The grand manor of Cedric Raine burned like a beacon in the night, its walls crumbling beneath the relentless assault of flames.
Ivan and Abaddon had decimated the little force Cedric had in the blink of an eye, proceeding to reduce his home to ash.
Smoke curled into the sky, carrying the scent of charred wood and bodies.
The only sounds left were the crackling embers and the ragged breathing of Grand Vizier Cedric Raine, who now dangled helplessly in Abaddon's grip in the second floor's dining hall.
The fallen angel held him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground, his black and white eyes gleaming with amusement.
"You know," Abaddon said, tilting his head, "I was expecting a bit more fight from you. But look at you—trembling, sniveling like a cornered rat." His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make Cedric's gasps more frantic. "Pathetic."
