Staring at the dangling glass orbs, I stuck to the outskirts of thelibrary, hoping to avoid setting them off. I crept in the direction Cato always disappeared to, my footsteps silent, my body tense.
Deadly songs whispered in my ear, and a thrumming warmth coursed through my veins as my powers called to me. They were eager to help. But they had no place here.
My make-it-up-as-I-go plan didn’t involve hurting Cato. Not unless he hid something that warranted it.
When I entered a dark hallway leading to Cato’s door, I took a second to consider the ramifications of what I was about to do.
This was a risk. But Cato was hiding things about my father and admitted to knowing things about my mother. And if I was going to do it, it had to be now. There didn’t appear to be any light beneath his door, which meant he was most likely still sleeping.
By some stroke of luck, Cato’s door handle had no magical seal on it, but it was locked. I pulled out my makeshift set of picks and made quick work of it. Holding my breath, I eased open the door, a flimsy lie poised on my tongue in case Cato popped out and whacked me with a book.
Fortunately, he wasn’t lurking in the shadows of his mini library. Unfortunately, my conscience warred with me as I softly eased his door shut and flipped the lock. I tiptoed toward his study door, thankful the wooden floorboards didn’t creak.
Sucking in my stomach and trying to make myself as small as possible, I wedged into the crack of the door. The hinges squeaked as my hips bumped it open just enough to fit. I cringed and eyed the other doors, waiting for light to erupt beneath the gaps.
Nothing happened.
I continued inside, then dared to twist the knob and slowly close the door. Once shut, I pressed my ear to the cool wood, listening, waiting. Nothing.
Exhaling, I turned and almost smiled at the sight of the paper on his desk.
The paper rustled in my grip as I crossed to the window. Silver light spilled across the black ink, joining me in my desperate need for answers.
The Unmaking Ceremony
After General Ronen confirmed King Lucifer had a rune on his neck, I conducted my own research into the matter. I have determined that the rune in question resulted from undergoing the Unmaking Ceremony.
King Lucifer maintains that the ceremony involved Tsal-mawet and the feather of the intended transfer. He further states that the council was required to sever his wings and sunder his bond with Saraqael to make him the King of Hell—that was the required price. A price General Ronen agreed to when he sought sanctuary in Hell. It is worth noting, however, that with Saraqael existing as a disembodied soul, it is possible this altered King Lucifer’s perception regarding the transfer of title and powers to General Ronen.
I leanedback against the windowsill, feeling panic flutter beneath my sternum.
What King Lucifer and General Ronen were not yet privy to was the suspicious activity I uncovered in King Lucifer’s Unmaking Ceremony. Praetervado has proven most useful in this regard.
The ceremony itself doesn’t require a sacrifice; Tsal-mawet does. In order to unmake or remake, the dagger must take something and reshape it. But only the Weaver can control the sentient dagger’s tendencies. Although this information was not unknown, it appears the council’s hubris ultimately prevailed over better judgment.
Etan convinced the council of his desire to perform the Unmaking Ceremony on one of them. My dream-walk did notilluminate the precise manner in which he convinced them or how King Lucifer came to volunteer, only that both occurred. I must also note that I had never heard of the Unmaking Ceremony before King Lucifer.
Etan rendered King Lucifer unconscious and carved two Sanguis Runes (as seen below) into his neck: one for intention and one to bind the intention to the dagger. Together, they formed a singular rune designed to direct Tsal-mawet’s sentient tendencies.
He then drove the blade into King Lucifer’s chest with considerable force. He neither woke nor whimpered. But blood pooled, and his Seraphim flames drew into the blade. His black hair transitioned to white. His blinding wings dulled, then were severed from his back by an invisible force.
The onlooking council gasped. Etan smiled, digging the dagger deeper. Notably, only a few council members had the presence of mind to question whether the ceremony had already reached its conclusion. Regardless, Etan kept the dagger in Lucifer’s chest, his angelic essence pulsing into the blade while a darker force entered him.
Upon completion, Etan placed a black ring onto Lucifer’s finger and regarded the blade with an expression I can only describe as reverent.
“Council member Lucifer is no longer one of us. His angelic essence is stripped, his bond, his wings. Only Hell can sustain him now. Without it, he’ll perish.”
His words rang with deafening clarity. Only one council member proved brave enough to question the ceremony’s intentions, or the ring slipped onto Lucifer’s finger.
Etan answered, “The blade must unmake to remake, hence the name. And the ring is to help with our other threat.” Then he waved at Lucifer’s bloody body. “You may want to find a Virtue for?—”
A white feather wrapped in a blue flame and tipped with black materialized on King Lucifer’s chest.
Etan clicked his tongue and wrinkled his nose. “It seems theWeaver has allowed him to keep his ability to carve runes. Interesting.”
King Lucifer had been divested of his angelic essence, his bond, and his wings. As per Etan’s words,Lucifer had been tainted by evil to fit Hell’s design. Etan proceeded to divest more from him, ordering his compliance and forbidding him from ever seeing Saraqael again. If he did, Etan threatened to send her to the seventh circle of Hell.
In my conclusion, I believe Etan intended to isolate and demoralize him. His motivations, I suspect, are darker than we initially conceived. I ascertain that Saraqael’s actions are a direct result of this travesty.
