The air still shimmered with remnants of power, the echoes of battle fading into the mist. Lilith stood motionless, her breath shallow, eyes locked on Azazel's shifting form. The silence between them was thick—charged with questions, confusion, and something else she couldn't name.
She finally spoke, voice low but sharp.
"What was that war? And what the hell was that dragon? Was all of it your creation?"
Azazel let out a brief, amused laugh. It wasn't mocking—just ancient, like someone who had seen too much to take anything too seriously.
"That war," he said, "happened long ago. I simply… recreated it. A test, nothing more. The monster chasing you, the chaos—it was all intentional. I needed to see if you were truly ready."
Lilith's eyes narrowed. "Ready for what?"
Azazel didn't answer. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something beyond the veil of reality.
"And the dragon?" she pressed. "It looked like you."
Azazel's form pulsed once, subtly.
"He's an ancient demon," he said. "Like me. Think of him as… my companion."
With a gesture, the shadows parted again, and the dragon reappeared—but this time, it was no towering beast. It stood before Lilith like a wolf-sized creature, sleek and quiet, its eyes still burning with that same eerie intelligence.
It stepped forward, slowly, and sat.
Lilith stared.
The creature was no longer terrifying.
It was watching her.
Waiting.
Azazel's voice echoed softly.
"He responds to power. Yours. He knows what you carry."
Lilith didn't move.
She wasn't sure if she should feel honored—or afraid.
"His name is Tiamat," Azazel said, gesturing toward the small dragon now curled beside Lilith like a loyal hound. "Cute, isn't he? You can pet him if you want."
Lilith raised an eyebrow. "How can I pet something that isn't even physical? Are you kidding me?"
Azazel chuckled, the sound echoing like distant thunder. "You take things too seriously, my dear."
Her expression hardened. The mist around them swirled, thick and heavy, but her voice cut through it with clarity.
"Why now?" she asked. "Why call me here and show me my identity only now? There must be a reason."
Azazel's form shifted slightly, the shadows around him rippling like water disturbed by thought.
"Follow me," he said simply, turning and walking into the dark.
The mist parted before him, revealing a path that hadn't been there moments ago—narrow, winding, and pulsing with faint light.
Lilith hesitated.
Then she followed.
They walked in silence.
The mist parted slowly, revealing a bridge suspended in nothingness. It wasn't made of stone or wood—it shimmered like woven starlight, threads of silver and violet pulsing beneath their feet. Each step echoed softly, not through air, but through existence itself.
Below them: nothing.
Not darkness. Not void.
Just absence.
A place where even gravity dared not reach.
The sky above was unlike any Lilith had ever seen. It stretched endlessly, painted in hues no language could name—crimson spirals, golden fractures, rivers of light flowing between constellations that moved as if alive. Celestial bodies drifted slowly, singing in silence, their glow bathing the bridge in a soft, sacred luminescence.
Around them, the air shimmered with unseen patterns, like forgotten runes dancing just beyond perception. The space felt alive, ancient, and aware.
Lilith slowed her pace, eyes wide, heart thundering.
"This place…" she whispered.
Azazel didn't look back. "It's older than angels. Older than gods. It was built for truths that words cannot hold."
The bridge curved gently ahead, vanishing into the horizon where sky met eternity.
And still—beneath them—nothing.
Yet somehow, it felt more solid than any ground she had ever walked.