Author's Note: Welcome to the next official sequel in the Blazing Tempest/Through the Ashes series! I've been super excited to start posting this story, and I really, really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it! If you are hoping to fast track to this story, you'll want to read Blazing Tempest, and then the two longer stories contained within through the Ashes (Solitude and Solidarity, and Divergence). Though all of Through the Ashes will help enhance certain ideas in this story, so I'd still recommend it.

After this, updates will happen on Monday afternoons, but I wanted my first post to be on the opening for SpardaVerseWeek as that theme really helped shape the later parts of the story.

Hope you Enjoy!

Chapter One

Ashira knew she was dreaming, but she didn't know why no one had bothered to wake her up.

It was the fifth time in the last month that she'd opened her eyes to nothing but thousands of tiny, multi-colored stars. Thirteen feathers circled around her, each one colored to represent each of her progenitors. Her own had replicated, as a second one hovered just above her palm in a fruitless attempt to illuminate the nothingness around her. None of the Phoenixes had spoken to her in this dream, nor had she been able to reach them. All she could do was wait.

"You are the end."

The voice was not one she recognized beyond this dream, nor had it ever given her a name. It was neither male nor female, but something caught between. She could imagine a deity of some kind, but those were never more than ancient demons who had done enough to have elaborate stories told about them.

"You shouldn't be here."

Ashira had yet to figure out how those two statements correlated. The end would imply that she was actually finishing something, though she couldn't imagine what. And she wasn't choosing to come to this place. In fact, she would be much happier if she didn't see it ever again. She had too much to do and too much on her mind to be essentially quarantined because no one knew when she might pass out again.

"But you might be enough…"

'Enough for what?' She wanted to scream, but her voice didn't exist here. And the other entity was impassive, deadpanned, and gave nothing away. Every time Ashira came here, she was left with more questions, and even less answers.

"Find the Angel of the Night."

Ashira blinked. That was new. But why? What did it mean? She'd never heard of that title, especially not among reavers. And "angel" was another problem entirely. They were fabrications of the human mind, usually brought on by sightings of attractive demons with feathered wings. A demon calling itself one was either incredibly vain or had simply accepted the title. Not unlike herself, she supposed. With how many people referred to her simply as "the Phoenix," Ashira could imagine how easy it would be to forget her own name if she were not close to those who preferred it.

"Leave."

She expected to slip from the dream, and wake up with a searing headache and everyone in the palace shouting orders to keep others away. Instead, the feathers vanished. The stars began to flicker out. One. Two. Ten. Hundreds. Thousands disappeared in an instant, leaving her in unrelenting darkness. A prickle of panic overtook her. Vergil. She reached for his soul, but felt nothing. She never had in one of these dreams… but she'd never gotten this far.

A scream burst from all directions. Ashira grabbed her ears as she crumbled to her knees. But the terrified sound didn't relent. It only got louder and louder, reverberating in her very bones. As it pulsed in her eardrums, the pressure in her head was nearly unbearable.

Crack.

Her body exploded in pain. She thrashed in agony, but no sound left her lips. In the distance, a figure in blue trudged toward her. Vergil! She reached for him, desperate. But when he stopped, the normally fierce blue eyes that met her were gray and vacant. Blood dripped from under his jacket. Yamato was nowhere to be found. A nightmare. She thought. This has to be….

A vine burst from his chest, as both he and his heart crumbled at her feet.

Ashira snapped awake with a scream. Vergil's soul rushed to meet hers as his hand grabbed her own. "Breathe," He said. She barely heard him through her disoriented mind. "Shira." He towered over her now, and she felt him press against her shoulder. When she finally caught his gaze, the dream him flickered in her mind- a sensory onslaught that she couldn't stop. "I'm here," he whispered as he lifted her hand to meet his cheek. And finally - whether it was the cool touch of his skin on her own, or her brain finally catching up with her body - her heart slowed. Vergil pressed his forehead to hers, silently guiding her breathing with his own. Ashira forced herself to focus until her heartbeat was closer to his; not perfect, but calm enough.

"It isn't a dream," Morpheus muttered. The dream-reaver's soul was exhausted, and Ashira was certain he'd been dragged out of bed, likely by Vergil himself. That had been the plan, as Morpheus was the only one who could possibly help her. At least, in theory. "Or a nightmare. I couldn't extract it."

Vergil frowned but didn't move. "It's not a vision," He said quietly. "At least… not of the future."

"I'm sorry I can't offer any more assistance."

