My birth should have never happened. Not from a logical point of view.

You see, the world was never designed for my coming. Things were simple back then, much more traditional. All living beings had a reason for existing. Angels had been the first to be brought to life, the most divine. With their own land, they stood high in the hierarchy. Ironically, their lives in those times were only meant for one thing: to serve. And who, you may ask; well, the very same creatures they considered inferior and capricious, the second to arise. For millennia, they watched humanity grow from simple animals into an intelligent race, in their own little world away.

Mother had always loved to watch them, no matter when or how. She had always pretended to be cold-hearted, firm and stern. But I knew while growing up that her cold ways were only a lie. Her beautiful red eyes would glimpse at that huge void abyss, while she patrolled with her squadron around her small perfect world. A fine warrior she was, efficient and obedient. Her extremely long curly ebony hair would never tangle with her sharp spear, no matter what moves her huge black wings made while she trained. She was the epitome of what a warring priest was supposed to be, a machine made to endure a century of hardship.

How she dreamed of her duty then, what a simple view of the world she had. How prideful she felt when that ancient orb shined near her, after so many centuries of wait. Inside that thing, she saw the human world again, an invitation to serve in it. In those times, there were no demons to slay or hunt, there was no enemy; angels had one quest, one single duty in that world: to roam and guide humans for a century.

One single century, a whole life for a human, but nothing for them. Many angels had willfully dived into that abyss, to become pilgrims of a strange world. And all returned, once their time there was served, through a secluded portal, which was hidden for humans. Once back in their own world, the angels would glance again through that void and see the outcome of their influence. Temples, kingdoms, peace… they ruled over humans both directly and indirectly.

She wanted that glory. It was a simple task, which only the strongest were granted. She said no word of gratitude to the priests as they handed her spear, she did not look back or need to be guided to the void. She was made for this. Mother was always calculative, direct; it was something that defined her.

When she descended, she did without doubt. But nothing would prepare her for the wonder that humans were. Unlike angels, they had no bounds, no coldness. They struggled, they weren’t as strong. Many of them had followed the ways angels had taught them, but not all of them. As she began her pilgrimage, she finally saw why they willfully fell. Poverty, sickness, and death.

Death, the thing that elders always spoke of, but which they rarely ever experienced. She saw many die; she saw war, in lands were humans ignored their guidance. Only a few angels roamed the human world at a time, and her presence always caused a reaction. Soldiers would drop their weapons in her presence; the bloodshed would halt instantly as she marched in between armies. Her very eyes could silence, her steps would part the crowds.

Not only death surprised her. Birth, something angels struggled for. Their race did not share the love these creatures held. She would look with confused wonder, at the groups she would pass by in the towns. The oldest of men would tell the youngest to look at her with admiration and respect. They were many, and all desired her guidance; be it her wording of the scripture, or some aid with the sick. All spoke to her humbly. None of them demanded coin or gold from her, for they all feared the rage of her deity, her own anger.

Humans submitted to angels, without question or resistance. Wherever she went, she would try to face the struggle her duty was supposed to bring, yet humans would always hand her offerings, and bow to her every need.

That was why she marched away from the towns, from the cities. However, she still held her views, ideals and believed in her duty. She roamed the world, and she would do so for one hundred years. She began to seek the oldest of shrines, where no one roamed. The forests were more beautiful in this world; there was more life than in the barren land she knew.

Yet it seemed that not even in the most secluded of forests she could avoid humans.

That day, she served a human, indeed, but one that changed her. That day, in the night, she met father. Her figure tensed when she heard an echo through the woods. Her wings opened a little, while her hands clasped her spear tighter. She recognized the sound of a scream, alarmed and scared. It was a man.

She moved swiftly when she discerned the sound of a beast, a feral animal running fast for prey. There was no hesitation as she cut any branches that loomed in her way, she flied between trees. She was a shadow, clad in grey and red robes. She reached the human fast, and the animal that had him cornered. When she soared into view from the shadows, she was a miracle in his eyes.

The eyes of the human had been full of fear as he tried to be small against a tall slope, cornered by a huge bear. But then she appeared. His eyes opened with the most relieved of shocks, when two black wings loomed against the starless sky. The bear forgot about him, to face a threat it had not perceived coming. She looked like a beautiful angel, even when she moved ferociously. Her hands twirled her long black spear, as she circled the bear before it could lunge. The animal was stricken with fury, but her expression was still as calculative and calm as it could be.

As she took back her spear from the dead animal, she finally looked at him. That moment was what sealed my father to her. A fool he was, for trying to become a hunter; a bigger fool, when he swore to himself to never leave her side, the one who saved his life that night. Mother blinked blankly when he let himself slide off the wall, to bow on the ground to her. She gave him the same dismissal she gave to every human she aided, even though he was claiming great praise to her feet.

“Thank heavens! I thought the bear would rip me apart. I was sure I could face it, but I lost my dagger.” He exclaimed, his young voice inexperienced. Looking up to her, he only saw perfection. “How can I thank you, angel?”

She did not care much for humans if they were not in need; it was not her concern, she had nothing to prove if they were safe. However, she still took some time that night, to question the ways of this young man.

“You tried to face a bear… with a dagger.”

He stood up a little from the ground, to give her a flustered glance and a sheepish smile. His brown eyes were naive and innocent, but determined and confident. He exclaimed again, with the same zealousness all humans showed her.

“I know it was foolish of me, but you angels forbid the common folk of holding stronger weaponry.”

“We know…” She looked again at him, pitying his feebleness. He barely had grown some stubble, or had much muscle. “The hunters deemed that the bear had fled far enough. But I knew it would come back; it always came back to kill the sheep. I had to chase it.”

“And become sheep yourself.” He flinched when she insulted him while moving her spear away. “Be grateful that I was nearby tonight.”

“I am, oh high angel!” He said that while bowing again, letting his head touch the earth. “I am truly thankful! Forgive my disobedience to the elders of the town, please.”

For once she smiled a little. She turned slightly, looking over her wings. Her eyes glinted in the dark while she spoke; giving him a view he would hold for many years.

“Though… maybe it was a gift from fate that you led me to this bear. With it dead and you alive, I have made a good deed.” She began to walk away, using her spear as a walking staff. “Do not remember me by what you all call us; you may remember that the high priestess Reut walked this land, to keep you humans from a feral animal.”

Mother was really prideful in those ages. She walked away from father, and kept doing so when he called and chased.

“Wait!” She did not even look down at him while he tried to keep her fast walking pace. Looking up at her with adoration, he dared speak to a being any other would let walk away. “High angel, please-“

“High priestess Reut.”

“Reut.” She did move her eyes to glare at him when he omitted the rest of her hard-earned title. He was looking up at her with hopeful eyes, marching at her side. “I have not done anything to thank you, not even a simple offering. Please allow me to welcome you into my town, there I can-“

He flinched and winced. Taking a step back, he glanced quickly at the spear that had dashed sideways in front of him to block his steps. Mother stopped him of saying more, while piercing him with her sly eyes. She was an angel, but she could be quite scary if she wanted. Any angel would be for a human.

“Human, I thank your offer, but I humbly deny it. You are free of praising our doings.” She moved away her spear, seeing him stay behind. “I am headed for isolated roads, where I may find travellers in need. Go back to your town, and live your short existence with more care. Act accordingly to what fate has dictated for you, farmer.”

