Dancing on the golden ashes

"You're truly like her... it's somewhat scary, even, how much you two are alike. These were her exact words to me..." the demon said, her voice softer now, almost distant, and I watched as her eyes began to flicker with something deeper—something not quite sorrow, not quite longing, but the kind of emotion that only shows itself when memory and regret bleed into one.

"But no matter how much you compare us," I said slowly, letting my words cut through the heat between us, "the difference is that I'm now a demon… and she died a human. Am I right?"

My voice echoed in the molten air, sharp and calm, and the demon didn't answer—not with words, not yet. She just kept floating in this place of fire and pressure, drifting around me like a fish in a sea of gold, her body curving through the flames with such casual ease it was almost hypnotic. Around and around she moved, not touching me, but studying me, like she was trying to decipher something hidden beneath my skin, something I hadn't even uncovered myself. And I couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't just observing—I felt like I was being measured, compared, tested, like she was trying to see if what stood before her was still a woman... or already something far more dangerous.

"A demon, huh?" she echoed, pausing for a breath that felt far too thoughtful, her gaze piercing through the molten air as if trying to see something beyond flesh. "If I couldn't feel your aura… I'd almost call you an angel." Her eyes narrowed, not in suspicion, but curiosity—genuine, deep, unsettling. "How mysterious. I've never seen a demon with your appearance before." She floated a little closer, letting the silence stretch between us, thick with unspoken things. "Tell me, child… how did you acquire such a body? That form—it wasn't born from hellfire, nor shaped by natural sin. So how? Where did it come from?"

Her question struck deep, not just because of what she asked, but because of what she didn't say. She hadn't confirmed my guess—hadn't denied it either. That silence, that deliberate sidestep, made my thoughts spiral again. Was it possible that my other self hadn't died a human at all? That the woman she remembered—the one I might have been—had already shed her humanity long before the end? Had she become a demon, just like I had? And if so... what did that mean for me now?

"It's a long story," I said, my voice low, steady, but laced with the weight of far too many lifetimes. "A lot of time passed. A lot of rebirths. And after all of that... I came out like this." I gestured at myself, at the form I now wore like second skin. "All thanks to that trash who calls himself the Creator." The word tasted like ash in my mouth. "You know of him too, don't you? We both want to kill him, so who gives a damn about how I look? The blood of demons runs through me just the same." My eyes narrowed, heat crackling faintly under my skin. "And once—I looked exactly like you. One by one, no difference. Same tail, same wings, same burning hunger beneath the bones."

I glanced down at my fingers, flexing them slowly, watching the way the heat clung to my skin like memory. My wings had folded behind me again, no longer sharp and wild with battlelust. My body had reverted to its natural state—smooth, elegant, calm. My battle form was gone. But the sins… they hadn't left.

They still pulsed within me.

Still burned.

Still whispered and coiled around my core like snakes made of fire, refusing to fade. And I knew why. They weren't finished yet. Not while I still had emotions to feed them, not while I still had reasons to burn. They lingered for the same reason I did—because something inside me refused to let go. Because I still needed them… if only for a little longer.

"I have time," she said gently, her voice slow, ageless, like it had been echoing through this place long before I arrived. "All the time in the world. So tell me, child... all that you had to suffer. Those emotions—those wounds—are what will drive you to your goal in the end. Unless, of course, you wish to end up like her... in the pit of hell, all alone and suffering in death for all eternity..." Her voice dipped then, the sadness unmistakable, the loneliness in her tone sharp enough to leave marks. It wasn't a threat. It was mourning.

"You mean her soul... one of those trapped by the Creator, used to shape a new world for his twisted designs." I nodded slowly. "Yeah. We met."

The flames stirred faintly around me as I spoke, the memory still carved into my bones.

"She's truly gone now. Sacrificed herself for me. And I'm grateful—more than I know how to say. But my fate?" I paused, lifting my hand, and pointed calmly at my chest, where there was no pulse, no beat, no warmth. "My heart is gone."

It was not a metaphor. It was the truth.

"My emotions—they're not with me anymore. They're with those I care about. With the ones I gave them to. Me? I'm just the echo that remains. This is the life I chose. And if not having a heart means I can't reach the realm of the Immortal Emperor... then so be it. I'll forge a different path. I'll still reach it. On my own terms."

The words didn't whisper—they roared.

They echoed across the realm like a vow made in blood, like prophecy being written in flame, and for a moment, the demon woman stared in silence, her eyes reflecting something unreadable. And then, she smiled. Not mockingly. Not softly. But with something ancient and knowing—a smile full of fire and secrets.

"You're still missing two sins, am I right?"

The words dropped like a boulder. Crashing straight into me. Stealing the breath from my lungs, tightening my chest with the sudden weight of truth.

She knows...?

And just like that, my entire soul froze.