"It keeps getting longer," It hurt to speak, and Vergil's grip tightened between her fingers. "I… keep hearing..." She trailed off as a very quiet ' stop' echoed in the back of her mind.

Ashira heard the ruffling of Morpheus's robes and imagined him bowing to them both. "Now that I've seen this for myself, I will try and track down any information that I can. Send for me if this happens again."

Ashira heard their door close a moment later, followed by Vergil's quiet sigh. "Where was I?" She said. Her memory of the collapses was always a bit hazy, but it never took too much to lift it.

"You were playing the piano," Vergil said. "Priscilla found you."

Ah yes. The only time in almost forever that she'd dared to go further than two hallways away from this room. "It's been almost a week." Ashira said. "I thought I was fine."

"We both did." While his voice was calm, Ashira could hear the pain behind his words. She'd made him promise weeks ago not to blame himself for the attacks, but she knew he did anyway. At least, he felt responsible for not yet finding a cure. "You can't leave the palace."

She forced herself upright, grateful when he helped her up without letting go. "I'm not canceling on our family." Ashira said. "They'll only be here for a few days. Surely I can manage that."

Vergil's frown deepened. "I hadn't planned on them leaving the palace much anyway. Not on their first visit." Again, Ashira could sense his anxiety under his cool demeanor. Though he'd been quietly panicking about his family's visit since Nero had asked about it over two months ago; long before Ashira's sudden illness. Not only had the request caught them both off guard, but the twins (namely Angelica) had begged to go with him. That, of course, had gotten Dante involved "just in case". Now all four of them were waiting for Pythagoras's door to open again. Apparently, the Sparda family was quite curious at what she and Vergil did on this side of the barrier.

Ashira still remembered the blade Dante got to the gut when he had jokingly said that Vergil was too much of a hard-ass to rule with anything but an iron fist.

"Vergil…" She drew her fingers along his chin to draw his gaze back to hers. "I'll be alright."

"Even V can't predict them," Vergil said. "I can't pull you out. I can't join you. And now you're watching me…"

"Saina."

He fell silent, and she pulled him closer for a gentle, reassuring kiss. "It's going to be okay," She whispered against his lips. His fingers twitched in the telltale signs of protest, but she kissed him again. "We have to keep moving forward, or we'll never make any progress."

Another quiet sigh. Then, he nodded. "Rest." He eased her back against the pillows. "I'll deal with everything else."

"If you need…"

"Sleep, Shira."

She couldn't help but smile as he tucked the blanket around her. Shadow appeared, smaller than usual, and curled up on her chest. The panther's weight and warmth alone lulled Ashira back towards sleep; real and genuine rest. "Don't stay out too late," She teased. Vergil rolled his eyes, and Ashira swore she felt his lips on her forehead before he vanished, too fast for her tired mind to follow.

Nero wasn't sure what compelled him to check on Kaiden at that exact moment. Honestly, Nero had plenty of other things to deal with. Packing for himself. Making sure Kyrie was ready with everything she could possibly want. Food, extra money, phone numbers of every helpful person in the city… anything he could think of. And Kyrie had teased him over it ("you're only leaving for a week"), but thanked him all the same.

Then there was Angelica, who was determined to pack every electrical thing she could find, including her phone, a hair-dryer, and even a lamp at some point. The phrase "no the Underworld does not have wi-fi" had left Nero's mouth more times than he cared to admit. Kyrie had eventually intervened on that one, and Angelica's four suitcases were eventually whittled down to one small duffel bag and her custom made sword.

But through all of this - three full days of chaos - Kaiden had been quiet. The sixteen-year-old had been physically present at all meals and conversations, but Nero could tell his mind was elsewhere. Kyrie had tried talking to him, but Kaiden always assured her he was fine before drifting back to his room. Even with Iris around, Kaiden had distanced himself, preferring to talk to her in private or tap away at the piano in the basement. And Nero had tried to casually pry information from her, but Iris had just given him that look. The teenage equivalent of "stay out of it, old man", and that was that.

Kaiden was what Nero imagined Vergil would have been like had everything gone right. Though that thought led to an uncomfortable amount of other possibilities - one of which was the fact that Nero might not have been born in the first place - so he didn't linger on it for too long.

"Hey champ," Nero said with a knock on the door. He heard the rustling of papers, followed by a loud thud. After a long string of words in Kaiden's special language, the door swung open.

"Father," Kaiden said awkwardly as he tugged at the sleeves of his jacket. Like Vergil, Kaiden preferred a formal style, and it had taken almost a decade to convince him that a suit and tie (or an ascot of all things) was not typical, human attire. Now, he wore a long, dark purple coat eerily similar to Vergil's old blue one that was packed away in a closet somewhere, functional dress pants, and matching gloves. Today, however, his hair was a complete mess, his white undershirt was wrinkled, and legs of his pants seemed to be two different sizes.

