A storm brewed above Veridion, the dark clouds stirring the sky and hiding the stars. It hadn't broken yet, but the air tasted like lightning, and the scent of rain permeated the city streets.
Inside the mansion, Asuriel and Vaerion waited patiently. It was finally time.
She had been practicing tracing sigils while they waited, the fruits of her labor at her feet. Asuriel's ink pooled in lazy spirals on the floor, responding to her heartbeat – steady and sharp. She leaned against the marble counter, a glass of wine sitting untouched beside her.
Vaerion stood across the room with his arms folded, watching her intently. He asked, "You're sure about this?"
"We let him wear my face," she said quietly. "I need to attend the infernal court but also be home, and allowing him to use his shapeshifting ability was the only way to accomplish both. Since it's a necessity, this will be our insurance."
