hidden

The tree Daemon is perched in is thick and tall, far bigger than anything on Earth or in the ichor and blackness of the filthy demon world. The only contenders for its size are tucked behind the wards of the fey realm.

The angelic dimension stretches out before him, the world flat with shining white streets and tall spires of buildings. A waterfall pours from one side of the tallest building and drops in an arc to a lake below. The droplets catch the light and glint brightly alongside a constant rainbow.

Further out from the center, there are ragged edges as the heavy, black clouds slowly devour the floating world. Behind, where Daemon is unwilling to look, the tree is half consumed by the opaque nothingness. Thin wisps and tendrils reach out from the clouds and brush his back, sliding through the feathers of his wings.

Still, Daemon doesn't move. It's a slow-moving sickness, far more terrifying to some, but Daemon finds himself relaxed around it. Some days he leans back against its cold.

A bright lantern sits next to him, the fierce light almost winning out over the glow of angelic atmosphere but doing nothing to illuminate the clouds. He hopes that one day it will lead her to safety, out of the nothingness and into his arms.

"I don't understand, Elena," Daemon murmurs to a lost love. He brings his wings tighter around him like a cloak. "He would die for someone who can never know him. The fey woman can't see his true form or step into his home world."

The thick clouds closest to him seem to shudder like glass trembling from echoes of a strike.

"Exactly," Daemon says in agreement. "That's dangerous, for Mukuro and our-" Daemon pauses. "And my angelic race. The fey may be tree hugging spores but they have been here almost as long as angels have. If someone gets through their barrier then it doesn't matter the excuse, they'll either kill the angels or die trying."

The faint sound of a storm reaches Daemon, a muffled viciousness that quickly dies away, leaving him in silence once more.

Daemon sighs. "I can't put him in Eden again, you saw what happened last time."

He shivers as the cloud presses against him and flicks it off with a bristle of his wings in annoyance.

"Yes, fine," he admits. "It was a smart move, but Mukuro makes such a big deal out of everything." He rolls his eyes, remembering the dramatics. "Honestly, it's like he thinks he's the only one that got attacked by moronic little twits." He huffs in annoyance. "Where there is power, there is envy."

Daemon glances over his shoulder, a hazardous habit, and for a brief moment he's lost in the nothingness, detached from everything and just… lost. He turns around again and determinedly stares at the light of the angel kingdom, painful to gaze at after the darkness.

"He has no room to argue," Daemon says, a hitch to his breath after he tempted the monster hidden in the clouds. "No room at all since he killed every angel who attacked him. Only after taking their wings of course.

The dark rumbled again, the storm almost sounding amused.

Daemon smirks, smug and proud and vicious. "Yes, he takes after his older brother." Daemon frowns a bit then. "He probably doesn't remember where he learned it from, he was only a few centuries old at that point."

The nothing behind him shifts and swirls, casting a breeze through the tree and rustling leaves as well as Daemon's feathers and hair.

"You would have loved him, Elena," Daemon murmurs. "He's so intelligent and strong, but he's also so young and impulsive and now he's fallen in with a bad crowd."

Daemon leans back against the cloud, feeling the ice grow in his body and tensing at the sting in his wings as the edges of his feathers dissolve.

"If only you weren't lost in the dark," Daemon sighs. "I'm sure he wouldn't be this way." He leans back further, pressing against the clouds. "I'll come and find you soon," he promises. "When Mukuro is safe, we can be together."

Daemon stays that way for a long moment, then he grabs the lantern and stands, making the long climb down the tree and then walking the six hours back to the castle.

Maybe one day he'll learn, but right now his wings are destroyed and the sky is out of his reach.

...

A shudder runs through Byakuran when something in the distance leans heavily against the Earth and the pressure forces him to shift his weight.

"Ran?" a woman croons in sugary sweet worry, looking away from the glass display areas that line the walls of the room. "What is it?"

Byakuran turns to the human woman and chuckles, his smile just as fake as her concern. "Nothing at all, just some tree huggers buzzing about."

"The fey?" she murmurs, eye narrowing. "Yes, the ones I have are acting strange. Constantly repeating a word over and over again." She suddenly gives him a coy smirk. "Then again, the ones I have are either half dead or entirely insane."

They share a brief titter, both of them with empty smiles.

"What have they been saying?" Byakuran asks casually. He brushes down his white clothes that are specifically made like a military uniform to make others nervous.

"Who, darling?" she says airily, shaping the words carefully with ruby red lips. She strides forward to one of the larger glass enclosures, her heels click loudly on the marble flooring. When she stops, the beat is kept by her tapping at the glass with a gloved finger like a child at the zoo.

"Your fey. What have they been saying?"

She waves a hand dismissively. "Just some nonsense. The word 'mikiru' or 'mukiru', constantly." She sighs dramatically and touches her temple with her fingertips. "It gave me such a headache that I killed them all."

Byakuran sighs, just as dramatic if not more so, and approaches the woman. He lays a consoling hand on her shoulder and ignores the glass wall. "Oh, you poor dear. You must be exhausted. Here, sit down on one of the couches and I'll get you something to drink."

The human nods regally and her dress flares when she spins and strides for a werewolf skin chaise lounge, dyed an eye watering neon orange. "You're too good to me, Ran. I don't know how I managed to survive without you."

"You flatter me," Byakuran simpers, flashing sharp teeth just to see her eyes narrow. He walks away, leaving the woman to admire her captured supernaturals.

He pretends he doesn't hear the rasping voice of a kitsune behind him. Begging for death.