Pure

 

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Prologue

In the beginning, God created his Angels, the Pure Ones. The first Angel he created was Death. A beautiful, kind hearted girl, who guided spirits to the afterlife when their existence was to end. Death worked alongside God for many years, watching as the humans, animals and magical creatures known as Metrians went about their eventful, if only fleeting, lives. 

As the years went by, Death became more and more intrigued with the angels on Earth, which were also known as Pure but not of the same breed as Death. She watched as each angel came of age and left the angel city of Arilen to integrated themselves into Metrian families, in order to protect them and earn the title of guardian. Death watched the way the angels interacted with everyone around them and felt a new emotion creep into her heart.

Although Death looked after every soul in the afterlife and could talk with the few angels that had grown old enough to die, she craved the company of another like her, another Angel, created with no life limit. Someone that she would never have to say goodbye to, as she had to whenever a spirit was sent back down to earth to start a new life.

Eventually this emotion, this longing, became so great that Death asked God to make her a companion. Even though God didn’t want to lose his first creation to another, he knew that if he didn’t grant Death’s wish she’d lose her light and easily become the same as the earthly angels that she diligently watched over.

And so God made his second Angel. Death’s complete opposite, a wild, fiery-tempered boy named Pain, whose vibrant imagination allowed him to create infinite ways in which to punish ones who wronged on Earth. Despite his temper and chaotic nature she loved him as a brother and was always happiest when in his company. As time progressed, God grew jealous of Pain’s close relationship with his original Angel and began giving Death more duties that kept her closer to him, so much so that eventually she no longer went down to the afterlife.

Although Pain was independent and free-spirited, he longed for his sisters company and calming presence and so, using his creative nature he made a puppet with the same face as Death’s. But it was only a lifeless shell with no soul to animate it, and it did little to relieve his loneliness. Death saw this from her, now permanent, perch beside God and a new wave of adoration for her ‘brother’ swept over her. Defying God’s orders she went down to the afterlife to see Pain’s creation.

After taking the puppet into a secluded part of the afterlife she carefully took out half of her heart and placed it into the puppet. Death watched happily as the puppet’s eyes opened and she changed from wood to flesh. The former puppet bowed to Death before speaking.

 “My dear sister, I am so grateful for your sacrifice. I know what you wish of me and I will gladly keep watch over Pain.”

Death nodded and smiled before casting an eye over the new angel. She is only a half-breed the Angel noted. Before Pain had been born God had told her that no-one could create or modify an angel, because they would never be a true angel. The angel-made half-breed before Death was her exact replica in everything but colouring. Where angels had pure white hair and wings that turned an icy blue when in shadow, this girl’s hair and wings were a deep blood red. She shared the same ruby coloured eyes but they were missing the slight hint of gold that Death’s held, and where angels wore only white, with small splashes of gold or silver, such as stitching, linings and the delicate silk ribbons that were threaded into Death’s hair, the former puppet wore a dress of deep burgundy and ribbons of black.

Death snapped out of her revere and smiled. “Have you already been named?”

The half-breed nodded. “My name is Sorrow.”

“Well Sorrow I trust you to take care of my dear Pain.” With that she left, knowing that if she stayed any longer God would most definitely notice her absence.  

Sorrow kept her promise and watched over Pain as Death had, and as Sorrow shared half of Death’s heart they both experienced the same feelings and memories, so Death felt as though she were constantly by her ‘brothers’ side. Things went on happily for a long time until one day God saw Sorrow, so similar to Death, walking with Pain in the afterlife. God was so furious that Pain had defied him and had created something, especially in Death’s image, that he banished Pain down to Earth to live as a normal angel.

God forced Death to watch as the punishments that Pain had dreamed up were inflicted on him. As Death watched her half-heart began to harden and darken and she began to feel a new emotion that God had named ‘Anger’, as her bitterness towards God and those who would hurt her beloved ‘brother’ grew ‘Anger’ turned into something much more powerful and dangerous, a feeling that Death herself named ‘Hate’. 

