The Abyss stretched endlessly before them, an oppressive landscape of jagged cliffs, rivers of molten lava, and skies that churned with dark clouds.

Every breath felt heavy, thick with sulfur and ash, as if the air itself resisted their presence.

Seraphine's wings shimmered faintly in the dim light, the radiant glow they once held in the mortal realm now dulled by the malevolent energy surrounding them.

Azrael, towering beside her, surveyed the desolate terrain with a steady gaze.

His wings — blackened and scarred, tendrils of shadow and flame coiling around them — radiated a dark energy that seemed to resonate with the Abyss.

They were deep in enemy territory now, and though the battle with the vanguards was behind them, the real danger still loomed ahead.

Seraphine adjusted her grip on her sword, her silver eyes scanning the shifting shadows around them. "Are you sure this is the right path?" she asked, her voice low, though it echoed strangely in the vast emptiness.

Azrael’s molten amber gaze flicked toward her, his expression unreadable. “I can feel it,” he replied, his deep voice reverberating like distant thunder. “We're getting closer to the heart.”

As they pressed forward, the ground beneath their feet seemed to pulse with an unnatural rhythm, as though the Abyss itself was alive, aware of their presence.

Seraphine’s unease grew with every step. They had battled countless demons to reach this point, but the Abyss held far greater horrors than the vanguards.

Suddenly, a low, guttural growl echoed from the shadows, and Seraphine instinctively raised her sword.

Azrael tensed, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade, as dark forms began to emerge from the mist ahead.

The creatures were twisted, grotesque figures, their bodies barely humanoid — some crawling on all fours, others lumbering upright, their eyes glowing a sickly red.

“More sentinels,” Azrael muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “They never learn.”

Seraphine’s wings flared out, and without another word, they charged forward together.

The battle was swift but brutal. Azrael moved like a force of nature, his sword cutting through the creatures with precision, his strikes fueled by centuries of battle. His wings flared with each blow, casting fiery embers into the air.

Seraphine danced between the attacks, her sword a blur of silver as she cut down the sentinels with grace and precision.

Her movements were fluid, each strike imbued with the celestial power she still carried, despite the Abyss’s darkness weighing on her.

Together, they were unstoppable, their bond as warriors unspoken yet undeniable.

As the last of the sentinels fell, Azrael wiped the blackened blood from his blade, his eyes still glowing with the remnants of battle fury. “They’re sending more after us,” he said, his voice dark. “They know we’re getting close.”

Seraphine sheathed her sword, her breath steadying. “Then we don’t have much time.”

Before Azrael could respond, a figure emerged from the swirling shadows ahead, cloaked in tattered black robes.

His presence alone sent a chill down Seraphine’s spine, though she remained composed.

“Azrael,” the figure rasped, his voice a harsh whisper that seemed to scrape against the walls of the Abyss. His hood concealed most of his face, but the gleam of pale, icy eyes was unmistakable. “Still alive, I see.”

Azrael’s expression darkened, his wings rustling as he stepped forward. “Kaidan.”

The figure — Kaidan — laughed softly, the sound devoid of any warmth. “I thought I felt a disturbance. What brings you so deep into the Abyss? I had assumed you’d finally given up on this futile quest.”

Azrael’s grip tightened on his sword, but he remained still. “You know why we’re here.”

Kaidan tilted his head, his hood shifting just enough for Seraphine to catch a glimpse of his scarred, angular face. “The relic,” he murmured, his voice almost thoughtful. “Ah, of course. Always chasing the impossible, aren’t you?”

Seraphine stepped forward, her eyes narrowed. “Do you know where it is?”

Kaidan’s gaze flicked toward her, and for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitched into a mocking smile. “An angel, working alongside the fallen. How touching. But to answer your question — yes, I know where it is.”

Azrael’s eyes burned with intensity. “Then tell us.”

Kaidan chuckled darkly. “What’s the rush? The Abyss isn’t going anywhere.”

Seraphine’s patience wore thin. “Every moment we waste, the tear in the Veil grows. If we don’t stop it, both this world and the mortal realm will fall.”

Kaidan’s smile faded, his expression becoming more serious. “Very well. The relic you seek lies within the deepest reaches of the Abyss. But reaching it won’t be easy. It’s guarded by the Furies — ancient beings far more powerful than anything you’ve faced so far. And even if you manage to defeat them, the relic’s power may be beyond your control.”

Azrael’s eyes gleamed with defiance. “We’ll face whatever stands in our way.”

Kaidan shrugged. “As you wish. But know this — once you set foot in that place, there’s no turning back.”

Seraphine exchanged a glance with Azrael.

There was no fear in his eyes, only determination. They had come too far to turn back now.

“Where do we go?” Azrael asked.

Kaidan gestured toward the dark expanse beyond them. “Follow the river of flames. It will lead you to the Gate of the Furies. From there, it’s all up to you.”

Without another word, Kaidan vanished back into the shadows, leaving Seraphine and Azrael standing alone at the edge of the unknown.

Seraphine took a deep breath, her wings folding behind her as she prepared herself for the next battle. “Are you ready for this?” she asked, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Azrael’s lips curved into a grim smile. “I’ve been ready for this my entire life.”

Together, they descended deeper into the heart of the Abyss, where their greatest challenge awaited.