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Chapter 8: Awakening(Conclusion)

Days of yore, those of heaven and earth never meeting, a simpler time it has been. Sorrow of a minimum, one living ignorant of reality. Those earlier experiences, where the stars are remaining separate, a moment not aligning. Times in those distant days, the sky evermore blue, nights of peacefulness. Two from differing worlds meeting, one from high above, the other walking the land. Feelings growing over time, emotions for one another. Blissfulness of the occurrence, that joy turning into a nightmare, despair forever grabbing at the heart. A soul in bondage, falling to the earth. Within the distant night, a crimson moon hanging above, shining its light down on a massive castle of darkness.

A barricade around each corner, those spikes keeping away intruders. A wide field of flowers surrounding the castle even further out, malevolence thickening around the structure. Emotions ever so far inside, hatred boiling at the core. That malice never letting up, reflecting the distress of one. Standing on the balcony is a devil, his hair long and shining white, those eyes a grieving azure. Armor from the thickest of dragon scales, a dark, abysmal color reflecting the sorrow within him. A demon amongst demons, Tyrant Alastor. Memories scarring his mind, placing his hands upon the railing, hanging his head low. A painful sigh escaping the demon, those hands of his clenching the object ahead of him, aggravation ever so deep, falling to his knees.

If only...I was stronger...

That demon desiring even more power, an event plaguing his mind. That smile residing there, sadness expressing from those eyes. Powerlessness, one unable in doing anything. Times of joy inside of the past, those experiences no more. That one from the land going so far, meeting the one of the heavens. Two traveling below, growing closer over the years. Resting his vision up into the crimson moon, those eyes of his turning more into anger. That orb constantly bringing misfortune, even taking away one most dear to him.

"Daddy...?"

A voice of softness reaching out, those eyes of the demon slightly widening. Turning his attention behind him, his daughter standing by the entrance. One no more than a child, being around the age of five. That one wearing a night attire, something grabbing at her mind. That one remaining, a bond leading to a family. A constant reminder of the one ever so high, painful it is upon the devil. Rising to his feet, facing in her direction. That man well in awareness he is still having a job, even if it is excruciating.

"Cyra...it's awfully late don't you think...?" Alastor walking up to her.

Events so long ago, an unlikely friendship between two. That bond growing deeper, leading to a family. Pleasureful it has been, a most simple life. For a moment that devil having everything he can possibly desire, but in an instant the connecting point going away. A heart in so much pain, that soul yearning to soar with another. No matter so, a life but a temporary occurrence. That reality setting in, a harsh slap in the face. The girl looking down, sadness deep inside of her eyes. Cyra holding her hands to her chest, wishing for another.

"I can't sleep...when is mommy coming home...?" she depressingly questions.

Slightly looking away, difficulty for the demon. That father wondering where to even begin, parting never of easiness. A life once in joy, those times going away. One remaining, carrying on through the deepest of pain. Sinking into the abyss, desperately trying to find his way out. A sigh escaping him, placing a hand upon the shoulder of his child. Cyra's vision meeting her father's own, witnessing the sorrow deep inside of him. No doubt something is eating away at him, that girl trying to figure out what is resting on his mind.

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"Your mommy is going away for a long time..." He gently speaks.

"How long...?" she pouts.

"Hard to say really..." He looks away.

"..."

"Come on, time for you to head to bed."

Despair clawing away at the soul, a family between two. Those times of pleasure no more than inside of the past, this reality binding his heart. Lifting the girl within his arms, standing from the ground. That demon turning, resting his vision up into the velvet moon, Cyra doing the same. An object cursing the night, bringing sorrow instead of joy. Both embracing the gentle breeze, happiness once in existence, those times being no more. Desires never reaching, a light dimming by the moment. Alastor facing away, that girl looking upon her father. Cyra witnessing sorrow deep within his eyes, that demon walking onward.

Entering into Cyra's room, that ceiling extending from end to end, designing with stars. Along the walls hanging numerous portraits of areas around the world, a room slightly of messiness. Some clothes on the ground as well as dust from end to end, a natural occurrence for those of her age. That demon making his way towards a massive sapphire bed, laying her down on it. That girl resting her eyes on her father, the demon covering her with the blanket. Sitting down at her side, looking back at her. One carefully thinking of his words, well in awareness that she is far too young.

"Listen Cyra...you will have to learn this eventually." He distantly speaks.

"Learn what...?" she curiously looks towards him.

Days of joy so long ago, a young one having both their mother and father. A simpler time it has been, despite the conflict. A birth most reprehensible, yet an action paving a path towards endless possibilities. Even if her existence is a curse, that is okay. A mother no longer residing there, a father having to raise a child on his own. That demon gathering his nerves, assessing the best path going forward. Far too young she is, a most unsettling time. Questions weighing on the mind of the girl, that one wishing for answers.

"There will come a time in your life where loss is inevitable." He distantly speaks.

"Huh?"

"I mean, you can't run away from it."

"Run away from what...?"

Life of limitation, for a fleeting moment there can be joy. One from ever so high, the other walking the earth. Different they may be, but a bond growing closer over time. Feelings developing, a family coming into reality. Pleasureful it has been, but now a father having to guide his child alone. Difficult it is, Cyra not understanding much. It might be quite some years to come, but eventually that girl will learn the harshness of the worlds. Painfulness of the situation, this no less the actuality before them. A heart of fragility, a soul seeking another. Thinking on his words, a sigh escaping the Tyrant.

"You can't stop it. This means, that life will throw you challenges, some in which are too much." He tries to explain.

"You mean like why mommy is gone...?" she depressingly looks away.

"Yeah...like why mommy is gone..." Alastor distantly glancing to his right.

"..."

"Cyra..."

Truth of harshness, a dream no more. Times of joy going away, a heart yearning for another. No matter so, responsibility at hand. Even if that one is no longer with them, a constant reminder reflecting from their child. Sorrowful the morrow may be, but for a moment there can be bliss. That child's expression of sternness, confusing this situation is to her. That young one unable to fathom the reason for her mother's disappearance, uncertainty on why she will not come home. That girl wishing for the return of someone of closeness, to really be a family again.

"Even if life throws you these obstacles, it does not mean you cannot fight against it. Sometimes, selfish desires can be stronger." He stands from the bed.

Those days of the past, a Tyrant selfishly pursuing his goals. That drive leading him high above, a meeting with a certain one. Two of differences, but understanding of the other. Strict her mother may have been, but a heart of softness. That woman following reason, the devil embracing irrationality. Conflicting they are, but a powerful bond forming between the two. That child resting her eyes upon her father, his words burning deep inside of her. Alastor standing there, his head hanging low. That girl looking onward, unable to do anything. Meaningful those words of her father are, even if it is hard to decipher.

Unlike myself...who was unable to reach out, and take hold of my own desires, you might be different...