Zyren didn't stop running. Twigs snapped beneath his boots, shadows clawed at his heels, and his breath came in ragged gasps. His demonic instincts screamed for him to disappear, to vanish into the wind and never look back. But his heart—what was left of it—knew he couldn't. Not this time.
He had to warn Jaceon.
He burst through the city's edge, the glowing skyline ahead barely calming the storm within him. His thoughts spun like a tornado: Jarvis lied… she played both sides… and now Bal is coming to kill them all.
But just as he neared the street where Jaceon's apartment stood—she appeared.
Jarvis.
Blocking his path like a statue of death. Her arms were folded. Her crimson lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her aura flared with menace.
"Going somewhere, little church rat?" she asked coolly.
Zyren stopped cold, heart hammering. "Move. I need to talk to Jaceon."
She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "Oh? About what? How I summoned Bal to save him? Or… about how you've been busy singing hymns and lighting candles?"
Zyren's jaw clenched. "You don't understand—Bal is planning to kill Jaceon too. He wants revenge."
"Oh, I know," Jarvis whispered, taking a slow step forward. "But you see, Zyren… if you say a word, I'll tell the Devil about your little holy adventures."
Her voice sharpened like a blade.
"About how you go to church… how you pray like some pathetic mortal… how you whisper the Lord's Prayer before killing humans. Imagine how amused our master would be. Or better yet… how furious."
Zyren's throat dried. His limbs trembled. His wings itched to unfurl, to fight or flee, but he was paralyzed.
Jarvis smirked.
"So here's your choice, coward demon. Keep your mouth shut… or become an example of what happens when traitors embrace light."
She leaned in, her breath icy against his face.
"You think Jaceon would protect you? He's barely holding it together as it is. Let this play out. Trust me."
Zyren's fists clenched, his mind warring between fear and conscience.
And just like that… she vanished in smoke.
He was left standing under the flickering streetlights, drowning in silence, torn between betraying his only friends or letting them walk straight into a death trap.
Nextday.....
The air in Jaceon's apartment felt unusually heavy that day.
Jaceon was in the kitchen, tossing a bag of human bones into the disposal like it was yesterday's trash, when he felt it—the shift. The sudden, chilling presence that only came when something ancient crossed into Earth's realm.
Jarvis entered casually, her heels echoing like taunts on the marble floor.
"I have someone I want you to meet," she said with a wicked smirk. "A… new ally."
Jaceon wiped his hands on a rag and raised a brow. "What now?"
Then he stepped into the living room—and froze.
There, seated like a polite guest on the black leather couch, was a boy. Barely seventeen by appearance. Pale skin. Raven hair brushed neatly behind his ears. He wore a perfectly ironed suit and smiled like he owned the world.
"Jaceon," Jarvis said smoothly, "this is Bal. He'll be joining us… and don't worry, he's playing human for now. Easier to blend in."
The moment their eyes met, Jaceon felt it. That suffocating pull. The depth of darkness beneath that youthful shell. It was like staring into a black hole wrapped in a pretty ribbon.
Bal stood up, extending a hand.
"It's an honor," he said softly. Too softly.
Jaceon shook it, carefully. He'd shaken hands with death before—but this felt worse. It felt like betrayal wearing a mask.
Jarvis chuckled lightly. "Bal and I go way back. I figured, with Levi distracting you and Zyren being… himself, we could use a little more firepower. Just in case things get messy."
Jaceon narrowed his eyes. "What kind of messy?"
Bal's smile widened. "The kind where humans and demons alike forget their place."
Zyren stood in the corner, stiff and silent. Jarvis had been watching him like a hawk since they entered. Her stare screamed: Say one word and I'll destroy you.
He wanted to scream. To tell Jaceon the truth—that Bal wasn't here to help, he was here to end him. But his voice caught in his throat. Fear held it hostage.
Jaceon forced a chuckle. "Well… let's see if he can keep up. You're not exactly subtle, Jarvis."
"Oh, don't worry," she purred. "Bal's full of surprises."
Bal turned to Zyren, that same unsettling smile on his face.
"You agree, don't you, Zyren?"
Zyren flinched. Then nodded once. "Yeah. Sure."
And just like that, the game had begun. Bal was inside their circle, Jarvis had tightened the noose, and Zyren was a prisoner of silence.
But Jaceon… he wasn't blind. Something was off. Something reeked beneath the surface. And the way Bal spoke to him, so calm and composed—like he was already rehearsing a eulogy—left a knot in his stomach that wouldn't go away.
He didn't know it yet, but the storm was already above them.