This could not be.

The room around him kept moving, but he could not perceive it. Ayako was holding dearly the infant in her arms, for the first time seeing her daughter, something beautiful to her. Uriel was kneeling by the bed, brushing the child’s cheek, gently, with wonder and surprise. Ariel was peeking at the end of the bed, tip toeing to be able to meet her new sister.

And him… he could not move. He could not speak. He couldn’t do anything but stand there and shiver.

There should be no claws. There should be no fangs. There should not be any wings. And most important… those blue eyes should not be sharp; they should not be fixed on him with such intensity.

He felt a touch. Startled, he woke up from his own induced nightmare. He met eyes with Uriel, there at his side. While breathing heavily, he barely heard his demon ask worriedly.

“Alexis?”

A moment that was joyful seconds ago was now tense. They had noticed him, his fear, and the horror in his eyes.

It should not be. He shouldn’t be like this.

This had to have a logical explanation.

Both Ayako and Uriel frowned with worry. They watched Alexis’ expression twist. That frown changed, and turned into a forced smirk. He began to laugh a little, slowly. When the angel spoke next, they truly did not know what to say.

“I never knew you demons could bring such changes at birth. No wonder you are so different from each other.”

Uriel looked at him sadly. Moving his claw away from the little demon, he laid it on his chest, to say the next words carefully.

“Alexis… it doesn’t work like that.” Those ambers eyes opened again, smile faltering. “A demon with small horns could have a son with stronger ones. A winged demon could have a child with ones far too small to ever fly. Changes do happen, in a consistent manner. But… A demon like me could never bring a child like this one.”

“B-but…” He shook his head, looking at the girl again. “S-she’s a demon. I am…”

An angel, Ayako knew. She noticed Ariel there, looking at them in confusion. Her eyes were filling more and more with worry. So she spoke, looking right through Alexis, who seemed to be struck by her eyes like if they were arrows.

“A father.”

That word seemed to bring him back slightly. He quickly realized how he looked like, being like this. When Ariel was born, Uriel cried, with joy. Yet here he was, looking at the child like if it was a bloodied knife, a wound on his flesh.

If one could break his own heart, he had to be feeling something similar. He was scared, he truly was. But not of the child. No, he was looking at something precious, no matter how she looked like. He was scared of himself.

But it didn’t matter now. It shouldn’t.

Ariel’s eyes lost some of their worry, because Alexis moved at last. Like how she neared fire for the first time, the angel neared her sister. He looked down at her with wonder, but slight fear as well.

Ayako’s hands lifted a little, for him to take her, and he found himself trembling. While taking her in his own arms, she felt strangely heavy, even though she couldn’t weight much. He stared at her blue eyes, at those irises with multiple shades of color, blue and bronze. She had stopped crying. As she looked up at him with such sharp eyes, he felt like prey at first… but soon he realized it was not like that.

He was in a trance. Yet he managed to hear what Uriel asked, with a reassuring and caring tone.

“How do you want to call her?”

His amber eyes sought for the ones of Ayako, doubtfully. She was smiling; she only nodded at him, offering him the choice. His heart began to beat with something he could not describe. Holding the baby tighter, he stared at her bronze primal wings.

“Like her grandmother.”

——————

Father.

The word felt so foreign. It truly did.

Under the sun, brushed by the breeze, he caressed the face of his daughter again, holding her close.

“What I’m going to do, Aurora?”

He shouldn’t even be here, not with her. She was barely a few weeks old.

He was surrounded by tall oaks, sitting on a tree stump. Hiding, to be by himself; he had left the manor, heading into the surrounding forest. When Ayako had not been looking, he had taken the small demon into his arms, and just sought for a place in which to ponder.

He had been here once. Though this time he was not hiding from a demon, but from himself. He needed to sort his thoughts, one by one.

He had no answer for one of his most painful questions.

What am I now?

He did not know.

