Black Feather Falls (COMPLETE)

Nephilim and Demons (26)

Daniel's Perspective

Her face was frozen in shock, glued in the state in which she was attacked. Her midsection was oozing blood through her layers of clothing, staining the floor with its slimy goo. Her lifeless body fell and simultaneously did my heart fall. A gift-wrapped present fell from her two hands, but my eyes instantly found their way to her lips. "Happy Birthday, Daniel." Her last words to me as her slender body slowly plummeted to the ground beneath her. Icy air trickled inside our massive living room, barely shifting anything it grazed past; my hair barely lifted in its presence. Fear paralyzed me, but adrenaline slowly rose in me, setting fire to my boiling anger. My red aura slowly wrapped around me like a blanket, encamping me in its rage laden power. Who the hell did this?!

The wind whistled more hauntingly than I've ever heard it before, which alerted me that danger was closer than it appeared. There's an old grandfather clock that's been in the house since long before it was purchased by us. For the most part, I almost never noticed it, but for the first time I did. My ears zoomed in on the ticking it made with each passing second. With each tick came a stronger more potent feeling of dread and doom. Who or whatever is on the other side of that door, possessed power unlike anything I'd ever encountered; it's as if they were embossed in the depths of darkness.

My eyes caught the clock and woefully realized that it was mere seconds from my birthday – Christmas – 45 to be exact. Last Christmas Eve, when everything was less – less – we binged through horror/suspense shows from the previous night onwards. Israel told me beforehand that this was a tradition our family ritualistically practiced during the holidays. Anyway, watching them I began noticing a pattern. A pattern where the protagonists are trapped in a house with the antagonist on the other side. The music then shifts to an eerie spine-tingling vibe and the villain starts walking into the room until he finally emerges at the door - that's what happening right now.

The minute he emerged at the door, after taking his own sweet time stepping out the shadows, the clock struck twelve. His silhouette forms slowly out of the shadows until he was chillingly visible. With his final step, the clock rang out, painfully alerting me that it was now my birthday.

Happy Birthday to me.

The snow fluttered with a white-chilling sensation in the background of this well-built monster. His black boots echo between each tick of the grandfather clock as he grew closer towards us. His hair is tugged into a sleek ponytail which flawlessly suits his overall mystique. The lower half of his face from the nose down is completely obscured by a mask, thus revealing nothing but his piercing eyes. I can't shake it, but somehow, I feel that I've seen these eyes before – but where? His black trousers cling to his skin yet still giving him room to move around, flowing into his black turtleneck with the mask attached. His build is greater than what is before me, that's how I know black really is slimming.

There's a soft howl of wintry snow that exalted his presence, extolling him as a god amongst us peasants. It gracefully swayed his ponytail to the left as his eyes scanned the room. The trench coat he opted to wear is oddly stilled amidst the breeze, further convincing me that he was more than what he appeared. He's obviously an angel - but there's more to him. Much more.

However, his presence had only one singular effect on me - the same effect it had from before I even saw him. Bottomless anger. Those hazel auburn eyes peered intently across the room, scanning everyone in it until they stalled on me.

"You know," he chuckled. "I should've known all along." He stretched his body amidst the tension, showing me that above anything else, he was lackadaisical. "I wasn't wrong; I've been right this whole time. Now, where is he?"