A chamber carved from rose-colored stone and glass, reaching so far ahead it seemed infinite. The walls felt alive, lit by veins of violet fire, pulsing slightly. This was the Palace of Lust, home to Akil until he could carve out a domain of his own.

  His hands wrapped tightly around the unconscious angel in arms; he strides through the hall. His violet flames dimmed, casting his body in a faint glow and the sentient corridors murmur as he passes, they feel her presence. He felt the weight of eyes watching, accessing his every move but he strode on, jaw tightening, ignoring the pressure, the murmurs.

  ***

  Massive obsidian doors closed behind Akil. The room was tastefully opulent. Flames hovered midair, held by his will alone, bookshelves lined the wall to his left, relics of old wars adorned the space, glass instruments thrummed on a frequency of their own. A staircase curved upward to a loft with silver balustrades leading to his private quarters and all the amenities befitting a Prince. Straight ahead was a floor-to-ceiling window, attached to a balcony that overlooked the gardens of the palace. The air hummed as if welcoming its master, its lord.

  He laid the angel – Veyra – upon a couch draped in silk that shimmered like dusk. Her pulse flickered weakly. Feathers, burnt and broken, scattered around her like fallen stars.

  Akil stepped back, wincing as his flame was unstable, reacting to her divine presence. He paced, calculating, his mind striving for control. A way to stifle her presence, making it easier to hide from prying eyes – for now. A solution came to mind, a shade elixir that is meant to suppress celestial radiance, used sometimes by his mother when she wanted to ensure the disappearance of a divine creature. He remembered ‘borrowing’ a vial to study its composition.

  He crossed over to his desk, an ancient slab of dark wood lined with gold. Opened a finely engraved chest that masked the presence of any object placed in it, and pulled out the vial. He hesitated as he stood over the unconscious being, then tipped a drop onto her skin. It hissed, then faded. The light receded but did not vanish.

  “Even fallen, you resist corruption,” he muttered, curiosity burning deeply within him.

  He turned away, clenching his fists, letting slip a moment of worry. His reflection in the glass wall stared back – half-devil, half-doubt.

  Behind him, the hovering flames dimmed slightly, as though they too hesitated in their master’s presence.

  Flashback: Lust’s War Room, *** years ago

  A younger Akil sits across from his mother, the fireplace roared with velvet flames, effusing an ambiance of safety.

  “Mercy is not affection, my child. It’s an infection. The moment you pity a soul… you allow them to own you, a little at a time. It corrupts.” Lirien’s voice, velvety and merciless echoed.

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  “Then what is love?” Akil asked.

  “Love…” she replied stonily, “… is the prettiest leash ever forged.”

  Cut back to the present.

  Akil exhales sharply, pushing the memory away.

  A while later, Veyra stirs.

  Her breath caught as she opened her eyes, silver light flickering in them. She winced, clutching her ribs, feathers trembling. “Where… am I?” she asked hoarsely.

  A voice drifted to her from a place she couldn’t see until she craned her neck. “In the last place Heaven would dare to look.”

  Akil rose from the chair he was currently occupying and moved closer, slow, deliberate. His presence was overwhelming, a quiet blend of control and charm.

  She wasn’t sure what to expect when he stepped into her field of vision, but it wasn’t a creature with a presence such as his and with a quiet refinement to his bearing. Black hair streaked with violet waved slightly as he moved, like an unseen energy was at work. A spark of curiosity he tried so much to hide burned in his eyes.

  She tried to sit up. He gestured, and an invisible energy held her gently but firmly down.

  “You were dying when I found you. The Infernal Sands do not take kindly to angels.”

  “Then why didn’t you let me die?”

  He froze, the hovering flames flickered uncertainly. His mind was racing, trying to root out a reason born of logic to his actions.

  'Why did I save her though… what force compelled me? Wait…'

  She studied him, weak but curious, sensing the tension in the silence.

  “Curiosity.” He shrugged, hiding any trace that her question troubled him.

  “Is that so? The only reason you saved me was because you were curious?” A smile threatened to break across her face.

  “No other reason I would save you otherwise.” He answered briskly.

  She laughed weakly, then grimaced in pain. “You’re… not like the others.”

  “You don’t know the others,” he said coolly.

  “I know what I felt. Your fire didn’t burn me.”

  Their eyes met. Her words echoed in the air and the Code trembled, faint, distorted, it spoke.

  Two flames cannot merge without cost…

  Akil closed his eyes briefly. The mark on his chest – the Sigil of Lust – burns faintly beneath his clothes.

  “Akil. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

  He froze but softly, he said, “Rest. If anyone discovers you here, we both cease to exist.”

  “You could hand me over.”

  “Honestly, I could. But…” He smirked faintly. “… proving my mother right? No. I’d rather tempt fate instead.”

  She studied him again, puzzled but fascinated. “What are you, truly?”

  A twitch of his lips suggested a frown, the question demanded more than a title, more than the lie he’d told himself for centuries. His smirk faded. The silence between them pressed close, suffocating. “You could now say that I'm a mistake…” He rubbed his temples. “…a mistake hell refuses to correct.”

  He turned away, the violet fire dimming as he walked to the window. Outside stretched the realm of Lust, a vast empire of allure and ruin reborn each day in flame. The skyline shimmered beneath an endless dusk, gold-streaked towers of obsidian rising from rivers of molten amethyst. Silk-like embers drifted through the air, carrying the faint scent of burned rose and sweet nectar. In the distance, cathedrals of glass and gold pulsed with a slow rhythm, the heartbeat of a realm that never slept, forever hungering, forever beautiful.

  Behind him, she whispered softly, a breath of faith clinging to ruin. “Then maybe I fell in the right place.”

  He didn’t turn to face her, but his flame flickered faintly, involuntarily.

  CUT TO:

  The Observatory of Lust – Same Night

  Lirien stood before a crystal mirror, her eyes half-closed. The mirror showed shifting scenes, flickers of violet light… and something else, silver, faint but present. The air thrummed with laughter.

  “So, he’s found his first lie which he refuses to acknowledge.” She smiled, slow and knowing.