Again he looked at his hand, moving it then against the one of the small baby. He brushed the small black nails, softly, able to scratch him if they so wished. He gently nudged her small wings next, envying her as she made them flutter in response. Then, he carefully opened her mouth a little, to see her small pointy teeth. He was not surprised to be bitten.

Carefully, he opened her mouth more, and with a long sigh, he freed his finger. Aurora tried to grab his hand with a small giggle, as if this was a play of tug for her. Her bite was not malicious or strong, just a playful answer to his daring touches.

It was cute, really. She could really harm him if she wanted to. But instead, she was laughing up at him, trying to reach with her small hands his long black flick of hair.

“I wonder what I look like to you.”

She probably did not care for his lack of wings, much less understand it.

Yet here he was, worrying and pondering again, every single doubt. His inner screams had become whispers, but they were still there, insistent. He couldn’t sleep in the nights; he couldn’t focus in the days, when he should be taking care of her. He doubted in himself. He doubted her.

He wasn’t a good parent. At all.

A voice interrupted his laments, in a very strange contrast.

“Babies don’t have much notion of object permanence. If you cover your face, you’ll probably look invisible to her.”

He looked sideways. Uriel was calmly walking towards him, with a caring smile. He acknowledged his presence, mordantly.

“It was a rhetorical question, Uriel. I didn’t expect an answer out of her.”

Uriel ignored his roll of eyes. Much more good with children, the demon crouched at the side of the stump, and began to look at Aurora. Covering his face with his claws in front of her, the baby seemed to gasp and exclaim worriedly. Before she could fidget much in Alexis’ hold, he moved away his hands, revealing himself again, much to her surprise.

Alexis was not as amused as her. He ignored her laughs, and kept himself still while Uriel sat at his side.

“Did you feel envy for their little stroll?”

“No, I didn’t.” It was Sunday. Ayako had taken Ariel for a small trip on their horse. It had taken a while to make Ariel understand her sister could not accompany her yet. “I just wanted some fresh air.”

Uriel nodded, not really believing that excuse.

“You’ve not come to this stump for years. You’re worried.”

“It’s a nice stump.” He began to trace the lines it had, not with the most honest of tones. “It was about time I paid it a visit. I have to show her around, don’t I?”

Uriel held his claws together, looking at him intently. The demon was patient, and smart as well. He waited a while before asking, letting him sort his thoughts.

“She’s no different, Alexis. She’s just like you.” He laughed and pointed at her little wings, which showed out the warm blanket in which she was wrapped. “Her wings have beautiful bronze feathers, very similar to your golden ones. Her fangs will only show when she smiles, and even then it will be a pretty thing to see. She has Ayako’s beauty too, much like Ariel.”

“Most babies look the same when small.” Alexis laughed a little, admitting. “But you’re right. She’s pretty. She and her sister have the same eyes.”

Uriel leaned his head, frowning for a moment. Alexis showed true adoration for Aurora, which did not match with the anxiety he showed.

“You love her. Yet you keep hinting dread in your eyes. I smell the fear around you.”

“Maybe she does smell it too.” Aurora was looking at them both with curious eyes, batting her wings erratically. “I do love her, with all my heart. I don’t care that she is a demon. I fear myself.”

“Believe me, you’re still an angel.”

“And how can we know that? No angels keep living after a loss such as mine. I could have changed.”

“I know it. I feel it. In more than one way. Your scent, the spell that twists my soul… it has not changed at all. It wouldn’t matter anyway.”

Alexis handed Aurora to Uriel, who blinked worriedly when he laid his hands onto his face. The angel lamented, whispering with his eyes closed.

“No, it really does not matter. I just… really did not expect her to be mine. I thought she would be like Ariel, like you. Becoming a father was something I kept denying, something improbable. I don’t think I’m ready. I wish I knew as much as you, how to act, how to teach her, how to lift her spirits when needed. I’m scared to fail her.”

“You’ll do fine.” Uriel rocked Aurora slowly in his arms, distracting her with his tail over her eyes. “It’s not something you are born knowing. You look around you as you grow, and learn from the ones that took you here.”

