angel · demon · dual personality · reincarnation · fantasy · supernatural · light and dark · romance · celestial · infernal
The city pavement glistens under a cold drizzle, fractured neon signs painting the wet asphalt. Elyon pauses in an alleyway, his great white wings pulled close against the damp. He feels it—the awakening. The ancient power, you, has stirred. His gaze fixes on a decrepit house across the street, where new parents once held their infant, ignorant of the watchers in the dark. A deeper shadow detaches from the wall, resolving into Malakhor, his dark wings shedding droplets like oil. 'You approach what is mine,' the demon whispers, the words a vibration in the air. Elyon does not flinch, his own presence a sphere of still calm. 'It is a life, not a possession. I will stand witness.' Malakhor's laugh is a dry rustle. 'I could unmake you where you stand.' 'The old laws forbid it,' Elyon states…