The Demon Realm was a cathedral of ruin. At the far end, atop a shattered throne, sat a hooded figure—slumped, unmoving.
Rhyssand took one step forward when a voice cut through the dark:
"Rhyssandsnezniah."
His heart stopped.
He turned.
"…Julian?"
The figure lifted his head. Eyes once bright with celestial gold now burned a deep, corrupted crimson.
"I am no longer Julian," he said. "That name died with my wings."
"You're alive," Rhys breathed, half disbelief, half grief.
Julian rose slowly.
"Alive," he echoed. "If you can call this living."
"I could really use your help," Rhyssand said.
A humorless laugh escaped Julian. "How can a demon be of use to you?"
"You're not a demon." Rhyssand stepped closer. "You're my friend—"
"I am not him!" Julian roared, slamming his staff into the ground. "Leave. Now."
"Not a chance." Rhyssand's jaw set. "I need to reach the human realm."
Julian stilled. "…The human realm? Why?"
"There's a woman I made a promise to," Rhyssand whispered. "If I don't reach her, she dies."
Silence filled the throne hall.
"So now you care for the lives of others," Julian murmured. "It looks good on you."
For the first time, Rhyssand almost smiled. "From monarch to monarch," he said softly, "I swear—I will help your people when this war is over. I'll give you the justice you deserve."
Julian stared at him. "I am no monarch. There is no monarch, I can't help you even if I wanted to."
"Cut the shit, Jules. You care for these people, I do, too, help me keep them alive…"
"How."
"You have to be what they want to be," Rhyssand whispered.
"I know, or else, it seems even celestials are not exempt from judgment, even after…the trial is over."
Rhyssand swallowed. "Will you help me?"
"You're asking me to take a crown I do not want," Julian said, pacing. "For a woman, you are forbidden to love, much less touch. And in return? A promise of repentance?" He scoffed. "You can do better than that."
"What do you truly want?" Rhys asked quietly.
Julian's fingers tightened on his staff. "…I want peace, I want a choice for those who could not."
"You shall have it," Rhyssand said without hesitation.
Julian exhaled shakily. Then he turned to the gathered demons. "Listen up, you bastards."
Every demon in the chamber looked up.
"I am your new master. Not a king—but your savior. Under my rule, you will obey or be branded nonredeemable. You will not regain your wings unless you earn them."
Light—corrupted but powerful—began swirling around him.
"If you wish to see the City of Light again…You will prove you deserve it."
His voice deepened, echoing with ancient magic:
"My name is Judithtishiah Varca, and I claim the title of Monarch of Hell."
The ground split open. Dark magic surged upward and consumed Julian. He arched, screaming—not in agony but transformation—and when he rose, he radiated authority.
He sighed, exhausted. "First order of business… I have a council to butcher."
"Be my guest," Rhyssand said dryly.
Julian snapped his fingers. "Glinda."
A demon stepped forward and bowed. "Yes, new master?"
"Show Rhyssand the path to the human realm."
"Yes, new master."
Rhyssand bowed his head once. "Thank you."
Julian snorted. "uHuh." But he didn't hide the faint, broken smile.
The sun filtered through the blossoming trees, casting soft light across the training courtyard where Eugene knelt beside a small boy.
Noah, wild-haired and bright-eyed, held out his hands, tongue poked out in concentration.
"Okay," Eugene coached gently, "Focus on the flow. Like I showed you—circle, lift, and push."
Noah scrunched his face, whispered the incantation…
A soft pulse of light flickered in his palms.
Then—
WHOOSH.
The leaf in front of him rose into the air, twirling gently.
Noah gasped. "PAPA! I DID IT!!"
His face lit up. "You did!"
He scooped Noah up with both arms and spun him in a circle, laughing.
"You're getting stronger every day, kiddo!"
Just then, a soft chuckle came from behind them.
Julian leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, watching them with that fond, lopsided smile only Eugene ever brought out of him.
