--Blood Angel--
Chapter I: The Beauty of a Flower
"Never had I viewed a flower with as much desire as I had that day. When you have been stripped of all you held dear, any beauty is enough to consume you."
-From the Journal of Aluraune
Mael laid still, his breath slow and labored. He ached from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head, with searing pain burning the center of his back. He already knew from whence that pain came from, for he knew that his wings were not there as they should be. He kept his eyes shut tight, dreading to look upon where he had been thrown. For the moment, he merely was listening in on his surroundings, trying to get a grasp on where he was. Overhead, he could hear the light, musical twittering of birds as they flew by. He could also barely recognize a soft breeze rustling the leaves overhead, so he decided he must be in some kind of forest. A little further off, he heard the gentle murmur of water. Well, I suppose it could have been worse, he thought to himself. With a grunt, he rolled onto his stomach, gritting his teeth against the searing pain that shot through his body at moving so quickly. With a mental effort, he forced his eyes open. Filling his whole view was a small, delicate looking flower. Its petals were of a very deep red, darker than a rose, and its stem was of a vivid green. Beneath the bulb, blackish thorns stuck out, with thread-like vines creeping out to the ground, their ends curling upwards at their tips. On a few of the petals were splotches of icy blue, shimmering just like teardrops. Mael had seen something like this, but he knew that this was not of the human world. It was a flower only found in his home. "Aluraune," he breathed, and stretched his fingers out towards it. Suddenly, a sharp tingling began in his nose. His fingers receded, and he tilted his head up, sniffing at the air. He smelt a strong, heady scent, sweet, but unlike the scent of flowers or forest plants. It smelt…familiar, but not as strong as the last time he remembered. As he continued inhaling, the pain in his body seemed to null. All his fatigue seemed to fade away, and all that mattered was the smell. He pushed himself off the rocky floor onto his knees, closing his eyes, listening. A little ways off he could hear the soft step of feet, the steady breathing of something. The smell was closer now, stronger, and Mael's heart began to race. By the time he was aware of himself, he was in a crouch, his hands braced on the floor, and a growl was rumbling in his throat. A face emerged
from the trees before him, that of a young man, barely over teenage years. He had a bag slung over his shoulders, and was covered in dirt and pine needles. When he spotted Mael in the forest clearing, he stopped in his tracks. The time it took Mael to launch himself onto the man, pin him to the floor, and tear into his neck could be measured in heartbeats. Every nerve in his body screamed to stop, to not kill this innocent being, but his mind was filled with the thought of blood. The taste, the feel, and the way he took it. His hunger controlled him, and his conscience was useless. He kneeled, bent over the man's neck, drinking deeply, his mouth dripping with overflowing blood. But his eyes overflowed with tears. His hands jerked fiercely, and his legs strained to move, but his mouth was like a steel vice, keeping him locked in place. When he had finally sated himself, Mael stood, panting, his body shaking in horror. He looked down at the pale, drained corpse and shuddered. What have I done? I am an Angel! I swore to protect the humans, not…this! He stepped back, slowly, his eyes never leaving the man. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the flower, the Aluraune. He knelt beside it, his eyes taking it all in. A deadly beauty, he knew, for despite its looks, the petals would slowly kill any creature that ate one or took any part of it into the skin. The thorns did the same. A bite from one of the blacking growths and your blood would be poisoned, and the death would be torturously slow. He cradled the bulb in his hands, and silently, he cried. His tears blended with the blue designs of the petals, until they looked one and the same. The beauty of this single flower is so false, never revealing the true danger beneath. A rose of Heaven, sent here to earth to captivate their eyes. Soon enough, it will reproduce, and spread its evil grace wide. Mael knew only too well how this small thing must feel. He put his head down. No. I am no longer an Angel. I have been banished, disgraced. I must take on a new identity to live this new life. He looked at the flower again, and he knew who he would be. "Aluraune," he breathed again. "I am Aluraune."