When afternoon came, Stolas arrived in a flurry of feathers and theatrical grandeur—wings unfurling, robes sweeping behind him like he had stepped straight out of an ancient grimoire.
His eyes lit up as soon as he saw her.
“Stara, my dear!” he exclaimed, voice reverberating through the lobby. He startled many of the Sinners lounging on the furniture, but he didn't care. “How wonderful to see you again!”
Stara's tail wagged before she could stop it. Her smile came easier now, no longer the tight, exhausted mask she had worn for days.
“Prince Stolas. Welcome back.”
Angel stood with arms crossed, pretending nonchalance.
“Hey, Your Featheriness.”
“Angel Dust,” Stolas acknowledged him with a regal nod. “I trust you have kept Stara safe in my absence?”
“He has been,” Stara answered before Angel could. “In his own special way.”
Angel's smirk faltered beneath a flicker of guilt.
“Yeah. Real safe...”
She stared at his face.
Then she took his hand and lifted it gently—revealing the faint, glittering ring of magic wound around his wrist.
“You're my best friend, Angel. I'm grateful for you. Never forget that.”
Angel's breath hitched before his lips curled into a genuine, lopsided grin.
“Yeah...well. You're my favorite blueberry in the whole Pride ring. If I'm stuck in this Hellhole, I'm glad it's with you.”
Stolas watched the exchange, a quiet approval softening his features.
He cleared his throat gently, wings tucking behind him.
“Well then. Shall we begin preparations?”
Stara nodded with a smile and led them down the hallway, steps light for the first time in what felt like forever.
Angel followed at her side, Stolas trailing gracefully behind.
They turned a corner—and nearly collided with Adam.
The Fallen Angel trudged forward with his head down, only lifting it long enough to glare daggers at Stara before continuing past them without a word.
“Ah! Good afternoon, Mr. Adam,” Stolas greeted politely.
Adam grunted—barely a sound—and kept walking.
Stolas blinked as he watched Adam disappear around the corner.
“Oh my. He was much friendlier the other day. I wonder what has changed.”
“Don't worry about that asshole, sire,” Stara hissed, tail flicking with irritation. “He's not doing anything productive with anyone here.”
Angel narrowed his eyes suspiciously down the hallway.
“Weird. Haven't been seein' him around much lately. Maybe he's actually workin' on himself.”
“Good,” Stara muttered. “I hope he actually is.”
They reached a blank door at the end of the hall.
Stara turned the knob and pushed it open, revealing an empty room—bare walls, untouched floors, quiet air that felt like it was holding its breath.
Stolas looked around, an amused hum escaping him.
“This room holds so much potential.”
He turned to Stara with a smile and raised a hand, ancient magic twirling at his fingertips.
“Are you ready, my dear?”
She returned his grin and lifted her palms as they began to glow.
“More than ever, sire.”
Angel stood by the wall and smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Show 'em how it's done, sugar tits.”
The air rippled, like space itself shivered.
Stolas' power rumbled forward first, a low, distant hoot echoing from nowhere and everywhere as sigils began to carve themselves into the air, summoning items into existence.
Stara's rose with it—dry wings brushing together in a whispering rasp, like parchment catching wind. Wards formed on the breakable items, mending their weakest points.
Angel's ears perked up as he looked around the room.
“What the hell is that sound? I thought Niffty got rid of all the bugs around here.”
He stalked around trying to located the source of the sound, then paused in front of her.
“That's comin' from you, babe? Does your magic bullshit always sound like that?”
She froze in place.
Eyes darted to her glyphs, then back to him before shrugging, offering no real answer.
“It has always sounded that way, since I first met her,” Stolas explained with a faint smile. “As you know—magic carries identity. Though I never determined the source of her particular resonance.”
She said nothing—just stepped forward, palms out, letting energy bend the room's bones.
Ward sigils crawled across the ceiling, reinforcing Stolas'.
The floor pulsed.
The space breathed.
Angel watched as the room began to settle.
A gentle hum escaped him as he smiled.
“Well... if it counts for somethin', it's a pretty sound. I like it. Got good vibes.”
Before she could answer, behind them—wood creaked.
Adam's head appeared around the doorframe, horns catching the light.
His eyes narrowed at Stara, clearly studying her shifting magic.
Stara looked back to see him, her tail flicking with agitation.
“Right, because I'd totally listen to a bitch bug like you,” Adam grumbled. “Go suck another cock or—”
A low growl vibrated out of Stara, tail lashing.
Her magic warbled—sharper, ragged.
Stolas' eyes flicked to her immediately.
“Leave, Adam,” she snapped. “I won't have you speak to my friend like that.”
Adam opened his mouth—but Stolas snapped his head toward him.
The prince's eyes flashed blood-red, an owl's screech tearing though the air.
