More Human Than Demon

After the ceremony was over, Amara's focus was only on her grandmother's dead body. The elderly woman, who was determined to save Amara from the same fate, had never acknowledged that she was anything more than a homeless waif. But even with her grandmother's tireless attempts, Amara's life continued to be lonely and wrapped in seclusion.

A deep stillness descended upon the scene, drawing her attention away from the unburied body and toward the forest's inevitable claim. Just seconds before, words had been uttered, but their echo escaped her grasp. The silence became heavy with the weight of unspoken queries and accusations. "Teacher?" she asked in a quiet whisper.

The whispered response was, "I spoke in error," as the woman and the angel's anxiety increased. The instructor didn't say anything more, but those few words were enough to describe the change in the mood—a small crack that snatched the tranquility away from the occasion and made it seem more like a funeral than a celebration.

"You are also aware!" Finally, with a peculiar restraint in his voice, Soren declared. And did Annelore, the Matron, tell you? At the request of this creature? He waved a contemptuous hand at Gramor, and Amara frowned at the disdain for her friend, even though she was unable to deny the fundamental veracity of the charge.

Elyra remained mute as she avoided the angel's glaring gaze once more. However, Amara noticed a slight omission in her teacher's statement that suggested more. Could she still clear her cousin of the accusation that now hangs over her? Or would the effort just make things worse? Tricking an angel felt like an impossible task, but deceiving people was a common pastime.

Gramor's calm voice interrupted her before she could decide on a plan. With a tone softer than the implied bluntness, he counseled, "Hold your tongue." "This might end here, and we can let them sort out these complicated issues on their own. Such burdens are not appropriate for you or me.

Weary of the prolonged stillness, Soren moved forward with a purposeful query. "And you also knew that you hugged me that night?"

Amara reeled as the words hit her like a strong gust. She was certain that Gramor uttered a low, strange series of curses that were too faint to fully understand. A demon embracing an angel? By that, what did Soren mean? He didn't explain, but she could feel the truth in his words. Disapproval flashed inside her for a brief period toward the half-demon—a sensation she had never experienced before she remembered the humanity softening Elyra's wicked face.

She was aware that human blood frequently twisted angelic tendencies, and Elyra's ancestry leant more toward mankind than demonkind. This insight gave the previous evenings a harsh, sobering new perspective.

Then there was the unavoidable reality: Soren didn't realize Amara was the demon he was after. Would her human half be strong enough to overcome an angel's deep-rooted hatred of demons, even though it could reverberate more strongly in her veins?

Nevertheless, Elyra remained silent, which was more damaging than any admission. As she had stood next to Soren, standing over Annelore's body, she looked defeated again. She actually gave off the impression that she wished she could join her grandmother in the hereafter.

"Enough of this," Amara screamed, her words coming out of her mouth without warning or preparation. As though her weak human body could prevent an imminent conflict, she pushed herself between the two creatures. Her quivering eyes met the angel's piercing stare. "Matron Annelore, you've had your say. Allow Elyra to mourn. Your inquiries can wait.

It seemed as if a spell broke or a long-held breath finally came out. In Elyra's eyes, a glimmer of the cousin Amara used to know returned, reflected by the tenderness and compassion that had always characterized Soren. He appeared to be himself for a moment, and Amara held onto that shaky optimism, convinced that it was true. However, the moment passed as quickly as it had appeared.

"Yes." Slowly and softly, the phrase from Soren's lips like a sigh of grudging submission. "You're correct, witch-child. Not all situations call for questions with simple solutions, like mine do.

He looked at Elyra, who looked up at him this time, but her eyes remained downcast. There was a great sadness in his voice. "I apologize, lady. Every time we meet, it seems like you are doomed to misery from which I am unable to protect you. He hesitated, and Amara sensed the pressure of his silent conflict, caught between what he wanted to say and what he had to keep silent.

Finally, with hardly a breath in his voice, he murmured, "I do." "I wish I could keep you safe."

As though questioning her own hearing, Elyra's eyes sprung up, keen and inquisitive. However, Amara witnessed the truth revealed as her incredulity turned to understanding: the half-demon had a strong affection for the witch-girl.

Amara moved away from the two and closed her eyes to the weight of that realization. Something unfair, heavenly blood... The words were a painful refrain, and she thought, "Unfair thing, the blood of the damned."

Was she hearing her teacher's voice in her head? She almost dismissed the idea for a moment, as she had done so many times before. Instead, she turned to face him, longing for one chance for him to see her naked. She wanted to protect herself from the unadulterated pain of her own soul, which had been ripped apart repeatedly in a day that had only begun, and she wanted to understand the feelings swirling inside him.

With her fingertips brushing his, she whispered, "Teacher," in a low voice. "Give me your hand and let my thoughts rest." For the time being. There was a quiet respect in her voice, a nod to the trait she valued most in him, a power the near vampire had just displayed.