Samael sauntered through the palace hallway with Lilou in his arms. He didn't bat an eye at the mess in his surrounding, walking over at the scattered corpses on the floor.
Some fighting from a distance reached his ear, but he didn't care about that. It was simply the last cry and struggle of their enemy.
The outcome had already been decided.
Samael and Lilou won this fight.
The irony, though. He didn't feel like there was something to celebrate about. He had killed his brother and now his wife was in a terrible state. Although they had expected the worst, his heart wasn't as prepared as he thought it should be.
After a long walk, Samael finally reached a quiet place. He gazed at the large old door, which no one bothered to check until now.
"Mother," he whispered as his eyes softened. "My wife needs a room. Can I borrow yours?"