Lucifer suddenly pops out infront of Caleif and I making me reel back and squeal. "God damn it, stop that!" I say hoping no one else heard that girlish scream.
Lucifer's perfect smile widens at my less-than-dignified reaction, and I can practically see the amusement dancing in those ever-shifting eyes. "My apologies," he says, though he sounds anything but sorry. "I do so enjoy making an entrance."
"By giving people heart attacks?" I mutter, my pulse still racing from the unexpected appearance. Beside me, Caleif has gone tense, her hand instinctively moving to where she'd normally keep a weapon if she were expecting trouble.
"Only the fun ones," Lucifer replies smoothly, straightening his perfectly tailored suit jacket. "Though I must say, that particular sound was quite... endearing. Very human of you."
Heat floods my cheeks, and I resist the urge to check if anyone else witnessed my moment of cosmic embarrassment. "What do you want, Lucifer? Because if this is about your earlier offer, I'm still not interested in whatever game you're playing."
"Game?" He places a hand over his heart in mock offense. "I'm wounded. Here I am, simply checking on the progress of your remarkable achievement, and you assume ulterior motives."
"Because you always have ulterior motives," I point out, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "It's literally what you're known for."
"Fair point," he concedes with a theatrical sigh. "Though I prefer to think of it as... strategic thinking. Speaking of which, how did your meeting with the delegations go? I trust they were suitably impressed by your diplomatic skills?"
The fact that he knows about the meeting doesn't surprise me—Lucifer seems to know everything that happens within a hundred-mile radius of anything interesting. What surprises me is the genuine curiosity in his voice, as if he actually cares about the outcome.
"About as well as you'd expect," I say carefully. "Lots of posturing, some veiled threats, and a tentative agreement to try cooperation for six months."
"Ah, the angel made threats," he says, nodding sagely. "Raziel's faction, I assume? They do love their ultimatums. Very... binary thinking, angels. Everything is either perfect order or complete chaos. No middle ground."
"You know about the factions?"
"I know about everything, dear boy. It's my job." He glances around the courtyard, his gaze lingering on the doorway where a new group of beings is emerging—what looks like a mixed delegation of humans and demons. "Though I must admit, the speed of these developments has been... refreshing. Centuries of stagnation, and then suddenly everyone wants to play diplomat."
I follow his gaze, watching as the mixed group approaches one of the academy staff members. The humans look nervous but determined, while the demons seem amused by their companions' discomfort. Still, they're talking to each other instead of trying to kill each other, which feels like progress.
"Is that what you wanted?" I ask, turning back to Lucifer. "All this chaos and change?"
"Chaos?" He looks genuinely offended. "This isn't chaos, Kamen. This is evolution. The natural progression of a cosmic system that had become far too rigid for its own good." His expression softens slightly, becoming almost... paternal. "What you've accomplished here—it's what I've been hoping for since the original separation. A chance for the realms to grow beyond their limitations."
There's something in his tone that makes me pause. Beneath the usual theatrical manipulation, I hear something that sounds almost like... sincerity? From Lucifer?
"You really mean that," I say, more statement than question.
"I rarely say things I don't mean," he replies. "Though I often don't say all of what I mean. There's a difference."
Caleif, who's been quietly observing this exchange, finally speaks up. "What aren't you saying now?"
Lucifer's perfect smile returns, but there's something different about it—less performative, more genuine. "That I'm proud of you," he says, looking directly at me. "Both of you. You've accomplished something I thought might take centuries to achieve, and you've done it with remarkable grace considering the circumstances."
The admission catches me completely off guard. Pride? From the Devil? I'm not sure how to process that.
"I'm not sure I want your pride," I say, though the words come out weaker than I intended.
"Whether you want it or not, you have it," he says simply. "Along with my respect, for what that's worth. You've proven that change is possible, that the old ways don't have to be the only ways. That's... significant."
Before I can respond, the sound of rapid footsteps echoes across the courtyard. Elara appears, moving with the kind of purposeful urgency that usually means something's gone wrong.
"Kamen," she calls out, then stops short when she sees Lucifer. "Oh. You're here again."
"Miss Blackwood," Lucifer says with a polite nod. "Always a pleasure. Though I sense you have pressing matters to discuss with our mutual friend."
