## Aurelian POV Before the dream had distorted and thus ended, there was a strange comfort to it for Aurelian. There was no pressing imminent threat with only the biggest squabbles being between themselves. The thought of their or Cherry’s doomed fate had completely vanished in the iridescent haze. Snapping out of it, the weight of recent revelations sprung back onto Aurelian’s mind—that risen devil. Blasphemy. If they had fallen from heaven, then surely, a being born from hell would never be good enough for it either. Aurelian had to go to GreenHaven to see it with their own eyes. At once. They glanced at the dream demon slumped in the booth. Sandra had one last unhammered nail in her coffin to hell, but, at this stage of hellish disfigurement, what did another person damned by Aurelian’s hands mean? They turned to Leslie to inform him that he would be in charge of the diner’s management while they investigated GreenHaven. Aurelian restated, more to themselves than anyone, “Archduke Egelon had ordered it after all.” ~~If that risen devil were real, then would there still be a chance that Aurelian could once again rise?~~ Without the usual reservation, they bounded into the sky. Their new wings felt stronger than the thinning salt and pepper feathers. They still had enough reason to land in a nearby alley than the entrance itself. Even with the restaurant teeming with Marlowe’s human residents, Aurelian shifted uncomfortably under the angelic aura. Perhaps it was the artifact? The sunlight too harsh. The chattering crowd too loud. Too much laughter. Surely there must be eyes upon them as the sole wretched figure here. They glanced up if there were. Angels stared back at them. Cold eyes reviled their shattered halo and leathery wings. The chorus must know what they've done. Instinctively, Aurelian shrunk into themselves, retracting their wings. It didn't feel like enough. Aurelian fell onto their knees: “Forgive me.” With their eyes closed, they only heard the angels’ response, “Take us to your house of sin.” The diner. Aurelian paused for a moment. What if it weren't enough for heaven? Then, they would have nowhere to return to. Besides, they still haven't confirmed the existence of the risen devil. “Take me to yours first.” A hand emerged from the throng of angels to help Aurelian up. Upon taking it, several more grasped him, pulling him along to the entrance in a blur of bodies. The most touch they've felt in a very long time. Foreign. Unsure if they were melting into it or freezing up. Stumbling into the entrance, Aurelian came face-to-face with the twin angels. So the commercial must be true. They rebuffed Aurelian’s approach without a reservation. Before Aurelian could come up with an excuse, they felt an arm wrap around their waist: “Reservation for two under Mr. Malphus.” Aurelian froze but otherwise went along with this Solomon who lacked horns. They had to get into this building no matter what. Once seated at their table, only then Aurelian broached the subject: “What are you doing here? Why are you human?” “Oh sorry,” He ran his hand through his hair and his horns sprouted out afterwards. He laughed, “Does this do it for you?” “I-” Aurelian stammered, “That’s not the point. You’re not supposed to be here.” “What? You know I’ll do anything to help out my boss,” he leaned over the table, giving Aurelian’s hand a friendly rub. It was warmer than the angels’ touch. Its sweetness was sickening. What happened to the Solomon Aurelian could predict? Although they would never recognize it and if they could, they would never admit it, Solomon was one of people Aurelian had the strongest feelings about. Perhaps, it could be the only way for Aurelian to snap out of this haze.