Sariel ran.

  The shadows behind her moved, writhing like living things, their hunger palpable. The cavern pulsed with an eerie rhythm, the walls tightening, the ground shifting beneath her feet. The Maw was alive, and it had decided she did not belong.

  A guttural snarl split the air.

  Something massive lunged.

  Sariel barely twisted out of the way before a clawed limb—dark as ink, dripping with some unholy bile—slammed into the stone where she had been standing. The impact sent jagged cracks racing across the floor.

  Not good.

  She forced her wings open, ignoring the pain in her half-burnt feathers, and pushed off the ground. The air here was thick, heavy, resisting her movement like an unseen force pressing down on her.

  From the depths of the Maw, a voice rumbled.

  “Cherubim.”

  The sound slithered into her ears like oil, and suddenly, her body froze.

  Her wings seized mid-flight, and she crashed hard onto the uneven stone, her limbs refusing to obey her.

  A shape emerged from the darkness.

  It was massive—twice the size of the largest demon she had ever seen. Its body was amorphous, shifting between solid and smoke, its form constantly unraveling and re-forming as though reality itself could not hold it together.

  But its eyes—burning with a sickly, golden light—were fixed solely on her.

  Sariel struggled, her breathing ragged. She couldn’t move.

  The entity stepped forward, dragging a massive, rusted chain behind it. The links screeched against the stone, setting her teeth on edge.

  “You should not exist.”

  Sariel gritted her teeth. “Not my choice.”

  The creature chuckled, a deep, grinding sound that rattled the cavern.

  “No. But it is your burden.”

  The chain in its hand snapped forward.

  Sariel jerked to the side just in time to avoid the blow. The links struck the ground where she had been lying, sending shards of blackened rock flying in every direction.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  She didn’t wait to see what came next.

  Move.

  Her body fought against the unseen weight pressing down on her, but she forced herself upright. Her mark burned, the heat searing into her wrist like a molten brand.

  The entity’s head tilted.

  “You are unfinished.”

  Sariel’s breath hitched.

  It knew.

  She swallowed down the rising panic. “Who are you?”

  The being regarded her for a long moment, then spoke in a voice that shook the very marrow of her bones.

  “I am the Keeper of the Maw. And you, little cherub, are an anomaly.”

  The shadows around them rippled, drawn toward the Keeper like a tide.

  Sariel tensed.

  She had no weapon. No allies. No clear way out.

  But the one thing she did have—

  Was time.

  She just needed to buy herself enough of it to figure out why she was still alive.

  The Game of Fate

  “An anomaly,” Sariel repeated, forcing her voice to remain steady. “You mean I don’t belong?”

  The Keeper’s golden eyes flashed.

  “You belong to no one.”

  The weight of those words sent a chill through her.

  No one.

  Not Heaven. Not Hell.

  Not even herself.

  The chain moved again, faster than before. Sariel dove to the side, barely avoiding the arc of destruction it left in its wake.

  She was running out of room to maneuver.

  Sariel clenched her jaw. “You said I don’t belong. Then why am I here?”

  The Keeper stopped. The shadows around it shifted, coiling inward like a thousand unseen eyes narrowing.

  “A question for the one who left the door open.”

  Sariel’s pulse spiked.

  Someone—something—had interfered in her fate.

  Had stopped Lucifer’s claim before it could be fully sealed.

  Had sent her here.

  But why?

  And who?

  The Maw began to shudder, as if something was changing.

  The Keeper’s gaze snapped upward, a flicker of something almost like alarm passing through its form.

  Then it laughed.

  A deep, guttural sound that sent a fresh wave of unease down Sariel’s spine.

  “Ah. So that is your fate.”

  Sariel braced herself. “What do you mean?”

  The Keeper smiled—a slow, knowing expression that made her skin crawl.

  “You will understand soon enough.”

  And then—

  The shadows swallowed her whole.

  The Devil’s Move

  Sariel’s lungs burned.

  The weightless abyss pulled at her, twisting, dragging her deeper into the unknown. Her mind screamed, her body convulsed—

  Until she stopped.

  The void shattered.

  Cold, jagged stone pressed against her back, the scent of sulfur and ash thick in the air. A low hum vibrated beneath her skin, something ancient stirring just beneath the surface of reality.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes.

  And found herself staring at Lucifer.

  He was sitting on an obsidian throne, one leg lazily draped over the other, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. His golden-red eyes locked onto hers, burning with an intensity that sent every nerve in her body on edge.

  “Well,” he mused, his voice smooth as silk, dangerous as a knife. “That was quite the detour.”

  Sariel’s chest tightened.

  Lucifer’s throne room was vast, stretching outward into the endless void of Pandemonium. Jagged spires of blackened rock jutted from the ground, pulsing with a faint, hellish glow.

  And she was alone with him.

  Lucifer leaned forward, resting his chin against his knuckles. “Tell me, little cherub…”

  His smile was wicked.

  “Did you enjoy your little game with the Maw?”

  Sariel’s breathing was uneven, her mind racing.

  How much did he know?

  Lucifer’s eyes flickered toward her wrist.

  The mark still burned, unfinished.

  His smirk widened.

  “Now… let’s fix that, shall we?”