The ruins collapsed with a deafening roar.

  Stone cracked, the weight of Hell itself bearing down, and the ground beneath Sariel gave way. She barely had time to register the searing pain from the mark on her skin before she was falling.

  The abyss swallowed her whole.

  The last thing she saw was Kairos lunging forward—his golden eyes widening in alarm—before the darkness took her.

  Then—nothing.

  ---

  The Descent into the Maw

  Sariel awoke to the taste of iron.

  Blood—thick and metallic—coated the back of her throat. The air was heavy, humid, oppressive in a way that made her lungs feel like they were shrinking with every breath.

  She was lying on something wet. Not water. Not fire.

  Something in between.

  Her vision swam, adjusting to the dim, flickering light. The cavern she had fallen into was breathing. The walls expanded and contracted in slow, rhythmic pulses, like a living, festering wound beneath the surface of Hell.

  Sariel pushed herself up with trembling arms, her body aching from the impact. Her wings—half-burnt, ragged—twitched against her back as she forced herself onto her knees.

  The mark on her wrist was burning.

  And she wasn’t alone.

  “Move too fast, and the Maw will eat you whole.”

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  The voice was smooth, but with an edge sharp enough to cut bone.

  Sariel stiffened.

  She turned her head slowly—her every instinct screaming danger—and found herself face-to-face with a demon she had never seen before.

  He was perched on a jagged rock formation, one knee bent, the other leg dangling lazily over the edge.

  His skin was ashen gray, etched with glowing red sigils that pulsed faintly with each breath he took. His hair was a deep, ink-black cascade over his shoulders, and his eyes—black sclera, violet irises—watched her with the kind of casual amusement that only came from someone who knew they were the most dangerous thing in the room.

  He tilted his head. “You’re not what I expected.”

  Sariel forced herself upright, ignoring the sting of her muscles. “Who are you?”

  The demon smiled, all sharp teeth and curiosity. “Names are power, little cherubim.” He gestured vaguely. “But you can call me Vael.”

  Sariel’s pulse quickened.

  She had heard that name before.

  Vael wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t a noble.

  He was a broker. A whisperer. A weaver of chains that bound souls to their fates.

  And he was looking at her like she was a particularly interesting puzzle.

  Sariel swallowed. “Where am I?”

  Vael stretched, rolling his shoulders. “The Maw.” His lips twitched. “It’s where Hell keeps the things it doesn’t quite know what to do with.”

  Sariel’s stomach twisted.

  She had read of the Maw in the celestial archives. It wasn’t a prison in the traditional sense. It was a holding place for anomalies, for those who slipped through the cracks of fate.

  For those who did not belong.

  Vael studied her, tapping his fingers against his knee. “I have to say, I’m surprised.”

  Sariel narrowed her eyes. “By what?”

  Vael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “By the fact that Lucifer hasn’t claimed you yet.”

  Sariel felt the heat of the mark on her wrist. That wasn’t entirely true.

  Lucifer had marked her. But something—someone—had interrupted the process.

  And now, she was here.

  Vael smirked, watching her closely. “You’re in a very… delicate position, little cherub.”

  Sariel exhaled sharply. “I’m aware.”

  Vael chuckled. “No, I don’t think you are.” He lifted his hand, and the red sigils on his skin flared.

  The mark on her wrist responded.

  Sariel gasped as a sharp pain shot through her veins, like molten chains tightening around her very essence.

  Vael hummed. “See, Lucifer’s claim on you? It’s unfinished.” He tilted his head. “And in Hell, unfinished things… they’re very tempting.”

  Sariel’s breathing was uneven. “You think I’m up for grabs?”

  Vael grinned. “You are up for grabs.”

  Sariel clenched her jaw. “I won’t serve anyone.”

  Vael’s grin widened. “Oh, I like you.”

  Sariel took a slow step back. “What do you want?”

  Vael leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper.

  “I want to see who gets to you first.”

  ---

  The Chains Begin to Tighten

  The realization settled over her like a slow-moving storm.

  She was caught in a war she had never asked to be part of.

  Lucifer wanted her. That much was clear.

  But something—something ancient—had interrupted his claim.

  And now?

  Now, she was stranded in a place where even Hell itself did not know what to do with her.

  Vael stood, stretching lazily. “You should start running, by the way.”

  Sariel’s eyes snapped to him. “What?”

  Vael grinned. “The Maw doesn’t like indecision.” He gestured toward the darkness behind her. “And it’s about to make you choose.”

  The ground beneath her shifted.

  Sariel’s pulse spiked.

  A deep, guttural growl echoed through the cavern.

  Vael winked. “Good luck, little cherub.”

  And then—he vanished.

  Sariel barely had time to react before the shadows lurched forward.

  The Maw had decided.

  And it was coming for her.