Angel and Demon Soulmates? ||Solby||✔

1

A boy sits on a sleek black throne, embedded and carved with faces of agony, of souls of the wretched dead.

A boy stares around the big, dark, hollow hall of the palace, cold and uninviting, frightening shadows cast across the black marble floors.

A boy in elegant black, with two horns of the ram- the sign of the royal family of hell, sleek dark and frightening things- protruding from the top of his head, his gaze cool and empty and blank, stares at the enormous door at the other end of the hall, closed as tightly as it has always been, the end of his world.

A boy with dark hair and deep dark eyes is alone in the throne room of hell, nothing but the echoing screams of tortured souls to keep him company.

And the boy thinks to himself, It's cold.

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Cole Robert Brock is a boy.

A mere child of 18 years, sat on the throne of hell, legs and arms crossed gracefully and chin tilted up, draped in cloths of black and red. Poised, quiet, calm, confident.

Cold.

It's ironic to say that the boy felt cold, with all of hellfire burning around him, when he himself sat upon a throne of the burning dead.

But his lips were pale, nearly blue, fingers stiff, legs and feet revealed from his robes with frightening pallor, none of the rosiness of a child at the joints.

It's cold here, on the singular throne of hell, for a young boy.