1 A love that could kill

A very windy Sunday set the mood for a chilly night in the northern side of Rome. On a road leading to an unnamed major city sat a group of buildings, which were long abandoned. The cold night wind drifted through the ruins, whistling as it somersaulted through broken windows and shattered doorways. An old man appeared at the end of the road which bisected the ruins. He made his way to the only building that held signs of life.

It was a tavern, broken down and in tatters but function enough to handle the nearly scarce amount of people who chose to travel such a desolate road. The old man stepped within the range of lantern light and his silhouette was revealed. He had a full head of black hair, which didn't pass his shoulders.

The old man was fully clothed in a beggar's outfit, appearing to not be worth much more than a copper shekel. His features were haggard, time-worn, yet warm and comforting to those who peered at him for long enough. He scanned the room, then walking unhindered to a table where another old man sat waiting.

The other elder was not as progressed in age, but he had a far gloomier air about him. The area around him was suffocating to be in and the few people in the tavern had long congregated in the other corner of the room. After sitting down the warm elderly man spoke out slowly at first, " Children grow up fast."

The gloomy elder responded, "Of course, when they have knowledge of something beyond them and set a path beyond all things before them... They then grow up. Parents are then not needed." He chuckled after saying this, before placing his hand on the table. Their voices were softly spoken and clearly not audible to anyone present.

"I'm not here to take any of your lectures lets get to signing and be back to our respective corners of the universe. This world was always bad memories." The gloomy elder tapped the table and a piece of paper materialized between the two. He withdrew a pen from his sleeve, then handed it to his counterpart. The warmer man smiled, took the pen then quickly signed his initials before picking up the paper and rolling it up.

"Now it is done... I still do not know why you value these humans so much. How many times have you had to sacrifice for them since the days of the arc? Your first son? Now even your next top angel-" His voice faded along with his physical form. As his sentence concluded he was already gone and left the warm elderly man alone at the table.

The elder sighed before getting up and walking to the door of the tavern, opening it within the next moment. What laid outside was not the ruined area from his previous entrance, instead, impenetrable darkness rivaling the background of the stars and the deepest depths of the universe appeared before him. The old man stepped into it without hesitation.


A year later in a golden palace somewhere on a plane miles above the earth, a figure with a pair of white wings darted across the horizon. This figure belonged to a male, his expression was blackened as he appeared instantly above the central hall of the golden palace and landed heavily into a kneel. His voice was thunderous as he stood up, "Why has my brother been sold to the sinful?! Since when did we do deals with Lucifer and his fallen?"

"Father? Please answer me." The hall was empty but he did not seem convinced as he continued to speak out. His question was met with silence and as he was prepared to yell again. Another shadow landed behind him heavily. This new addition was adorned in silver armor and as he stood up he urgently began to speak.

"Brother Esth please calm down... You know our father has long left. Mercy has already been sent to his new fiance in the twelfth hell. We can only wish him good luck. Yelling and being frustrated at an empty room will solve nothing."

"How can I be? Our own brother was sent to the depths of help via a contract we know nothing of! This is... A disaster."

Their appearances were heavenly, so much so that their gender could not possibly be discerned from looking at them. However, right now worry and frustration covered the faces that could destroy nations.


Within a city by the name of zwölfte Hölle or well that was its nickname given by Frankish civilians. Its true name was city twelve by sequential order the local king used to list his cities. Within the heart of the city, two pairs of eyes came into contact with each other. One set was blue in entirety, refreshing to look at, comforting to the soul, and complemented by a gorgeous yet heroic face.

While the other pair was violet with a twist of fiery red on the outer edges of their iris. These violet eyes belonged to a beautiful female, who gave off an aura of death. She had no sex appeal nor did any cell in her body exude attraction unnecessarily. It appeared as if anything she wanted would be handed to her. And what she got the most of was the lives of those who went against her.