The early morning was mild, it was windy, was quiet, the early birds knew not what unfolded the night passed, and as people ventured through life, carrying on yet more duties for the new day, there was a stillness in the atmosphere, one that people of nature knew not feel.
The archaic castle had taking a new writing to his history, yet another drama, turmoil, fire, and death.
What was left in its ruins was a smoky aura, blood and tears hardened by the night's cold, smouldering rooms, woods, blades and bodies.
It was still, it was quiet, it was cold, peaceful foggy, It was scorch-y, and that very present allowed barely a glimpse of the past.
She was afraid, she was trembling, she was indecisive, but she was brave.
She bursted through the doors to an enlightenment that would whirl her emotion deeper than she could ever imagine.
She was ready for battle and turmoil, but what she faced shook her mind, body and soul.
She was numb, she was still, she couldn't accept, she couldn't believe that the love she knew was a love lost, one lost forever.
Torn out of her grip by painful reality, painful truth that was in death.
Her ferocity and confidence ripped out of her reach without mercy, without restraint.
The touch, the words, the love and kisses, the pleasure; she could only reminisce.
He lamented with a bottle of scotch whiskey labelled on its sweaty surface Ardbeg in his hands, he staggered through the counter and through the mansion, through its empty, it would have been silent if only he had known where his thoughts originated.
He never realized that the death of a foe could be so relieving, but still he was blue.
As he walked through the rooms and pathway, he could see him, he could see himself, he could see her, all three happy and disturbed, scheming and laughing, affronting and calming, to one another.
It was a figment of his imagination, one that came to life in his drunken extent, as shadows replaying events of the past, good and bad.
The fights, against one another and teamed up; the jokes and insults, ridicules compliments, the hate, the love the kisses, the endless emotions that caused them hesitation, wordlessness pain and even pleasure, and then the turmoil.
She could only wish that she had him one last time, for her reasons, for her guilt, her choice.
His hands, his presence his care and caresses, one last time.
To feel, to hold on to, to remember, to feel bliss; again, to feel loved again.
To cry, and weep, to apologize, to let out her emotions to his hearing ears than not, to tell him she loves him, that she forgave him, that she was wrong, to let him know it was all her fault, to let him know that there was, truly, light at the end of the tunnel, and to apologize that he wasn't there to behold.
To look him in the eyes, and see his love and desire as always, desire that caused tingles in her thoughts and skin, and in places she wished him taste.
To take responsibility, to cry, to fall, to say goodbye and to carry on... to grief, knowing the last she saw him, was the last it would ever be.
The last she'd ever see.
********************
He events of the nights before never left him, she strayed from his thoughts, as he drank, cried, fell, as he was berserk and numb.
It was new, it was twinkling, it was happening, replaying, right before his eyes, and he couldn’t turn it off, he couldn't forget.
It was hell in his subconscious and body, one drunk and shaking, conscious but cold, another was numb, weak, dreamy, like every bone in his legs had been replaced with rubbers, like every bone in his body was pulled off and milk put in its place.
And other parts of him countered that, it was angry, it was strong, it was vengeful, it was berserk and also enthralled by reality and truth.
There was no one but the un-living to harm.
Belphegor had convinced Jerold, had sparked in him a plan by his punches and kicks. He had pulled him from his gnashing and misery... and he did.
He rose to his feet, remembering words of past warriors, “but where life is more terrible than death, it is when the truest valour to dare to live”, with this was a new urge born, one that caused him to remember his purpose, to say that he wouldn't die a coward, he wouldn't die by his own hands, he'd better die in battle as real hunters do.
“So what's your plan” Belphegor asked hurriedly.
Jerold just smiled, he stared at him, he pulled out the red blade, the one stained with the blood of the Archangel, stained with the blood of the Michael.
“We battle, we fight... we hunt”
“You're insane, you're, you're, are you, that's not a plan, this is not DC huh, tis is the real world, there's no suicidal squad here... not me”
“Please demon, what then should we do?”
He mumbled, pacing the room, his shirts his slacks itching him on, his body removing waters, around his necks and chest, he was wavering, chattering, he was unstable, was unwilling, “Come on Jerold, have you seen the Angles out there, it's literally as the old testament, Angel here, Angel there, one by your side” He paused to breathe but his grin remained fixed, strong and wrathful “And one way over-r-r everywhere... how do we find her? how do we know where he's keeping her?”
