•••Two millennia ago•••
The stars above Wollington burned fiercely, casting silvery light on the grand council chamber. Inside, tension simmered like a boiling cauldron. The council of six sat on their high thrones, each Lycan exuding authority, their piercing eyes fixed on the trembling warrior before them.
"Lafreya, this child must not be allowed to live!" King Darius's voice echoed, shaking the very walls of the chamber.
"But this child has done nothing wrong, my King!" Lafreya pleaded, her voice raw. The sharp edge of desperation laced every word. Her hands clenched at her sides, and her amber eyes blazed defiantly. "You speak of prophecies, but they are rarely what they seem! The seer said *I* would help raise a child who could bring ruin, not that it would be *my child*! Surely, we cannot condemn an innocent soul based on mere speculation."
Aragon, the council's eldest and most cantankerous member, leaned forward, his gray mane framing his scowling face. "And yet, here you stand with an abomination growing inside you—a half-Lycan, half-Angel monstrosity! Do you not feel the wrongness of it in your very bones? Such a creature cannot exist."
"If I were in your position, Aragon," Lafreya hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed fury, "would you sacrifice your own flesh and blood so easily?"
The chamber fell silent, save for the distant howl of wolves outside. Aragon's lips thinned, but he did not answer.
"Enough!" Darius barked, his gaze narrowing at Lafreya. "Your loyalty to Wollington has earned you mercy, but our decision stands. You will bear this child, but upon its birth, it shall be executed. No debate, no delay. Is that clear?"
Lafreya's heart sank, but she forced herself to nod. "Yes, my King," she whispered, though every fiber of her being rebelled against the words.
As she turned and stormed from the chamber, her heart pounded with a resolve stronger than any command. They would not touch her child—not while she still drew breath.
~The Night of Birth~
Pain wracked Lafreya's body as she labored in her hidden sanctuary. Every cry and every scream felt like a battle, and she fought to bring her child into the world. Outside, the Lycans waited. Their howls pierced the night, eager for the blood of an innocent.
When the child's first cries echoed through the room, a fragile sense of peace washed over her. She cradled her son, his tiny form warm against her chest. His silver eyes—so much like his father's—gazed at her, and for a brief moment, all her fears melted away.
But the peace shattered with the thunderous crash of the door.
"Take the child!" Jaiden roared as he and two others burst into the room.
"No!" Lafreya screamed, clutching her son tighter. "Please, no! He's done nothing to you!"
Jaiden sneered. "This is mercy, Lafreya. The council could've ordered you killed as well. Now, hand him over!"
Before she could respond, light filled the room. It was blinding and pure, driving the Lycans back. Camael descended, his golden wings outstretched, radiating power. Behind him, three more Angels appeared, their faces etched with divine wrath.
"I will not allow this," Camael declared, his voice resonating like a celestial symphony.
"Angels!" Jaiden snarled, shifting into his Lycan form. "You dare interfere in our affairs?"
"Interference?" Camael's tone was cold. "You sought to harm my child. This is justice."
Chaos erupted. The Angels and Lycans clashed, their battle shaking the very foundations of Wollington. Blood stained the ground, and the once-proud city burned under the might of celestial wrath.
In the end, Camael stood victorious, though the cost was great. The Lycans who survived would never forget the massacre.
Lafreya fled with her son to Felfili, her heart heavy with grief and guilt. She knew she had no choice—Wollington was no longer her home.
~Years Later~
Lafreya lived quietly in Felfili, raising her son away from prying eyes. She named him Cinzel, and in him, she found both solace and strength. He was a child of two worlds, and though his lineage marked him as an outcast, she saw nothing but beauty and potential in him.
But fate was not so kind. When Cinzel turned five, Camael appeared once more.
"It is time," he said, his tone firm yet sorrowful.
Lafreya clutched her son, her heart breaking anew. "Time for what?"
"To take him to Larefirus. He must be raised among Angels. It is the only way to ensure his safety."
"And mine?" Lafreya's voice cracked. "What about *me*?"
Camael hesitated, the conflict clear in his eyes. "This is for the best, Lafreya. You must trust me."
"Trust you?" she spat, tears streaming down her face. "You destroy my home, take my child, and now you ask for my trust? Will I ever see him again?"
Camael's silence was answer enough.
With a heavy heart, Lafreya let Cinzel go, watching as her son disappeared into the heavens. She would not see him again, nor would she hear from Camael. She was left alone, her grief her only companion.
What she did not know was that Camael had plans to return with their son one day. But war erupted in Larefirus, and in the chaos, Camael fell, leaving Cinzel to grow into a powerful Seraph without ever knowing the truth about his father—or the prophecy.
The Present Day
Cinzel, now a towering Seraph, descended to Felfili. He had heard whispers of his mother, and his heart yearned to find her. But Felfili was a strange land, filled with both wonder and danger.
It was there he met Balseroth.
"An Angel, in Felfili?" Balseroth's voice was smooth, seductive, yet tinged with curiosity. Her dark eyes gleamed, and a sly smile played on her lips. "A rare sight indeed."
"And a demon," Cinzel replied, his gaze steady. "Also rare."
They circled each other warily, but the tension soon gave way to an undeniable connection. Balseroth was unlike anyone Cinzel had ever met. She was bold, unapologetic, and utterly captivating.
Days turned into weeks, and Cinzel found himself drawn to her in ways he could not explain. Their bond was magnetic, defying the boundaries of their natures.
"Do you ever wonder," Balseroth mused one evening, "why we're so drawn to each other? It's unnatural, isn't it?"
"Perhaps," Cinzel admitted, his voice soft. "But it feels… right."
Their moments together were fleeting but intense. When the time came for Cinzel to leave, Balseroth's voice was laced with genuine sorrow.
"I'll miss you," she said, her hand lingering on his.
"And I, you," Cinzel replied. "But if you ever wish to see me again, come to Lavoc. It's a place where Angels find solitude. You'll be safe there."
Balseroth tilted her head. "Lavoc… I'll remember that."
As Cinzel flew back to Larefirus, he couldn't shake the feeling that their story was far from over.
A New Threat Unbeknownst to Cinzel, forces in Oxlock stirred. The rebellious Angels who had been cast down long ago were plotting their return, and at their head was none other than Balseroth.
"She trusts him," one of her subordinates sneered. "You could use that against him."
Balseroth's lips curled into a predatory smile. "I don't need to use him. He'll come to me willingly. And when he does…"
Her words trailed off, but her intent was clear.
In the quiet of her rebuilt life, Lafreya felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up from her modest home in Felfili, her heart suddenly heavy with dread.
"Something's coming," she whispered to herself.
A shadow moved outside her window. She rose cautiously, her hand reaching for the dagger she always kept close.
"Who's there?" she called out, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her veins.
A figure stepped into the moonlight, cloaked and menacing. "Hello, Lafreya," a deep, familiar voice drawled.
Her breath hitched. She knew that voice.
"Camael?"
The figure laughed, low and dark. "Not quite."
The dagger slipped from her hand as realization struck. The battle was far from over.