Music recommendation: Sacrifice by Christopher Beck on Spotify.
Rasar Demon Fortress
In the dead of night, the air was crisp, with the occasional breeze bellowing the curtains from an open window. A cry broke out in between heavy breathing; a flushed woman lay in her bed, drenched in sweat, while two midwives shuffled around her in the chamber. Blood stained the white sheets around her abdomen and below, and her face was stricken with pain. She clenched her teeth to undergo another dilation as she released another blood-curdling scream as she was in labor.
The unforeseen circumstances disconcerted the midwives. She was in labor with a wound that triggered it. The distress in their eyes towards their mistress, when another demon soldier brought them in, was horrifying. No one foresaw the incident, especially when their master was away. They dreaded the outcome if he were present, and to see his beloved in such a state, they would surely perish on the spot.
"Mistress, you must push now!" the old midwife instructed; she positioned herself between the woman's legs. The other midwife handed the towels and warm water in a basin next to them in the room. She went over to their mistress and held her hand in comfort. Her ebony hair stuck to her face as she shook her head in defiance.
"Not without hi-iiAAAAGH!" The woman shrieked, shutting her eyes from the overwhelming pain.
"This child is coming, ma'am. PUSH!" The older woman urged. She could see the head was crowning, and there was nothing they could do to prolong the process. With wails and screams that reverberated through the walls, a small cry broke through.
The old ladies celebrated the newborn child safely delivered and managed to clean the baby swiftly. Bundled up in a silken blanket, they brought it to see its mother. However, the color of her beautiful face was paling, and the blood that began to spread across the bed didn't stop. She was dying.
"L-let me see my child," The worn woman spoke softly, her voice cracked. Her dull red eyes started to shimmer as tears streamed from them. She stretched her arms weakly as her strength was depleted.
The midwife was reluctant to give her the baby and wanted the healers to treat her first, but conceded in the end. Holding this bundle of innocence was a sight to behold. The bond between an arch demoness and an archangel was unheard of. The scandal was blasphemous. They succeeded in being together despite the sinful act that would send them to oblivion.
The woman held her newborn tenderly as she placed a gentle kiss on the top of the baby's head. She whimpered as the pain started to overwhelm her again, but it was worth it seeing its beautiful aquamarine eyes. She was grateful the child wouldn't inherit her red ones and took after the father.
She coughed weakly as blood trailed from her lips. The baby started to cry as if sensing its mother's distress. The older woman took the baby as she noticed her mistress wasn't healing on her own since archdemons were known as the most powerful beings in hierarchy. They were born with abilities of regeneration and fast healing. She held the newborn with care and angst in her red eyes. The severity of their mistress was worse than she realized.
The two demons in the room were quiet as the baby cried for its mother. The mother's head tilted to the side as she glanced at the beautiful creation she brought into the world. Her time in this life was close, and she understood there was no other way. She hummed softly to her child in assurance that seemed to calm the child momentarily. She turned her head back to see the closed door. Hope was in her eyes as she waited for her beloved to return. Her vision blurred as she was fighting to stay alive and see him one last time.
"My beloved…" she murmured, with an outstretched hand before it fell limply on her side. A mixture of sorrow and dread was etched on the demon midwives in the room.
Suddenly, the door burst open, and a tall figure with massive white wings unfurled stood at the entrance. Adorned in his celestial golden armor and helmet absent revealed his anxious expression; his piercing blue eyes bore into the woman who lay lifelessly on the bed, and the color from his face paled.
The Archangel dashed over to her and held her delicate hand in his. The dread that crept up his spine shook him at his core as he gazed at her beautiful face. Her eyes were closed but revealed the peacefulness of her pale complexion. As he leaned closer, placing his other hand on her cold cheek, he tried to sense life in her. The amount of love and adoration he had for her didn't come close to the sorrow and pain that blew open his chest. His entire world shattered.
He held her head gently close to his forehead as he closed his eyes, tears trailing down his porcelain skin, landing on her delicate features. The grief shook his shoulders uncontrollably as his wings curled over them, enveloping the couple in tenderness and sorrow.
The archangel didn't even notice the newborn wailing in the room, being lost in grief of his own beloved. He blamed himself for not being there for her when she needed him the most. He had failed to protect her, and now he lost the one thing that brought balance to his life—His midnight, the vastness of stars to his void of space.
Overwhelmed with the unsettling pain and grief, a new emotion reared itself. He noticed the wound on her side that wasn't healed and realized it was caused by a particular weapon only he or someone of his caliber was capable of. His brows furrowed as if he knew exactly who was responsible for the demise of his lover. He clenched his jaw tightly as his grief slowly burned to rage. The air in the cold room heated as the tension he invoked his fury.
The baby began to fuss as it relentlessly cried for its mother, The grieving man's wings ruffled as he turned to face the small thing. His eyes gleamed in gold. The two midwives were petrified by the sudden shift of the archangel, making him appear deadly. Too fearful to make a sound, they stood motionless as one of them held his newborn.
"Give me the child," he ordered, his voice low and intimidating.
The older woman, her fanged teeth chattering, and her form shivering at his command, peered down at the infant. She surrendered the child to the father hesitantly, swallowing her anxiety. From the look of his golden irises and expression, he bore no features of endearment. The two older women were terrified for the child's fate in his hand. However, his following words rendered them both speechless.
"Take the child away…"
His words stunned them, and he gave them a final order before they could claim the child. "Leave this place and never return…protect the child with your very lives. Pray they never find it or worse…I never find you," he added, peering down to his newborn with aquamarine eyes. His gaze lifted to meet the frightened women, and he knew they would follow this command. If not, the consequences were dire.
They hurriedly took the child and fled out of the room, leaving him alone with his beloved. He looked back to her form and clenched his chest as an ache began to pierce his chest, toppling off the bed and crashing to the floor. His body convulsed as the pain became excruciating. His magnificent wings started to change a shade darker to the point of black as his lover's midnight hair. He closed his eyes with anguish from the abrupt shift of his form. When he opened them, they were deep crimson. His emotions were more profound as his rage and sorrow began to course through him. With a harrowing roar, he thrashed at random furniture in the room to quench his fury, leaving the bed untarnished.
Another figure in black armor stepped into the room unannounced. Large black horns adorned the top of his head like a ram with wavy black locks combed over the base, his red eyes fixed on the raging angel destroying every object in the room down to splinters and torn fabric. The archdemon was stoic as he stood motionless, as if this were an everyday occurrence.
Sensing a new presence, the archangel shifted his gaze towards the demon at the doorway. His red eyes glowed with a tinged gold in his irises. He clenched his jaw, steam rolling from his lips as he spoke,
"Levi…"
The archdemon, Leviathan, wasn't fazed by the archangel's threatening aura. He held a face of indifference until he saw the arch demoness in the room; his expression hardened. He bowed solemnly.
"What are your orders, your eminence?" Levi enquired, his voice unwavering.
He rose to meet the dark angel's gaze. The man's glorifying white armor seemed to lose its ethereal glow, equivalent to his black wings that rested on his back. The archangel has fallen from grace and plunged to the depths in which he reflected his lover's death.
The room seemed to darken as dark wisps inked out of the crevices of shadows, coiling around the archangel as if it were a kindred spirit. The occurrence took Levi aback since that was the arch demoness' former power.
"This is war," the fallen archangel responded, his voice laced with hostility. The celestials brought calamity upon themselves for sending him to the point of no return.