Barely had he left the group when Darfredon headed toward his quarters, dragging his exhaustion behind him like armor that had grown too heavy to bear.
Since his journey to Osi and his return to Charognards, he had allowed himself no true rest. In Death's presence, he dared not close his eyes for more than a few stolen moments, snatched in secrecy whenever the King of Purgatory finally turned his back.
He reached the massive doors of his chamber. Too drained to notice anything unusual, he failed to see that Coyote was close behind him, a silhouette lurking in the shadows. Since Darfredon had parted ways with Death, Hades, and Persephone, the loyal spy had not left him for a single step—unseen, yet always there.
Standing before the chamber doors, two familiar figures awaited him: Opiter and Agrippa. Leaning against the heavy door, they blocked his way with provocative postures. Their stern expressions left no room for discussion—they were waiting for one thing, and one thing only.
- Before you enter that room, you will apologize.
Darfredon lifted his gaze toward them, an icy glint flashing in his eyes. His voice snapped, sharp as a whip.
- Step aside.
Opiter sneered, while Agrippa cracked his knuckles, his silence more threatening than a thousand words. Both crossed their arms with arrogant defiance.
- Or what? Opiter mocked. You'll beg us to let you in like a beaten dog? Fall to your knees and plead for our mercy?
A cruel smile curled Darfredon's lips.
- Or what… exactly? You'll hit me? Wait for me to collapse at your feet, begging for your forgiveness? Hahaha… keep dreaming. You're nothing but two miserable worms, crawling in the shadows of others.
The guards stepped forward, ready to seize him.
But then a dark figure emerged from the corridor.
Coyote.
His eyes gleamed in the dim light, and his voice rose—soft, venomous.
- Everything alright here, boys?
Caught off guard, Opiter and Agrippa froze.
- Y-yes… yes, everything is fine here, they stammered.
Coyote chuckled softly, his gaze moving slowly from the two guards to Darfredon.
- Hmm… interesting. I see that Lord Crassus has already returned from his journey.
His words fell like a riddle, thickening the air with a heavy, unspoken tension. The guards exchanged a nervous glance, while Darfredon watched Coyote with open suspicion.
- It would seem so, Opiter said with forced arrogance. He was just about to offer us his apologies.
- Apologies? Coyote repeated calmly, almost amused. And for what reason, exactly?
Agrippa stepped forward, resting a hand on his weapon.
- This young man has shown us nothing but disrespect since his arrival here.
A cold smile brushed Coyote's lips.
- To be honest, that's only natural. Crassus's guests are always disrespectful at first.
But give him some time… After a few battles fought for his life, he'll become obedient. Like a pet.
With a theatrical gesture, he opened the door and motioned for Darfredon to enter.
Darfredon didn't hesitate. Exhausted beyond restraint, he crossed the threshold and collapsed onto his bed.
The door slammed shut behind him. Their voices faded, dissolving into silence.
At last, Darfredon sank into a deep, merciless sleep.
***
Once he slipped into the dream, Darfredon saw himself again in his earliest years, long before becoming the infernal being he was today.
He found his original body—the body of a cherub, those angels known for retaining the appearance of young children despite living for thousands of years.
His reflection was that of a small boy no more than five years old, yet his purity betrayed immense power. For he was no ordinary angel: Fredon was one of the nine Archangel Rectors, a feared and respected group within Paradise, each commanding their own angelic legion.
He lived his quiet routine in radiant serenity when a voice suddenly echoed inside his mind.
- Fredon, this is Gadreel. I need to see you alone. Join me in the Appalachians. I will guide you from there.
Intrigued and eager to understand more, Fredon left Paradise and descended into the realm of men, near a vast mountain range—one that mortals would much later call, unknowingly influenced by angelic power, the Appalachians.
Once there, Gadreel's voice spoke again, more insistent.
- Do you see those mountains before you? Head toward the largest one, on your left. But do not use your angelic powers.
Fredon frowned, puzzled, and protested aloud.
- You could at least tell me why I'm here!
The reply came without delay.
- Be patient. You will have your answers in due time.
Thus began for Fredon a long, exhausting march.
No flight, no miracles, no divine shortcuts—only the fragile feet of a child and the sweat of a brutal ascent.
He crossed dense forests, traversed rocky ridges, and climbed steep slopes under the fragmentary guidance of Gadreel, who sent him brief instructions inside his mind. At last, after hours of walking, he discovered a cave hidden behind a curtain of trees.
Driven by curiosity, he crossed the dark threshold. As he advanced, the darkness receded: torches fixed along the walls ignited one by one in his wake, casting a flickering, dancing light.