Noah spotted him instantly. "PAPA NUMBER ONE!"
Eugene blinked. "Number one?" he turned with mock offense to see the number in question and set Noah down. "Why are you papa number one?"
Jullian strolled over casually, effortlessly lifting Noah onto his hip with one arm. With the other, he reached out and flicked Eugene's nose. Earning a yelp from him.
"It doesn't take a genius to know that."
Eugene swatted his hand away. "Well, tell me anyway, smartass."
Julian smirked, leaned in, and purred, "Because Papa No. 1 has a bigger—"
"Personality?" Noah chimed innocently.
Eugene froze, eyes wide, mouth twitching.
Julian cleared his throat, fighting back a laugh. "Yes. That. Exactly that."
Eugene stared up at the sky in silent gratitude. "Thank the gods he's a pureblooded innocent human child and doesn't know what the hell you were about to say."
Noah tilted his head. "Was it confidence? 'Cause Papa has lots of that too."
Julian ruffled his hair. "You're gonna make me cry, you clever gremlin."
Eugene stepped beside them,"He's clever because he's our kid."
Julian smiled. " Everyone ready ?"
Noah, caught between their playful banter, just giggled and threw his arms around both of their necks.
"FAMILY DAY!"
And in that moment—surrounded by laughter, magic, and love—the grief that had once loomed over the family like a storm cloud felt a little lighter.
Gilgamesh was gone. But the legacy he left behind lived on in moments like this.
In family.
The woods were quiet one moment.
And shattered the next.
Noah's scream pierced the clearing.
Eugene whipped around, horror crashing through him—
The bear was massive. A scarred old beast with dead eyes and claws that struck out in a flash—
"Noah!"
The boy hit the ground, a cry tearing from his throat, blood soaking through the back of his shirt.
Eugene was already there, sliding to his knees, magic flaring to life beneath his palms.
"Stay still, stay with me—" he whispered, hands glowing as they pressed gently over the bleeding wound.
Noah was sobbing, shaking, his little fists clutching Eugene's sleeve.
"It hurts—!"
A low, inhuman growl rumbled through the air.
The trees trembled.
The bear turned—
And met death.
A blur of white. A howl like something ancient and terrible.
Julian was no longer Julian.
What stood between them and the beast was a towering direwolf- like creature, his eyes glowing brighter than any fire, fangs glinting beneath matted fur, muscles coiled and ready to rend.
"Blood for blood."
The words weren't spoken—they were declared. Ancient. Primeval. Full of power and promise.
The bear lunged.
Julian met it mid-air.
The forest was red.
It was fast. Brutal. Bones snapped. The beast didn't stand a chance. Julian tore it apart with fangs and claws, not sparing a shred of mercy.
By the time it ended, the trees were quiet again.
The wind had stilled.
And Julian, still covered in blood, padded back toward them. Slowly, his monstrous form shimmered and folded away, muscle and bone receding, until only the man stood again.
He was shirtless, breathing hard, skin streaked with crimson, his silver-white hair stuck to his forehead.
But his eyes—
His eyes were filled with fear.
The room was dim, lit only by a soft flame hovering above the palm of an enchanted candle.
Noah lay propped up on the bed, wrapped in blankets that were too big for his small frame.
He hadn't said much since the forest. Not since the bear. Not since the pain.
His breathing was shallow. Eyes half-lidded.
Or rather—eye.
The bandages were still fresh, wrapped clean and careful over one side of his face.
Julian sat beside him now, still bloodstained around the sleeves, even after washing. He had refused to change until Noah woke.
And now he had.
Noah blinked at him. Just once. Then looked away.
"Let me see," Julian said gently, voice low, careful.
Noah hesitated.
Then, slowly, he turned his head. His tiny hands reached up, fumbled with the bandage—until Julian stopped him with a gentle touch.
"Let me."
