♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ •⋅ Azrael ⋅• ♱The child began to be able to move gradually, in a way that was still a little time consuming and different from his usual, from the child who ran around and insisted so much to have his little body in that garden.His speech had returned too, his voice was less guttural, more understandable and a smile that was not painful could be seen, one that was not put on that face just because of the melancholy of Callisto."Look! You can move your arms better now" the quartz eyes were flickering as you said that as something equivalent to Loren’s first steps, as if that was some kind of novelty that should be celebrated with various gifts and a party "how is your breathing? Something still burns?" tried to caress that small face as if it was something that would break by any slip on his part.Loren was now like a valuable piece of porcelain, one that could not risk being damaged after being restored."I’m fine, Dad..." the child’s voice was still low when to
♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C ⋅• ♱ •⋅ Azrael ⋅• ♱I watched her without realizing it, watched until the sun was setting and the barrier surrounding Samael’s plan was thinner, until the rune fragment she sent me was strong enough to enter."Don’t be an idiot," I remembered as my wings throbbed, "there’s no room for kindness, not after all you’ve done, don’t be such a hypocrite".I swallowed hard and a smile easily appeared on my lips when I crossed. It was like a fog touching my skin, a comfortable cold, a feeling I had missed even without realizing it.What the hell was I thinking? What was going on with me?I closed my eyes tightly, but my wings just beat, just took me there, to that breathless breath and that smile that could be felt in her voice when she called me."Azrael!" His arms wrapped around my neck and... had they always been so warm?"I thought you couldn’t come..." whispered her face down to my neck, I could feel her lips arched into a smile "okay? Did you get hurt getting past the barri
♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ There was much to be said regarding history, but nothing left me as astounded as that. The firm, warm arms of the man I had always dreamed of were around me, and he looked at me with a smile in his violet eyes that I admired so much. He seemed real. "What's the matter?" he asked me with a hoarse and gentle voice. "Ahm... nothing," I replied, questioning whether all of this was a dream or not. But he was still there, and his eyes closed as he embraced me. Indeed, this was one of the best dreams I had ever had. "Sir," a male voice called out to him, and I saw Calisto raise his face with displeasure. "What the hell do you want?" he grumbled. "We heard something that might interest you, sir," the man said, and a shiver ran down my spine. "I'm busy," he said, burying his face in my back. I could feel his breath on my bare skin, warming my face. "Sir," the man insisted, and by now, I knew what would happen. I had read and reread that scene thousands of times, so
♱ •⋅ 1750 A.C. ⋅• ♱ I needed time, and I needed to be sure. Even though it was a vivid dream, I needed to be sure that I wouldn't alter things too much; otherwise, everything would spiral out of control. I blinked a few times in front of the mirror. It was still surprising how attractive Asra was. I had envied her when I first read the book, but now, seeing her delicate face, her naturally rosy lips, and how she seemed meticulously designed, it only increased my envy. Asra could have had any man, demon, or angel; she just needed to want it, but she chose death over losing something she never had: Calisto's love. I sighed, and the maids hurried into the room and dressed me without delay. It was apparent they were scared. After all, Asra was never known for her kindness, charity, patience, or gentleness. "S-sorry, milady," one of them stuttered as she tried to fix the hem of my dress after accidentally stepping on it without my notice. I sighed again. "Don't worry," I simply said.
♱ •⋅ 1750 A..C. ⋅• ♱ She floated above the cathedral, her golden eyes shining, her body completely covered by a white cloak. It was as if I was seeing Mary herself—the chosen virgin by the heavens to bear the life of the one who would save all humanity. Elaine was equivalent to Mary, but her beauty was undoubtedly superior. I wasn't surprised that Calisto had fallen in love with her or accepted death for loving that woman. Elaine was like a deity in a fragile, delicate, and mortal body; she was a strong and determined heroine who was willing to do anything to fulfill what her God had commanded. I couldn't deny that I admired Elaine. Not only for winning over Calisto—my great literary crush—but also for dedicating herself to a cause as she did (even though secretly I considered it foolish when the reason was something like religion and ancient, archaic beliefs like hers). "By the nine hells," Calisto grumbled, and I could see his pink eyes burning with anger. He hated situations whe
♱ •⋅ 1750 B. C. ⋅• ♱ She was too strong, and I could feel my breath getting heavier as she lunged at me again. I knew there would be an opening; Elaine always left a gap when she assumed an offensive stance. That was the point Calisto used several times to bring her down to the ground, giving readers some sighs when they almost kissed. I would use that opening. Was Calisto watching? Was he still paying attention to me? I admit my thoughts were foolish, but I can't say I'm ashamed because even if it were a dream, it would be nice to be the sole source of his interest. The only one he would look at, even if only during a fight. Even if out of self-interest. But if that's what I wanted, I couldn't give up. I couldn't fall and couldn't let Elaine knock me down or land a hit. "Come at me," I murmured almost inaudibly, and I could feel my body grow heavy and my skin burn as magical runes appeared, cutting into my flesh. It was the mark of Asra's family, but this dream was becoming too
♱ ⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅ ♱ "You... were you worried?" I couldn't help asking, and Callisto looked at me as if that was the stupidest thing Asra had ever asked him in his entire life. Of course, I should know. Callisto couldn't care less about his concubine, but then... what the hell did it all mean? "You..." he paused, his lips ajar. I smiled. "I'm sorry, darling," I said, sitting down on the bed. I should leave. "What exactly are you apologizing for?" Her voice was serious again. I didn't know how to answer, this was certainly one of the few answers I didn't have to give him, so I looked to the window for anything I could use. He snorted. "Are you apologizing for almost killing yourself? For being impulsive? For..." he stopped and even without looking I could hear his footsteps approaching the bed, "what the hell do you have on your head?" "Brain matter and horns" I replied with a smile, turning my face to look at him, but Callisto didn't smile back. "I could..." he stopped again.
♱ ⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅ ♱ He was still there when I woke up, and he was still there the next night and the next. He was always there when my eyes opened, his fingers touching my skin with an almost theatrical care. It was different from history, it was almost the complete opposite, and I could remember Asra's words perfectly. He did not come to see me that night, and the next night he did not come either. After Azrael came to my room and took Callisto with him, I did not see the king for many, many days. At least until I walked through the garden and came across him and a beautiful girl one night with a crimson moon, talking in front of the blood fountain. He was smiling. That was the moment Asra knew that she had lost Callisto. That nothing could bring him back into her arms, because Elaine could give him something she could not: a love beyond physical touch. A love like that of his first wife. Pure, friendly, and that pushed him to be someone better. But Asra could never achieve somet