"We have a problem," she says, her green eyes flicking between Lucifer and me. "Actually, we have several problems. But one of them is pretty urgent."
"What kind of problem?" I ask, though I'm already bracing myself for the answer.
"The kind that involves unauthorized portal activity, missing academy students, and what appears to be a very pissed off dragon."
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Of course there's a dragon. Because why would anything ever be simple?"
"Oh, this should be entertaining," Lucifer says, his eyes lighting up with genuine interest. "I do so love a good dragon story."
"This isn't entertainment," I snap, my exhaustion making me more irritable than usual. "If students are missing—"
"Then we find them," Caleif says firmly, her hand finding mine. "Together."
"Indeed," Lucifer agrees. "Though you might want to hurry. Dragons are notoriously impatient when they're angry, and this one has been disturbed from a very long nap."
I stare at him. "You know about this dragon?"
"I know about most dragons," he says with a casual shrug. "This particular one has been sleeping beneath the ruins of an old monastery in the Carpathian Mountains for the better part of three centuries. Lovely creature, really. Terrible temper when awakened prematurely."
"And you didn't think to mention this before?"
"You didn't ask," he says with that infuriating perfect smile. "Besides, I assumed your new doorway system would have better security protocols. My mistake."
The casual way he admits to withholding potentially crucial information makes my jaw clench. "What else haven't you told me?"
"Oh, quite a lot," he says cheerfully. "But don't worry—most of it isn't immediately relevant to your current crisis. The dragon, however..." He glances at his watch, a gesture so mundane it seems absurd coming from him. "You have perhaps an hour before it decides to level the nearest human settlement out of sheer annoyance."
"An hour?" Elara's voice rises an octave. "You could have led with that!"
"Where's the fun in that?" Lucifer asks, then waves his hand dismissively. "Don't worry. I have every confidence in Kamen's ability to handle the situation. After all, he did just successfully negotiate with representatives from three different realms. How hard can one dragon be?"
I want to strangle him. Actually, physically strangle the most powerful being in existence. The urge is so strong that Estingoth's presence stirs in my mind, apparently approving of the violent impulse.
"Fine," I say through gritted teeth. "Where exactly are these students, and how do we get to them without triggering an international incident?"
"Ah, now you're asking the right questions," Lucifer says, his approval evident. "As for the where—follow the unauthorized portal traces. Your enhanced senses should be able to track them easily enough. As for the how..." He pauses dramatically. "Well, that's where things get interesting."
"Interesting how?"
"The dragon isn't just angry about being awakened," he explains, his tone becoming more serious. "It's angry about being awakened by what it perceives as an invasion of its territory. Your students, bless their curious hearts, appear to have stumbled into what the dragon considers its personal hoard."
"Hoard of what?"
"Knowledge," he says simply. "Ancient texts, forgotten spells, artifacts from the time before the separation. The monastery was built over the dragon's collection, and your students have been... browsing."
I feel a headache building behind my eyes. "So we have academy students who've accidentally committed the supernatural equivalent of breaking and entering, and a dragon who thinks they're thieves."
"Precisely," Lucifer confirms. "Though I prefer to think of it as a learning opportunity. For everyone involved."
"This is insane," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "How am I supposed to negotiate with a dragon?"
"Very carefully," he says with a grin that's all teeth. "Though I suspect you'll find dragons more reasonable than angels, once you get past the initial threats of incineration."
"That's not as reassuring as you think it is."
"It wasn't meant to be reassuring," he replies. "It was meant to be accurate. There's a difference."
Caleif squeezes my hand, drawing my attention back to her. "We can do this," she says quietly. "Whatever this dragon wants, whatever it takes to get the students back safely—we'll figure it out."
I look at her, then at Elara's determined expression, and feel some of the panic ease. They're right. We've faced impossible odds before and come out the other side. One dragon, even a very old and very angry one, can't be worse than reshaping cosmic reality.
Can it?
"Alright," I say, straightening my shoulders. "Let's go save some students and hopefully not start a war with an ancient dragon."
"Excellent attitude," Lucifer says, clapping his hands together. "This should be quite the adventure."
"You're not coming with us," I tell him firmly.
"Oh, but I am," he says, his perfect smile becoming predatory. "You see, I have a personal interest in this particular dragon. We're... old friends."
