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Dear … It’s been so long I’m not even sure what I should call you. I once knew you well enough to know that you hated being called Mrs. because it made you feel old, so calling you the “woman previously known as Mrs. Hauksson” feels like an insult. I don’t want to insult you. I never did. And now I don’t even feel worthy to utter your first name. This note has barely started and I’m already rambling. Doesn’t matter that I’ve written and rewritten this thousands of times over the last twenty years; I still have no idea what to say even after writing several more drafts down over the last few days, and now I’m not even reading from one. I want to tell you everything like I used to, but I don’t know how much, if any, you want to hear anymore. If you’ve made it this far without burning or smashing this tablet, I’m sorry. That should have been the first thing out of my mouth when I started this recording, and it’s too little too late. But I am sorry for the hell I put you and the kids

The chamber fell silent, save for the heartbeat of the sinister heart that pulsed with an eerie rhythm. Mephisto and Auriel faced each other, a stillness descending upon them like a heavy shroud. The air was thick with tension, every breath charged with the possibility of violence. Auriel’s mind raced with possible outcomes should she fight him. But what if… it was possible. Gazing at her weapon, her grip tightened. Feeling her intent, Mephisto’s eyes, like the ancient burning coals, narrowed. His tail swinging side to side, aura around him becoming darker. “Think carefully.” His voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Auriel felt a tremendous chill. Like it was cutting through very soul. She looked at Mephisto, his energy a black abyss. A warning. She knew he had already calculated his first, second, tenth move. How he predicted her reactions. Always few steps ahead of her. Without her brethren, she had no chance. No… this won’t work. It’s too risky. Auriel's grip on her