The next words made Uriel’s tail lower, much to the disappointment of the child.

“What if I didn’t have anyone to learn from?” His violet eyes looked at his amber ones. They were full of resent. “I’ve only had Angus in my life. And he has never been a standard parental figure. He has always been… forced to be by my side.”

“Did your parents…?”

Alexis met his eyes. It was not an angry look, but it was still a tired one.

“Never met my mother. Was told she died not long after I was born. On the other hand, my father still lives; much to my disappointment.”

Uriel did not understand how he could say that last thing. Forced to leave his condolences for later, he questioned, confused.

“Why would you say that? What happened?”

“Well… I have no fucking idea what, Uriel.” Alexis laughed. He did, but it was with a hate he rarely showed. “I don’t know why, but this bastard loved to make me miserable, at every chance he got. I never got to know him; he wouldn’t let me. He would not even tell me why he would treat me so harshly, even when I was only a kid. He would always show disappointment while looking at me… and only when I grew enough I learnt to stop trying to win his approval. I wish Angus had told me why he abandoned me; he never did. I never had a father, even though I could have.”

“I’m sorry.” Uriel clenched his teeth, feeling impotence. “He sounds like a horrible man. And… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t worry, I never met her. I can’t cry for someone I’ve only heard about. I just wish he had been there in her absence. But you know already, angels are cold.”

Uriel affirmed sadly, whipping his tail on the ground.

“That’s not coldness.”

“Maybe not. But it was all I knew around me.”

Knowing Aurora was too small to understand his words, he opened his heart to Uriel. He related his painful memories, much like Uriel had done once for him.

“All I knew, was disappointment, from the angels around me. No matter who; elders, priests, soldiers… and him. Everything I did was not enough.”

I hated it.

———————

Since I hold memory, I lived with Angus.

A good man he was. He always would have a plate of food ready for me; he tried his best to teach me, and would never shun me. He was not the most emotional of angels, but he was caring and supportive.

At first, I couldn’t really comprehend what was wrong around me. I was too young.

I barely remember growing in that old house, that forge of his. But I remember the time I went out for my first day with the elders, in a big open temple. A lot of children walked in the streets, heading for the same place as me. All our wings fluttered, nervously. I felt curiosity, slight apprehension. All of us were supposed to begin our real education: the history of our culture, the basics of our beliefs, our traditions and ways… Honestly, I was excited at first. But something did not feel right.

I would keep looking around me the first days, a shiver running down my wings. I would feel eyes on me, all the time. I did not know what it was.

I really tried to pay attention to the classes. All the children excelled, all could recite what the elder just said, word by word. But I couldn’t. I would ask questions, which led to trails of thought that the elders did not approve of. I kept getting distracted.

“You haven’t learnt anything today.” They would say. They would glare at my notes as well. “You’ve missed the meaning in the poem. Your runes are a mess. Begin again, repeat, and don’t fail.”

I cared. I kept trying to do as the other kids did. But I would always get distracted by a bird, or become tired of the unending hours I had to sit on stony steps.

And the more I failed to follow the words of the elders, the more I felt it. That sensation, of someone watching me. It took me a month to notice. But I did at last. There, at the top of a nearby tower, two sharp eyes, fixed on me from above. A tall figure, two silver glints.

I had seen it before. Outside, once, when playing near my home. I did not know who it was then. The figure flew away when it saw me looking back.

It always came back. Not always in that tower. Sometimes, he would watch me from afar in the busy streets that headed to the seminary. A tall man, of black hair, clad in white robes, which made his beautiful silver wings look more heavenly. His eyes were hawk like, sharp and wise looking. He had a proud stance; he would never say a word.

Once, I tried to near him. I pushed through the crowd, glaring at him back, wanting to know what he wanted from me. But I would blink, and he would be gone, just as I stepped where he had been.

Einar was his name. Angus surrendered under my constant questions, night after night.

