Chapter Forty-Two

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Dawn breaks on the horizon, spilling through the petrifying landscape of tremendous Romanian trees. Just over dashboard of the rental car as the boys bolt for the Cave of Sibyl. The entrance to all dimensions. After Kyiah.

- - -

Castiel zaps himself back to the hostel. Immersed in Kyiah's sturring energy, beckoning him, even with her back turned.

"Are you ready, Princess?" He worships. Gaining her magnetic rotation. Her solid black body suit had a mesh neckline, crafted into a v formation by bordering leather strips. A fitting metal ring rests at the end of the center studded fabric. Ghoulish, lace up, knee high, platform boots with a chunky latches dress her high waisted, curved cut, faux leather leggings. Her weaponized silver chains zigzagging the side of her thigh, diagonal to her corded, double serrated, tactical knife. Wearing the twin gun shooter holster swung under her arms, and a black leather, capped jacket around her abrasive form. It's collar popped up around her neck, exposing Ocula's permanent octave bite mark. A fingerless, knuckle spiked glove, clenches into a fist at her side. The other, barring Vlad in an unfurling pessimism, his sheath against her regal back. The pair of winter white streaks in her coal curls draw immediate attention to her expertly winged, thick liquid eyeliner. Her split brow visible beneath thin bangs. She looked supreme. Courageous. Her pastel sage eyes responding for her. The angel captivatingly approaches his valiant assassin. Finding it difficult to speak in the wake of her dynamic presence. "Once you are inside-"

"Straight to the throne. No looking back." Tsia's flavored vocals speak in authority. Further flustering him.

"Ocula will send Velkan to do his dirty work, be prepared-"

"Castiel." The Princess silenced. "Get me there." She implores with a raise of a single framed eyebrow. Her cosmic magick charged in an explicit ferocity. Concerning even her most loyal companion.

"There's one more thing." Cas mentions, graciously approaching his soon to be Queen. She crinkles her rounded nose, watching through a cynical stare. Already reforming the diplomatic heroism of her brash personality. The angel's hand moves into his trench coat, tenderly resurfacing Gabriel's iconic large brim fedora. Shocking her nervous system with in all consuming rush of sentimental attachment. Her posture softens upon its handsome exposure. "He would have wanted you to have it." Her heavenly guardian acclaims. Offering his majesty the well deserved apparel. Tsia touches its warn cloth, her fingertips nostalgically lining the warped rim. It's dark umber tone flushed from the sheer age of the fabric. Bowing to position the legendary cap on her head with the utmost integrity. Raising her elegant chin to spy Castiel's intoxicated gaze. Staring into the face of divinity. Tsia rebuilds her baleful embodiment, rolling out her shoulders depicting her revengeful intentions. Tightening her black polished nails around Vlad's handle. Perfectly resembling her father's genetics in his claim to fame accessory. The brave, fortified, stance only edging Cas's obsessive desire to praise her. Feeling the hypnotic desire to put himself on his knees before her. 

"Alright, Cas." She whispers, egotistically soaking in his blatant celestial subjection. "Take me home." She orders. The angel forcefully moves forward, his eyes never straying from her as he wraps his celestially glowing hand in her's. Swiftly sweeping them away. Landing on the outdoor platform before the entrance to The Underworld. The dawning orange light touching the beautiful stone's acute pyramid-like structure. It's gaping abyss reared an immense draw through her body. Luring her to crawl deep within it's clutches, calling her back home. Unaware she'd ever strayed from Castiel's side.

Tsia cast a long look at her eternal guardian. Roving this virtuous face and creased features. Dissecting herself from her surface emotions, preparing for her impending decent. Once she enters The Underworld, they all have to stop. Her connection to Cas, her undying love for Dean, her affection for Sam. They all go back under lock and key. If she is going to extinguish Ocula and replenish her monarchy, she's got to embrace her path of righteous regnant. And let go of her mortality. She treads back to the paternal angel. Cordially kissing the side of his cheek, her hand against the other. Sensing him fawn beneath her remedial gravity. His arms restfully around her back. Taking in their last moments together. She breaks away without his consent, feeling his soul ache as she turns. Setting her sights back onto the entrance of her home land. Tsia respectfully tips down her fathers fedora. Chucking Vlad into the air with a dexterous motion, catching him so his blade faces away. Her first steps were slowed with years of neglected shame, but by the time she'd stepped into the mouth of the cave. The ground was quaking beneath her.

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