Blitzo's death

The fluorescent lights of the Pride Ring’s emergency clinic hummed with a clinical, buzzing indifference. It was a sound Blitzø had always hated—it reminded him of offices, of taxes, and of the sterile waiting rooms where his mother used to sit. Now, it was the only sound keeping him tethered to the waking world.

He looked down at his chest. The bandages were already soaked through with a dark, shimmering ichor that wasn't quite the right shade of red. The mission had been a disaster. A simple hit in the Gluttony Ring had gone sideways when a group of high-ranking shark-enforcers packed experimental angelic-tipped weaponry. He’d taken a jagged shard to the abdomen while shoving Moxxie out of the way.

He was an imp. He was supposed to be durable, scrappy, and impossible to kill. But as the leaden weight spread from his stomach to his limbs, Blitzø knew his luck had finally run out.

His hands trembled as he reached for his phone on the bedside table. The screen was cracked, a spiderweb of glass obscuring his wallpaper—a blurry photo of Loona looking annoyed while he hugged her. He hissed in pain, his breath coming in shallow, wet rattles.

"Okay," he wheezed, his voice sounding small in the empty room. "Okay, Blitzø. Time to be a big boy."

He opened his contacts. His thumb hovered over the first name. Stolas.

He couldn't do a voice call. He didn't have the breath to hear the Prince’s voice crack, or worse, to hear the pity. He opened a group chat—one he had titled 'IMP Family' and which usually consisted of him sending cursed memes that everyone ignored.

*Guys,* he typed, his vision blurring. *Not a joke. Clinic on 5th. I’m checking out early. Don't let Moxxie plan the funeral, it’ll be boring as shit. Love you guys. I mean it.*

He hit send. Then, he navigated to a private thread. The one that mattered most.

*Looney. I’m so sorry. I’m at the hospital. I don't think I’m walking out of this one. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. The apartment is yours. I love you, Loonie-toonie.*

He dropped the phone. It clattered onto the linoleum floor, the screen glowing dimly in the dark. He closed his eyes, his heart a frantic, dying bird against his ribs.

***

Across the city, the atmosphere shifted instantly.

At the I.M.P. office, Moxxie was in the middle of a heated lecture about weapon maintenance. Millie was sharpening her favorite axe, nodding along out of love rather than interest. When their phones chimed in unison, the silence that followed the reading of the text was deafening.

Moxxie’s face went bone-white. "He... he says it's not a joke."

Millie didn't even speak. She grabbed her gear, her eyes burning with a terrifying, desperate fire. "Get the van, Moxxie. Now!"

In the Goetia palace, Stolas was tending to his plants, trying to ignore the hollow ache in his chest that had lived there since his last fight with the imp. When his phone buzzed, he expected a prank or a demand for a favor. When he read the words, the watering can slipped from his fingers, shattering on the marble floor.

He didn't use a car. He didn't call a servant. With a wave of his hand and a surge of dark, frantic magic, he tore a hole in reality, his regal cape billowing behind him as he stepped into the void.

But it was Loona who moved the fastest.

She had been sitting at her desk, scrolling through her feed, pretending she didn't care that Blitzø had been gone longer than usual. When the notification popped up, she read it once. Twice. Her phone screen cracked under the pressure of her grip.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no."

She bolted from the chair, knocking it over. She didn't wait for the elevator. She shifted into her larger form, her claws digging into the drywall as she vaulted down the stairs. Her heart wasn't just sinking; it felt like it had been ripped out of her chest and replaced with cold lead.

"Dad!" she screamed as she burst through the office doors, sprinting toward the clinic three blocks away. "You better be lying, you old bastard! Dad!"

***

The hospital was a blur of motion. The staff tried to stop a frantic Hellhound from barreling through the intensive care unit, but one look at Loona’s bared fangs sent them scurrying.

She slammed the door to his room open so hard it dented the wall.

"Blitz!" she gasped, her chest heaving.

He looked smaller than she remembered. The loud, obnoxious, over-the-top imp was swallowed up by the white sheets of the hospital bed. His skin was graying, his horns dull.

"Hey, Loonie," he rasped, his eyes fluttering open. A weak, pathetic smirk touched his lips. "You’re... you’re early. I haven't even seen the bright light yet."

"Shut up!" Loona barked, though her voice broke in the middle. She collapsed into the chair beside him, grabbing his hand. It was cold. "Shut up, shut up, shut up. You aren't doing this. You don't get to just leave."

"Kinda... out of my hands, kiddo," he whispered.

The door burst open again. Moxxie and Millie scrambled in, both of them covered in the soot and grime of a reckless drive through Hell’s traffic. Millie let out a choked sob, rushing to the other side of the bed.

"Sir," Moxxie said, his voice trembling. "Sir, we’re here. We’re right here."