He tried to speak to her again, but he had no chance. Standing there, he grew sullen, because her wings dashed downwards. She took flight swiftly, far too quickly for him to halt her a moment. That night, he had been gifted with the sight of a being he thought he would never get to see, heavenly and strong. Though, that being had been more beautiful that he had imagined. Even though she hid it well, kindness had glinted in her eyes while she took down the animal that cornered him.

He watched her fly above from below, far too human to follow her.

No matter what she thought, it would not be the last time she would see him. A few weeks after, she was not too far from his town. She had delayed in the region, for angels never felt the urge of time; she had eighty-three years left to spare in this world. Walking slowly with her spear, she threaded through a lonely road. The sun glinted on her dark-toned skin; her eyes were fixed on the orange-hued horizon.

His voice did startle her when it echoed in the distance behind her.

“High priestess!”

She halted her steps. For the first time in her life, dread began to glint in her eyes. Slowly, she turned, only to shiver when she saw the man running in the distance, towards her.

Father only ran faster when she turned again and walked at a quicker pace. She ignored him, but he still reached her, much to her annoyance. She questioned while he walked by her side, with a cold tone.

“Is your town crumbling under raging fires?”

“No, high priestess.”

“Do you require the angelic knowledge of strong architecture due to an incoming storm?”

“No, no storms. Nor any kind of dangerous weather.”

“Are faithless bandits raiding your homes?”

“Since you roam this region, all bandits have scattered to other lands.”

“Then, are you here to give coin for the lands I shall traverse?”

“I only have my dagger and my most necessary belongings with me, priestess. No offerings for the needy, I have to admit.”

She stopped sharply in the middle of the road. He smiled sheepishly and shrunk when she glared down at him, with fire in her red eyes.

“If none of those things are happening, then why in heavens do you disrupt the focus of an angel in pilgrimage?”

It was a sin to speak to an angel, all the more without reason. A sin that many human priests would punish gladly, if she so commanded. She wouldn’t though; she was not as cold as others.

Father pleaded with those hopeful eyes of his.

“Please, high priestess Reut, I want to follow your steps.”

“And why would you do that, farmer?” She was scolding; she pointed her spear to the distance, to his village. “Go back to your town, and take care of the crops fate trusted you with.”

She faltered when he looked down, shaking his head sadly.

“I would like to obey your command, but I can’t. The elders found out of my disobedience, and have ordered to seize my farm as penitence. It is a very strict rule, to never step in the duty of others. I can only leave to find a new task bestowed by fate.”

She felt pity while contemplating his loss. She frowned that day, she had to brush away the doubt that flowed in her mind for the traditions she was so proud of.

“They have followed our rule, indeed…” She pondered for a minute. He blinked when she turned around, to walk towards his town instead. “I shall speak with your elders, young man. An angel’s word is always obeyed; you shall take back your farm, and return to your home. Scripture tells of forgiveness, of the overruling of punishment when there is reason.”

She was about to walk away from him again, to go back alone. Yet he called again.

“Wait, I-!”

Both froze. He retrieved his hand instantly, paling. He had brushed the tip of one of her wings, and the faint touch had made her halt sharply. She was standing there, with her back to him, wings tensed and shaky. No one ever touched the wings of an angel, and god forbid a human did.

She slowly looked at her right wing. Her eyes narrowed as she relaxed them, overcoming her surprise. She glared back at him, noting the horror on his face, and the fear.

“I will pretend this offence has not happened, human.” His shoulders went limp; any other angel would have stricken him with a fiery hand right there and then. But she did not. “This could have meant your death.”

“I know, I apologize! But-!” He kept his head low, while he asked for what he had hoped to accomplish by finding her. “Please, I know I am nothing but a simple sinful man. Let me follow you; let me learn from your wisdom! I want to be your servant, your liege! I still have to repay you!”

“…Please.” His heart felt a sting when she looked away and dismissed his plea with disdain. “You are a farmer. You could not hunt a rodent, much less watch out for my needs. I am not letting a human like you, without deeds in his name, be my apprentice. You will be a nuisance, not any relief. I am going to speak to the elders, and you are going to return to your simple, safe-“

“Angels must guide humanity!”

She blinked and frowned. His tone had been commanding, demanding. She slowly turned again, red eyes aflame.

“How did you just speak to me?”

He faltered in his moment of bravery. She was now advancing towards him, ready to use her angelic coercion to put him in his place. However, he scrambled and took out a book from his bag. Her eyes went wide when he read from a page urgently, scripture she knew.

“All angels must guide the beings that roam under their high flight! If they so beg, let them walk under your wings, when you keep them over their heads! Do not let the storms rain on them, nor allow any arrows to pierce them! When lost, let them plea to you, for your wisdom! Let them follow; let them learn, for their simple lives to be more fulfilling and less meaningless! Let them aspire to hold some of the highness we reach!” He looked up at her eyes, which were narrowed with inner conflict. He then whispered the last words with a sigh. “Do not deny them your lead…”

She remained silent for a minute, calculative. Her wings rose a little over her head, darkly. She then spoke, with an accusing tone.

“You have stolen a book from the shrine of your town. I don’t even know how a farmer has been allowed to study these runes.”

“I have sinned, yes!” He closed the book and tried to seem humble. “Maybe I really need your teachings! Correct my mistakes; don’t punish them!”

She stared at him, mouth open. The man was a true fool, but she had to admire his sly thinking. Only with scripture in hand would an angel listen to a human.

He yelped, because she snatched the book out of his hand. He moved an arm up to shield himself, expecting her fiery hand to cross his face… but it did not strike him.

Mother was reading the page, intently. She eyed father, without moving an inch.

“Do you truly want to invoke this verse on me, human?”

He understood her words. He bowed his head and affirmed solemnly.

“I do. I am at debt.”

She warned, piercing him with her gaze. Her wings batted subtly, stern.

“You would become a servant, a tool for my doings. You will have to walk for miles a day, feel the thirst that comes with fasting, and the coldness of the nights in the open. All your will shall be stolen, forever taken away, until I leave this world or you perish.” She felt a shiver, unable to imagine all that. She did not want to invoke that tradition. “Are you truly knowing of what this means, human?”

“I am.” He looked at her with a lean of head, which made his brown hair fall over one of his eyes. “I know we are lesser than angels… but please, do not doubt my knowledge of these words. I know what they mean.”

He was fixated with her, mother always told of his adoration, which was blooming in that moment. There was true fascination in his heart when she showed reluctance and empathy on her face. She tried to change his mind.

“But you-” She shook her wings, telling him off for his own good. “You’re a lower creature indeed; you can’t possibly fathom what your life will become. You will never have a home again, I will outlive you, and you will be buried in a land far from your own. Every possession you earn, it will be taken for the poor and sick. You will walk in temples, but will be seen as an instrument. Have you no fear for these things?”

“I repeat-” She wanted to groan when he reaffirmed his words. “You are obliged to listen to my plea. If I want to serve, you have to take me under your wing. You have to teach me of your ways, your traditions and-“

“I know perfectly well what my ways are!” He shut up, seeing her flustered for the first time. She quickly took a breath and brushed back her long hair, batting her wings down with a cough. “If it is your wish… so be it.”

