AN AWFUL ESCAPE

Lucian's footsteps echoed faintly as he paced the narrow corridor leading to the eastern wing of the underworld palace. His mind was clouded, and a strange unrest twisted in his chest. The morning had been uneventful, yet something gnawed at him—a sudden stillness where Velma's presence should have been.

He had not seen her since last night. She was always punctual with her duties, often arriving before he did. He told himself not to worry, that perhaps she was given another errand. But as the day lengthened and she remained absent, the unease grew into dread.

He stormed through the servants' quarters, his eyes sharp and searching. "Has anyone seen Velma today?" he demanded.

The maids and guards exchanged confused looks. Some shrugged, others averted their eyes.

"She never returned to her room last night," one maid finally whispered. "We assumed she was summoned elsewhere."

Lucian's heart sank.

He turned away sharply, the pounding of his boots echoing behind him as he hurried to his chamber. He cast a spell upon his mirror, whispering Velma's name. The enchanted glass rippled but showed nothing.

No response.

She wasn't just hidden—she was blocked.

Lucian's fingers curled into fists. Someone powerful was concealing her presence. And he already had an idea of who.

He didn't waste a second. Cloaking himself in shadow magic, he passed through hidden passages of the palace like a ghost. He moved swiftly, keeping to walls, eavesdropping on whispers of the guard rotations, until he overheard what he needed:

"…chained in the south cell… sealed by Azarath's own hand."

Lucian's eyes darkened.

So they had her.

They wouldn't harm her—not yet. Not while the protective spell he'd cast still clung to her aura. But once it wore off…

Lucian's pace quickened.

---

Meanwhile, deep beneath the palace, Velma sat chained in the suffocating darkness. Her wrists ached, and her head throbbed from the fear that twisted around her like a second chain.

She whispered Lucian's name like a prayer.

Her thoughts tangled with memories—of Daniel's kiss, of Azarath's fury, of Zamiel's grip tightening around her. It all felt so far away now. Here, time slowed. Every second was a lifetime.

She hadn't slept. She didn't dare.

But then, a sound.

She straightened.

Footsteps. Light, almost imperceptible.

Then a whisper: "Velma."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "Lucian?"

A figure materialized in the darkness. A hand reached out, his magic glowing faint blue, dissolving the chains one by one.

"You came," she whispered.

"Of course I did," he muttered, lifting her gently to her feet.

"But how did you—"

"I followed the scent of trouble," he said dryly. "And you tend to leave a trail of it."

A small laugh escaped her lips despite the fear.

"Your spell," she said softly, "it protected me."

"I know," he said, eyes meeting hers. "That's why you're still breathing."

She squeezed his hand. "Thank you."

"No time for thanks. We need to leave. Now."

---

Lucian pulled the shadows around them like a cloak. But as they moved through the lower halls, he knew they wouldn't go unnoticed for long.

And he was right.

A pair of guards stepped into their path.

"Halt!"

Lucian didn't hesitate.

A flick of his wrist sent a bolt of raw magic surging through the first guard. He hit the wall with a grunt and crumpled. The second lunged forward with a blade, but Lucian met him head-on. Steel clashed against summoned shadow, and with a powerful strike, Lucian disarmed him and sent him crashing to the floor.

Velma gasped behind him.

"Stay close," he murmured.

More guards approached, drawn by the sounds of the skirmish.

Lucian raised both hands, summoning a wall of force that knocked several off their feet. He moved like a tempest—controlled but relentless. The magic in him surged and roared, furious and radiant.

He protected her with everything he had.

Together, they dashed through corridor after corridor, ducking into hidden halls and side passages only Lucian knew. The stone walls blurred as they moved faster.

Finally, they reached the inner garden near the hidden portal.

Velma's breath was ragged.

"It's almost over," Lucian said, gripping her hand.

"I'm ready," she said, nodding.

He began casting the spell to open the portal.

The circle of light began to form. Wind gathered, energy pulsed, and the doorway to the human world began to shimmer.

Velma stepped forward, but as she was about to cross, a wave of power surged from behind them—cold and oppressive.

The portal flickered and vanished.

They turned.

Standing behind them, cloaked in fury and shadow—were Azarath and Zamiel.

---