Azrail woke to the sensation of cold metal biting into her skin.
Her wrists were bound. Tightly.
The dull ache in the back of her skull was a persistent throb, a grim reminder of her capture. She forced her eyes open, blinking against the dim blue glow that filled the space. Her vision was hazy at first, but as it cleared, her stomach sank.
This was not Earth.
The walls around her were jagged, carved from black stone that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The edges glistened faintly, like obsidian kissed with fire, while faint blue flames flickered in sconces along the walls. The light didn't just illuminate—it pulsed, like a heartbeat, casting eerie shadows that shifted unnaturally, as if alive.
Azrail tugged at her restraints, testing them. Strong. Reinforced. Not ordinary metal—something more. The faint, glowing runes etched into the shackles made her gut churn.
Magic.
Her heart pounded, but not with fear. Fury ignited in her veins. She wasn't the type to cower. She had survived a collapsing world, faced off against monsters that had once been human, and come out the other side unbroken.
This was just another fight.
Her jaw clenched as she yanked at the restraints again, ignoring the way the metal dug into her skin. Her body was taut with frustration, muscles coiled like a predator waiting to strike.
She had been captured.
And she had a very good idea who was responsible.
The heavy door at the far end of the chamber creaked open, the sound reverberating through the still air.
Footsteps followed, deliberate and unhurried.
Azrail's eyes snapped to the figure that stepped inside.
Asmodeus.
The Demon King.
He was tall, impossibly so, his presence almost filling the room. A long, black coat flowed behind him, the fabric moving like liquid shadow. Symbols, faintly glowing and impossible to decipher, adorned the edges of his coat. His boots echoed against the stone floor as he approached, each step as measured as the tick of a clock.
Azrail had faced monsters before. But never one like him.
The air seemed heavier around him, as if his very existence distorted reality. His power wasn't loud or chaotic—it was silent, commanding, and suffocating.
His crimson eyes burned as they locked onto hers, a gaze so intense it felt like he could peel back her thoughts layer by layer.
"You are awake."
Azrail glared at him, her lips curling into a sneer. "No shit."
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn't one of amusement. It was predatory. "Still defiant. Good."
He took another step forward, his movements smooth, almost feline.
Azrail tugged at her chains again, the faint clink of metal echoing in the silence. "Let me go."
Asmodeus tilted his head slightly, as though considering her demand. "And why would I do that?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Because if you don't, I'll make you regret it."
His smirk widened. "Bold. But empty threats will not serve you here."
Her muscles coiled tighter, a growl bubbling in her throat. "Try me."
Asmodeus let out a soft chuckle, but it wasn't warm—it was cold, laced with dark amusement. "You are fascinating."
Azrail hated the way he said it, like she was some sort of experiment, a puzzle he intended to solve.
He stopped just a few feet from her, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her. "Do you know why you are here?"
Azrail's jaw tightened. "Because you have a control issue?"
His chuckle was low and brief. "No. You are here because you are an anomaly."
Her gaze sharpened. "The virus didn't affect me."
He inclined his head slightly, as if confirming her statement. "Correct. The plague that has consumed your world did not touch you. You should be dead—or worse. Yet, here you stand."
Azrail's stomach twisted, but she refused to let him see her uncertainty. She raised her chin defiantly. "So what? I'm immune. Big deal."
His crimson eyes seemed to darken, their glow intensifying. "No. You are not merely immune. You are something more."
Her pulse quickened, but she forced her expression to remain blank. "And what exactly do you think I am?"
His gaze never wavered. "A key."
Her blood ran cold at the word. "A key to what?"
Asmodeus stepped closer, now so near that she could feel the faint energy radiating from him. It was like standing too close to a storm, the air charged and electric.
"You are connected to the plague in ways even I do not fully understand," he murmured, his tone almost thoughtful. "The power within you is dormant, but it is there. And it is… formidable."
Azrail's jaw tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Liar," he said softly.
Before she could react, he moved.
One moment, he was standing a few feet away. The next, he was inches from her, his presence overwhelming.
Azrail refused to flinch, though her instincts screamed at her to move, to fight.
Asmodeus lifted a hand, his fingers stopping just short of her throat.
Azrail's breath hitched—not out of fear, but because the second his hand came close, she felt it.
A strange, pulling sensation deep in her chest.
Like something stirring, something waking.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she forced herself to speak. "What the hell are you doing?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Confirming something."
"Like what?"
He didn't answer. Instead, his eyes burned brighter, and she swore she felt heat radiating from him, a heat that seemed to sink beneath her skin, into her very soul.
And then he stepped back.
The strange sensation faded, leaving Azrail feeling strangely hollow.
"You are not what I expected," Asmodeus said, his voice quieter now, almost to himself.
Azrail forced a scoff. "Glad to disappoint you."
His lips curved into that infuriating smirk again. "You do not disappoint, Azrail."
She froze.
He had said her name.
Her pulse quickened. She had never told him her name.
Her voice was sharp. "How do you know who I am?"
Asmodeus turned slightly, his expression unreadable. "I know everything about you."
The weight of his words pressed down on her, but she refused to show it. Instead, she yanked at her chains again, the metal biting into her wrists. "What do you want from me?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he turned toward the door, his long coat sweeping behind him like a shadow.
"This will be your chamber for now," he said, his tone as calm and commanding as ever. "Get comfortable. You won't be leaving anytime soon."
Azrail's glare could have melted steel. "Watch me."
Asmodeus paused in the doorway, glancing at her over his shoulder.
"Oh, I will."
Then he was gone.
The door slammed shut behind him, the sound of a heavy locking mechanism clicking into place echoing through the chamber.
Azrail exhaled sharply, her mind racing.
She was trapped.
For now.
But she wouldn't stay that way for long.
Her jaw set, her determination hardening like steel.
Asmodeus had made a mistake bringing her here.
Because when she got out—and she would—he was going to regret it.