Angels wear their golden hair long like the rays of the sun. Their blue eyes vast like the sky in which they soar. Skin smooth and flawless, the canvas to their stunning features.

Angels are perfect. God’s greatest creation.

And God loved Lailah best of all.

She was blessed with white hair, the purest light in all of heaven. Her blue eyes clear, deep, and endless. Skin that glowed like the moon on the calmest of nights. The only being that was nearly as beautiful as she was her mother, and her mother before her, and her mother before her. God took special favor with each one.

But God loved Lailah best of all.

Until he didn’t.

Lailah stared down at the long, white tresses in her delicate hand, the brush running through each immaculate strand with care. She took her time in freeing it from tangles, smoothing it perfectly straight. It was the light.

The only light in the darkness.

She watched that light slip through her fingers and onto the stone floor as eyes tilted up to look at her.

Crimson.

A reminder that she was in hell.

“Are you okay?”

The child was so beautiful, his voice soft and gentle, his face radiant and charming. Never had Lailah seen a child who exuded such an air of supremacy in every fiber of their being, lighting the darkness around them.

As bright and warm as the sun.

He would have been a gift.

A miracle.

The most precious thing.

Even more than herself.

But his eyes.

She should have never left the safety of the heavens. She should have never been so foolish. But there was no way for her to ignore the calling from the land below; imploring her to come, to walk on its soil, to breathe its air, to taste its water. She had begged her father, his refusal stern and unbudgeable. She had pleaded with her mother, seeing the same longing in her eyes, but the woman would never disobey her husband, just as she never disobeyed her father when she had tried the same.

But Lailah was not her mother.

She thought she knew better.

So, under the cover of night, she had snuck away and escaped the walls of The Kingdom. What a delight it had been for her bare feet to step through grass so green, to pluck flowers so full and aromatic, for her skin to be caressed by the soft, cooling breeze.

To feel, for the first time, that her soul was complete.

And it was until an arm wrapped around her waist and a hand around her throat. Cold lips against her ear.

You’re mine now.

And she felt her soul wither and fade away.

She had thought she knew better. That she was better. But all she was was a spoiled little girl in the body of a woman. The pampered daughter of a duke who was presumptuous and ignorant to the existence of the atrocities around her having spent her entire life being coddled and tended to. Praised and admired for being nothing more than the picture of perfection.

How was she to have known that her insolence would invoke the wrath of the God that had loved her so?

And that He would punish her forevermore?

Small hands reached out, brushing against the tears on her cheeks. “Please don’t cry.”

Her own hands snapped up, snatching the thin wrists tightly and ripping them away. “Don’t touch me!” she whispered forcefully, releasing them as quickly as she had grabbed them, the sensation of trails of fire burning into her palms.

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He pulled them away and clenched them tightly in his lap, crimson scurrying away in shame. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

She had no love for the child, but she pitied him so. It wasn’t his fault. No child ever asked to be born. He had been created from terror and suffering and she had carried him within her, birthed him, begged to keep him near. She despised him, but still, she came to him for comfort only to be repulsed by the sight of him all while needing him all that much more. For a reminder of what she once had before she lost it all. Even though he was proof that her life was over.

She had nothing else.

“Outside of these walls,” she spoke quietly, drawing forth from the memories in her mind, the corners of her mouth curving up towards the forlorn of her eyes. “There’s the sun. It’s beautiful, and warm, and it gives life to everything.”

The boy stared down at the hands in his lap, knowing better than to speak when she was.

“There’s the moon, and it lights the night, chasing the darkness away. There’s so much more outside of this horrible fortress. This is no place for anyone other than a devil. I want to be away from here. I want to be away from your father.”

The child looked up, a small, sweet smile on his lips. “Can I go with you?”

Her hand shot out, covering his mouth, crushing his fleeting joy. “Don’t look at me like that!” she shrieked as she squeezed tighter, watching his eyes widen with the ever-increasing pressure to his face. “Don’t ever look at me like that!”

He sat frozen, crimson silently watching her as she felt her chest constrict the oxygen from her lungs, an unendurable inferno devouring her completely. Quickly, she pulled her hand back while his head dropped to hide his face, obeying her demand. She stared in dismay at her palm, her fingers.

What had she become?

He was only a child.

Something so pure and deserving of protection.

When had she become a monster?

Just like the devil.

Just like the boy.

“I’m so sorry.” There never seemed to be an end to her tears. “I should have never left. I should have never birthed you. You’re an abomination. I’m so sorry. I should have tried to kill you when there was still a chance. What have I done? I’m so sorry for doing this to you.”

The sobs racked her body and she held onto herself. The child did not reach out again. Did not look up. He kept his head down, his voice silent. The way he was supposed to.

The sound of footsteps found their way into the room and Lailah wiped at her face as she frantically got to her feet, trying to conceal the evidence of her misery. She didn’t have time to move away from the boy before the door creaked open, and the tall, burly devil stood in the entrance.

“Why are you here again, Woman?” His voice deep and emotionless, his relentless gaze consuming her.

She looked away, the dread building. “I’m sorry.”

The devil’s eyes abandoned her to focus on the timid creature curled on the ground. “You fed it again, didn’t you?”

Her mouth gaped open and closed, fear causing the words to stick in her throat and choke her.

He walked to the angel, grabbing her chin and jerking it up. She looked into his blood red eyes, his thick black hair unruly around his shoulders, his face rough and weathered and riddled with scars. “I asked you a question. Answer me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It was only a little bread and water. I won’t do it again.”

“You said that last time. And the time before.”

“I’m so sorry.”

His eyes returned to the child, cold and spiteful, before releasing her and turning away. “Leave it. We’re going.”

She looked back at the boy sitting on the ground, the words falling before she could stop them. “He needs a name.”

“It needs to die. Come now, Woman.”

“Please.” She latched onto his arm, her eyes pleading. “A child needs a name.”

Why was she doing this?

What did it matter?

Neither of them would ever escape this hell.

He glared down at her. “That child is a monster.”

Just like her.

“Please.”

He pulled his arm from her and walked towards the door. “That child is nothing. You may call it Zero. Are you pleased now? Let’s go.”

She looked back at the child.

Zero.

She had no love for him. But she couldn’t stop herself from trying. From wanting to.

It was so hard.

“I hate you, Zero,” she whispered as she followed the devil from the room.

She walked behind him, aware of where they were going. The same place they always went. To do the same things they always did. He pushed the door open, and they entered his chambers, a room that was void of any warmth despite the torches that lit it in their flickering glow. The devil sat on his bed, just as he always did, waiting for her to approach, his eyes burning with hunger and desire.

He had begun taking more and more from her. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would last.

She couldn’t wait for that day to come.

With trembling fingers, she unclasped her cloak and allowed it to slip from her shoulders and onto the ground, leaving her in only an ivory silk gown that provided no protection from the constant chill in the air.

For being in a devil’s fortress in the middle of the desert, it was always so cold.

Only the child’s room ever held any warmth.

With slow and hesitant steps, she went to her captor and climbed onto his lap.

This wouldn’t last much longer.

He looked into her sky-blue eyes, and her into his blood red.

It would all be over soon.

He took her wrist in his rough hand, his skin like shards of ice against hers.

Let it be over.

Brought it to his lips.

Let her be free.

Fangs sunk down into pale flesh.

Please.

And he drank from her.