A weak groan echoed softly in the wind.
Jeremy's ember eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the eerie haze clouding his vision. His breath hitched, chest rising unevenly as he tried to comprehend his surroundings. The world was misty, soaked in a damp silence that pressed on his ears. Then his eyes locked on the figure before him—Asher.
The boy who saved him.
The moment he saw that silver hair, like strands of moonlight against a twilight sky, and those piercing emerald eyes filled with relief, Jeremy's heart swelled with emotion. He choked on a sob as the memories came crashing in—the metallic stench of the prison, the cold, heartless voices of his parents tormenting him, the echo of his screams. It hadn't been real. Yet it had felt so real. And then Asher appeared, like a blazing light through a suffocating nightmare.
Without hesitation, Jeremy launched himself forward, arms wrapping tightly around Asher's lean frame. His lips trembled as his head buried in the crook of Asher's neck, tears dampening the boy's snow-pale skin.
"I thought… I'd never get out," Jeremy whispered shakily.
A soft, soothing hand stroked his hair.
"It's okay, Jimmy," Asher's voice was low and velvety. "I'm here now. And I'm absolutely not going anywhere."
Jeremy's heart soared at the assurance, but it wasn't just safety that made him cling tighter—it was love. That kiss they'd shared, however sudden, had ignited a flame in his chest. And now, seeing Asher hold him, he knew—knew—his feelings weren't one-sided.
But before he could speak, a sudden violent convulsion wracked Asher's body. Blood spewed from his mouth, staining the ground beneath him. Jeremy gasped, his arms pulling back in alarm.
"Asher!"
Asher stumbled, clutching his stomach. His beautiful face contorted in agony. Jeremy's eyes scanned the area—and then he saw it.
The fog.
Thick. Malevolent. Alive.
It coiled like a serpent, and realization struck like thunder: This wasn't natural. This was Lamia's creation. If Asher had lingered here too long, it must have started affecting him too.
"Asher, the fog!" Jeremy cried. "It's corrupting you. You've been here too long. We have to get out—now!"
But Asher only groaned and gave a tormented shake of his head.
"I can't… not without Ezekiel," he whispered, turning his emerald gaze toward the lifeless boy lying nearby, bones pale against the dark grass.
Jeremy froze, frustration boiling in his chest. "Ezekiel? That Ezekiel? The one who hurt you?! You're bleeding for him? Risking your life again?"
Asher didn't answer right away. His expression was unreadable. Torn. And then he looked up, eyes glistening.
"Jimmy… I care about you. You're my companion, my anchor, the one who stood by me through everything in the Dark Trench. I fell in love with you there. But before that… there was Zeke."
He swallowed hard, stepping toward Ezekiel's body.
"He saved me once. When I was just a broken child drowning in pain, he pulled me out. He was my first guardian angel before I knew I could be anyone's."
Jeremy stared, chest tightening.
"Was it because you're gay?" he asked softly. "I wouldn't have known… not until that kiss. Your build, your presence—you hide it well."
Asher wiped away a stubborn tear. "Yeah… partly. But there's more to it. The past is... something I still don't want to face. Not yet."
He knelt beside Ezekiel's corpse, ghost-pale fingers caressing the hollow of his cheeks, eyes hollow but reverent. The dizzy spell hit again—his magic was trying to activate, Jeremy realized.
And that terrified him.
"Asher… please," Jeremy stepped closer. "Every time you use your powers like this, something goes wrong. I can't lose you."
Asher didn't look back. "And I can't lose him, Jeremy. You know how hard I fought for you. Why wouldn't I do the same for him?"
His words sliced deep.
A beat of silence passed before Asher closed his eyes and began to chant softly. Jeremy's breath caught—Latin. Ancient prayer. Powerful magic.
The air changed.
The ground trembled.
And suddenly, the fog screamed.
It twisted violently, a demonic shriek reverberating through the garden. Jeremy's eyes went wide in horror.
"It's alive… the fog is alive!"
"Asher, we have to go—now!" he screamed.
But Asher wouldn't budge.
Then, with unnatural speed, the fog grabbed Jeremy, lifting him into the sky like a marionette on invisible strings. Bones cracked under its pressure as Jeremy screamed in anguish.
"Let go of me, you evil entity!" he roared.
Asher turned, fury igniting in his gaze. "Put him down!"
But the fog wasn't finished. A blast of force sent Asher hurtling through the air, slamming into a tree with bone-breaking impact. He cried out in agony as he collapsed to the ground, body bruised and ankle twisted unnaturally.
Jeremy writhed in the sky, screams echoing, his body snapping under the pressure.
"So goodbye… Jeremy…" the fog hissed—and then dropped him.
He fell.
The air rushed past him like claws. The ground drew near.
And then everything stopped.
Midair.
Jeremy blinked. He was… floating?
The fog hissed again.
"Who's there?!"
A radiant light cut through the gloom. And from the shadows stepped Ava, cloaked in brilliance, her presence divine.
The fog shriveled beneath her aura. She walked calmly, dangerously graceful.
"I think it's time to go back to the underworld where you belong," Ava said icily. From her chest burst a searing column of light, slashing through the fog like holy fire.
The entity shrieked as the ground cracked open in a fiery chasm. The fog was pulled screaming into the pit, a demon banished. A final wail echoed as the pit sealed with a rumble.
Jeremy dropped gently to the ground, coughing but alive. He blinked up at Ava in stunned disbelief.
"Could things get any weirder?" he muttered.
But Asher—where was Asher?
Jeremy stumbled through the garden. He found Ezekiel's body… and then saw Asher kneeling beside it again.
"Thanks, Ava," Asher said without looking up. "Please—help me bring him back. His soul's not gone yet. We still have time."
But Ava's face was grave.
"I'm sorry, Asher," she said softly. "It's too late. His soul was dragged to Hell the moment he died. It's sealed… permanently."
Asher froze.
"No…" he whispered.
"I know what you're thinking," Ava continued. "But we cannot wage war with Lucifer. Not even the divine should tempt that fate."
But Asher stood, body trembling. His eyes—once soft—turned to fire.
"Then what's the point of being a divine being?" he whispered. "If I can't protect the people I love? If I can't fight the dark? I'm going to Hell—and I'm bringing Ezekiel's soul back."
The silence was thunderous.
Jeremy choked, "You're joking…"
But Asher wasn't.
His expression was set. Steeled. Determined.
Ava, Jeremy, and even Harlan—who had been lurking awkwardly behind her—stared at him as if he had lost his mind.
A mortal. Declaring war on the King of Hell.
But Asher's voice rang through the garden like a bell of reckoning:
"Lucifer should be afraid of me they don't call me the divine being for nothing."