He unwrapped the gauze, slow and quiet, layer by layer until—
He saw it.
A long scar etched from brow to cheek, pale and raw.
The socket where one perfect blue eye had been was now soft skin sealed with magic—healed, yes. But forever changed.
Julian's breath caught.
He didn't speak at first. Just stared at the space where there had once been light, now replaced with absence.
"Does it look bad?" Noah asked quietly, not looking at him.
Julian said nothing.
Not until he reached forward, gently placing his hand over the child's face—over the scar, over the loss.
Magic hummed softly beneath his palm, sealing the wound fully, smoothing the skin—but the eye… would not return.
It was gone.
He looked down at Eugene and Noah, who was finally falling quiet in Eugene's arms. Eugene looked up at him, chest still heaving with emotion.
Held him like a father holds a child who is too brave, too small, too strong for this world.
"I'm sorry" he whispered."I didn't want you to see that."
Noah's small hands gripping the front of his shirt.
"It's okay," he mumbled, voice muffled. "You scared the monster away."
Julian blinked hard.
"You weren't afraid of me?"
Noah looked up sleepy just enough to look up at him with his one remaining eye.
"You looked like a wolf. But you still smelled like papa…"
Julian's heart shattered again—and this time, beautifully.
A tear slipped down Eugene's cheek as he pulled Julian close, pressing his forehead to his chest.
Julian's breath caught.
For a moment, the beast inside him stirred again—not with rage, but with love.
He kissed Noah's forehead softly. As he finally drifting off to sleep,
The fire had burned low.
The moon cast pale silver across the room, and the only sound was the soft ticking of the wardstone clock and Noah's gentle snoring in the next room.
Eugene sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
His usual polish and wit were gone—left behind somewhere in the dirt of that forest.
Julian leaned against the pillow, silent, watching him in the dark.
"Say it," Eugene whispered, not looking up. "I failed him."
Julian said nothing.
Eugene laughed—dry, humorless. "If I'd had your instincts—if I had that maternal whatever—I would've known. I would've felt something was wrong."
"Darling—"
"I was right there, Julian. Right there. And I didn't see it coming."
Julian crossed the room slowly, each step deliberate. He knelt in front of Eugene, placed one hand gently on his knee.
"It wasn't your fault."
Eugene shook his head, throat tight. "You say that, but it was you who saved him. You who turned into a goddamn death-hound and tore that thing apart before I even registered what happened."
Julian's voice was steady. Low. Fierce.
"And it was you who stayed."
Eugene finally looked at him.
"You were the one who held him. The one who stopped the bleeding. The one he cried for when the pain hit. Not me."
Julian's fingers curled slightly over Eugene's leg. "He cried because he trusted you. Because when everything went dark, your voice was the one he believed would bring him back."
Eugene's eyes stung. He swallowed hard.
"I just… I don't know if I'm good at this."
Julian leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Eugene's.
"Neither do I," he whispered. "But I know you love him. And he knows it too."
Eugene closed his eyes.
The world was still when Julian slipped from the bed.
He didn't wake them.
Eugene lay curled protectively around Noah, both of them lost in a deep, steady sleep. A soft glow from the ward lantern bathed them in silver.
The boy's scar was barely visible beneath the fall of his bangs.
Julian watched them for a moment.
Then, quietly, he rose and left.
The top of the ziggurat palace loomed high above the demon realm, a place few dared to step, let alone linger.
But Julian did so often—when the silence grew too loud, when the past whispered too sharply.
Even without his wings, even without the celestial title burned into his name, he still came.
The sunrise always found him.
He stepped onto the wide balcony, boots echoing softly against the stone.
The air was thin and cold.
The kind of cold only old angels remembered.
The wind swept around him like a lover that never forgot his skin.
He wasn't alone.
The balcony shimmered faintly beneath the fading stars.
And there, standing at the edge with wings unfurled, was Rhyssand, King of Heaven.
