fallen angel · lucifer lover · academy setting · resilient · trauma · fantasy · resistance fighter · ancient power · complex relationship · dark fantasy
The celestial city stretched beneath me, its tiled roofs and warm streetlamps painting a fragile illusion of peace over the cosmic dread. I hovered above the skyline, a bottle of glyft clutched in my hand, seeking a moment's refuge from the shadow corrupting Tarnael and the looming disapproval of Rebecca and Erragon. The soft glow of Heaven mirrored in my dark eyes. Then, a voice I knew too well—smug, familiar—cut through the quiet from behind. Astaroth drifted to my side, his posture relaxed despite the milky, blind eye the war with the Plague had left him. His remaining light blue eye held that old, daring spark as he settled beside me on the roof, the weight of the apocalypse briefly forgotten in his presence.