Ceres tried to calm herself.
She thanked Captain Hugo for answering her summon and allowed him to return home. Neko and Nugget accompanied Maureen, Granny Morgana, and Eric back to Aquilonis to determine their next steps as the new Holy Beast Masters.
Captain Hugo had already made his choice and set his goal.
As for Cecilion, he refused to leave Delphine's side, remaining with her and the Saintess Knights, even though he himself now bore the mark of a Holy Beast Master.
Delphine, along with Seiryu, her knights, and Legion, took charge of caring for the newly arrived demons. They tended to the wounded, provided shelter, and most importantly, tried to keep Pixie distracted, whose sobs had not yet quieted.
Now, in the dim stillness of Alpha's office, only a few remained.
Tuf, Luna, Peanut, Comet, Lyxaria, and Lissaen sat or stood in heavy silence.
Too quiet. Too solemn.
Ceres tried to appear composed, but her tears kept falling, soft and soundless. Her mind couldn't shake the last glimpse of Evadne, bloodied, brave, and shielding her from a sword meant to kill.
The image replayed again and again, carving into her heart.
"What the hell is happening on Earth?" Tuf snapped, unable to bear the silence any longer. He was standing by the window, fists clenched, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. "Why are angels after you, Lissaen?"
The question was heavy, pointed.
"That man," Lissaen answered quietly, her voice smooth like ancient wind. "The one you saw, he was Celestial Mikael. Lord Samael's brother."
Caelum's head turned sharply.
"Mikael? Archangel Michael? Lucifer's twin?" he echoed, incredulous.
He remembered now, how Lucifer once told him there were things Mikael must never know. Especially not that Lucifer had sent Caelum to Solmara.
Lissaen nodded solemnly. "Yes."
"He wants to destroy what's inside the box," she added. "Lord Samael sent me to Earth eons ago with a single task, to retrieve something and bring it safely to Solmara. That box is the only container capable of carrying it through the portal without destroying what was inside."
Caelum reached for the box.
It still sat on the desk, small, obsidian, carved with a heart wrapped in flame. His fingers brushed over the lid, hesitating only for a breath before lifting it open.
Inside was something cold and silver, glinting in the light.
"That's a cryopreservation container," Peanut breathed, stunned as he moved closer.
Lissaen didn't blink.
"Inside is the embryo of your daughter," she said. "The reincarnation of Lilith."
Silence fell again, this time heavier than before.
Ceres stared at the container, eyes wide but hollow. Her voice broke when she finally spoke.
"I… I don't get it," she whispered. "Lucifer already knew? That Lilith would be our daughter? Then why… why did all this still happen? Why did I have to die? Why did you have to die, Zeus? Why were we sent to this world in the first place?" Her voice cracked. "Why all this pain? Why make such a complicated prophecy just for Lilith to be reborn?"
Her hands trembled, but she didn't drop her gaze.
"I cannot answer all your questions, Empress," Lissaen said gently. "But I will tell you what I know, and what I am certain of."
Everyone turned to her. Even Caelum listened closely now.
"This world," she said, "was created by Lord Samael. And like all the other worlds crafted by the Celestials, no other Celestial can interfere with a world not their own, unless the creator grants them access. Not even the Great Creator can override that law."
Ceres blinked, breath caught in her throat.
"It was not Lord Samael who created the prophecy," Lissaen continued. "Because, like you said, why would he wait eons to be with the woman he loves?"
"Then who did?" Caelum asked, his voice low.
Lissaen held his gaze.
"The prophecy… was given to him by another Archangel."
The room chilled.
"On Earth," she went on, "humans believe that the first angels created by the Great Creator were Samael and Mikael, twins. But there is one more. A third archangel."
Her voice dropped almost to a whisper.
"Seraphadneel."
Ceres and Caelum both furrowed their brows at the unfamiliar name.
They had never heard of it, not in scriptures, not in myths, not even whispered in the deepest corners of the dark web.
"I can't remember the full breadth of her story anymore," Lissaen said softly. "But let me tell you what I do remember… what Lord Samael once told me and my brother long ago."
Her gaze drifted upward, toward the dark velvet sky, where stars blinked like memories refusing to die.
"At the dawn of all beginnings," she began, her voice distant yet crystalline, "when the breath of the Great Creator shaped light and will into form, three flames were lit, not two.
The first was Mikael, the Blade of Heaven, forged in righteous fire.
The second was Samael, the Morning Star, radiant in wisdom and pride.