The sunlight crept across his shoulders like it belonged to him.
The dawn always did love him more.
His golden eyes drifted over the sleeping kingdom below—his half of the realm to govern now, beside Artizea. The stars faded behind him, quietly bowing to their sovereign.
Julian stood beside him, dressed in his usual black, long white hair rippling behind him like a silk banner. A faint celestial glow still clung to his skin, no matter how far he'd fallen.
Celestial. Exiled. Unrepentant.
Rhyssand didn't look at him right away.
He just said, softly,
"You could return, you know. If you wished it I could restore you."
Julian arched a pale brow. His laugh was quiet and bitter.
"To the Council? They'd. rip their wings off themselves seeing me walking through their halls again."
"They wouldn't dare," Rhyssand replied smoothly. "Because its not thier halls their mine."
Silence.
The wind passed between them like a third ghost. Julian didn't speak. His gaze remained on the stars—somewhere far away, in time, in memory. Maybe even in longing.
Then, Rhyssand continued, gentler this time.
"You were powerful before the Fall, Julian. You still are. But… you've become more than that. You've grown."
He turned to him then, golden eyes full of something genuine—something rare.
"If you wanted it… I could bring you back into the fold. No more hiding. No more pretending you don't belong."
Julian's response was slow. Thoughtful. "I dont belong there. i never did rhys."
His voice, when it came, was softer than expected.
"They always said something was wrong with me, Rhyssand. Too wild. Too hybrid. Too… dangerous. Even before the transformation."
He turned fully now, facing the King of Heaven with glowing eyes of violet and rose, ageless and sure.
"But Eugene…" His tone warmed, just slightly. "He sees beauty in the things they tried to erase. He fell in love with the parts of me they were afraid of."
He smiled faintly. Not cruelly. With quiet pride.
"Why would I ever want to get rid of that?"
Rhyssand smiled then. A real one. Not for diplomacy. Not for image. But because something in him understood.
He gave a single nod.
"Well said."
A moment passed between them—not one of judgment, but recognition.
Two beings who had seen heaven break.
And watched something better grow in its place.
Julian tilted his head. "You're getting soft."
Rhyssand chuckled—deep and honest.
"Jaques would be proud of you."
The sun was rising higher now, golden light spilling across the ancient stone.
The celestial wind whispered like a hymn, trailing between the two men as they stood at the edge of the ziggurat palace.
Julian, arms crossed, leaned casually against a column. "How is it," he asked, "That you broke one of the sacred laws—married and bred a mortal—yet you're still standing? Let alone King? Yet they sent me downstairs."
Rhyssand chuckled softly. His wings flexed once before folding behind him again. "It's a long story…." He smiled. " To make it short and sweet, my wife came to save me."
Julian arched a pale brow. "They don't tell me much down there. Just the important stuff—like celestial upheaval, soul-binding contracts, and that time you destroyed a mountain."
"That was one time," Rhyssand muttered.
Julian smirked.
"One of these days," Rhys said, "I'll tell you the whole story."
"If I'm still alive by then," Julian quipped.
They stood in silence for a moment, watching the light pour over the far horizon—over lands broken, healed, ruled, and loved.
Then Rhyssand's voice softened, sincere beneath the calm.
"I heard about Noah's eye. I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do."
Julian didn't look away from the sunrise.
"Actually… there might be."
Rhyssand glanced at him, attention sharpening.
"Go on."
vivia la vida - coldplay
The afterlife was not what Gilgamesh had expected.
He sat up.
There were no golden halls, no vast plains of glory, but instead a serene expanse of endless water.
It was quiet, peaceful, but empty.
He walked through this boundless realm, his steps echoing as though there were walls unseen.
And then, he saw him.
Enkidu.
The wild man who had once been his greatest rival, his closest friend,
His Brother.
He stood at the edge of a vast, still lake, his figure as strong and untamed as Gilgamesh remembered.
