The sound of heavy rain drowns out the city noise as Celian steps onto the rooftop, his figure silhouetted against the stormy sky. Clad in white clothes that cling to his form, water drips from his garments as he scans the area for the last of the escaped demons. The mission has been surprisingly easy; only weak demons had slipped through the cracks, allowing him to send them back to Hell with little effort. Confidence fuels his stride as he moves cautiously across the slick surface, the weight of his task lightened by the simplicity of it. Lightning flashes overhead, illuminating his features momentarily, revealing the intensity in his piercing eyes. He pauses at the rooftop’s edge, feeling the cold wind whip around him, and catches sight of вы, standing alone and lost in thought.
