Chapter Text
The night air was deathly still, the eerie silence only broken by the distant crackling of ice as it encased Stolas’s mansion. Blitzø stood at the front gates, gripping the enchanted sword tightly. His breath came in frosty puffs, a stark contrast to the infernal heat he was used to. The sword’s blade glowed faintly, casting a soft light on the ground beneath him.
Blitzø’s mind raced as he surveyed the frozen battlefield. He had been fighting Andrealphus for what felt like hours, and the mansion was almost entirely covered in ice. Stolas, who had been lured into a trap upon hearing that Octavia was in danger, found himself depowered on the ground, not far from Blitzø.
Andrealphus circled Blitzø, his eyes cold and calculating. “You’re out of your league, imp,” he sneered, conjuring shards of ice in his hands. Each one glinted menacingly in the moonlight, promising pain and death.
Blitzø tightened his grip on the sword, feeling its magic thrumming through his veins. “I’ve faced worse than you, bitch!” he retorted, though the tremble in his voice betrayed his fear.
Andrealphus’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Let’s see how long you can last.” With a flick of his wrist, he sent a barrage of ice spikes hurtling towards Blitzø.
Blitzø dodged and deflected as best he could, the enchanted sword slicing through the air with a whistle. Each movement sent jolts of pain through his muscles, already fatigued from the intense cold. A spike grazed his arm, drawing a line of blood, but he pressed on, his eyes locked on Andrealphus.
The icy spikes crashed around him, splintering against the ground and walls, leaving a trail of frost wherever they touched. Blitzø's heart pounded in his chest as he pressed forward, each step a battle against the biting cold and his own exhaustion. The air was thick with the tension of impending death.
Suddenly, Andrealphus conjured a massive spear of ice and hurled it directly at Stolas. Without a second thought, Blitzø sprang into action. "f*ck!" he shouted, throwing himself in the spear's path and deflecting it with the enchanted sword. The impact sent him staggering back, pain radiating through his body.
Stolas, who had been frozen in fear, watched in horror as Blitzø saved him. Blitzø turned, grabbing Stolas by the shoulders. “Get the f*ck back!” he ordered, pushing Stolas away with all his remaining strength. The prince stumbled backward, landing hard on the icy ground, but out of immediate danger.
Blitzø turned back to face Andrealphus, his resolve hardening. He could see Loona, Moxxie, and Millie trapped behind a wall of ice, their expressions a mix of fear and helplessness. They pounded against the ice, their cries muffled but desperate.
“Blitzø!” Moxxie yelled, his voice barely audible. “Don’t do this!”
Blitzø’s eyes flicked to his friends, their faces etched with worry and fear. Millie stood poised, her fists clenched and eyes blazing with determination. Moxxie, though shaking, had his weapon ready, prepared to fight despite the odds. Loona, usually aloof, looked anxious, her ears flattened against her head. Blitzø’s gaze returned to Andrealphus, a towering figure of ice and power.
“I have to,” Blitzø murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper. “I have to protect all of you... That’s the only thing I’m good for.” He felt a deep, painful resolve settle in his chest, knowing this might be his only chance to truly make a difference for those he loved.
With a deep breath, Blitzø gave a small, bittersweet smile, a flicker of determination in his eyes. He believed this would be his moment of redemption. His heart pounded in his chest as he gripped the sword tighter, his knuckles white from the pressure.
He launched himself at Andrealphus with a primal scream, pouring every ounce of his strength into the attack. The sword clashed violently against Andrealphus’s icy defenses, sending sparks of magic and shards of ice flying in all directions. The force of the collision reverberated through Blitzø’s body, but he pushed forward, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his arms.
Andrealphus responded with a blast of freezing wind, a brutal force that cut through Blitzø’s resolve like a knife. The icy gale seared his skin and numbed his limbs, but he pressed on, driven by a desperate need to protect his friends. He could feel the cold seeping into his bones, but he refused to yield.
The fight raged on, each clash of the sword against ice sending shockwaves through the ground. Blitzø’s movements became slower, his body gradually succumbing to the relentless cold that encased him. Andrealphus’s expression shifted from amusem*nt to frustration, a scowl forming on his otherwise calm features as Blitzø continued to defy him.
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” Andrealphus growled, his voice a low rumble. He summoned another wave of ice, his eyes narrowing in concentration. “But persistence won’t save you.” Blitzø raised the sword to block the attack, his arms trembling with the effort, but the force was too much. The wave of ice crashed into him, knocking the sword from his hands and sending him sprawling to the ground.
