The Bound Demon

The world lay still, as if holding its breath. The blood-soaked ground had begun to dry, the echo of battle fading into silence. Zephriel remained kneeling, cradling Elyon's body, his demonic form looming amidst the gods' remains and the shattered landscape. His blindfold, wet with tears and dark with blood, clung to his face. His long white hair draped over Elyon's still form like a silver shroud.

But then, a soft rustling disturbed the silence.

Zephriel's breath hitched as Elyon's body began to change. His skin, pale and cool, seemed to glow faintly, a soft light emanating from within. His form became translucent, the edges of his silhouette blurring as if touched by mist.

"No... No, not yet..." Zephriel's voice cracked, raw with fear. He clutched Elyon tighter, his claws gently pressing against him as if he could hold the god's spirit in place.

Petals. Tiny, delicate petals began to bloom from Elyon's body. His skin dissolved into soft hues of white and pink, flowers sprouting where blood had stained the earth. Roses, lilies, and silver blossoms with petals like the moonlight—flowers that only bloomed in the gardens of heaven.

"Elyon..." His name escaped Zephriel's lips as a whisper, a prayer. His hands trembled, claws retracting as the last of Elyon's body faded into flowers. Petals fell from his hands, slipping through his fingers, carried away by a breeze that had not existed a moment before.

The demon king remained frozen. His empty hands hovered in the air, still cradling a memory. His sharp nails grazed the ground, tracing the outlines of petals. His demonic energy surged, a dark mist around him, but it could not bring back what was lost.

"Flower God..." he murmured, the name a fragment from another life. His mind drifted through layers of time, pulling at memories that were not his, yet felt like home.

He could see it—Elyon laughing under a silver sky, petals in his hair. Elyon's hands warm against his own, guiding him through fields of light. Elyon's voice, soft and eternal, whispering his secret name, the name only they had shared when the universe had been young.

The weight of eternity bore down on Zephriel. His demonic form shuddered, shadows curling around him as if to hold him together. His wings wrapped around his body, a cocoon of darkness against the bright, mocking world.

"Find me."

The words echoed, haunting him. Elyon's last promise, a thread of hope in the void. His hands closed around the petals, crushing them against his chest. The scent of flowers filled his senses, bittersweet and suffocating.

He stood slowly, each movement heavy. The gods who had survived remained silent, watching the demon king rise. His aura, once a raging storm, had become a deep abyss. His white hair, tangled and stained, hung down, brushing the flowers at his feet.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he removed his blindfold. His eyes, twin abysses of red, met the horizon. The world seemed to tilt, shadows gathering where his gaze fell. His horns, sharp and twisted, glinted in the dying light.

"I will find you," he vowed, his voice resonating through the heavens and the underworld alike. "No matter where you are reborn. No matter how many lifetimes it takes."

The petals around him began to float, drawn to his energy. They circled him, a whirlwind of white and pink, a crown of flowers for the demon king. His steps carried him forward, through the field of fallen gods and silent witnesses.

Every step left a trail of black roses, their thorns sharp, their petals as dark as night. The world seemed to bend around him, the skies darkening, clouds forming in the shape of silver blooms. The universe itself mourned with him, the earth and sky bearing witness to a love that defied death.

And as he walked, the flowers behind him began to wither, their life drawn into the shadows. The world had taken his Elyon, but he would reshape it until it brought him back.

Time itself would bend. Realms would shatter. And when Elyon returned, he would find Zephriel waiting—unchanged, unwavering, and eternally bound by the promise of love.