The Divine and the Damned

AZRAEL.

Days after the fight with Dragos I still remained troubled by my inner demons.

I had dreams of the Divine Purge laying waste to my kind, leading to our mother's death.

And lastly, I had vivid dreams of her.

Memories of our little time together haunted me, then flashes of her mutilated body, and the agony I'd felt that day— the lingering emotional agony that continued to disrupt my sleep.

Though it had happened centuries ago, the memory wasn't vague, and the crushing torment never ended.

Alana, my favorite courtesan stirred as I left the bed, and I stopped to stare at her for a long moment, wishing someone else was in her place.

I had a specific type I only ever laid with—statuesque, blue-eyed blondes with skin as pale as porcelain, like the one lying asleep before me.

They all had to bear some sort of resemblance to her... the first girl to ever steal my heart.

On entering the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror.

I stared at myself intently, seeing my father's unnatural blue eyes and silver-blonde hair, and I hated it.

I loathed the striking resemblance I bore to Father because every time I stared, I saw him staring back, and it brought back memories of how I'd failed to be there for his last words.

How I had fallen short in guiding Dragos to embrace his destiny.

Constantly, the thoughts in my head screamed that I was a disappointment, a failure, incapable of living up to my father's brilliant legacy... and also a failure for being unable to save her.

I had been foolish enough to endanger her life... the only girl I ever loved.

Angrily growing out my claws, I slashed at my face repeatedly, but my wounds healed quickly.

In frustration, I growled and hit the sink, shattering it. The crumble of the ceramic alerted Alana and she rose to approach me in the bathroom. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, her bright blonde hair hanging down her back, some spilling over her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" she asked, groggily.

I ignored the question and turned to face her. Of all the women I'd been with, she resembled her the most.

"Get back in bed and take off your clothes" I commanded brusquely.

She hesitated, a brief hint of surprise crossing her face, and I could almost see the thoughts whirling in her mind. Thoughts that questioned my sanity for demanding sex again at such an ungodly hour, especially after we'd already been together multiple times earlier.

But I was paying her well enough to keep her mouth shut.

Quietly, she turned and took off her robe, getting into the bed to wait for me. She curled herself into a fetal position just as I always demanded, and I joined her soon enough.

As we began to kiss, I imagined she was the one I'd lost. It was a pathetic attempt to escape the pains in my heart, but nonetheless, it was an attempt.

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The next morning, I stood on the veranda of my beachfront estate, enjoying the view of the waters stretched out before me.

The breeze blew against my hair, filling me with a sense of calm but the chaos in my mind still brewed. Relentlessly.

My mother's voice echoed in my mind, reminding me of my father's diplomatic nature.

After my attempt to harm Dawn, I'd chosen to isolate myself, settling in one of my beach houses to reflect deeply on my actions. I'd been thinking for days, conflicted and at war with myself.

Deep down I knew my brother wouldn't lie about the dream he had about Dragavei, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Dawn was still a threat, despite Dragos' assurances. That and because I disliked the idea of my brother falling in love again.

Love was a vulnerability. A weapon that could be used against him.

It had already begun to cloud his judgment, leaving him susceptible to manipulation, and I didn't want that for him.

I was trying to protect him, but it seemed I was the only one who understood my true motives. Just me.

Everyone else appeared oblivious to the fact that I loved him and that my actions, however misguided they were, stemmed from a desire to protect him.

My methods may have been harsh and even cruel, but my intentions were pure.

Wasn't that all that mattered? The intention?

But what was I thinking? My situation was frighteningly absurd. I was a five hundred and seventy-two-year-old vampire suffering from a range of mental disorders—PTSD, paranoia, insomnia, and possibly OCD, accumulated over the years. Who was I to claim I knew what was best for him? I was beyond damaged.

"You look troubled, Azzy," Alana said softly as she approached me.

Due to personal reasons, I had strictly instructed her to address me only as "Azzy"

I didn't respond, my mind far too consumed by thoughts of my father and what he would have done in this situation. I knew my father would have explored all options first, something I myself was failing to do.

Alana started to press her body against mine. "Azzy" she purred in a drawl "Drink from me"

I shoved her back angrily "Behave. I'm thinking"

She regained her balance. "You're extra uptight these days"

I didn't respond.

Alana walked forward again, a sad expression on her face "You don't care for me, do you?"

I turned to look at her, leaning back against the banister "Why would I? You're a whore"

"Whore's a little bit outdated, isn't it? I'm your mistress" she retorted, her lips quivering in sorrow. "Your favorite one. That has to mean something"

"You are drunk" I stated angrily "Go sleep it off. I have other pressing matters to deal with"

Her eyes were sad "I want to be able to make love with you and know you don't see me as someone else" she whined.

"You're in no position to be making demands. You mean nothing to me" I stated coldly.

Alana recoiled, her anger evident. "I mean nothing?" she questioned, stepping backward. "Perhaps when I leave, you'll understand how important I am to you."

I had scoured countries until I found her, and I was not going to let her simply walk away like that.

"Don't be stupid" I warned. "Go to bed and sleep it off"

"No"

I sighed, rubbing against my temples. How could one mortal woman be such a bother?

Straightening, I pulled her to myself and gazed into her eyes, compelling her to return to the room and remain there till I called on her. Like a robot, she complied.

After she was gone, I turned and walked towards the ocean, barefooted.

I began to picture the consequences of killing Dawn.

Apart from seeing the anguish in my brother's eyes like when I had taken Rose from him, I could feel the chaos unfold within our family.

The bickering voices in my head wrestled with each other.

"Kill her. That has always been the best thing. Remember your training. Always eliminate threats," one voice whispered.

"Remember what happened with Rose. Dragos would never forgive you," another countered. "And your brother's forgiveness is one thing you've always wanted"

"Your actions are for the greater good," a third voice chimed in. "Remember that. She threatens your kind"

"You have believed in Dragavei your whole life. Do you doubt his words now? His words spoken through your Alesul?"

"ENOUGH!" I growled, blocking my ears.

But amidst the rumbling disaster in my mind, a small voice spoke up, coaxing me to consider a different path. It was the same small voice that had spoken up when I killed Rose and when I harmed Dawn.

My conscience. My conscience that I'd tried to snuff out since after my first love's death.

"You've witnessed the joy Dawn brings him, haven't you? You've observed how different he is when she's near. Why would you seek to destroy that?" It said. "It was unfortunate that you couldn't be happy, you've unknowingly projected your pain and trauma onto him. So why deny your brother his second chance at happiness?"

Dragos had, without hesitation, laid waste to the Dark Order in mere moments when they threatened Dawn's life. I knew what he shared with her was something I never had, one I feared I might never have, and besides, the curse had started taking its toll on me, with Dawn being said to be the only one capable of curing it.

But above all, would whatever action I took make my father proud? My father whom I loved so much.

I realized that I'd never considered this question in the past when I'd let my bitterness and anger control me.

Slowly, I found myself reflecting on my past deeds and the impact they had on the people around me. Soon, I found myself questioning the choices I'd made.

I'd been so consumed by anger, pain, and the need to do better, no matter the cost that I'd been blind to see how much my actions affected others.

I was ready to make amends.