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"Because I know you." Her voice was firm. Confident. "Even though I didn't raise you, even though years and centuries have passed between our meetings, I know my son." Her eyes softened. "I saw it the first time you came to find me, when you were barely more than a boy by immortal standards. Rowen may have raised you as a demon, but you've always carried my light."

Her words stirred something in me, something I'd buried deep. The part of me that had always felt out of place among the denizens of hell, the part that had driven me to seek out the mother I'd never known despite demonic traditions that said I should forget her existence entirely.

"Will you help me?" I asked, hating how vulnerable the question made me feel. "I don't think I can do this alone."

"Of course I will." She squeezed my hand, then released it to turn back to the book. "We'll need certain ingredients, and you'll need to practice channeling your light in ways you haven't before."

As she began listing what we would need, I found my gaze drawn to her wings. The gray feathers that had once been thepurest white. A visible reminder of what my father had cost her. Of what my very existence had cost her.

"I'm sorry," I said suddenly, interrupting her mid-sentence.

She looked up, confusion creasing her brow. "For what?"

"For all of this. For what he did to you. For being the reason you fell from grace."

Pain flickered across her features, but she shook her head firmly. "No, Archer. Never apologize for existing. Your father's actions were his own, and the consequences were mine to bear. But you—" Her voice caught. "You were the one good thing that came from it all. My son."

She rose from her chair and came around the table to stand before me. When her hand reached out to cup my cheek, I had to fight the urge to pull away, unused to such tenderness. Her touch was gentle, her palm cool against my skin.

"I have loved you from the moment I felt your life form inside me," she said, her voice steady despite the sheen of tears in her eyes. "And every moment since, whether you were with me or not."

I couldn't speak, couldn't find words adequate to respond to such unconditional acceptance. In my long life, serving a demon king, moving through shadows, I'd never experienced anything like it.

She must have understood, because she simply nodded and let her hand fall away. "Now," she said, her tone becoming practical again as she returned to her seat. "Let me teach you what you need to know."

For the next hour, she walked me through the ritual described in the text. The angelic language came haltingly to my tongue, the syllables foreign and yet somehow familiar, like a song I'd heard in childhood but nearly forgotten. She corrected my pronunciation patiently, demonstrated the gestures needed to focus the light energy, and explained how I would need todraw on both sides of my nature, demon and angel, to create a force strong enough to banish the Shadow Beast.

"The key," she said as she carefully closed the book, "is balance. Too much darkness, and you'll only feed it. Too much light, and you'll burn yourself out before the ritual is complete. You must find the perfect equilibrium between your two halves."

"Balance has never been my strong suit," I admitted, thinking of the barely controlled rage that had been my companion for centuries. "I tend to... react."

A smile touched her lips. "Another trait you get from me, I'm afraid. But you'll find it, Archer. When the moment comes, you'll find it because you must."

She pressed the heavenly tome into my hands. The book felt warm, almost alive against my palms, and surprisingly light given its size. "Take this. It contains everything you need to know."

I stared at it in shock. "I can't take this from you. It's one of your only connections to heaven."

"And now it's serving its purpose." Her voice was firm. "This knowledge was preserved for exactly this reason. To be used when the Shadow Beast returns. It belongs with you now."

The weight of her trust settled around my shoulders like a mantle. I carefully placed the book in the inner pocket of my leather jacket, where it somehow fit despite its size.

"Thank you," I said, knowing the words were inadequate. "For everything."

She smiled, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of what she must have looked like when her wings were white, when she walked the halls of heaven. "Bring her to me someday," she said. "Your Sierra. I'd like to meet the woman who's captured my son's heart."

"I will," I promised, rising from the chair. "When this is over, when she's safe."

"She will be." Lianna held her head up with a confidence I desperately wanted to share. "Because you will be the one to use your light to banish the beast. It's why you were born as you are, Archer. Half darkness, half light. For this moment."

She placed her hand on my cheek once more, love shining in her eyes. Love I'd done nothing to earn but which she gave freely anyway. In that moment, I made a silent vow that I would not fail her. I would not fail Sierra. I would embrace the light I'd denied for so long, and I would use it to protect what was mine.

23

Sierra

Ipaced the length of the great room in Rowen's mansion, my bare feet silent against the polished floor. The ticking of the ancient grandfather clock in the corner marked each passing minute with maddening precision. Archer had been gone for hours. It shouldn't have taken this long to speak with his mother, should it?

My fingers tugged nervously at the hem of my oversized sweater as I glanced at Callum and Rowen. The former was lounging in an armchair, legs stretched out before him, though the tension in his shoulders belied his casual posture. Rowen stood by the window, his broad back to us, hands clasped behind him as he stared out into the gathering darkness.