Devine Fate

POV: Nova

There is always light at the end of the tunnel.

Or so people say.

But my tunnel is a never-ending void of darkness — an infinite circle with no beginning, no end. A cruel game in which I balance the rights and wrongs of my decisions. Yet somehow, I am always wrong.

I am a fallen angel.

No… that isn’t quite right.

In fact, I’m not an angel at all. I am less than that, lower; tortured by the fact that I don’t know what I am.

Twelve decades.

One-hundred and twenty years.

That’s how long I’ve been living in this shithole.

When I’m not running around doing Lord Balor’s bidding, I’m locked up in this glorified cell.

The walls were the color of red wine, dark and rich. The floors were made of polished black stone slabs, an ancient victorian rug stretched across most of the floor, its once intricate design now faded with time.

On the far side of the room sat a large luxurious bed, draped in obsidian silk sheets and velvet covers. A nightstand rested on either side, candles long since melted into hardened wax.

Opposite of the bed stood a black antique vanity. To its left a closet door, and to the right a bathroom. In the center of the room were two armchairs and a small side table.

The room itself was quite beautiful despite its dark allure and the fact it was meant to be my prison.

There was no door, not one I could see in the last one hundred and twenty years; it could only be accessed from the outside and with permission. Hence my glorified cell.

Despite this, there was nowhere else I’d rather be than in here, aside from the holy realm of course, but to be completely honest, I knew I wasn’t even wanted there.

At least in the confines of my room I wasn’t being ordered to harm someone or something. I wasn’t subjected to torture or constant endurment of humiliation.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sounds of my room being accessed.

I watched as the walls warped and rippled like water, allowing someone to slip through the wall.

Layla.

My stomach knotted, my heart raced, even after all these years I was so anxious around her.

My twin sister gave into the darkness far quicker than I had. She had embraced – welcomed it wholeheartedly.

I want to believe my sweet, kind, kid sister was still in there somewhere. I fear her light had long been snuffed out.

“Get up,” she said coldly. “Lord Balor wants to see us.”

Because of her obedience, Layla had quickly gained the trust of Balor. She was free to roam the demon realm while I remained confined.

I didn’t argue.

I knew it was pointless.

Following her through the warped wall, we stepped into a familiar dimly lit hallway. Our footsteps echoed against the stone walls, filling the awkward silence as I trailed slightly behind her.

“Layla, I–”

“Shut up,” she seethed without even looking back. “It’s bad enough I have to tolerate your existence, do not talk to me as if we’re friends.”

My lips pursed in silence.

She hated me. Hated that despite my reluctantness to fully embrace the darkness Balor had planted within me, that he still kept me around.

I’ve always been stronger than Layla.

Even now balancing darkness against the remnants of light within me, Balor knew I was stronger.

It was the only reason I was alive.

Eventually, we reached two massive doors.

They opened slowly in anticipation.

A long crimson carpet stretched towards the throne at the far end of the room.

Black marble floors gleamed beneath flickering candlelight. Dark limestone pillars lined the room, towering overhead. Behind the throne, fire raged like a waterfall, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

Countless melted candles adorned the stairs leading upward.

And seated at the top…

Lord Balor.

12 decades, and the man had hardly aged.

His dark wavy hair cascaded down his shoulders, braids woven with gold jewelry. His amber eyes glowed against the flickering light.

He wore an all black suit with touches of maroon – crisp, elegant, deadly. The image of perfection. But the aura surrounding him radiated danger.

As we approached the base of the stairs his eyes landed upon mine. A devilish smile curved across his lips. This did not go unnoticed by my sister, and I could practically feel the hatred exuding off of her.

We dropped to our knees, bowing low until our foreheads touched the floor.

“Rise.”

Layla moved first.

She sauntered up the stairs and sat on his lap, crooning softly into his neck. She whispered something I couldn’t hear.

His brow lifted slightly in interest.

“Nova.”

His voice was deep, smooth, and dangerous.

“I’m feeling rather generous as of late,” he said. “Perhaps the stars are aligning. My spirits have been lifted.”

“I am pleased to hear that, Master,” I lied.

He chuckled.

“I’m sure you are, Nova,” he laughed sarcastically.

“I’ve called you both here because tonight marks the nine-hundred and ninety-ninth Solstice Anniversary.”

My heart dropped.

“ And, because I’m feeling generous,” he continued, “I’ve decided to have you both accompany me.”

No!

No, no, no anything but this, please.

I swallowed harshly, forcing a smile before dropping to my knees again.

“Master, I am beyond grateful… but I must decline. I am…unworthy of accompanying you.”

Silence. Then footsteps.

I dare not move as I feel him stop in front of me, crouching to my level.

His long slender fingers gripped my chin, lifting my face from the floor to meet his gaze.

“Are you afraid, Nova?” he murmured, tucking a stand of loose hair behind my ear. “Afraid that everyone will see you as you are now?”

His cold knuckles brushed my cheek before his hand gripped my face painfully.

“Disgraced. Weak. Pathetic little fallen angel,” he growled, his eyes turning crimson. “You do not belong to them anymore, you belong to me!”

His grip tightened even more, my brows furrowed from the pain.

“They will not accept you, they are disgusted by what you’ve become,” he taunts.

Tears threatened to fall from my eyes but I refused.

“You will accompany me to the solstice, and obey my every command, am I understood?” he whispered into my ear, his anger fading as quickly as it came.

I nodded, “Yes…Master.”

He releases me.

Tears that I fought hard to keep back now streamed down my face.

Layla stood there. Watching. Smiling.

“When will you learn, sister? The sooner you embrace what you are, the freer you’ll be.”