Nero raised an eyebrow, uncertain if he should be concerned by his son's unusual look, or the massive pile of books that he had clearly stolen from Pythagoras' library. "I'm packed and ready to leave," Kaiden said as he buttoned his cufflinks; a part of his attire that Nero had never managed to talk him out of.

"Does Pythy know about your… collection?"

Kaiden's face flushed a deep crimson. "Probably?"

Nero chuckled. "Well?" He gestured to the books. "What are you looking for?"

Kaiden shifted uncomfortably, not meeting Nero's gaze. "Lots of things."

If only Shy was here, Nero thought. She could pry practically anything out of Kaiden, as he was always more comfortable conversing in their shared language. Both Nero and Kyrie had attempted to learn it, but neither Shy nor Kaiden were capable of teaching it. Even Vergil, one of the non-Pheonixes who could speak it, told Nero it was likely impossible for someone outside of that connection to truly understand it. Iris herself had even started picking it up, and Nero was certain she had no formal instruction on the matter. But Nero had tried his best to make Kaiden feel comfortable with them. But, while Kaiden never expressed it, Nero was certain the teen felt alienated for reasons Nero hadn't figured out.

It didn't help that Angelica had practically stumbled into her demon form, while Kaiden was barely able to control his feathers.

"Humor me," Nero said.

Kaiden sighed as he wandered back to his books. "Most of it is on half-demons," He said, brushing his fingers over each cover he passed. "There's a couple of books on the Phoenix, though Grandmother would know a lot more than anything Pythagoras has written." He paused at his bed, lifting a single, open book with striking tenderness. "This one is… promising."

Even though Nero was certain he couldn't read it, he held his hand out regardless. "In what way?" He said as he shuffled through the pages. This was one of the few demonic books he'd seen without dozens of diagrams or strange flow charts that he wouldn't understand even if he could read the language. The foreign words in this one, however, were scrunched together so tightly that Nero had to squint to pick any of it apart. How anyone was fluent in what Vergil called "pretentious, elder demon tongue" was beyond him.

"Since Angelica got her trigger, I kept wondering if I was doing something wrong," Kaiden said as he took the book back. "This one discusses the logistics behind shifting between forms. Apparently, full demons can learn to "trigger" as we do, but most of them adapt human-esque forms." He frowned as he set the book down on the closest shelf. "I hoped I could use those concepts to find my own… other half."

"Any luck?"

There was a flicker of irritation in Kaiden's eyes before he caught himself. "Afraid not."

"You've got plenty of time," Nero said. "Your grandmother didn't trigger until she was like forty."

Kaiden's expression soured. "She was unaware of her nature as the Phoenix."

It took Nero a moment to unravel what his son actually said. "I didn't trigger until I was 30."

Kaiden's frown only deepened. "I can't wait that long."

"Why not?" Nero said. "Your powers are different than Angelica's. For all we know, you won't be able to transform until…" He trailed off.

"Grandmother dies?"

Nero flinched at Kaiden's eerily calm voice, but his son simply reached for another book as if nothing had been said. "While it is unclear how Phoenixes actually transfer their powers," He read the second he opened to an already bookmarked page. "One can assume that the older one must pass before the younger one can obtain their full strength." He snapped the book closed. "Therefore…"

"Her father was alive when she first triggered," Nero said. "So you still have a chance."

Kaiden looked unconvinced, but Angelica's voice cut them both off. "Time to go!" She yelled with boundless glee. She was probably more excited about this trip than anyone else, and it had been Nero who requested it in the first place.

"We should probably take these back," Nero said. "Or Pythy might not let us through the door."

Kaiden grimaced. "Give me a few minutes. I'll figure something…"

"Slowpokes!" Angelica yelled. "Let's go!" A second later, Nero heard the door slam closed, followed by a familiar burst of demonic energy from the front yard.

"I hope she can handle herself in the Underworld," Kaiden said.

"She'll be fine," Nero said with a shrug. Kaiden's eyebrows shot up, and Nero waved him off with a lopsided grin. "Vergil can handle her."

Kaiden snorted. "I guess we'll see."

Something felt off in Devil May Cry. And, try as he might, Dante couldn't figure out what that something was.

At first, he thought it was because of his trip. He had invited Lucia when Nero first mentioned it, and he was certain that Kaiden would be thrilled (or at the very least relieved) if Iris went with them. But both had turned him down for… some reason.

