Author's Notes: You know since my summer break has started [it's going to be a 3 month long break!], I've been reading books and fanfiction non stop. I've been falling asleep dreaming of stories I've read and want to write. This is all because of course I have yet to find a job. It's stressful but reading and writing is my escape from thinking such things. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the re-edits of this story. I personally like it a lot better so I hope you do as well. Please, please, review because if you should know anything about writers is that reviews are the food to the soul.


How impossibly soft she was, he thought as he cradled her in his arms. The blood spills against his skin and the grit that had gathered upon her clothing became just another layer between them. She cries softly, twisting the rough starches of his dark clothing in her fingers. Against her back, the tips of his wings with their feathers glide across her skin like a whisper of wind pressing a kiss. The feeling makes her press herself closer; it makes her enclose her wings tighter. Maybe if she could entrap them in this ball of two bodies and pairs of wings, the gravity of all that they have just done couldn't penetrate them.

She looks at him. Such beautiful and impossibly blue eyes with hair that was like the color of the sunlight itself was marred by scars and blood trickling from his face and body. Her eyes drift over and a small feeling of contempt rises in her. How could his wings still be so purely white? After the war they have just fought, how could his wings still remain clean and shining like a beacon? He senses her feelings and rough hands, although she knows they are oh so capable of gentle touch, encased in leather cups her cheeks and pull her into a brief kiss.

The kiss is distracting and that is exactly what he wanted. She doesn't know that he had been looking at the same thing and feeling the same way. How could such a beautiful woman, with long black hair that framed an angelic face with ruby eyes glowing with life, have such dark wings? How could they repel such light that seemed to be at the core of the creature he holds? How was it possible that after all the things she's done still did not bring light to those dark wings? He feels contempt because his wings should be as marred as hers was. All the bloodshed and the fighting he has done is more than enough to warrant the black wings. So he kisses her, drowns in the feeling of her lips in a brief flood to drive the thoughts away.

They curl closer, lying in the starting pile of dust of their worlds, with his white wings covering their torso and her black wings hiding their legs. And they wait. They wait for the world to end and the pain to stop scorching.


As Zack watches the fight proceeds from his position at the top of the stadium, he can't help but think there isn't a single person in this world that could fight the way Cloud does. It is breathtaking the amount of strength he exerts from such a thin body, seemingly out of no where. The magic he draws out gives him and others tingles when they witness it. When they witness their prince fight, they know his opponent will fall. There is no doubt and in the battlefield, Cloud has their faith.

But off the battlefield, Zack knows that there is nothing but fear and contempt for their prince. They know that what makes him dangerous and successful on the battlefield is a threat to them off of it. Because when Cloud fights, he is under the spell of the demon in his mind. That demon is what makes him powerful but Zack has seen some occasions when Cloud tries to struggle to push the demon back.

Like he was now. Cloud's opponent was lying in a heap of broken limbs and blood while Cloud was standing five feet away with his large sword in his hand, struggling. To everyone else, it would only seem that their prince was angry. To the trained eye, however, his eyes were flickering between green and blue. Zack could see the wisps of the black magic wrapping itself around his friend's neck. A few blinks, and it was closing in on his windpipe. And Zack clings on to hope.

Cloud was shaking. He was screaming inside of his mind. He doesn't quite feel the sword in his hand and the way he clenches it tightly. Panting and struggling, he tried to push his way through the thick black fog surrounding him. He has to get to it! He has to!

The black whips around him, winds of high speed that slits at his body. When he sees the monster in his mind, he tackles it. He doesn't think. There is no time to think. Any moment lost means he'll lose. Cloud pushed it back into the darkness, shoves him deeply beneath his subconscious. Don't come out, don't come back!

He opens his eyes and the bright lights blinds him. He doesn't want to look at the blood on his sword and on the floor from the barely breathing body across from him. But he does and he knows he did it, even if he couldn't control himself when he fought him. His ears are ringing with the sound of screams and cheers from the audience. Cloud closes his eyes, focuses and pulls up the walls to protect his sanity again.

Cloud tries not to think as he walks out of the arena. Tries not to notice the sudden quietness of the crowd as he fades from their vision. When he is out of sight, it is like a light switch has been turned off. In the dark, secrets are free to flow.

"Such a deadly creature."

"He doesn't deserve his title."

"Why does the Queen even let him live?"

"Did you see him when he fought? Didn't even seem to show any emotion!"

"He was so close to killing a fellow angel."

"This is why he should've been born a demon!"

