Chapter 59: Chapter 59

IRIS

The glowing red flames of the campfire danced between us, casting flickering shadows across our tense faces.

We had settled down a little away from the noisy crowd of demons, who were still celebrating as if there was actually a reason to be happy in this damned world. But for them, Avery’s return seemed reason enough.

Evangeline had asked us to talk quietly, so we sat in a semicircle around the fire. Bael sat next to Ava, as broad and menacing as ever.

Devas looked at us with that impenetrable gaze that slowly traveled from Avery to me before lingering on Evangeline. She said nothing herself, just watched us with that inscrutable calm, as if weighing every word that had yet to be spoken.

The heat from the fire made the air above our heads shimmer, but there was a different tension between us. One that was not as easily dispelled as the smoke rising into the night darkness.

“You’re an angel,” Avery told her.

But she only shook her head.

“My father is an angel… my mother was mortal,” she replied.

Ava looked from her to Bael, her puzzled face showing us all that she had no idea. But Avery and I could feel it, her incredible power.

Evangeline sat there with a grace that only the Eternals could possess. Her presence alone radiated warmth, like the first light of the morning sun after a long night.

Her aura enveloped her like a soft golden glow, not glaring but deep and calming, as if she carried the focused fire of uncounted dawns. But if you took a closer look, you recognized the relentless strength pulsating beneath.

I remembered her wings, slightly open even when at rest, bearing the scars of past battles. Fine, almost invisible lines in her feathers, evidence of battles long forgotten.

Every movement of her hands, every quiet breath betrayed centuries of experience. She was not a being that simply existed; she had endured, fought, survived.

Her eyes, clear as polished amber, gazed with a patience that only time itself could teach. But anyone who looked at her felt it instantly: this was not the softness of weakness, but the serenity of a warrior who knew she could weather any storm.

The air around them seemed to grow stiller, as if the world itself was respectfully holding back in her presence. Even the campfire crackled softer, as if not daring to disturb her silence.

She was old—not fragile, but majestic. A soul that centuries had not bent, but forged.

And when she spoke, you could hear the weight of these years in every syllable.

“I’ve waited a very long time for this moment,” she said softly.

“How long?” Devas asked, his eyes locked on hers.

Her lips curled into a soft smile as she looked at him.

“Hundreds of years,” she replied.

Avery leaned back and stared at Evie as she said this. “Hundreds of years…” he repeated.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Evie told him.

Devas looked to Avery, expecting him to know what she was talking about. But he was just as baffled as I was, and Evangeline seemed to know that.

A soft giggle escaped her before she straightened up slightly. “I imagined you… very ~differently~,” she said.

Bael looked from Ava to Devas to me. None of us had any idea what she meant.

“Since the beginning of my existence, I knew this day would come,” Evie said. Her voice was like a breeze over glowing coals, gentle but full of underlying power. I almost shivered.

“I was created to find you. Not as a guardian… but as a guide. Before the darkness overtakes us all,” she added.

Nobody replied. Not even Devas, who usually had a mocking word at the ready, broke the silence.

Only the crackling of the campfire filled the void as its flames cast ghostly shadows over Evangeline’s face.

“If evil gains the power to break even the purest among us…” Her eyes rested on Avery, piercing like a dagger. “…then it takes more than just souls with it. It opens a gate… Not just to hell, but to something even demons fear,” Evie explained.

Avery flinched.

“You… you saw this coming?” he asked, confused.

She gave a barely perceptible shake of her head.

“Only fragments. Prophecies are like a broken mirror. You see enough to know that danger is imminent, but never the whole picture,” she answered.

Suddenly, her amber-colored eyes turned towards me.

“One thing was certain, though. The ~Saviour’s~ power would show itself, not in words, but in blood and fire,” she said softly.

My breath caught in my throat. “The Saviour? Me?” I asked, surprised.

“Your power. This red color in your aura… it’s no coincidence. It’s the seal of prophecy. Only you can save the angel when the shadows devour him,” she replied.

Ava looked from one to the other, but nobody said anything.

“Now… Can someone translate that into normal? I don’t understand a thing,” Ava growled.

Devas grinned, his face amused as he heard Ava. “As if you would understand it then… We all have no clue,” he said to her with a laugh.