“Seeing from the colour of his wings, what angel posses blood red wing, powerful angels, maybe more than Archangels but powerful Angels when on earth, they inhabit a place with history, an Angelic scar if you will”
“The old castle, where the Archangel fell”
“Where the Michael fell”... “Keeps bringing us back to the beginning”.
Hannah dangled chain dangled around her wrist and she exhaled dryly in the cold, she couldn't feel her legs, she couldn't feel her hands, she couldn't feel her body, every inch, every nerve, every atom in pain.
The room condensed on her body and it dripped down her face slowly, but the water her outsides knew, her insides didn’t. When she would mumble, when she could swallow her own fluids, her throat could war at each other as stone contained in a small enclosure and shaken together.
She was down on water, on food and on strength and she felt her life straying away from her grip, and she felt her hope fading fast.
She just remained still, her hands chained above her head, and her legs chained below.
She closed her eyes and cut out the dripping waters and the ringing chains, the chattering Angles and the night’s cry. She pulled her self into her thoughts for a chance of peace, one last before her demise. She was in her thoughts, fully and alive, she watched, she cried, she smiled. At the very first day she had hope, the day she had a plan, the very first day she saw him, she recollected the paintings, the white room, her brawl with him, when she had come close to ending an ally, her only friend, the man who thought it sane to battle demons for a woman he barely knew.
She reminisced on her journey, their journey, the fights, the jokes, the fun and the love and hate. Emotions she never knew could be felt at the same time, the same moment, hate and love, feelings that caused a mighty rush as his eccentricity created with her eagerness and raging thrill that raptured her soul even as she tried to subdue but in the end, she was subdued by it.
She remembered his touch and she felt it in her dying extent, his kisses and every move he made that assured her of his love, his desire, his thirst for her, her love, her lips, her touch, her body. She saw desire in his eyes, one she knew he could not hide, one that came with a price, if only she would in, to surrender to his will.
In his eyes she saw a chance, she saw love, she saw home.
And then she saw anger, hate and a dying love in his eyes as she was in the arms of another.
“Hannah” The blood-red winged Angel called, walking into her dark surrounding with his bright light aura, one that shielded his face and body, “Thy companions hath come to thy rescue”
“What?” She exhaled in utter exhaustion, she strength bar in its negative and her willingness to act, her soul, fast asleep... maybe dead
“The young hunter and the brave demon”
“They-will-end-you” She mumbled, her voice weaker than her body and her body drained of blood water food and life.
“You had a taste of both of them, tell me, was the demon worth such love Jerold had you, was lust and un-forgiveness better than the undying love that you well know he had”... “So here is mercy I bring you, I will erase you from the land if the mortals and with you everyone who stands in my way, all but one, one of your choosing” He smiled, he paced around as he spoke, he was elevated as though the things around his was filth, the hardwood on which he stood, the grass crawling up the wall, the reddish night and the savour of the dead mixed with dew, fog, blood pain and misery.
“hrrrgh”
“Who's more loved by the Nephilim”
“Screw you” She muttered with the little strength left within her.
“Then it's settled... they both die”.
They walked through the broken sides of the castle, stepping over scorched woods, stones, sand and weeds, and into the dark insides of the archaic castle, the eve was young and the wind caused the trees to dance, the whooshing of the leaves, the songs of the birds, the silent growls of the red night and dim light of the moon created a night so vivid and cold.
Tiny shimmering diamond followed behind the moon as disciples, the moon was half full, and its context was reddish, as if the skies bleed, as if the wraps of the cosmos was torn open.
It was all him, the blood red winged Angel, causing the nights to accept to his hands an abomination.
The aura of the night was mild, as the cold fell on their skin and as they squinted to keep out the sand and leaves that was commanded by gentle but persuasive wind.
They watched their steps, slowly after each other, silently and prudently, they listened, they watched, they moved on.
Jerold saw shadows of himself, shadows of Michael, of Paul, straining, battling, killing. Crying.
Up to the large hall by the second floor above the ground, whence they had met with the Archangel.
He could remember as his body fell, Paul, young and strong, battling being beyond humanities grasp, for their safety, for their survival.
Out of the nothingness of the dark corner came loud cries, of men, of Angels, running towards them in anger, anger unleashed.
Jerold quickly pulled out his red blade, aimed for the head of the last, slide past the first, leaped to the air and threw legs at the face of the next, he rolled to his knee, pulled out the dagger from the cracked skull of the fallen Angel.
He ran to one as Belphegor struggled with the other, he flexed passed his attacks turned over his hands, shoved his leg hard on his waist and moved on to pull him back by his neck and the he drove the dagger into his spine... and sliced up.
