FALLEN ANGEL: MARRIED TO THE DEMON KING
Chapter 68: VERY MANY YEARS AGO (SIDE STORY)

Chapter 68: VERY MANY YEARS AGO (SIDE STORY) <VARZIEL’S POV>

It was cold.

Very cold.

A little boy lay on a rough piece of cloth, his body wrapped by a pair of feathery black wings. His stomach growled in protest, reminding him of the many days he had gone without food.

The wind howled outside the ruined shelter; it’s icy breath slipped through the cracks in the crumbling walls. He tightened the grip on his wings, drawing them closer around his frail frame in an attempt to protect his body from the biting cold.

It had been days since he had seen his father, but the memory of the older man’s warm stare and embrace was slowly fading like a dream he could not quite grasp. Varziel’s father had promised he would return, but each passing day without him chipped away at that promise, leaving behind only a hollow ache in the middle of Varziel’s chest.

Still, he tried to remain positive. No matter how hard it got, his father had never failed to keep his promises. His father had always tried his best to make him happy.

The shelter his father had left him at had been empty and old.

Very old.

Varziel could only shiver as the wind clawed at the fragile walls of the shelter. The wings on his back, which had wrapped around him, did next to nothing to keep him warm. The sky was dark, and snow had piled up outside, some seeping into the shelter through the cracks.

Varziel curled into himself, trying to make his small body as compact as possible to retain as much body heat as he could. His breath came out in short, visible puffs, dissipating into the icy air. His wings, though a part of him felt as awkward as they always did.

They involuntarily shuddered, though covering him, as though they too were protesting the relentless cold.

Before his father had left, they had worked together in an attempt to make the shelter livable. While he had gathered scraps of cloth to make into a makeshift bed, his father had tried to cover the cracks to prevent them from freezing to death. His father was also the one who had collected firewood to build into a fire that would keep them strong.

His father was a strong demon.

But it was never enough. The cracks in the walls were too wide, and the roof was too broken for such a meager fix.

A few days after they found the shelter, his father had told him to stay put, that this place would keep him safe until he returned.

Then he left Varziel there, disappearing into the white, stormy afternoon.

However, Varziel was not sure if he would be safe in the safe house anymore.

The little food that they had gathered before the storm fell had quickly ended after his father had left. Or perhaps it was that his father had been gone for too long. Now, Varziel was starving, and every few hours, his stomach would growl, as if reminding him that he had to eat, or else he would die.

As it was every day, the world outside was silent, save for the wind. No birds, no voices, no signs of life. Just the endless expanse of snow stretching beyond the horizon. Light snow fell from the sky, just enough that the snow outside did not turn into a pile of mush and mud.

After his father had left, Varziel hadn’t dared venture out far. The last time he did, he’d seen strange shadows moving between the trees—huge and silent, with glowing eyes and sharp teeth.

It had been them.

They were the things that had been chasing him and his father, and seeing them filled Varziel with fear. He had hurried back into the shelter, fervently hoping that his father had not been caught. He did not dare venture far from the shelter after that.

At the thought, Varziel hugged himself tighter, closing his eyes against the memory of the creatures. He had an idea what those things were, and he knew how dangerous they were. All those who had followed his father to assist them had been killed by those creatures, and his father had warned him to stay out of their sight before he left.

However, he imagined his father would have never guessed how close they would get to the shelter.

A sudden sound snapped Varziel out of his thoughts—a faint creak that sounded like snow crunching. His eyes flew open, and his heart began to pound loudly in his chest. He held his breath, listening intently, silently begging that it wasn’t the creatures that had ventured so close to the shelter that he could hear them.

It was almost time for him to go out and stuff his face with some snow to keep the hunger away for a while, but if they had come so close to the shelter, there was no way Varziel would be able to leave the shelter.

The sound came again, louder this time. It did not sound like the wind had caused snow to fall off of a tree but was rhythmic instead, like foosteps crunching through snow.

Something—or someone—was outside.

Varziel scrambled to his feet, his wings spreading slightly in instinctive defense. He pressed himself against the farthest wall, the one with the darkest corner, his small hands gripping the jagged wood behind him.

As the footsteps drew closer, he had the small hope that it would be his father coming back to collect him. Varziel did not care where they would end up, as long as they were together.

That hope was crushed when he realized that there were two sets of footsteps walking to the shelter.

No, there were more.

A shadow loomed in the doorway, its form stark against the dim light of the snow-filled sky. Varziel held his breath, his wings trembling against his back. The first figure stepped through the doorway, and his heart stopped.

It was a young girl; she did not look much older than he, with bright golden hair that cascaded in soft waves around her shoulders all the way to the backs of her knees. Her skin seemed to glow faintly, and her piercing green eyes surveyed the shelter with the curiosity of someone who had stepped into a new world. She was wrapped in a large white cloak that looked a little too big on her, the hem of which was dusted with snow, and her boots crunched softly against the frozen floor.

Behind her, another figure entered, taller this time. It was a young man with a sharp, angular face and blue eyes that seemed to catch and hold the faint light in the room. His hair, though gold as well, was a darker shade and was cropped short to his shoulders. He was lean, and the first thing that Varziel noticed after he had walked in were the pair of brilliant white wings stretched out behind him, followed by the halo that bobbed above his hair.

His breath hitched.

Those were angels.

He had never seen any before in real life, but his father had told him all about them, about how dangerous they were and how he should always be careful to steer clear of them.

.

S/T:

Young Arella: Hi! How are you!

Follow current novels on (f)reew𝒆bnovel