Stara's eyes flicked to Stolas instantly, softening for a moment before pulling her gaze back to Adam.
Adam froze, then snarled and backed away.
“Like I wanted to be in this circle jerk anyway.”
He turned sharply and stomped down the hallway.
Angel leaned close to Stara and whispered with a wicked grin, “I'm gonna go fuck with 'im.”
Then his sprinted after Adam, shouting, “Peek one more time, I'm changin' your name to Bastard à la flambé—!”
Their echoes faded as Angel pursued Adam relentlessly.
Silence returned to the room.
“Well, he sure is a spicy little fellow, isn't he?” Stolas said with a chuckle. “But he seems to care for you deeply, my dear.”
Stara hummed in acknowledgment, the sound of her magic calming coming out in waves.
“Yeah. I'm glad to have Angel around. He's... the only one to who keeps me sane.”
She lowered her hands, letting the sigils fade to embers, and exhaled slowly.
“... Actually, can I ask you something important?” she asked, fiddling with the hem of her dress.
He turned fully toward her, patient and open.
“Of course, Stara. How may I assist you?”
She took a deep breath before speaking again.
“Do you... know anything about Queen Lilith? About what happened to her—and where she could have gone?”
Stolas paused for a long moment, his expression dimming into something quieter.
When he finally spoke, his voice had softened.
“I am afraid I don't rightfully know what became of her. Last I heard, there was a meeting between her, Lucifer, and the head angels of Heaven. After that, she simply vanished. That was about eight years ago.”
His eye drifted toward the unfinished glyphs on the ceiling, as though answers might be etched there instead.
“Have you spoken to Lucifer? You two seem close.”
“Not anymore,” she answered too quickly.
Stolas tilted his head, studying her.
“Oh my. Such an aggressive response, Stara. Do tell me what happened.”
Stara's jaw clenched.
“He told me he would protect me. He said if anyone attacked me, he would stop them. But he didn't. He couldn't. Because he can't harm Sinners. So he lied.”
Silence filled the unfinished room.
Stolas' feathers shifted—not with shock but with something closer to resignation.
“I suspected he told you about that.”
Her eyes snapped toward him.
“You knew?”
“I knew,” he admitted, unflinching. “And I knew he could not do what you believed he promised. He's bound by his punishment to not harm the very Sinners that he created. Even the King of Hell cannot break Heaven's chains.”
Stara's head lowered, voice cracking.
“I don't understand. Then why would he say it?”
Stolas stepped closer—not imposing, but steady.
“Because he saw you. Truly saw you. For what you are. For what you endured. And he wanted you to feel less alone.”
He reached over and placed a hand between her horns, letting his talons sink into her hair.
She looked up at him to see the gentle look on his face, softening her own features.
“No king such as he had ever made such a promise before. Especially to a class such as yours.”
He began to stroke her hair.
“He never meant to protect your body, my dear. He meant to guard your belief that someone could.”
Stara's breath faltered.
He didn't say the memories out aloud, but they came anyway:
Lucifer discovering her wings.
Not recoiling, binding, or branding her.
But sitting with her.
Lowering himself to sit so she didn't have to stand alone.
Sharing a smoke with her and just talking.
Her throat tightened.
She said nothing, but Stolas saw the shift in her eyes and understood.
He pulled back his hand and looked up at the unfinished sigils.
“Come now. Let us finish this room. Sometimes the mind is steadier when the hands are busy.”
Together, they completed the remaining wards. Stolas shaped the bones of the spells as Stara weaved the delicate stitching that mended rather than merely reinforced.
When the last glyph settled into place, the room hummed—alive, aware, ready.
“Would you do the honors of testing it, Stara?” Stolas asked gently.
Stara chose a simple ceramic vase conjured for practice.
She lifted it before slamming it against the floor.
It shattered into a spray of glittering shards.
Before she could blink, the pieces trembled, lifted, and knit back together—whole once more, not a crack to be seen.
A breath left her—half-laughter, half-disbelief.
“It works,” she whispered.
Stolas stepped closer and smiled down at her.
“It does. Even broken things can mend... if given what they were always denied.”
She picked up the vase again turning it over in her hand.
Then she repeated—softly, to herself, as if letting the words sink in,
“Even broken things can mend...if given what they were always denied...”
* a drawing heavily inspired by that one cover! i’ll take any chance to draw this lovely thing in a suit. ♥︎♥︎♥︎ anyways,, featuring startale!chara because i love my beloved an that’s the chara i automatically draw hehehe. ♥︎♥︎♥︎ startale!chara (with bun) is 22 to be clear! the background is from episode 1 (15:41), the pose is inspired by caine’s poses in the series. also i drew them in star themed tights because i wanted to. sorry not sorry hehe! ☆ (#^.^#)
* the sketch below was originally meant to be part of the main art piece, but it ended up feeling too crowded, so it was never added.
