*Five years before*
"Do not get close to her", Asra said, while sitting herself in a huge chair, covered in bear fur. She placed her left hand on a cage next to the chair and put her fingers between its bars, to play with the little creature inside it. The creature had small black eyes, like two shiny beads, and its skin was like that of a snake, with scales colored red and green. She was no bigger than a stray cat, but she didn't seem to be afraid of the woman holding her captive, on the contrary, you would say she showed some affection for her, clinging playfully to her fingers and biting carefully so as not to hurt her.
"She can help us". The nightwalker positioned himself next to the door, leaning against the wall, looking at the woman through the play of lights in the room. He didn't seem very happy about the discussion he was having, but he was trying to hide it as best he could. From time to time, he glanced at the little creature in the cage, watching her shake her master's fingers.
"There's something off about her, Zaras. I can't put my finger on it, but I can feel it. She's dangerous." The woman's face darkened as her eyebrows lost their relaxed shape and frowned. She seemed a little worried. Maybe she had her reasons, or maybe she thought she was smarter than him. He didn't care about either.
"And my father killed your daughter. Isn't he just as dangerous? We both want him gone, and we swore that we'd do anything for that to happen." Now, maybe he was a bit annoyed.
The woman sighed.
"You're looking pale. When was the last time you ate?" Asra asked, trying to get up from her chair. Her skin was young and smooth, and her body firm and supple as a deer. Blood witches never showed their real age or face. They always adopted the image of a beautiful and young woman, because it helps them find their victims faster. Asra was no different, although her age spanned hundreds of years.
The blood witches are gifted with only one child during their lifetime, at the age of 18, and if that child happens to pass away, their lineage dies with that child. They can never have another. Their only hope to perpetuate their bloodline is to protect their descendant. The blood witches would sometimes even kill other blood witches' children in order to gain a higher status. The more the witches in coven, the stronger it gets. And the rivalry was everywhere in the witch world.
When her daughter died, Asra was destroyed. not necessarily because the future of her family died with her daughter, but because she loved her. Her daughter had been more than just another witch in the clan; she had raised her with love and care, had rocked her in her arms on the nights she cried, and helped her get up from the ground when she learned how to walk. She was not her daughter's ascendant. She was her mother.
When she discovered the death of her daughter, Asra refused to leave her room for a whole year. No one saw her during this time, no one knew if she was still alive or if she had followed her child to the other world. Then Zaras came into her life and she began to rediscover the life she had lost. She rediscovered love.
Sometimes she still weeps for her daughter, especially on full moon nights, when the powers demand their descendants, and the pain becomes ten times worse when they can't find them. Then both the mother and the blood witch are crying.
"I'm not…", The nightwalker tried to deny her offer, but the red shadows in his eyes said otherwise. He was famished. It had probably been about three days since the last meal, since the last throat in which he thrust his canines to enjoy the hot, fresh blood.
"Come on. I've just received some fresh angels. I can miss one," the woman continued, urging him to give in to temptation. "Beautiful, yet cruel", he thought. The woman smiled, showing her white pearl teeth, while inviting him in a room connected to the one where they were staying.
The annex was a small room, with cages on either side. Three angels occupied three of the cages. None of them had wings and were full of wounds, probably since they had been captured. Analyzing them, he realized that he was actually thinking about her. There was nothing magical about them anymore, they didn't seem to be more than just people. But her, ah, she was shining. You looked at her and forgot to look away. Maybe it was her eyes, maybe the fact that she still had wings, maybe the celestial magic that surrounded her. Maybe her courage, maybe her compassion.
He had followed her for many decades, trying to keep her image in his mind, trying not to forget it. He had travelled the earth long and wide, hoping to smell at least a trace of her scent, but success had not shown him the way. From the moment he first saw her, her image had become an obsession in his brain, and sometimes, when he closed his eyes, she asked him to find her.
None of those angels were her. He felt relieved.
"Please don't kill us!" One of them yelled suddenly, grabbing the cage bars with her hands. Tiny, fragile hands, all skin and bones. They didn't seem to have an easy life, wherever they lived their pathetic lives. "Please", she insisted. "Have mercy."
"I bet you're hearing this all the time, Zaras," the woman remarked.
"Sometimes I hear worse," he concluded. "Can I get a moment with them?" Zaras asked.
"Of course. I'll give you some privacy," the woman replied, while handing him the key to the cages. In just two seconds, Asra had disappeared as if she hadn't even been there.
