Echo is a Demon. His kind is tasked with killing. Lumi is an angel; a protector. What happens when they are both sent to the same person?
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PART 1. A HUMAN, A DEMON, AND AN ANGEL.
Angels share names in the Safe Temple. Some mean "light", some "guardians", some "peace"; and yet with this three single words, you can find so many variations. Lumi –short for Luminous–, belongs to the first bunch; her closest friend, Agnar, to the second. This three origins represent what all angels are; or at least, what they should be. That's their task, the reason of their existence. While demons only know of death and destruction, angels are beings of light; encharged of protecting those who deserve them and preserving the fragile peace in Coruss. It's not an easy task.
Lumi was five when she achieved her first rune. She was an early starter; most angels began their trainning at eight, and only the Great Angels had shown signs of their powers before such age. But Luminous had always been very persistent, perhaps almost a bit too headstrong for an angel; and her compassion and empathy had always been her greatest motivators. There had been someone who needed help; and so, five-year-old Lumi had furrowed her brow and studied the Old Books for months, trying to understand the laws of magic until she could create the rune and perform her spell. It hadn't been anything overly complicated. Just something to lift a humans spirit, make his toll a little less heavy; but it had pointed out her potencial, and decades later, Lumi had carved so many more runes in her skin she barely had any space left to spare.
That's how their magic work. You create the conections, the runes; then you sew them into your skin. Lumi's are almost a sparkling gold against her light brown tone; forming figures and criss-crossing with each other as they climb from her toes all the way up to her neck. When she uses them, they shine with a golden hue; a soft glow hugging her ethereal figure, iluminating her wings like a flash of energy. Ah, yes of course; angels do have wings. Not made out of feathers, not like a hard shell like most human believe them to be; but fragile and very thin, their strength residing in moving fast and agile more than serving as a shield. For that, angels conjure their own protective barriers; Lumi being an expert at that.
The thing about angels is that they can't voluntarily harm another being; no matter if the person in question is the most cruel they have come across or if it is one of the thousends of monsters that roam through Coruss. Their magic is only supposed to heal, to protect, to save; and so it is limited to producing shields, redirecting attacks, and blinding their enemies. Any sort of rune one can create that is meant to difuse and desescalate the situation rather than end it. The down-side to that is that those cruel beings are left alive to cause chaos another day; but well, that's not exactly an angels problem. That's what demons are for; why they exist.
If things in life often come in pairs and opossites, demons are angels perfect counterparts. They can't create, can't heal, can't bring light to someones life and make it better; they're just the final executioner, death dressed under millions of identical haunted faces, capes made of darkness, and weapons designed to not only kill, but hurt in the way. They don't posess their kind of magic. By design, demons are physically stronger, faster, more resistant; and their strength resides in those abilities along their use of the shadows and an endless list of weapons infused in various kinds of venoms and mysteries of the Underworld.
Lumi has only interacted with a demon twice; enough to make her blood ice cold and wish for the experience to not become a habit. Angels are able to sense other people emotions, aura, souls; they feed on those. The two demons Luminous happened to come across possesed such an angry rage, such an unforgiving cruelty, such darkness, that the angel could feel them crawling silently towards her like invisible fingers reaching towards her throat. She had felt crushed, almost suffocated by their presence; as for where darkness exist light can't, and viceversa.
Lost in thought, Luminous makes her way through the Safe Temple. It has been a while since the Great Angels summoned her to give her a new task. There's a kind of hierarchy between angels, even though no one dares to brag about it; they all have the same purpose, form part of the same comunity. It's just a matter of ability, really; some angels are more powerfull than others, and so they're usually reserved for more delicate, difficult missions, while the rest are sent on small everyday assignments. Everyone plays their part; and keep a delicate balance in two of the three Coruss's realms.
Lumi isn't extraordinarily powerfull. Not like the Great Angels, at least; but she is somewhat admired by her peers, having acomplished already so much by her short age. For an angel's life-span, her hundred-and-one years alive barely pulls her out of the naivety of adolescense; while at the same time, her mindset has matured and grown so much in the last decade she almost feels like a different being. Lumi is definitely not a teenager anymore; but a young spirit with her skin covered in golden runes and a fierce disposition rarely found in their kind. She almost feels excited at the possibility of a new task.
The young angel flies through the stairs of the Safe Temple; following the memorised path through the impecably white marble corridors towards the Great Salon. A guard nods towards her in a form of greeting; and seconds later, Luminous is standing in the middle of the room and being the center of attention of the five Great Angels. From left to right, sitting down on golden puffs, she quickly acknowdleges Plo Koon, Shaak Ti, Kit Fisto, Yoda, and Mace Windu; the first and last having formed part of Lumi's training. She awaits patiently for orders.
