arms, clinging to her. Tears streamed down her face.

“I was worried,” she sobbed.

Uriel gave a faint smile and patted her head before easing her away.

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” she said, voice low. Her wounds had closed, but exhaustion still clung to her. She held herself upright for the others, but the strain showed in the set of her shoulders.

The clanging of armor grew louder. Lancelot dashed through the camp and slid to a stop, dust rising. He dropped to one knee.

“My lady,” he said, bowing low. “Forgive me for failing to protect you.”

Uriel’s brows rose. Then she laughed—sudden and unsteady. The sound surprised all of us. Tears came with it, and she could not stop them. We stared, unsure what to do.

“My lady?” Lancelot muttered.

Azrael watched, a slow smile on his face. “You find this amusing, sister?” he asked softly.

Uriel steadied herself, breathed, then smiled with a small, tired warmth. “It isn’t amusement. I’m surprised. So many people care for me.”

Her words hit harder than I expected. I thought back to the day I found her—silent, shut away for more than a hundred years. That kind of solitude carved a person. Seeing her surrounded now, not alone, felt like watching something rescued from a long winter.

I must have been smiling without meaning to. Her eyes caught mine. She nodded once and mouthed, “Thank you.”

Warmth spread through my chest. My heartbeat quickened. A gesture so small made the world steady for a moment.

Then the voice came in my head, cold and exact.

“Good job, Archie. You saved her. As promised, I will be returning Elise.”

A portal tore open with a blast of sound. Every head turned. Uriel’s mana flared. Azrael’s hand dropped toward his sword. Lilith crouched, blades ready. Lancelot tightened his grip on his spear. The camp braced.

I stood where I was. I knew what that sound meant.

Footsteps came from the portal. A dress appeared first, then the rest of Elise moved through. She stepped out steady, awake. The pale sickness had gone. Her skin had color. Her green eyes shone clean and fierce. A grin spread across her face.

Silence pressed down. No one spoke. I had expected the portal, but not this—her whole countenance returned so quickly.

She looked at me. Her gaze warmed.

“Hi,” she said softly.

Her voice broke the tension. Uriel moved first. She grabbed Elise and pulled her into a hug. I stepped forward when they released her and held her tight. Around us weapons lowered. The others relaxed. The camp that had roared with battle turned into a field of voices and laughter and the clatter of mugs.

That night changed. Fires burned high. The air filled with shouted toasts and low conversations. Knights cheered. Some mourned those lost. Others laughed for the living. I watched the faces around me—hard men letting down for a while, a few healers moving quietly among the tents. For the first time, I felt part of something that mattered.

I sat to the side with a mug in my hands. My first drink. I turned the ale slowly and thought.

“Did you know Azrael would come?” I asked the quiet in my head. The Reaper answered after a pause.

“I suspected. The Council of Heaven does not release an Archangel for small skirmishes. I did not expect him, but I think I know why he came—because of you.”

“Me?” I asked out loud, looking toward where Azrael talked with the others.

“You are tied to two powers,” the Reaper said. “A kin of an Archdemon and marked by death. You stand above the measure of mortals. The Council watches threats. You are one now.”

The words settled like cold stone. I had never thought of myself that way. Half of me wanted to laugh at the idea. The other half felt the weight of it in my chest. Images flared in my mind—my hand on a blade, knights fallen at my feet. A future I had seen once stood at the front of my thoughts again.

“Fear not, Archie,” the Reaper said, softer than usual. “The sight you saw is one possibility, not the whole story. You can bend the path. Learn. Grow. Change what you can. That is what matters.”

I drank the ale. The taste was bitter and honest. My eyes drifted to Uriel and Elise, sitting close, sharing a quiet conversation. They looked safe, for now. Their smiles were small and real.

Maybe the Reaper was right. Maybe a future could shift. As long as those two were by my side, I would keep moving forward. I would train. I would learn to control whatever power had woken inside me. I would not be the end of everything.

I set my mug down and stood. The camp noise rose again around me. I walked back toward them, toward the fire and the faces that had chosen to stand together. The night was far from over. As I sat, all I could think of was this.

If destiny waited, I would face it. I would stand with Uriel. I would stand with Elise. I would fight. For their smiles and mine.