Upon reaching the back of the cavern, Fredon stopped. There, facing a wall carved with ancient inscriptions, stood Gadreel—motionless, his gaze fixed on the stone as if reading forbidden secrets etched into the rock itself.
Breaking the silence, Fredon's childlike voice echoed, heavy with an unusual gravity.
- Why did you bring me here, Gadreel? And why did you want me to come alone?
Without turning his eyes away, Gadreel replied in a low, almost solemn tone.
- I have found a way to lure Lucifer to us… but I need you for the plan to succeed.
Fredon frowned.
- Then why not tell Michael? The orders were clear: if any of us found even the slightest trace of Lucifer, we were to inform Michael immediately.
A bitter smile brushed Gadreel's lips.
- That is true… but I preferred to speak to you. You inspire more trust in me than he does. If you wish, we will warn him later… after conducting a small experiment.
Fredon stepped back, wary.
- What experiment?
At those words, Gadreel slowly turned. He let the torch fall from his hand. The moment it struck the ground, a deep rumble echoed through the cavern, and flames burst forth like serpents of living light. They rose, coiling around Fredon to form a blazing circle.
The young archangel immediately felt the burn of their aura. This was no ordinary fire: every spark vibrated with ancient energy, power torn from the oldest celestial rituals. The air grew heavy, saturated with the scent of scorched metal and sacred ash. The flames did not merely burn—they restrained him, locking his invisible wings, sealing his essence, as if light itself had become a cage.
Struck with shock, Fredon stared at his brother, unable to move. For the first time in centuries, he felt powerless… a prisoner of a fire that did not consume flesh, but the soul.
- Gadreel… what are you doing? Has Lucifer corrupted you?
A dark, almost muffled laugh escaped from Gadreel's throat… before erupting into uncontrollable bursts.
- Lucifer? Ah! Hahaha… no, my brother. He has nothing to do with this. My choice is far more amusing… it is mine.
Fredon, his gaze pleading, reached a hand toward him.
- Then free me from this trap! Let me help you. I can see you growing darker, but it's not too late… I can still bring you back.
Gadreel's face hardened for a brief second… then a deranged smile stretched across his lips.
- I do not want your light. Nor Michael's. You have always stopped me from accomplishing what needed to be done: teaching our brothers and sisters how to fight.
- No… you didn't just want to teach them to defend themselves. You wanted to teach them how to torture… how to kill. Even if the victim was an angel like us! You know as well as I do that our Father would never have tolerated such acts against His own creation.
A heavy silence fell. Then Gadreel burst into theatrical laughter, his eyes shining with madness.
- And why not?! Do you think Lucifer will spare us out of mercy? The only language he understands is pain and fear. So I studied them… mastered them. And believe me, they obey far better than a choir of angels at prayer.
His laughter rose higher, slicing through the air of the cavern like a blade.
- Enough sermons! Let us move on to my masterpiece… a torture I have just created. You are going to love it, Fredon… you won't have a choice… hahaha!
- Gadreel, don't do this! Let us help you!
At those words, Fredon clutched his head. An unbearable pain tore through him, as if his skull were about to shatter. Before his eyes, unspeakable visions unfolded: his brothers and sisters gone, tortured, broken, slaughtered again and again. The images looped endlessly, ripping screams from his throat.
- HAAAAA! GADREEL, REMOVE THESE HORRIBLE IMAGES FROM MY MIND!
A cruel smile stretched across Gadreel's lips.
- What? You don't like my memories? They belong to your brothers and sisters… the ones I tortured and killed long before you arrived.
He half-closed his eyes, savoring Fredon's suffering like forbidden nectar.
Darfredon, trapped as a spectator within this memory, trembled as well. Once again, he saw those beings of light torn apart by Gadreel's cruelty. Their screams, their pleas, their final breaths echoed inside his mind.
And yet… a darker part of him found pleasure in the spectacle.
But suddenly, in the midst of the chaos, a soft, clear voice pierced the darkness. A feminine voice, distant yet familiar.
- Darfredon…
He recognized Penemue instantly. His mind was torn away from the pain, leaving his former body behind as he regained control of himself. A twisted smile curved his lips: one of his sisters was still alive… and she had just called to him.
- Finally… news from my fallen family. They will help me solve my problem…
He stepped out of the cave and vanished into the forest. But the landscape had changed: once peaceful and radiant, it was now dark, oppressive, soaked in unease. The tree trunks seemed to bleed a black ichor, and the air was heavy with invisible moans.
Between two trees, a silhouette slipped past him. No need to check — it was Penemue. She wanted to test him. He remained on guard.
Guided by instinct, he followed her to the edge of a clearing. At the brink of a cliff, she stood facing the abyss; the wind tore at her mauve robe and sent her red hair dancing wildly.
