Emmy's Library

Within the shining halls of the Celestial Palace, the Heavenly Host lined up in silence. The magnificence of the surroundings offered little solace as they awaited Michael's report.

Seated upon the illustrious Celestial Throne, was Father—the divine embodiment of wisdom, power, and boundless love. His countenance was beyond human comprehension, for it held the essence of all creation and the knowledge of every moment that had ever existed. Eyes like blazing orbs gazed upon His army, and though they shone with eternal brilliance, there was an enigmatic depth to them that concealed cosmic secrets.

Michael stepped forward, his angelic form emanating power and authority. He recounted the events of the epic struggle, how the Celestial Realm's army fought valiantly against the demonic forces, displaying unwavering loyalty and courage in the face of darkness.

As the details of their hard-fought victory were relayed, Father's divine presence seemed to intensify, His eyes attentive to every word spoken by His commander. They listened to Michael's account, hoping that their triumph would bring an end to the bloodshed.

When Michael concluded his report, the hall fell into a respectful silence. The moment seemed to hang in the air, and Sariel noticed Father's expression was inscrutable, as if contemplating the weight of the universe itself.

In the quietude of the celestial chamber, Sariel expected Father to order a well-deserved retreat for the Heavenly Host.

But to his surprise, Father didn't issue such a command.

Instead, Father's voice echoed through the hall, resonating with an unexpected strength, "My valiant archangels and heavenly warriors, you have achieved a remarkable victory against the forces of darkness. Your unwavering devotion and sacrifices are not unnoticed, and your presence here brings hope to all realms."

Sariel exchanged a glance with his brethren, but he saw no trace of pride in their weary eyes. Not any more. Their once-gleaming wings were now tattered and bruised just like his own. Their angelic forms bore scars, both seen and unseen, from the relentless clashes with the forces of darkness. Despite the victory they had achieved, there was little celebration in their hearts, for the price they paid was steep, and it would grow ever steeper.

The bad days were supposed to be done. They had won that fight. They were all supposed to be okay until the end of their days. But the question remained, why weren't they all okay? Sariel couldn't help but feel a heavy weight in his heart, and hope seemed distant amid the doubts that troubled him.

As the silence lingered, Sariel stepped forth, unbidden.

"Father," the archangel spoke, voice heavy, "we have prevailed against the demon army, but the Devildom remains. Why do we keep fighting if darkness persists? Why do we suffer these battles if they don't lead to lasting peace?"

The atmosphere in the hall shifted imperceptibly. He felt Father's gaze boring into him. A fleeting shadow crossed his face before His divine composure returned. Sariel felt a shard of icy fear pierce his heart.

But Father's eyes softened. With a voice that carried the weight of the cosmos, He responded, "The path to lasting peace is not always straight, my child. Even in victory, darkness may still find footholds, for it is the nature of free will and choice."

Sariel listened intently, seeking solace in Father's words, yet the gnawing doubt persisted. "Will it ever end, Father?" he implored, his desperation seeping into his words. "Will there ever be a time when we can truly rest and know that the darkness is vanquished?"

More questions. The hall seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the divine response.

Yet, like a beacon of hope cutting through the uncertainty, Father's regal presence remained unbroken and He spoke with unwavering assurance, "My archangel, fear not. While the battles may seem unending, the grand design unfolds as it should. Your actions, and your unwavering devotion, are integral to the cosmic order. Trust in the significance of your endeavors, and know that every step taken in the name of righteousness resonates throughout the realms."

Father's words reverberated in the hall. Sariel looked up, meeting Father's gaze with a mix of emotions—and then he knew, with every fiber of his being, that he should have never doubted. Though he might not have all the answers, he knew that his purpose was clear—to stand for love, goodness, and compassion in a universe that often veered towards chaos. His heart swelled with gratitude for the opportunity to serve in Father's celestial army, to be a sword against the darkness that threatened the realms.

"Father!" Sariel cried out, his voice filled with reverence and remorse, "I apologize for ever questioning. I see now that our struggles are not in vain, and that every step we take in the name of righteousness serves a greater purpose in the cosmic order."

With a nod, Father seemed to understand the unspoken emotions in Sariel's heart. "Continue your noble endeavors, my archangel," Father said, "and trust in the significance of your actions. The legacy of your devotion shall forever shape the destiny of the realms."

Sariel stepped back, the doubts that had troubled him only moments ago now erased as if they had never existed. 

