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You aren’t human anymore, not really, but you had been born as one.
Celestial blood no longer runs through your veins, but ancestry doesn’t lie. Lilith made sure of that.
When lakes evaporate in the Celestial Realm, when holes open up in the human world’s forests, when the Royal Tomb collapses, Solomon knows:
The time has come for you to choose.
“I’ve decided to call it the Ring. Despite having deep bonds with all three realms, you lack the power to control it, which is causing all sorts of problems at the moment,” he explains. “I haven’t told anyone about this yet—”
“So why me.”
“Because you have a choice to make.”
Solomon cradles your hands in his. Your skin has turned ashen and your claws crooked, despite Asmodeus’ best efforts. A small price to pay for you becoming one of them.
“You can let the realms burn for what the Devildom has done to you. As your friend, I understand that you would be justified in your revenge.”
“But?”
“But as humanity’s strongest sorcerer,” and there it is, the bitter reminder that you are no longer of his kind, “I have to safeguard the human world and its inhabitants.”
“So you’re going to kill me if I choose to do nothing?”
Solomon shakes his head with a helpless laugh. “Your pacts won’t allow it. I’d be struck down before my magic can touch you. No, my hands are tied.”
“You can’t kill me. You can’t help me. What use are you then?”
The sorcerer sits down next to you, close enough for you to reach out, yet not quite touching. “I keep you sane with my company?” He shrugs and looks away. “I promised I’d visit. Seems like that’s all I can do for you now.”
He shouldn’t sound as upset as he does. He has no right. And yet, he doesn’t move away when he feels you shift to lean against him.
In this reality, Diavolo doesn’t find out about the Ring from Solomon. He doesn’t have to. Under his orders, Barbatos searches the timelines and learns about the sacrifice another you had made — had almost made — before the answer presented itself in the form of a holy ring.
(No one has heard from Simeon ever since he and Luke stepped through the portal. It goes without saying that the angels have picked their side, and it would take a full-scale invasion before they would allow the heavenly gates to be stormed and Michael’s precious relic stolen.)
“I don’t mind severing the pacts,” you say casually. Everyone’s heads whip towards you so fast that your neck hurts from sheer proximity. Gripping Lucifer’s hand, soothing the poor, confused, amnesiac demon, you start to explain.
You were bound to them irrevocably anyway. The pacts were just a symbol. You held no power over them, not even when it mattered.
“If you want a replacement, I’d be happy with diamond rings,” you offer as an alternative. “I won’t accept anything but the best.”
“And you shall have it,” Diavolo promises, fangs showing as he smiles.
Despite initial resistance, you’ve embraced your new life, opened up to them more, showed them sides of yourself you’ve never shown anyone else, fully integrated into their culture and their lives. This was the logical next step.
(Solomon must have finally talked some sense into you. Perhaps they can continue to let him live after all.)
The pact breaking process is brutal. Your tears seep into Lucifer’s shoulder as the demon hugs you close. Mammon holds your hand and doesn’t say a word when your claws pierce his flesh. Leviathan keeps his tail coiled around your other wrist, while Satan whispers love poems into your ear. Asmodeus pumps pheromones into the air, attempting to drug your senses into oblivion. Beelzebub lets you bite a chunk out of his arm when the pain becomes too much, and Belphegor wrap you up with the softest, fluffiest blankets that smell like him.
It takes hours before it’s done. Lucifer’s memory returns. Diavolo and Barbatos depart for the castle with strict instructions for you to rest. The remaining brothers start to bicker over proposal ideas, each trying to one up the other and outbid the biggest jewels.
The threat is over. Life goes on.
But your very nature has changed. The metamorphosis had taken root too deeply, and the scales have been tilted.
The Ring is not broken. The human world will feel it, the Celestial Realm less so, but the Devildom will bear the brunt. You don’t know what will happen to it, and honestly you don’t care.
The end is nigh, and you fall asleep in your plush bed with a smile on your face for the first time in years.