Dark Seraphim Novels & Stories

He immediately inspires confidence and security. Henry is almost as tall as Santo, but he is much more slender in build. He has curly blond hair cut short and sky-blue eyes that shine with kindness and gentleness. What's more, Henry is a hopeless romantic who believes that he will find the love of his life at the corner of a street. Henry is an angel of kindness, and Santo is a demon that the Lord has placed on Earth to remind us of the existence of purgatory. And my husband, Elio, is the only person in this world who can control this demon.

“We don’t know if this is the apocalypse, Azazel! For all we bloody know, this might not have anything to do with the end of days! All we can do is keep our eyes open for any other signs and research to see why this is happening.” Mathias stops between us, his golden eyes glowing with intelligence as he sifts his fingers through his crimson-colored locks. Due to my status as The Creator’s disgraced son, I’m not very well-liked by angels, which bothers me little because I’m not too fond of them. However, the Seraphim, Mathias, has been one of the few for who I feel respect. From the moment we’ve met, he has been cordial and kept his prejudices to himself. He has also shown deference for who I

My eyes rolled back. "Mm," I moaned. I felt every press of his fingers. It sent chills through my veins. A smile tugged across my lips. The next moment, I snapped out of it. I jumped off the bronze chair and turned swiftly to look into his eyes. Those blue piercing eyes were gone, replaced by deep crimson ones. "You aren't Mitchel," I said, trying to convince myself that everything he said was fake. "No matter what you think, I will remain Zarchios," he said.

They were not just soldiers; they were acolytes, a cult of death and darkness. Seraphina was dressed in a flowing red robe, her hair unbound, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. She was not just a woman; she was a conduit, a vessel for a power that was older than the mountains, a power that was consuming her from the inside out. "You're too late," she said, her voice a low, hypnotic murmur that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "The ritual has begun. The veil is thin. The old gods are listening."

Feathers smashed, bones shrunk, thunder flaked. Seraphina's energy gushed out, creating a swirling glow that resembled erupting flames. Nevertheless, every second moved her towards becoming even more insane. Her vision blurred. She could hear a whisper inside her, "Come with me.". Embrace the darkness.”. Her hands trembled as the temptation tugged at her. The voice of Fabian pierces the darkness. "Fight it!" -- Fight for us!”. Their eyes met—raw, desperate. With a loud scream, she drove back into the darkness.

something dangerous and dark. Another email popped up immediately after. 'Good night, Elise. Don't worry too much. We don't have any bad intentions towards you. Rest well and don't forget us. We'll meet again soon. And before we forget, please note that we don't harm anyone innocent. Never did, never will.' Azael & Reuel.

Serafina’s POV: [Late Noon | Her Studio] My safe haven was no longer safe. Why? Because when I slid my door open, the literal devil was lounged on my couch. I liked how my place smelled like fabric and dye. I did not appreciate the addition of cedar that drifted in the air. I never tried to convince myself that Aleskander would leave. Nah. I wanted the Sin of Pride, and it'd hurt him so bad if things ended on my own accord.

I watched his finger moving in circles on the surface of the polished metal table top. "I know, I'm not worthy, besides there have been many young bucks sniffing around intent on courting her. Even an angel came knocking at my door," he said with wide eyes as if still in shock about it. I grinned as Salgos told me about the angel that had taken an interest in Cyra. Apparently he had come when Lucifer was busy with us in the human realm. "He's an attractive man, shoulder length black wavy hair and blue, blue eyes. He has black feather wings. His name was Seraph and he's the son of Abaddon." I gasped softly and swallowed uncomfortably not realizing he had another son besides Ronin.

Seraphine had turned Blacksite 47 into a digital blackhole, collecting secrets to hold the world hostage. In the center of the room was a single chair. Occupied. Seraphine. She stood slowly, a long coat swirling around her. Her hair was longer now, black as ink. Her eyes glowed with something almost unholy—half brilliance, half madness. “You look good, Rafa,” she said with a smile. “All grown up.” Rafael raised his weapon. “You don’t have to do this.” “But I do,” she said, stepping closer. “We were created in hell. You climbed out. I stayed. I built an empire in the ashes.”

CHAPTER 174 DANTE The final assault came at dusk. Seraph did not send his cultists this time. He came by himself. He walked through the front gates of the palace like he owned them, cloaked in a twisted version of Rowan’s golden light. But where Rowan’s power burned clean and bright, Seraph’s version was corrupted, black fire wrapped in false gold. It moved like living shadows around his body, and every step he took left scorched footprints on the stone.