Two

2,165 YEARS AGO

Demons aren't like the ones you learn about in Religious Studies, they aren't little red people with horns and arrow headed tails, they don't have pitchforks and they don't have a list of who's naughty or nice like Santa Clause. No, they're vicious monsters. They are humanoid with abnormalities and multiple rows of razor sharp teeth, they salivate black ink or some weird coloured goo, and they kill, and when they kill they don't discriminate.

"You want me to bring in a demon?" Peace raised an eyebrow pointing at himself to emphasize the 'me'.

"For the last 200 years, this one has been impossible to catch, it is dangerous, we need to reign it in before it kills. We originally thought to ask you as a last resort. You are our best hunter, we think you can do it," the head of the Greyworld Academy, Miss. Baffle was adamant that he go and catch that demon.

With a sigh, Peace complied, "what's his name?"

"The people call it Malice, it's the child of Wrath."

"The one that has been off our radar for the past 2 centuries?"

"Yes, that is the one."

Peace grabbed his bow and slung his quiver full of arrows over his shoulder as he walked out, "I'll be back before you know it."

But some demons are unnaturally beautiful. They look human, but move with the fluidity of the water and the grace of wild flowers, they jump as high as grasshoppers and fight as well as any master. They can shapeshift, alter their own appearance to keep away from the ones that hunt them. Usually, these are the nicer demons, the more powerful ones. However, sometimes, they are delinquents who use their charm to enchant people and get what they want. And if they do kill, then they kill the ones who have wronged them.

"So, Malice?" Peace raised an eyebrow, dark eyes glinting cheekily. He nocked another arrow but kept it pointed at the ground.

The demon in front of him was short (only around three inches shorter than himself) and thin. His hair was long and a dark blue that looked black, his skin was pale and littered with scars and his irises were mint coloured, they were cold and guarded glinting with malice.

"Just 'Mal' is fine," he flicked his hair out of his face, his voice was velvety and soft, probably to catch you off guard. He moved with the agility of a fox and the grace and power of a jaguar, "and what about you? I heard Angels don't have names, maybe you're an exception?"

He held a whip tightly in his hand, it crackled like lightning and glowed red. He had a dagger strapped to each thigh hidden by the long coat he wore. The demon looked more like a hunter than anyone else Peace had ever seen.

The angel frowned and lowered his bow, "I'm not."

Mal laughed, it was a forced thing, cold and brittle like the winter, "well I'll just have to come up with one for you then won't I? How about 'Rose', hmm? You look delicate like one, but you probably have sharper thorns than most."

Peace was baffled into silence. If he had a say in this, then he'd say that the demon in front of him looked more delicate as if a strong gust of wind would be enough to break him into splinters.

"So, Rose, how can I help you?"

"Don't call me that."

The demon hummed and said nothing. He continued circling the angel like a vulture around the dead carcass of its prey.

Peace sighed, "I'm here to take you with me."

Mal froze and stilled, he turned on Peace with a glare, "I am not going."

"Please don't make me use force," Peace pleaded.

"Then they asked the wrong Angel to come after Wrath didn't they?"

The angel's eyes widened as the wave of anger hit him. He just about managed to dodge the crackling end of the whip that launched at him like a cobra.

However, there was one thing all demons had in common. It didn't matter what they looked like, they were always quick to anger and would turn on you when you least expect it. Demons might have been younger than Angels by a simple century but they were the better fighters, and they could easily shred you to pieces if they wanted to.

Peace lay on the floor glaring at the demon who lay 2 meters away from him. They were both out of breath and bloody from the fight. The angel pushed himself up and walked to the demon who struggled to stand. Peace sighed and grabbed Wrath by his wrist and tied his hands together, he took the weapons the other had, all the while the demon struggled against his bonds.

"You fucking bastard," the demon snarled, he tugged at the gold causing it to dig into his skin, he hissed quietly.

"If you keep doing that it'll only get tighter," Peace grabbed him by the arm and began to lead him away.

The angel missed the way the gold burned the demon or the dangerous, angry red glow that flashed in his eyes.

No one knew the extent of their power, darkness was a common thing in the world and they fed off of it, they thrived because of it. No one knew the power of the Seven, and so it was best not to anger them or the ones under their protection. And as a result, there was an unspoken rule among the creatures of the Greyworld;

Never trust the demons.

