The night was dark, with the moonlight casting an eerie glow over the chaotic scene. The wind whistled through the city streets, creating a haunting melody that would have been peaceful—had it not been for the towering figure in the distance, a faint red silhouette wreaking havoc. His massive frame loomed over buildings, eyes ablaze with beams of crimson energy as he tore through the streets, hurling cars like toys.
In the heart of this devastation stood a lone figure—a young woman with ghostly pale grey skin and striking purple hair. Her eyes, an intense shade of violet, burned with fierce determination. A purple cloak billowed behind her, clasped at her throat by a red gem, another of which sat embedded on her forehead, gleaming like an unblinking eye. Beautiful yet terrifying, she fought with relentless fury against an endless swarm of demons, creatures born of nightmare that shrieked and clawed at her.
This was Raven, daughter of Trigon, a half-demon burdened with a battle that had no end. As she fought, unleashing dark, otherworldly magic with precision, humanity cowered in fear, screaming and fleeing from the monstrous invasion.
A short distance away, leaning casually against a tree, a young man observed the chaos unfolding before him. His ebony-brown skin glowed faintly in the moonlight, his reddish-brown eyes sharp and focused on the spectacle of destruction. His midnight-black hair was tied back, giving him an air of calm in the face of the unfolding storm.
He wore the distinct attire of the Quincy—a long, flowing white cape that swirled slightly in the breeze, layered over sleek robes of the same shade. The minimalist design of his clothing exuded both elegance and precision, with black accents tracing along the trim of his outfit, highlighting the regal and militaristic nature of his presence. Emblazoned across his chest was the unmistakable Quincy cross, gleaming proudly, a mark of his lineage.
Nero Lucian Invierno stood silently, an enigmatic figure watching from the shadows, as the daughter of a demon lord waged war against monsters from hell. He was unmoving, calm amidst the storm, yet there was something in the way he watched the battle—a knowingness, as though he too belonged to this eternal dance of angels, demons, and death.
The wind picked up, sending a chill through the air as the demons pressed in closer to Raven, but Nero made no move. Not yet.
The chaos around him raged on, but for Nero, this was just the beginning.
Here’s a more refined version of the Raven POV:
---
Raven's POV
The screaming... it was getting louder, echoing in my mind, making it harder to focus. It clawed at my patience, feeding the anger that simmered beneath the surface. I knew I had to stay calm—if I lost control, it would all be over.
I wasn’t frustrated with the people for their weakness; I was enraged by my own impotence. I could see their faces, hear their cries, and yet, I could do nothing to help them. What was the point of trying if I was doomed to fail?
I had already failed once. In Azarath. The faces, the voices—I couldn't save them.
Trigon: "That’s right, Raven... give in. Give in to the anger. Give in to me."
His voice slithered into my thoughts, dark and insidious. No matter how hard I tried, I could never drown him out. He was always there, always waiting, always louder when I was upset.
In my mind, Trigon’s voice cut through the chaos with chilling clarity.
Trigon: "Shut up and just leave me alone! You ruin everything."
Trigon: "Had you not sealed me in this foul prison, daughter, I would have claimed this wretched dimension for myself and spared you the misery. You will release me one way or another, and you won’t be able to stop me. You’ll fail like your mother did."
YOU ARE READING
Dc: Blood Of The Quincy King
Fanfiction"It was foretold that the Quincy King would stir after 900 years, reclaim his mind after 90, and restore his strength after 9. But none foresaw the consequences of his forbidden union with a fallen angel. From this union, a child was born-Nero Lucia...
