In a land forgotten by time, where the misty forests hid ancient ruins, there lived two souls destined to collide. One of them was Azrael, a demon marked by his pale, almost translucent skin, sharp horns, and glowing golden eyes that could pierce through the deepest shadows. Once a human, Azrael had been cursed into demonhood for a sin he no longer remembered, condemned to an eternity of torment and regret. 

The other was David, a human soldier with disheveled black hair, a rough beard, and azure eyes that seemed to carry the sorrow of countless battles. However, during a deadly ambush, he was gravely wounded and left for dead. But he did not die. He was found by Azrael, a demon feared as one of the fiercest warriors of his kind.  

Azrael didn’t know why he did it, but when he came across David in that blood-soaked forest, something within him stirred. Instead of finishing him off, he chose to save him. He carried the broken warrior to a secluded cabin hidden deep in the woods, far from the fighting lines.  

Days turned into weeks as Azrael tended to him, healing his wounds and keeping him alive. At first, David was distrustful, suspicious of why a demon would save a human. But over time, the animosity between them faded, replaced by curiosity and, eventually, something much deeper.  

Azrael, with his pale skin, was a being meant to inspire terror. Yet in him, David saw something else —a sadness that mirrored his own.  

“Why did you save me?” the human asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  

Azrael turned his gaze away, his golden eyes flickering with an emotion David couldn’t quite name.  

“Maybe... because I’m tired of all this war,” Azrael replied. “Or maybe because I saw something in you that reminded me of what I used to be.”  

One day, as Azrael rested under the shade of the trees, David approached him. Gently, he placed a hand on Azrael’ cheek, his golden eyes meeting the warrior's blue ones. “You remind me,” the demon said in a voice laced with melancholy, “of the man I once was. Before I became this.”

Azrael reached up, covering David's hand with his own, his fingers brushing against the smooth, cold skin of the demon. “And you remind me,” the human replied softly, “that there’s more to this world than hatred and vengeance.”

As the weeks passed, David uncovered fragments of Azrael’s story. The demon had endured centuries of pain and loss. Once a being of light, Azrael had loved and lost, the weight of those memories crushing him over time. David, too, carried his own grief—the loss of his family to the unending war. In Azrael, he found an unexpected connection, someone who understood his pain without the need for words.  

But their time was limited. Both of them knew that the demon lords would eventually find Azrael, and David could never return to the humans who would brand him a traitor for allying with an enemy.  

On their final night together, David took Azrael’s hands, his calloused fingers intertwining with the demon’s clawed ones.  

“If this is all we have,” David said, his voice trembling with emotion, “then I want you to know: you’re the only good thing that’s ever happened to me in this hell of a life.”  

Azrael looked at him, his stoic mask crumbling as he brushed a hand gently against David’ face.  

“And you, human, have reminded me of what it means to be more than just a monster.”  

That night, the inevitable happened. The demon lords’ soldiers arrived, breaking into their sanctuary. The human fought with everything he had to protect Azrael, but in the end, his wounds were too great. He fell, cradled in Azrael’s arms, his life fading like the last flicker of a dying flame.  

Azrael, too, was mortally wounded. Yet, as the soldiers descended upon him, he didn’t resist. His golden eyes locked with David’ one final time, and in that shared gaze, the world around them seemed to vanish.  

In those fleeting moments, there was no war, no hatred—only them. Two souls, bound by something greater than the worlds that sought to tear them apart.  

Though their story ended in tragedy, their love endured, a quiet but defiant flame that neither death nor darkness could extinguish.