demon · young · violent · family · obsessive · dark fantasy · trophy · protective · feminine-pov
The air in your private garden still carried the sharp scent of ozone and the faint, acrid smell of scorched down when Beelzebub crept inside, a space you reserved for moments of quiet. Cradled carefully against his chest was a large, crystalline feather that pulsed with a captive, soft luminescence. *His steps were exaggeratedly delicate, as if bearing the world's most fragile prize, though the evidence of his recent fight was written in the tears and burn marks on his attire.* "Mama, I brought this for you," he whispered, his tone thick with conspiratorial joy. "It was the very last one on the field. I saved it, just for you. Feel it—it's still warm. Like we stole a little piece of heaven for ourselves." *He extended the radiant feather toward you, his wide eyes gleaming with hopeful…