He huffed, because she threw the heavy book into his arms. He stood there while she began to march ahead, like if he was nothing more than a stone in her path.

“Take this book back to your town, show them what I laid in it and tell them you are my novice now. I will wait for you at the feet of the mountains, find me there at night. Bring only the most necessary for travel.” She added, like if she pitied him. “You belong to the will of angels now…”

He said nothing. Slowly, his hands opened the book, while wondering what could possibly let him near the elders and excuse his presence. He stared at what laid inside, almost with fear. His fingers rested faintly on the black feather, dreading it could break with a single touch. He chuckled silently, always having heard that the feathers of an angel were too holy to ever touch. Yet there he was, brushing one. If he had been able to look at her in that moment, he would have seen her shake her head with a small smile.

He did as told. The elders did look at him with disbelief and shock. But he was allowed to return the book unharmed, and they let him leave without scorn. All because of a single feather, which no human would acquire on their own. He travelled towards the mountains, where she told him to meet her.

And she was there. He found her at the shade of a tree. And the sight was heavenly. She stood up with elegance while he walked closer. With her head high, she spoke again, with that deep soft voice that enchanted him.

“I was praying for you to think twice.” She held one fist against her open palm, glancing at the sky with a tired look. “It seems fate has other plans…”

He smiled while brushing his bristly hair, eyeing her shyly.

“So… What now?”

She gave him a look, examining. She really looked frustrated while she explained out of obligation.

“Now, I guess I should know your name, considering there will be many humans in my path. I can’t order you around while calling you by what you are, be it human or farmer.”

“Adalwin.”

She found the name ironic, so she shortened it to make it less so. He was not a friend, and there was nothing noble in a farmer.

“From now on, your name shall be Adal.” She began to move, unstoppable. “We’re headed for a temple. Carry my spear; I must not enter it with a weapon in my hands.”

He huffed when she threw it at him, surprised by its heaviness. He mumbled to himself, sweating.

“…You don’t want to carry it inside the temple, but does that mean I have to hold it while going there?”

She had given it to him to amuse herself. She wondered how much time would he last by her side, and what scripture would she use to excuse his parting.

She expected him to reconsider, but he did not. He followed her through every road, every field, and over every mountain she walked on. She could not take flight, and had to wait for his steps; flying was not something she needed, but which inability annoyed her in his presence. In those days, she wanted him gone. But he would not falter. In the next city they walked in, she made him wait for three days in the open outside the temple, alone. When she got out from the holy building, he was there, waiting eagerly for her, as enthusiastic. While they traversed the hills for the next region, she did not give him any food, but the task of finding nourishment both for himself and her. She was honestly surprised when he returned with much more than she imagined; he had been lucky to find an apple tree a mile away, hidden between cliffs. She tried to exhaust him when they took a boat to cross a huge river, commanding him to row alone. He managed, tired, but managed to bring her to the other side.

She found herself admiring his stubbornness. She did not know why back then, but after some time, she acknowledged his words and wonder. She told him of her traditions; she fed his curiosity, and let him enter in the next temples they neared, as long as he was silent. His questions would have been blasphemous, but she answered them in the night, near fires he would light.

“How is your home?”

She eyed him. Only the highest of human leaders could ask that question. Yet after looking at his pretty eyes for a while, she answered while looking away at the sky.

“High.”

“Wow, is it so simple that you can define it with a single word?” He had joked again. She glared once more, sharply. He bowed his head low and apologized, like many other nights. “I know, I know… I will write ten pages of runes to repent for this offense, I know how it goes.”

She sighed, and before he could grab some paper and ink to tire himself, she kept talking. It made him halt, seeing another strange expression in a being that should never show it.

“It was high, in so many ways. Nothing simple, Adal.” He lowered his hands and listened intently, while staring at her longing eyes. “Everything had meaning. No action was without reason. At morning the bells would ring, the priests would march and extinguish the lights of the night. The soldiers would always stand on the white and golden towers, watching for our peace and competence. The workers would give their all to turn the most basic of things into the most perfect craft. All sought perfection, everything was planned.”

“You miss it.”

“No. But yes.” She sat with her legs crossed, facing him. She explained, while brushing her long spear in her lap. “It is my duty to roam this world for one hundred years. I must experience your ways, and learn from them. You are wild, unpredictable, selfish, volatile; fragile… you act in ways we would never think of. You even let your hearts suffer while indulging in emotions that should be controlled, like sorrow and anger.”

“What about love?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, he looked slightly away.

“What you humans call love is something rare. It may happen, but I find it strange.”

“You have never loved?” He laughed, looking up. “What, isn’t there any lucky angel up there? No handsome wings which catch your eye?”

“Adal, be quiet before you regret it.” He did. She tapped her spear, explaining with a solemn look. “Angels do not unite just because they wish so. When angels marry, they do so in hopes of making their lineage grander. A priestess can marry a soldier. A farmer could marry a seller, and so on. In fact, when I fulfil my duty and return to my home, I may marry myself. The elders will honour me, by granting my family the right to bond with another high one; we will be one.”

“You won’t even meet the guy before compromising?”

His disbelief was blasphemous to her.

“We do plan beforehand, Adal. We do not choose moments beforehand. My family has had ties with another one for centuries. I might know already to whom I will be tied.”

“And you know him a little bit, right?”

“Does it matter? We are not like humans, we don’t need to ease ourselves into a relationship with what you call courting.” She coughed, and then fixed her eyes on her spear. “But I do know him a little. He seems… nice. He has served himself here, his lineage is grand.”

Father was sullen that night. She raised her wings and hid her figure behind them, only letting the stars gaze down on her.

She did not understand love, not after many years later. She was cold, but the ice around her heart had been melting. One year, while roaming a region with many heathens, she saw death again. Father was mortified, while she looked with her head high; a group of bandits had been caught by the soldiers of a town, and were being lined for riddance.

Father remained silent in front of most of their deaths, by sword, knowing that they were being slain for the acts they had committed, like murder. But one, one had not killed, only stolen. While pulled towards the block where his head would be cut, he yelled, proclaiming that poverty forced him, that he had no choice.

The punishment was the same, for that man had joined a group that ignored every single scripture. The priests were following the rules set by her race, as commanded. She tried to not falter when father whispered to her, while they watched behind the crowd.

“He does not deserve the same fate.”

“He has joined every raid, he is but a sheep. If he has no will to turn away from those sins and lets them happen around him, he is as sinful as them.”

“But he has not tainted his hands with blood, only the crime of thievery.”

She had to take a deep breath and straighten her wings, seeing the man be pushed onto the block.

“It is law. Let heavens judge him.”

“What good will that do?” She looked down at him, frowning. He was scowling, questioning her. “Look at him, and tell me he is as sinful as your books tell. Say that he deserves the fire you foretell in death.”

She did look. The man wasn’t ferocious, nor a savage like the others. He wings lowered a little, while he whispered what he truly thought of their rightfulness.

“You teach that you’re high, but you can’t even judge equally. The trials you cast onto humans are not fair, you never show any forgiveness, no matter how much you preach of it.”

Some years ago, she would have put him in his place. She would have told him to be silent in the presence of a higher being. She would have punished him for questioning their grandness, for daring to speak against their authority. But then, she only had eyes for that sword, which was rising over the bandit’s neck. She saw a human, indeed.

