Castian's POV

Flames filled my veins, the concrete I once stood on shattering and exploding. I went dropping into a bottomless pit, the light above me obliterating to nothing. My hands were around my throat as my lungs choked for air. Blood spewed from my jaws as I kept falling for what felt like an eternity, fire scorching my flesh until Abaddon went black and I could breathe again.

Within a blink, I woke and stood in a metallic room, blood seeping from the walls as the floor burned and melted the bottoms of my boots. The flowing liquid from my wounds sizzled and evaporated as quickly as it escaped from my flesh. It didn't take long for my irises to make contact with the Vixen of an Angel, my blood-soaked claws shoving her against a wall by her throat. My pupils danced upon her flinched wings, her pathetic figure, "Can't trap me now, hm?"

Six times she got away with torture. Six times I laughed at her mewling attempts at hurting me. Six times I was bound and restrained. Six times I lay, unable to move or fight back.

"But on the seventh ritual...," I purred, chittering like a hunting bird as my voice became hollow and echoed, becoming more than one, "On the seventh ritual, a God will be born."

The room became thick with black smoke, it danced with the souls of the damned. It twirled and spun, growing high and then dropping low. The sweet pissed-off look she had was enticing, her voice a hiss, "You'd best behave. This is my domain, Young Man."

"You'd best not tempt me. I don't obey Vixens, Cunt. You have no power against me, now," I was quick to shove her wings violently against the ashed wall behind her, her pretty crystals and feathers tinted to grey and black as I growled against her throat. The force of her wings drew out a wince and a flap of them, her throat yelping as I continued, "Tell me what I want to know and maybe I won't tear them from your body, hm? We both know pretty things such as these really would make a fine piece to my collection."

"Unhand me!" Her confidence was bold but mine was overpowering as I forced her onto her knees, shoving her face against the wall, "I will not bow down to such a beast!"

I lifted her chin with my index, smiling into her lips as my other hand grabbed her hair, "I am not the beast here, Darling. Give me what I desire and I'll be on my way. Simple."

Flicking my tongue at her lips and down her jawline, I left little kisses along her collarbone, her voice fighting with rage, "I will not be tainted by the likes of you."

"Oh, but you already are, Little One," A chuckle ripped from my still gushing throat, my claws tearing the collar of the fabric that covered her breasts, "But how pathetic of you to think I want you. If I wanted you, I'd have you. You are a distaste to my tongue, I wouldn't fuck you even if you were to beg and plea that I needed to do it to save your kind. I'd fuck your corpse, though..."

Horror clasped around her face at the sadistic grin I had pondering upon my lips, knowing full well I had been thinking of death plenty of times. Her hands grasped around her breasts, holding the dainty fabric so she wouldn't fall exposed. I stepped back, pulling from her as she snarled, "You're a disgusting man! No wonder your soul is rejected from us! You belong to the Warped and Punished. We will not invite thee to the Purities."

"Yet your body smells like it doesn't reject my actions," My grin grew as I cocked my head to her, tsking as my eyes waved to her lower regions, "Even angels have a scent, Darling."

"Don't be so ill-minded," She huffed, turning from me in revulsion. She had my respect. She knew her chances with me were slim, that I easily had the power to annihilate her, but she remained bold. She kept her dignity and her strength, not daring to cower even if this could be her final moments.

"Now, business is to be attended to. Tell me about those things," Another snicker played at my lips as I smiled down at her, toying deviously with the fabric she so desperately tried to stay covered with, "You've got the information and I plan to get it one way or another. What are they and how are they made? What does Satan want with them?"

"They are known as 'Arachnide Dämon' for males or 'Arachnide Dämonin' for females. It's German for 'Spider Demon,'" Yanking from me, she forced herself onto her feet, shoving passed and muttering, "They are mutations from the cruelty of human death. Satan fell in love with the torture of the human body so much that his intercourse with the abused and damned caused a mutation in those that died of his hands. Upon collapsing, a corpse morphed into a Goddess, doomed to grow her kind."

She pulled out her annoying little snowglobe, showing me a woman. The lady was skeletal, with hardly any flesh to her bones. Her clothing was so old it was ragged barely holding on by its threads. You could see her trembling even though her surroundings gave away it was spring, maybe even summer. Her hair was matted, with leaves and sticks within it.

This gal walked with a group that matched her appearance. They'd chase after whatever trash flew around them as the Angel spoke, "Miss Alicia was so poor and hungry, and living with those similar to her, on the streets whatever garbage flew by, she and they would chase after it, praying that it'd be food. One day those who could easily help the poor souls drove by, mocking and laughing as they threw litter..."