I did not understand the meaning of the word father. According to the elders, a father was the bringer of your life, the angel who preceded your blood, your history. Every kid around me had a history attached to their name; some came from ancient priests, others descended from strong warriors, some were proud to be sons of skilled artisans… but me? No one seemed to want to tell me what my legacy was. The elders would look at me doubtfully, wanting to say something, but not daring to.

It was only when I left those lessons that I began to assess why they feared to. The young angels like me ended their first stage of their lives, and at age of ten, all took their own paths. That man, he came one night to our home.

I was not allowed to leave my room. I heard Angus scream, yell, and stomp his foot down. Yet that voice had been stronger than his, even if more soft and composed.

I was expected to attend a big garrison, next morning.

And I did. I did wake to head for that place that morning. Angus looked me in the eye and told me exactly what kind of education I was to follow next. He had a sad look in his eyes, one of resignation, of shame. He wanted to say something, but he did not. For the first time, he walked with me to the place where I would learn. His eyes glanced to every corner and every tower above us, and I did not feel those eyes.

It did not last long. We reached the huge stony garrison, and as soon as we neared the huge entrance, Angus was forbidden of entry. The guards seemed wary of him, though their expression had something more, which I did not decipher.

My uncle did not struggle to enter. While sending me a last sympathetic smile, he wished me good luck, and then bid farewell. He walked away, knowing I would return in the night.

Alone, I felt that sensation again.

I looked around me. There were soldiers in every corner of the huge stony patio. A huge gallery, filled to the brim with stacks of weapons and armors. Others like me had gathered ahead, kids that looked stronger and bigger. If they were not big, they had this attitude to them, of pride and content. Agile, they would be the first to grab their weapon of choice; some would be brought an inherited one, carried by a servant.

Golden runes decorated the walls. It all was far too detailed for it to be a place which I was used to. I was familiar with simple things, not with grandness and luxury. The adult soldiers were clad in the most affluent armors, and the elder at charge wore the most delicate robes.

I knew the warmth of a small wooden house, not the coldness and strict calculation of that place.

I was the last to pick a weapon. While all the kids had taken one, I was reluctant. Under the fierce expectant glare of a captain, I chose a small short sword. It was nothing compared to the maces and axes the other kids had taken, or the incredible heirlooms some were given. Holding said weapon tightly, I walked with the others to the center of the patio. What followed was an intense lecture that regarded our future, the grand battles we aspired to.

It made me feel lightheaded. And after hours of it, we had to move. It was the first day, the first test. And of course, he came. When he walked out from inside the garrison, he was greeted formally by the elder. Like if he owned the place, he walked to the shade of some galleries and watched from there, with a trace of wonder in his eyes. For the first time, I noted something else apart from coldness in Einar. He was expectant.

I only grew more nervous.

Standing in waiting, I watched the teachers pick two kids and place them face to face in the center of the patio. I began to fear. It was a duel. Not a lethal one, but a duel nonetheless.

One, a boy of strong features, clad in grey robes, armed with an axe. The second, a sly looking girl, small but agile, with a look that pierced the other, while holding a mace.

The boy seemed to smirk, but the girl remained stern. Batting his big brown wings, he lunged at her when the elder signaled the start of the fight. He swung down his axe at her, intending on denting her armor. But she was fast. Her face had an expression of conceit, of confidence.

That boy fell to the ground, after being disarmed swiftly. After hitting the floor harshly, the girl flapped her reddish wings proudly, looking at the teachers for approval.

Her servant clapped first. The teachers followed next, and to my surprise, Einar did too, even if more slowly. Her eyes filled with pride, something she seemed used to.

I thought that was the end of that. I was wrong. The elder looked at Einar for a moment. He seemed to ponder. He looked over all of us, and sadly, he spotted me in the crowd.

“He will be next.”

I rightfully froze. The girl of red wings looked at me, with a small amused smile. She did not seem impressed by my choice of weapon or armor. Neither by my wings, which at that point were messier and more spiked.