For the first time, she acted like angels praised to do, like only a few did. Father barely saw her move. He saw a flash of black and red. When he looked over the crowd again, mother was at the centre of it all. Her wings had extended over everyone, the executioner himself. Standing tall, her hand still flamed, crushing the remains of the sword that had inched close to that neck. She eyed darkly the bandit while commanding at the frozen crowd.

“Let him go, and do not leave a single scar on his skin.” She warned the man, who cowered under her imposing figure. The regret was in his eyes, which she saw clearly while piercing him with her gaze. “Leave this land, and seek for more peaceful grounds. Do not ever let your needs tempt you into thievery again, or these angelic eyes will forever haunt you. You will be cursed to the fieriest afterlife, if you dare taunt my mercy.”

The crowd parted around her and bowed before her feet. The man began to back away, forced by her cold stare. She only lowered her fiery hand when the bandit left town, to never near again.

No one stood as she walked back to father. He had not bowed, but a respectful grateful smile had grown on his face as he gazed upon her. She passed him by, whispering.

“Do not speak of this in any temple we enter.”

He just nodded, and then followed her steps. They both left, neither regretting having stepped in between. Though, she did question her stance, her former choice.

Love has many ways to show. She had seen the most compassionate of its forms in his eyes that day. It kept her awake for many nights, as she gazed into the sky. She prayed, she meditated, but she still could not feel it or invoke it in herself. She knew she had it, but no matter how she tried, she could not examine it or feel it at will. It was foreign, it scared her, but it fascinated her as well.

With time, she surrendered. No matter how much she meditated, she did not comprehend the emotion. Sitting awake under the moon, she asked one night, while her wings brushed the ground sadly.

“Adal?” He had been awake too. His eyes opened and fixed on her, as they always did. She asked, while staring at the full moon. “What does love feel like?”

He sat up a little. For the first time, she seemed to be the apprentice; an angel was asking a human one of the only things they did not know. If the angelic elders saw her in that moment, they would have cursed her fragility. Her wings were limp, defeated; the angelic tradition she had always followed could not answer this. It was supposed to be perfect, but it failed to do this simple thing.

He had the answer; so he spoke like if he knew everything of it.

“Love is… an emotion you can’t ignore. But you can’t give it reason.” She looked at him, and realized his eyes were fixated on hers. His expression was one of true longing, but of resignation as well, sorrow. “It is a blessing, and a curse. You can’t get rid of it without suffering. It forces you to act in the strangest ways, which you can’t possibly imagine. You find yourself pulled, tied. Yet, at the same time, it can keep you from acting for it. When you love, you have only one thought, the one you are fixated in. You would do anything for them, even if it means hurting yourself… or suppress your own feels.”

Both stayed quiet after that. She was forced to look away from those eyes, because something that scared her flowed in her. She laid a hand on her chest and took a deep breath, trying hard to bury something she had not felt before. She peeked in between her feathers at him, fearfully, and realized he had turned to not look at her as well.

That night, it dawned on her that this journey was truly dangerous. Something that she had not expected was haunting her, in a way she did not know how to fend off. It was something that no angel had faced before, something unholy.

But at the same time, part of her felt fascination for it. Part of her whispered that it was something beautiful, even if strange.

For a long time, she truly suppressed those thoughts. They were blasphemous. She was an angel, a being far too high to dwell in such things. She could not; it would be a sinful act, unheard of.

For another year, she hardened her heart.

They had travelled in many places of worship, all of them in which human priests reigned. One day however, they reached a grander temple. There, angels walked and ruled over many humans. When she set foot in it, she felt at home again. The angels that served their time in this world gathered there, to discuss their rule. She was welcomed grandly, with the most well-crafted of robes and priestly gifts.

But him… he was shackled. As the human guards welcomed them, they quickly noticed father. When they pulled him to a side where all the servants roamed, it dawned on her. All the humans that served the angels wore very humble clothes; they wore thick bracelets on their wrists, which could not be opened again. They were expected to not look up to them, not even raise their heads as they walked near them. The angels would look down at them, and command them the most demeaning of tasks; multiple scribes would write the ramblings of proud angels, who spoke of meaningless actions.

And he… he did those things, without question. He let the guards put him the bracelets, he wore the robes that made him less than a slave, and kept his head low in the presence of the angels. In her presence.

She tried to ignore it. All did. No angel batted a wing for all that. But she did. She really tried to accept their customs… she tried.

All angels and their servants left the temple in time, but she did sooner. Father followed down the tall steps of the white temple with his head low. As soon as they were out, she lashed out. He flinched when she pushed off his hood with rage in her eyes. He winced when she grabbed one of his wrists strongly, for he had seen how angels disciplined their subjects. He had been eased into submission, and he had nothing but that for her. Her hand did glint with fire, but not onto his skin.

He felt confusion when she broke the bracelet with raging flames; her expression had been furious, but now she was crying with a frown. She stared him down, and while he looked at his free wrist, she demanded.

“Your other one.”

“What?”

She grabbed it herself. He did not flinch this time, even when she crushed the bracelet into pieces with her bare hand. She let go, and quickly walked away from the temple.

“Let’s go.” She batted her wings angrily, commanding. “And take off those robes you wear.”

“But they told me-“

“Now.”

He obeyed. He hoped and pushed off the tunic under him, revealing the travel clothes he wore under. He quickly jumped over the last steps to follow her fast pace, confused. He still acted humbly while he walked at her side, looking at the ground.

“Priestess, why did you break them? A servant must-“

“Reut.”

“…Yes, high priestess Re-“

“No.” He blinked up at her, because she yelled in frustration at him. “Just Reut! Not high, not priestess, not even angel! Call me Reut, heavens be dammed!”

He had never heard her curse. He gave her a worried look, as she tried to cover her teary eyes with her wings.

“What’s wrong?” He looked back at the temple, confused. “This place is holy, it is a grand sight. You wanted to come here; I learnt so many things, the rightful ways.”

“There’s nothing rightful in that place.” She took a deep breath and brushed her angry tears off with a wing, to look at him seriously. She hated that he lowered his eyes again, as soon as she tried to meet them. “Stop looking down.”

She lifted his head, much to his bafflement. She straightened his pose, stopping him of hunching to vow to her every move. She patted his shoulder, asking him silently to act like he did before.

“Anything they have taught you, forget it. No robes, no shackles, no looking down, you hear me? Do not vow to every single command.”

She felt relief after a minute, because after frowning, he smiled. He asked, with that joking attitude she feared he had suppressed.

“Aren’t you commanding me right now?”

Father saw her laugh for the first time then, softly. An angel’s laugh was something no human had seen, and he cherished the memory until death.

She looked into his eyes, loving the sight of their adoration.

“I may be doing so. But it is your choice to feel obliged.”

Mother had been a pilgrim all those years. But she wasn’t for much longer. Father followed her, but soon noticed that they were visiting fewer places of worship. If they did roam, it was to places in which more humans roamed, in need. She stopped speaking of scripture, to be more direct to her subjects instead. She would force them to stand when they bowed, and demand to be spoken without reverence. She found out she could find more ways to help that way, by stopping them from hiding their humble needs.

They did not seek many travels after some years. For she found out what love was.