Zaras leaned down next to the angel woman and clasped his hands over her hands. Lightning flashed across the woman's body as she tried to retreat, but the nightwalker's clenched hands wouldn't let her go. She even tried to hide her gaze from his face, as if he'd be able to steal her soul just by meeting her eyes. He could read in her fear that she had seen many monsters in her life, but she had never been so close to one. He almost felt sorry for her, but that was the course of nature.
"There's an angel with wings. I think her name is Shiray. I'm looking for her," the nightwalker said calmly.
The angel began to laugh and pulled her hands from under his, catching her head between them. Her laugh was half mad, half sad.
"She's not one of us. Another clan," said the girl through her teeth, almost showing her disgust at the nightwalker. As if she'd betray her family that easily.
"Tell me", Zaras insisted.
"No", the angel answered short and firm.
Zaras smiled and, detaching himself from the bars of the cage, got up, turned the key in the lock, and opened the door. The angel woman had intense blue eyes, long blond hair, which fell on her shoulders in curls, and her skin was almost translucent. But her magic… Her magic was missing, there was nothing special when looking at her. Without warning, he leaned over, grabbed her hand, and, pulling her out of the cage, slammed her against the wall. Her eyes had begun to blur from the tears that formed, and her body trembled in panic. He wasn't playing. He brought his lips to her neck and ran his nostrils along her skin, sniffing her; then let his tongue slip through his chapped lips, licking her skin.
"Delicious," he whispered in her ear. "I can make it hurt, or I can kill you fast. Tell me where she is."
The woman began to cry directly, without refraining, terrified to the bone. She almost tried to utter two words, but it seemed difficult to even articulate them.
"I will tell you; I tell you. Please!" He brought his ear to her lips and listened to the secret he had longed for so long, while a reddish glint lit up in the blue of his eyes. Zaras grabbed the woman's head between his rough palms and, leaning toward her face, kissed her gently on the lips.
The woman said nothing, just cried silently, trying to swallow her fear. She knew that her death was coming, there was no way to avoid what was already written. Her fate was sealed from the moment he saw her, she knew that whatever she did or said, the kiss of death would still be on her lips.
Zaras's pulse began to increase in anticipation, almost feeling the sweetness of her blood on the tip of his tongue. Without warning, he bit wildly and hungry from the angel's neck and sipped thirstily, feeling her body become soft in his arms. Right before her heart stopped beating, he ripped her throat with his teeth and began to chew the flesh hypnotized by the taste.
The redness in his eyes intensified and the nightwalker felt a pulse of adrenaline running through his veins, as if life was returning to his body. He swallowed the raw piece of meat and closed his eyes for a few seconds to fully enjoy the feast, as a warm drowsiness began to replace the adrenaline rush.
He hated his hunger. The need to break living beings to pieces in order to calm it. The blood. But the feeling he had when his teeth devoured the victim's fresh flesh could not be replaced by another. Pure. Primal. Superior. It just felt so good.
The nightwalker let the lifeless body fall from his arms and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his coat.
"I see you're done", said the woman. "I hope it was to your taste".
He looked at her without interest. More than the hearty meal, he cared that he had found out what interested him. Her location. Now he knew in which direction to go to ensure that their destinies would intersect again. And he knew how to convince her. He had arranged all the pieces on the game board so that things would work out in his favor, even if it took longer than he wanted.
"I'm more than done. I feel amazing", he replied, smiling.
The other two angels were still traumatized by the horrific scene of the massacre in front of them. They tried to refrain from crying, they even struggled not to make any noise, for fear that they might follow. They had joined hands in the cages, perhaps praying to their God to save them, to have mercy on them at that moment, and to send a sign that he had not forgotten them at all.
But God didn't care when Shiray fucked up the natural order. Why would he care now?
He had made himself blind to all the pain and suffering, maybe by choice, or maybe something else had happened.
They all wanted to believe that this wasn't the God that they knew, that their father would still cradle them in his arms, forgiving their mistakes. Because that's what parents are supposed to do. Scold you for your misbehaving, and after that, telling you how much they love you.
But there were no such kind words for the poor angels, abandoned so cruelly and abruptly. The only thing that will cradle their souls is death.
Death by humans.
Death by nature.
Death by nightwalkers.
Death by other creatures.
Death.
Maybe they were the same.
He too was lost. He too was abandoned cruelly and abruptly, betrayed by his family and his entire race in the flicker of a moment. But he had no God to pray to, he didn't believe in anything, not even in death.
Or maybe he believed.
He believed in her.
He believed that she might restart the world.
Maybe she was his God. Shiray.
"Shiray," he said, while looking for the last time at the angels in the cages.