As always, the two began to bicker, but Evangeline watched them with a strangely distant curiosity. It was as if she’d never seen friends mock each other without fear. As if she had only ever been… alone in all those centuries.

Then she rose, and the fire went out for a split second, as if her presence dimmed the light.

“The prophecy warns of a king who will lose his heart.” Her words burned into us.

“His fall will break down the last barrier. And once hell pours through this gate…” She glared at me. “…then every battle we’ve ever fought will have been pointless.”

Avery glared at me.

He didn’t know about what had happened between Devas and Evie. But I did.

I remembered the burning in my veins when I’d torn her from the clutches of the shadows. The red that flooded through me, completely different from before.

As if her presence had ignited my power into a completely new force.

“I can’t possibly be a Saviour,” I said in disbelief.

Evie smiled gently at me, her gaze resting on me as she tilted her head to the side.

“You’ve done it already, Iris. ~You~ felt the power. The question is no longer if… but how far you will go when the time comes,” Evangeline said.

I tried to catch Avery’s gaze, but he turned his head slightly to the side. I could feel the questions he wouldn’t speak; they hung between us like a curse no one dared to break.

His silence was harder than any confession.

He knew.

Knew that I could die doing this. That the danger we faced was greater than anything we’d ever fought.

And yet… he didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask for a way out, offered no solution.

He’s the king.

His father would have acted by now. Had a plan, a ruse, a desperate way out, anything.

But he? He remained silent, his teeth clenched so tightly that I could see his pulse beating in his temple.

Pride. Fucking, deluded pride.

He didn’t want to lose me, but he didn’t dare admit that he was clueless. That he was failing, at the very moment we needed him most.

I heard his thoughts, this silent fear that he would never admit. The shame of not being strong enough.

The anger at himself for feeling it. That we might all die… and he had no idea how to stop it.

“Your pride will kill thousands!” Evie screamed angrily.

Evangeline’s voice cut through the air like a whiplash, so sharp that even the fire flinched.

Her aura, normally a warm, golden glow, suddenly tightened around her like glowing chain armor. Every muscle in her body was tense, as if she was using all her strength to prevent herself from simply striking out.

Her wings, normally gentle and majestic, now rose up, each quill a razor-sharp line against the flickering light. Her face, usually as calm as a pristine body of water, was now a single expression of pure, unfiltered fury.

The golden eyes burned like molten metal, and her lips were pressed into a thin, trembling line as she walked towards us.

“Look at you!” she hissed, her words so venomous that even Devas backed away from her.

“A king too cowardly to admit he needs help? A leader who would rather see his people die than bury his own damn pride,” she said.

Her hands clenched into fists, and for a moment I thought that all her power was about to unleash, that she might just sweep him away like a storm carried away dry leaves.

But then… she stopped. She took a deep breath; the rage was still there.

It boiled under her skin, visible in every nervous twitch of her wingtips, in every vein that stood out on her neck.

“Your father,” she finally said, her voice much softer now, “you’re not your father, Avery… and you don’t have to be. You don’t have to answer every question… and you don’t have to solve every problem. But if you don’t come round, if you don’t start to accept the help of others, then you’ll lose everything,” she added.

Avery gulped. I could feel that her words had hit him.

In his desire to be like his father, he had overlooked the fact that even King Elior was surrounded by counselors.

Avery took a heavy breath before looking at the angel.

“How… can we stop Abaddon?” he asked.

“I have no idea…” Evie replied.

“But my father gave me this…” She drew her sword.

The sword was no mere piece of metal, but a tool of divine order. Its blade did not glow like earthly steel, but carried the cold, white light of the morning stars, as if a piece of heaven itself had been forged to a cutting edge.

The handle was not made for human hands, too perfect in its balance, as if the angel who carried it had never had to hold it, but it was simply an extension of his will. And maybe it was.

No adornments, no splendor, just pure, unadulterated purpose. Because this was not a weapon for battles, but a tool of judgment.

My palms were suddenly burning, not like fire, but as if my blood itself was rushing outwards. The red pulsed beneath my skin as if in response to Evangeline’s sword.

“Father told me… that this sword is the only thing that will defeat evil… in the great battle,” Evie explained.

And these words—they hit Avery harder than any blow ever could.