Nadine

Tonight was an auspicious night and it had been chosen by Lord Slyshore for that reason. Fidelia, his mother was on her deathbed and one had to inherit her ardour. His daughters were the candidates.

He sat in the Horicus chamber for a while, his white hair falling around his potent shoulders for the first time in a long time. The choices weighed heavily on his mind. He had made a decision a long time ago but again the curse... It had been centuries yet it was still a possibility…

"Call them in." He ordered Vedric, his advisor.

"Yes, sire."

Soon they were before him with their mother, Zarela. Looking at his wife now, he wondered why he had made that mistake years ago.

His daughters, the twins, Nadia and Nadine. Nadia always had a perpetual fire in her dark eyes that mirrored the titan glow of her hair. Always with a dagger in the hilt around her hips but her core was more potent and sharp than any dagger.

Nadine was a shadow. Silent, harmless and empty, A dull comparison to her sister. Her heart was soft, warm, a beacon of light in the dark world she found herself. In contrast, her twin was an enigma, the only one that truly mattered.

"Nadia,"

She raised her head and stared at her father in anticipation.

"You are chosen to receive the ardour." Slyshore finally said.

The girl knelt before her father to receive his blessings. He rested his hand upon her head and blessed her. He turned on his heel barely sparing a glance at his other daughter who already had tears in her eyes.

Once he was out of sight, Zarela pulled her daughter into her arms and gave her a warm embrace. Nadine looked on at the pair. it was not surprising that her sister had been chosen but her heart could not help but bleed.

Zarela looked at the girl, her eyes filled with wicked glee. She let go of Nadia and spoke. "Why the tears, Nadine?" She asked without any trace of emotion.

Her voice dripped with venom and malice.

Nadine's lip quivered as she spoke quietly, "No reason,"

Zarela rose and stalked towards her. "It was foolish of you to hope, girl."

"I gave you your name for a reason," She said. "For all your life you shall wallow in sorrow. Your sister is obviously the chosen one."

"But she is not the first, I am!" Nadine insisted desperately.

Zarela laughed at that and raised an eyebrow. "It does not matter and it never will."

"The curse..." She argued.

She was interrupted by a slap from Zarela. Her sharp nails slashed her flesh and made her bleed. "

Do not speak to me again about curses," She warned.

"You think the gods you're on your side? You were accursed from the beginning, the only curse that was placed on this family was your birth?"

"But am I not your daughter?"

To that, Zarela's face contorted into one of genuine confusion. "Are you senile or that dense?" She asked. "You believe..."

"Mother," Nadia cautioned.

Zarela looked at her daughter before calming down. She turned back to Nadine. "Leave," Disobedience promised punishment and so Nadine left.

Nadine stayed outside for the time being, contemplating. She had always felt like there was something she did not know. Something fundamental to her existence that would be able to explain why she was treated so differently from her sister in the household.

Her mother treated her like she would treat a human and her father acted as though she had been infected by the plague.

"Hold him!" someone yelped, breaking her out of her reverie. She raised her head to see her father's men carrying a struggling man. It was a man, not a witch. She could see his aura glowing brightly from within him. A servant came out to check the common and at the sight of the man, she turned to Nadine in horror.

"Enter! Get your father." she commanded.

Nadine took a final glance at the man before doing as she was told.

******

The servant rushed to deliver a message, and Nadine hastened to find her father. She found Lord Slyshore in his study, surrounded by scrolls and maps, deep in thought. He looked up as Nadine entered, a mix of curiosity and impatience evident on his face.

"What is it, Nadine?" he asked, his voice tinged with weariness.

"Father, there's a man—a glowing aura. The servants have brought him in," Nadine explained, her voice trembling with a mix of concern and intrigue.

Lord Slyshore's brows furrowed as he absorbed the information. "A glowing aura, you say? Bring me to him."

Nadine led her father through the corridors, her mind racing with questions about the mysterious man and his significance. They arrived at a secluded room where the man was being held, his aura pulsating with an otherworldly glow. Guards stood on high alert, ready to restrain him further if necessary.

Lord Slyshore approached the man cautiously, his eyes narrowing as he studied him. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice commanding.

The man raised his head as if in a daze, his eyes dancing in his sockets before resting on the white haired lord who questioned him.

"My---- name----?" He stammered but his voice, distant as though talking to someone in his head to supply him with an answer.

Lord Slyshore said nothing more and only studied the bound man. It was obvious what he was; a human. For witches could only see the aura of humans and of no other creature. But with an aura this bright---- it only raised more questions. The other lords would arrive once they received the message.

"He calls me---- Azazel " The man mumbled. "No! but my mother named me after my grandfather." he mumbled.

"What is your name?" Slyshore asked again, his voice was dangerously low. "Or you will face the consequences for wasting my time."

"What is your grandfather's name?" Nadine voiced her question.

"Nadine!" Slyshore shot his daughter with a sharp look.

"His name---- is---- was Kenneth." He answered. With his gaze directly on Nadine, he continued. "My name is Kenneth"

Nadine came forward, closer to Kenneth. Nadia, finding her own bravery, also tried to come forward only to be pulled back by Zarela.

"Azazel--- who calls you Azazel?" She asked.

At the question, Kenneth's eyes widened, his ambience shifted. The subtle changes at first were almost imperceptible, like the gradual shift of the shadows in the room. Then his pupils dilated, expanding into a dark abyss that seemed to absorb the very essence of light.

His mouth twisted into a malevolent smirk, "He is----," a voice from Kenneth, but it was distorted, laced with an unnatural resonance. "Asmodeus."