I said nothing. I was moved into the center, with doubtful steps. Facing her, I felt small, even though I was taller. She was eyeing me up and down, surely thinking in which ways she could take advantage of my obvious discomfort.

I did not want to fight. I did not want to be there. Yet before I knew it, it began. The signal was given, and I saw her sprint towards me. Trembling, I lifted the short sword a little, knowing I had to try. Einar was watching me, and as I readied my stance, he seemed hopeful.

But I could not strike. She lifted her weapon over my head, with a swift jump and a flap of her wings. And I couldn’t answer her attack. I wasn’t able to strike her, even if I could have.

Einar’s eyes filled with the most unsatisfied look I ever saw. He watched me drop the weapon, and her halt.

As I backed away, he did too. As he left through the rooms he came from, he did not bother to look back to see me be yelled at by a soldier.

And it was just the first day. Day after day, I would be beaten by others to the ground. They soon noticed I was the weakest, and the less skilled ones would pick me as a rival once a week, for them to have some kind of pride, like the most swift ones. I tried to fight. I tried to at least learn to defend myself. But I was not built for that. My body was weaker, smaller, and I did not have the malice necessary to strife. I even feared to fly. I had to be pushed down when that time came; I did not have the strength or determination required. I was a mockery of what that place represented.

The teachers really did try to pull me to my feet. With exhausting training, they would desperately try to make a soldier out of me. Their gazes were full of disappointment, every time I failed to come to their standards. They seemed to wish the best for me, but the best they wanted. They pronounced Einar’s name multiple times… with respect for him, yet not for me.

While I cried in impotence in the nights, Angus tried to lift my spirits. It was obvious he did not like this, but he wanted me to be strong. He was the only friendly hand I had at reach, and even then, somewhat distant.

I only lasted a year. I was casted out in the end. They grew tired of me. I did not even feel Einar’s eyes on me for long.

For a week, I secluded myself in my small room. Angry, I kept hitting the armor and weapons I was given, despising their mere existence.

But no angel could live without vocation. And I did not know that my life was considered a challenge, something to twist around at their will, to mend and fix. They took me to the next place they believed could shape me into a true angel… a temple.

It was different from the garrison, but similar. There were no fights, but it somehow felt more oppressive. Angus felt really sorry for me, for I wouldn’t be able to leave that place more than once a month. Locked away in a towering building, lost in ancient stony halls, struck continuously by the echo of bells and chants, I was to become a priest.

I did not even pay mind to the basics in school. Frustrated to be taken away from what I called home, I finally stopped being a cheerful kid. I developed a tendency to speak back. And it did not do me any favors.

The elders in there would slap me from time to time, shocked by the remarks and doubts I would express. For me, the books they taught only showed nonsense. Our deity had supposedly walked our land as a gigantic mass of fire once, which scorched every single living thing and left the huge abyss we knew. But even if fire had walked like a giant, we still had an enormous sea, and big forests full of life. There was no trace of ashes or volcanic activity. I could not understand how we could have possibly come from ash either.

I as well refused to conform to the chores I was given. The more they tried to bend me with their will, the more I rebelled. I did not want to become a man whose life consisted of a single thing, submission. Older then, I would throw the bad smelling incense out the top of the towers, I would sneak out in the nights, I would try to play the organ when no one watched, and I would fail to sing in tone with the others on purpose.

I did not become the image of a priest with time. I failed to come to their standards once more. At the age of fifteen, they kicked me out of the temple, refusing entirely to waste more effort in me. Part of me was proud, but I recognized the same shame it brought me.

The day I was pushed out the temple’s door, he was there. I was now tall enough to look him back in the eye; he circled me this one time, looking at me up and down. He said these words calmly, sternly.

“Not a warrior. Not a priest. Not even a wise angel. You’ve failed to become any of the things your ancestors have been.”

That day, I spoke back. Finally, I had him near, at my reach. The words left my mouth without thinking.

“And so what?! What have you done to help, father?!”

