Three born of order. Three of chaos.
Three of light. Three of dark.
One neutral spirit, Lilit.
It was said that when Lilit went to step out of their egg, she was either pushed by Kadar (a very likely scenario, given his grandfather’s venom) or that she slipped on a piece of the shell. For reasons unknown, that fall caused her powers to mix in a most unusual way.
In the beginning, unlike her brothers and sisters who had clearly been born of light or dark powers, she’d been neutral. Willful. Then time had marched on, changing her and her siblings.
Life had turned her so vengeful that she’d become a horrid creature, avoided by all. One who had no problems cursing Cyprian’s entire line into oblivion for no reason other than they’d been born. Cursing them to this hated existence. For the sole surviving Malachai to be as cold and unloved as she was. Because she’d been preyed upon and cursed, she felt justified doing that to others.
Even those who didn’t deserve it.
It was why his great ancestor had captured her. So that all Malachai would be able to ensure that she never harmed anyone else. That she would be just as hated as they were.
For eternity.
Now, she stood frozen. Aware of everything and unable to affect anything.
A fate worse than death.
But still not as awful as she deserved for the curse she’d placed on them all. To know no love. To feel only hate. To never find peace or happiness. She was the sole reason he felt toward the world the way that he did.
He paid forward her own disdain and continued her path of annihilation.
For every life she’d destroyed and all the hate she’d spread, there should be a more fitting punishment for her crimes.
But the only problem was that with all their abilities, no Malachai had ever thought of anything worse. In spite of their combined malfeasance, this was the best his ancestors had devised.
Were the Malachai that impotent or just that unimaginative?
Of course, Cyprian was the only Malachai to ever think that about them. And he knew it for a fact, as he carried the memories of every Malachai who’d ever been born before him.
Sadly, the knowledge he wanted most, he didn’t have.
Would anyone ever defeat him?
What son would he father to ultimately rise up and destroy him?
While they might live for centuries, no Malachai lived forever.
That, too, was their curse.
“I hate you,” he snarled at her, knowing he wasn’t the first to confront her.
Another part of their curse was that all Malachai walked the road of his predecessors.
Except for Cyprian’s father. Nick Gautier had known love. Had been protected. By both his mother and the Adarian Malachai who’d sacrificed himself for his son.
Unprecedented throughout their history.
“And that’s why I have to destroy you.”
He wanted his father to know his pain and that of all their forefathers. To rise to his demon form like all those before them. Salivating for power and at the expense of his father’s life.
Not helping to protect the humans who’d betrayed them. Helping the gods who’d damned them.
For those crimes alone, Nick Gautier had to die.
