It smelled of perfume, scorched velvet, and old blood.
The room was large, but it felt smaller somehow—dense with sin, thick with incense and smoke that curled like hands around the throat. The floor was black stone, polished until it gleamed like the surface of a dark pool. Red curtains hung from the ceiling, torn and stitched from the flags of conquered sectors and fallen noble houses. Every item in the room spoke of theft. Of mockery.
In the center, sprawled across a high-backed throne of polished obsidian and human bone, sat the new Ash Lord.
He was once angelic—but no longer.
The remnants of his wings were ash-gray and leathery now, folded like broken blades behind him. His eyes were pools of gold streaked with black, ancient light twisted with rot. And his smile—always slightly too wide—glowed faintly as he pulled on a thin, hand-rolled cigarette.
Smoke coiled from his lips like unspoken curses.
He let the smoke drift upward, watching it curl toward the gilded ceiling fan overhead.
"The more they believe," he murmured, "the more I grow."
He chuckled—a low, velvet sound.
"They choose this," he whispered to the shadows. "No one begs them. No one forces their hand. Lies make them feel warm… and hate gives them purpose."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the arms of his throne.
"This city… this sacred pit of filth… it feeds me more with every passing day. With every child sold, every blood match bet upon, every back broken in silence."
A long drag on the cigarette.
"They think I'm just a name. A title. A myth."
He smiled.
"But I am a belief now. And belief is everything."
"Since I have attained a high position in the House of Ash,and I have a lot of connections now,I guess the other Fallens will respect me now in the coming Meeting "
Something came to his mind. "I must not make myself too popular. I heard a there was a Descent that happened somewhere in a Fallen's territory, what's his name again?"
Deep in thought. "Ah yes, Gold, that idiot, he just doesn't know when to retreat, went that far as to leak his location. I guess I have to lie low for a little while. The Morning Star said he has a plan,to fight and win against the heavens, he intends to use the humans and the valkyries.
On the far side of the chamber, two guards stood like statues. Their armor bore no insignias—only streaks of dried blood and etched scripture, written in broken Celestial. They were former priests. Now? Just dogs.
The Ash Lord waved lazily with two fingers.
"Let them in."
The left guard nodded and opened the door.
Three figures entered. Not women, but barely girls—draped in silk that was meant to imply elegance but reeked of degradation. Painted faces. Empty eyes. The stink of perfume barely covered the scent of despair.
They were slaves.
His smile didn't falter. "Lovely."
He gestured toward the lounge. "Wait there. I'll be with you in a moment. I must savor this..."
He turned toward the large, curved window behind his throne. Outside, the smog-choked air of Cinderdeep twisted in swirls of copper and smoke. Beneath the city, the fighting pits were waking. Fires being lit. Chains dragged into place. Crowds gathering.
And beyond that… in the lowest sectors… he could feel something moving.
An old power.
Two, actually.
His smile faded slightly.
"Raphael," he muttered. "The broken wing."
He tapped the end of the cigarette against a carved dish—made from the hollowed skull of one of the old Ash Lord's favored sons.
He remembered the moment he took this throne.
It wasn't with fanfare. It was with betrayal.
A whispered lie.
A poisoned cup.
A broken promise to the one who once ruled with fire.
"I'm grateful," he said quietly, "to the little ghost who killed him."
The boy.
That same cursed child was now marching back into his domain—with an angel beside him.
No, not an angel.
A relic.
A question that should have been erased from Heaven.
The Ash Lord stood now, smoke curling from his shoulders like steam from a forge. He dropped the half-burned cigarette and crushed it beneath a clawed heel.
"Let the fighting pits be lit in black fire tonight," he said to the guards. "Send out the Word."
"The Word, my lord?" one of them asked.
"Yes," the Ash Lord hissed. "Let them know a Celestial is among us. That a boy-slayer walks these halls. Let every noble, every demon, every godless maggot in Cinderdeep place their bets."
He turned to the girls, who flinched as he approached.
"But first... I'll have my little celebration."
His smile widened again.
"Before the blood begins."
Note: The valkyries is another realm that are also on par with the Heavens.