I’m Demon’s Son

The minister entered her grand palace, her high heels clicking sharply against the cold marble, the sound reverberating through the vast, empty halls. Her expression was one of triumph, yet her features were set in a cold, unfeeling mask.

In the corridor ahead, Aoi's caretaker stood waiting, her face pale and lined with worry. She had sensed that something was terribly wrong from the moment the minister had left with Aoi, and the sight before her now confirmed her fears.

A servant followed close behind the minister, carrying the unconscious body of Aoi. The torn clothes around her body just hung loosely about her fragile frame. The girl who once walked with such full life now merely seemed a shadow of what had once been a vibrant soul.

The minister stopped in the center of the corridor and gestured sharply. The servant, without hesitation or care, lowered Aoi onto the cold marble floor, her limp body settling lifelessly against the polished stone.

The caretaker gasped, rushing forward and dropping to her knees beside Aoi. Her trembling hands hovered over the girl's battered form before cradling her gently. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she took in Aoi's pale face and the faint, uneven rise and fall of her chest.

"What have you done to her?" sobbed the caretaker, her voice heavy with anguish and quivering with barely controlled fury. Her tear-stained eyes turned up toward the minister. For one brief moment she searched for some hint of humanity in him, and saw nothing there.

The minister's lips curled into a smirk, her gaze icy and remorseless. She looked down at the caretaker with a sneer, her voice cutting like a blade. "Take her to your village and keep her there until she recovers," she commanded, each word dripping with disdain. "I have no use for her right now."

The caretaker froze, stunned by the coldness of the order. "You're abandoning her?" she whispered, disbelief and anger mingling in her voice.

But the minister had already turned on her heel, her luxurious robes sweeping across the floor as she walked away without sparing a glance back. Her silhouette disappeared into the shadows of the grand hallway, leaving behind an air of finality and indifference.

The caretaker clutched Aoi closer and swept a lock of hair away from her face. "I'm so sorry, my dear child," she whispered through her tears. "I'll protect you, I promise."

__________________________

Nine months had passed since then, and the silence of the morning was shattered by the loud cries of a newborn. The cries echoed in the humble abode where Aoi lived now, a far cry from the cold grandeur of the palace.

Carefully, the servant moved, shaking hands wrapping a swaddling in soft white linen. Her heart ached for Aoi who lay on a worn bed now weak and pale. The eyes that once burned bright with mischief were now brimming with the storm of fear, rage, and despair.

When the caregiver came with the small bundle, Aoi jerked. Her eyes narrowed; her hands instinctively shot up and pushed the child away.

"Take this devil's child away from me!" she screamed in a voice that was raw and cracking. The tears that had been building inside her for months now freely ran down her face. Her chest heaved as she buried her head in her quivering hands.

The baby's cries faltered, softening into a broken whimper, as though silenced by the weight of Aoi's rejection.

She just stood silently, breaking into tears over what she saw before her. Cradling the child to her chest once again, with a resigned sigh, she backed off. Out there, beneath the soft lights of the sun which had slowly been rising into morning, she kneeled into tall grass. Then she set the infant inside the small woven basket lined up in blankets.

Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved a delicate necklace adorned with a shimmering blue stone. The gem caught the light, its surface glowing faintly as though imbued with some unspoken power.

The caretaker's lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile as she fastened the necklace around the baby's neck. "This will protect you from the darkness of your father," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And grant you the strength to rise above it."

Her fingers lingered on the cheek of the baby, tracing the softness with tears brimming in her eyes. "You bear no fault in this, little one," she whispered barely audible. "You are innocent, and you deserve a chance to live."

She took a deep breath and then lifted the wicker basket and moved toward the river, which lay just nearby. The soft flow of its water seemed to beckon, inviting life beyond the shadow of what had occurred.

She knelt by the river's edge and slowly lowered the basket into the stream. The sound of its beginning to float accompanied the wail of the baby, merged in a soothing rustle of river flow.

With clasped hands, she closed her eyes, whispering an inaudible prayer carried by the breeze.

____________________

In the Devil's Realm, the air was thick with unnatural chill, seeping into the bones of even the most hardened souls. The grand, shadowed hall of the devil stood eerily silent until a deafening roar shattered the stillness and reverberated through the towering obsidian walls.

The devil sat, his glowing eyes burning like twin embers. His clawed fingers dug into the armrests, cracking the dark stone beneath his grasp, as he sat on an ornate throne carved from the bones of ancient beasts.

"I *felt* it," he snarled, his voice a thunderous growl that shook the foundations of his domain. "My son. born of my blood. but now." He paused, his fiery gaze narrowing into a dangerous glint. "The connection is severed."

The courtiers, dark figures cowering in the far corners of the hall, exchanged fearful glances but dared not speak. The devil's fury was legendary, and no one wished to draw his ire.

With a wave of his clawed hand, the devil called out his soldiers. Smoke-like forms coiled and materialized before him, their dark essence pulsating with malevolent energy. They knelt in unison, their heads bowed low in reverence and fear.

"Find my son!" roared the devil, his voice thundering like a tempest. "Seek out every realm, every shadow, every mortal crevice. Bring him to me alive, or bring me the head of the one who hides him!"

The smoke figures shivered at his command, their forms twisting with urgency. Without a moment's hesitation, they dissolved into streaks of black vapor, racing out of the grand hall like a storm unleashed. Their presence left a trail of cold, bitter darkness in their wake.

The devil leaned back on his throne, his fiery eyes smoldering with an unrelenting hunger. His lips curled into a sinister smile. "No one escapes me," he murmured, his voice low and menacing. "Not even my own blood."