"Meal, Meal, Meal!" I watched a Blue Camaro drive by, hearing the laughter rip out of the globe as I saw the group of homeless charge after it, the woman's voice calling out and claiming the rubbish as hers. Her feet never stopped as she strayed too far into the Spooks her group had been passing by. The poor hag ran right into her death, her body dragged into the darkness of a building, "Mine, Mine, Mine!"

You could see her nails digging into the doorframe and snap off, a shrill of fright and then silence. The Angel changed the scene of the Globe to a small child, "He and his friend were seen as undesirables and thrown out of an Orphanage... Forced to fend for themselves. Peter stole a little yellow wooden train to use as comfort when his friend Larsen stole it and ran away."

"Where's my toy? I want my toy!" Peter walked around town, searching high and low, he didn't seem to care about Larsen being missing as he constantly repeated the same phrase. Searching and searching the kid wandered into the Spooks, finding his friend torn to pieces by an Arachnide eating from his stomach. Without a care, he tapped the creature and reiterated, "Where's my toy? I want my toy!" Those were his last words.

The scene changed to the teenage girl Parker had tried to save. She was looking through the debris, trying to find something to eat as she evaded going home. A runaway teen. Finding Spooks, she was feeling it would be a good place to hide from her abusive searching parents, going into the wrong building and being chased by --- not one, but multiple of --- these bastards.

Crying and begging, her voice called and called, "MMMommmy!! Save me, Mommyyy!" as her body was dropped and dragged into the building, her nails prying off as she dug at the pavement to get away. She'd rather deal with the beatings than the monsters.

"They repeat their final phrases for as long as they are those Demons, feasting on the fear and torment of the human body," The Angel looked at me from the globe, her voice was pained, "They are damned to suffer in a state of cruelty, doing Satan's bidding and never being capable of resurrection. Their souls are trapped until they are set free from their prisons."

We seemed to come to a silent agreement our "battle" against one another was the least of our worries. That we weren't truly enemies, or that we should keep fighting one another.

She allowed me to hold the little globe, watching as I traced circles. I kept watching the scenes over and over. I couldn't stop myself. I needed to catch every detail, I didn't want to miss a damn thing. I couldn't miss a fucking thing, "Why the Spooks? What's so special about it?"

"The Goddess was dragged here before her making, along with other Gods and Goddesses. This place is his home as well as theirs, the growing freedom of torment feeds him and them. If he hadn't harmed her, the species wouldn't have been created. It is believed the brutality and violation of her love are what caused the mutation. Abuse is one thing," She lifted my chin, something in her eyes seemed to change. It was like she seemed to suddenly have no hatred toward me, but empathy. That left a pit within my stomach as she finished, "But to violate a Goddess's love and devotion is another. We rarely love. We rarely devote our time to someone or something. When we do, to rip it from us is the worst Sin... It causes things even we cannot save the world from."

She pulled up a woman in the fourth scene, stepping back so I could watch. My heart felt pained, aching, and throbbing. It stampeded like spooked bison in the wild.

I watched the lady with her golden wings. They sparkled beautifully under the sun, you could see every twinkle when she moved. Her smile was warm and kind, her eyes bringing life to the world around her. Her pearl white hair flowed with the wind, the small flowers shuttering but undisturbed within her locks. Her fingers danced against buildings, everything she touched growing plants. She was turning the Spooks from a haunted place with stupid ghost stories into something stunning like it use to be. She was trying to make this place our home, again.

My jaw clenched as my throat tightened, I couldn't fight the tears that swelled up and rivered. I didn't dare to stop watching, admiring as I watched her swirl and sway. I listened to her little voice sing from the stupid glass ball, "Close your eyes.."

I closed my eyes, paying attention as she sang Beautiful Boy by John Lennon. I zoned out as she began to sing You're Gonna Be by Reba McEntire next, humming weakly with her. It'd been so long since I heard her sing. I knew this moment wasn't going to last, I knew the cruel reality that waited... But I just wanted to be ignorant for one more moment. My index finger replayed the songs one more time. I just needed them, just one more time.

Taking a deep inhale, I held it, and shakily exhaled, letting it continue passed the songs as my eyes slowly opened and watched. She was still trying to make the place prosper as she came to a specific house. Claws and talons ripped from the doorway, completely tearing off her wings and dragging her into the home. Her shrieks were deafening, her begging heartbreaking as you could hear what was being done to her.

This scene was so much different, you could hear everything. You couldn't see everything but the sounds were visual enough. You could picture it with just the noise. They were haunting.

"The violated Goddess you speak of," I murmured, my heartbreak was now acidic. My heart blackened with Wrath as I lifted my head to the Angel, her pitied thoughts of realization about me being confirmed, "She was my mother."