The days that followed were filled with an uneasy quiet, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Celeste could not shake the feeling that something had changed—something beyond her comprehension. The strange voice, the eyes that had burned with unearthly power, haunted her every waking moment. She could no longer ignore the unsettling presence that seemed to linger in the air, as if something—or someone—was watching her every move.
She had spent hours staring into the mirror, hoping for some explanation, some sign that what she had seen was just a figment of her imagination. But the reflection remained the same, showing only her pale, delicate features and the faint glow of the sigil on her collarbone.
But deep within her, a whispering truth began to form, like a distant echo from a dream. She could no longer deny it—the voice, the eyes, the power—they were connected to her, to her husband. Azrael.
Her heart trembled at the thought. What had become of him? What had he become?
As she sat in the grand hall of Evernight Manor, her mind adrift in confusion, the heavy wooden doors suddenly swung open. A cold gust of wind swept into the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the hall.
Celeste's breath caught in her throat as she turned toward the door. Standing there, framed by the darkened doorway, was a figure she had not seen in two years.
Azrael.
But he was not the man she remembered. His tall frame, draped in dark, intricate armor, filled the doorway with an aura of power that sent a chill racing down her spine. His eyes—those same glowing crimson eyes—locked onto hers with a piercing intensity, as if he could see straight into her soul. The air around him seemed to hum with an energy that felt both foreign and familiar to her, as though the very fabric of the world bent to his will.
Celeste's heart pounded in her chest as she stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do, unsure of what was real anymore. She had waited for him for so long, but now that he was standing before her, she found herself unable to move.
Azrael stepped into the room, his presence overwhelming. The door slammed shut behind him with a force that rattled the walls, but it was as though the rest of the world had faded away. Only he and Celeste remained in the vast, empty space.
"Celeste," he spoke, his voice low and commanding, yet laced with something far softer, far more intimate. "You've waited for me."
Her heart ached at the sound of his voice, but her mind was filled with questions. "Why did you leave me?" she asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.
Azrael's gaze softened, and for a moment, the hardness in his eyes seemed to fade. He stepped closer, his presence filling the space between them. "I had no choice," he replied, his voice heavy with regret. "There are things you do not understand, things I could not tell you. But I've come back now. And I will not leave you again."
Celeste felt a strange pull toward him, an unexplainable connection that seemed to draw her closer, as if their fates had always been intertwined. But she could not shake the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling her, something he was keeping hidden in the depths of his gaze.
"What are you?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity. "What is it you've become?"
Azrael hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. There was a flicker of something dark in his gaze, something ancient and untamable, but then it was gone, replaced by a quiet sorrow.
"I am the one who was bound to you," he said, his tone solemn. "The Demon Alpha King."
Celeste's breath caught in her throat. The words seemed to echo in her mind, but they made no sense. A demon? The Demon Alpha King? It couldn't be true. There was no such thing. At least, not in her world.
But his eyes—they were filled with an undeniable truth.
"I don't understand," she whispered, her heart pounding as confusion and fear threatened to overtake her.
Azrael stepped closer, gently cupping her face with his large, gloved hand. His touch was warm, grounding her in the midst of the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume her.
"You will," he said softly, his voice a promise. "You will understand soon enough. But for now, you must trust me. You are not like other women. You have power within you—powers that have been hidden from you for far too long."
Celeste's mind raced. Powers? What was he talking about? She had always felt different, but she had never known why. There had been strange occurrences—things she couldn't explain—but she had never dared to believe it was anything more than coincidence.
Azrael's gaze softened, and for the first time since his arrival, there was a hint of tenderness in his eyes. "I will protect you, Celeste. But there are forces at play that will not rest until they have what is yours."
The words sent a shiver down her spine, but there was no time to question them. She had waited so long for Azrael's return, but now that he was here, the weight of the world seemed to press down on her shoulders.
And so, as he reached for her hand, Celeste felt the strange pull of destiny surrounding them both. She did not yet understand the full scope of the power she possessed, nor the dangerous world she had been thrust into, but she knew one thing for certain—her life, as she had known it, was over.
The moment Azrael stepped closer, the world around Celeste seemed to freeze. Every part of her screamed to move, to run, but her feet felt glued to the cold marble floor beneath her. Her heart raced, the sound of its frantic thudding drowning out the quiet whisper of the wind outside.
He was too close.
Her eyes darted nervously to his strong, imposing form, towering over her. His presence seemed to fill the room, overwhelming in a way that left her breathless and disoriented. She could feel the weight of his gaze, sharp as a blade, pricking at her skin.
"Celeste," he said softly, his voice low and commanding, yet strangely gentle. "You don't need to be afraid."