Dante hadn't figured out that reason yet either. And he might have thought about it more if Lucia hadn't forced him to start packing. "You need to take something," She said as she leaned against the doorway.

"Hey now," Dante said as he chucked a second coat into his suitcase. "I'm taking a lot of things." He shuffled through the literal pile in his luggage, ranging from two matching sets of clothes, an extra pair of boots, and… other things. Did he need three combs? What good was hair gel when he never used it? Why did he have an old snowglobe? Where did he even get that from? "Too many things."

Lucia shook her head as she kissed his cheek. "I heard that packing is much easier when you fold your clothing." She slowly worked through his mess, setting aside the random items as she searched for the few clothes he actually had. "Did you really only pack a single shirt and an extra jacket?"

"These pants are expensive!" He said with a grand gesture to the pair he was wearing. "I've only got one, sweetheart."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have goaded your brother into destroying the last pair."

Dante gave her the most dramatic pout he could manage. Lucia just laughed and tapped his cheek with pure pity. "It's not my fault he's all sensitive," Dante said. Lucia rolled her eyes as she folded his jacket in a much better shape than Dante could have ever dreamed of. "Do you think I need a blanket? Or I could take those old PJs you love so much. Vergil mentioned the palace is quite warm at this time of the year."

"I sure hope so," She said.

Dante hummed in thought as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Do you think Shy just leaves fire everywhere to keep the rooms warm? Or does she set the entire palace on fire occasionally? Or…" His eyes lit up with a wide grin. "Or do you think Vergil goes around lighting a bunch of candles to save her the trouble?"

"I think the Demon King's palace probably keeps itself warm," Lucia said as she pulled a shirt from the dresser behind them. "Or cold. Or whatever the royalty wishes it to be." She folded the shirt between them as her eyes drifted to the floor. Her smile faltered, and it took everything Dante had to keep his from doing the same.

"Are you sure you don't want to come, Luce?" He said as he lifted her chin with a finger and winked. "We could have some fun messing with my brother's domain."

"It's been a month since you've been impaled," Lucia said. "Maybe you should keep it that way."

"We just can't help ourselves," Dante said with a shrug and a quick peck on her lips. "But seriously." He dropped his voice just a bit. "Iris can stay with Kyrie. Trish and Lady can deal with this place. And…"

"I'm going with Iris, actually," Lucia said. "Kyrie's going to help me out while you're gone."

Dante blinked. "Help you with… what exactly?"

She gently pulled his hand off her waist and planted an absurdly gentle kiss to his knuckles. Dante didn't know why that made his head spin. They were always quite tender with each other, even though it was usually in a teasing manner. But there was that look in her eyes; a calm and confident sincerity of a woman who had something important to say. "Well go on then," Dante said with a knowing grin. "Whatever you're keeping from…" He trailed off as she rested his hand on her stomach, and his mind raced to figure out what she was trying to say.

"I wasn't certain until yesterday," Lucia said. "So I went to visit Ophelia while you were out on a job."

The revelation nearly knocked the air out of him. "Are you…?" He didn't know why his brain didn't finish that sentence, even as his mind played through every memory of them he could possibly think of. He pulled her closer to him, feeling for a sign, searching for…

A heartbeat.

Despite the shock, Dante couldn't ignore that strange, giddy feeling in his chest. "I'm about two months along," She said. "Maybe a bit more. Ophelia said I should have been able to sense it. But I'm not a typical demon, so who knows?" She took a deep and shaky breath. "Are you…"

Dante burst into laughter as he swept her into his arms. "Luce I…"

His breathing hitched when he met her gaze. Excitement was all he saw, but his own heart dropped into his stomach.

I'm going to be a father.

I'm going to be a father.

Why did his skin feel suddenly clammy? Why was it so hard to breath? He balled his fists as discreetly as he could, hoping she didn't feel it. But when her smile wavered, Dante kissed her lips to hide his sudden uncertainty. "We're already a family," He said. "A little guy will fit right in."

Her shoulders relaxed as her smile returned. "You're not allowed to worry about me while you're gone," She said as he sat her down.

"Of course not, babe," He said. "I never worry about you."

He didn't have the heart to tell her that he was more worried about himself. And, once she left him to his thoughts to discuss plans with Iris, Dante plopped onto the bed as the weight of the world dropped squarely on his shoulders. What is wrong with me? He thought as he stared at nothing. "Everything's fine. This is a good thing. She's happy. I'm…"

"Terrified."

A soft breath escaped his lips as his head fell into his hands.