Tainted Love

Chapter Three: Answers

"Why are you not worried, High Priestess?!"

Azar merely stared back at the group of priests in her living room while the steam from her herbal team snaked in the air. "Why should I be?"

"It took the form of a black bird!" the man rambled. "You saw it, we all did!"

"I believe it is called a 'raven', dear priest," she coolly answered. "In case you've forgotten, that is her name. It would only seem fitting that her soul-self took the form that it did."

"That is not the point!" the priest protested exasperatedly. "It took the form of the creature of disharmony and malice! The symbol of death, High Priestess! It is an omen!"

"I think that you're being rather rash," Azar replied.

"And you're not being reasonable!"

"You question my logic, priest?" she asked icily, a trait that was uncharacteristic of the patient and saintly woman.

The priest's eyes widened and he suddenly looked apologetic. He took a step back with his head bowed low.

"Forgive us, High Priestess," an elder stepped away from the group. "As her mentors, we are only concerned."

She regained her composure and her eyes settled on him, silently encouraging him to continue speaking.

"I know how much you have come to love her like your own child," he began. "But even you cannot deny the fact that there is something very unsettling about Raven."

"She cannot help that."

"I know. We all do. But even though we have trained her to suppress that evil, nothing can change the fact that it dwells within her. The summoning at today's ceremony is proof of that."

"She summoned her soul-self perfectly. Not once did Raven lose control of her powers, you saw it yourselves."

"Yes, we did. But High Priestess, how much longer will she be able to restrain those powers?"

"What do you mean?"

"As you said, her summoning was flawless. However, her soul-self manifested into something malevolent. Something that is evil and that can very well consume her.

"Raven has proven to be a gifted child of the Temple of Azarath. She has control of her emotions, but for how long, High Priestess?"

Azar's eyes fell upon the table, not certain of how to answer.

"Can you honestly say Raven will always prevent herself from succumbing to her emotions, even in times of great distress? Can you say that you are certain that the evil that taints her soul will never be unleashed?

"High Priestess, have you even told her the truth yet?"

"No...I have not."

Her answer caused the priests to break out into murmurs. Even though they had served as Raven's mentors, they were still afraid of the pupil whom they themselves had taught. They, and the rest of Azarath, were too frightened of the girl, and they never took the chance to understand her. Not like Azar did.

"I have taught Raven everything I know," she said, the clarity of her voice rising over their murmurs. "She has spent every day meditating and perfecting her skills in order to restrain her emotions. You all fear what she is capable of, but you fail to notice what she has accomplished."

Neither of them protested; the words of their high priestess were final. Azar brought the mug to her lips and she felt the warm liquid gushing down her throat. After she was finished, she placed the mug down onto the table and looked confidently at the priests.

"Raven knows what will happen if she were ever to lose control over her emotions, and she has done everything in her power to prevent that from happening. And I have faith that she will continue to do so."

The conversation lingered in her mind. The priests were frightened of Raven, they always were, and their fears only grew after they witnessed her soul-self at the ceremony.

It was uncanny to even believe that a bunch of elders would be terrified of the same little girl that she found in the rubble of a broken home. The same girl who was holding her dead mother's hand, her face expressionless and her dark eyes blank.

But she was not little anymore. The supposed carefree world of childhood was lost to her. The feeble child she adopted was now the young woman of sixteen who was sitting across from her at the table.

And she knew that she wanted answers more than anything.

"Raven," she addressed her gently. "Are you sure that you are all right?"

She simply nodded. "They didn't hurt me."

No words could describe the relief Azar had felt when she saw Raven and the strange young man emerging from the dark forests. She had to restrain herself from embracing her, but nothing kept Azar from asking if she was all right or if she needed anything.

"Azar?"

She looked at the violet-haired girl, surprised at the hint of anxiety in her deep, monotone voice.

"Yes?"

"...those men...they looked like the ones who killed my mother."

Azar was silent for a moment, but she knew what her apprentice was heading. "Yes. They did."

"What do they want?" Raven questioned. "Why did they come after me?"

She almost dreaded the time that she would have to tell Raven the truth, but she knew it was inevitable. And of all people, Raven deserved to know.

"They are after you because of who you are, Raven."

Bewilderment swirled in her usually inexpressive eyes. "What...what do you mean?"

"A human woman, your mother, brought you into this world, Raven. But...the blood that runs through your veins is not that of just a human's."

Her eyes widened a bit, the traces of realization dawning a bit, but the bewilderment was still there.

