What Cassian failed to see was the eerie darkness gathering above his limp body, coalescing into a razor-sharp blade, ready to tear his soul apart. Azazeal's eyes were detached, cold. He had already exhausted the last remnants of restraint the last time he had let Kyle and the people with him go alive—and that had been the last time. He had said there would be no next time. No mercy, once his ascension was complete.
And he hadn't forgotten that.
Asking Cassian to extract the souls of those close to him and offer them was nothing more than a passing whim. After all, Azazeal knew that those around Kyle were stubborn—unlike himself, who had nothing to live for. They would rather die than betray the ones they held dear.
So, he truly had no expectation that Cassian would agree to his demand.
