The scapegoat, Azazel....the very personification of humanity's sins.....was said to be the most sinister demon ever created. And worst of all, he was a creation of humans themselves. You know the old saying: humans will always play a big hand in their own undoing. Well, that was exactly the case with Azazel's birth.
Destiny can be a real bitch sometimes, especially with her terrible timing. Now, the fate of both the mystic and non-mystic realms rested on the shoulders of three young, developing witches.
"Is Azazel that powerful?" asked a clueless Lunare as they stood in the Pope's private room, the air thick with the scent of aged books and flickering candle wax.
"Oh dear, we won't truly understand until you meet him. It took everything they had to lock him away," the Pope answered with a weary grunt, his voice echoing slightly off the stone walls.
"Which of the demons locked up in the catacombs poses the greatest problems?" Amara asked curiously, her eyes scanning the room's ornate tapestries.
"According to the ancient stories, all the demons sealed down here posed threats of equal magnitude," Sophia answered quickly, her tone sharp and confident.
"You know, you don't have to always do that..." Lu said but cut himself off before he could say another word, biting his lip in frustration.
"Are you referring to me?" Sophia asked sarcastically, tilting her head with a smirk.
"No," Lu muttered, looking away.
"Oh," she replied flatly.
"There's really no time for arguments—we need to formulate a plan on how to defeat these demons," Amara said authoritatively, stepping between them like a natural leader.
"Okay..." they both answered in unison, and the Pope chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with faint amusement. He rose slowly from the edge of his bed, limping across the room toward the far wall where a sturdy wooden cupboard stood, tucked behind the trio. He brushed past them, his robes whispering against the floor, and finally reached the cabinet. Gripping its brass handles, he swung the doors open wide. Inside, there was nothing but an inky, endless darkness that seemed to swallow the light from the room. The trio stared in astonishment, their mouths slightly agape.
"Well, come on, kids—to the catacombs we go. We don't have all day," he said briskly, stepping into the void without hesitation. The cupboard was a tall, long rectangular structure, making it easy to walk straight into its depths.
"Amazing!" Sophia gasped as she stepped through and beheld the inner structure of the famed Vatican catacombs—the central vault of secrets guarded by the church and other holy citadels. It was an eerie, captivating sight: winding tunnels carved from ancient stone, walls etched with faded inscriptions, shadowy chambers branching off like veins, narrow niches holding forgotten relics, and a heavy pall of death that clung to the damp air. All of it created a surreal, otherworldly experience for any outsider, including the trio, whose footsteps echoed softly on the uneven ground.
"They sure did kill a lot of people here," Lu muttered, his voice laced with distress as he glanced at the skeletal remains peeking from alcoves.
"The feeling of death comes from the many bodies buried here between the 2nd and 5th centuries. If you follow that tunnel to your right, you'd reach the Chamber of Bones—but we're not here for sightseeing," the Pope narrated, using subtle hand gestures to emphasize his points, his limp not slowing his purposeful stride.
"Wow," Amara muttered under her breath, her eyes wide as she took in the flickering torchlight dancing on the walls. The Pope took a sharp turn to the left and led them down another narrow tunnel, the trio following diligently. Though he limped, he moved with surprising speed, his knowledge of the paths guiding them flawlessly.
When they reached the end of that tunnel, they veered right into yet another passageway. Toward its ending, a crushing pressure bore down on them, making the ground feel heavier and drawing groans of pain from their lips. It carried the weight of despair, regret, and raw revenge, like invisible chains wrapping around their souls.
"Something isn't right," Lu said amid the groans, his face contorted in discomfort. Everyone was groaning except the Pope, who stood firm, gazing into the dim distance ahead.
"Great Principalities, grant me strength to overcome this challenge," the Pope intoned in a low, steady voice. Immediately, a bright light erupted from within him, warm and golden, pushing back the shadows. The sinister pressure vanished in an instant, leaving the air clearer and lighter.
"This is what we fight," he said solemnly, then walked forward, signaling the others to follow. They took another turn, the tunnels twisting like a labyrinth, and before they knew it, they stood before a large, towering gate forged from weathered bronze, its surface etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly in the low light.
From the gate, a sinister energy seeped through the cracks, cold and malevolent, causing the trio to break out in a cold sweat of fear. Lu sniffed, his eyes welling up with tears that threatened to spill—it was building in his chest, raw and unfiltered. But nobody teased him for it, because quite frankly, if anyone else had endured what they had, they'd be bawling their eyes out—or worse, they'd be dead.
But they were built for this. The universe had granted them power, and that automatically engineered them to face these ordeals head-on.
The Pope walked forward and touched the gate, his wrinkled hands feeling along its intricate structure, tracing the runes with deliberate care. The trio exchanged puzzled glances—what was he doing, and why was he touching it like that? But it was the Pope, so they held their questions, watching in tense silence.
"Something's wrong," he said after a few moments of probing, his voice grave. The trio instantly snapped to attention, rushing to his side to see what had alarmed him.
"What is the problem, Your Holiness?" Sophia asked as they gathered beside him, their faces etched with concern.
"The power... it feels off," he replied, his brow furrowed deeply. The others exchanged worried glances, their brows narrowing in shared unease.
"Why? I don't sense anything strange. Do you guys?" Amara said, and Lu and Sophia shook their heads in agreement, though doubt lingered in their eyes.
"You wouldn't know—you haven't been down here before," the Pope grunted, and a heavy silence followed, broken only by the distant drip of water echoing through the tunnels.
"When did Lilith mention that Azazel was going to escape?" he asked, shattering the brief quiet.
"She didn't say exactly, but all she said was that he was trying to..." Sophia began, but the Pope cut her off abruptly.
"GET OUT OF HERE, KIDS! AZAZEL HAS ESCAPED! DO NOT—" He couldn't finish his words. A violent cough wracked his body, and blood sprayed from his mouth in a crimson arc. He clutched at his chest, feeling a searing pain explode through it. When he looked down, he saw five jagged blades protruding from his torso, slick with his own blood.
Lu screamed at the ungodly sight, his voice raw with horror. The Pope crumpled to the ground, lifeless, his fall revealing an ominous figure standing in the shadows behind him—a tall, hooded silhouette wreathed in dark mist.
"Hello, kids," it rasped, its voice like grinding stones, sending chills down their spines.