Blitzø lay there for a moment, the world spinning around him. Pain radiated through his body, but he forced himself to move, to fight. He tried to reach for his sword, but Andrealphus was faster. The demon conjured a sharp, deadly icicle and hurled it at Blitzø with precision.
The icicle pierced Blitzø’s abdomen with brutal force. He gasped, the pain blinding, and fell to his knees. Blood seeped from the wound, staining the icy ground beneath him a dark liquid. He clutched at the icicle, but it was embedded too deeply.
Stolas, who had managed to rise, let out a scream of pure horror. “No, no! Blitzø!” His voice was raw with anguish, his eyes wide with terror. He stumbled forward, but his legs gave out, and he fell to the ground, reaching out desperately.
Blitzø’s vision blurred, but he turned his head to look at Stolas. Tears streamed down Stolas’s face, his expression a mask of despair. Blitzø’s heart ached at the sight, a mixture of regret and longing flooding his senses. “Stolas... I do care about you,” Blitzø gasped, his voice weak and strained. “I’m sorry... for everything.”
Suddenly, amidst the chaos of their grief, a faint cracking sound echoed through the icy field. Moxxie, his hands trembling with adrenaline and desperation, had managed to find a weak spot in the wall of ice imprisoning them. With Millie’s help, they pried and chipped away at the frozen barrier, their muscles straining against the cold and the weight of impending loss.
Loona, her eyes red-rimmed but determined, joined them in their frantic efforts. Together, they pushed and pulled, their movements fueled by a desperate need to reach Blitzø before it was too late. Chunks of ice splintered and fell away, revealing a path toward their fallen comrade.
Finally, with one last mighty heave, Moxxie and Millie broke through. They stumbled forward, gasping for breath, their bodies numb with cold and exhaustion. Loona followed close behind, her heart pounding in her chest as she rushed to Blitzø’s side.
Blitzø lay there, his strength ebbing away with each passing moment. His gaze flickered weakly as he struggled to stay conscious. With a final, desperate effort, Blitzø turned his gaze to Loona, Moxxie, and Millie. They stood frozen, horror and sorrow etched into their faces. His eyes lingered on Loona, her usually defiant expression softened by tears.
“Loonie,” he rasped, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. She leaned closer, her ears perked in anticipation. “I'm sorry for leaving you,” he murmured, his words a fragile thread of regret. “But I know you’ll be okay on your own. You’re strong, independent, and determined.” A faint smile touched his lips. “I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become.”
Loona’s eyes widened, tears streaming down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, but one only word came out. "...Dad". She whispered through a sob.
Blitzø’s gaze shifted to Moxxie and Millie, his expression filled with love and gratitude. “You guys are incredible individually, but together... you're f*cking invincible. Take care of each other,” he whispered, his voice filled with finality. “I'm sorry for everything, I love you all.”
As the cold closed in around him, Blitzø felt a sense of peace wash over him. His friends’ faces blurred into the darkness, their grief and anguish fading into the background. With a last, ragged breath, he closed his eyes, a small, serene smile lingering on his lips. He only regrets not being able to say goodbye to Fizz, ask Barbie for forgiveness once again and thank Verosika for helping him face his problems.
As the cold closed in around him, Blitzø felt his life slipping away. His body grew heavy, and his vision darkened. The last thing he saw was Stolas’s anguished face, the image burning into his mind as he was swallowed by darkness. His thoughts drifted to the moments he had shared with his friends, the laughter, the fights, the love. He hoped they would forgive him, that they would find happiness and peace. Without him.
Stolas crawled to Blitzø’s side, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch him. “Blitzø, please... don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. He cradled Blitzø’s head in his lap, tears falling onto Blitzø’s still face. “I'm sorry! I need you...”
Blitzø’s body went limp, his last breath escaping in a shuddering sigh. The battlefield fell silent, the echoes of the fight fading away. Stolas’s cries of sorrow pierced the stillness, a heart-wrenching sound that reverberated through the icy landscape.
In the midst of Stolas’s grief, Andrealphus stepped forward with an air of arrogance, his form surrounded by swirling mist as he effortlessly melted some of the ice spikes encasing the palace walls and floor. His icy blue eyes glinted with mockery as he surveyed the scene before him, particularly focusing on Stolas’s anguish.
