Chapter 62 - Hell’s Third Prince Revealed

The air inside the dome was thick, electric with tension.

"If you weren't third in line for the throne of the underworld, I would've called you a fumbling imbecile. What are you thinking? You'll bring all of the Celestial fury upon us!" Elijah snapped, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence like a blade.

Zython, unbothered, merely grinned, all teeth and mischief, his arms casually folded across his chest. "Ah, c'mon, Angel. I was just having fun. Besides, I somehow managed to get my powers to work in a powerless dome, so that's something."

Elijah's expression darkened. "Yes, I was wondering about that. Just exactly how did you do that?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Zython shrugged, still looking far too pleased with himself. "Guess I'm more powerful than I thought."

"Wait," Bastian interjected, his brows furrowing. "You're not prisoners…?"

Zython snorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What gave it away?"

Bastian's eyes flickered with realization. "But you're not angels or trainees either… You mentioned third in line to the underworld?" And then it hit him like a divine thunderbolt. His body tensed, his stance shifting into a defensive position. "DEMONS!" he roared, stepping back as he looked over his shoulder at his group. "This dome wasn't made to block out demon energy but enhance it for the hordes—he still has his powers!"

The female angel beside him, Trixie, let out a breath of frustration, her grip on her weapon loosening as she stomped forward. "No wonder he and his lackeys were beating us!" She shot a glare at Zython and his two demon cohorts. "Cheaters!"

Zython smirked, throwing his arms out as if the answer was obvious. "Demon? We don't play fair, girl."

"We're wasting time!" Elijah snapped, his voice urgent. "We're almost out of time. To Anastasia, we've been in here for days—if not months. We need to take Bastian and go!"

Bastian hesitated, staring at Elijah with a mix of confusion and distrust. "Wait, why do I know that name?" He took a small step forward, his eyes searching Elijah's face for answers.

Elijah's face hardened. "No time to explain, Bastian. You need to come with us—NOW."

Bastian instinctively took a step back. "I don't know you. There's no way I'm going anywhere with you."

Elijah sighed, his patience wearing thin. He turned slightly, muttering something to Zython that only the demon could hear. "Take him."

Zython groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. "Remind me why we're rescuing this useless being again?"

Elijah's gaze flicked back to him, his voice a hushed warning. "If you want the child, you need to do something for Anastasia first. You need her trust. Rescuing Bastian assures that trust—especially after you tried to force her into your bed since you've known her. Do as I ask."

Zython's jaw ticked, but after a beat, he rolled his shoulders and sighed. "Fine. Whatever." Without another word, he and his demons lunged forward, gripping Bastian roughly by the arms while effortlessly fending off the others who tried to interfere.

Bastian struggled but realized quickly that brute force wasn't going to free him. "Please," he growled through clenched teeth. "Bring them with us. They would be of use."

Elijah turned to him, his gaze unwavering. "Too many of you will give us away, and if you've been here long enough, you should already know that."

Bastian exhaled sharply. He knew Elijah was right, but he had to try. "We will go willingly. We'll fight on your side."

Zython raised an eyebrow as he continued to drag Bastian forward. "Well, look at that. The almighty Bastian, begging. I like it."

Bastian snarled, glaring at the demon. "I don't even know you, demon, so hold your tongue."

Zython suddenly yanked Bastian closer, their faces inches apart. "Oh, but you do, Bastian Webber." His voice was low, venomous. "I should have killed you the minute we met. But then again, you would'nt have created the child that I need."

Bastian froze, his breath catching. "What… what did you say?"

Zython smirked. "You heard me. Now move it!" He shoved Bastian forward, snapping him out of his daze.

"Hold on!" Matt suddenly barked. "Firstly, if Bastian lost his memory like you say, then shut the fuck up and let us refresh his memory our way, you devil bastard. And secondly, we could use the numbers. Let's take his friends with us if they agree to fight on our side."

Elijah and Zython exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between them. Finally, Elijah stepped forward, surveying the group of angels who stood, helpless and watchful. His gaze locked onto the female angel who had spoken earlier.

"What's your name?"

"Trixisia Chrysalis," she answered, her chin high, her defiance unwavering.

Elijah's brow lifted slightly. "Chrysalis? No doubt daughter of Haniel Chrysalis."

Trixisia's mouth parted slightly. "How did you kn—"

"You will do," Elijah cut her off before scanning the others. "Names."

"Hugh Gregorios."

"Jacob Gibbethon."

"Phillip Silvius."

Elijah studied them for a moment, tilting his head in curiosity. "As children of archangels and seraphim, how did you all manage to get yourselves captured?"

They all looked away, shame burning on their faces—except for Trixisia. She straightened, meeting Elijah's stare head-on. "And who are you?"

Elijah smirked. "Archangel Elijah Silvius. Although, after all this, I may be demoted." He let the words hang before adding, "If you fight on our side, help us get out of the Celestial City, you may come with us."

One by one, they nodded, exchanging glances before silently agreeing.

"Finally," Zython groaned. He no longer needed to restrain Bastian, as the angel now stood still, his expression distant, his mind racing.

A child?

His stomach twisted, the weight of Zython's words pressing against his chest like a vice.

What child?

The thought shattered through him like lightning, but before he could demand answers, Elijah's voice snapped him back to reality.

"Move. Now."

And just like that, they ran, the heavy tension thick in the air, but Bastian's thoughts had tunneled into one singular, horrifying realization.

Somewhere out there… there was a child.

His child.