I bitterly swallowed my thoughts from yesterday about the confidence I had labeled as real as I stared through the dimmed mosaic window before me, watching Odeion which loomed in the dark distance.

Shaky fingers found the chain around my waist, fumbling and picking at the gold. The song of the metal was faint and hollow in the roar of noise surrounding me.

I glanced across my shoulder, stealing a look at the servants rushing down the hallway, hurrying from room to room with armfuls of splendid decorations, servers carrying trays and plates brimming with lavish arrangements of food, and guards clad in gilded armor marching after them. Everyone was preparing for tonight.

With a shaky breath, I turned my back to them once more, chest aching from nervousness.

All that stood between me and the grand celebration were minutes. The hours had long wasted away. It was now, and if I didn't arrive soon, I would be late. Still, I found myself unable to leave the corner I had hidden away in as I fixed my attention on the midnight scene in front of me.

I tried to imagine the way the sun would rise above the horizon in mere hours, tried to picture the way its ways would spread and allow the light to flood into Hell for the first time in centuries. All because of Hongjoong and me. It was nearly impossible for me to paint the picture in my mind.

Odeion would be unrecognizable, and I would be responsible. The twilight paradise visible through the colourful glass panes would never again be the same, the tempting darkness forever gone. All because of a fallen angel.

I felt far from ready to face the people eagerly waiting in anticipation by the Aubade Basilica, and, as I watched my obscured reflection stare back at me, I couldn't help but feel small and unworthy of their gratitude. My breath came quicker and quicker the more my worry grew, my chest rising and falling in irregular intervals.

I wasn't ready.

I wasn't a hero.

I wasn't a saviour.

I was a traitor. A fallen angel. A sinner.

I flinched at the warmth of a hand on my shoulder, a gasp parting my lips as I was torn from my downward spiral of self-criticism and turned to the son of Satan. His smile faltered as his eyes found mine, the excitement written across his face melting into that of concern instead.

"Are you alright?" he asked, carefully.

"I'm fine," I said, but the lie tasted bitter despite how effortlessly it had slipped off my tongue. I straightened myself, smoothing down the fabric of my midnight dress as I put on a mask of sincerity.

My attire complimented his tunic, and the chain circling my hips the gold-work threat neatly sewn into the dark fabric of his top. His robe, on the other hand, complete with crimson and dragons, made him stand out.

San looked powerful as he moved to stand in front of me, a stark contrast to the colourful panes of glass behind him. His ebony eyes were disarming, the way his raven hair brushed against his forehead as a frown creased the skin between his brows even more so.

"You underestimate me if you think I'm that easily fooled, angel," he said to which I hesitated before, at last, mumbling, "I'm nervous."

"And why is that?" he asked, his voice earnest, sincere, as the question settled in the air between us. Dark eyes searched my face as he awaited my answer which I found came easily to me.

"Because wearing black won't change the fact that I'm the daughter of your worst enemy, San," I admitted, surprised at my own honesty. And then the floodgates were open, allowing the rest of my fears to come rushing down like a violent flood.

"Because giving you the Lunar Flame won't change the fact that I'm the heir to the world above or that I'm destined to lead a war I don't want to fight. Because walking among demons won't change the fact that I will never be one," I said, out of breath by the time I finally fell quiet again.

And that was the entire truth, laid out before us in all of its hideous colours. I fought the urge to cry as I watched him, frowning as a gentle smile played at his lips and he shook his head.

"There is no such thing as angels and demons, Dahlia," he said, and I faltered.

My eyes widened as Lilith's words echoed in my mind, a faint whisper of a memory I had long forgotten.

"We are all both. Darkness and light do not define us."

"You knew?" I whispered, the question barely more than a shocked breath as it left my lips, afraid that others would hear.

"We are more than the sins we represent. Many, even in my own court, believe my father's native tongue to be lies, but, in this, he has never obscured the truth from me. Whether we wear black or white, whether our worlds are dark or bright, no amount of lies will ever be able to hide the truth behind our masks. Odeion has always been Heaven, no matter the lack of light. To me it is the most beautiful place there is."

"And you have always been an angel," I said.

"No matter how dark my wings are," San confirmed, his smile growing with every word.

I paused, admiring him for a moment. It was strange to see him so mature, so unwavering and sure of himself as he stood proudly before me. A prince. An heir to an entire court. One of eight that would rule Odeion in the future.

"And the others?" I ventured.

"They do not," he said to which I nodded a little only to falter as a name instinctively came to mind.

"Hongjoong?"

San shook his head as an answer, placing his hand on my shoulder once more to give it a reassuring squeeze as if to keep me grounded. I was surprised to find that it helped, stealing another glance at him, studying every cut and curve of his fox-like features. He was handsome, and bright, more so than I had assumed him to be.

