He gently helped Rowena to her feet, his touch surprisingly gentle for the God of Darkness.
"Drink this," he said, pressing a vial of healing potion into her hand. "You need your strength."
Rowena hesitated, her gaze flickering between the vial and Michael's face. She had accepted her fate, had embraced the agonizing year that stretched before her. This... potion... it felt like a betrayal of her sacrifice, a way for him to delay the inevitable. But she was weak, exhausted, and a part of her, a small, stubborn ember of hope, whispered that maybe... maybe he was trying to find a way.
She drank the potion, its bitter taste familiar, unpleasant.
"Take me home, Dean," she said, her voice still weak, but with a newfound determination in her eyes. "Please."
He nodded, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. "Azazel will take you."
But before he could summon his demon butler, Rowena stopped him.
"Wait," she said, her gaze meeting his. "What about... Sabrina? And Father? Are they...?"
Sabrina, restless and ambitious, had embarked on a journey of her own. She'd been traversing pocket dimensions, seeking out dangerous beasts and powerful artifacts, determined to forge her own path to power.
Burdened by grief and the weight of his family's legacy, Ethan Winston struggled to keep the Winston clan from falling apart. The other noble families, sensing weakness in the wake of Noah's death, were circling like sharks, eager to claim a piece of the Winstons' dwindling power. If that wasn't enough, the Hunt family was pretty pissed off about everything Ethan did and they were seeking blood. The two families were on the verge of full-blown war and Nithroel's order to the Hunt family not to start a new war was the only thing that stopped them from destroying the weakened Winston family.
"They're fine," Michael said, avoiding her gaze. He didn't want to burden her with the complexities of their situation. Not now.
"Azazel will take you home. He'll... explain everything."
But Rowena shook her head.
"I haven't... asked you for anything, Dean," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I'm even willing... to forgive you. For what you did... to the mortal realm. To Noah. But... you have to fix it. Bring him back. Give me... give me a reason to... to keep living."
"Easy to say, hard to do," Michael sighed.
"One year, Rowena. One year, and I'll... find a way. I give you my word."
Rowena nodded, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. And then, with a newfound strength, she followed him out of the frozen chamber.
The moment they pushed open the bronze doors and exited the chamber, Azazel was there, waiting patiently, his gaze flickering between Michael and Rowena.
"Azazel," Michael said firmly as his gaze lingered on Rowena for a moment, "take her home. And make sure... no one touches the Winston family. Not a single hair on their heads."
Rowena stiffened, her jaw clenching.
"I don't need your... protection," she spat, her voice laced with bitterness.
She turned as Michael and Maxine entered, a rare smile softening her usually stern features.
"Dark Lord," she greeted, her voice warm, welcoming. "I heard you were having... a bit of a difficult day. With the ladies, that is."
"When am I not, Nithroel?" he sighed, shaking his head.
"Let's... sit," Michael said, gesturing toward a cluster of plush, dark velvet sofas arranged near the foot of his throne. They were surprisingly comfortable, considering their macabre surroundings. More like thrones in their own right, fit for a king... or a God of Darkness.
Nithroel, with a grace that belied her warrior's strength, settled onto one of the sofas. Michael took the seat beside her, leaning back, his gaze meeting hers. The elven guards, along with Maxine, discreetly retreated to the edge of the throne room, their presence a silent, watchful backdrop to the conversation.
"What brings you to the Dark Castle, Nithroel?" Michael asked, his voice casual, but his eyes sharp, alert. "Is there... a problem?"
Nithroel chuckled, a low, melodic sound. "Let's just say... I'm not here to add to your... lady troubles,"
She paused, her gaze turning serious.
"But I do need... a favor. From you. When you return to the realm of the Gods."
After hearing Nithroel, Michael raised an eyebrow, surprised. Nithroel had never asked him for anything before. She was a powerful goddess in her own right, the Empress of the Awor Continent, a force of nature who commanded respect and fear in equal measure. She'd been a key player in their plan to overthrow Skyhall, a valuable ally, but she'd always maintained a certain... distance.
This... favor... it felt different. There was a weight to her words, a hint of vulnerability that Michael had never seen from her before.
He wouldn't refuse her, of course. He owed her that much, at least.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice softening slightly.
Nithroel sighed, her gaze drifting towards the shadowed ceiling of the throne room.
"You know... I haven't set foot in the realm of the Gods in... well, millennia. I cut all ties. Abandoned my title, my duties... everything."
She paused, searching for the right words.
"But... there are still... loose ends. Things I need to... take care of. And one of them... is my bow."
She looked at Michael, her eyes meeting his, her voice firm.
"The Agni-King."
The name, uttered in a hushed whisper, sent a shiver down Michael's spine. He'd never heard of the Agni-King. But he knew, instinctively, that it was something... special. Important. Powerful as hell. Who the hell names a bow the Agni-King without a damn good reason?
The Agni-King... it was more than just a weapon. It was a symbol. A legend. It had made Nithroel the Goddess of Hunt, had given her the power to command the beasts of the forest, to reign over the wilds. Without it, she'd felt... naked. Vulnerable.
And there was another reason, a deeper, more primal fear that gnawed at the edges of her mind. She'd hidden the bow, concealed it in a secret chamber within her ancient temple, deep in the heart of Larnia, her former domain in the realm of the Gods. But she couldn't shake the feeling... the premonition... that it wouldn't stay hidden forever.
"When you return to the realm of the Gods," Nithroel said, her voice a low, urgent plea, "find the Agni-King. Bring it back to me. Before... before someone else finds it."
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