Of course they are. Because nothing in my life can ever be straightforward.
"Fine," I say, too tired to argue. "But if you make this worse—"
"I'll make it better," he interrupts. "Or at least more interesting. Trust me."
"I don't trust you."
"Smart man," he says approvingly. "Now, shall we go rescue your students before they accidentally trigger a supernatural incident that makes the evening news?"
I look one more time at the peaceful scene in the courtyard—beings from three realms working together, learning from each other, building something new. Then I sigh and turn toward whatever fresh chaos awaits us.
"Lead the way."
As we head toward the sanctuary's main entrance, I catch Elara muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like "Why is it always dragons?" I can't say I disagree with the sentiment.
The unauthorized portal traces are easy enough to follow once I focus my enhanced senses. They appear as faint silver threads in the air, visible only when I look at them sideways—like trying to see stars in your peripheral vision. The trail leads from one of the smaller doorways in the east wing, winding through the sanctuary grounds before disappearing into what must be an unstable tear in reality.
"How many students are we talking about?" I ask Elara as we walk, trying to push down the growing anxiety in my chest.
"Four," she replies grimly. "Third-year academy students working on an independent research project about pre-separation magical theory. They were supposed to be studying in the library, not dimension-hopping to ancient monasteries."
"Curious minds," Lucifer observes cheerfully, keeping pace beside us with that unnaturally smooth stride of his. "I do admire initiative in the young."
"Initiative that might get them killed," I point out.
"Or educated in ways their curriculum never imagined," he counters. "Dragons are excellent teachers, assuming you survive the lesson."
I'm starting to understand why people find Lucifer so infuriating. Every conversation with him feels like verbal chess, where he's playing by rules I don't understand and enjoying my confusion far too much.
The portal trace leads us to a section of the sanctuary I've never explored—a narrow corridor lined with doors that look older than the rest of the architecture. The air here feels different, charged with potential energy that makes my skin prickle.
"This wing was built over a natural convergence point," Valen explains, appearing from one of the side passages with his arms full of scrolls and looking slightly frazzled. "We use it for advanced dimensional studies. The students had permission to practice basic portal theory, but nothing like this."
He gestures to where the silver trail terminates—or rather, where it punches straight through reality itself. There's a jagged tear in the air about the size of a door, its edges crackling with unstable energy. Through it, I can see glimpses of stone walls and flickering torchlight.
"Definitely not basic portal theory," I mutter, studying the tear's structure. It's crude, unstable, the kind of thing that happens when someone with more enthusiasm than skill tries to force their way between realms. "How long have they been gone?"
"Three hours," Valen says, consulting his notes. "The portal formed spontaneously during their practice session. By the time the instructors realized what had happened, they'd already gone through."
"And you didn't think to send a rescue team immediately?"
"We tried," Elara interjects. "The portal destabilizes whenever anyone approaches. We've lost two probe spells and nearly had an instructor sucked into whatever's on the other side."
I extend my senses toward the tear, feeling the chaotic energies swirling around its edges. It's like touching a live wire—painful and unpredictable. But underneath the chaos, I can sense something else. A pattern, almost. As if the instability isn't random but responding to something.
"It's reacting to the dragon," I realize. "The portal isn't just unstable—it's being influenced by whatever's happening on the other side."
"Fascinating," Lucifer says, moving closer to examine the tear. "The young ones have managed to create a sympathetic resonance with the dragon's emotional state. Quite advanced magic, really, even if it was accidental."
"Can you stabilize it?" Caleif asks, her golden-flecked eyes fixed on the crackling portal.
I study the tear's structure, comparing it to my memories of the doorways I created during the cosmic transformation. The principles are similar, but the execution is completely wrong. It's like someone tried to build a precision instrument with a sledgehammer.
"Maybe," I say slowly. "But not from this side. I'd need to go through and work on it from the other end."
"Absolutely not," Elara says immediately. "We're not risking you disappearing into an unstable portal to face an angry dragon."
"Then what do you suggest?" I ask, though I can already see the stubborn set of her jaw that means she's about to propose something equally dangerous but somehow less risky in her mind.
"We wait for it to stabilize naturally, then send in a proper rescue team."
"And how long will that take?" Lucifer asks, his tone deceptively casual. "Because I should mention that dragons become exponentially more irritated the longer uninvited guests remain in their territory."
