They descended through no door.
Hell opened as a wound in the air — a spiral of falling mirrors and bone-white flame. The gate shimmered behind them like it feared to stay open.
Ramiel landed first, knees stiff, breathing slower. Alec stumbled beside him, clutching his satchel like a shield.
The ground beneath was obsidian and whispering ash. Shapes moved in the mist, eyeless and unblinking. The sky above was crimson-veined, pulsing like a lidless eye trying not to close.
"Don't speak unless spoken to," Ramiel muttered.
Alec looked around. "Is this—?"
"Yes," Ramiel said. "Hell."
From the far horizon came the clang of chains. Then footsteps. Heavy. Purposeful.
Vorakiel emerged from the haze — broad, horned, and cloaked in layered armor that hissed with trapped voices. His eyes were hollow, burning within.
"Djinn," he said with the sound of sand falling through broken glass. "You carry the mark."
Ramiel nodded once.
Vorakiel stepped close, his breath a frost of sulfur. "I wish you stayed dead"
Ramiel offered a dry smile. "Guard your tongue demon."
Vorakiel shuddered at the hidden command in the voice.
Vorakiel's gaze fell to Alec. "Child flesh in Hell."
Ramiel moved slightly in front of the boy.
"He's warded. No games."
Vorakiel said nothing more. He turned, and the chains behind him twisted into a path.
"We seek the wound that smiles"
"Uninvited" Vorakiel growled. He didn't earn hell's gatekeeper by keeping mute.
"You wouldn't want to interfere" Ramiel replied.
"This way. The Hollow Crown waits."
As they walked behind the demon, Alec spoke in a low whisper.
"What is the Hollow Crown?"
Ramiel didn't answer immediately. His eyes were on the horizon — a place where the sky folded in on itself like a cracked mirror, and palaces hung suspended on nothing.
Finally, he spoke.
"It is a throne made of reflection, and the man who sits on it believes there is no higher seat — not in Heaven, nor Hell, nor in the dreams of men."
Alec blinked. "Lucarion?"
Ramiel nodded.
"He wasn't born in Hell. He fell. Pride is not fire — it's glass. Beautiful. Cold. Unforgiving. He crafted a realm in his own image and filled it with mirrors to reflect what he already believes: that he alone is divine."
Alec glanced at the shifting horizon. "And you knew him?"
"I stood beside him. Once. In another war."
Ramiel's voice dimmed. "He was an archon before the fall. But unlike Lucifer, no grand speeches, no rebellion. Lucarion just... stopped kneeling."
Alec frowned. "Did you fight him?"
"No. We fought together. Against worse things. But when it ended, Lucarion chose solitude"
They fell silent again as the path darkened. Far ahead, the Hollow Crown rose — a palace of infinite glass, crowned by a moon that bled light sideways.
Alec spoke again, softer.
"Is he dangerous?"
Ramiel didn't look at him. "Lucarion is Pride. He doesn't kill because he hates you. He kills because he shouldn't have to tolerate you at all."