He glanced over his shoulder, and fell into absolute awe at the sight of his newly transford wings. The top pair of wings were still massive, although not as massive as before, with black feathers that were edged with a flicker of gold lining at the edges. This detail hadn’t been there before.
The new lower pair glimred faintly with crimson light that seed to seep through his skin. They folded over his back with grace. They lacked the gold lining at the edges that the top pair had though.
It was done, he thought. The bond was now complete. This was the final shape that his wings were going to take. He had never heard of a demons wings changing shape after they were fully mated. The normal thing to happen would be the stabilizing of ones power.
However, was this because his mate was an angel?
He looked up at his angel, ready to see the awe in her eyes. But, Arella was staring, with eyes wide, her faze fixated beyond him, behind him, at the wings that fluttered gently on his back.
"Varziel," her voice was so soft, so much so that it could not even be called a whisper, "I don’t think it’s over."
Varziel blinked once, unable to talk imdiately because he was still catching his breath from the painful transformation. "What?" He finally managed to ask.
The pain of the transformation was slowly subsiding. At least, that is what he thought.
His veins burned as the pain returned twofold.
It was nothing like the slow burn of the first transformation.
No, this pain was entirely different. He could feel the snapping of his bones, the fall of his wings, and even the breaking of his back.
"What?" he managed, still catching his breath. The transformation of his wings was inexplicably painful, but the pain was now slowly subsiding.
And then the pain returned twofold.
Not the slow burn that had co with the first transformation—no, this pain was entirely different from the pain that he had first felt. It was like his soul was cracking open under so kind of pressure. His spine cracked as he bowed forward, and cracked once more as so force pushed his body to bow backwards. A sound that sounded similar to splintering bone echoed through the air.
His wings spasd behind him.
And then there was another crack.
The uppermost pair of wings, the ones that had first separated to form a new pair, jerked violently before exploding in a flurry of feather and fla. Arella cried out in surprise, subconsciously reaching for him.
Varziel was panting at this point. His heart beat violently in his chest, the sound loud in his ears. Panic seized him as he worried that his wings had beco destroyed, that sothing had gone wrong.
His though was short lived as another bout of agony struck him. He could feel it clearer now, despite the haze of pain. His wings were evolving again.
In their place, another pair of wings began to grow.
The feathers that had fallen off floated gently to the ground, before reigniting mid air, curling and twisting as if they were being guided by unseen hands. Ash fell like snow around him, only to finally burn up before hitting the ground.
By the ti it was done, he was kneeling in the center of the glowing rune, head bowed, breath coming out in low pants.
Six wings now stretched behind him—three pairs in almost perfect symtry. The topmost pair were no longer the most massive pair. They were luminous, almost translucent in depth of color. The feathers were a bright white color with gold lining the edges, with little tendrils of black swirling over the white. The black tendrils swirled like smoke, or like a snake that was alive.
The middle pair were the largest pair, and they retained their storm dark appearance, with red and gold at the edge of each and every feather. The lowest pair were still black. They glimred faintly with so crimson light that seed to co from the skin underneath the feathers. Silver tinged the edges of the feathers, reflecting the red that seed to seep from underneath his skin.
Arella did not move.
Could not move.
She could barely breathe in front of such majesty. In her mind were the mories of Kratel, and though she had had an inkling that such a thing would happen when they completed their bond, she had had no idea that it would be so excruciating for him.
However, after the formation of his wings, he was gorgeous. The light around them bent slightly in the presence of the power that seeped through his pores. To Arella, it was as if the battle that was going on in the background did not exist, as if reality itself had held its breath at how breathtaking Varziel looked at that mont.
When Varziel finally moved, it was with a slow staggering grace. He sat himself back, resting his weight on his knees. His whole body still shook, and sweat dripped down his chest. His hair stuck to his forehead, also soaked in sweat. His breath ca in gasps, slow gasps in which he tried to breathe in as much air as he could.
Yet, he was smiling.
A beautiful dimpled smile that he directed towards her.
Kneeling in the heart of the rune, surrounded by embers that still floated lazily around him like fireflies in twilight, he looked utterly enchanting. His body was marked with the remnants of strain, but he held himself upright, smiling at her despite it all.
Arella’s lips parted slightly, but no words ca out. Her heart thundered in her chest, so painfully loud that it drowned out the howling wind that curled around the edges of the ritual circle that glowed beneath their bodies.
In her mind, part of Kratel’s mories, she had mories of angels ascending to a higher plane; images of demons rising through fire. She also knew more about mating, and the effects it would have on a being.
For herself, she could feel her holy power thrumming through her veins, with sothing else mixed in it, although she had yet to discover what the other power that swum in her blood was. The bond, though yet to be completed and yet to snap in place, had helped her holy power settle and ground itself in a way she had never felt before.
It was completely different from Varziel. His ascension, his transformation, was completely different. She could feel his presence sowhere in the corner of her mind, and was sure that he too could feel hers.
Arella’s legs moved before her thoughts could catch up, carrying her to him in long, hurried strides. She dropped to her knees before him, hands reaching up to cup his face. Her halo humd at the contact. His wings stretched up and out into the air, the tips of them pointing upwards; then they fell, wrapping around their bodies, encasing them in a cocoon of darkness.
Arella, slightly startled, went to pull her arm away, but Varziel gripped her wrist, leaning his cheek into her touch anyway. His fingers were warm, their temperature higher than that of her wrist. They were rough, calloused, and trembled slightly.
Her halo humd even louder, the sound similar to the holy violin music she had heard being played in mories that were not her own. It was the only source of light in the darkness that had they had been encased in.
Arella didn’t speak—not because she had nothing to say, but because words could not fully express what she felt.
The hush around them felt like a wondrous mont of stillness between heartbeats, a lull in ti itself.
She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his, her breath mingling with his ragged one. Her wings quivered as her fingers slid from his cheek into his damp hair.
"Varziel." she whispered his na, "I can feel you," she whispered at last.
Varziel exhaled shakily, his smile faltering into sothing softer—more raw. "I feel you too," he replied, his voice nearly hoarse.
S/T:
Arella: (In front of a large curtain. Acts suspiciously.) I would like to present the newest magical girl in town. Give a warm welco to Elel the majika of fire!
(The curtain is pulled open to reveal... the demon king dressed in a pink magic girl dress, and a golden tiara with a wand in his hand.)
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