The air was thick with blood.
The blood of his kin, his pack, his kingdom. All of it draining from the bodies and seeping into the sodden earth; a reminder that would haunt the springtimes to come, in the form of green grasses and wildflowers. A vengeance that would not rest.
A vengeance on him.
He wasn’t one of them. He was a beast who holstered the wrath of gods -- a monster that reeked of death and destruction. The pup had seen the way he’d torn through his home, breaking it as easily as one would shatter glass. He’d glimpsed the raw rage in the beast’s violet eyes, a type of fury that could only be found only in the deepest pits of Tartarus.
His kin had seen it, too -- that unparalleled fury. The pup knew they’d seen it simply by the way their eyes guttered like flames, their valiant gleams replaced instead with a kind of hopelessness that pleaded for death. And they’d remained that way, even after the beast had torn through their flesh and bone. Even after their hearts had slowed. Even once their blood had long gone cold, their bodies unmoving on the ground. Even then, that glassy gleam had haunted their unseeing gazes; a hopelessness that could suck all light from the sun as the beast had sucked the life from them.
The pup cowered at his father’s hind. Something glowed brighter in the beast’s violet eyes as he regarded them -- a thirst for blood of the likes the pup had never seen before, and will likely never see again. A type of hatred that would take eons to cultivate.
The pup will never understand his father’s bravery in that moment. He stood tall and proud, despite all those who had fallen around him: his friends, his family, his kingdom; despite the death glaring down on them. He wavered not once as he held the demon’s gaze.
The beast tilted on its haunches, readying to pounce. The pup’s hairs stood on end as a strange electricity pulsated through the air, a faint purple aura encasing the monster.
“Azriel,” came the father’s steely voice. His eyes weren’t on his son. Their bodies rattled as the beast began its advance, every thumping step leaving craters in its wake, every snarl echoing through the ruin and rubble, getting closer and closer--
If it wasn’t for the pup’s keen hearing, he wouldn’t have heard it -- the words his father whispered as death charged for them. Everything seemed to freeze in that moment, as though it were simply the pup and his father -- like the times they’d trained together in the meadows; peaceful. He would never forget those words, not in a million years.
The pup nodded, closing his eyes