As the Heavenly Host began to disperse, Michael's gaze lingered on Sariel, frown deepening. With a final glance at Father's celestial throne, the Seraphim set forth, to lead his armies back into the abyss.

As he stared into the darkness, Diavolo's thoughts turned to the future. He considered the challenges that lay ahead. Rebuilding Devildom was a daunting task, but he refused to be deterred by adversity. He knew that if he persevered, he could one day realize his dream and bring about a better future for all who called the Devildom home. A vision that would bridge the gap between Devildom and other realms, fostering understanding and cooperation through cultural exchange. 

Perhaps, with a little luck, this would be the last war.

Barbatos arrived at Diavolo's side with a tray containing a teapot and two porcelain cups. The aroma of the tea told the prince that it was his favorite blend - bold and strong with a hint of sweetness that lingered on the palate like a fond memory. It was a closely guarded secret, known only to Barbatos, who had mastered the art of selecting and combining the finest ingredients from the depths of Devildom.

"Barbatos, you needn't go to all this trouble," Diavolo said with a grateful smile. "But I appreciate your company."

"Your well-being is my utmost concern, Young Master," Barbatos replied, calm as ever. "Please, allow me to serve you. It may lighten your dark mood."

Shaking his head slightly, Diavolo's smile turned sheepish. "I suppose I can't resist the temptation of your tea," he admitted. "You always seem to know exactly what I need."

Barbatos poured the tea into the cups. As he handed a cup to the prince, he said, "If a simple cup of tea can give you even a moment's respite, then I consider it a small but worthy effort."

He took the cup from the butler and settled back in his seat, savoring the tea for a long moment. The soothing flavors of the blend danced on his taste buds, and he closed his eyes briefly, reveling in the momentary peace it brought him.

"You have a talent for making even the simplest things feel like a gift," Diavolo remarked, his voice appreciative.

The butler tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Glad to be of service, Young Master.”

"Yes, I know," Diavolo began hesitantly, "But I can't help but wonder if you find true joy in serving me, given the circumstances that brought you here."

Barbatos' eyes met Diavolo's, evenly. "I serve you willingly," he said calmly but firmly. "While it is true that our paths intertwined through unforeseen events, the choice was my own."

The prince took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "Barbatos, do you have any ambitions or dreams of your own that you wish to pursue?" he asked. "I can't help but wonder if it's wrong of me to keep you by my side, depriving you of opportunities or desires you might have."

The butler considered the question, his expression thoughtful. "In the past, I did have personal ambitions of my own,” he admitted. “But I soon learned that they were driven by selfish desires. That path proved to be misguided and brought unintended consequences."

Diavolo couldn't suppress his curiosity, and he leaned in closer. "What were these aspirations you once had?”

Barbatos remained composed, a smile still in place. "Young Master, I hope you understand that some aspects of my past are not something I wish to dwell on or share in detail," he replied politely. "Suffice it to say, I abandoned those goals."

While a tinge of disappointment flickered in his eyes, Diavolo understood that certain memories were best left untouched. "I appreciate your honesty, Barbatos," he replied. "You've shown unwavering loyalty and dedication to the Devildom, and that's what truly matters."

The butler’s smile grew a little warmer. "Indeed," he agreed, nodding. "The Devildom's well-being is my priority, and I am committed to serving you and supporting your vision for the realm."

Diavolo paused for a moment before speaking again. "I want you to know, Barbatos, that you are always welcome to pursue new dreams, should they arise," he said, a glimmer of nervousness in his golden eyes. "If there's anything you desire beyond your duties as a butler, I am more than willing to support you in your endeavors."

The butler offered another reassuring smile. "I understand your worries, Young Master," Barbatos began, his voice gentle yet firm, "But I want you to know that my place is here, serving you and supporting the Devildom. I've seen a thousand futures, and the only ones I'm content in are with you."

He gently set his teacup down on the saucer, his gaze locking with the prince’s. His verdant eyes, usually calm and composed, now shone with a sincerity that was rare and unmistakable.

"So, please,” he continued, his voice resolute, “do me the honor of allowing this reality to be one of them."

The prince was taken aback by his butler’s words, feeling a conflicting mix of emotions washing over him. Ultimately, hearing those words reassured him in ways he couldn't explain.

"I... I don't know what to say," Diavolo admitted. "Thank you, Barbatos. Knowing that means more to me than words can express."

Barbatos inclined his head, his expression serene. "You are not just ‘Young Master,’ but a friend to me as well," he replied, his voice carrying even more warmth.