"You cannot reach him alone, Azriel," Oraxael warned, "He resides on the eight level of Hell, a place no being of purity can penetrate without escort, save perhaps, the big guy himself.  You are right, however...he *could* just compel me to turn, and I would be helpless to resist.  However..."<br/><br/>Oraxael paused, considering what he was about to say.  Did this angel really mean so much to him?  Why?  What was it that made him need Azriel, that made him yearn for his friendship, his acceptance, his...love?  Was it worth what he was considering?<br/><br/>"...there may be a way," Oraxael continued, softly, "If I were to escort you, as a prisoner, we could both reach Asmodeus unharmed.  Once there, we turn on him and attack...and if he compels me..."<br/><br/>Oraxael paused once more.  What he was about to do could not be undone, could not be forgotten.  It was an act nearly unthinkable...and yet.  There was but a single way to truly end the life of a demon such as he.  It was ancient magic, designed by Heaven itself, to keep the immortals from going too stray.  Each had a secret that only he or she knew, a secret of destruction.  He gazed at Azriel a moment, then made up his mind.<br/><br/>"My true name is Mit'tuannin, and once I was an angel of song.  Spoken from the lips of an angel, it would undo my existence, forever.  If he compels me...speak my name, and you will be free to strike him down."