They were all cursed—the taint flowed through their blood and made them terrible. She knew the stories about her blood line well, and it seemed it was as if some kind of god tossing a coin to see if a child would be great or mad. She had wished both, but she did not know how to pull the trigger and lose herself. Samael had shown her gruesome scenes—things that she could not be a part of. He had destroyed her and she was leaving an invisible trail of blood wherever she walked. She had once adored her uncle for the madness she had watched dance within eyes coloured in the hue of freshly drawn blood. Then he had turned on her and had turned real. She couldn’t get over it—how could she ever have wished to become something like that? How could she continue to long for it despite the deep self loathe that feasted away on her damaged soul?
The male’s words seemed innocent enough until the fatal name was spoken out loud. Crimson washed over her vision and made everything very blurry. It was that instant rage of hers that told her body to lift her arms and target him. Halo knew she was graceful when she danced with her sword or practised her combat skills, but there was no grace in her body as she threw herself at the stoned wolf. How could he say such a thing! Angry tears were suddenly running down her face in hot liquid streams and she resented herself for letting him catch her off guard. Fists flew against the man’s chest in badly coordinated, upset manner. "No!" She was not the monster here. How could Razekiel say such a thing?