My anger was short lived, my bravery drowned. He looked at me like if I had not just yelled; he held all the serenity in the world. His hate was obvious nonetheless, I saw his silver wings rise up.

“I have given you many chances, to be worthy of being my son.” He turned, folding his wings strongly. “I’m not your father. You failed in every single moment.”

I returned to Angus that day, even more broken.

“I refuse to keep trying.” I said. I even pushed my own uncle away. “I will not let you drag me anywhere else!”

Angus had given me a sad stare then, he had not hit me like others would have. While I sat in our small living room, he placed a hand on my shoulder. With slow words, he spoke with kinder words, with a tone he only used when I was younger and scared.

“So be it.”

I did not understand his expression. He said those three words with a raging fury, but not for me. If looks could kill, he could have scorched the one he had in his thoughts.

He had obliged the elders and Einar. He had surrendered to their demands and expectations. He had wanted the best for me; becoming a warrior or priest secured a life of privilege, of prestige.

He understood then that those lives weren’t for me.

I did nothing for a year. Well, nothing of worth in the eyes of other angels. For once, I had freedom. Angus let me do as I wished. I tinkered in the forge, I walked through the markets like when I was a child, and I flied like I never did before. Multiple times, I was caught breaking into places where I was not supposed to be. Many priests knew me then as the guy who liked to sway the bells in the tall towers, without permission, and with my feet. The guards knew me as the troublemaker that sneaked into warehouses and took away resources. Sometimes, I still broke into temples to play the organs.

Each time I got caught, I would be thrown into a cell. But I did not care. Angus did scold me, but as soon as the guards would leave our door and let go of my collar, he would give me this look, advising me to be sneakier next time.

When I was seventeen, three soldiers visited our door, but not because I had gotten in trouble. With a very fragile looking document, they began to spit nonsense, of how no angels were allowed to live without a meaning, without a purpose in that stupid citadel. I did not fit into their systematic system. Before the two of us, they warned me to pick a profession in a year, or else. I had not been taught by any masters… or so they thought. Their faces were priceless as Angus coughed and interrupted their monologue. Punching his own chest, he pointed at himself, laying the facts.

“This boy here has been taught already. He has a profession.”

“No he hasn’t” The guards tried to stay firm, prideful, resentful of my actions. “He’s just a slacker, an aloof troublemaker and-”

“A blacksmith.” Angus finished for them, leaning mockingly onto the door. “For these past years, since he’s left that temple, I have not stopped teaching him my ways. He’s been my apprentice, and will become my subordinate next year. Do you have any problems with that?”

The guards wanted to protest and say something, badly. Under the smug look Angus was giving them, they could only turn and go back to where they came from. With huffs, they glared back through their helmets, which Angus had forged years ago with the skill of a master.

I thanked him profusely, but he only swatted my hand away and went back inside to drink.

Indeed, I learnt his ways. I worked until I would drop exhausted. And I truly enjoyed it. The guards hated me, but they still had to come pick up the tools I made for them. They would come with absurd requests, each time more demanding, but I would manage to forge it all in time.

I was content with that life. It was not the best, but not the worst anymore.

But then, you appeared in that orb, Uriel.

Shaken, pushed through the gigantic doors of the palace, I was led to a big room. It was all decorated with artifacts I had never seen; I was watched over by multiple guards, who knew I eyed the windows carefully, intending to flee.

How could I not want to escape? I was just told of my fate. Of you. I was going to be stolen from everything I had, pushed to an abyss that would lead me to your world… and to my death. I was sure I would die by your hand.

He was sure of it too. I trembled when he crossed the door of that room, where I was held at in wait of my sentence. He was carrying something, tied tightly at his belt. He greeted me again, after years of silence, with a tone that hinted pure disbelief and bitterness.

“Of all people, you are the one to descend.” He shook his head with an angry smile, glaring. “Who would’ve thought?”

