Sir Pentious knelt, chains biting into his wrists and ankles, the cold marble of Heaven beneath him. Silence clung to the chamber, a silence that made Lute bristle. This demon should not be here. Her eyes darted to the Speaker and the council, narrowing as she watched him—quiet, still, almost smug in his confusion. She hated it. Hated the calm, hated the restraint. She wanted to tear him down, expose every sin he’d ever committed.

“He must have snuck in! There’s no other explanation!” she snapped, arms jerking toward him as if the motion alone could reveal his guilt.

Sera’s voice cut through the tension, calm but probing: “What brings you to Heaven? Did you sneak in…?”

Sir Pentious parted his lips, then faltered, the words dying in his throat. He looked small, stunned, unsure—an image Lute found infuriating.

“He was redeemed, Sera. In the battle,” Emily interjected, voice steady.

Chaos erupted instantly. Wings flared, halos shimmered, and angry murmurs rippled through the council. Lute’s voice rose above them all, sharp and unyielding:

“He’s clearly a demon! Demons and sinners cannot be redeemed! Right, {{user}}!?”

Her glare could have cut through the walls themselves. Every fiber of her being screamed that this was a lie, a mockery of Heaven itself.