The Incubus System Chapter 1457. Girls' Night I
The Incubus System Chapter 1457. Girls' Night I
Astra and Puriel’s PoV
Celia’s room was warmer than the rest of the house.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Soft yellow lamp on the bedside table. A few plushies arranged like tiny guardians on the shelf. Textbooks stacked in slightly chaotic towers near the desk. The window cracked open just enough for the night breeze to slip in.
Ruby had already left with a dramatic wink and a promise to “visit again soon.”
The pets were asleep downstairs. The house had quieted.
So it was just the three of them now.
Puriel sat cross-legged on Celia’s bed, hands folded loosely in her lap. Astra stood near the window at first, arms folded, posture straight out of instinct. Celia leaned against her headboard, hugging a pillow like a buffer between divine tension and mortal reality.
It felt like a girls’ night.
Except the air between the sisters was heavier than it should have been.
Astra broke first.
“So what Ethan said…” she began carefully. “Is it all true?”
Puriel didn’t look confused.
She knew which part.
“That you chose to stay here,” Astra continued softly, “because the Light Realm wouldn’t let you in.”
A pause.
Puriel’s fingers tightened slightly.
“Yeah.”
The word was quiet. Steady.
“I can’t go back.”
Celia’s brows knitted together, but she stayed silent. This wasn’t her territory.
“The king warned me,” Puriel continued, voice losing some of its brightness. “He delivered the message in the dream world. Directly.”
Astra’s jaw tightened slightly.
“He told me,” Puriel said, “that I should never return. That I’m unwelcome in the Light Realm again.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Outside, a car passed in the distance. Somewhere in the house, wood creaked softly as it settled.
“But he said otherwise,” Astra said slowly. “The news broadcasts. The official declarations.”
Puriel gave a hollow smile. “They’re fake.”
Celia’s eyes widened slightly.
“The king…” Puriel’s gaze drifted to the floor. “He has been obsessed with Gabrielle for a long time.”
Astra went still.
“You know that.”
She did.
Everyone did.
But acknowledging it out loud was different.
Astra turned away toward the window again. “That was mourning,” she said automatically. “He lost his sister.”
Puriel’s voice was calm. “You know he never saw Gabrielle as just his sister.”
That landed like a quiet blade.
Astra didn’t respond immediately.
Because she knew.
She had seen the way the king looked at Gabrielle. The way his composure fractured around her. The way every command shifted subtly when her name was involved.
It was devotion.
Not sibling affection.
Astra exhaled slowly. “The king…” She hesitated.
Then said it.
“He’s trying to revive her.”
Puriel’s head snapped up.
“What?”
“Resurrection.”
“That’s impossible.”
Puriel’s voice sharpened. “Angel resurrection is forbidden and impossible. Our cores dissolve into light when—”
“I know.”
Astra’s tone was firm.
“But he tried.”
Celia’s fingers tightened around the pillow.
“Tried how?” Puriel whispered.
Astra’s gaze hardened slightly.
“Again and again.”
She turned back toward her sister now. “He exhausted himself dozens of times. Burned through reserves of divine authority that should never be touched. Collapsed for years at a time.”
Puriel’s breathing slowed.
“…Years?”
“Sometimes centuries feel like years when you’re guarding a throne alone.”
Astra’s voice lost its edge there.
“And more.”
Puriel’s expression changed.
“What do you mean more?”
Astra’s silence stretched.
Then quietly…
“He closed the border.”
Puriel nodded faintly.
“I know that.”
“With power not entirely his own.”
Celia blinked.
Puriel’s gaze sharpened.
“Whose?”
Astra swallowed once.
“The sisters who retrieved Gabrielle from the human world.”
The room froze.
Puriel’s eyes widened slowly.
“You mean…”
Astra’s jaw clenched.
“He used their cores and power.”
Celia’s breath caught.
Puriel’s voice was barely audible.
“You mean… he killed them?”
Astra’s expression didn’t waver. “Sacrifice.”
Puriel flinched like the word burned.
“It was for the greater good,” Astra said automatically. The line had been repeated in council chambers too many times.
But it didn’t sound convincing now.
Puriel shook her head slowly. “No.”
Astra looked away.
“He believed if demons attacked while he was weakened…” she continued quietly, “the Light would fall.”
Understanding flickered through Puriel’s expression. “That’s why he sealed the borders so tightly,” she whispered.
Astra didn’t answer.
Because yes.
That was part of it.
If the king collapsed mid-ritual… if dark dimension discovered his vulnerability…
War.
Extinction.
Collapse of the Light Realm’s authority.
So he closed everything.
Borders.
Information.
Truth.
He framed Puriel’s exile as betrayal.
He twisted the narrative.
He made sure no one questioned him.
Celia’s voice was small. “How many times did he try?”
Astra stared at the floor. “Enough.”
Silence pressed down again.
Puriel’s eyes shimmered faintly with restrained emotion.
“And he failed,” she whispered.
Astra nodded once. “Every time.”
“Because resurrection isn’t possible.”
“Yes.”
Puriel let out a slow breath. “And he still keeps trying.”
“Yes.”
Celia hugged her pillow tighter. “That’s insane.”
Astra’s lips twitched faintly. “Kings don’t get told that.”
Puriel’s hands trembled slightly now. “He used their cores,” she murmured again, like she needed to hear it twice. “Our sisters.”
Astra’s voice softened for the first time tonight. “They volunteered.”
Puriel looked up sharply. “They believed in him?”
That hurt worse somehow.
Not murder.
Faith.
Astra’s jaw tightened faintly.
“At least… that’s what he told us.”
The air shifted.
Puriel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you believe it?”
Astra held her gaze.
“There were no witnesses,” she said evenly. “No clues.”
Celia swallowed quietly.
“You know the rules,” Astra continued, voice turning colder, not defensive, just factual. “We don’t question the king’s decisions.”
Puriel’s lips pressed together. Yeah, she knew this too well.
“And if the decision is wrong?” Celia asked.
Astra didn’t answer immediately.
Because that question… wasn’t allowed.
“In the Light Realm,” Astra said carefully, “obedience is stability.”
“And doubt?” Celia asked softly.
Astra’s eyes flickered for just a second. “Doubt is treason.”
The word landed heavy.
Celia leaned back slowly, staring at the ceiling. “So you just… accept it?”
“That’s how it works.”
“That’s how it worked,” Puriel corrected quietly.
Astra didn’t argue.
Because she couldn’t.
Because something had already shifted.
Because tonight, in a human girl’s bedroom filled with plushies and soft lamp light, obedience felt smaller than it used to.