"Then, what am I?"

Azar took a deep breath. She wished that she wouldn't have to tell her this. If it were up to her, Raven would never know, but she had to. She had to know who she was.

"You are half-demon, Raven."

Raven remained motionless, and gazed at Azar, which was a sign to encourage her to continue. Azar was not certain how she was feeling now that she knew she was not completely human. Apparently she had trained Raven so well that not even the new knowledge of being half-demon seemed to phase her.

But as much as she wished to believe that, Azar knew that it had affected Raven. It affected her, and will continue to do so, more than she would ever know.

"How?" she asked after a postponed silence.

"Your mother Arella ran away from her home when she was seventeen years old. Afterwards, she discovered what she believed to be a church, and its followers welcomed her as one of their own. However, unbeknownst to your mother, this 'church' was actually a cult of satanic worshippers with one goal in mind: to bring the Demon Lord Trigon to Earth."

Recognition crossed her features, and her lips parted slightly. Azar knew that Raven had read many books that mentioned the terrifying and horrendous acts of the demon Trigon, which was going to make this all the more difficult to tell her...

"The cult managed to bring Trigon to their dimension, but he had no power on Earth. It took great effort on both parts of the cult and himself to even open a portal. In order for his evil to manifest on Earth, he needed a link. He needed an heir.

"And so, Trigon appeared before your mother as a human man. He deceived her and brought her to his dimension, where she became his wife and he raped her."

Azar hated saying that particular word, but it was the truth. She observed the way Raven winced, but her eyes told her to continue.

"It was not until afterwards that he revealed to your mother what he truly was. Arella did not even have the slightest inkling that she offered herself as a bride to the Devil until she saw him. He cast her away from his dimension and back to Earth. When she returned, your mother was alone once again, and this time she was on the brink of suicide."

"...what stopped her?" the girl asked softly. "Why didn't she go through with it?"

"I believe it was because she could not bring herself to do it. Even knowing that she would someday conceive the child of Trigon, she could not take her own life. That would mean killing the unborn child inside of her. That would mean killing you, Raven."

Raven fell silent again, gazing at Azar attentively.

"Your mother settled outside of a small town and gave birth to you. She raised you until the day she was murdered."

Raven cast her eyes away from her mentor and to the table. There was no emotion in her eyes, no emotion on her face. If it had been anyone else in her apprentice's position, they would be in hysterics or utter denial.

But Raven did neither. There were no cries of disbelief. There were no lashing words of anger. Just silence.

"So...so my powers..." Raven finally began, "The reason why I have these powers is because...I'm a daughter of a demon?"

Azar said nothing, but nodded solemnly.

"Is that why you came to my mother that one day? Is that why you brought me to Azarath?"

"I sensed that some form of Trigon's malice dwelled on Earth, and I went to search for it. I ended up meeting your mother, and then I met you."

"Why didn't my mother go with you? Why didn't you take us both to Azarath before she was killed?"

"Your mother was hesitant, Raven, and with good reason. She raised you herself for eight years with the fear that one day someone would know what she did and they would come after you. I told her that I would give her time to think about beginning a new life with you in Azarath. Neither I nor your mother knew that she would be killed shortly after I spoke with her."

The empath took a moment to absorb the information, her seemingly expressionless eyes staring back at Azar.

"Raven, I am truly sorry that I did not tell you—"

"I'm dangerous, aren't I?"

The directness of her question halted Azar in mid-sentence.

"You and the elders trained me because of what I am," Raven continued. "My emotions are dangerous. That's why you taught me to suppress them."

Azar answered her with a nod. "Yes. Because of your origins, your powers are triggered by moments in which you experience strong emotion."

"So if I lost control of my emotions...he would be free?"

She would have given anything to not answer that, but she had to. Lying was not going to make the situation any better, and she could not do that to her apprentice.

"...yes. You must suppress all of your emotions in order to harness your powers. If your emotions were ever to overwhelm you, your father's evil will be unleashed."

The uneasy silence settled between them once again. Azar did not say anything else, for she felt that the girl had been told enough today.

Wordlessly, Raven stood from the table and turned away.

"Raven...?"

"I'll be in my room," she said monotonously, and left.

Azar watched her as she walked out of the living room to her chamber.

"You treat her horribly."

A foreign voice said from the entrance, eliminating any beliefs she had that she was alone.

"What are you talking about?" she asked almost crossly.

The young man stepped into the living room, his blue eyes scorning the priestess.

"I mean you and the priests. You treat her like she is a monster."