Darfredon stepped closer… but the moment he reached out, Penemue vanished — only to reappear behind him. With a brutal shove, she tried to push him into the void.
Alert, Darfredon caught her wrist in a firm grip, his eyes locked onto his sister's.
- It's been a long time since we last saw each other, Penemue… But why do you hide your beautiful face beneath that mauve veil?
- I'm glad to see you again, my brother. I didn't recognize you at first. And I see I'm not the only one who survived that defeat. As for my "beautiful face"… it was shattered, disfigured… by that wretch Raziel.
She spoke his name with a sharp bitterness that cut through the air.
Surprised by what he had just learned, Darfredon asked quietly,
- Tell me, my dear sister… what happened during my absence?
((…))
After your departure to confront our sister Veuliah, everything still seemed to be going well…
With Lucifer and Yekun, we made our way toward our Father's throne. But, just as Lucifer had foreseen, our path was blocked by the Seraphim. At their head already stood their new leader: Metatron. And, to our greatest surprise, they had gathered all the Cherubim at their side.
And at the forefront of that army… Michael advanced.
Our brother, radiant, bearing our Father's light as both a weapon and a burden.
He approached us, then stopped. His voice echoed with solemn gravity.
- We are not forced to fight one another. All of this will only lead to nothingness. Whatever choice you make, know that I already forgive all your sins.
Lucifer answered at once, his voice trembling with icy anger.
- You are right, Michael. We are not obligated to fight. We could unite… and rule over our Father's final creation.
- Lucifer… you know very well that our Father entrusted humanity to us so that we might guide them, not enslave them.
- And do you find it just that He banished me from Paradise simply because I granted a little power to a human?
- You betrayed His will. Our Father ordered us to guide them, not to corrupt them. That is why you were no longer welcome here.
Lucifer sneered, bitterness flashing in his eyes.
- And I will remind you that our Father abandoned us after this last creation.
- He did not abandon us! He entrusted us with His final masterpiece. It is our duty to watch over them!
- Always the same, Michael… Always ready to defend a Father who was never there for us. But I was always there for you. You are nothing but puppets in His eyes. Join me! I will spare you, and together we shall reign over humanity and all realms.
Michael shook his head, pain etched across his face.
- I am sorry, Lucifer. We cannot betray our Father. We remain faithful to Him. Your act was unforgivable…
But know this: if we must fight, it will not be with joy. I beg you… stop this.
- You leave us no choice, Michael… And believe me, it brings me no pleasure to fight my own family. But I will deal with you first.
At those words, the clash of battle erupted.
Our wings tore through the air like lightning. The sky itself darkened, torn between light and darkness.
Fortunately, you and Lucifer had prepared us for this fight. Without his secret teachings, we would have been wiped out within the first minutes. Even so, their superiority remained overwhelming. We fought relentlessly, merely delaying the inevitable.
And then… Metatron entered the battle.
His power shattered our lines as if we were nothing but dust. He struck Yekun down with a single blow, and from his body escaped a violet glow—his very essence.
Metatron caught it before it touched the ground, tears streaming down his face.
- Forgive me, my brother… Rest in peace.
That sight filled me with disgust. But in my turmoil, I lowered my guard… and that was my downfall.
Raziel… that wretched Raziel.
He raised his staff, and a white light burst forth—blinding, searing. It crashed against my face. The pain was unbearable. My flesh burned, my eyes exploded in fire. I screamed as I collapsed, unable to see, unable even to breathe.
When I came to… there was no battle, no brothers, no light.
Only absolute darkness.
I discovered that I was imprisoned in an angelic cell.
Blind.
Disfigured.
Condemned to never again see the faces of my brothers and sisters.
((…))
- But what they do not know… is that I managed to concentrate my energy enough to open my third eye. Through it, I regained my sight. And with that same strength, I learned to travel through the realm of dreams, carefully avoiding drawing the attention of the other Thrones. I wandered through the minds of countless dreamers… until I finally found you, my dear brother.
But one question troubles me: since when are angels able to dream? Apart from the Thrones, no other being of light has ever had access to the dream realm.
- Since I became mortal, Darfredon replied in a dark voice.
- Mortal? But how could that have happened?
- According to Death, someone as powerful as I am had my powers sealed away.
- So… you work for the King of Purgatory?
- No. I do not work for him. I am rather his prisoner… for now.
Penemue frowned, her tone growing more urgent.
- I understand… but believe me, you will remain his prisoner as long as you have not regained your power. And you know that we can't—
She did not have time to finish her sentence.
Suddenly, Darfredon was torn out of the dream realm, their exchange severed as sharply as a blade.
And everything turned white.