161. Fear for a reason
The fear did not come from rumor.
It came from memory.
Every clan leader—Demon, Beast, Vampire, Dragon, Werewolf—remembered her.
Not as Marcelline.
But as the forbidden mistake.
Long before Shadowline.
Long before Godmother's public authority.
Before Marcelline ever learned to smile like a devil or love like an angel—
She was never meant to exist.
---
When Marcelline was secretly training—guided by her Beast brothers and Amara—no clan detected her presence.
Not demons.
Not angels.
Not even the High Tables.
Yet somehow…
Godmother felt it.
A disturbance too precise to ignore.
Because Marcelline was something the universe itself had forbidden.
A hybrid of angel and demon.
A concept erased from history.
A bloodline annihilated by law.
The last time such a being existed—
It triggered a war so violent it did not earn the title war.
It became a blood ocean.
Divine clans versus demon hordes.
Cities erased.
Realms collapsed.
The land itself soaked in screams.
And when it ended, the law was absolute:
> No hybrid shall ever live.
So when whispers reached the Godmother—
Not proof.
Not sightings.
Just instinct—
She ordered Marcelline seized.
Not publicly.
Silently.
---
No parents were found.
No demon lineage.
No angelic bloodline.
Only one truth emerged after brutal investigation:
She had been raised by humans.
Already dead.
Burned away as "evidence."
---
The punishment was decided in a single negotiation.
Cold. Efficient.
Marcelline — execution.
Sister Florence — execution.
Amara & the Beast Brothers — eternal imprisonment for treason and concealment.
An example.
A warning to existence itself.
---
Marcelline woke up in a cage.
Iron thicker than castle walls.
Seals layered over seals—ancient magic designed to break gods.
Her wrists and ankles were bound with chains so heavy she couldn't lift her hands.
Blood soaked her clothes—her own.
She had fought.
Hard.
Desperately.
The air reeked of death.
Not fresh.
Ancient.
She realized where she was.
The battlefield.
The land where the massacre war had ended centuries ago.
The ground still screamed.
Souls clung to the air like fog.
On one side—
Divine elders stood in ceremonial armor, faces tight with disgust and shame.
On the other—
Demon lords watched with predatory hunger, eyes burning with rage.
She was placed between them.
Seventeen.
Injured.
Shaking.
Confused.
---
A divine assistant stepped forward, voice echoing coldly:
> "Hybrid angel, your birth is a disgrace to divine order.
You violate the ancient enmity between heaven and hell."
A demon lord's assistant mirrored the sentence:
> "Your existence mocks demon law.
You are an error that must be erased."
Marcelline tried to speak.
Her throat locked.
She looked for Florence.
For Amara.
For her brothers.
They weren't there.
Her breath hitched.
Fear finally bloomed.
She was still a girl.
Still learning what she was.
---
Then the torture began.
Magic crushed her lungs.
Pain tore through her nerves like fire.
She screamed.
Cried.
Begged.
Her voice shattered against indifferent faces.
The cage absorbed her agony.
Each spell tore something invisible from her—not flesh, but will.
Time blurred.
Pain became endless.
And then—
Through blood-blurred vision—
She saw it.
Across the battlefield.
Bound.
Broken.
Sister Florence.
Chains biting into her wrists.
Still trying to smile at Marcelline.
Still trying to mouth:
"It's okay."
That sight—
That single moment—
Erased fear.
And replaced it with something else.
Something ancient.
Something lethal.
And that…
Was the day Marcelline stopped being just a girl.
---
Author's Note:
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter 🤍..
I truly hope you're enjoying the story so far and connecting with the journey. Your comments, votes, and support mean more to me than you can imagine—they genuinely motivate me to keep going. Don't forget to share your thoughts below, and stay tuned for more upcoming chapters.
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