It was the fact that someone had been dragged into it alive.
The demonic realm had no known originNo recorded beginning.
A place that simply existed—hostile, ancient, and wrong.
Deep within the cellars of the demonic palace, Lopez was imprisoned.
The first thing Lopez tasted when consciousness clawed its way backmetal
Not blood.
Not dust.
Metal—cold, bitter, suffocating
Her eyelids fluttered open to nothing but thick darknesssickly, heart-like glowalive
Lopez tried to move.
Her wrists jerked, stopped, and were yanked back harshlydug into her skinhurtfight
Her breath trembled
hoarse
The air was sharp, acrid, sulfuricburnedrejected her presence
Their tones were indifferent—cold, routine.
To them, she wasn’t a person.
She was an anomaly. A mistake.
Lopez tried to speak, but her throat felt like sandpaperthrobbed
a stabbing
A familiar
A whisper.
A blade.
A voice she trusted as colleague
Then darkness.
Her pulse racedfoggedcold, lonely panicterror, raw and unrelenting.
She sagged against the stone, the chains rattling softly.
fragile, trembling
Her eyes rolled back as exhaustion dragged her under
Against her will.
Far from the Abyss, under a sky carved with ancient constellationssilver
Tall spires of obsidian stretched toward the moon.
Blue fire lanterns flickered along narrow stone paths.
The night was aliveold tales
Inside a quiet residential chamber lit by pale moonlight, a young vampire boy climbed onto his mother’s lap, clutching her sleeve.
She chuckled softly and wrapped her arms around him.
He nodded eagerly
The mother’s voice dipped into a warm, ancient melody
“The Angel’s Gift”
The room seemed to still
The boy’s eyes widened
Her voice grew softer… haunted.
The lantern flickered like a heartbeat about to stop.
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The boy tensed
The mother’s gaze softened as she remembered the next part—
a part she had heard whispered by her own elders.
whispered
The mother smiled, bittersweet
The boy’s eyes sparkled
The boy didn’t know why, but hearing the story always made his heart ache a little
She laughed softly and kissed his forehead.
Outside, the night wind swept through the kingdom, carrying the scent of old magicforgotten truths
Truths even the mother did not know.
Truths about the Mythical Angel she spoke of so fondly—
the Angel whose light once saved the world in stories…
Joseph stood alone in his father’s chamber, the cold quietpale and lonely
Slowly, the moon began to blur
Its edges softened first, then meltedsmeared furtherdissolvedvanishedshallow
The moonlight folded into darkness.
And then thunder split the sky
Joseph’s eyes opened—yet they were not his eyes now. He looked through the vision, trapped somewhere between himself and the child he once was. He stood in a storm-drenched forestviolent and alivecrashedblinding whitehowled
Someone was carrying him.
Arms wrapped protectively
His heart recognized
It was that night.
half-whisper, half-sob
Aria turned her head sharply at the sound. Rain clung to her face in trembling rivuletsterrified yet filled with unbearable love
trembled
Joseph felt the child in her arms cling weaklynever slowedsoaked, shivering, terrified, but refusing to stop
The vision flickered
The forest vanished
The storm faded
When sight returned, Joseph found himself in a dim cavebitingtremblingsharp and icy
Aria’s breath shuddered violentlynearly bluestiffrefusing to let go
Then—
Footsteps. Heavy. Numerous.
Joseph felt her body stiffen
The flickering glow of torches leaked into the cave entrance. Flames swayed restlesslyrough and impatient
sharp as steel
Aria’s head turned. Fear washed across her face.fragile frame
Her gaze dropped to Joseph.
She tried to smile. It was the softest, saddest smilebroken at the edges
cracking
save
but to pull death away from him.
Joseph—through the vision—felt her heartbeat racing
“
“
Her words trembled like a fragile prayer
She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Her lips were cold and shakingmemorizing him
Her hands lingered on him for one last second
Then she pulled away
Aria stood up, fists clenchedshakingdidn’t look back
The shout exploded
Torches surgedpoundedhungry for blood
Joseph—both the child in the memory and the man witnessing it—felt himself slippingdimmedfaded
His mother’s voice echoed through the collapsing memory, soft and distant
The vision shattered
Joseph stumbled back from the window, breath tremblingshooksilently
He hadn't even realized he was crying until he felt the wetness.
Quickly, he wiped them away with the sleeve of his coat. His breath steadied, inch by inch, emotion pulling itself back into a quiet cornerheaviness
He lifted his gaze and turned toward his father lying in the bed behind him. His reflection wavered faintly on the mirror on the wall, mirroring a resolve
His voice was low, steady, lined with unyielding determination
His hand curled into a fist
not with fear, but with the weight of everything he was about to face.
Season Two.
after awakening,
when power is no longer a mystery, but responsibility becomes one.
Now, he must face why he was made this way—and who benefited from it.
The night has only just begun to remember him.
Ak31
