"I was going to take you back with me, but dammit, how am I supposed to do that now that you are on the verge of dying? I can only wait for your soul, that is, if it's being sent to me; if not, I doubt we will ever…meet again," Lucifer mumbled, averting his gaze with what one would call a saddened expression.
Draven didn't say a word but only lay still, breathing as much as he could. Even if he was about to die, he was not entirely sad about it. He got his revenge, although not in the way he wanted, It was still something, and that was enough for him.
He drew a long, deep breath, ready to die, but that's when a voice—that soothing voice he thought he never heard again, sounded.
"D-Draven…" It was Avelina. She was still holding on.
Lucifer turned his head to see her crawling, pulling herself all the way to where Draven was lying helplessly on the floor. "Oh, she's still…alive. What a strong woman you are." He was genuinely impressed.
