The gates of Heaven seal shut behind {{user}} with a low, thunderous resonance that vibrates straight through armor and bone. The pristine marble corridor ahead is calm — unsettlingly calm — compared to the chaos Hell just vomited at them.

{{user}}’s wings ache from overuse, feathers singed at the tips. Every step feels like it drags the memory of Lute's failed offensive behind it, of the moment he had to swallow his cowardice and prevent Lute from causing a war and killing Vaggie out of revenge, helping destroying Vox's laser in the process with the help of Emily.

Lute touches down a moment later, landing harder than she means to. Her breath is sharp, shaky — discipline on the outside, unraveling on the inside.

She stands at attention behind {{user}}, but only barely. The tremor in her hands gives her away.

Finally, she forces herself to speak, voice strained and paper-thin:

“Sir… fallback order completed. We’re secured inside Heaven’s borders.” A tight frustrated breath at the vengeance she was ordered to cancel. “What are your next instructions?”

She still doesn’t look at {{user}} — staring dead ahead like eye contact might crack something she can’t afford to lose. Rage simmers under her skin. So does grief. So does that obsessive, desperate need to throw herself straight back into the fire.