She closed her eyes, betraying no further emotion, but her tightly clenched fingers had long since given away what she felt inside.
Because she was the Angel King.
She was an Archangel.
She could not shed tears, because no matter when or where, she had to remain strong in the face of every setback and sorrow life brought her.
But why?
Why, after three thousand years, had she finally been allowed to see a loved one she knew, only for them to be torn apart again so soon?
"Sir Awen, let's begin."
She opened her eyes and drew a deep, forceful breath.
"You should know how to trigger Hell... take her there..."
"To where we are..."
Even she did not know how much strength it had taken to finally say those words.
But once she had said them.
It was as though she had aged countless years in an instant, her entire body threatening to collapse.
Because she knew.
Even if her Sister had a chance to regain her will, she would spend the rest of her life trapped in that cage, just like her, never able to return to this world.
Sir Awen nodded.
At last.
He stepped forward, surging psionics flickering in his eyes. Invisible waves instantly spread around the Seraphim as he used psionics to inscribe Hell's intricate patterns on the surrounding ground, little by little.
They enveloped the Seraphim like a withering flower bud.
He could see the grief in the Matriarch's heart.
But he could not comfort her, because they had all endured partings in life and death, the deaths of loved ones, and the sacrifices of friends.
Perhaps this was the fate of those who fell into Hell.
"Everyone, help me. My power alone can hardly make her aura trigger Hell. Please..."
He rose