My mouth fell open as another question lingered at the tip of my tongue, but he stole my chance to speak as he lifted a brow and the smile playing at his lips turned crooked.

"You know," he began, hand slowly drifting down my arm. I fell silent, sucking in a quick breath as I held his eyes. "I know just the thing to ease your nerves," he said daringly, fingers trailing across the bare skin before finding my hand, taking it.

"What?" I croaked, but my question went unanswered as San instead challenged it with his own. Challenged me with his own.

"Do you trust me?" San asked, barely allowing me a chance to ponder the words before he was pulling me down the hallway, guiding me through the darkness of the palace and away from the watchful eyes of servants and guards. I warily glanced around the vacant rooms, mirroring his every move until we, at last, turned a corner and pushed through a set of glass doors onto a terrace.

The change in temperature was graciously accepted, and, as a gentle breeze caressed my face, I closed my eyes for a moment as I felt warmth spread across the flushed skin. When they fluttered back open, it was to the realization that he was already watching me.

San cleared his throat, turning to point at the mountains from where lights glowed a rich hue of amber in the distance, a faint bloom of colour in the overall darkness of the eternal night. The Aubade Basilica.

My eyes were still glued to the horizon as he started moving again, gently tugging at my hand. Awed by the sight, I absentmindedly followed along, not realizing his intentions, nor seeing the look of mischief on his face, before it was too late and the edge of the balcony was much too close.

When I did, however, understand what was about to happen, my thoughts immediately went to the ring on my finger. The nervousness from before returned tenfold, and I fought the urge to curse at the son of Satan as I found myself unable to properly twist the piece of jewelry, and to properly fight his strength, before he hauled himself over the edge and dragged me with him.

The scream that erupted from my throat, piercing the air, was one of mixed fear and betrayal as I clenched my eyes shut and, seconds before we dove too deep, felt my wings unfurl. San, all smiles, tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me through the air, the darkness to my light.

And then we flew. Two fallen angels heading for the celebration that was to come as the last hours of the endless night seeped away.

I watched the dark structure grow in size, slowly growing clearer and more ornate despite being obscured by shadows. The basilica was built like a three-aisled cross with a dome overlooking the crossing. All glass and marble, it put the plaza at the front to shame despite endless acres of decorative and neatly arranged gardens, brickwork, and sculptures.

"Are you completely insane?" I hissed as we touched down on the steps before the doorway, instinctively reaching for the ring once more only to halt as the son of Satan turned to me, covering it with his hand. Where smirks and grins and humor had been written across his face moments before only seriousness remained.

"Don't hide them," he said, and my eyes flickered to his own which were tall and proud and midnight black against the crimson of his robe.

And then the doors swung open and it was too late. As I stared into the basilica, wide-eyed and with San's hand still holding mine, the first thing I saw was Hongjoong. Even in a sea of demons, he stood out, his eyes somehow darker and richer than all of the others' as his hand went to his throat and he turned to me, touching the necklace with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

I felt a familiar sliver of regret at the sight, longing for that faint song of his heartbeat against my fingers as San guided me into the masses that turned at the sight of my wings, of my eyes which posed a stark contrast to their own, settling on me all at once with the weight of a million questions.

Frescoes danced across the curved ceilings of enormous archways overhead, pillars and intricately sculpted columns of solid marble lining the walls at my side. Everywhere the eye fell, gold stared back from the richly ornamented walls to the fissures running across the length of the polished floors.

The dome was made of glass, perfectly crystalline windows that, in mere hours, would allow the first rays of sunlight to stream through their thin surface and flood the space below.

I could easily imagine it then, picture the way it would overpower even the light from the candelabras and chandeliers as the endless amounts of gold allowed it to spread throughout the basilica.

Etched into the marble beneath it, each letter expertly engraved with tails and decorative carvings, were the words 'Non est umbra sine luce'.

"It is not a sin to be virtuous, not immoral to be noble, and not unjust to be a saint," San assured me, "Tonight, you bear the colours of a savior, so show them. Wear them with pride."

At the very center of the cross stood a grand altar, complete with ornate pillars and a domed roof imitating the one directly above it. All glass, it too would allow light to filter through, though not from the sun.

Like the dais within the pyramid protecting the Gleam, it was slightly raised and surrounded by torches atop which flames danced lazily back and forth in a non-existent breeze that beckoned me forward. At the heart of the platform stood a pedestal and, floating above it, suspended mid-air, was an enormous glass orb.

I swallowed thickly, sensing the son of Satan move closer as his hand left mine and a hot breath ghosted across the skin on my neck. "Go to him," he whispered in my ear. And then he was gone.