"Go! I'll hold them!" Cassiathon yelled, drawing her sword, hellfire igniting along its blade for the first time in their partnership—a sign of her true power, and her desperation.
"We're not leaving you!" Raguel argued, firing at the descending assassins.
"The data is the mission! Get it to the one person Razamon can't ignore!" she roared, charging the nearest group.
Lilithiel understood. She grabbed Raguel's arm, her eyes full of agonized resolve. "She's right. We have to go. Now!"
They fled through a back service corridor as the sounds of clashing steel and Cassiathon's furious cries echoed behind them. The image of her, a solitary figure wreathed in infernal flames against a tide of pale assassins, burned itself into their minds.
They escaped into the sewer system, Raguel clutching the extracted data-core—a crystalline shard—to his chest. He was breathing hard, not from exertion, but from fury and guilt.
"We left her."
"She gave us a chance,"Lilithiel said, her voice trembling. "We must use it. We go to Seraphiel Bloodthorn."
It was the only move left. Turning themselves over to the other devil in the game. The enemy of their jailer. A gamble with their already-forfeit souls as the stake.
As they navigated the tunnels, Lilithiel sent a silent, hopeless prayer—not to the Heaven that cast her out, but to any power that might listen—for the stubborn, fiery noble they'd left behind.