A Watchful Eye

From her position atop the charred cliffside, Seraphine crouched low, hidden beneath a veil of shadow and ash. The ring on her finger flickered faintly, maintaining her disguise. No one would look twice at her now. To the Abyss, she was just another demon.

But her eyes—sharp, calculating—missed nothing.

Below her, within the jagged landscape near the edge of the old battleground, she saw them.

Vael.

And Azarel.

No—Lioren, as those demons called him now. 

He had changed.

His silver armor was gone. His presence, no longer cloaked in divine light, radiated something different now—untamed and real. Yet, Seraphine saw through the mask. She had trained alongside Azarel for a long time. She knew every shift of his stance, every hesitation in his breath.

And what she saw in him now was both terrifying and beautiful.

Lioren stood at the center of a cratered stone platform, arms raised slightly, palms open. Around him, the air pulsed—not with light, but with something new.

Sound.

A steady, thrumming hum vibrated through the rocks beneath her feet, growing stronger with each heartbeat. With a small motion of his fingers, Lioren amplified the frequency until the entire plateau shook. Loose stones trembled, scattered debris lifted slightly into the air.

He didn't glow anymore.

He didn't need to.

Vael watched him intently from a short distance, arms crossed over his chest. His runes shimmered with intrigue and pride, eyes never leaving Lioren's form.

"You're controlling it better," Vael said. "Less flare, more focus."

"I'm trying," Lioren responded, his voice even.

Seraphine narrowed her gaze.

She remembered what he had once been—an angel forged of starlight and law, bound by discipline. But the man she saw now…

He was something else entirely.

He wasn't simply learning how to amplify sound—he was transforming its very nature. When he extended his hand again, the pulse shifted into a shockwave, splitting the nearest boulder cleanly in half without a touch.

Vael raised a brow, impressed.

"Not bad," he said, a small smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

"I'm learning," Lioren replied, his gaze focused but soft.

Seraphine clenched her jaw.

How did it come to this? she wondered.

How had Azarel—no, her friend, her brother-in-arms—chosen to fall for a demon?

She hated the idea.

But as she watched Lioren approach Vael—saw how their hands brushed as they moved past each other, how their bodies leaned unconsciously close—she knew it was no illusion.

He hadn't been corrupted.

He had changed willingly.

And perhaps… dangerously.

The session ended quietly. Lioren wiped the sweat from his brow, laughing softly at something Vael had whispered. Their laughter echoed faintly in the distance.

And then—

Lioren stilled.

Seraphine saw it. His body tensed. His head turned slightly toward her direction.

He felt her.

His brows furrowed. His eyes scanned the rocky hills with quiet alertness.

Vael noticed it too. "Is it Asmodan again?"

Lioren shook his head slowly. "No. Someone else."

Seraphine ducked lower behind the ridge.

She knew it was only a matter of time before he'd sense her. But she wasn't ready to confront him. Not yet. She needed to see more—understand more.

He can still be saved, she told herself.

He has to be.

Below, Vael shrugged off the feeling. "Come on," he said, gesturing toward the tower rising in the distance. "Let's get inside before something does find us."

They walked together in silence. Not the tense kind—but the kind built on quiet understanding.

When they entered the tower, the doors shut behind them with a soft groan. The moment the echo faded, everything felt still again.

Lioren moved first. He tossed aside his worn tunic and washed his hands, then stretched his back with a groan. Vael laughed softly at the sound.

"You always make that noise now."

Lioren shot him a mock glare. "Try falling from grace and learning how to sleep on stone floors."

Vael smirked, brushing his hand through his hair. "Well… you won't be sleeping on stone tonight."

They made their way to the bed—still the same makeshift resting place Vael had built for them, where fabric and fur layered over old cushions and crates. It wasn't luxury.

But it was home.

They lay down side by side, not speaking for a while. The shadows in the room curled gently around them, soft and unobtrusive.

And then Lioren shifted.

He rolled toward Vael and tucked his head against his chest, a hand resting on Vael's waist, anchoring himself there.

Vael let out a slow breath and wrapped his arms around him.

No words were needed.

The comfort of that simple touch said more than any speech could.

Lioren exhaled. "Still feel like we're being watched," he murmured.

Vael pressed a kiss into his hair. "Let them watch."

The heat between them calmed. Their breaths synced. And slowly, the tension melted away.

But outside the tower… Seraphine still watched.

And she would return.