And he tries not to hear the whispers that carry through the wind meant to wound him.


The pulse of the man beneath her thumps pleasantly against the curve of her palm. Her mind is screaming at her and she tries to ignore it. She feels the stare of her two brothers at her back, a constant pressure to what she must do.

The next heartbeat of the man's life is his last. Her mind screams at her, it almost makes her dizzy. But she tosses her long black hair over her shoulder and she mentally pulls on the stoic face. Tifa turns around and her ruby red eyes meet her two brothers. Her eldest brother, Sephiroth's, with his long silver hair with striking blue green eyes, mouth curls into a smirk and his hands come together in a short clap. Vincent, her other older brother with his porcelain skin and long black hair with his darker red eyes, remains stoic.

"Good job sister. In no time, you will rid yourself of your pathetic soul." Sephiroth, The Demon King, says.

Tifa nods once to her brother and watches him take his leave. Mentally, her fists are clenching in anger. But despite her anger, his words ring true because the voice has stopped if only momentarily. Vincent approaches her a bit hesitantly. He stops to stand in front of her and asks if she is okay.

"I'm fine." Tifa grinds out but then softens her eyes slightly for a brief moment. Vincent nods in response and brushes his knuckles against her cheek in brotherly affection before taking his leave.

Two princes and one princess are the children of a Demon King and his half human and half demon wife. The eldest son, Sephiroth, was the most demonic. Sephiroth took in the Seven Sins at birth, marking him to become the next Demon King and telling his fate of killing his father to take the role. Vincent, the second son, was born mostly demonic with a torn up shred of a soul. His demonic self had basically eaten his soul and spat out the remnants of it. Still…a soul is a soul no matter how torn up it was. Lastly came the daughter, Tifa. She was as divided as her mother, half demon and the other half an intact soul.

To quell the voice of her soul, Tifa has been tormented to kill. As a child, she remembered being held closely by Vincent as she watched demons and men being slain. She remembered crying afterwards for many years because she couldn't stand the torment of her mind until she had been punished enough times to shut up.

Her mind constantly whispers: 'You could've done something! A life is gone because you didn't do anything! Their blood is on your hands!'

Growing up, Tifa became forced to kill. The stain of blood would be the strength of her demonic self, to kill the soul. Her parents had hoped that she would end up with something like what Vincent had, a torn up shredded soul in which the demonic state had almost all control of. Still, the throbbing of her soul only grew. She stopped crying and refusing. She had learned long ago to simply pretend that her soul had been eaten up and spat out. And finally, she was relieved of killing and watching death in its work.

That was until her eldest brother became the Demon King. He was reluctant to believe and often times sent her in the place of another demon to kill. He wanted to ensure that she was demon; he wanted to show the people that his sister was truly the Rose of the Black Moon. Tifa's fought and killed; and still her soul relents, pushing away the darker nature of her birth. Finally, Tifa has simply learned to bury her soul, to ignore it. She hoped that if it remained buried, it would rot inside of her.

If it would only rot inside of her, she would be free of the horrid chains that tied her. She was the Demon Princess, sister to the Demon King. Despite the fact that Sephiroth and Vincent was cold and would kill without much of a thought, they loved her. Being the Demon Princess and the loved sister of both the king and the prince, forced all beings of the Underworld to respect her. They had to bow to her and fulfill any orders she gave out. Still, they whispered against her and more than once had she been plotted against.

Still, her mind shouts inside of her.. 'Just let me be. Let me see who I am and not what you force me to be.'

A tormented demon with a soul, without the desire to kill. And no matter how many souls of humans she takes and how many demons she's slain, the people whisper against her. She's held life in her hands and crushed in between her fingers. She's thrown people in the pits of fires that lead them to Oblivion. She's fought her opponents and those who have tried to hurt her.

'Fight and kill! It will be the only way to kill your soul!' The voices of her parents scolding her from memories belonging to her childhood.

And still, no matter what she does and what lengths of protection Vincent and Sephiroth offer, the people whisper against her. She was supposed to be Rose of the Black Moon as the princess of the Underworld. Yet no one addresses her so despite the fact that she has earned the title with her conquests. And still she will never seek out the pleasure of killing anything or anyone. She does it because it is necessary, an order. But she never devours the souls and never seems to enjoy it. This is what marks her from being a strange demon.

"Such a waste of power."

"Why does the King not kill her? She defies all rules of the Underworld and still she lives!"

"Such glorious powers being restrained. Pathetic. I could be in her role and enjoy it."

'She should've been an angel!'