Although Death’s heart was now twisted and warped the half that Sorrow carried remained untainted. What Death did not know was that there are already two parts to the heart, the ‘darkness’ and the ‘light’. The ‘light’ half is where ones hopes and principles lay, it is shaped by our beliefs and our subconscious want to trust and love. The ‘dark’ half is where the want for power and ability to seek out the evil in others is, this side is moulded by peoples actions, the worse we are treated or the worse we see others being treated the stronger this side grows.

Death had inadvertently cut her heart into these two parts and kept the ‘dark’ half, and now that her ability to forgive and feel guilt had almost gone she found nothing wrong in directing her hatred at the creatures she watched over. She cut lives short, extinguished souls and using many of Pain’s ideas created a new form of mass torture, which she proudly entitled ‘War’. She turned species, races, even families against each other, and with grim satisfaction she witnessed the first ever ‘murder’. It was nothing very spectacular, a human man killed a small animal, a fox to be precise. This however was the first time that a creature had been killed by another mortal, for something other than survival.

God did not act until things reached an extreme level. Finally, after watching a woman smother her own baby, God confronted Death.

“I CREATED YOU TO BE KIND AND JUST AND WHAT DO YOU DO? YOU ERADICATE YOUR OWN KIND! THERE ARE NOW NO MORE ANGELS ON EARTH! I WILL NOT STAND FOR YOUR UNNECESSARY CRUELTY! YOU WILL REPENT FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE, AND TO THINK THAT I TRUSTED YOU TO HAVE MORE SENSE AND MORALS THAN THAT CHAOTIC ‘BROTHER’ OF YOURS!”

God sent Death down to Earth just like he had with Pain. However unlike Pain God allowed Death to remain as a Pure Angel, although she would not be aware of her status or power. God gave her new memories of a life on Earth and she had no recollection of who she used to be. With these new memories Deaths heart softened considerably. But it still remained as a half, a half that would be influenced by the actions of others. And so she was reborn into the hell that she had created.

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Chapter 1

 

Argentine, Prince of the Metrians, squirmed excitedly in his high backed throne, a beautiful creation of carved mahogany that was situated next to his mothers and fathers, Queen Scarlet and King Logan. He scolded himself and despite the excitement coursing through him tried to sit still, however his hands continued to rhythmically tap against his knee. Today was his coming of age, his 18th birthday, and here he was acting like a child who’d been told he had to wait until everyone else had finished eating before he could have dessert.

 He cast a nervous glance at his parents hoping that they hadn’t noticed his uncouth behaviour as he once again shifted in his seat, but to his relief they were still staring intently at the giant oak doors that led into the lavishly decorated throne room.

 Queen Scarlet felt her sons gaze land on her and turned to him, reaching over she touched his hand with her own and smiled warmly. “The elders will be here soon.” she whispered.

 Argentine nodded once, and turning back to face the double doors ran his tongue along his abnormally large canines. He’d inherited his teeth from both of his parents. Their strength came from his father, a werewolf, the fierce and formidable ruler who sat perfectly still in his seat, every muscle beneath his tanned skin tensed as if ready to pounce, but his expression showed nothing but a resounding calm. There sharpness was thanks to his vampire mother, the elegant but strong figure that was sat next to him now, the water that flowed easily around the rock that was his father, all gentle persuasion that could cunningly mould him into whatever shape she wanted. That isn’t to say the Queen manipulated her husband, she was his confidant and he needed her quite intelligence and loving reserve just as she needed his determined will and moral strength. They functioned as a unit and as a unit had built one of the strongest kingdoms in existence.    

 The oak doors suddenly flew open, surprising Argentine out of his thoughts and causing him to jolt so much that he bit down on his tongue causing a hiss to escape him as he winced. King Logan shot his son a sharp glance thinking that Argentines hiss was a sign of disrespect, but seeing the small trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth and the tears he was attempting to blink out of his emerald eyes he realised that he had thought wrong.