"We do no such thing," Azar stated firmly. "Do not judge what you have no knowledge of, outsider."

"I don't have to live in this place to know that those idiots fear her," he retorted. "I saw the terror in their eyes when I brought her back. I saw how they all avoided her. Just like they would if she truly were a monster."

Azar glared at him silently, keeping herself from losing her temper.

"She seems to hold you in the highest regards. It's such a shame that she can't even turn to you for comfort."

"You are wrong," she replied. "Raven is like a daughter to me—"

"And yet ultimately you see her the same way they do: as a threat. A threat to herself, and a threat to all of you. And what's worse is that you've forbidden her from ever experiencing any shred of emotion because you're afraid of what could happen to you—"

"I am afraid of what could happen to Raven!" Azar exclaimed. "You have no right to speak, you do not know anything about her!"

"On the contrary, sorceress," he coolly replied. "I know more about her than you could imagine."

The arrogance in his words made her almost livid, but she said nothing. She would not let this pompous youth get the better of her.

"When you took her from Earth, you taught her to restrain her emotions in fear of what could happen. It seems easy enough, doesn't it? All she has to do is be indifferent to everything, and it's like the evil inside of her never existed."

She regarded him in silence with a deep frown on her face, but he could not care less and only continued.

"But it's not that simple. Do you have any idea what you've done to her?"

The contempt in his blue eyes seemed to burn from underneath his long white bangs, and Azar felt as if they were boring holes into her.

"You've put her in a prison," he declared coldly. "She has to force herself to never feel anything for all your sakes."

He turned his back to her and walked towards the entrance again. "You all truly are fools. She cannot change who she is. No matter how much she tries to keep her emotions locked away, the reality is that she is still the child of a demon."

His footsteps were heavy on the floorboards as he was about to walk outside of the dwelling. He stopped at the entrance, and without looking back at the priestess, he spoke once more.

"Can she even cry?" he questioned. "Can she even allow herself to be happy? Or have you forced her to believe that even experiencing a fleeting moment of joy or sorrow is a sin?"

Azar was silent, and he chuckled callously.

"I thought so. I guess she can't even shed a tear without believing that it could put others at risk."

The priestess watched him as he left, the heavy steps of his polished greaves fading away while he walked. When she was certain that he was gone, her head sunk into the palms of her hands.

"My dear Raven," the words trickled from her lips. "What does Fate have in store for you?"

Mutilated bodies lied in a tangled heap. Limbs and bones were twisted in grotesque ways, and blood painted everything crimson. Some were decapitated, and their heads were placed on sharpened pikes like hideous decorations. The expressions of each face were distorted with pain and anguish that were unimaginable.

And standing above the appalling scene was the towering figure of a demon armed with a giant spear. His skin was a deep red, and long white hair fell to the small of his back. Four thin slits of gold served as his eyes, and she saw that they held no remorse or compassion.

Like all the other books, his eyes held only bloodlust and malevolence. The same eyes of gold looked at her from the open pages of the books that were scattered around her. After she talked with Azar, she felt an urge to look through her library. She knew that she wouldn't be able to find the answers she sought, but she had to look through them. How the confirmation that her father was indeed the most horrifying demon in all of existence was comforting was unknown to her, but she needed to leaf through the pages of her books. Right now, they were the only things that didn't hide secrets from her. Books couldn't lie, books couldn't hold back information from her. They were straightforward. They could never deceive her because they were created to be sincere. Books weren't like people.

It all made sense, though. Raven always knew that she wasn't normal by human standards, or any standards for that matter. She knew that she was different, but even she couldn't imagine that she was the daughter of a demon from another dimension.

Still, the fact that she possessed demonic blood would explain things. She was always aware that her emotions somehow triggered her powers, but the fact that she could become evil incarnate just from the slightest spark of emotion was new to her.

Who she was, or rather what she was, gave her mother enough reason to hide her in their home. It gave the priests reason to avoid her, it explained why Azar took her under her personal tutelage and taught her so much. She was the spawn of the Demon Lord Trigon. She held an evil that could wipe out humanity if she couldn't contain it.

After knowing all this, how could she possibly blame people for fearing her? How could she blame Azar for training her to imprison her own emotions? What would have Rorek thought...?

Her eyes lifted from the pages and stared off into space. She remembered how messy his mop of white hair always was, and how it always had a habit of hiding his gentle blue eyes if he didn't brush it away. His voice was always so kind, and she never found fear in his words or distrust in his eyes whenever he talked to her. Would he have been her friend if he had known what she was? Would he treat her with such compassion if he actually knew that she was Trigon's daughter?

