Time itself hesitated. The battlefield, once roaring with tension, was now sealed in sacred stillness. The armies of Heaven and Hell stood frozen, their gazes drawn to the child.
Wrapped in shifting cloth, glowing faintly with celestial and abyssal energy alike, the infant stirred. A soft hiccup escaped her lips—followed by a wail so thunderous it defied nature. It echoed across the Weeping Hollow like a trumpet of judgment, sharp enough to make angels wince and demons cover their ears.
Augustus stood as if struck. Not by the cry—but by what it stirred within him. Something... ancient. Something buried. His hand, a gauntlet of dark void steel, reached forward slowly—hesitantly. The moment his metal fingertips brushed her cheek, Aurené shrieked. A cry so pure it vibrated through bone and spirit, shattering the fragile peace Eleonoré had just established. The front ranks of Heaven's army staggered. A minor void beast near Augustus's flank collapsed into a puddle of twitching shadow. Even Eleonoré, radiant and composed, took a half-step back.
"Stop—! You're scaring her!" Eleonoré snapped, stepping forward and scooping Aurené into her arms. The screaming ceased instantly. The child curled into her shoulder and sighed, as if returning home.
Augustus blinked. His eyes narrowed just a fraction, a micro-expression of bewilderment. "You're better at this."
"Obviously." Eleonoré adjusted Aurené, who was now sniffling quietly. She glanced pointedly at the glistening stain on Augustus's chest plate. "And you, Demon Lord, need a change of armor."
A low, almost imperceptible growl rumbled in Augustus's chest, his gaze flicking to the defilement. "An infant's bodily functions. How amusing."
"It still might be a trap," Eleonoré retorted, already turning. "But now it's our problem. And trust me, this is just the beginning."
The surrounding soldiers exchanged uncertain glances. The divine light above faded slowly, the sky mending itself with trembling rays of sunlight. From both Heaven's and Hell's command, silent directives were received—stand down. Let them deal with it.
With a child swaddled in contradiction and divinity, the two greatest weapons of opposite realms began their reluctant truce. They walked back to the ruins of the monastery, their strained silence punctuated by Eleonoré's soft coos to Aurené and Augustus's occasional, heavy sigh.
Their new war... was parenthood.