Max teleported into Octavia's hallway with a silent ripple of shadow. He didn't bother masking his arrival; the Goetia manor was already saturated with ancient, suffocating magic. One more ripple was just a drop in a very turbulent ocean.
According to the memories that had settled into his mind like dust, both Stolas and Octavia viewed him as a phenomenon—an unusually powerful sinner who had climbed the hierarchy with terrifying speed. In the Goetia world, power wasn't just respected; it was the only thing that made a commoner "acceptable." To date a princess of the Ars Goetia, you had to be more than a boyfriend; you had to be a fortress.
Max knocked once. Soft. Predictable.
The door didn't just open; it was yanked inward. Octavia practically collapsed into him, her arms locking around his waist with a desperate, crushing strength. She felt small, her feathers trembling against his suit.
"Finally," she breathed into his chest. "We're going somewhere, right? Please say we're going somewhere. I can't stand it here. They're screaming again. It never stops."
As if on cue, a shriek tore through the manor's stone bones.
"STOOOLAAAS! YOU INCOMPETENT, FEATHERED DISGRACE!"
Stella's voice was like a serrated blade across glass, loud enough to make the chandeliers overhead rattle in their sockets. Max exhaled, his jaw tightening.
"I'm honestly impressed by how much you tolerate from her," Max muttered, his hand finding the back of Octavia's head. "But she's your mother. So… I won't interfere. Not yet."
Octavia's grip loosened just enough for him to see her face. A single tear was carving a path through the downy feathers near her eye. He wiped it away with his thumb, his touch as gentle as he could make it. She leaned into the contact, closing her eyes as if he were the only source of warmth in a frozen world.
"Come on," he said softly. "It's still night on Earth. Sunrise is an hour away. Want to go watch the world wake up with me?"
Her eyes snapped open, a spark of genuine light returning to them. "Yes," she whispered. "Please. Right now."
Max didn't use a Grimoire. He didn't need one. He simply tore a hole in the air, and they stepped through.
They emerged on a quiet, rolling hillside overlooking a sleeping forest. The air was crisp and carried the scent of pine and damp clover—real air, untainted by the sulfurous smog of the Pride Ring. Fireflies drifted through the tall grass like stray embers. The world was in that sacred, silent moment where the night hasn't quite decided to leave yet.
With a flick of his wrist, a heavy wool blanket unfurled across the grass. A picnic assembled itself out of thin air—hot tea that smelled of cinnamon, fresh fruit, and soft cushions.
Octavia sat down, hugging her knees to her chest. Her feathers were still ruffled from the stress of the manor. Max sat beside her, wrapping a heavy arm around her shoulders. His tail, acting on a mind of its own, curled instinctively around her waist, anchoring her to him.
She melted into him, the tension finally draining out of her frame. "I'm just…" she whispered. "So tired, Max. That's all they do. Yell. Every day. Every year. It feels like the walls are made of their hate."
Max nodded slowly. "Parents argue. On Earth, it's usually over the remote or the bills. But your situation? Yeah. It's… a special kind of toxic. But your father loves you, Via. More than the stars he studies. That much is obvious to anyone with eyes."
He hesitated, thinking of the screaming woman back at the manor. "Your mother, though… I don't think she's trying anymore. She's just feeding the fire."
A sandwich floated gently from the basket into Octavia's hands. She took a small bite, a tired but grateful smile touching her beak.
"I hope… we can still see the Stars of Azathoth someday," she murmured, looking up at the dim, hazy sky. "Dad promised me. A long time ago. Before everything broke."
Max looked up at the mundane Earth stars. They were pretty, but they were distant and cold. Then he looked at Octavia.
"I promise," he said, his voice dropping into that low, resonant tone that carried the weight of a Primordial. "I'll get you there. You and your father. I'll make sure you see every star in the cosmos, by any means necessary."
He raised his hand toward the heavens.
The clouds above them didn't just drift; they peeled apart like velvet curtains. The atmospheric haze of Earth vanished, replaced by a sky that shouldn't exist. Stars burned with impossible, piercing clarity—sharp, infinite, and swirling in celestial patterns that defied modern astronomy. The heavens looked as if they had been carved open just for her to witness.
Octavia gasped, her sandwich forgotten. "Amazing," she whispered, her eyes wide. "I didn't know magic like that was possible. Not without a Legion's worth of energy."
She shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. Max's heart stumbled in his chest—a strange, human sensation for a being of his magnitude.
"I… found an old Grimoire," he lied, the words tasting like copper. "Sloth Ring. Weird weather spells. Thought I'd try one out for a special occasion."
It was complete nonsense, but she didn't care. She was finally relaxed.
"Thank you," she murmured. "At least I have a boyfriend who can deal with my family drama."
"Hey," Max said, lifting her chin so she had to look at him. "You're never 'too much.' I mean that. I'm a sinner, Via. Technically, I'm at the bottom of the food chain. You're royalty. Charlie is a literal crown princess. And yet, you still chose me."
Her feathers fluffed in shy embarrassment, a soft hoot escaping her.
"Enough to sign the contract," Max added with a grin. "Speaking of… what clause did you add? I never actually checked the fine print on yours."
The Harem Contract allowed each participant to add one personal, unbreakable clause. A unique promise.
Octavia chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I don't remember the exact wording," she admitted. "It was months ago. And we just got back from that Extermination 'vacation' at the palace. Dad's been… distracted."
Max snorted, thinking of the frantic, lust-filled phone calls Stolas usually made to a certain red Imp. "Yeah. I bet he has been."
The horizon began to glow with the first embers of dawn. Octavia stood up slowly, her silhouette framed against the rising sun. The first gold rays touched her feathers, and she closed her eyes, basking in the light as if the world had finally given her permission to breathe.
"Thank you, Max," she whispered. "It's beautiful."
She knelt back down and hugged him tightly—a real, genuine hug that wasn't fueled by fear this time. Max hugged her back, his tail wagging with a rhythmic thwack-thwack against the grass.
"You're wagging," she teased, pulling back with a smirk.
"I have zero control over it. It's a biological betrayal."
"Still cute."
He coughed, trying to regain some of his "Primordial" dignity. "Alright. Let's head back. Pretty sure your parents have yelled themselves hoarse by now."
The picnic dissolved into shadows. A small bundle of sandwiches remained in Octavia's hands—a snack for later.
"You're pretty good for a sinner," she said, her mood infinitely improved.
Max opened the portal back to the manor. He stepped through first, shielding her from the transition—and slammed directly into a tall, feathered chest.
He looked up.
Stolas stood there, his long cloak ruffled and his expression carved from absolute ice. His four eyes were narrowed, glowing with a faint, dangerous violet light.
Octavia groaned, seeing the look on her father's face. She slipped past them both, murmuring a quick "Thanks, Max!" before vanishing into her room and shutting the door before the explosion could happen.
Stolas folded his long, slender arms. The air in the hallway grew cold, the shadows stretching toward Max like reaching fingers.
"A word, Max," Stolas said, his voice vibrating with the authority of a Prince of Hell.
Max adjusted his tie, meeting the Goetia's gaze. He knew this conversation was going to be an uphill battle.
"I'm all ears, Stolas."