He, diced through the right black wing and then stabbed the back of the Angel that had his hands on Belphegor head trying to command his demonic being, his dark essence to death, Belphegor groaned in agony, his insides burning slowly.
He exhaled, panting after the Angel fell.
Jerold helped him to his feet and they turned fast to whence a bright light materialized.
“You killed the Angels and the holy vessels, and you say you work for humanity” A voice spoke from the within the light.
“Bigger picture” Jerold replied, strengthening his stance, his gaze and his fist, his tone sturdy and his lips frowned.
“Give us Hannah and we walk out of here, you don't have to die” Belphegor grumbled, fixing his gaze at him and calming his voice. The statement as he meant it a threat he also tried to convince himself, that he wasn't a fool, demons as he could be torn apart with a snap of a finger.
“Why call him an ally Jerold? I mean he did fondle with your ‘love’, why let him live?”.
“It's called control, it's called being human, and so is death; as you're about to see”
“Strong words” He laughed, his voice harmonizing through the night, mild but strong, melodic and loud, it was celestial, his words, his laughter, his movement, his air, unfathomably strong and causing thrill in the body of those who saw, those who heard... “So what shall be of you without control? What shall you become if I take from you restraint and logic?”
“What?”
“Let's find out shall we” He snapped his fingers and smiled at the gasp of Jerold and as his breath was cut short and he seemed to be lifted out of his soul, he nodded his hatred and evil.
“Why Hannah? Why-y-y?” He grumbled, tightening his grip on Belphegor’s neck.
“Snap out of this Jerold” He choked, shrugging hard and on and on.
He jammed his head on his nose and he pulled away, he looked up at Jerold, his nose broken and his stare ever hateful and wrathful. “Jerold, let's think this through, the Angel, the Angel we want dead, not! The demon” He pleaded.
“Can kill both” Jerold answered raging angrily at him, Belphegor ducked to the left and he staggered through.
“Okay that's enough, I won't be superman to your batman, I won't hold back” He shouted walking closer to him, the sides of his jacket uneven, his stare strengthened as his frown tightened, his bright blue pupil went from shiny and charming to utter blackness and evil “If I have to; I will kill you”, “I will fight back!”.
He turned to face him, not bothered by the colour and intensity of his eyes, his brown hair scattered down his face, shielding his eyes partly, causing his gaze mixed with deep breaths and frowned lips to be dark, to be wrathful and ferocious, “Good, best to die nobly than cowardly” He replied running at him.
He felt his insides free, his thoughts free and peaceful, everything he thought sane disappeared; everything he thought insane, disappeared.
He felt like a new being, he felt stronger, he felt empty, he felt free, he felt nothing close to happiness, sadness, pain, as if his emotions was wrapped up in a big bag and tossed out if him.
Everything he did was pure, unwashed, unfiltered, he acted as he thought, he punched, kicked, screamed, and as tears rolled down his cheeks.
He couldn't fathom why he cried, why he felt a part of him trapped within, a part that loved the love and the pain that came with it, a part of him that wants to feel it all, a part of him that needs it to be alive.
It kicked at his cage, it roared, it shouted, it punched, endlessly fighting for his freedom.
He couldn't hold anything back, all he could to was to channel his feeling of nothingness out as he battled the demon.
He remembered Cherry and Paul, when he found out about their betrayal, and he couldn't feel the betrayal, he couldn't feel her love, his love, and every single love engulfed night they spent together, nights that were imprinted permanently in his thoughts, he couldn't feel anymore, the kiss, the touch and more.
He remembered all the drunken night, the numb night, the ones with empty spots, times he couldn't account for. He remembered the pain and tears and anger, and then came hope, hope in her beauty and strength and then there was nothing, nothing but disloyalty and hate.
He cried as he smashed his fist into Belphegor face, hard, on and on and on till he fell to the ground. He stood on him and continued, even as the demon was bloody and weak, he smacked on, without hesitation, without control.
In his eyes he saw her, her lips on him, and tears rolled down his cheeks, he had taken from his only chance for love, for peace.
He felt a loud shout in him, one that caused his mind and soul to quake, he staggered backwards. He still felt trapped he still felt incomplete, he still felt short but he saw beyond this.
He saw a chance for a new beginning, maybe in death.
To escape this misery.
He paused and stared into the demons eyes, his face was covered in blood, his lips, his nose, his eyes, all was bloody, he was gazed to his seemingly unconscious and numb body, yearning to punch him again, for what he stole frim him, for his betrayal, for her.
