Pray for the Wicked | ATEEZ

42.

My footsteps were like fragile, hollow heartbeats as I bounded down the corridors of the palace in Odeion, running through gloomy hallways of dark stone and dim windows through which occasional gusts of wind would whisper directions in my ears.

I clutched the Lunar Flame a little tighter with each passing second as I realized that I had just lost the only thing that could lead me directly to the son of Lilith, the necklace I had promised him to always wear.

My wings, which were almost dragging after me, made me an easy target in the otherwise midnight surroundings, but it was only a matter of time before I would be seen anyway, before I would be caught.

And so I kept running and stumbling and searching until, at last, one of the endless hallways led to a dead end, a door which seemed much too grand to be insignificant.

I didn't hesitate as I halted to a stop and reached for the handle, slipping inside just as I registered the sounds of foreign voices all of which immediately faltered as the door slammed shut behind me with a deafening boom and all eyes went to me.

I had never seen such darkness, sensed such power, as that which seemed to emanate from the Seven Princes of Hell who, much like in Illenium, were seated in a crescent of thrones made of pure gold at the end of the room. At their feet, the heirs to the Court of Deadly Sins looked at me with a mix of horror and worry in their ebony eyes.

At the very center, seated on a throne of obsidian the size of a small mountain, sat Lilith who, unlike the others, watched me with a look of mild interest and acknowledgment.

Hongjoong, directly beneath her, shot to his feet as he instinctively reached to touch the gilded jewelry around his neck, hands shakily gripping the necklace as it no doubt sounded out the silent song I so desperately missed now that it had been taken from me. I watched him mouth my name, his face a mask of disbelief and yearning.

I didn't know whether the others were staring at me because of my white dress and wings, a stark contrast to their own appearance and world, or if it was because of how my eyes and jewelry were the colour of silver and ash. But I did know that as Hongjoong quickly crossed the room, he was looking only at the angry bruise still marring my face.

I was craving his touch, burning up with longing, but even though I noticed the twitch of his fingers, as if he was contemplating grazing them across the splatter of purple and red and gently caress the broken skin, he withheld himself and turned around the moment he reached me, covering me as best as he could as if he was afraid they would try to hurt me.

"It's okay," I breathed, "I'm okay." My voice sounded foreign as it left my lips and I gently reached out to touch his shoulder. He shivered at the contact, straightening himself despite my attempt at reassuring him, about to protest when Lilith caught him to it.

"You opened the portal," the empress of Hell said, a statement rather than a question. Her dark eyes were devoid of surprise as they flickered to Hongjoong and she added, "Both of you opened the portal." And then they settled on me.

My mouth went dry as my breath caught in my throat. I had to fight the urge to look away as she too rose to her feet and watched me with curiosity rather than the contempt I had expected to be met with, the hatred and prejudice Hongjoong had shown me at our first encounter.

I had never seen such elegance, such beauty.

She could have had Heaven at her feet if she had wished so.

She was tall, radiating power and grace all at once, her lithe body draped in layers of silk dark enough to have been pulled from the night sky itself. Her hair, a fiery ocean of gentle waves, framed her face before falling past her shoulders which, among the darkness and flames, glowed like the stars on the other side of the mosaics along the walls of the throne room.