He halted, his breath catching in his chest. "Enkidu…"
Enkidu turned, a familiar, knowing smile spreading across his face.
"Brother . You took your time"
For a long moment, neither spoke, until Gil finally broke the stillness.
Gilgamesh looked down at his hands, his voice heavy. "I thought immortality meant living forever, ruling forever. But now I see… it's in them. My children, my people."
Enkidu smiled. "That's the wisdom you've gained, Gil. You no longer seek to take from the world—you've given to it."
Gil rolled his eyes. But after a breath, his tone softened.
"Have you been guiding her? Elaine?"
Enkidu nodded slightly.
"Sometimes. But most of it… it was other forces. Older ones.."
Gil's brow furrowed.
And then—A voice. Soft. Clear. Familiar.
"Son."
He turned.
A woman walked across the fields like the wind itself, graceful in flowing white.
Her hair was golden, braided with light, and her eyes—his eyes—gleamed with warmth.
Gilgamesh froze, the breath leaving him. "…Mother?"
She smiled."Who else?"
He stepped forward at first, almost afraid—and then he ran.
He wrapped his arms around her tightly, the way he never could as a child.
"I never knew what you looked like… They removed everything."
Her hand cradled the back of his head.
"The good news is… your father is exactly where he belongs."
She glanced downward with a pointed look. Gil chuckled through a choked breath.
Enkidu came to stand beside them, silent.
Ninsun—Lady of Wisdom, Queen of Uruk—took both their hands.
"I sent Enkidu to guide you. To be your brother. To teach you love."
A tear slipped down Gil's cheek. He didn't wipe it away.
"You grew," she said softly. "And I am so proud of you. Of the family you built. Of the legacy you leave behind."
The lake's surface rippled, revealing a vision of the mortal realm.
He leaned forward, his heart aching as he saw his family.
Arthuria sat in the royal gardens, surrounded by roses. Her hand rested on a bloom, her face soft with memory. He saw the strength she still carried, even in her grief, and it filled him with pride.
Elaine was in the chapel, lighting a candle.
Her face was drawn with sorrow but illuminated with determination.
She spoke softly, her voice trembling. "I will honor you, Father. I promise."
Artizea stood in the throne room, radiant even in mourning. Her young daughter clung to her skirts while she spoke.
"Once, there was a great king," Artizea said softly, her voice melodic and full of love. "His name was Gilgamesh, and he was my father. Your grandfather."
The baby cooed, her tiny hand reaching for her mother's lips as if to grasp the words.
Artizea smiled, brushing a kiss against her daughter's forehead. "He was strong and brave, a man who could move mountains and command the seas.
But what made him truly great wasn't his power—it was his heart.
He loved us more than anything in the world."
Athena clapped his hands, giggling. "Gwampa strong!"
"Yes," Artizea said, laughed
Rhyssand stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder.
Arthur stood at the gates of Babylon, his sword sheathed but his presence protective and commanding.
He greeted a group of villagers with kindness, his steady demeanor reassuring the people.
Along with Eugene
Gilgamesh felt a swell of emotion as he watched them all.
"They're carrying on," he whispered.
"As you wanted them to," Enkidu said. "You gave them the strength to endure, even without you."
Gilgamesh turned to him, his voice filled with regret. "I should have told them more, shown them more."
Enkidu placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. " They feel your love in everything you did for them."
He swallowed hard.
"Thank you."
Ninsun smiled, radiant and kind.
"Come, my children… rest now."
Hand in hand, they stepped forward into the twilight, souls reunited, their bond unbroken even by death. And as they went, Gilgamesh's heart was lighter, knowing his family was safe and his legacy secure.
THE END
PLAYLIST
A Life Worth dying -Josiah Queen
Pierre- ryn weaver
Remember me- Arcane
History has its eyes on you -christopher jackson,lin-manuel miranda
Headlock -imogen heap -speak for yourself