My birth happened then, when she had let go of her ways, to cherish father’s indirect guidance.

When I was born, father noticed her concern. I was different, with fangs and claws. She had pushed away her worries while bonding with him, but with my sight, her doubt came back. What she did was something unholy, unthinkable.

Yet he guided her again. She held me and looked at him, and all her doubts left. Her wings wrapped around my form that day, without reluctance; so my father told me.

She gave me my name. The first, from a strange union, tainted in shadows in the eyes of others.

I was still angelic. My wings shined in the day like a starless night. In those days, my malformed wings had not shown yet. Only when I smiled my fangs showed, and the robes she gave me hid the claws. Only my sharp eyes hinted my true blood. Sharper than any other creature, two slim cuts of blackness in two voids of blood.

In my young days, I did not know much of my heritage. But as she took me to places humans roamed, everyone would bow upon me. Father was the only one who looked at me as an equal, the only human who would speak to me without fearful respect.

He taught me of many things; of her blood, of his, of his life, and hers. Mother would only lead silently, looking warmly at me.

Those were the happiest moments of my life. Young, without a clue of what my blood held or meant. We had a simple home, secluded of judging eyes. I cherished their company, their simple teachings, without scripture or more reason than to be kind. I learned to fly sooner than mother would have expected, thanks to the dares of my joking father, who taunted me to climb and use my wings. How she scolded him, for not following a protocol I had never heard of.

Those days… I miss them.

Time flows strangely for an immortal being. I reached puberty like a human would, but when I became a young man, I stayed that way. I would not age; I could not change, not in millennia. It dawned on me, and her, that time was cruel to humans. I watched my father weaken, grow sick. His body became feeble. No longer could he run through the fields chasing my flight. With every year, his beautiful brown hair became grey, as ashen as the feathers I would shed.

I learned of death, and so did mother.

While burning his body in a wooden pyre, she stared at the flowers she laid. They burned like him, fragile and short-lived. Her red eyes were dead inside, her voice was lifeless.

“You are the only thing I have left, Zelophehad.”

Her hold was zealous, wary. I did not understand that night.

Mother changed. She was not the same, but a sturdier form of what father had told me. Her heart became cold once more. Before, she had never told me of much angelic scripture, but after his passing, it was all she knew. She began to teach me things she had not done before; I heard of what angels were supposed to be, of her duty in this world.

She wanted me to follow her ways; without question. And I did, out of respect, out of obedience and love. I followed her to every shrine, I left great offerings I crafted myself on the altars; I neared the humans who bowed to us. We even flew over a sea to a new land, for it hurt her too much to look at our old home. We became pilgrims. This time though, she had shielded her heart; she looked coldly at the humans, and let them praise her without many words. She feared to feel love again.

I respected her choices… until I learnt of an omission in her teachings.

One night, I found her away from our new home. She had left the warmth of it to roam the hills. She was looking north, longingly, with tears in her eyes.

“I can’t leave…” She cried. The tears flowed down her face as she mourned. “I can’t take you with me.”

That night, I learnt something new. I knew mother had lied to me, she had never told me of her limited time in this world. She was looking north, towards the end of the continent. There, past a huge temple on a mountain, stood a dangerous coast, covered in snow and sharp rocks. Below, hidden, where only winged creatures could seek, a portal. The gateway every angel who served crossed, after one hundred years of servitude.

She looked at me that night, at what made us different. She looked with fear into my eyes, sharp and confused. She confessed to me, the horrible unholy act that was her love, her union with a human. She told me of why she had not let me near any angels, or any important temples.

She feared for me. And that was why she would never go back.

It hurt me. It made me furious. For years I had listened to her adoration for her ways, but there she was, telling me I could never aspire to accomplish them as other angels could.

If I was not an angel, what was I?

I did not care at that point. She swore that I was still something beautiful and holy, and that I should still act like it. But I could not care less. I feigned obedience… but I began to leave behind her teachings.

I was young, and flawed. I resented the world for taking away my father; I had nothing in my name after years of serving humans. It was time I acted for my own gain, for my own desire. I did not wish to please mother anymore.

For the first years, I followed. But when she did not look, I would let the humans bow to me. I let them give me grand offerings of food and gold. If those things would be placed to rot on altars, I preferred them at my feet. I always heard of the chastity of angels, but with her breaking those vows with a human, I would not follow the rules. I neared both women and men; I used my beautiful looks to enchant them, and my wisdom to tie them to my will. I would never harm them or use them, but did enjoy the pleasures of an earthly world. For them, I was still an angel, a heavenly creature that could do no wrong.

She found out eventually, when one of the women I bonded with had a child. It surprised me greatly, it scared me; but I took responsibility. The child was a young winged girl, with sharper claws than mine, two bones that peeked under her hairy wings. Mother found out of my disobedience when I flew away far too much, to give the woman and my child anything they may need. I tried to hide it, but she knew in time.

“What did you do?”

I was defensive, arrogant.

“Exactly what you did!”

“You haven’t even married her!”

“You did not marry either!” For me, she was a hypocrite. “You never celebrated a formal ceremony with father!”

“That’s different!”

“Tell me why exactly!”

“I was with him for love! You have bonded with humans for fun, for lust!”

“I do care for her!” I crossed my wings at her, letting out what I would soon learn to be a growl. “Maybe I do not share a bond as grand as you two, but I will make sure she and my daughter have everything they may need in life!”

Mother grabbed my wrist and yanked, to pierce me with her eyes.

“You have gone off-limits. You have broken every vow I have taught you. You can’t toy with humans like this, you should know better.” I smirked when she said the next words while holding one of my wings. “You’re grounded, here under my watch.”

I laughed, as she could not prevent me from taking flight. I would not let her use words she spoke when I was a child. I was stronger than her. She was taken aback when I pushed her hand off, with a single flap of that wing. I taunted her, and only years after I would consider how I hurt her.

“You can’t forbid me of leaving. I will not listen to your senseless ideals anymore.” I loomed over her, even though I was only slightly taller. My eyes were sharp, feral in that moment of defiance. “Look at you, forbidding me of something you did yourself. If you regret so much the outcome of a union between divinity and humanity… feel free to leave me behind. Go back through that dammed portal if you are so ashamed of me. I will not let you condemn the very thing that gave me life.”

As I towered darkly, she spoke, as firm, but more dreadful.

“Zelophehad, that is not what I-“

I did not let her finish. I took flight, swiftly.

Every time she tried to near me, I smelled her coming. I was different, I knew. Her scent, it made my eyes grow sharp. I avoided her, angered, frustrated. She could not find me in the dark, and if she did find me in the day, I would push her and her traditions away. I did not listen to her swears of love, I did not care how much she swore we were the same.

I loved this world and its pleasures, and her promises of grandness did not flatter me.

I took care of that woman until she passed; I hid her and the child away, knowing I could not explain to other humans. I took that child under my wing. I was fascinated by the changes she suffered; her wings were more feral, more animal-like. I taught her of our origins, but I was pleasingly surprised to see her yearn for freedom. She listened to the instincts I had discovered; she wanted to follow her own paths.

And I let my child go, after a century of seeing her become her own person. Proud and arrogant, I admired the lands from the heights. Every kingdom, every town, everything was a plaything for me to enjoy. I was an apex creature, unchallenged, high. I visited many places, and everywhere I was seen as a king.