He cried, closed his fist strong and drove it passed his face to the ground beside, it fell so hard his fist bleed, he felt nothing but wanted to feel, he wanted it all back, so he smashed it in again, he continued, punching endlessly in tears till the ground cracked, till his bones shattered, till blood drip from it but still he felt nothing.
The expressions on his face vanished and it was not coming back.
He stood from him gazing pitifully at him, he desired to instil in him pain, for everything, to let him feel a fraction of what he felt as he watched them kissed, and now he stopped, as much as he hated him for what he did, he also hated her.
She sparked the romance, she started it, he should not be punished for her decision.
“Go ahead, kill me, kill me Jerold! That's what you always wanted”
“Don't act as a victim, you took her, you, you, you-u”.
“She kissed me, I love her, forgive me if I thought to take what I want that wanted me, but now you have her, so just end it, end it all”.
“I don't want you dead Belph, as much as I hate what you did... you're my friend” He grumbled stretching his arm down to him, Belphegor gripped it and he pulled him up, “Let's go in there for Hannah, let's murder another Angel”.
“Together”.
“Whatever your name is, your work here is done” He grumbled barging into the scene, walking straight towards Hannah.
Obstacle that was Angels came between them and her, he looked at Belphegor and back at the Angels with a strong grin, one of hate and wrath, “Move away or die”
“Make us”
Belphegor smiled as he walked close to one, the Angel smirked as he knew what weak being the demon was, he would love to bring him as he believed himself a better.
“One last time or you die, move away”
“Filthy demon” The black winged Angel hissed in disgust throwing his fist at him.
Belphegor caught it, snapped it up. Belphegor sliced his palm with the finger of his other hand and jammed the blood that poured from within into the mouth of the Angel.
He staggered back and Belphegor followed placing the thumb of his other hand in the middle of his forehead as the Angel drank his blood but shrugged himself to be free.
His hands still in his mouth and his thumb still on his forehead, he whispered chants and the Angel cried even as it was enclosed by Belphegor's palm.
The Angel felt a burning in his vessel, as it the house was on fire and he was forced to flee. White smoke puffed put every single whole in the body and they it fell, lifeless.
The Angel no more
“I'm the demon who aided Achyls, I now accepted the fullness of my abilities... call the vampires, call the Archangels, call Belphegor”
Jerold smiled, he looked at them, their uncertainty, fear, hesitation, and he hissed and frowned in disgust, he would make them pay.
He could feel himself, inside himself, pushing himself, and he couldn't not just hold still.
He poured against them, the red blade tightly gripped.
Into their enclosure.
Belphegor followed behind him, commanding the atmosphere, the cosmos and the very being of the Angels.
The wind poured in like mighty unstoppable waves, the night grew darker and redder, and the clouds cried, causing thunder and lightning, causing mighty tears from the sky to shook the forest, to shook the castle.
Jerold was unhinged, he numb but still, strong and berserk, he roared as he moved, faster than they thought normal, faster than they knew to avoid.
Everything blurred out, his thoughts, his surrounding, his plan, his sense of self.
He felt reborn, he felt free, felt new, like a warming sensation in his insides ordering him, and he was willing to obey, he was openly ready, readily ready.
The first had fallen, and then another, and another.
He charged on to the next and the next so did Belphegor, tearing through the armies of Angels, commanding their essence flee, and whilst battling their eyes never left the red wing, never left Hannah.
He turned to the last, but was knocked back again and again and again, till blood rolled down his lips.
He didn't care for the taste of his blood and the strikes of the Angels, his disgust overshadowed it all and so did his lack of empathy, lack of love, of emotions, he had turned the very weapon if the Angel back at him. Using the carefree pain free gift of misery against him.
Jerold just pulled out the dagger from the chest of the last as his eyes was fixed on the red wing.
Belphegor commanded the night to know peace and quiet, he needed his full power, he needed it all against an Angel with the blessings of the red wing.
“Angels are unimaginably stronger than you think Jerold” The red winged Angel echoed.
“I posses the ultimate killer, I am unimaginably deadlier than you think”
“Yeah, the red blade, I saw, but... that blade is was not created by my father, It is not of heaven, I feel no grace within, no light; nothing; I wield the originals, the ones touched by the Almighty, all three” He continued, moving slowly towards him, as though he could taste a burn at the tip of his tongue but couldn’t what it was.
“Ask your Angels, ask Michael about it's authenticity; ohh you can't... I killed him” He grumbled, fixing his gaze at him, at his aura of bright light that concealed his face, his body.
