The morning after the coliseum felt unreal.
Pain lingered in my limbs, but it wasn't the same kind of pain from before. It was solid now—earned. My muscles ached like they'd been molded by something older than flame, and my core felt steadier. The fire inside me no longer lashed out randomly. It curled beneath my skin like a living current—steady, waiting, listening.
I stepped outside to catch the breeze.
The sky was clouded, dim, but something in the air felt too still, like the earth itself was holding its breath. Ash drifted in the morning light, catching in my hair. It wasn't from any fire I could see.
Cerberus was already there, crouched on a crumbling ledge with his arms folded. He wasn't in his monstrous form anymore. He looked human—but only barely. Towering, broad, and sculpted like a colossus carved from stone and stubbornness. Shirtless, as always. Covered in faint scars and tattoos written in languages I couldn't read. If intimidation could be a person, it would be this version of him.
He didn't glance at me, but he grunted. "You're up."
"Barely," I said, groaning as I sat beside him. "Felt like I died three times yesterday."
He smirked. "That's the price of evolution, kid."
We stared out at the broken horizon together. For a while, the silence was almost peaceful.
Then I asked, quietly, "Did you know him well?"
He didn't need to ask who I meant.
Cerberus leaned forward, resting his massive forearms on his knees. His voice, when he spoke, was slower. Weighed down.
"I wasn't just his hound. I was his shadow. I followed Lucifer through heaven's gates, through war, through exile. I watched him shine brighter than anything I'd ever seen. He wasn't what they say. Not some monster. Not at first."
I frowned. "He was… good?"
"No," Cerberus said, eyes distant. "He was brilliant. There's a difference."
He sat back. "He was the Morning Star. The first flame. The prince of Heaven. Even Michael used to look to him in awe. He didn't just lead with strength—he led with vision. But Heaven's light is harsh when it judges, and when you start asking questions... well, the light turns on you."
I let that settle in my chest.
"And Michael?" I asked, my voice quiet.
Cerberus's jaw tightened. "He feared what Lucifer saw. Feared the flame that didn't obey the rules. When Lucifer rose against the Council of Thrones, Michael stood with them. They clashed. Brother against brother. Flame against flame."
He turned to me now. "Your father won that battle. But he didn't win the war."
I looked down at my hands, where golden sparks flickered faintly. "He was betrayed?"
Cerberus nodded. "By those he once protected. And when he fell, they rewrote the truth."
The air felt heavier. Like I was finally hearing echoes that had been whispering through my blood for years.
"And Aria?" I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "She was sent to kill me?"
Cerberus didn't blink. "Yes."
That hurt in a strange, almost abstract way. Like hearing a nightmare had been real all along.
"She disobeyed," he continued. "She couldn't go through with it. She watched over you instead. Hid you. And now the clock's almost up."
I stared ahead. "She'll be erased if she fails."
Cerberus nodded slowly.
"And Michael's the one who gave the order."
"That's the kind of God politics breeds," Cerberus said bitterly. "Holy wars dressed in purpose."
The flame inside me stirred again—not violently, but with sharp clarity.
"So why are you telling me all this now?" I asked.
Cerberus stood. His silhouette cut against the gray sky like a wall.
"Because it's time you understood. The fire inside you isn't just a weapon. It's a history. A rebellion. A truth that they tried to erase."
I stood too, feeling the embers rise in my chest. The weight of legacy no longer frightened me. It steadied me.
"If Michael comes—"
"He will," Cerberus said, cutting me off. "And when he does, you need to remember: your father's power didn't lie in how bright he burned."
I frowned. "Then what?"
Cerberus looked down at me, and for once, his voice was gentle.
"It was in how he lit the fire in others."