Neru knew.
He knew that I was asking questions.
He knew above all that I would never look at him the same way again.
Ryan Bostagus's disappearance was starting to make noise in the city.
Rumors circulated, posters appeared, and very quickly, the searches intensified. The police combed through his habits, his most frequent contacts.
My number was on the list.
They checked the recent calls.
They listened to our conversations.
They heard Ryan apologize.
Apologize for having provoked Neru too much.
That detail caught their attention.
They came to see me once. Only once.
But that visit left me drained.
I couldn't stay calm. Every question echoed too loudly, every silence seemed suspicious.
On the contrary, Neru was disturbingly calm.
He answered precisely.
Without hesitating.
Without trembling.
As if he had already lived through this.
As if he knew exactly how far to go… and where to stop.
When the police left, leaving behind a heavy silence, Neru approached me. He gently placed a hand on my shoulder.
— Ravena… you did absolutely nothing.
His voice was low, steady.
— If there's any responsibility to bear, it will be mine. I don't want you to feel guilty.
I didn't respond.
He sighed, then raised his eyes, as if searching for the courage to continue.
— There's something I have to tell you…
He hesitated.
— But promise me you won't get angry.
I frowned, already on my guard.
— You want to tell me that, in the situation we're in… there's worse than that?
He breathed in deeply.
— I killed my own mother.
The world tilted.
I felt my legs give way, the air brutally leaving my lungs. Everything went black.
When I came to, I was lying on my bed.
My head hurt.
Neru was sitting on a chair beside me, motionless.
— I'm sorry… he murmured.
Then, after a silence:
— In reality… it was the spirit who asked me to do it.
I said nothing.
I just listened.
He explained then. In a calm voice. Too calm.
That spirit had a name.
Lucifer.
He had spoken to him.
He had promised him meaning, a reason to exist.
But he demanded proof.
He needed him.
And another person to accompany him.
Me.
Because I had healed him once.
Because I had treated his spiritual infection when no one else would have even tried.
Because, according to him, I was made to be his right hand.
He admitted to having lied to me. A little.
Just enough to get close.
— But my feelings for you are real, Ravena… he said without looking at me.
Then he added the ultimate truth.
Ryan was dead.
His body had been emptied of its internal organs.
An offering.
A sign.
The signal that the moment had finally arrived.
I stayed frozen.
No anger.
No tears.
Just a thought that crossed my mind, cold and bitter:
If I had known that day…
I would have let him die.
I never would have given that remedy to his mother.
But it was too late.
I wanted to pull away.
My body recoiled almost instinctively.
Neru stood up abruptly and begged me.
He told me that he loved me.
That he needed me.
That without me, none of it made sense.
And I understood then one essential thing:
It wasn't a request.
It was the beginning of a gear turning.
I told him that, if all this was true, then he had to cut ties with Lucifer.
He stayed silent for a long moment.
A silence too heavy to be innocent.
Then, against all expectations, he slowly nodded.
— Yes… I would like to cut ties, he said finally.
His voice was almost weary.
— But now… it's too late.
He didn't try to justify himself.
He denied nothing.
He just begged me.
He promised that nothing would happen to me.
That he would protect me.
That together, we could get through all this.
And despite everything my instinct screamed at me, I ended up following him.
_____
Months passed.
Then years.
I changed.
Not abruptly.
Not spectacularly.
But deeply.
My power grew to a level I never thought possible.
I caught up to gods.
I even surpassed some of them.
Lucifer's flow coursed through me, constant, burning, irreversible.
Neru was happy.
He saw in me the culmination of everything he had sacrificed.
Me?
I couldn't say.
I didn't even know where I was anymore.
Or who I had become.
I had always been a tool.
For my uncle.
For the world.
For those who needed me.
This time too, nothing had changed.
In this new life, I no longer healed.
I no longer saved.
I killed.
Again.
And again.
At first, every death weighed on me.
Then they became numerous.
Then they ceased to have faces.
Violence became a habit.
Death, a routine.
And what should have broken me… became banal.
_____
She slowly emerged from her reverie and raised her eyes to Erasa.
Her gaze was empty, but calm.
Like a bottomless lake.
— I have nothing left, she said.
Her voice didn't tremble.
— In reality… I think I never had anything.
She paused.
— I don't know the purpose of my existence.
— All this… it's empty.
Her fingers tightened slightly on the ground.
— When I thought I had finally found meaning…
— it was only illusions.
Erasa said nothing.
Her black mask, smooth and expressionless, remained fixed on Ravena.
At her side, Bakuzan had lowered his head.
He didn't need words to understand.
Ravena was a tragic existence.
A woman unable to say if her life still belonged to her… or if it had always been only the reflection of others' gazes.
Even when she had wanted to turn the page, the world had forced her to reread the same line.
A sharp snap broke the silence.
Erasa snapped her fingers.
Ravena's severed limbs regenerated instantly, the flesh reforming as if she had never been injured.
Ravena sat up abruptly.
Her eyebrows furrowed.
Her teeth gritted.
— You dare… heal me?
Her voice vibrated with anger.
— When I desire death?
She fixed Erasa, her gaze burning.
— Why?!
— Why does no one accept my will, not even once?!
— Why do you all want me to exist by your rules?!
Her voice almost broke.
— What do you want from me, huh?!
— Tell me!!
— Shut up.
Bakuzan's voice cut through the air like a blade.
Ravena froze.
Then she slowly turned her human eyes toward him.
Bakuzan raised his head.
— You get one more chance, he said in a grave voice.
— In this cruel world, you can never have too many chances.
He took a step closer.
— So stop being a coward.
— Try, this time, to exist by your own will.
His golden eyes gleamed in the shadow.
— And if you fail…
He paused.
— Then I will make you my thing.
Erasa simply lowered her head.
Ravena clenched her fists.
— By what right do you talk to me like that?
Her voice trembled, but her gaze remained straight.
— Who are you, exactly?
Bakuzan fully raised his eyes to her.
— I am Bakuzan Satsujin Otoko.
A heavy silence fell.
— But in the myths…
His voice grew lower.
— I'm mostly known as Black Grief.
He added, like a sentence:
— Or Ebon Woe.
Ravena's eyes widened.
— Ebon Woe…?
Her breath caught.
— The real…?
She stared at him, incredulous.
— It's really you…?