For centuries I roamed. Humans that were blind and followed mother’s ways were only playthings in my eyes. The ones in need, I would still help, but after hearing them beg. I flirted to my heart’s content, but only advanced in a bond if I had no partner alive. I was faithful, for as long as a human life would last.

Six centuries, five daughters. Every single one was different. The first had hairy wings and secondary bones on her back. The second had been slender, with scales to go along her wings. The third, she had no wings, and only the spikes on her back hinted the remnants of her heritage. The fourth, she had fur, growing all over her back, a substitute for her wings. And the fifth… the fifth had skin as rough as oak, tough as steel.

All that… it hinted what I was becoming. At first, I noted a faint itching below the base of my wings. It was nothing; I saw no wrong on my skin then. But it hinted what would emerge. In a few years, feathers began to grow erratically on my back. I pulled them out, and pretended nothing was wrong. But it was wrong, it soon dawned on me. Two thick sharp bones began to push out of my skin, gradually, right under my wings. I trashed in the nights, the pain prevented me from roaming for a whole year. When they broke through the skin, they did so with many feathers, but none like I had seen before. Torn, twisted and malformed, what would have been a second pair of wings, peeked under my first. They shed feathers usually, bloody and sickly. I hoped for them to grow completely, for them to gift me the honour of becoming a being with four wings… but I was disappointed. After years, they remained like that, as if it was a mark that would hint my tainted blood. No more could I hide my claws under gloves, they sharpened too much. My fangs were more noticeable. My whole body was turning on me, like if the acts I committed reflected on my looks.

For me, all that I did had no wrong. Yet the humans around me acted as if I was vile. I was horrified when they began to show wariness for me. No longer saw their admiration and adoration. They did not bow out of wonder, but out of fear. They still called me angel, but whispered darkly behind my back. I could no longer tempt humans to bond with me, my eyes were too sharp, and my wings unnatural.

All those changes… they took the attention of angels. Mother had kept me well hidden; no human had spoken of me to them. I was one of them, something not to be alarmed of.

Then… rumours had spread, of a dark angel, black as night. Impure, it loved to tempt humans, and take everything from them. Even though I had stopped indulging in their gifts that was what they said. With so many centuries passed, my daughters had carried their own lives. They had moved away from me, with their own bonds. I had grandsons, granddaughters, all too different from me, tainted with human blood. All was out of my control.

I warned a few of them, I told them to be wary, to not roam… but only three listened. Two, I did not find. And even if I could warn them all, how was I supposed to control the new race I had spawned? My lineage, it had spread, I had not spoken or lived with all of them.

We were called demons… even though we did no harm yet. Angels heard of us, but we were still only a few. Their concern was great; the ones that roamed this world had begun to report in their world.

Mother knew. She let me find her in my greatest moment of doubt, after so many centuries.

The first thing I said was sorry. She had her back to me; I could not see the disappointment in her eyes. I was shocked when she turned and I saw her smile, sadly.

“As your father said… sometimes, we can’t keep ourselves from being pulled, dragged closer. Humanity does that, doesn’t it?”

I did not know what to answer.

I stayed by her side from then on. But my actions had no reversal, no matter how much I tried to change my ways. It was not in my hands anymore. I was not my life what was going to start a war, but my descendants.

We spread like a plague. I can never deny that. Our blood could mix with humans, which lived in great numbers. What was worse were our changes. We evolved; we changed, with every generation. In only a few centuries, we were everywhere.

Our presence was undeniable. And it was harmful. I cried, when I heard that some of my progenies had become nothing more than savages, using their strength and superiority for their gain. Humans began to die… and I could do nothing but hear of it. I tried to stop it, but none of those demons saw me as their progenitor, as someone to listen to.

Angels met us at last. And it was not something that brought peace. It only brought death.

Death, it began, but in a rate this world had never seen. The wildest of demons felt a dangerous wonder for those winged beings called angels. Angels could see no difference between demons, and slew any they found, innocent or not. Angels were attacked, demons were slain, and humans were in between. One day, when blood had spilt in every region, the world trembled. A seismic quake shook the land, as if something was tearing its core apart, as if the land was weeping. When it ended, the killings continued. Evil demons roamed, claiming supremacy, both over humans and angels. Mother heard that the times of servitude had ended. The tradition had changed; the orb did not shine with the same meaning anymore. Every time it glowed, it would send an angel to end one of my offspring.

The angels that had fallen to this world to serve for a century returned above, with a warning. It was a mistake for me to have felt proud of my heritage. I taught my daughters many things; I never hid why I lived, or who was my bringer.

They came; they dived to the world, not to serve it, but to cleanse it.

Mother was a prideful angel, loyal to her kin. She had nothing but devotion to her ways, to her brothers. Yet she had understood my terror when our descendants were killed. She saw me cry when I found many demonic settlements destroyed. We both tried to endure the bloodshed, in our own ways.

I was trying to protect my race, by helping them from the shadows. Little I knew that she was trying to protect me.

One night, she sent me away. She told me to fly over to the next region, for she was sure a huge storm had begun a fire there, which destroyed many homes. Some demons lived there, humbly, in reclusion.

I trusted her. She lied to me. And it stole me from the only thing that still tied me to her kind.

I flew, as she asked of me. I searched, but there was no fire. The forests were as green as ever, no storm had stricken this place. There were no burnt homes, no destruction.

Then I knew she had wanted me away. I flew back, fast, thinking of her face when she asked me away. It was an expression of resignation, of acceptance. She knew that war could not be prevented, that she could not keep it away from us.

When I returned, I did not find her in our home. I searched for her, trusting my unholy nature. When I found her, it was with the sight of something that changed me. Angels called it a trial, but I saw no justice in it. Many angels had gathered near a shrine; their armours were grand, of the highest standing, golden. They were not like the angels mother had seen in this world, but warriors. Even some elders were there. For what, I soon saw.

I froze when I saw the scene from some cliffs. My eyes went wide, as I saw mother there, facing an angel who mocked her, who spoke bitterly to her.

“Look at what you’ve done, Reut.” Those judging words were the first I heard Philander speak, what truly laid under his smiles. “And to think I once considered our union…”

She smiled at him. He had been an old acquaintance, someone who had seen her train to be honoured with this duty. All that was gone, for both. She was smiling, even though she was kneeling, with a longsword near her neck.

“I look at all I’ve brought, and I see something much more beautiful than your ways.”

Philander snarled while looking sideways, and then commanded his first bloody sentence against my blood.

“Slay this blasphemous creature.”

I ran. I soared.

Yet… I was too far, I was too late. When I reached them, screaming, the sword had gone down already. The angels looked away from her as she dropped dead, startled by my desperate call, surprised by a roar. Philander had not been the one to slay her, and sadly, he was not the one I brought down.

My claw moved up, and like some angels, a deadly spell tangled between my fingers. My grief was great; I only saw evil in them. A light sparked in an instant out of my hand, as I landed in between them.

The executioner let out a scream, which would haunt every angel present until their deaths. A multicolored blast of energy cast on him, with dark hues on its cold flow. Like a mirage, it was gone in an instant, but it did its damage. The angel’s skin was burned, melted. Half his body had been blasted to nothing more than gore. He was crumbling down, still alive, screaming as he convulsed and died. No fire remained on him; it was a single strike, ferocious and destructive. A joke of what angels had invoked on some of my most evil of descendants.