"Mox," Blitzø coughed, a spray of dark blood hitting his chin. "Tell... tell everyone I died doing something cool. Like fighting a dragon. Not... not getting poked by a fish-guy."

"You’re not dying!" Millie screamed, clutching his arm. "We’ll find a healer, we’ll go to the Greed Ring, we’ll—"

"It was angelic, Mills," Blitzø said softly, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "It burns. Can't... can't stop the burn."

A shadow fell over the room, cold and ancient. Stolas stepped out of the darkness, his feathers ruffled and his eyes wide with a terror that no prince should ever feel. He looked at the monitors, then at the blood, and finally at the imp who had spent years trying to push him away.

"Blitzø," Stolas breathed, his voice a jagged edge of grief.

"Hey, Birdy," Blitzø murmured. "Sorry about... everything. The cape, the book... the way I acted. I was a real dick, huh?"

Stolas moved to the foot of the bed, his long fingers trembling. "Please. Please, my imp. Do not do this. I can call the best physicians in the Ars Goetia. I can—"

"Too late for that, Stolas," Blitzø said. His grip on Loona’s hand tightened for a second before slackening. "Loona?"

"I’m here," she sobbed, no longer trying to hide the tears streaming down her snout. "I’m right here, Dad."

"I’m proud of you," he whispered. "The shop... keep it running. Or burn it down. Whatever you want. Just... be happy. Please."

His eyes began to close. The steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor began to slow.

"No!" Loona yelled, standing up and shaking him gently. "Dad, look at me! Open your eyes! You can't leave me alone! I'm not ready!"

"Sir, please!" Moxxie cried, clutching Millie as she buried her face in his shoulder.

Stolas stepped forward, his eyes glowing with a desperate, forbidden light. "I will not let the shadows take you. Not like this."

Blitzø’s breath hitched. One last, rattling exhale escaped his lungs. The monitor gave a long, flat, agonizing drone.

"Dad?" Loona whispered, the world falling silent around her. "Dad!"

She let out a howl then—a sound of pure, unadulterated agony that echoed through the halls of the hospital, a daughter’s scream for a father who had finally stopped running.

Stolas didn't move. He reached out, his hand hovering over Blitzø’s cold forehead. The Prince of Hell looked at the others—the broken Hellhound, the sobbing imps—and he felt a cold, crystalline resolve harden in his soul.

"He is not yours to take," Stolas hissed to the empty air, his voice echoing with the power of a thousand stars.

The room began to shake. Outside, the sky of the Pride Ring turned a deep, bruised purple. Stolas lowered his hand, his palm beginning to glow with a terrifying, ancient sigil.

"Stolas, what are you doing?" Moxxie whispered through his tears.

"Something very dangerous," Stolas replied, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. "Something that will cost me dearly. But I will not let him go into the dark alone."

Loona looked up, her eyes red and wild. "Save him. I don't care what it takes. Just bring him back."

Stolas nodded once. He pressed his glowing hand against Blitzø’s chest, right over the wound that had claimed his life. The room exploded in a flash of blinding, white-hot energy, and for a moment, the boundaries between life and death in Hell simply ceased to exist.

When the light faded, the silence was different. It wasn't the silence of a morgue; it was the heavy, expectant silence of a miracle.

The heart monitor was silent, smashed by the magical pulse. But in the stillness, a small, wet sound emerged.

A gasp.

Blitzø’s body arched off the bed, his lungs burning as they forced air back into a chest that had been still. He coughed violently, his eyes snapping open—no longer gray, but a vivid, stinging yellow.

"Ow," he croaked, his voice barely a thread. "Holy... fuck. That hurt."

Loona didn't say a word. She simply threw herself forward, burying her face in his neck and sobbing with a violence that shook both of them.

"Don't," she choked out between gasps. "Don't you ever do that again."

Blitzø blinked, his hand moving slowly, tentatively, to rest on her head. He looked over her shoulder at Millie and Moxxie, who were clinging to each other in shock, and then at Stolas.

The Prince looked exhausted. His feathers were scorched, and he looked as though he had aged a century in a matter of seconds. He was leaning against the wall for support, but he was smiling—a sad, relieved, beautiful smile.

"I told you," Stolas whispered. "I would not let the shadows have you."

Blitzø opened his mouth to make a joke, to deflect, to be the person he always was. But as he felt Loona’s tears wetting his collar and saw the genuine, raw love in the eyes of the people surrounding him, the words died in his throat.

"Okay," Blitzø said, his voice thick. "Okay. I’m staying. I’m staying."

He closed his eyes again, but this time, he wasn't fading. He was just resting, held fast by the people who refused to let him go. The Red Fade had been pushed back, and for the first time in his life, Blitzø realized he didn't have to face the dark alone.