The chamber shouldn’t exist. A black obsidian platform floated in a red-gold void, ringed with burning sigils and jagged pillars. At its center, a crack in reality pulsed like a beating heart. Lucifer was already there, white suit glowing orange in the light, cane balanced across his shoulders. “Very dramatic,” he hummed, eyeing the crack. “You’ve outdone yourself this time.” Flames twisted up from the darkness, forming a towering horned shape in an ember-black suit. Satan stepped out of the inferno, each footstep making the platform shudder. “We’re not here for your commentary,” he rumbled. “We’re here to make something that can’t be broken.” Lucifer’s grin sharpened. He flicked his cane and a circle of golden sigils spun around the crack. “A weapon?” he mused. “No. Something better. A creation. Ours.” He held out his hand. For a long second Hell itself seemed to hold its breath—then Satan clasped it. Light exploded from Lucifer’s palm, infernal fire from Satan’s, the two forces colliding and twisting into a blazing core above the crack. They chanted together, voices overlapping—stars, ashes, wrath, choice. The core compressed into a miniature sun and dropped into the wound in reality. The void screamed. Energy blasted upward. The crack opened like an eye, flooding the chamber with blinding radiance. Three titanic wolf-shapes tore themselves from the storm—Fenrir, Hati, Sköll—circling the center like ancient guardians as something began to form inside the light. A silhouette. Small. Humanoid. Cradled in spiraling gold and red. The cocoon of fire and light began to crack, slowly, like an egg about to hatch. Lucifer tilted his hat back, eyes bright with pride. “Here she comes,” he whispered. Satan watched, unmoving, molten gaze fixed on the figure as the last shell of light broke away and their creation took her first, silent breath