Like them… I could destroy, in an instant. My blood was grand, closer to theirs.

The horror was evident in their eyes. Philander had nothing but hate for me. For a moment, our eyes met, and in that look, I could swear I could see a promise, of my death. He was the first to take his weapon, his golden shield. All the rest followed, more warily, while he proclaimed.

“This is her first spawn! This is the creature she has created! Look at what it can do! It has brought nothing but a vile plague, what has been tying angels to devils, what has tainted the meaning of our sacred orb! Thanks to this demon, we will never fall for the same reason! It only brings death, to us and our subjects! Like its tainted mother, it-“

“She is not tainted!”

Philander had a taste of my rage that day. He gasped when I lunged at him, after taking a moment to retrieve my mother’s spear. He barely dodged my stab, which pierced one of his red wings lightly. His ego stricken, he countered with his shield. I stepped back as electricity flowed through the golden metal, all through his shield, out of his hand.

He commanded, wary of me and my unknown power.

“Kill this beast already!”

All angels turned on me. I was outnumbered, and I had no clue how to invoke that spell again. With tears in my eyes, I looked at her, what they had done to her body.

I could do nothing but scream one last curse, a promise.

“I’ll end you, you hear me?!” All angels took a step back, as I roared with the spear in my claw, my four wings wide open. “I’ll kill every single one of you, until none of you is left in this dammed world!”

They tried to cut me, but I took flight.

They chased. I took preventive measures. Glaring through tears, I looked at my claw. Then, I looked over my black wings. They stopped chasing when I managed to invoke that spell again, which flowed out and hit one of them down from the sky. The gore fell onto the trees below with a torn golden armour.

Smiling, I cherished the view of that blood. My fangs clashed in a smile as I watched them retreat, fearful of my bloody eyes. I smelled the gore; it made my blood pump fiercely. I… liked it.

Faster than any of them, I flew away.

I flew for days. I only stopped when a storm loomed over my wings, which soaked them. I still refused to land, only having eyes for the horizon. I did not want to stop, I did not want to land and let go of the adrenaline. I would have to dawn on what had happened, on what I had lost.

The rain was stronger.

I did not land, but fall. Avoiding trees and cliffs in my descent, I hit the ground strongly. My mother’s spear landed a few feet away. I looked up from the mud and dust to look for it, and then I saw it. A small cave, where I could seek refuge.

I crawled towards it, miserable and exhausted. The tears would not stop falling. Supporting myself on her spear, I only let it down after I reached the darkest corner. I kneeled there, vision blurry. I held up my claws closer to my face, shaken. My haunted eyes stared at them, noting the nails, the inhuman beastly traits that sentenced her fate.

With rain and tears on my skin, I wept with a shaken whisper.

“I’m sorry, mother.” I looked at myself, at those cursed ashen wings. I only saw a devil, reflected in the water at my feet. “I tried… I really tried to change my ways.”

There was no light I could see, not in myself, not around me. It was raining, fiercely. Outside, there was nothing more than a bleak pour of blackness. It reflected my emotions perfectly, a hateful sorrow that consumed me.

I screamed into the night. The region feared my roars for months. That day, a dangerous demon awoke, and the most horrifying part was who it was. I wanted to become their worst nightmare, I wanted to let go of any light in my heart.

I had vowed to shield humanity once. And then, I promised to bring as much destruction to it as I could. I swore to become evil itself, just to hurt the ones she had belonged to. If I could mock angels in any way, I would act accordingly.

Demons had not vowed to me before. But as I rose like a shadow over the angels I chased, they saw a leader. My spear, once holy, impaled any angel I came across. I took my mother’s heirloom, and changed it; I took the bones of many, and melded them into two curved points, which I fixed onto the spear. I held my new weapon proudly, a black trident made with fire. With it, I sought revenge. Demons began to follow me, as I raided any town unlucky enough to stand in my path. Some of them wanted retribution, for their innocent families; others wanted to be feral, to listen to their most primal wishes. I welcomed all of them; I let them walk behind my black wings. I riled up the strongest of my descendants, and I let them bring destruction around me. In just years, I had grown an army of devils, which sought supremacy, the subjugation of humans and the death of all angels.

I saw them tear down villages and towns. I heard them rip apart the men and loom over their scared wives and children while their houses burned. I killed many, with whom my father would have been merciful with, just to spite the angels. My smile was bloody, hellish; I saw them fly towards our massacre. I let my children go at them; I let them torture humans to lure them. The rage in those beings was beautiful in my eyes. I killed many myself. The things I did to some of those souls, it would have made my mother scream in terror and agony. My favourite pastime was to lock the most strong of them away, chains right through their wings, hanged; I would let them near starvation for a whole month, to then force them to keep living. When I became bored… I would let my men toy with them, feed on their blood.

I was a tyrant. Philander told no lies, I was a monster. The very same servitude my father gave to my mother once, I forced onto humanity. Many devils died at the hands of angels, who had learned of a deadly golden spell, haunted by what we did to humans. But it did not matter. We were too many. I killed any angel that wielded that spell, with my own.

I hunted every single angel who stood near my mother that day. They were elusive, the leaders of a foolish resistance. Many angels dived to this world to follow Philander, even though that orb did not shine for them. I killed every single one of them.

But him… he would always escape my wrath. He was evasive; he would not face me, but send me any angel stupid enough to follow his crusade.

Millennia passed. We reigned. I was king, the ruler of the most bloody of lands. My people considered me a prophet, I was their god.

But I was no god. I was sinful, and definitely not omnipotent. We found things, things that we should have never laid claws on. Angels were the creatures that could hold magic without boundaries, beings that could suffer no harm with it; they were made to wield it. We were not. We could use it thanks to their blood in our veins, but the humanity in us tainted it. Humans could not hold that power. When we found the most deadly of incantations written in their holy books, we studied them. I commanded for my army and my subjects to give their all for it. We soon learnt spells we never dreamt of. Fire, illusion, physical manipulation, the very winds… angels knew of all that, and we had the ability to use it to greater capability.

I should have known. I should have learnt from the pain in my wings that our mixed-blood was something not to play with. At first, I was contempt. With this power, I and my followers sent fear to every single living being. We raised high in the hierarchy, even over other demons, which we began to consider far too weak or cowardly to join our genocide against angels. We used the magic to protect ourselves, while we let others be hunted. We thought ourselves far too powerful to dwell in mortal affairs. We thought we could not die.

We were immortal… but I saw us become monsters.

My most loyal general had been the one to abuse the spells to the most extent. With every angel he killed with an agonizing unnecessary spell, he suffered a far greater change than our bodies would suffer on their own. He had been handsome once, he had shared the human looks I gave him; with every battle, the spikes that he had on his shoulders grew. His claws, they sharpened with each drop of blood on them, until the nails fused together in a bony amalgamation. His face, it twisted, he grew tusks… which ended up piercing his face and became pincers. He still stood on two legs, even though they had bent over. He towered, he grew in size, thanks to his skin, which had become an exoskeleton.

