Family Support

You awoke with a jolt, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as if you had been drowning and finally broke through the surface. A cold sweat clung to your skin, your breathing ragged and uneven. The sensation of falling still clung to you, that stomach-lurching terror of plummeting into the abyss, only to awaken at the last second.

But this wasn't just a dream—it felt too real. The weight of it pressed down on your chest, lingering far longer than any nightmare. No, this was something else. A memory. One that didn’t belong to this life. The realization made your pulse hammer in your ears. Had completing your transformation into a devil unlocked something buried deep within Asmodeus’ past?

Your abrupt awakening stirred the slumbering figures around the living area. One by one, their eyes fluttered open, concern etched onto their drowsy faces as they processed what had happened.

Lisbeth was the first to react, her muscular frame moving with a surprising gentleness as she approached. Even half-awake, the tan-skinned minotaur woman exuded warmth and strength. She settled beside you, her large, calloused hand rubbing slow, reassuring circles along your back just below your wings.

“Baby, are you okay?” Her voice, still heavy with sleep, carried genuine concern. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Embarrassment prickled at your skin. You hated worrying them, especially over something you were still trying to piece together yourself. Rubbing at your eyes, you took a steadying breath before speaking. “Y-yeah. I’m okay. I think… I think I experienced a memory. A really old one.”

That caught their attention.

Morgana straightened from where she had been lounging, her normally regal and fluid form stiffening in alarm. The slime queen, composed of elegant hues of pink and violet, tilted her head, tendrils of her hair rippling with unspoken tension.

“Was it about Stephanie?” she asked, her voice as poised as ever, but edged with concern.

Hearing that name made your stomach twist, but you quickly shook your head, pushing away the lingering ghosts of your past marriage. That chapter of your life was over. You had moved on. This wasn’t about her.

“No. Nothing like that.” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I think it was one of Asmodeus’ memories… I mean, the previous Asmodeus. I saw something that happened between him and Mammon.”

A hush fell over the room.

Morgana’s expression darkened, her form rippling in agitation. A storm of emotions flashed through her usually composed features—shock, sorrow, and then simmering anger.

“What happened?” Her voice was quiet, but there was an underlying steel to it.

Before you could answer, Cerena wordlessly pressed a glass of water into your hands. The hellhound girl rarely showed outward softness, but her clawed fingers lingered for a beat too long against yours—a silent gesture of support. Her smoldering amber eyes, framed by a wild mane of black hair, studied you with barely concealed worry.

You took a grateful sip, savoring the coolness as it soothed your parched throat. Then, turning back to Morgana, you braced yourself.

“In the dream… Mammon tried to get Asmodeus to escape through the portal with her. He refused, so she pushed him through it.”

Morgana’s entire form went still, an eerie silence settling over her as the weight of your words sank in.

“There’s more.” Your throat tightened, but you **** yourself to continue. “Asmodeus wasn’t running. He was going to go first so his followers could escape. But after speaking with Mammon, he decided he couldn’t leave you behind. He was coming back for you.”

Morgana’s form quivered. You could see the struggle within her—hope battling with heartbreak.

“But Mammon betrayed him out of jealousy. She **** him through the portal before he could return for you.”

The air in the room grew heavy, the silence stretching between you all. Morgana’s normally fluid form wavered, her features twisting into something raw and unguarded. It was a look of utter devastation, the kind that only came from losing something irreplaceable. Her body lost some of its cohesion, trembling like water disturbed by an unseen ****.

You didn’t think. You simply acted.

You pulled her into your arms, holding her against your chest as if sheer **** alone could keep her from unraveling.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

Lisbeth was next, her strong arms encircling both of you as she pressed her forehead against Morgana’s. The minotaur’s warmth was a grounding presence, and when you glanced up, you saw the wet sheen of tears clinging to her long lashes. A single tear rolled down her freckled cheek before she sniffed and tightened her embrace.

One by one, the others joined in. Kiri, usually reserved and sharp in her mannerisms, hesitated before silently placing a delicate clawed hand on Morgana’s back, her emerald-green chitin catching the dim light. Even Lexi, ever the self-indulgent devil, wrapped her small arms around the group, her forked tail flicking anxiously behind her. She didn’t say anything—just pressed her forehead lightly against your shoulder.

Cerena sighed, grumbling something about ‘damn sentimentality’ before plopping herself down beside you all, her tail curling around the group as she leaned in. Despite her usual gruff demeanor, her presence was solid and reassuring.

You exhaled a shaky breath.

This wasn’t just grief. This was love—raw, unfiltered, and unwavering. A tangled mess of sorrow, comfort, and understanding.

Instinctively, your wings unfurled, wrapping around them as much as you could. The gesture was protective, instinctual, meant to shield this moment, this family, from anything that would dare disturb it.

You weren’t alone. None of you were.