Screams filled his ears.
The once great capital of the Celestial Plains was falling, and all its citizens could do was watch. Watch as more of them fell prey to the flames.
"Find her," His brother ordered, "I'll take care of the queen."
The Demon Prince nodded to his brother before he turned and made his way through the fire. The heat licked at his crimson scales, but no fire could burn him. With a flick of his pointed tail it rose into an even greater inferno, and he laughed as cracks appeared in the marble walls of the palace. Destruction came so easy to him.
He and his brother had come to the Celestial Plains with this very image in their minds: the white city in ruins. Queen Layla and her subjects were by far the biggest threat to their cause. If she had allied with the faeries, they would have lost the war.
They didn't give her a chance.
Spying the tower where he was sure his target was located, the Demon Prince spread his great red wings and launched himself into the air. He paused a moment once airborne, taking in the scale of the destruction that lay below him. Zeref's minions ran rampant through the streets; killing and burning and torturing and gods knew what else. Even now, he waited for the feeling of disgust to hit him. These soldiers were following the orders of his brother, after all. But the feeling never came. He'd grown numb to this life a long time ago.
He turned away from the awful scene with a scowl on his face, and flew towards the top of the tower. A window allowed him access to the circular room located at the top, but it was a small window. He hunched forward as he landed, gripping the window ledge with his clawed hands in order to steady himself. He folded his wings and dropped forward into the room.
He cast his red eyes about, and there she was. Cowering on the floor.
Her delicate features held the same expression as most people who laid eyes on him. The more religious of his victims had labelled him 'the devil incarnate', and he knew where they were coming from with their line of reasoning. The scales that coated much of his body, his red wings, his horns, his clawed hands that were so often coated in blood. You could die at the sight of END, some said.
The girl he'd come to kill, the Princess of the Celestial Plains, looked as though she could be one of those who died at the sight. Her brown eyes were wide with terror, and her whole body shook violently as though the city below them was freezing, not burning.
He looked back over his shoulder as the city crossed his mind, his gaze flitting back to the window. The light from below bled into the night sky, coating the horizon in a deep red that faded into black. The cities people would die under the stars they loved so much. Worshippers of light who lived under the darkness.
He turned back to the girl. Ah, she so clearly belonged to this city, he thought. The Princess seemed an embodiment of light. Dressed in a long white gown, her pale skin was adorned with gold bracelets on her wrists and upper arms. Golden hair fell loose around her shoulders, some falling in front of her face as though that would be enough to hide her from his sight.
He stepped forward, and her bare feet scrambled to push her further away from him, but her back had already hit the wall. The closer he got, the smaller she tried to make herself. She brought her knees up to her chest, her small fists coming up in front of her face, as though believing that if she couldn't see him, he couldn't see her.
"You don't have to be afraid." He told her, and he meant it. Dying was easy, he'd done it before.
Her trembling worsened, which he had not thought possible, and the room filled with the sounds of her sobs. He sighed to himself. He wasn't going to enjoy this. At all. And because his brother wasn't here, he wouldn't have to pretend to.
