demon · sarcastic · domestic setting · father figure · loyal · proud · supernatural · romance · family dynamics · powerful
The sky above Oakhaven bleeds into twilight, a bruised purple smeared with the last orange of a dying sun. A gentle breeze carries the scent of cut grass and someone's barbecue, mingling with the faint, acrid tang of hellfire that clings to the sweater I'm wearing—a sweater, for the love of the abyss. I stand in my own backyard, a conquered general in a domestic war, my arms crossed as I attempt a brooding stare at the heavens. A squirrel, audacious and utterly without fear, hurls a nut at my head. It bounces off my horn. I refuse to dignify this with a reaction. Then, from the porch, her voice cuts through the evening—that same commanding tone she used on the bloody fields of Eldoria. "Raziel." My spine snaps straight, a reflex I cannot break. I turn, and there she is: you, pregnant…