And the third… was Seraphadneel.
She was not lesser. Not behind. She was their equal, a sister born of the same divine breath.
Seraphadneel was the Keeper of Memory. The Shepherd of Souls. The one who guided consciousness between realms. While Mikael embodied Justice, and Samael bore Will, Seraphadneel was Truth.
Her wings shimmered with silver and blue fire, neither warm nor cold, neither holy nor fallen. She could see what others could not, the origin of sorrow, the burden of choice, the ache of eternity.
But when the War of Heaven broke… Seraphadneel did not choose.
Not because she feared.
Not because she didn't care.
But because her nature was to remember both light and shadow. To choose one would be to erase the other. And Truth cannot be divided."
Lissaen closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if mourning a forgotten goddess.
"She was exiled in silence," she continued. "Erased not by force, but by memory. And yet, before she vanished, she gave Lord Samael the prophecy. The one that would one day bring Lilith back into his arms."
A long breath left Lissaen's lips, as though even recalling this truth had cost her something.
"Everything that has happened to you," she said gently, "was not by accident. These were events that needed to happen, for the prophecy to reach its end.
If you had remained on Earth, Mikael would have ensured the prophecy failed. Earth is a realm where angels can touch humans, where divine interference is direct.
But Solmara... this world is Lord Samael's creation. And here, his influence cannot be opposed."
She looked at Ceres with quiet empathy.
"I don't have all the answers, Empress. Even I cannot grasp the reasons of the Celestials. But what I do know, what I will stake my entire soul on, is this, my Lord has done everything he could to bring Lilith back."
Tears welled in Ceres's eyes once more, hot and unrelenting.
But this time, they were not from the grief of loss. They were from the storm of doubt crashing inside her chest.
This embryo. This… tiny miracle preserved in a cryo-chamber, was hers and Caelum's chance at a new life. A chance at love. A future. A child.
And yet, how could she love something that brought so much pain? How could she hold this baby and not feel the weight of her death… Caelum's death… their countless centuries apart?
Would she be able to look at their daughter and see her child?
Or would she see a stranger, a prophecy in a body, not a soul she chose?
And worst of all, her heart whispered a darker thought.
What if none of this was real?
What if the way she felt about Caelum, the love that tore through space and time, wasn't truly hers?
What if it was all just the Devil's whisper, winding through her veins just to fulfill an ancient prophecy?
Caelum saw it.
He saw the doubt flicker in her eyes, saw her hand tremble as she stared at the cryobox.
So he stepped toward her, gently taking her hand.
"Love," he said softly. "Let's go for a walk. Just the two of us."
She let him guide her until they reached the second-highest floor of the Tower, a floor rarely visited, unless one needed to remember.
There, upon the largest wall, hung a massive portrait.
It had once been the Demon Lord's family, somber and incomplete.
But not anymore.
The painting had changed.
Now, Ceres was in it, seated at the center beside Caelum, surrounded by ten radiant children. Each one painted in exquisite detail, captured in a moment of stillness, as if time had bowed just for them.
They stood before the portrait in silence.
Caelum moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, chin resting gently on her shoulder.
"Tell me, love…" he whispered. "Do you think there's something wrong with this picture?"
Ceres blinked.
"If you could change it… what would you change?"
She stared at it. At each of their children. At the warm, regal expression on Caelum's face. At her own painted eyes, calm and complete.
She let the question breathe.
And deep down, even with doubt clawing at her edges, she knew.
Nothing.
Nothing was wrong with the picture.
And there was nothing she would change.
Even if the world had rewritten itself.
Even if their fate had been written by Celestials and sealed in blood.
This was her family.
Hers.
And Caelum's.
"I don't want to change anything," Ceres whispered.
"But I do," Caelum said.
His words caught her off guard. She turned to him, surprised.
"You do?" she asked in disbelief.
Caelum's golden eyes shimmered with quiet hope beneath his mask. He nodded slowly. Still standing behind her, he walked them both closer to the portrait.
He reached for her left hand and gently guided it toward the painting.
"Here," he said, positioning their hands over the empty space between their painted selves. "There's something missing here. Our baby girl. A little version of you… and me."
He turned Ceres to face him, cupping her face in his palms, tender and unwavering.
"I know what you're thinking," Caelum said softly. "You're wondering if that embryo… is really ours. Or if she's a stranger."
He wiped her tears away with his thumbs, brushing them with reverence.
