Maeril's gaze lingered on Seraphine, cautious yet oddly admiring. "You must be a powerful demon," she said at last. "I can tell from the way you move... so certain, so sure. But this key…" Her fingers brushed the necklace at her throat. "It was given to me to keep safe. Surely you understand I can't just hand it over."

Seraphine folded her arms, her tone calm but sharp. "Yes, I understand. But judging by the crowd of souls outside begging for your food, I doubt you'd want to be out of commission for long after I'm done with you. That'd be a waste of time for both of us. You and I both know you're not strong enough to offer much of a challenge, Maeril. So let's save the trouble. The next time I ask, it won't be without consequence."

Maeril exhaled, eyes narrowing slightly. Then, with reluctant grace, she unclasped the necklace and held it out. "Fine. Take it. But once you're done, please, give it to someone else. I don't want that burden again. Holding this key only brings visitors like you… who ruin my business."

Seraphine snatched the key from her hand. "Your concerns aren't mine. You can toil for eternity for all I care. You're a beast... act like one and stop whining."

She clicked her tongue, turned sharply on her heel, and strode out. Maeril watched her go, a faint smile curling her lips, masking the quiet anger simmering beneath.

Seraphine stepped out, the heavy air of Drosvale clinging to her as she made her way toward the exit marked by the signpost. The soul key gleamed faintly in her hand as she quickened her pace. Now that she had what she came for, all that remained was to face the Ezraphor and free Leila's soul. She almost smirked at the thought. She'd make sure to do it tomorrow. Catching him off guard would prevent any of his little tricks.

So much trouble for one sloppy mistake Leila made. If they had assigned her to retrieve the Ezra Fruit from the start, things wouldn't have dragged this far. She wouldn't have had to forfeit her former contract to clean up Leila's mess.

The Ezraphor would be dead for the second time, and she'd be celebrating a generous reward by now, maybe even an early promotion. But no, they gave the task to the incompetent Leila. Seraphine clicked her tongue, shaking her head in disgust.

She reached the signpost, ready to cross back through, when a ripple tore through the air before her. In an instant, a Sentinel materialized, its form cloaked in shifting light, eyes burning like twin embers.

Seraphine's brow furrowed. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" she demanded, irritation sharpening her tone. "Move aside before..."

The Sentinel's voice cut through hers, measured, resonant, and heavy with decree. "You carry a soul key that is not yours to bear. It belongs to a limbomite, torn from its appointed domain. Such trespass is weighty… and must be set right."

"What?" Seraphine hissed. "What nonsense are you... This is the soul key of Elena Makarov!"

The Sentinel tilted its head, unmoved. "You were deceived, daughter of Velzira. The Key you hold is not that of mortal kind, but of the condemned. Your ignorance does not absolve your trespass."

Seraphine's pulse quickened. Whatever this was, its intent was unmistakable. Judgment.

"You dare!" she barked, dark energy flaring around her. "I am Seraphine Velzira, Grade Five demon of Royal Velzira! I serve directly under Royal Velzira herself! Who are you to hinder me, to threaten me?"

The Sentinel's eyes burned brighter, its tone deepening like distant thunder. "I am not one to threaten… only the hand that carries out what must be done."

Before she could react, it surged forward, faster than sight. Its palm closed around her throat, lifting her effortlessly from the ground. Her body suspended midair, gripped by a hand of blinding force. She clawed at its arm, gasping for air as her demonic aura thrashed wildly around her.

"Be you demon or beast," the Sentinel intoned, its voice echoing like judgment through the void, "the laws are the laws. If you cannot bear their consequence, then do not break them."

Its grip tightened. The glow from its eyes deepened to molten gold. "When next you are born as a worthless soul," it intoned, voice almost sorrowful, "ensure you obey the laws you will be given. Should you stray, I will be there to deliver the consequence, as I do now."

Seraphine's vision blurred, disbelief and rage warring within her. How could this be happening? How had she carried a limbomite's key? Why would a beast even possess such a thing, or...

Her eyes widened.

No.

That Ezraphor...!

How... how had he done this to her? He was the only one who could have pulled something like this off. Was he keeping tabs on her all along, waiting for her to make a move, just to orchestrate this trap? But how? She hadn't sensed a single lurking presence, no trace of interference, nothing. This couldn't be happening to her. She had been careful; she had made sure not to underestimate him!

And yet… he still bested her.

She tried to speak, to explain, to plead, but it was too late.

The Sentinel's gaze flared, twin rays of searing light piercing through her eyes, burning through bone and spirit alike. The agony spread through her body as her demonic mark withered, collapsing into nothingness.

Her scream broke into silence. Her essence shattered, cast back toward the Outer Gate, alongside the limbomite soul key, which vanished in the same burst of purging light.

The Sentinel lowered its hand, the glow from its eyes fading to a dim ember. It dusted its palms slowly, as though cleansing itself of the act, then turned its head toward the darkened edges of the signpost.

There, a figure lingered in the fog, half-shrouded, watching.

The Sentinel's gaze locked onto it, golden light cutting through the haze. For a long, tense moment, neither moved, the weight of that silent exchange rippling through the air like pressure before a storm.

Then, without a word, the Sentinel turned its back and rose into the air. Its form lifted soundlessly, wings of light unfolding as it drifted upward and vanished into the void above, leaving only the faint hum of its departure behind.

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