In any case, there was no way Raven could know. The person that she thought was Rorek, the person she had foolishly hoped was her childhood friend, wasn't him at all. He was someone else. He was a stranger. Rorek was gone.

When he told her that he wasn't Rorek, she felt any shred of hope she had vanish. She could sense that this 'Malchior' wasn't Rorek either; his eyes were too calculating, and his voice was nothing like his. Malchior was an entirely different person, and as much as she didn't want to believe it, the one person who accepted her was gone.

She was childish to think that he had come for her. Azar was right, but Raven was too foolish to believe it. What good were emotions if they only caused her pain and irritation? The hopes that she held were pointless, and she would be lying if she said that she wasn't disappointed that the person she thought she knew turned out to be someone else.

But then how did Malchior find her? She knew that he was obviously a mage of some sort, but what could he possibly want? What compelled him to save her and bring her back to Azarath?

...his name sounded so familiar. For some reason, she felt that she had come across it somewhere before.

Her eyes went to the bookcase, and she stood up from the ground. She was certain that her books would once again provide her with the answers she needed.

He stepped into the living room to see that it was empty. Quietly, he closed the door behind him and carefully walked across the room. When he reached her door, he pressed his ear against the wooden surface. The silence on the other side encouraged him to enter, and he did.

He found her lying on the floor of the dark chamber. Books were messily scattered around her in which a four-eyed demon glared from each of their pages. A few candles provided her with light with their dying flames, but it seemed that they were no use to her now. She was asleep.

He approached her as soundlessly as he could and kneeled next to her sleeping form. Her head was resting on the pages of an open book. The illustration of what seemed to be a dragon peeked at him through the strands of violet hair that was sprawled on the page.

She moaned slightly and shifted uncomfortably on the floor, but she didn't wake. Gently, he picked her up and cradled her in his arms. She was very light, and he was able to place her onto her bed with ease. He pulled the blankets over her, and he couldn't help but feel compelled to watch her as she slept like he had done before.

His fingers traced her cheek as she slept. She looked so peaceful right now, and a part of him wished that she could always know that peace.

They all thought of her as a threat. They drilled it into her mind that her emotions were dangerous, that at least half of her was evil. Well, what would it matter? She couldn't help what she is, and she shouldn't be forbidden to feel anything just for the sakes of a bunch of cowards. If she wanted to be happy, if she wanted to be sad, that should be her right. It should be her choice, regardless what anyone said.

Despite everything he discovered about her, he wasn't afraid of her. He was surprised, however; he would have never imagined that the essence of the demon Trigon would lie dormant within the petite form of a young maiden. And he was certain that Rorek wouldn't have thought that, either.

But even if the boy knew, he would still want to protect her. He was sure of that. And Malchior would keep that promise. He didn't know what would make him actually stay true to his word, but he would do it. Perhaps it was because he pitied the boy.

Or perhaps there was something about this girl that made him want to protect her.

A murmur left her lips. He did not panic or leave her side. He simply stroked her hair and drank her lovely image as she slept.

"Sweet Raven...you do not have to worry. Regardless of who you are, I am here to protect you."

He was silent as he continued to watch her sleep. He did not leave until the feeble rays of the sun stretched across Azarath.

A/N:

WHEEEEE! Another chapter down, and so many others to go...ah well.

Here's some answers to some reviews!

Rhea Hiryuu: Lol, I enjoy our talks as well. Thanks for your reviews, I always love reading them. Don't worry, I'm sure my reports will be ok...or at least I'm sure they'll be passing grades.

Blackshield: I like ur reviews regardless whether they're short or not. The fact that you are reading this story is enough for me. I did enjoy writing about how Raven was healing Malchior, and don't worry. You'll know about the guys in the cloaks soon enough.

Kagomeandinuyasha4ever: Lol, I don't know if he's being perverted, but I'm glad that you think Malchior makes the story better. Thanks again for your enthusiasm, it always makes me smile.

Red Moon Kree: actually, I'm not positive how I'm gonna pull Rorek back into this, but I have an idea. Thanks for your feedback, and I hope to see The Paper Rose updated.

DITZY: Although I'm not absolutely positive on the spelling, I'm pretty sure that Malchior pronounces it 'Nole'. I mite be wrong, who knows. Anyway, thanks for reading, I really appreciate it.

Well, that's it for now. Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!