Page 52 of Sinful Obsession

I catch a glimpse of his expression, a mixture of grim satisfaction and predatory hunger, as he reaches out to touch the corner of a desk. It collapses instantly, the wood turning brittle and disintegrating under his fingers. A guard stumbles toward him, weapon raised, but before the man can get close, he drops to his knees, his face pale and gaunt.

“Starved of life,” Nevan murmurs, his voice a low, haunting whisper. “Everything must wither eventually.”

And then there is Ewan, my Death. He moves with a quiet, deliberate purpose, his touch the final note in this symphony of destruction. Each person he brushes against falls silent, their bodies collapsing with no time for screams or struggle. His steps are unhurried, his expression unreadable, but the aura of death around him is unmistakable.

I watch as he walks through a cluster of guards, his hand outstretched. One by one, they fall, their eyes wide with the realization of their mortality. Their bodies crumble, the life drained from them in an instant, and Ewan steps over them without a glance back.

“You’ve always been efficient,” I say as I catch up to him, my tone laced with admiration.

He doesn’t look at me, his gaze fixed ahead. “It’s not about efficiency,” he says. “It’s about inevitability.”

Lilith watches it all with a dark, radiant joy. Her power hums in the air, blending with the chaos, amplifying it. She is more alive now than I have ever seen her, her confidence unshakable as she surveys the destruction we have wrought.

“This is what freedom feels like,” she says, her voice tinged with exhilaration. “No chains. No gods. Just power.”

I step closer to her, my hand brushing against hers. “This is what you were meant for,” I say. “To stand by my side and burn the world to ash.”

Her smile deepens, and she turns to face me fully, her eyes blazing. “And I will. But first, Briarwood must fall.”

With her words, the energy in the air intensifies. The walls of the institution groan under the weight of the portal’s power, cracks spreading like veins through the building. The chaos within mirrors the destruction outside, the screams of the guards and staff blending into a symphony of annihilation.

This is what I have waited for. What we have all waited for. The end of order. The beginning of chaos. And as I stand here, surrounded by the horsemen and my queen, I feel a satisfaction so profound it borders on ecstasy.

The apocalypse has begun, and there is no turning back.

44 - Lilith

The air is a cacophony of screams and battle cries, the portal’s dark energy pulsing like a living thing. It feeds me, wrapping around my body, surging through my veins until I am drunk on its power. Briarwood is unrecognizable now—a fractured husk of what it once was, overrun by chaos and destruction. I stand at the heart of it, the portal at my back, Asmodeus at my side, and my horsemen wreaking havoc around us.

The sound of wings slicing through the air draws my attention, a sharp, almost melodic hum that pierces the chaotic symphony. The angels descend, their radiant forms a stark contrast to the darkness we have unleashed. Their weapons gleam with celestial light, and their faces are set with grim determination.

I smile. Let them come.

They aim for the portal first, their movements swift and calculated. I see Michael among them, his eyes blazing with righteous fury as he raises a blade of pure light. His voice cutsthrough the din like a sharp wind. “Seal it! Do not let them escape!”

Seal it? As if they could.

I step forward, my hand outstretched, and the portal pulses in response, its energy flaring outward like a protective shield. The angels falter, their forms dimming slightly as the portal’s darkness pushes back against their light.

“Not today,” I murmur, my voice low and dangerous.

Asmodeus moves beside me, his towering form casting a shadow over the angels. His laughter is a deep, resonant growl, filled with amusement and menace. “They always think they can win,” he says, his eyes locked on Michael. “And they are always wrong.”

The angels charge, their light searing against the darkness, and the battle erupts.

Vito is the first to move, stepping into the fray with a smirk that borders on cruel. He raises a hand, his power rippling outward in invisible waves. The angels hesitate, their movements faltering as their wills bend under his influence. I watch as one angel turns on another, his celestial blade slicing through his comrade with precision. The betrayed angel lets out a scream that is both human and inhuman, a sound that echoes in the air like shattered glass.

“Divide and conquer,” Vito says, his tone mocking as he steps closer to his next victim. “It’s almost too easy.”

Kaua is a force of nature, a storm of rage and destruction that cannot be contained. He charges into the angels with a roar, his fists colliding with their radiant forms. Each punch lands with a sound like thunder, their light dimming under the sheer force of his blows. He grabs one angel by the wings, tearing them apart with a sickening crack before slamming the body into the ground.

“Fight me!” he roars, his voice echoing through the battlefield. “Come at me with everything you’ve got, or don’t bother coming at all!”

Nevan is quieter, his presence less overt but no less deadly. He moves through the fray like a shadow, his aura of famine spreading outward. The angels weaken as they approach him, their strength draining from their bodies, their movements slowing. One angel raises her blade to strike him, but her arms falter, her weapon falling from her grasp as she collapses to the ground, her once-radiant form now dull and lifeless.

“You can’t fight hunger,” Nevan murmurs, his voice a soft, haunting whisper. “It consumes everything.”

And then there’s Ewan. My Death. He moves with a grace that is almost beautiful, his steps deliberate, his touch lethal. Each angel he encounters falls with a single, silent touch, their bodies crumbling into ash before they even have a chance to scream. He is unyielding, unrelenting, a force that cannot be stopped.

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