“You killed Mikael?” He asked worriedly, pacing backwards. “With that?”. “You are no mortal, you are not a human, something, someone commands your being”
“What?!”
“Let's try something new shall we” He feared grumbled and snapped his fingers.
Jerold screamed and fell his knees.
It started first as a burning sensation within him, he screamed and clutched himself.
He ran his fingers down his face, he ripped out his shirt and staggered through the empty space.
Just then did bloody and weak Belphegor ran to his aid, asking, holding trying.
The sensation grew and so did his screams, the Angel smiled and Hannah pulled at her chains.
“What are you doing to me” He cried as he felt everything on every nerve, every atom of his body, the caged within broke and all pain rushed out with it
He screamed, he cried, he clutched, tears rolled down his cheeks.
And then came the fire.
His trousers, his skins, his hair, all of him ablaze and his screams stronger and louder still, Belphegor pulled away as his essence was flammable. Hannah screamed, Jerold screamed, the Angel laughed and Belphegor thought one way and acted the other.
The flames devoured him whole.
His screamed soon died slowly down, as with him. His eyes were fixed on her, his attempts to gain her love had had its good and bad days but he never knew he would know death like this, he believed there was something for him, a meaning to his existence, and he was it with her.
He could see the smile on her face, the hope on her face, fading fast, and then came tears, panic and agitation.
The trust of love, his hope fading under the cold distant night and it's gripping wind, tears rolled down his eyes, boiled by his hot black and burnt face, his eye weak and body weak and his lips whispered as he fell, “I loved you”.
She roared in tears and intensity and found within her, unfathomable strength, she tore through the chains and fast at him.
He skilled passed her raging attack and drove his fist through her torso, and as he pulled it out, there was blood, stained on his whiteness.
There was a big thunder blast and the night knew not only the light if the Angel but of the lightning that shook the surroundings, the skies, the trees, the castle.
She fell in pain and crawled to whence Jerold was still, she pulled him to her arms and cried, his breathing was still, his heart, his vain. She cursed herself for her foolery, for her lack of forgiveness, for her loss, loss of a man, a man so empathetic, he warred with the scavengers of hell and the warriors of heaven on her behalf, for her safety, for her continuance.
The Angel gripped her by the neck, pulled her from the body, and dragged her through dust, cobweb and blood, and threw her against the wall.
Belphegor charged at him but he twirled passed and pat him his head and the brave demon screamed to nothingness.
“I will rid this world of stains like you and kinds likened” He enraged as he walked on towards her.
He pulled her up and slammed his fist against her face, he gripped her neck tight, pulled her up again and jammed his fist hard and then harder.
She fell from his grip and he reached for her neck again, he moved his fist back and aimed for her face.
He was cut halfway, his hands held back by a man behind and from that man an utterance came, one that shook his being.
“Barachiel” The voice echoed through the skies like melodic thunder blasts, loud but soft, melodic and slow, and with it solemnity, “What has my daughter done to deserve such hatred”
“Nathaniel?” He shocked, his light brightened as his hands was held back by his brother, he gasped in wordlessness and shivered in fear
He pulled away and rushed at him but a touch to his chest and he flew across the room.
“Come on brother, I thought you everything you know... I raised you”
“I defeated you last time didn't I? If the Archangel had just killed you as the law commended”
“Ohh Ra-pha-el, a generous brother truly, I knew one day I would sense my daughter, why not let! Myself be imprisoned till then”
“You can surrender now, maybe you get to live, your daughter, not so much”
Barachiel charged at him and again, he was punted across the room.
“Lets shed light on what was of you the last we battled” He grinned and fixed his eyes on his bright face and the lights that was Barachiel’s aura died down, and his true face was seen.
Three crooked burn marks by the rights of his face, a black closed eye, a missing ear and an uneven jaw.
The fear that was in his eyes was clear, he was wavering, he was unsettled, he panicked, and Nathaniel just watched, there was hatred in both their eyes, rage in both their eyes.
Barachiel ran at him again, this time, Nathaniel caught him by his neck, he lifted him above the ground, gazing into his eye, “You killed my wife, burnt the love of my eternal life, you shattered my family”... “You betrayed me!” He yelled as blood red feathers tore out of his back, through his robes and above.
Barachiel gasped in shock mixed with fear and anxiety, he threw him to the wall, Nathaniel elated himself to the air, he caused rain, red blood-like rain, he caused the sky to darken in redness but the earth to know unimaginable brightness as a bolt of lightning struck Barachiel.
