3. Devilish Angel ...
In Shadowline City ---
After completing her morning prayers, the soft golden light from the stained-glass windows fell across Sister Florence's wrinkled hands. She breathed out a peaceful sigh and turned with a gentle smile.
"Elli… my child, have you finished your morning prayers?" her voice echoed softly through the quiet chapel.
But instead of Marcelline's sweet reply, another voice floated in—bright, amused, and unmistakably mischievous.
"Elli went for a run with her brothers," Amara called out casually.
The smile instantly faded from Sister Florence's face. Her eyebrows drew together in deep worry.
"Oh dear heavens…" she muttered, placing a hand on her heart. "This child never listens to me. At the very least she should have done her morning prayer… and her breakfast! Who goes running before the sun is even fully up?"
Her voice trembled with fear.
"And what if… what if someone sees her? Or her brothers—oh, Lord, her brothers…"
And truly, no one could blame her worry. Marcelline was not just any girl. She was the forbidden creation of demon blood and angel light—a creature of breathtaking beauty and unimaginable destruction. A single flicker of her power could crumble mountains, crack earth, or end armies.
And her brothers—Alpha the werewolf with eyes like molten gold, Leo the beast-lion whose roar could shake the clouds, and Paradus the black panther faster than lightning itself—were hardly subtle companions.
They ran every morning to restrain their own overwhelming strength. But when all four moved together… the earth trembled. Trees bent. Wind howled. And any living creature caught in their path faced certain doom.
Amara only laughed, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed.
"Relax, Granny. Everything will be fine," she said, her grin wide and carefree. "Honestly, we don't have to worry about Elli at all. I just pray for the poor soul who ends up in the middle of their run."
Sister Florence looked completely baffled.
"Good fortune for the viewer? What does that even mean, child?"
Amara burst out laughing—the silly, chaotic, carefree laugh only she could manage.
"It means I hope that whoever sees them survives long enough to run back home!"
But beneath her humor, Amara knew the truth. She had seen Marcelline's real nature—how quickly that adorable little angelic smile could melt away, replaced by a demonic rage capable of breaking even the bravest soul. She had seen Marcelline's power twist from innocent warmth to merciless destruction in the blink of an eye.
Still… Sister Florence didn't know any of that.
To her, Elli was still the tiny child she once pulled from the ruins of a burning world—shaking, wounded, and terrified. The child who had clung to her finger with desperate innocence. The child who slept curled against her side, whispering prayers through tears.
In her eyes, Elli was still that fragile, sweet little girl who needed protection—not the unstoppable force she had grown into.
Sister Florence's voice trembled as she whispered,
"She's still my little girl… no matter what she becomes."
And for a moment, the chapel felt painfully, beautifully quiet—holding the weight of everything unspoken.
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