The devil was anxious.

His arms quaked with fear, even with the lightest of feathers that rested in his large hands. The baby softly cried, his child — kept making noise. Panic seeped in; what had he done? Blood continued to slither across the grass to stain it in red that shone gold. His reflection rippled in the thick of it, the body of his lover; his wife, this child's mother, lay motionless with nothing but a mellow smile left. The Queen of Latriah was no more. Not due to any malice, but rather, to the purest of love she had ever felt. The warmth and embrace that cost her everything. Now her lover was left to “pick up the pieces.”

And for that devil, he hadn’t the slightest clue where to start.

These feelings seemed to expand the more he thought. They latched onto his heart, digging into it with fangs of guilt and sorrow. He had never felt anything like this before, in his many millennia alive. A heat across his cheeks, a line of pink with beads of sweat to dance. A being of divine power should feel no such things. All the warmth in his face, the build-up of tears in his sharp eyes, it was all a reminder that even he had a shred of humanity. Something that was forcefully carved into his heart. A gift meant to last forever, or at least for many more years to come.

That sparkle of light, humanity, started to slip away. He gazed upon his offspring, the wailing and whining grew louder and louder the longer he held her. He couldn’t father something like this. Such a frail and weak child… that gripped onto his finger, seemingly asking for warmth. Something that he could not give. The crying was painful, not only to hear but… to walk away from. The child’s hands, or perhaps a soul from beyond, pulled on his red strings. He gritted his teeth, fangs laying bare — with a glare in his eyes, but tears as a mask. He had no right to be the father of this human, even if they were bound by blood.

The child now sprawled by her dead mother. It was out of the devil’s hands. Gentle scents of salt laced the air, as ironclad boots bounced against the earth in an annoyingly systemic rhythm. As the footsteps grew louder, the devil shifted away behind a large tree. The width of the trunk was just enough to hide away his massive body. In a mere moment, an elderly woman sprinted into the open plain. She was dressed shabbily, in commoner's rags mostly covering up her entire frame. The only pop of color was in the child she held in her arms.

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Amidst her motion, she tripped face-first against a large root, landing centimeters away from the crimson pool. A shriek and ghastly scream filled the devil’s ears; followed by a thud. Abrasively, she shot back up onto her knees, examining the body that rested in front of her.

Her sweaty palms raised the lady’s head. “My queen, who-how, what has happened-” The woman cried.

The child she had dropped now stood up beside her, without an ounce of fear in her eyes. Not quite a baby, maybe around two or three years old. Her eyes were akin to an ocean. That messy blonde hair… and those damned wings. They were tiny, but there was no mistaking it. All she needed was a filthy halo, but if she was down here in the mortal realm, that could only mean one thing anyway. Thrown away by Mikael, like garbage, to be a treasure for humans. A pitiful fate.

That small angel continued to stare at the lonely baby, her expression practically melting by the second. The cold and calm demeanor slowly started to fade away — morphing into a gaze filled with warmth. She got down on her knees, folding back her legs to sit, and picked up the child. Her hands were steady, one around the body, and the other gently resting on her chest. A kinder smile poked its way through, as the sun also gleamed its way through the clouds, illuminating the small space they all occupied. The elderly woman tried to compose herself amidst the sun's sudden gaze. She shouted incoherent nonsense at the little angel, before turning tail the way she came from.

However, nothing changed for that girl.

She continued to hold the baby dear, with words of a sweet sort leaving her lips. As the minutes went by, more guards and the woman came rushing back to the scene. The panicked looks on their faces didn’t match what they had come back to in the slightest. With the grass beginning to glow, it had seemed the queen’s blood gave birth to new life — in more ways than one.

Flowers began to bloom without a care in the world. They swayed along the currents of wind, slowly adrift to surround the two girls. The hue of petals matched almost perfectly with the tones of blue illuminating the sky. In the center of it all were the two of them, somehow creating a protective bubble against the suffering of the outside world. Life was in motion but at the same time, everything felt still. The angel held the baby without a dime of knowledge. Choosing to give her compassion and empathy as if it were instinct itself. It was the perfect reason — ostensibly none at all.

With the crying lulling and slowly blending into the serene world around them.