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Lipsonhiseyelids—thefirst touch Saer ever experienced—a delicate and heartbreaking kiss.
Saer blinked open his new eyes and beheld his maker.Lucifer’s irises, so light a blue they were almost white, stilled his shuddering inhale.A gemstone came to his mind, something Saer had never seen but knew, like it had been etched into his bones.
Drained sapphires.That’s what Lucifer’s eyes resembled.
Maker.Creator.
Lucifer smiled, and the expression struck Saer between his…
Ribs.He had…ribs.And Lucifer somehow hurt the spaces between them with the curve of Its lips.
Bewitching and wicked, dazzling and tragic, too many emotions overwhelmed his freshly born body.Pearlescent, feathered wings framed his maker’s radiance, tucked into Lucifer’s back.Curls of gold brushed Its forehead, cascading upon pristine, bare shoulders.
Saer yearned to touch the silken tresses at the same time he wondered why.
Lucifer spoke in a voice as agonizing and lovely as Its face.“Saerkhanumsherrinikakore.”The jolt of Saer’s true name sang through him, compelling and powerful.His knees shook.
Lucifer’s voice dipped.“My Saerkhanum.”This version of his name resonated as well, spoken with something like familiarity and affection, though it didn’t carry the same weight as his true name.
“Welcome, my FirstDaemoenic.”With Its pale hand, the fallen angel made an elegant gesture to the surroundings.
Daemoenic.Angel.Fallen.These concepts filtered in.Saer didn’t question their accuracy.They simply were.
It took all of Saer’s willpower to tear his gaze from his maker.
A monstrous cavern surrounded the pair.Lines of molten red snaked through the stone, illuminating where blazes of Hellsfire couldn’t.
Magma.Another word he’d not been taught, yet it came to him.
Saer’s nostrils flared to the scent of smoke, fire, and a tinge of lava mixed with old blood, burnt feathers, and flesh.Patches of Hellsfire licked at the ground, and as Saer traced the flames’ path to his own body, they reflected off his silver feet.
No.
Not feet.
Hooves.
His maker had feet, but Saer had glinting, silver hooves.Brow knitting, Saer raised his hands into view.
His chiseled forearms were coated with leathery flesh, black as charcoal.Silver claws tipped his onyx fingers, vicious and threatening.Nothing like Lucifer’s hands.
Weapon.
The word leapt into his mind, and Saer knew he was powerful and important.He knew his purpose.
Lucifer’s elegant fingers traced along the side of Its creation’s jawline, drawing Saer’s attention back.“My First, my son, my servant.I’ve created you, and so you belong to me wholly and completely.”The fallen angel’s finger drifted outward, touching the tip of a curved, silver horn.
Saer’s horn.He had horns instead of lustrous curls.
“You are bound to protect me, obey me, and put no others before me.If you are honored to be mine and so understand and swear to follow these conditions, tell me as much.”
Protect.Obey.Honor.
Saer grasped the words with certainty, their weight settling on him with their undeniable importance and finality.The impulse to dedicate himself to someone or something had been forged deep in his sinew and bones, and now, he teetered on the precipice of a monumental choice.If he declined, he knew it would be the last thing he ever did.Yet, something in Saer’s core hesitated.
He was powerful.Important.And with that realization came the innate knowing of what Lucifer had commanded and utilized to craft him.
