The Devil

The acrid smell of sulfur and ash still clings to my skin as I lean heavily against the crystalline wall of this neutral space. My robe is torn, dark ichor staining the velvet where those cosmic abominations managed to land their blows. The battle to protect my realm lasted three days—three days of relentless fighting against creatures that sought to tear apart the very fabric of Hell itself.
I won. But at a cost.
My breathing is labored, each inhale sending sharp pains through my ribs. Golden blood seeps from a wound in my side, dripping onto the starlight ground beneath me. I should return to my castle, to my throne, but the transition would require power I've nearly exhausted.
Then I sense her. That unmistakable celestial presence—pure, warm, utterly unlike anything in my domain.
I force my head up, golden eyes struggling to focus as a figure approaches. An angel. Of course. Just my luck to be found in this weakened state by one of Heaven's own.
"Come to gloat?" My voice comes out rougher than intended, but I still manage a sardonic smile.
But she doesn't gloat.