"How much more irritated?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know.
"Well, currently it's probably just considering eating them," he says thoughtfully. "Give it another hour or two, and it might decide to make an example of them. Dragons are very big on examples."
The image of four academy students facing down an ancient, angry dragon makes my stomach clench. These aren't experienced fighters or cosmic entities—they're kids who made a mistake and are now in way over their heads.
"I'm going through," I decide, stepping toward the portal before anyone can stop me.
"Kamen, wait—" Caleif starts, but I'm already extending my hand toward the tear's edge.
The moment my fingers touch the unstable energy, pain shoots up my arm like liquid fire. But I push through it, using my enhanced senses to feel for the portal's underlying structure. It's damaged, yes, but not irreparably. With the right touch, the right application of power...
The tear suddenly expands, its edges solidifying as I pour energy into its framework. The chaotic crackling settles into a steady hum, and the view through the portal clears to show a stone corridor lit by torches that burn with an eerie blue flame.
"There," I gasp, pulling my hand back and shaking off the residual pain. "It's stable enough for passage, but I don't know how long it'll hold."
"Then we'd better move fast," Elara says, checking her weapons with practiced efficiency.
"We?" I raise an eyebrow.
"You don't think I'm letting you face a dragon alone, do you?" she asks with a slight smile. "Besides, someone needs to keep you from doing anything stupidly heroic."
"I'm coming too," Caleif adds firmly. "Those students are from the academy. They're our responsibility."
I want to argue, to tell them it's too dangerous, that I should handle this alone. But looking at their determined faces, I realize that would be falling back into old patterns. The lone hero routine that got me into cosmic trouble in the first place.
"Fine," I say. "But we do this carefully. No unnecessary risks, no splitting up, and if things go bad, we retreat immediately."
"Agreed," they say in unison, though I notice neither of them sounds particularly convincing.
"Excellent," Lucifer says, stepping toward the portal with obvious anticipation. "Shall we go meet my old friend?"
"Your old friend who might try to incinerate us on sight," I point out.
"Only if we're rude," he says with that perfect smile. "Dragons appreciate proper etiquette. Most people just don't bother to learn it."
"And you're going to teach us dragon etiquette on the way?"
"Of course not," he says, stepping through the portal with casual confidence. "Where would be the fun in that?"
I stare at the space where he disappeared, then look at Caleif and Elara. "I really hate that guy sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Elara asks dryly.
"Okay, most of the time," I admit. "But right now, he's our best chance of getting those students back alive."
Taking a deep breath, I step through the portal into whatever fresh chaos awaits us on the other side.
The first thing that hits me is the smell—ancient stone, old parchment, and something that reminds me uncomfortably of sulfur. The second thing is the temperature, which is significantly warmer than the desert sanctuary we just left.
We're standing in a stone corridor that looks like it belongs in a medieval monastery, complete with arched ceilings and religious frescoes that seem to shift in the flickering torchlight. But there's something off about the proportions—everything is slightly too large, as if built for inhabitants bigger than normal humans.
"Welcome to the Monastery of Forgotten Truths," Lucifer says, his voice echoing strangely in the confined space. "Built in the 12th century by monks who thought they could hide sacred knowledge from both Heaven and Hell. Charming, really."
"And the dragon just... moved in?" I ask, following the silver portal trace as it continues deeper into the monastery.
"The dragon was here first," he corrects. "The monks built around its lair, thinking they could coexist peacefully. It worked for a few decades, until the dragon decided the monks were too noisy."
"What happened to them?"
"Oh, nothing dramatic. It simply convinced them to relocate. Dragons can be quite persuasive when they want to be."
The corridor opens into a vast chamber that takes my breath away. The ceiling soars impossibly high, supported by columns carved to look like intertwined serpents. The walls are lined with alcoves containing what must be thousands of books, scrolls, and artifacts. And in the center of it all, arranged in careful piles that reach nearly to the ceiling, is the most impressive hoard I've ever seen.
But it's not gold or jewels. It's knowledge. Books in languages I don't recognize, scrolls that seem to glow with their own inner light, artifacts that pulse with magical energy. The accumulated wisdom of centuries, carefully cataloged and protected.
And standing in the middle of it all, looking very small and very scared, are four academy students.