FALLEN ANGEL: MARRIED TO THE DEMON KING
Chapter 105: THE AWAKENING (1)

Chapter 105: THE AWAKENING (1)

The pain did not fade. It increased, and her vision blurred at the edges.

She tried to lift her head, to form words, but her tongue felt like lead. A sudden wave of dizziness crashed over her and her whole body fell forward and she barely supported herself on her trembling arms.

Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. The world around her was shifting, slipping in and out of focus. Sounds blurred together and the distant voices were back, and covered slightly by the sound of the rush of her own blood roaring in her ears.

Her arms quaked beneath her, the strength draining from her limbs as though the very life was being pulled from her veins. Her stomach twisted violently as nausea rose in her throat. A sharp pulse of pain stabbed through her skull, and her vision darkened further. Her fingers curled uselessly against the ground, her shoulders sagging as the last remnants of strength abandoned her.

Then—nothing.

The weight of her body gave in, and she collapsed. The world tilted, swallowed by an abyss of darkness.

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Arella woke up with a start. Her chest heaving. Her body trembled, drenched in sweat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The pain was gone—but the weight of what she had seen, what she had felt, remained.

She blinked rapidly, disoriented, expecting to still be in the void, trapped in that relentless, suffocating darkness.

But she wasn’t.

She was lying on something soft. Silk sheets. A bed. Her head throbbed, but the sensation of fabric beneath her fingertips was unmistakable. The scent of incense and parchment filled the air, mingling with something faintly floral. A cool breeze drifted in through an open window, carrying with it the distant sound of a bustling city.

Arella breathed heavily, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic. The pulse of her heartbeat hammered in her ears, as she forced herself upright on trembling limbs. The room around her felt painfully familiar, and at the same time, it was completely unfamiliar.

This was not her room in the demon king’s palace.

She immediately panicked.

The room was grand, with towering columns of pristine white stone stretching toward a vaulted ceiling. The walls were made of smooth marble, gleaming white thanks to the sunlight that filtered through sheer curtains. The curtains billowed from open doors that Arella just instinctively knew led to a balcony. Golden filigree traced intricate patterns across the high ceiling, and unfamiliar sigils glowed softly along the edges of an arched doorway.

Every detail that her gaze fell to was unfamiliar and sent a pulse of dread through her chest.

No.

This was a place she knew.

And it was a place that should not exist anymore.

"The Celestial Spire." she mumbled to herself.

Arella’s breath hitched. "Impossible."

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cold marble floor. The sensation of it was real... too real.

If it was real, then...

She rushed to the balcony, gripping the stone railing as she peered out over the city below.

Golden towers stretched endlessly before her, their spires touching the sky. Celestial beings drifted between them, their pristine wings and golden halos seemingly glowing in the sunlight The streets were filled with more of the angels, with white robes trailing behind them as they moved.

With her fists clenched, she took in deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. However, the weight of memory pressed down on her.

In her mind, she could see the place reduced to ruin, she could see towers crumbling, she could see the streets painted in the blood of her kin. She had seen the skies darken with smoke and blood.

However, it stood, alive, untouched. As though the tragedy that had struck had never come.

Her breath came faster, and her throat constricted.

A shudder wracked her body. Was this another vision? Another cruel trick of that darkness, a trick of that reflection?

She took an unsteady step back, her heart slamming against her ribs. Her breath was coming in uneven pants as she turned from the balcony, cold sweat running down her spine. The Celestial spire stood, untouched.

Her body still trembled, her mind screaming at her that none of this was right. She took unsteady steps back into the room, feeling heavy, needing something to ground herself. She walked to the bed, because perhaps if she lay back down, then the feeling of dread would wash away.

Just as she was getting close to the bed, she noticed a mirror to the side, in the far corner of the room. The full length mirror was tall, and it was framed in gold. It reflected the light that poured in from the balcony, casting a soft glow across the floor. Her steps were unsteady as she approached the mirror slowly.

Every instinct she had was telling her to stop, to walk back to the bed, to relax. However, she ignored it all, and stopped in front of the mirror.

The breath was ripped from her lungs.

The figure that stared back at her was not her.

The face was sharp, masculine, and the features strikingly familiar. The face had high cheekbones and a strong jaw that had the beginnings of a beard. The eyes that stared at her were bright and golden, with little flecks of red that looked almost similar to flames burning in her pupils. The mop of hair on the man’s face was golden blonde, and was the only thing that was similar to the body that she knew.

The golden hair was long, and tied at the top of his head in a half up half down ponytail. Some of the strands of hair framed the man’s broad chest and shoulders. With the way the sunlight hit the hair, it looked just like gold that had been spun into threads and stuck onto his head. A golden halo bobbed above his golden tresses. However, it was unlike any halo she had ever seen.

It burned like a living thing, its golden light curling into an intricate swirling pattern that was neither flame nor metal. Although Arella could see very clearly to the point of even seeing the eye color of the angel, there was a band of searing light stretched across her eyes, obscuring her eyes.

Her voice trembled as she gasped out, "What... what is this?"

This time, she noticed the deep voice that she had failed to notice when she had first mumbled out.

The reflection, as expected, did not answer her. Instead, it stood there, staring back with the same golden eyes, the same shock, the same horror.

The strength in Arella’s knees left her, and she felt herself collapse to the floor. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she barely had the presence of mind to brace herself with her hands. But even her hands, larger and rougher hands, felt wrong.

Everything felt wrong.

The sharp and rapid rise and fall of her chest was the only thing that grounded her, btu even that feeling was foreign. Her breaths were deeper, and heavier, just as how a man breathing would sound and be.

This was not real.

It could not be real.

"Wake up Arella," she whispered hoarsely, pressing trembling fingers against her temples, "Wake up, wake up. This is just but another nightmare. None of this actually exist."

Her heartbeat roared in her ears.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to return to the demon realm, where she had left a battle going on. Heck, even returning to that darkness would be better. To anything else but this. However, when she opened her eyes, the mirror was still there, and the reflection, the man, still stared back at her.

Her finger’s clenched against the cold marble floor, and a name filled her mind.

’Kratel.’

The name surged in her mind, rattling in her skull.

This body... it was not hers, despite the memories that lurked in the back of her mind.

Flashes, pieces of memories that did not belong ot her.

But no. She was not him. She was not Kratel. Everything that was happening to her was just but an illusion that did not exist. None of this existed. It was just the reflection playing a cruel joke on her.

Just as she was coming to terms with the entire situation, a heavy knock at the door made her entire body seize up.

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