Chapter 1: My Only Beginning

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How can you describe an Angel? Is it divine being, kind and beautiful, or God’s children? Would you believe it all, or just disregard the idea like many do now?

Do you believe in Angels like that in Demons? Would they be known as evil spirits, living fear, or as Lucifer’s children?  Do they exist? What would you do if you came across one?

What if you were one...

I was born in a world where Angels and Demons existed in their own realm, Baevalia, next to the human world. Humans could describe it as one door away from another, or like a plane to a foreign country. It is a different world here, yet when Angels and Demons fit together in the one realm all there is to wonder about is that, I don’t know where I fit into it all.

My mother is an Angel. My father is a Demon

...So what does that make me? Will I fit into some space that coexists with a peace between Angel and Demon?  Will I still be just Fallera?

The Guardian Angels and Elder Demons have been blind slighted. They believe that, even though Angels and Demons coexist in the same realm, that they cannot fall in love. They say that my mother once became friends with a Demon, although those times when Angels and Demons talk to each other as friends have long past since then. Now they only talk to each other if it is regarding business or educational wise. Becoming friends with a Demon is what the Guardians told us lead to terrible consequences. I am always the example of these ‘terrible consequences’. They say that after my mother befriended a Demon and the female Demon got my mother’s trust, ended up placing my mother as the betting prize on a tournament. The winner got an Angel for a night, literally. The winner of the tournament was, evidently my father. And with what happened that night, they had me to prove it.

That is only a story, half the truth. My mother did befriend a female Demon, her closest secret-friend Jadzea, but that was all the truth to the Guardians story. What they didn’t want Angels to know was the Jadzea introduced my Angel mother, Elara, to my Demon father, Urik, and they fell in love. Only we know the truth and the Guardians and Elders want to keep it that way. To prove it, they allowed my mother and father to live together as well as keeping and letting me live if we kept quiet about the stories they told to the other Angels and Elders to the Demons, yet we live remote from society. Both Angels and Demons know my mother and father live together with me, but they see it as punishment from the Guardians and Elders, as part of their consequence as well as to see the first half-breed every day and to care for me. I don’t know the stories the Demons are told about my existence and my parents because my father wanted me to be with my mother when it came to meetings with the Guardians for Angels, and not with him to meetings with the Elders for Demons.

“Anmon!” a high pitched voice teases.

 Anmon.  Angel yet Demon.

I have the urge to look up and rest my piercing gaze upon those Demons who taunt me. I know it only to be Demons who taunt me out loud as Angels whisper their insults to others of their kind, unlike Demons who are the candour ones. They should be living in fear of me. I have the power of the Angel and the Demon right in the palms of my hands. But they know I won’t do anything to them. The Angel within me won’t allow such things. But my head will... my Demon will. Every nerve, every muscle in my face tense and harden. My knuckles becoming white and I can feel the once green grass that I’m sitting on become ash at my anger. My demon inside me. Eyes downcast as my crystal blue left eye and fiery red right eye shine like the brightest flame of their colour. I can feel myself losing control but I know I must stay calm. When they look at me they only see the girl sitting on the grass, but they don’t see the real me. The other pieces of myself sitting beside me, part Angel and part Demon. The white hair, crystal blue eyes, flawless and porcelain like skin and pale pink lip of the Angel on my left; and the hair dark as night, fiery red eyes, f lawless tan skin and blood red lips of the Demon on my right; then my hazelnut brown hair, blue and red eyes, pale flawless porcelain like skin and dark rose lips of my neutral grey figure in the middle. Now my Angel is trying to find a way inside, but my Demon has already merged with my grey neutral form.

I resist the urge to circle my head back, burying in my lap with hands clutched on my head, forcing it to stay down. Only then would my ridiculers see the outline of my bones moving inside my neck, ready to transform me into something I have only came to believe yet never seen... something in-between. I have not seen it but I believe it. Every day I seem to be getting closer to unleashing its power, what I fear it will do to me... to my soul. I fear I am starting to lose control and that it will win this fight over possession on my body. I will not relent myself to this being... to my real self.

My attempt to hide my face has been mistaken for cowardliness as they continue the taunts and teases.

“Aw, don’t start hiding on us Anmon.” One Demon snickers, while the other Demons behind sound encouragement to the main Demon mocker continues, making my suffering over control and composure from my inner self being worn down.

I know what I would look like if it takes control over me. I have seen it in my dreams. Nightmares. Plum coloured skin, tough like leather. Wide shining eyes, left piercing blue, right dramatic ruby red. Black lips, cheeks look hollow from prominent bones under little layers of skin. Hair ablaze of blood red  trail straight down my back, brushing around my dark black Angel like wings, each feather tip alight with a violet fire, yet my skin smooth and even with no imperfections. I would be beautiful, if I wasn’t really a monster.  I will never let myself become like this. I don’t wonder what life would be like as this thing. As an Anmon.  Yet I can feel myself slipping each day, the taunting and mockery becoming worse and my fear that it will climax at the loss of my self control. I can feel it happening now. For the first time I can feel a tickle on my back, where my black violet-tip flamed Angel wings should be. They’re coming and I just hope I am not too late. As suddenly as I can feel myself changing, the monster is pulled far away. Something has happened.

 A touch. My spine tingles as a hand rests upon my shoulder. The taunting has stopped.

 The world silent.

My hands numbly release their tight grip on my hair to rest in my lap as my head travels up until I’m looking at the person who has made my world stop, my monster silent and my heart race.  To think a small touch could do that. His hair as dark as night falls across his fiery red eyes and with lips as red as blood, along with sharp prominent bones that align his face covered by flawless tan skin. To think that anyone would be afraid to touch the Anmon, Angel and Demon alike, but no ordinary Demon would touch me, and Aizel is no ordinary Demon at all.

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