Max stepped through the doorway. The violet smoke stayed behind—but not the feeling.
Lamia rested in his arms. She felt warm… but her breathing was uneven. Weak.
The hallway was in ruins. Broken paintings, burnt furniture, walls covered in soot.
The skeletal knights moved in formation. Some carefully carried Dante's wives. Others guarded the flanks.
Azael walked at the front, Elise in his arms. His pace was fast. Firm. Desperate.
Max followed.
That's when they heard footsteps coming from the other end of the corridor.
Varis and Vimel appeared.
Their clothes were torn, stained with blood. They were breathing heavily.
"Max!"
Varis spoke first. His gaze swept across the scene—the women, the skeletons, Azael.
He stopped, frowning.
"…is everyone alright?"
A brief silence.
His eyes locked onto Azael.
"And who's this guy?"
Max didn't bother lying anymore.
"He's Abby's brother."
Flat.
"He came to help—and to save his wife."