He was only one of the many I saw devolve. He was strong, and like his children, he endured the use of the magic. But others, others lost their mind. Beasts, all of them; they lost their humanity. I saw my lineage bond with simple animals, each generation growing more feral and less angelic.

We realized far too late that the magic had been a gift from the angels, who let us raid the temples. They had known what magic could do to us, and they let us hold it, to see us become things they could call beasts. They wanted to mock us, to make us different from them, as much as possible.

That is what I want to believe… perhaps to ease the guilt.

I was still the same. My mother’s blood flowed strongly in my veins. I watched from my throne, as with time, only a few of my followers stood beside me. My kingdom, it was dissolved. Many demons had turned into wild animals; the humans in the lands rebelled when they saw they could use their minds against them. I could have subjugated humanity again, easily; but I didn’t. My soldiers did nothing to stop the rebellion, for I forbid them of doing so. My dear Jarogniew, my most loved general and child, he pitied me while I mourned at my throne. I had become a joke of a king; I was nothing but a sullen man, who let his people be defeated. But he was still loyal to my choice. He had seen me rise against the murder angels committed against the innocent, and remembered the good I did in my evil. I was failing him and every single demon I had spawned, but he followed. I let the humans cast my people away, I was far too broken, far too tired. I had seen too much. Looking at a mirror was something I could not do anymore. I took my army, and let the core of my land become ruin. The angelic temples I had conquered and turned into the most grand of palaces became debris at the feet of humans.

I wanted the war to stop. Yet I could not call this conflict a war anymore. Only Philander and three followers of his remembered how all started by that point. The angels that followed the orb’s command were young, the sons of the ones killed. Knowing they could not cleanse us all, they resorted to kill the demons with whom they were bound. This world had become a stale bloody pile of mud, thanks to me.

The war was over. And Philander knew it as much as I.

I planned to let down my trident, but I wanted one last taunt, one last act out of spite. There was one last temple I had not been able to take over, one far too close to that sacred portal for me to near. The angels protected it.

I took my men there. I marched past human cities, this time only giving them fear. Unstopped, no angel came to me. We reached the temple, past a grand forest… and I understood why I found no resistance.

Only Philander and his three guards knew of the portal then. No other angel did. I entered the temple, and I finally saw the man who had riled the angels to take down my mother. I came just in time to see the dead scribes at his feet; his hand was fiery, ready to light the temple in flames.

In the dark room, he smiled at me blankly, like if he was glad to see me.

“All these years, you have been an elusive nightmare to grasp. Are you here to steal me of the last thing I can do to preserve our honour?”

No, I was not elusive. I had wanted to find him for millennia, I had wished nothing else than to rip him apart. He claimed to be protecting their heritage, yet there he was, burning what my mother would have gladly died protecting. He wished to go through that portal after erasing what those poor scribes had preserved: the knowledge of my rule.

My men lunged against Philander’s guards, who were the most dangerous angels alive, while I faced him. With the trident in my claws, and his shield in his hand, we circled each other. He glared at me with a smile full of pride, of joy; his voice was fierce, as if he had gone mad with the thought of slaying me.

“How I feared to leave without bringing you down, devil.” The yellow electricity I had seen the day mother died, it burst out of his hand through the shield, shedding light onto his murderous expression. “Heavens have gifted me with your appearance today. I will slay you after ages of wait, thanks to my prayers. I will cut the root of this plague, to make amends for all the death you brought.”

I shook my head at him, a far more wise man then. I only saw the madness, the rage I once held.

“Killing me won’t bring anyone back…”

At that moment, I realized that his death would not bring mother back, not even peace in death. The fury I had held, it had meant nothing. My expression was one of true regret, I had an epiphany. I was a shell of everything I had been.

He did not care; he wanted his pay in blood. I was still evil incarnate, I was the first devil. He had waited ages for the chance to slay me, and right before his surrender, I appeared before him. It was fate in his eyes for us to meet at last.

Our battle was fierce. But it did not last forever. My men had changed a lot with time. More beast than man, they had the intelligence of humans, but the force of monsters. Armoured with steel and their own bony skin, some had scythes for weapons, their own bodies. Philander’s guards were slain, dragged and ripped apart in the darkest of chambers. Their screams echoed to him, telling him he was alone. Jarogniew entered the room we battled in, towering with his looming spikes and four scythed arms. His eyes gleamed darkly inside his skeletal head, while he held the ripped wings of one of those angels. I frowned, as my child signalled to Philander with one single motion. He slammed the wings on the floor and let him stare at them. My old enemy faltered, but soon growled in rage.

Philander knew he was outnumbered. He sent me a look I would never forget, one of rage, of madness. He tried to burn the library. Fire crawled on the walls when he moved in a dash. He killed some of my men as he flew through, but I did not chase him. I looked at the books and ran to them as if they were the only thing that mattered. My general watched as I extinguished the flames, with my own wings if necessary. I dropped there, holding half-burned books and ashes.

Philander escaped, promising to stalk me until death. We settled in the temple, for we had nowhere to go, and I feared too much that he would near the chambers again.

No one but us roamed. Philander hid, evading my men, who settled in the hills and forest. I soon became a legend, forgotten. Our origin died with us. Every century, I cried in the nights, for the only company I had was disappearing. My children, the only ones who knew of my misery, they were succumbing to the repercussion of their careless use of magic. Beasts, they even began to lose their ability of speech. Nothing but screeches and hisses while they walked through the temple on their limbs. They stopped using robes and armour. They crept around me, like if I was the only thing they recognized. They were like dogs, animals I could command, but not truly bond with.

When they lost all their humanity, I was forced to give them the last command they would obey.

“Roam the forest. Don’t let anyone near this place.”

My general, now a towering beast of six limbs, leered at me. Struggling against his curse, he did something that hinted he was still there. He bowed, and then obeyed. Into the shadows they crawled, leaving the temple for me to roam alone. They became a plague in that forest, which they would not leave, for eternity. With them becoming animals, Philander claimed the hills near the temple. He killed any devil that dared try to stop him. He cast fear on them, and kept them in the woods.

Day and night, he would watch from above or below, and he would call for me to get out. He demanded me to lower the barriers, to face him.

“Face me, devil! Pay for all that you stole us!”

I would watch from the walls and towers. I always smiled and taunted him.

“In gold or silver?!”

He never enjoyed my mockery, which was the only thing that kept me sane.

“In blood!”

“Fine! Let me just shed some feathers from my twisted wings! They are as bloody as they can be!” I added, with a personal jab. “I can also go for one of the corpses of the scribes you killed! Or maybe I could search for mother’s body, if I knew where you buried her!”

“Do not taunt me, demon! Your sins are far too many for you to live with!”

“The scriptures speak of forgiveness! I read them, they are quite entertaining! Even the evilest of men should be given a chance to be remorseful!” I would always lay a claw on my chest, like if I was a disgruntled wife arguing with his husband. “Is your age affecting you, Phil?! Does time steal you from the memory of your own beliefs?! Is that why you want to reach these books so desperately?!”

He would curse me in a more serious manner, and then dash for the temple, shield in hand. He would never find a safe route from which to reach me.

It became a game, at least for me. I would look forward to his calls and yells, to me going to the towers to speak. With it, the sleepless nights could be endured. It was a stalemate… which would never end. Every century was the same, with no variation, no change.

But then, you came.