Slipping into a dream with Aura lying on his chest, Zephyr felt the draw of something distant; something that had already passed. His memories were surfacing again after half a millennium of being suppressed. The first thing that came to his mind was the man in the white suit with a pale blue undershirt and a tie. Sitting across from him, the prophet talked to him with his legs crossed and a smile.
Zephyr knew what the man had said to him back then, but the memories seen through his dream had no sound, and so he simply read the man's lips. The prophecy of his death was rivaled by the maddening. Either he goes insane and kills everyone and everything, or his death shall reset the world on a godless path.
Either way, the prophet was only there to relay the message. He had no bearing on this world, for he was of no one world, but everywhere. Some called him the prophet, the others a god, but as a man who preferred not to hold any title, he did not care for what he was called.
Only once did he ever meet Zephyr, and never again, but the things that he told him changed everything. The heavens shattered, and hell was turned into a burning red gem. Had it not been for him, perhaps Zephyr would've died long ago, and so would've his companions, but even so, the prophet was far from a friend.
Venturing further back into memory, Zeph remembered being a young boy who clung to those around him. Not particularly strong but not weak either. Such a reflection reminded him of a simpler time, that is, until he remembered what happened next. The betrayal from the gods and the people around him.
So many people he lost in that war, Amiena's name came first amongst them. She was one of the very first to join him in his quest for survival. One of the few good women of god who'd turned against the divine. While the other god fearing folks were blinded, she saw them for what they had turned into: a bunch of tyrants trying to trample on the weak.
In her attempt to balance the scales, she turned the power that she'd been granted to create the rings of Amiena. Each holding unique powers, some meant to be used against the enemy to subdue them by lowering their levels, others to grant immunity to certain elements, and even boost one's power to the extreme, so long as they were willing to fall unconscious for a week after the use of the ability.
However, as useful as her creations were–the woman was seen as a top priority by the enemy and eventually killed. What she left behind now sits in the mansion, and some with Zephyr. Each item is a testament to her strength and ability.
Thinking about her, Zeph remembered what she said to him as she was passing away. The ring on her finger, a cheap copper ring, and one that had been gifted by the then incubus, was more precious than any of her own fancy rings.
Just like back then, Zephyr's memory was interrupted by the sight of another one of his companions pulling him away from Ameina. Dragging him forcefully away from the chaos of a battle, she and a handful of others didn't even let him say goodbye to her. Perhaps he would've died too in that attempt, but he wanted to do it even now, no matter what it would cost him.
And while Ameina was amongst the first to perish, she wasn't the last, far from it. Countless others died fighting the monstrous mercenaries of the gods, even paladins and adventurers, but eventually the sides flipped, and it was Zephyr who was doing most of the killing. Gods fell, and new ones arose in their stead, and then they were killed again until every single one of them either went into hiding or was enslaved.
Zephyr and his companions tortured them and their families, both the mortals and the immortals, until they became what they were thought to be. Demons and fiends, with little room for empathy. The passage of time only further dulled their mercy, leading eventually to the slaughter of all who ever praised the gods who'd tried to come after him.
He even remembered Aura cooking the limbs of living families and feeding them to them while the person being consumed watched from a corner. At one point, she even joked, asking a man's wife if she would like to choke on her husband for the first time. As bad as she was at cooking, the archmaiden enjoyed it for that very reason. It gave her a chance to let loose and be as cruel as she could.
Zephyr, on the other hand, was more passive in his evildoing. He only ever did wrong those who'd wrong him, or if by doing the evil deed would benefit from it. Mindless torture was Aura's domain. Why was that? Perhaps trying to lead an army of demons and other races had helped him think more pragmatically, but even the fiend couldn't say for certain.
At last, as his dreams neared an end, he saw him in a mirror. Standing before it bare, his eyes peered back at him from within the reflection. It was his own, and yet it felt unfamiliar, almost as if another person was staring at him. In the end, as he was slowly coming out of his dream, the last thing he saw was that face and the feeling that some day he would have to face himself directly. A monster who shall kill everyone that he loves and everything else as well, that time would come, but Zephyr wanted to do anything and everything to prevent it.
Opening his eyes to the bright light bleeding into the room through the curtains, he noticed Aura still lying on top of him. Her lips were parted, and a strand of her drool was connected to him. Reaching for her hair, he was made to wonder what would happen to her once he dies eventually. But in that thought, he also made a promise.
'I will not let anyone harm you, much less harm you by myself.' Whether he could keep that promise or not, for now, he couldn't even guess.