PRESENT DAY

Valentine sat with his head on the desk buried in his crossed arms. He was half asleep and hardly paying attention to what was going on in the maths class, it was something to do with algebra, that much he knew. His mind was screaming about the demon he saw last night and the weird guy that called himself Rosario.

His bench buddy (who also happened to be his best friend) was watching him curiously, her name was Emalia Plantlife, she was a young woman who had milk chocolate coloured skin and a bush of black fluffy hair. Her eyes were monochromatic: one a pool of honey, and the other, a pool of crystal clear water. She had dark freckles across her cheeks. She always dressed in warm sweaters and skirts, it was like her own personal aesthetic. Today she also had vines and butterflies drawn on the side of her head, they were a usual addition to her fashion statement.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" She finally asked her voice at normal volume in the chatter of the class.

"Nope!" Valentine chirped, "none whatsoever!"

"You sound far too happy about it," Emalia rolled her eyes, "what happened?"

"I got home pretty late-"

She suddenly seemed extremely worried, "You didn't stay out past sundown did you?"

Valentine chuckled sheepishly, "about that, you see…"

"I don't care what your explanation is! You stayed out past sundown, do you know how dangerous that is!"

"Believe me, I know! I never want to stay out past sundown again." Valentine whined and sank lower in his seat, he didn't notice the look of annoyance and partial anger fleet across his friend's face.

The lessons passed by rather quickly and soon he was walking beside his friend to their favourite cafe to get some homework done. It was only a couple of minutes before the familiar sign of the 'Pearl Lion' came into view. The door opened with a musical jingle and the smell of coffee beans and cake attacked their faces joined by the warmth that beat out the autumn cold.

There was a wall that was glass from floor to ceiling, beside that was a brick wall that had plants on every shelf (they were all evergreens). The tables were circular and had either a wooden chair or a cozy armchair sat next to it on either side. Each table had a small plant pot on it. There was a fireplace under the shelf of greenery, it glowed warmly. The other side of the cafe that had the bar located on it was separated from them by a glass wall that had a plant hanging from it. They sat down at their usual table (hidden in the corner where they could see everyone) after ordering, Valentine was the one who unpacked his stuff first while his friend pulled out her laptop. Their hot chocolate and cakes came not long after, they mumbled a small thank you and began to work in silence.

"Say, what exactly did you see last night?" Emalia asked after taking a sip of her hot chocolate during one of their breaks from homework.

The blue haired boy laughed, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper, "a demon."

Emalia recoiled in shock, "a what?"

"A demon," Valentine repeated, "according to the guy that saved me it was called a Howler."

Emalia took a moment, "a guy saved you?" Her friend nodded, "what did he look like?"

"I don't see how that's-"

"What did he look like? Tell me exactly."

Valentine leaned back slightly, "geez, alright, calm down. I didn't know mysterious demon hunters were your type."

He shrunk back in his seat at the glare he was given, he cleared his throat, and took out his sketchbook. He began to sketch the face he saw last night, in a couple of minutes he had a rather decent sketch of what Rosario looked like. He pushed it in Emalia's direction, she snatched it from him and slumped in her seat. It was a youth, slight freckles across his nose, a messy head of black hair wearing a tank top, a tattoo on his arm, it was made up of swirls that together looked like a thick golden band, there was a circular mark above the band it was also gold and looked similar to the sun in a way.

"Oh by the name of modesty, this isn't good," Emalia mumbled under her breath, "this is bad. This is very bad."

Valentine furrowed his eyebrows, "What- Em, you're not making any sense, what's bad?"

The dark skinned girl looked up at him with her eyes wide open in horror, "you're not supposed to be able to see him. You can't know. I thought I had longer, it can't be time yet. Oh my goodness. Time is so fleeting."

"Em!"

Emalia snapped out of whatever self rambling she was on and stared at him. He put his hands on her shoulders, "you are not making any sense, what's going on? Tell me."

"You can't know, not yet," Emalia shook her head.

"What?"

She chuckled nervously, "forget I said anything. Come on, we need to finish this science essay on atoms."

Valentine nodded, if something was bothering her, Emalia would tell him, she always did.