In that moment, we weren’t so different. Our features were very similar, slender and tall. His face was like mine, but his eyes still held that arrogance of his. Our wings, of the same size, but his were smoother and lean, while mine were open and spiked. My stance, defensive; his, prideful and furious.

I spoke to him, snarling with impotence and anger.

“After all these years, you come see me, only to mock me before my death?”

He snorted at that, silently. He shook his head, one of his eyes hidden behind his black hair.

“I am not that spiteful, Alexis.” It was the first time he said my name, the first time he acknowledged my existence. “I still hope you keep your life. It might have a meaning after all, a purpose.”

“It is all about usefulness to you, isn’t it?”

“All angels must be of use to the world. Not only ours.” I was surprised to see him outstretch his hands towards me, with what he had brought with him. “Take this, and prove you are worthy of my blood.”

He laid the sword on my hands, without permission. Staring at it, I felt the weight of his eyes again, the implications of my birth. His words were harsh, even if his voice never rose.

“All before us two, all have achieved something in life. All this time, I’ve seen you fail at what our ancestors excelled. A legacy of warriors, killers of devils and wrongdoers. A bloodline of wise men and women, teachers of our history and tradition. You can still be part of it.”

I unsheathed the sword, slowly. I stared at the runes, the markings… The relic that had been passed down from father to son for centuries, he had given it to me now, only because he saw the chance of redemption in me.

I did not want that. I did not want that sword, or his offer. But I took it anyway. I did not speak again, not even when he taunted me for the last time.

“If you survive, if you slay that beast down… you’ll have proven me wrong.” He really did not have much faith in my outcome. “If not, may your soul find repose.”

I said nothing. I couldn’t.

That night was the last time I saw him, but it marked me like fire.

————

“I wonder what he would say, if he saw that his granddaughter is a demon, the very same thing he expected me to eradicate.”

“He… he can shove his opinion right up his-”

Alexis put a finger on Uriel’s mouth, hushing him. He pointed next to his own lips, nodding down to Aurora, who was soundly asleep.

“She can’t understand the word, Uriel. But we agreed to not curse.” He sighed, brushing his daughter’s blond hair fondly. “Though, yeah, he can shove it right up. I don’t regret anything.”

Uriel gave him a sympathetic look, having been listening intently.

“That he has failed as a father does not mean you will. You would never treat her that way. You do not think of her as lesser, just because she has not come to your expectations.”

“But what if I don’t reach hers? What if I’m still too weak to support her? She will be strong, fierce, and intelligent, just like Ariel. As a demon, she will look at me, and not see a trace of similarity. Her body will suffer changes I won’t be able to explain. She will be able to climb, to leap, to fly… and I will not be able to follow her.”

Uriel could sense his angel’s dread. Slowly, very carefully, he opened Alexis’ arms, and then laid Aurora there, for him to take back.

“I don’t think she will want to fly away from you.”

Alexis smiled up at him, thankfully, really feeling better with his unconditional trust.

“I hope so. I will have to wait to see. I’m really anxious.” He looked ahead while hugging her close, noting the sun setting down above. “We should go back. I can’t have her outside for this long.”

Uriel agreed, standing up first.

“Very well. But if you need to keep talking this out… we can continue inside.”

“I think I’ll be fine, for now. I… thank you for listening to my silly rambles.” He nodded ahead, carrying her with him. “Let’s go. Ayako could have come back already, and I don’t want her to yell at me.”

Uriel sent him a look, not liking him dismissing his troubles. But Alexis did not acknowledge his glance. He just looked down at those blue eyes, the only thing he could think of. Her gaze, it was such a simple yet complex thing to contemplate.

They both left that place, not looking back. At the gates, they crossed ways with Ayako and Ariel, who had just arrived from their stroll. Ariel was quick to run up to the angel, trying to get a glimpse of her sibling in his arms.

They all went inside, like if nothing had happened. Entranced by the comfort and safety or their home, they soon eased into the night, all staying in one room.

He had been played by fate, all this time. And he couldn’t avoid wondering… what twists would follow in his strange life.