Alek_Brendan

In a world divided between celestial purity and abyssal darkness, an angel and a demon cross the boundaries of fate.

Azarel, a warrior of Asphodel, was born from the last spark of a dying star—destined to shine, destined to destroy the darkness that threatens his realm. But when he discovers a mysterious relic that connects him to Kur’thaal, the forsaken land of demons, his certainty begins to waver. And when he meets him—the demon with ember eyes and forbidden power—his destiny begins to unravel.

Vael has never believed in mercy. Shaped by war, bound by runes, he fights for survival in a world where weakness means death. But the moment he lays eyes on the angel—beautiful, untouchable, staring at him as if he were something more than a monster—everything changes.

What begins as defiance turns into obsession. What should have been hatred burns into something far more dangerous.

When Azarel throws away everything to save Vael, Heaven turns its back on him, and Hell waits with open arms. Now, bound together by fate, desire, and the weight of their choices, they must navigate a world that would see them both destroyed.

In the war between light and darkness, love was never meant to be an option.

Errant Wings (BL) (BoyxBoy)

Not on the battlefield. Not in Kur'thaal's endless war against Asphodel.

No—he was losing to something far more dangerous.

Vael sat on the edge of a broken tower, high above the smoldering ruins of Kur'thaal, his runes flickering with restless energy. The Abyss stretched below him, cracked and burning, but he barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere.

Vael had seen many things in his lifetime. He had seen fire swallow entire legions. He had seen mountains crumble with a single breath of magic. He had seen the first of the angels fall from grace and become something else entirely.

He had the face of a warrior, carved from light itself, but the softness of something untouched, unbroken.

Stars, not just reflections of them. They held depth, curiosity, something untamed. When he was angry, they burned. When he was silent, they searched.

A creation of celestial arrogance, yet painted in defiance.

The gold at their base was unnatural, rare, an imprint of something greater than him. But Vael knew Azarel did not see it that way. He had seen the way Azarel touched his own feathers, the way his expression darkened when the others looked at him like he was something divine.

And that—that was what made Vael's chest ache the most.

More than he wanted to. More than he could ever admit.

A sickness in his mind, poisoning his thoughts, twisting him into something weaker.

Had let his fingers trace the sharp lines of his jaw, had memorized the warmth of his skin, had felt the shudder in his breath—had felt him break beneath that touch, just for a second.

And now he was here, sitting alone, thinking about him like some pathetic fool.

Vael clenched his fists, his runes glowing violently.

But then… why did he feel like he was suffocating?

Vael exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. This wasn't just about him.

Still locked in their perfect, pristine world.

Still standing before the Council of Angels, who would tear him apart if they suspected even a fraction of the truth.

Azarel could be condemned for this.

The thought made his entire body tense, an ugly, unfamiliar sensation twisting in his gut.

But the image of Azarel standing alone, facing judgment, knowing that Vael had been the reason—

The word slammed through his mind like a blade.

He didn't know how. Didn't know what he could do.

But if anyone dared to touch Azarel—

Vael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers pressing against his temples.

Something inside him was changing.

It had started with Azarel's name.

Now, it was in his breath, his bones, his very soul.

For existing in a way that Vael could never ignore.

This was something else. Something worse.

Something that Vael did not know how to fight.

The War Within