“Well, well,” Andrealphus sneered, his voice carrying across the frozen courtyard. “Look at you, mourning over a mere imp. I must say, Stolas, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you had it in you to care so deeply about a plaything.”
Stolas’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury and sorrow. “Blitzø was more than that to me,” he spat, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “And you will pay for what you’ve done.”
Andrealphus chuckled darkly, the mist swirling around him in mocking amusem*nt. “Oh, spare me your sentimentalities,” he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. “So weak of you to have these attachments. It’s laughable.”
Ignoring Andrealphus’s mockery, Stolas gently cradled Blitzø’s lifeless form, whispering words of lament and love amidst his tears.
In the eerie silence that followed, the air shimmered and a bright light appeared. Vassago appeared, passing through a portal. His benevolent yet stern presence commanded attention. “I have been sent to investigate the conflict between two Goetias,” he declared, his voice echoing through the frozen night. As he looks around the once Stolas palace, now a battlefield. His gaze falls on Blitzø's lifeless body surrounded by his friends and family.
Andrealphus’s face twisted in irritation. “This is none of your concern, Vassago.” The demon lord’s icy glare bore into Vassago, challenging his interference.
Vassago remained unruffled, his gaze unwavering. “An imp who could have been a key witness in the trial of your sister’s divorce has been killed,” he continued, his voice carrying a weight of authority. “Therefore, Andrealphus, you will be investigated for trying to disrupt the trial. By the decree of the Viceroy, both you and Stolas are hereby stripped of your powers and titles until the investigation is concluded.”
Andrealphus scoffed, but Vassago’s proclamation hung heavy in the air, its implications sinking in among the gathered demons. Stolas looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of grief and anger. “Where were you, Vassago?” he demanded, his voice laced with accusation. “You could have saved him!”
Vassago’s expression softened slightly, regret flickering in his eyes. “I arrived too late,” he admitted solemnly. “I am sorry for your loss, Stolas. His sacrifice will not be forgotten.”
"I will take the information to the Viceroy.” He turns his face to Stolas. “I am truly sorry Stolas." As Vassago’s words settled, the atmosphere shifted. Andrealphus retreats as quickly and unnoticed as possible. In that moment he realizes that Blitzø’s death will set in motion a chain of events that would ripple through Hell, reshaping alliances and testing loyalties.
Millie, Moxxie, Loona, and Stolas remained huddled together around Blitzø’s body, their grief palpable in the cold, still air. Millie’s voice broke the silence, filled with determination. “We will avenge him,” she vowed, her fists clenched. “Andrealphus and Stella will pay for what they’ve done.”
Loona, usually stoic, spoke next, her voice wavering slightly. “He always believed in us, no matter what”, she whispered, her eyes flickering with unshed tears.
Moxxie nodded solemnly, his eyes blazing with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. “Blitzø didn’t deserve this,” he muttered, his voice tight with emotion. “We’ll make them regret it.”
Stolas, his grief etched deep into every line of his face, clenched his fists. “I swear on Blitzø’s memory,” he declared, his voice a quiet, steely promise. “I will bring justice for him.”
Together, they stood united in their grief and their determination, a silent vow binding them to their quest for vengeance. As they looked upon Blitzø’s still form in Stolas's lap, a fierce determination burned within them—a resolve to honor his memory and to ensure that his death would not be forgotten in the Hell’s turbulent history.
Blitzø’s consciousness drifted in and out, the pain of his wounds mingling with the cold that seemed to envelop his very soul. He was vaguely aware of being lifted, of the voices of his friends and loved ones, but everything was slipping away into darkness.
And then, there was nothing. No pain, no cold, no fear. Just a vast, empty whiteness that stretched in every direction. Blitzø blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings. There were no walls, no sky, just an infinite expanse of pure white.
He stood up slowly, his body feeling strangely weightless. The wounds that had tormented him moments before were gone, and he felt an unfamiliar sense of peace. He took a few tentative steps, the white floor beneath him solid and smooth.
“Where am I?” he muttered to himself, his voice echoing in the emptiness.
Blitzø tried to call out again, but the vast emptiness seemed to swallow his words. He took another step forward, and then another, each one took him nowhere. There was an eerie calmness to the place, a stark contrast to the chaos and violence he had just endured. As he moved, he felt a sense of purpose welling up inside him, a determination to understand this new realm and what it meant for him.
