ECHOES OF THE PAST
SHADOWS OF AZRAIL...
The shadows moved silently through the ruined streets of Earth.
The world had long since fallen, abandoned to decay, its glory reduced to whispers in the wind. Buildings stood as skeletal remains of their former selves, their steel frames twisted by time and war. The air was thick with the scent of ash and forgotten blood, a silent testament to the destruction that had taken place here.
Among these ruins, two figures moved like wraiths, unseen and unheard.
Umbra and Noctis—twins born of darkness itself—watched everything with eyes that missed nothing. Their movements were fluid, blending with the gloom, their cloaks billowing like living shadows. They had walked these ruins before, but today was different. Today, they were not here just to observe.
They were here to find the truth.
And the truth lay in the hidden past of one person.
Azrail.
DEMON WORLD—ASMODEUS' CHAMBER...
The chamber was vast, carved from obsidian, pulsing with an eerie crimson glow that flickered along the walls. Power vibrated in the air, thick and almost suffocating. Shadows swirled around the towering figure who stood in the center—Asmodeus, Lord of the Demon World.
The swirling portal of darkness before him shimmered, signaling their return.
A moment later, the figures of Umbra and Noctis emerged. Their black cloaks melted into the abyss around them, red eyes gleaming like embers in the dark.
Asmodeus watched them with his usual unreadable expression. He was not a creature of wasted words.
"Speak.
Umbra was the first to step forward. "We found something."
Noctis' voice followed, lower, almost conspiratorial. "Something buried. Something forgotten."
Between them, the shadows shifted, writhing as if alive. A thick, ancient file materialized, bound in worn leather, its corners frayed with age.
Asmodeus reached for it, his crimson gaze narrowing as his fingers brushed over the faded cover. The lettering, though worn, was still legible.
PROJECT AZRAIL
His grip tightened.
This was no ordinary discovery.
This was a revelation.
Without a word, he flipped open the file, his sharp gaze scanning the classified records. Faint traces of ink marked each page, detailing experiments long erased from history. And as he read, the forgotten truth began to unfold before his eyes.
YEARS AGO—EARTH.....
The laboratory was deathly silent.
Cold. Sterile. Devoid of warmth.
Rows of monitors flickered dimly, casting an artificial glow over the steel walls. The scent of antiseptic was suffocating, mingling with something far more sinister—secrets buried under the guise of science.
Beyond the thick glass of an observation chamber, a boy sat alone.
Dark hair. Pale skin.
Eyes that did not belong to a child.
He couldn't have been older than ten, yet the weight in his gaze spoke of something ancient. Something broken.
A voice crackled through the speakers above.
"Subject 07."
The boy flinched but did not break.
Not yet.
Behind the glass, figures in white coats murmured among themselves, their hushed tones laced with curiosity. One of them, a woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper mind, tapped her pen against a clipboard.
"Increase the exposure," she ordered. "Let's see how much he can take."
A low hum filled the room as the machines stirred to life. Electrodes pulsed with unseen energy, circling the boy like vultures before a feast.
The air shifted.
And then—he screamed.
But it wasn't the scream of a frightened child.
It was something unnatural.
Something raw.
Something being ripped apart from the inside.
And miles away, in another locked chamber—
A girl with the same dark hair, the same pale skin—felt it.
Felt him.
And she never forgot.
PRESENT—DEMON WORLD...
Asmodeus' fingers hovered over the final page of the file.
The records ended there.
No mention of what had happened after.
No mention of where Subject 07 was now.
But Asmodeus knew one thing.
Azrail had lost someone.
And now, for the first time, he knew who.
And more importantly—why.
He closed the file slowly, the weight of revelation pressing against him like a living force.
The silence in the chamber stretched.
Then, he lifted his gaze to the twins, his expression unreadable.
"Find out the rest."
Because this story wasn't over.
Not yet.
THE HUNT BEGINS...
Umbra and Noctis did not question Asmodeus' command. They never did.
The moment they left the chamber, the air around them shifted. They moved like phantoms, slipping into the void between worlds, traveling through shadows that bent to their will.
The ruins of Earth welcomed them once more.
Noctis ran a gloved hand over the crumbling remnants of a building. "If Azrail was here, he left no trace."
Umbra's eyes flickered, scanning the environment. "Then we search elsewhere."
Their journey took them through shattered cities, abandoned research facilities, and places long swallowed by time.
And then—they found it.
A hidden bunker, buried beneath layers of earth and secrecy.
The entrance was sealed, rusted over with time. But shadows had no need for doors.
With a single step, they melted into the darkness and reappeared within.
The air inside was stale. Dust clung to forgotten monitors, their cracked screens flickering weakly. Metal tables lined the walls, covered in old medical tools and faded records.
And in the center of the room—
A single chair, its leather straps worn but still intact.
The ghosts of the past lingered here.
Noctis ran his fingers over the chair's armrest, his voice quiet. "This is where they kept him."
Umbra reached for a stack of files on a nearby desk. The documents were brittle with age, the ink smudged, but one name stood out.
Azrail.
She turned to her brother. "We're not the first ones to come looking for him."
Noctis' eyes darkened. "Then we need to move faster."
Because somewhere, out there—
Azrail was waiting.
And the truth was waiting with him.
THE PAST RESURFACES....
They found him two nights later.
A city lost to time, its skyline jagged against the storm-heavy sky. Rain fell in sheets, drowning the world in shadows.
And there—standing on the rooftop of a broken tower—
Azrail.
The years had changed him.
The boy in the laboratory was gone. In his place stood a man cloaked in black, his presence commanding, his red eyes burning like embers in the dark.
He turned before they spoke.
"I was wondering when you'd find me."
Umbra and Noctis exchanged a glance before stepping forward.
"We found the files," Noctis said simply.
Azrail's expression did not change. "Then you know."
Umbra's voice was softer. "We know what they did."
A bitter smile ghosted across his lips. "Do you?"
He exhaled slowly, gaze drifting toward the ruined city below. "They didn't just experiment on me." His voice was quiet, but it carried through the storm. "They created me."
The words lingered in the air.
Umbra's grip tightened. "Then why are you still running?"
Azrail turned to her, and in that moment, she saw the truth written in his eyes.
"I'm not running," he said. "I'm waiting."
Lightning split the sky.
And somewhere, in the shadows of the storm—
The past was coming for them all.
This was only the beginning.
The hunt for the truth had just begun.