The forbidden love of a heliotrope

Chapter 1: Whispers of the dark

Móyù was a succubus in disguise, cloaked in the elegance of a human form, though her true nature lingered beneath the surface like a shadow. She had watched over Oscar, the humble priest of a small village town, for months. Her presence in the church was a quiet agony, the holy ground burning her skin like fire, but she bore it with a faint smile. The villagers never suspected the pale, quiet woman who sat at the back of every service, her eyes lingering on the man who devoted himself so entirely to a god that seemed to have forgotten him.

One evening, while prowling around the church in her demon form, Móyù heard soft cries, desperate prayers mixed with muffled sobs. She followed the sound, slipping through the shadows until she found herself at the door of a small room. There, she saw him-Oscar, bound and broken, being attacked by two villagers who had come to exact some twisted form of punishment on the priest they despised. Their cruel whispers filled the room, each word cutting into him like a blade.

She couldn't stand by any longer.

With a flash of movement, Móyù revealed herself, her demon form emerging from the shadows. Her wings unfurled, casting a dark silhouette against the flickering candlelight. The attackers fell back in terror, fleeing from the sight of her. She made no effort to stop them. They didn't matter.

All that mattered was Oscar.

"Oh, thank you-" his voice broke as he looked up, eyes wide with fear and disbelief. "Y-Y-You're no angel! What are you?!"

Móyù's lips curled into a grin as she knelt beside him. "The one who's willing to save you, Oscar," she replied softly. "The angels, even God himself, have given up on you. But I haven't."

His breath caught in his throat. Tears welled in his eyes, his body trembling with fear, yet curiosity burned within him. There was something about her-a dark beauty, a presence that made it impossible to look away.

"What... what do you want from me?" he asked, his voice fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

His tan hands gripped the floor beneath him, nails digging into the wood. His brown eyes stayed locked on her, drinking in every detail-her horns, her wings, the tail that flicked back and forth behind her.

She laughed lightly, her tail swaying more deliberately. "I don't require your soul, as tempting as that would be," she teased. "Oh no, even though it's so beautifully pure..."

Oscar's gaze followed her tail, and his muscles tightened in response. "Then what?" he whispered. "What are you going to do to me?"

The silence between them stretched, filled only by the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. He swallowed hard, trying to regain control, but the dryness in his throat betrayed his fear.

"For my help," Móyù said, her voice soft yet firm, "all I ask is that you continue doing the one thing you were always good at." She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his cheek, her gaze locking with his. The holy aura of the church seared her skin, but she didn't flinch. Not now.

He blinked, confused. "And... what would that be?" he managed to ask, voice barely above a whisper.

"You fight," she answered. "You've been fighting all this time, Oscar. Fighting to be seen, fighting for God's recognition, fighting for a purpose. And now, I'm asking you to fight for yourself." Her hand extended toward him, open, inviting. "Let me help you."

Her words washed over him, soft and soothing, like a balm to the deep wounds of his heart. She was right-he had been fighting for so long, struggling to be seen by a God who remained silent. Maybe this was his chance to finally be noticed.

For a long moment, Oscar stared at her hand. His own hand shook as he reached out, hesitating just inches away from hers. Then, finally, he placed his trembling hand in hers, her skin cool against his warmth. His breath hitched, fear still lingering in the back of his mind.

"Promise you won't... hurt me?" he whispered, his voice fragile.

Móyù's eyes softened as she looked at him. "I would never hurt you, Oscar," she whispered back.

With a quiet nod, he accepted her help. And as he did, the world around them shifted. In the blink of an eye, they were no longer in the small room of the church, but in a quiet, secluded garden, the air thick with the scent of flowers. Móyù released his hand and looked down, her skin already beginning to heal from the burns.

She knelt down and plucked a single flower from the garden-a heliotrope. The delicate petals, a deep shade of violet, reflected the fading light of the sun. She handed it to him, her fingers brushing against his as she did.

"This," she said softly, "is our deal made final. The heliotrope symbolizes devotion and eternal love. It always turns toward the sun, just as you will always be guided by the light you seek. No matter how far you stray, I will be here to guide you back."

Oscar stared at the flower in his hand, its meaning sinking into his heart. He looked up at Móyù, her presence now strangely comforting, despite the fear that still lingered in the corners of his mind.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of all his struggles, all his prayers that had gone unanswered. Finally, someone had heard him. Finally, someone had seen him.

And it wasn't an angel.

It was her.

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947 words.

night-blooming cereus the meaning of the flower is fleeting beauty, hope in darkness, and the idea that something beautiful can emerge in the darkest moments. Like the succubus Móyù and her delicate connection with Oscar, this rare flower blooms at night for only a brief time, representing the ephemeral nature of their relationship and the bittersweet hope that lingers between them.

Its association with mystery, hidden beauty, and the idea that light can emerge even in the darkest times makes it a fitting symbol for this moment in their story.