The sky blazed with fire. Not because of the bonfires or the fire slowly burning the forest - it seemed to radiate an eerie heat by itself, turning the air orange. It was hard to breathe because of the pungent smell of burning, which clogged in the nostrils and burned the mucous membrane to the very throat, the eyes were watering, and sweat poured down the faces of the fighters in three streams. The good people trumpeted the retreat, trying to pull at least some of their wounded from the battlefield, knowing full well that if they were discovered by the enemy, no one would be left alive. Werewolves - some in reverse, some not - walked between the bodies of the fallen, finishing off those who were still breathing, periodically wincing in disgust at the screams of the faeries, driven by blood-thirsty vampires. Mages - those who were on their feet and had a sufficient supply of energy - continued to work in the field hospital, running from one wounded person to ano

 It concealed the way his lips were curling, lazily, into a mischievous grin; or the eerie glint of his golden eyes, that reflected the joy his heart was feeling. The darkness seemed like an invisible cloak; he imagined tendrils of black smoke dancing around his feet, crawling their way on the walls that surrounded him, seeping inside the cracks of the pavement. He could see it playing with itself, stretching and embracing everything, caressing his hands, his back, messing up his hair, while covering the whole abandoned alley. It continued, undisturbed, until it disappeared around the corner. The darkness was total, and he was enjoying it immensely. He couldn't stop grinning. He loved the feeling. Loved how the absence of light made him feel hidden and revealed at the same time; how his magic responded at the taste of the darkness around him; how his heart suddenly started fluttering in his chest, as if it w

Six Months after attack:-  Dean wasn't sure when the idea started to occupy his mind. Could it be the first time he met the angel? He remembered that day he saw him in the Adom house, shooting an dragger straight into the him. Sam James was a pleasure to the eye. Dark hairs and beautiful eyes, broad shoulders carrying his bow and arrows. His walk spoke of not arrogance that he found in the majority of angels but of confidence, and strangely mixed with a subtle sense of lost. It was like he didn't know where he belonged. The way he evaded people's eyes and couldn't maintain eye contact for mere seconds, Dean confirmed that Sam was a man with many secrets. Secrets that even his platonic soulmate, his family, didn't know. Dean was also a man with many secrets, just that he was better at hiding them due to many years on earth. Living in human World, lying was a necessary skill to stay alive.

Type marched into his bedroom with tears running down his cheeks. His vampire flang was burning as the salty tears trailed down his left cheek . Boss called them their love marks but to him it was daily reminder that he couldn't escape this hell. He strode towards the vanity to look at the damage Man caused to his face when he try to run. He slowly raised his left hand and tentatively stroked his cheek. As soon his fingers touched the flesh he hastily withdrew his hand with a wince. He gripped the pointed wooden edges of the vanity as he leaned closer to study his reflection in the mirror. His heart ached at seeing his ugly face...no one would except him with this face and body ...no one would except his mates . He was forever stuck here with them. Even if he got out of this tower and somehow got back to the mortal world everyone would be scared of him...just like he was scared of the demons when he first came in here to