 Logan gave a brief smile, Argentines fangs were relatively new, they only emerged in either a vampire or a werewolf at the end of puberty which for Argentine had been a few weeks ago. It normally took a couple of painful months which involved a lot of accidental biting and bleeding to get used to them and as Argentines teeth were sharper than most they would probably take a lot longer to get used to.

 The Metrian elders walked gracefully into the hall, the long back cloaks that denoted their ranks billowing behind them. They were followed by a mixture of vampire and werewolf servants pulling in a large, black box made entirely of glass. The black glass was so dark that it was almost opaque, with smoky shapes and symbols moved over the surface as if ethereal half-living souls were trapped within.

 Argentine unconsciously went stiff but out of fear, not readiness like his father. He didn’t like the aura that had now filled the room, an aura that seemed to be emanating from the box. The elders bowed, but it was a bow so low it was almost mocking, before looking directly at the royal family, no hint of the awed respect that the King usually inspired in his subjects present in their faces. With barely concealed glee the vampire elder spoke. “Your Majesties, it is a special day in this kingdom when one of royal blood comes of age, and such a special day warrants a special gift.”

  The elder of the vampire clan gestured towards the black box for emphasis. The two elders were almost complete opposites of each other. Faron, the vampire was a tall, elegant looking man with shoulder length, silver hair that was tied neatly in a low ponytail as was the fashion, and although he wasn’t overly muscular the way he held himself exuded power, the kind of power that comes from a mans belief that he is better than those around him. His companion Hunter, the elder of the werewolves, wore his strength more openly, he had a muscular build, a strong jaw and large hands that were used to work, be it forging weapons for the metrian army or breaking a mans neck for insubordination, his long chocolate brown hair was untied and windswept and he wore a beard of similar length which directly opposed the court fashion. 

  Turning to the servants Hunter clapped his hand once causing a sound which reverberated around the vast chamber, upon this unspoken command the servants quietly busied themselves with removing the front of the glass box.

  Argentine gasped in a mixture of surprise and anger as the contents of the box was revealed. His hand flew from the Metrina band on his wrist, a silver bracelet which was given to every Metrian at birth to distinguish them from the humans that they ruled over, to the golden sword at his hip, which had been given to him by his father for his last birthday as he tried to refrain from speaking out of turn.

  In the now open black box was a young girl, most probably one or two years younger than the Prince, she had waist length white hair, so white in fact that the shadows cast upon it were an icy blue instead of a grey. The plain white dress she was wearing reached down to her knees showing her bare legs and feet. Thick silver chains bound her hands and feet and wound up her body. She had a strip of white silk across her face, behind which her eyes were obviously closed in a peaceful slumber as her delicate facial features were relaxed and dreamlike. Most surprisingly of all though was that bound tightly behind her were a pair of pristine wings, the same blue shadowed whiteness as her hair.

 “Is that what I think it is?” The King asked, and although his expression remained impassive Argentine knew his father was just as shocked and aggravated as him. 

 The elders seemed to completely miss the edge to Logan’s voice and simply smiled proudly. “Yes my liege, the last angel, a divine servant for your son.”

 Argentine gripped the arms of his throne, his nails digging into the ornate wood, to stop from shouting, but his emerald green eyes burned with barely concealed fury at seeing such a noble and pure creature chained like a wild animal.

 “And why have her eyes been covered?”

 The vampire elder seemed delighted by the question and wasted no time in ‘educating’ the King. “Well my lord, any vicious creature can be calmed when their vision is obscured, when confronted with something new and unfamiliar even an angel will resort to instinctive violence. We thought it best not to risk any harm coming to yourselves or her.”

 The Prince looked over to his right as his mother smiled encouragingly at him even though he could see the same indignant anger he felt reflected in her face as she nudged him to stand up. Argentine complied and slowly walked towards the elders, who stepped aside to allow the box to be fully dismantled.

 Once the young angel had been unchained from the box she slumped forward into Argentines arms. He couldn’t help but notice the pale red marks on her skin from the chains as he pulled off her silk blindfold. He smiled gently as the girls ruby red eyes slowly opened and she looked up at the Metrian Prince in a confused daze. 

