Azrael sensed the presence of another figure lurking in the shadows behind a pillar in the room.

"Michael, is that you?" she asked, offering a slight smile.

Stepping forward, Michael, a striking seraph with golden hair and towering over six feet tall, revealed himself. His beauty was so dazzling that it would temporarily blind humans upon first sight, but Azrael was immune to this effect. However, he did not return her smile, and there was a good reason for it. A scar along his otherwise unblemished skin, just like Vera.

Azrael heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind her and swiftly spun around just in time to intercept an attacking werewolf midair, causing both of them to crash onto the rocky floor. The werewolf swiped its heavy paw across her face, but Azrael managed to block most of the attack, albeit receiving three deep gashes on the underside of her arm. With a powerful push, she flung the werewolf aside and quickly got back on her feet.

"What's going on?" she exclaimed aloud. Although Michael was still present in the room, she could sense his presence, he remained silent and unmoving in the shadows.

Three more werewolves stood at the entrance of the room, blocking her only way out. The space was too narrow for both of them to attack efficiently without hindering each other, so the werewolves entered one by one.

With her white shirt stained red with blood, Azrael patiently waited.

The next werewolf was much larger, and as it lunged towards her, Azrael rose to meet the challenge. Utilizing her extraordinary agility, she allowed its momentum to push her back, swiftly manoeuvring their positions. Seizing its tail, she forcefully slammed the werewolf against a nearby marble pillar. The impact shook the room, cracking the pillar and rendering the werewolf incapacitated.

Another werewolf emerged from the shadows, taking the fallen one's place.

They were not real.

Azrael shook her head, resisting the compulsion that tried to alter her perception. Only one being, or rather, not a being at all, had the power to manipulate perception at will.

"Venus," she said, her voice steady and resolute.

The three remaining werewolves transformed into ethereal wisps of light, merging to form the figure of Venus.

Describing Venus as incredibly beautiful would be an understatement. Even among Seraphim, time had no visible effect on her, and her radiance made the shadows around Michael shrink back in awe. She exuded an air of divine royalty, her confident and almost sinister beauty purposefully crafted to captivate minds.

Azrael blinked, ensuring that this wasn't another mind trick, as Venus smiled.

"Azrael. I was surprised when Vera told me you were here. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

Azrael inclined her head toward the shadows. "Is this how you welcome all your friends?"

Venus pouted. "Friends don't try to kill each other."

Azrael began to protest, but Venus interrupted with a mischievous smile. "Not me. But Vera, Michael here too, and so many others."

Taking a few steps closer to Azrael, Venus caused Azrael to instinctively take a few steps back.

"You came here to find me, didn't you? Then why do you run from me?"

Azrael's eyes glowed with a hint of defiance. "The last time I came to you, you kept me imprisoned for years. Remember that?"

Venus looked down, and even the radiance surrounding her seemed to fade. The two blades that Michael carried floated through the air and into Venus's hands.

"I had no choice, Azrael. I had orders from Father, and I had to follow them."

"Or what? Or you lose your seat on the highest council in the world?"

"You don't understand."

"Of course, I don't," Azrael replied firmly. "You have everything you could desire-wealth, power. Yet, you still crave more and are willing to do anything to obtain it. What is it that you truly want?"

Venus's voice grew softer as she spoke, and the light around her dimmed once again. "The truth is, despite all I have accomplished, in just a few generations after I die, my name will be forgotten. Even the greatest among us cannot compete with the passage of time and the inevitability of death."

Venus's words hung in the air, filled with a touch of melancholy. "It is only a matter of time."

The statement echoed in Azrael's mind, its significance just beyond her reach.

"It is only a matter of time."

She strained to grasp its meaning, but it remained elusive, like a fleeting memory. Venus held one of the daggers, its runic markings glowing silver.

"These were our first weapons. We swore to protect each other with these. Until you decided to break that promise."

"I paid my debt to the universe for breaking that promise, Venus. And I continue to pay it every day of my existence."

Venus muttered, her voice tinged with resignation, as she absentmindedly stroked Azrael's dark hair.

"We all pay our debts to the universe, eventually."

Azrael looked down at her forearm, which alternated between injured and healed states. Her mind was still clouded by Venus's compulsion, a clear indication that the seraph still harboured mistrust toward her.

"There has been talk of you in the other temples," Venus remarked, her gaze fixed on the daggers. "They call you the anarchist goddess. I suppose that would be a fitting name."

"I have kept to myself ever since I left the Pantheon," Azrael replied. "Since when has that become a crime?"

Venus tilted her head. "You openly kill humans," she said softly. "You act without the sanction of a Sentinel. Azrael, you play a dangerously risky game."

"Russia is your stronghold," Azrael stated. "You must have known I was here as soon as I set foot in Kespen."

"Ah, yes," Venus sighed. "Carrying out your self-appointed duty to eradicate the Scourge. I'll have you know that Victor Arlington was a valued customer of mine."

Azrael's thoughts wandered back to the woman she had been with at the club that day. The mischievous grin on Venus' face proved her thoughts right.

"I know your tastes, Azrael," she said. "Of course, I had to send one of my own. She is here too if you want-"

"That is one of the reasons why I'm here," Azrael said. "I assume you supplied him with the bloodlings he associated with."

"Yes, I did," Venus replied, narrowing her eyes. "And you killed some of them."

"They were infected," Azrael insisted.

"I highly doubt that," Venus retorted. "I have all my staff checked before they work for me, and regularly during their employment. Besides, the Scourge remains dormant for years before turning individuals into revenants. There's no way they would have been infected."

"I saw it with my own eyes."

In the distance, Azrael could hear faint sounds of revelry from Venus's party-murmuring voices beyond the screened trees, the clinking of wine glasses, an occasional predatory laugh that rose and faded into the background buzz, and a woman's tipsy, piercing giggle.

"What was your true reason for coming here tonight?" Venus asked, redirecting the conversation.

"The woman I'm with," Azrael replied.

"Yes, her," Venus remarked with a sly smile. "She's quite attractive."

"Someone is sending revenants after her," Azrael stated, dismissing Venus's remark.

"I have no interest in the life of a random mortal," Venus replied dismissively. "None whatsoever."

"She might hold the key to ending this plague once and for all," Azrael pressed on. "And she's not entirely human. I don't know what she is."

Venus cocked her head in curiosity. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"Delve into her mind and see," Azrael implored. "See if you can catch a glimpse of her true nature. Anaki sensed something in her aura, but it was only a fleeting glimpse."

And then, a piercing scream shattered the air.