She was gone.

Abandoned by the heavens.

Lost to the land.

And all he had left of her was this child that had only been of this world for a few short hours, and her sword tucked away in his closet.

His sword.

Her sword.

The child’s sword.

Ren’s.

Raz looked down at the infant asleep in his arms, the boy not having the cognizance to even begin considering the position he was in, only having the ability to completely trust the man in keeping him safe and comfortable. He was so peaceful, so precious, with his flurry of ebony hair as soft as silk and tiny matching wings sprouting from his shoulder blades. He still had the fluids of birth on his supple skin and only a small, thin blanket to protect him from a world he should have never been born into. But yet, here he was, his small chest rising and falling with every breath, proof of his existence.

This child was an abomination.

An irredeemable soul that was best culled before he could form into something more.

Something to be feared.

But how could Raz ever look at him that way?

This new life was a miracle.

Had it been his own child, then he would have been certain of the evil within it.

The seed of which he, the father, would have planted.

The same way that it had been planted in him.

But not Celeste’s child.

Not Ben’s.

They could never create such a thing.

It was a sin for this child to be born.

It would be a sin to kill him.

“Raziel.”

He pulled his attention away from the boy and looked up at the men before him sitting in their grand chairs on their elevated platform that made nearly a complete circle around him, a halo of blond hair and white wings. Of purity. Of piousness.

Of filth.

What a surreal feeling.

To be looked down upon by those who had always had to look up.

To be judged by those less worthy.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

To be viewed with such contempt as he held the object of their disgust.

The same exact way that he viewed them.

He had made sure to bring the child to The Kingdom first. To this room devoid of warmth with its marble pillars leading to a domed ceiling that he himself had sat beneath countless times, doling out judgment as though he were in any true position to do so. A place he had vowed to never come back to.

But he had come back.

Before they could come to him.

Before they could mark him a traitor.

And take away his prayer.

His rank.

His title.

They could have it all now.

But he would have what he wanted first.

Raz held the boy closer, his smooth cheek snuggling against his chest. “I pray for this child’s life. He will be mine, and I will take responsibility for his upbringing. I will raise him as my own on the land. He will not be punished for being fallen. He will not suffer for the wrongdoings of others.”

The voices that rose were deafening, indecipherable, growing louder and louder with the anger caused by his betrayal and the helplessness of being unable to deny him.

“Raziel.” Came a voice of reason, a plea for mercy. “I understand that this is Celeste’s child, and that you feel loyalty towards her and a responsibility for her mistakes. But those were hers and hers alone. You cannot pay for her sins. You know what must be done. This child cannot be allowed to survive.”

“Word is word,” he told them. “I have made my decision. The child will live.”

“He is no ordinary child. He is of your blood, and more so than any other child, will be the greatest threat to The Kingdom. To God. He may be innocent and helpless now, but he will not stay that way. He will one day grow into a man that no one can control. He will seek to claim that which is God’s. You must understand this.”

He did understand.

But none of it mattered.

The only thing that did was the warm breath that caressed his neck with every exhale from the boy.

And he would do anything to protect that.

“The child will live.”

“You are going against Him by placing this creature first. You know what this means for you.”

He did.

And he would suffer for it.

Eternally.

So that the child wouldn’t have to.

“You will strip me of my God-given birth right. You will take my eye. You will scar my face and body. You will allow me back on land, and then you will shred my wings. But you will not kill this child. No harm will come to him by your hands.”

And they did take from him.

As slowly and painfully as possible.

They dug out his eye and set it before him, so he could bear witness to what he was to become. They tore into his flesh, ripping and tearing it apart, deep enough so that it would never heal, and then they went deeper before setting it ablaze and searing it together.

They cast him from the heavens back to the sullied land below where they plucked the feathers and shredded the skin and snapped the bones, ensuring that the once grand wings would never see flight again.

And then they left the filth that they had created behind.

Raz had held the child through it all, too afraid to part with him for even a moment.

Not once did the child cry.

But now alone.

Did he open his eyes.

Blue.

Not of the sky like his father’s.

But like the ocean.

Like hers.

Like his.

The eyes of their House.

A gift from God.

Raz placed his finger against the tiny fist.

It opened and accepted it, holding it tight.

The boy’s lips parted, the sweetest of coos escaping.

Speaking to his uncle.

A thank you?

A warning?

How was he to know?

Only time would tell.

The child yawned, eyelids slipping closed.

And fell back into slumber.

Tranquil.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

Staring down at the boy’s face, so similar to his own, the last question they had asked repeated in his head.

“What will you do when the darkness comes for him?”

And Raz had responded.

“I will kill him myself.”

But he knew he would never need to.

Fore it was they who were evil.

And this child was love.