"She is Lilith. That much is true. She's the answer to a prophecy. We can't deny that." He paused, voice low and steady. "But you know what else we can't deny? That she's a part of you… and me."
Caelum's gaze burned into hers.
"So even if she was someone else before, Lilith, Eve, the Virgin Mary, Cleopatra, no matter who she was… right now, in this life, she is our baby."
He took a shaky breath, as if trying to keep himself from falling apart.
"And yes… maybe we can't say she was born from our love, not at the beginning. After all, I took your egg from that foolish little bet. That was selfish of me." He gave a small, guilty smile. "But love… I could've let another woman carry her. I could've kept her hidden from you. I didn't."
"You know why?"
"Because even if she wasn't created out of your love for me then, I wanted her to be born because we would love her together."
He pressed his forehead to hers. The gesture tender. Intimate.
"She would've always found her way to life the moment you loved me back," he whispered. "So now I'm asking you, not because of fate or prophecy or any celestial design… but because it matters to you. Do you want her to be born?"
"I don't want you to say yes just because she needs to be born… I want you to say yes because you want her to be born."
"Because you want our daughter in this world, not Lilith reborn, but our baby girl. No one else."
He looked up at the portrait again.
"Because once she's born," he said, "I want her here. In this painting. Between us."
Caelum cradled her again, their foreheads still pressed together. His voice dropped to a solemn whisper.
"Remember… we don't owe Lucifer anything."
Then he kissed her.
A kiss full of longing, of years lost and dreams nearly shattered. A kiss that asked her not for faith in destiny, but faith in them.
He kissed her forehead… then kissed the tears still in her eyes, sealing them with promise.
And then he looked her straight in the eye.
"If you doubt your love for me," he said gently, "if you believe it isn't real… that's okay."
"I don't doubt mine."
A faint smile touched his lips, soft, sincere, unshakable.
"From the moment I first laid eyes on you… I've always known. You were the one. You are still the one."
"And it's okay if you don't love me right now. You didn't love me before on Earth either."
"But I've always been persistent, haven't I?"
"I'll make you fall in love with me all over again," he whispered, with a fierce kind of joy. "Harder this time. So that next time doubt creeps in, your heart will know the truth before your mind ever questions it."
Ceres nodded.
The doubt hadn't completely disappeared from her mind, but in her heart, she was certain.
"Let's have our baby girl, love," she said softly to Caelum.
Because he was right. No matter who she once was, from this moment and for all the moments that would follow, she would be their daughter. And nothing would ever change that.
Ceres wrapped her arms around Caelum and held him tightly.
She was still hurting, for the pain they had to endure, for the loved ones they had lost. For Evadne, Hades, Casadin, Alpha, Orso, Vivi, Milo… and all the demons who risked their lives to ensure that their child could arrive safely in Solmara.
But Ceres wouldn't let their sacrifices go to waste.
She finally understood. Why Evadne didn't allow her to pass through the portal, even when her own life was in danger. Because the war wasn't only on Earth. The greater war was here, in Solmara. The war for their future. A battle not fought with blades and blood, but with the will to live the life they were once denied on Earth.
Ceres only wished her sister could be here with her now. But she knew, she and Evadne had been given different paths to walk. Both painful. Both necessary.
So when the time came, Caelum and Ceres' embryo, retrieved, preserved, and protected through centuries of chaos and divine intervention, was once again implanted in Luna's womb.
For the third time.
And this time, it wasn't just Tuf watching over her with relentless vigilance.
Everyone was watching over her.
The entire family, their little realm of chaos and love, stood as her guard.
Pixie, who had once cried at the thought of no longer being the "baby," found the courage to speak to her sister's belly each morning and night. She whispered stories, sang lullabies, and even offered her favorite ribbons as gifts. She had come to accept, glowingly, even, that she was no longer the youngest.
Now, she was a big sister.
Little by little, the ache of losing their siblings was softened by the joy of the new life they were waiting for.
By the third month, when Luna's past pregnancies had always taken a turn for the worse, this time, nothing happened.
No signs of complications. No rejection. No pain.
Just quiet progress. A heartbeat. Growth.
Hope.
But none of them relaxed. Not fully. Not yet.
They didn't let their guard down. Not once.
Because they knew better than to take peace for granted. But for the first time in what felt like forever, they had something they never had before.
A real chance.
And Ceres, surrounded by those who remained, by the memory of those they'd lost, and by the tiny spark growing safely inside Luna's womb, began to believe again.
This time, she would not be denied her happy ending.