The Prince of Heaven was forced to his knees before the throne.
Not abruptly.
Slowly.
As if the darkness itself wanted him to feel every second of it.
Every inch.
Every loss.
Chains closed around his wrists.
They did not simply hold him.
They… entered him.
Pulsing.
Alive.
As if something inside them was breathing.
Beating.
A чужое сердце.
Each pulse echoed through his veins.
And with every beat—
his will grew quieter.
Softer.
Further away.
Until it was almost gone.
Almost.
The Prince of Hell descended from the throne.
Step.
Echo.
Step.
But the echo was wrong.
Deeper than sound.
Heavier.
As if the sky itself bent with every movement he made.
As if reality listened.
And obeyed.
He stopped in front of him.
A pause.
Long.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
His fingers touched the Prince of Heaven's chin.
Cold.
But not lifeless.
Alive.
Too alive.
The kind of touch that didn't just exist on the skin—
but beneath it.
Inside it.
He lifted his face.
Forced him to look up.
Their eyes met.
The light was still there.
Faint.
Flickering.
Dying.
But still there.
— The last one… — he said quietly. — The last one who still tries to remember who he is.
A pause.
A smile.
Slow.
Admiring.
— How beautiful.
His finger moved across the Prince of Heaven's cheek.
And where it touched—
the light trembled.
Fought.
For a second—
it resisted.
A small pulse.
A weak splash.
And then—
darkness pressed harder.
And the light went out.
— I will give you a choice… — he whispered.
But now—
his voice was no longer outside.
It was inside.
In the mind.
Between thoughts.
— Disappear…
A pause.
— Or… become me.
The Prince of Heaven's lips trembled.
— I… won't…
The words broke.
Fell apart before they could fully exist.
— I won't become—
Silence.
And then—
laughter.
Soft.
Almost gentle.
Almost kind.
— You already are.
The hand rose.
Slowly.
Inevitably.
The palm touched his forehead.
And the world—
stopped.
No sound.
No movement.
No time.
Only—
entry.
The darkness did not rush in.
It seeped.
Carefully.
Patiently.
Into his thoughts.
Into his memories.
Into every place where something fragile still existed.
It did not break him.
It rewrote him.
— Listen… — the voice whispered.
Not outside.
Inside.
Closer than his own voice.
— You're tired…
Images appeared.
Fragments.
Pain.
Endless fighting.
Endless loss.
— You're alone…
Faces fading.
Voices disappearing.
Hands he could no longer reach.
— You've always been alone.
— No… — he whispered.
And suddenly—
he moved.
His body jerked forward.
Chains tightened.
The darkness pulsed—
stronger.
But he resisted.
His fingers clenched.
His wings trembled violently behind him.
Light flickered again—
stronger this time.
Breaking through.
For a moment—
the darkness recoiled.
A crack.
A fracture.
— Stop… — his voice came out louder now. — Get out of my head!
The world shook.
Not physically.
But something deeper.
The Prince of Hell tilted his head slightly.
Interested.
Not angry.
Never angry.
— There you are…
The pressure increased.
The darkness deepened.
It didn't attack.
It surrounded.
— You don't want this…
— I do! — the Prince of Heaven shouted.
The chains burned.
His body trembled violently.
His wings—
flashed with light.
For a second—
they were pure again.
Bright.
Radiant.
Alive.
The darkness pulled back—
just a little.
Enough to show—
he could still fight.
— I won't become you! — he gasped.
— I won't lose myself!
The silence that followed—
was not empty.
It was… watching.
The Prince of Hell leaned closer.
Almost gently.
— You think this is about losing yourself?
A pause.
Closer.
— No.
A whisper—
right inside his thoughts.
— This is about becoming what you really are.
The darkness changed.
It softened.
Warmed.
Wrapped around him not like chains—
but like something familiar.
Something safe.
— You're tired of fighting…
Images again.
Stronger.
Slower.
Every failure.
Every loss.
Every moment he wasn't enough.
— You couldn't save them…
Faces.
Fading.
Turning away.
— You couldn't stop me…
The battlefield.
The fall.
The moment he lost.
— You are weak.
— NO!
Light exploded from him.
Bright.
Blinding.
For a second—
everything shattered.
The darkness tore.
The chains cracked.
His wings spread—
wide.
Powerful.
Alive.
And he stood—
half-risen—
breathing hard—
fighting—
real.
For one moment—
he almost won.
And then—
the Prince of Hell spoke.
Softly.
Gently.
— Then rest.
Silence.
The light faltered.
Just for a second.
And that was enough.
— You don't have to fight anymore…
The darkness wrapped around him again.
Not forcefully.
Not violently.
But completely.
— I'll carry it for you…
His breathing slowed.
Still uneven.
But weaker.
— I'll take the pain…
His hands unclenched.
— I'll take the burden…
His wings trembled—
and began to lower.
— You can stop now…
A long pause.
Long enough for something inside him…
to break.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
Like something finally giving up.
His body расслабилось.
Slowly.
His shoulders dropped.
His head lowered—
just a little.
The light flickered.
Once.
Twice.
And began to fade.
— That's it… — the voice whispered. — Just let go…
And he did.
The darkness moved deeper.
Further.
Filling everything.
Behind him—
something shifted.
At first—
pressure.
From within.
Deep.
Growing.
Stronger.
As if something inside him—
was trying to emerge.
And then—
rupture.
His wings began to change.
White didn't burn.
Didn't vanish.
It yielded.
To black.
Thick.
Alive.
Feathers fell—
and disappeared before touching the ground.
His breath broke.
Sharp.
Unstable.
And then—
pain.
At his head.
Not sharp.
Pressing.
Growing.
Something rising beneath the skin.
Breaking through.
Slowly.
Inevitably.
Horns.
The darkness shaped them carefully.
Like an artist.
With patience.
With pleasure.
Each second a statement:
you are no longer who you were.
You are no longer light.
The voice continued—
quieter now.
Almost part of him.
— Your will…
Pause.
— …is mine.
— Your thoughts…
Softer.
— …are mine.
— You are not losing yourself…
Almost gone.
— …you are becoming complete.
His eyes trembled.
Light flared—
one last time.
Desperate.
Bright.
Alive.
And then—
it died.
Completely.
Deeply.
Forever.
His body went still.
Then—
straightened.
Slowly.
As if something inside him—
lifted him.
The chains loosened.
They were no longer needed.
He raised his head.
His eyes—
black.
Calm.
Empty.
— My lord… — his voice said.
Clear.
Even.
Not his.
— I am ready.
The demons froze.
For a second.
And then—
eruption.
Voices.
Laughter.
Joy.
Recognition.
The Prince of Hell leaned closer.
— Now… — he said quietly. — you haven't lost yourself.
A pause.
— You've become what you were meant to be.
The chains crumbled into dust.
The new being stood.
His wings spread.
Dark.
Heavy.
Perfect.
But his gaze—
was not his own.
The Prince of Hell placed a hand on his shoulder.
— My shadow…
A pause.
— My reflection.
Even quieter:
— My weapon.
The former Prince of Heaven bowed.
Without hesitation.
Without thought.
— Command me.
And in that moment—
the angels understood.
Not instantly.
Slowly.
Like fear that arrives too late to stop.
They had not lost their prince.
They had gained—
something far worse.
An enemy…
who could no longer be saved.