The sky ripped itself apart.
A golden crack lanced across the violet dome, stretching wider and wider until the light pouring through became blinding. It wasn't the warm light of the sun—but the light of judgment, heavy as iron.
Kael shielded his eyes.
Bella didn't flinch.
Or rather, Lilith didn't.
She watched the sky with narrowed eyes and an expression Kael had never seen on her face before.
Not rage.
Not cruelty.
But dread.
From the tear, a figure descended—slowly, as though gravity bowed beneath him. He wore robes made of threads that shimmered between constellations and shadows. His eyes were golden. Not the soft gold of morning, but the hard gold of coins used to buy kingdoms and kill queens.
Every step he took reshaped the world. Time slowed, trees bowed, and winds wept.
Kael whispered, "Who is that?"
Lilith's voice came from Bella, cold and thin. "Him?"
She turned her head slightly, lips pale.
"He's the only one I ever knelt for."
The figure stepped onto the obsidian plain.
His voice was low. Rich. Dangerous.
"Hello, Lilith."
Bella's lips trembled. "I'm not her," she rasped.
The man smiled.
"Oh, my dear," he said gently. "You are. And you owe me."
Kael stepped in front of Bella, arm outstretched.
"Don't come any closer."
The man didn't even look at him.
"I bound her name," he said calmly. "Long ago. In the Valley of Bone. Beneath the Red Moon. She drank from my chalice, spilled my blood, and made an oath she never fulfilled."
Bella's eyes rolled back. Images flashed behind her lids—binding circles, a silver knife, lips pressing to stone. A contract sealed in her soul.
She whispered, "Azarel."
Kael tensed. The name sounded like it had power.
Azarel nodded. "Ah. So you remember."
The crown on Bella's head cracked—literally. A thin fracture split the black metal from front to back, humming with suppressed magic.
Azarel's gaze locked onto Kael for the first time.
"You don't belong here, boy. This was always between me and my queen."
"She's not your queen," Kael growled. "She's Bella."
Azarel smiled, and Kael's body dropped—hard—to his knees.
Power pressed down on him like the sky itself was collapsing.
Bella screamed.
And for a second—a sliver of a heartbeat—the two voices inside her split.
Lilith: Let him die. He's nothing.
Bella: Don't touch him. He's mine.
Azarel stepped forward.
"Your soul, your body, your very name belongs to me," he said. "And now… it's time to collect."
Bella's crown exploded into shards of black glass.
Her eyes snapped open—one violet, one gold.
Azarel extended his hand.
"Come back to me, Lilith."
She staggered forward.
Fighting.
Bleeding.
Screaming.
Kael crawled toward her, blood in his mouth.
"No," he choked. "You're not hers. You're not his. You're you."
Bella stopped.
Shaking.
Tears welled in her eyes—but they were black.
"I don't know who I am anymore," she whispered.
Azarel's smile widened.
"Then let me remind you."
Azarel—the ancient binder of names—has returned to claim Bella, body and soul. Her identity hangs in the balance. Is she Lilith? Bella? Something entirely new?