The next day, Azaelia found herself fluttering her wings in place at the edge of the clan she was once a part of but swore she would never return to again.
A cold breeze drifted through the silverwood trees surrounding the mountain pass, carrying with it the faint scent of mournblossoms and dusk pine. The fragrance was lean in a way that barely existed within the Nether Realm.
Compared to the stench of blood and death all around, the Nocthyrion clan carried a scent of sweet floral scents, tangled with the crisp sharpness of ancient wood and cold mountain air.
The smell alone was enough to irritate her.
Even after eighty-plus years away from this place, she still remembered it perfectly.
Her crimson eyes lifted toward the sprawling settlement built into the mountains ahead, and immediately, old memories she would rather leave buried stirred at the back of her mind.
The Nocthyrion clan grounds looked exactly as they always had, untouched by time and unchanged by loss.
The massive mountain settlement stretched across the cliffs like a kingdom built for fallen divinity. Towering blackstone structures rose between enormous silverwood trees whose luminous branches shimmered softly beneath the dark skies of the Nether. Pale streams of glowing water cascaded down the mountainside, cutting through the settlement in winding paths before disappearing into the mist-covered ravines below.
Everything here was elegant.
The architecture carried the same prideful beauty as the bloodline that built it. Cathedral-like towers with curved obsidian rooftops overlooked vast courtyards lined with silver flame lanterns that never dimmed. Bridges formed from condensed light connected the upper districts, high above the open air, allowing winged clan members to travel freely between structures without ever touching the lower pathways.
Azaelia clicked her tongue softly.
"...how annoying."
The black-blue flames beneath her feet flickered once before fading as she lowered herself onto the smooth obsidian pathway leading toward the settlement gates. Her boots touched the polished stone with a quiet echo that carried farther than it should have.
Immediately, she felt it.
The stares.
Azaelia shoved both hands into the pockets of her coat and started walking in the direction of the central area of the clan. She could have gotten there way faster, but since she hasn't been there in so long, she decided that taking a stroll wouldn't be so bad. Especially, for the reason she came back.
The further she moved into the mountain pass, the more familiar everything became. The carved statues line the roads, depicting ancient False Seraphs with wings spread proudly behind them. Glowing runes pulsed faintly beneath the statues' feet, illuminating the pathways in pale silver light.
A few figures moving through the lower courtyards slowed as she passed. Their conversations quieted almost immediately once recognition spread.
"...Isn't that False Priestess Azaelia?"
"She actually came back?"
"I thought the elders exiled her."
Azaelia ignored them and kept walking, though her jaw tightened slightly beneath the calm expression she forced onto herself.
None of them knew the real reason she returned.
Well...not yet at least.
Because if the Nocthyrions learned the truth about Alex.
Then this mountain settlement would not stay quiet for very long.
The thought lingered unpleasantly in her mind as she continued deeper into the settlement.
The outer district slowly gave way to the inner portions of the clan grounds, where the architecture grew grander with every passing structure. Massive archways carved directly into the mountainside towered overhead, etched with glowing scriptures written in the ancient language of the False Seraphs. The symbols softly like living things beneath the stone.
Azaelia remembered learning those scriptures as a child.
Back when the elders still believed she would become one of the clan's future pillars.
"Tch."
The sound escaped her before she could stop it.
What a joke that turned out to be.
A pair of younger clan members crossed paths ahead of her, carrying silver spears along their backs, likely returning from patrol duty somewhere along the mountain borders. The moment they noticed her, both demons visibly stiffened.
One of them, a younger male with short silver hair, frowned immediately.
"Wait..."
His companion followed his gaze before her pale eyes widened slightly in realization.
"No way..."
Azaelia kept walking.
The younger male stepped aside instinctively to clear the pathway for her, but his expression remained conflicted as she passed.
It wasn't out of fear. Either curiosity or maybe even resentment.
It was strange seeing younger generations who only knew her through rumors and stories whispered by older clan members.
To them, Azaelia Nocthyrion wasn't a person.
She was a stain on the clan's history.
The fallen prodigy who abandoned her responsibilities and disappeared into Lust's territory after Marie, Alex's mother, vanished.
The irony almost made her laugh. If the elders had simply left her alone back then, she probably never would have left in the first place.
But Nocthyrions loved control too much for that.
Azaelia's crimson eyes drifted upward toward the bridges suspended high overhead. Several winged figures moved gracefully across them, silver-lined robes fluttering softly in the cold mountain breeze.
A slow breath escaped through her nose as she approached the central district of the settlement. Here, the atmosphere shifted noticeably. Fewer clan members walked openly through the streets, and those who did carried themselves with calmer, more refined movements. The pressure in the air felt heavier too, subtle but impossible to ignore.
This was where the higher bloodlines resided.
The direct descendants.
The families that are closest to the elders themselves.
Massive silverwood trees grew between the structures here, their luminous branches stretching across the sky like pale rivers of light. Some of the roots had even merged with portions of the buildings themselves, intertwining nature with architecture in a way that made the place feel ancient beyond comprehension.
At the very center of it all stood the Hall of Reverence.
Azaelia slowed slightly the moment it entered view.
The structure towered above everything surrounding it, built directly into the mountain itself. Black crystal pillars lined the outer walls while enormous statues of six-winged False Seraphs stood guard at the entrance with blades lowered before them. Silver flames burned endlessly within massive lanterns suspended from chains overhead, casting pale reflections across the polished ground below.
The elders were inside.
Just realizing that caused irritation to crawl beneath Azaelia's skin again.
"...Damn it."
Her voice came quieter this time.
For a brief moment, she considered turning around and leaving altogether.
It would certainly make her life easier.
She could go back to Alex. Wait for her to wake up and pretend none of this involved the Nocthyrions at all.
But then she remembered the pressure Alex released into the Nether Realm.
The declaration she made.
The impossible power she wielded against Baelgor.
And, most importantly... the Asura form.
Azaelia's eyes narrowed.
No.
This was already far beyond something she could handle alone.
Which meant whether she liked it or not. The clan needed to know.
Unfortunately, that also meant the people she had spent eighty years avoiding.
A soft clink of armor pulled her from her thoughts.
Two False Seraphs stood near the entrance of the hall of Reverence, both wearing dark ceremonial armor lined with silver inscriptions while folded wings rested neatly against their backs.
One of them noticed her immediately.
And judging from the way his expression tightened.
He recognized her too.
Azaelia stopped several feet from the entrance and exhaled slowly through her nose.
"Here we go."