The two demon kings had left hours ago, their dark auras still lingering in the air like a shadow that refused to fade. Elijah, with his commanding presence and long raven hair, had departed to lead his army in the brutal war against the barbarian clans that was going on in the southern valley. His gaze had been cold, distant, but strange feeling lingered in his heart. Maximilian, the second king. His golden-honey complexion and piercing eyes had only masked the ruthless ambition beneath and the hatred for angels because of past betrayal. He didn't care for angels but towards Liam he was feeling strange. He was confused he didn't know answers of questions flooding in his head.
---
The grand halls of the Angelic Temple, once a place Liam had called home, were eerily quiet as he made his way down the corridors for the last time. His soft footsteps echoed faintly against the marble floor, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of all his memories. He clutched a small bag in one hand—containing his entire life's belongings: a few simple robes and a small pendant, the only link to a past he couldn't remember. He rested the cold pendant against his chest, its intricate silver design worn smooth from years of absentmindedly holding it. It was his only comfort now.
His heart was heavy as he walked, the memories flooding back with every step. This corridor was where he had watched the other angels and orphans run and laugh, their voices filling the space with joy. Liam had always stood at the edge of their games, a smile on his lips but a longing in his heart. He had been their protector, their voice when the priests demanded silence, their warmth on the coldest nights. And now, he was leaving them behind.
Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over before he could stop them. He wasn't ready for this. How could he be? The Angelic Realm had been cruel, yes, but it had also been his home. It was where he had fought for a family among those who had none, where he had dreamed of a future that seemed so far away now.
As dawn approached, Liam stopped in front of the sanctum where the four angel priests waited. Their gazes turned toward him as he entered, their faces unreadable. Three of them—the younger priests—were as cold as ever. Liam could see the frustration in their eyes, their plans to use him for power crumbling now that he was being taken to the Demonic Realm. They were not sad for his fate; they were bitter that their schemes had failed.
The fourth priest, however, was different. Volkov, the eldest of the priests, stepped forward. His wrinkled face bore an expression of deep sorrow, and his silvery wings drooped slightly, as if weighed down by the burden of all he knew. Unlike the others, Volkov had always treated Liam with small, quiet kindnesses. A bowl of soup when he was too weak to move after a ritual. A cool hand on his fevered brow after being drained of his power. He had never spoken much, but his actions had been louder than any words.
Liam bowed his head to him, his voice barely a whisper. "Thank you…for everything."
Volkov sighed, his old hands shaking slightly as he reached into his robes. From the folds of fabric, he pulled out a small dagger, its blade shimmering faintly with holy magic. The hilt was wrapped in a deep blue leather, embossed with symbols that Liam didn't recognize.
"Take this," Volkov said, his voice low and urgent. "It is a holy dagger, imbued with the power to protect you in times of great danger. Use it wisely."
Liam hesitated, his pale hands trembling as he accepted the weapon. "Why are you giving this to me?" he asked, his blue eyes searching Volkov's face for answers.
The old priest's expression darkened, as though he carried a secret too heavy to share. "Because your path is not an easy one, Liam. There is much you do not know about your past, about who you are. But one day, you will understand. Until then, stay alive. No matter what."
Liam's heart twisted with confusion and fear, but he nodded. "Thank you," he said again, his voice barely audible.
When Liam stepped through the temple's main gate, a crowd had gathered to see him off. He felt their eyes on him—the jealous stares of angels who envied his beauty and power, the pitying gazes of those who mourned his fate, and the tearful faces of his friends. The orphans and other angels were weeping openly, their small hands clutching at one another as they watched him leave.
He wanted to run to them, to hold them one last time, but he knew it would only make this harder. Instead, he turned and looked back at the temple. It loomed over him, its white spires reaching toward the heavens. He had spent his entire life within those walls, and now he was walking away, never to return.
"I won't die," he whispered to himself, clenching his fists. "I'll survive. I'll be strong."
As he turned back toward the road, the faint creak of the carriage wheels drew his attention. The demons had sent a carriage to take him to their realm, and it was as imposing as he had feared. The black wood gleamed in the dim light, carved with intricate demonic symbols that seemed to shift and writhe if he looked at them too long. The wheels were reinforced with dark iron, and the carriage itself was adorned with crimson velvet curtains that glowed faintly, as though imbued with some otherworldly energy.
The horses that pulled it were unlike any he had ever seen, their eyes burning with a hellish light and their hooves sparking against the cobblestone path. The very air around the carriage seemed heavier, filled with an aura that screamed of power and danger.
Liam swallowed hard as the driver—a silent, hooded figure—opened the door for him. He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding, before stepping inside. The door closed with a heavy thud, sealing him in.
---
Inside, the carriage was as luxurious as it was intimidating. The seats were upholstered in deep crimson leather, and the walls were lined with dark silk. A faint, spicy scent lingered in the air, one that made Liam feel both comforted and uneasy.
He opened the small window beside him, letting the cool dawn air wash over his face. Usually, dawn in the Angelic Realm was serene, the sky a clear, dark blue and the gardens alive with the scent of white lilies and lavender. But today, the world seemed different. The sky was a dull gray, the flowers wilted and lifeless. Even the birds were silent, as though mourning his departure.
Liam sighed, pulling the pendant from beneath his robes. He held it in his hand, running his thumb over its smooth surface. It was the only piece of his past he had left, a tiny fragment of a life he couldn't remember. Who had given it to him? Why had they left him? The questions had haunted him for as long as he could remember, but now they felt heavier than ever.
"I'll survive," he whispered again, clutching the pendant tightly. "I have to." His heart was heavy, ready to burst in tears, but he kept himself strong for his future, his life. The carriage jolted as it began to move, the wheels clattering against the stone road. Liam closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. The weight of the journey ahead pressed down on him, but he refused to let it break him. He was leaving behind everything he had ever known, stepping into a future that terrified him. But he would not let his fear consume him.
As the carriage rolled through the gates of the Angelic Realm, Liam cast one last look back. The spires of the temple faded into the distance, and with them, the life he had known. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: he would not let the demons—or anyone else—decide his fate. But deep inside, the feeling of unease continued to grow, and Liam could feel himself shattering from within.
His heart ached for the life he was leaving behind, but the path ahead was clouded with fear and doubt. Would he be able to survive this future?
What will happen when he will fall in hands of ruthless demons....