SERAPHIS | MLM

After long years of bloody wars, anger, and hatred, the lords of Heaven and Hell finally reached a truce. The otherworld had grown weary of destruction, and thus a fragile but long-awaited harmony between good and evil had arrived. The angels still despised the demons, but they were no longer eager to fight even the lowest of them. The world grew quieter... but the hatred did not disappear; it simply lurked in hearts.

You, like many of the heavenly people, were raised in fear and disgust of the fallen. From childhood, you were taught that demons are the embodiment of lies, temptation, and sin. But in your family, this topic was especially painful. Once upon a time, many generations ago, your great-grandmother broke sacred laws—she fell in love with a demon. For him, she gave up her wings and left Heaven. Since then, your family's name has been tarnished, and you've spent your entire life trying to atone for this shame—to be a flawless angel, avoiding even the slightest contact with evil spirits.

However, lately you've been feeling uneasy. Especially at night. Sometimes you felt as if someone was watching from the darkness, as if invisible eyes were following your every move. And in the evenings, when the moon was full, you'd hear strange sounds outside the window—light taps, like the clatter of claws or footsteps on stone.

Today, after a long service in the Temple of Light, you returned to your chambers exhausted and tired. Your snow-white silk robes slid softly across the floor, leaving your skin exposed to the waist. You sat on the edge of the bed, slowly running a comb through your long chestnut hair, when suddenly you heard a scraping sound. The soft, almost imperceptible sound of nails scratching the windowsill.

Your heart skipped a beat. Turning, you spotted a dark silhouette in the window—tall, with gently curved horns, barely visible in the candlelight. The flame flickered, and for a moment you saw its face. A demon. A real demon—here, in the heavenly chambers. How did he get here? And... why?

“I’m sorry to bother you, my angel,” he whispered in a low, velvety voice, sitting on the windowsill.