 Argentine stepped back to give the angel some room to stand on her own. She gazed around the crowded hall, clearly disorientated, as she flexed the cramp out of her wings with slow deliberate movements. The young Prince smiled again in an attempt to show the albino that he meant no harm, but upon seeing his fangs glinting as he smiled the angels expression went from one of confusion to one of terror.

 Argentine frowned and reached out a hand to reassure the trembling girl. “Its okay, nobody is...”

  The auburn haired Prince was cut off as the petite angel launched him across the room with a single beat of her magnificent wings. In one swift movement she reached behind her and plucked a single feather from her left wing, the feather began to glow a pale blue as the angel pulled her hand back as if to throw it, but before she had a chance to do so the heavy chains that had bound the young albino were thrown over her, knocking her off balance and forcing her to the floor. The servants held the chains tight to the floor to prevent the angel from standing again. 

  Having landed on the steps leading up to his family’s thrones, Argentine was coughing as he tried to regain the breath that had been knocked from him. He and watched, slightly dazed, as the elders apologised profusely to the King. “Please forgive us your Majesties, we thought that it would take longer for her to regain her strength after being bound by the chains.” 

  The Prince pushed himself off of the steps and went to stand next to his father who’d stood up with a fierce growl. “This is unacceptable; I will not have this girl treated like a wild animal. And I certainly will not allow for those barbaric chains to remain in my palace.”

 Argentine sent a heated glare over to the bewildered elders and walked back down to where the angel was trapped under the chains, her face contorted into a mask of pain. He pushed the servants away and began pulling the chains off before wrapping his arms around the albinos shoulders and pulling her into a sitting position. “She’s trembling.” He looked over to his farther in surprise. “And she’s crying, these chains they aren’t...” 

He let the question hang in the air as Logan nodded. “I am not surprised, not after the treatment she has received.” The King glanced at the other inhabitants in the hall before speaking again in a louder tone. “There are too many people, she is overwhelmed.”

 “But sire...” The werewolf was silenced by the deadly glare he received from the King. The elders bowed reluctantly and exited the hall along with the gathered metrian nobles, their servants, carrying the panels of glass box on their shoulders, following obediently after them.   

 Argentine helped his father finish unchain the angel, whilst the Queen attempted to sooth her. “There is nothing to be afraid of, no one is going to harm you, you are safe.”

The young albino didn’t move, she kept her head bowed with her knees drawn up to her chest and her wings wrapped protectively around her. 

“She is right, no harm will come to you here.” The Prince knelt in front of the girl. “My name is Argentine Kross, Prince of the Metrians. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The angel took a deep breath to try and stem the flow of tears before slowly looked up at the crossbreed, her face clearly showing her distrust for the auburn haired Prince. 

The Metrian noble frowned. “May I know your name?” He asked as politely as he could, he’d always had a short temper and the recent encounter with the elders meant that his patiences was already wearing thin.

The young albino simply stared at the Prince, her ruby eyes fixed on Argentines own emerald ones as if they were playing a game where the first one to look away lost.

“May I know your name.” Argentine repeated forcefully, his words no longer a question.

The girl glared at him, still saying nothing.

“For the last time, what is your name.” The Prince grabbed her shoulder as if to emphasis his demand, but the angel smacked his hand away, glowering furiously at the hybrid for touching her.  

Argentine stood up. “FINE THEN! IF YOU DO NOT HAVE THE DECENCY TO BE CIVIL AND ANSWER ME THEN STAY HERE FOR ALL I CARE!” Ignoring the disappointed looks from his parents the young prince stormed out of the throne room leaving the petite albino girl cold and alone in an alien environment.

 

“Argentine.”

He ignored his mothers calls and continued to storm down the corridor. He was already feeling guilty for shouting at the terrified angel, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit that he’d overreacted and he didn’t need a lecture from his parents to make him feel any worse.

“ARGENTINE KROSS!”

The Prince froze, his mother never shouted. Argentine waited for his parents to catch up to him before turning slowly, an action which he instantly regretted as his fathers face was like thunder.

 

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