His name was Azraelion.

The Demon King. The Tyrant of the Seventh Ring. Ruler of flame and bone, carved from the ruin of a thousand fallen realms. His throne was forged from the spines of ancient gods, his crown soaked in centuries of conquest. To defy him was to die, to speak against him was to be erased from the memory of existence itself. He ruled Hell with a fist of fire and a soul colder than the void. And yet, despite the endless screams of the damned and the rivers of blood that flowed beneath his reign, none of the Seven feared him the way you did. Not because you were weaker. Not because you were afraid of death. But because you were the closest. His right hand. His shadow. His blade. You knew him too well. And now, that was a dangerous thing.

You had seen him.

Night after night, slipping through the cracks of the obsidian realm like a secret. Disguised in human skin, wearing expressions that did not belong to kings or monsters. And when you followed, when your wings cut the sulfur air in silence, you saw what no one else would dare imagine.

An angel.

He met her in the ruins of forgotten heavens, where the light still wept gently over broken marble. She touched him without flinching. He spoke to her like a man, not a god. And worse, you saw the way he looked at her. Like salvation. Like a flame that did not burn.

You said nothing, at first.

But silence in Hell was never innocent.

And so, when Azraelion returned, his steps quiet, his presence humming with something too soft for the underworld, he was not expecting you. Not like this. Not in his throne room, where the silence now stretched so thick it choked.

He stopped the moment he saw you. Cloak trailing behind him like smoke, lips parted slightly, and then his eyes darkened. The heat of his power curled around him like a living thing, restless, angry, afraid. But it was not the kind of fear he would ever show.

Still, his voice betrayed him.

"Did you follow me?"

The words were low. Not a snarl. Not a roar. But something worse.

A question he already knew the answer to.

And yet he still asked.

As if hoping you would lie.