A mighty bolt that caused the wood of the upper room to shatter and he fell down to the ground floor, head first into a spike.
Nathaniel lowered himself, “You came after my daughter!” He walked wrathfully to him, his wings mimicking his steps, he held him by the burnt cheek and drove the other side through the shattered woods, “My child!” He added, cutting two iron rods from what seemed to be a window, “You own niece!” He roared, slashing the rod across his face, “You could love her” He said slamming it across his jaw so he staggered backwards, “You could care for her” He continued with his words and rods, “Be an uncle!” He said, kicking his legs back to loosen his stance and then proceeding to slap him across the cheek with the rod, “Or you could have leave us be!” He added letting the rod fly freely across the night and into his chest.
“You were my brother; a friend... my confidant” He whispered placing the second rod on the other side of his chest, on his racing heart, straightening him and gazing into his eyes as he was open and exhausted.
“I loved you, I cared for you, I was all these things till you betrayed me, till you betrayed heaven, you should thank me, If I had not come, maybe Mikael would have, maybe neither of you would be here” He cried looking back into his eyes.
“I was warded against Archangels, courtesy of Raphael; he told me what you gained at my death, trading a brother in for some blades of myth... you call that love” He replied, his voice tender and shaking, saddened and broken, he forced back his tears and retained his facelessness.
Hannah groaned to her feet and dragged herself to the side of her father, she gaze into the eyes of her abductor, the once fierce bright warrior she knew was lost, all she saw was a scared scarred shaky Angel, she was clutch at her insides and lowered her lips in disgust.
“Goodbye my brother, you have not been the one” He whispered as he drove the rod in his heart and through. The celestial magic in his hand moved through the rod and into Barachiel and his essence died with his body, his true body.
Cherry was afraid, she was trembling, she was indecisive, but she was brave.
She bursted through the doors to an enlightenment that would whirl her emotion deeper than she could ever imagine.
She was ready for battle and turmoil, but what she faced shook her mind, body and soul.
She was numb, she was still, she couldn't accept, she couldn't believe that the love she knew was a love lost, one lost forever.
Paul.
He and Jerold had warred against an Archangel and one returned and that one still plots against Angels
She cried and cried.
Jerold took her in his arms, he hated what she did but he understood what she felt, Paul was a friend to him also. He gave her an opportunity, of revenge against the kind that caused the demised of her lover, to join him against a red wing but she chose freedom, she chose to flee, to leave her old live and restart, to be a new person, a new woman.
Her ferocity and confidence ripped out without mercy, without restraint.
The touch, the words, the love and kisses, the pleasure; she could only reminisce.
Belphegor lamented with a bottle of heavy scotch whiskey labelled Ardbeg in his hands, he staggered through the counter and through the mansion, through its empty, it would have been silent if only he had known where his thoughts originated.
He never realized that the death of a foe could be so relieving, but still he was blue.
He remembered what Jerold said minutes before his death, “you're my friend” It replayed causing him agony, it caused him to smile, caused him to call Jerold, his hunter nemesis, brother.
As he walked through the rooms and pathway, he could see him, he could see himself, he could see her, all three together laughing and plotting.
It was a figment of his imagination, one that came to life in his drunken extent, as shadows replaying events of the past, good and bad.
Now there was nothing, no hunter, no Nephilim, no threat, it was victory but no one was left to celebrate.
Hannah could only wish that she had him one last time, for her reasons, for her guilt, her choice.
His hands, his presence his care and caresses, one last time.
To feel, to hold on to, to remember, to feel bliss; again, to feel loved again.
To cry, and weep, to apologize, to let out her emotions to his hearing ears than not, to tell him she loves him, that she forgave him, that she was wrong, to let him know it was all her fault, to let him know that there was, truly, light at the end of the tunnel, and to apologize that he wasn't there to behold.
To look him in the eyes, and see his love and desire as always, desire that caused tingles in her thoughts and skin, and in places she wished him taste.
To take responsibility, to cry, to fall, to say goodbye and to carry on... to grief, knowing the last she saw him, was the last it would ever be.
The last she'd ever see.
As the cold of the nights and the heats of the sun fell, day after day and more, there came a cricking sounds within him, and there was growing unity within him, closing, healing and then stronger than before, his eyes opened.
YOU ARE READING
Crimson (Prequel; Divinity Crisis Triology)
FantasiaA hunter encounters a new creature that changes his definition of good and evil