The silence in the Great Salon stretches long enough that Lumi begins to feel its weight settle across her shoulders. Lumi has never been particularly fond of waiting in silence. Her golden runes hum faintly, an unconscious reaction to her pulse quickening, and she clasps her hands together to keep them from glowing too bright. It was a problem she often had when she was a child.
It is Yoda who finally speaks.
“Too long without a mision, you have been, Luminous. Another path for you now, there is.” His voice is even, but his gaze carries something sharper—concern, perhaps, or warning.
Shaak Ti leans forward, her scarlet headdress catching the pale light. “There is one among the humans who has drawn the eyes of both realms. A scholar by the name of Anakin. He works without knowing what his hands create. He will change much, for better or worse, and we can't leave him without aid.”
Kit Fisto adds with a tilt of his head, “He is under threat. A number of dark spirits already circle him, drawn by what he carries. You will go to him, Luminous, and you will protect him.”
The young angel straightens. She's ready to get back to the field, to do some hard and rewarding work. She can take it.
“Yes, Great Angels.”
Windu raises a hand before she can bow. His dark eyes pin her in place. “You will not be the only one sent.”
For a fraction of a second, the room feels colder. Lumi doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. The Great Angels’ silence explains more than their words do. She doesn’t need to ask the question forming in her chest.
Still, it is Plo Koon -his first mentor- who confirms it, his voice low behind his mask. His patience and calmness has always been extraordinary, even within angels. You had always admired that from him.
“An Arc-demon walks the same path. His task mirrors yours, though his methods will not. He will try to eliminate Anakin, leave no risk at chance. But the human can still be saved. We trust you to give him a second chance.”
The golden runes along Lumi’s arms spark faintly at the thought. She remembers the suffocating rage that had crawled over her skin the last time she felt a demon near, how the shadows themselves seemed to whisper of violence. And yet she cannot help the flare of something else—curiosity, perhaps, beneath the dread.
The narrow alleyway was dimly lit, the walls of the surrounding buildings rising high on either side, trapping the pale light of the distant streetlamps above. The air was thick with the smell of wet stone, the distant hum of a city that never quite quieted. If one listened closely enough, one could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation floating down from the apartment above—the space where Anakin lived with his two friends, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. For the moment, all was calm.
But the calm was deceptive.
In the shadows of the alley, two figures faced one another, separated by only a few feet of cold, damp pavement. The first was Lumi, her wings wrapped tightly against her back, her luminous skin glowing faintly in the dim light. She stood still, her posture tense but graceful, her wide, gold eyes scanning her surroundings—ever watchful, ever aware of the danger that was about to unfold.
Before her stood Echo. The demon’s form was nearly a silhouette in the alley’s darkness, a tall figure cloaked in shadows, his crimson eyes gleaming from within the dark void of his hood. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and though the alley was small, it felt as though the very space between them had grown far larger in his wake.
"You’re late," Echo’s voice cut through the silence, rich with dark amusement and barely contained menace. The words fell from his lips like poison, thick with a biting edge.
Lumi didn’t move, not even to acknowledge the insult. She had no need to. She had a purpose—one far greater than engaging in mindless banter.
"I’m not here to fight you," she said, her voice steady, each word deliberate. "I’m here to protect him."
The demon let out a low chuckle, one that resonated in the narrow space between them, bouncing off the cold stone walls.
"Protect him? A lost cause?" His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his boots scraping against the gravel beneath him, sending a shiver through the air. "You’re wasting your time, Angel."
Lumi’s expression remained unshaken. She shifted slightly, instinctively placing herself between Echo and the narrow doorway to the apartment building just beyond, where Anakin remained momentarily safe with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.
"You don’t understand," she replied quietly, but firmly. "Anakin’s not lost. He has darkness in him, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s beyond saving."
Echo’s lip curled into a half-smile, though the expression was far from kind.
"You angels always think you can save everyone," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "But you’re deluded, Angel. You think your light can save him, but it won’t. The darkness in him… it’s already too deep. It’s been festering for years. He’s mine to deal with. You have no place here."
Lumi flared her wings slightly, the light from their soft, ethereal glow casting faint shadows on the alley’s walls.
"You’re wrong. I’m here to protect him," she said, her voice unwavering. "I won’t let you get to him."
For a brief moment, the demon said nothing. The quiet between them stretched on, thick and heavy with the weight of their conflict. The distant sound of footsteps from above echoed down the alley as Obi-Wan and Ahsoka moved about in their shared apartment, unaware of the dark encounter unfolding just beneath them. Humans were so fragile...
Then, slowly, Echo raised his hand, his fingers curled into a loose fist. The shadows around him seemed to bend, darkening the alley further, thickening with every passing second. The air felt colder, more suffocating.
"You really think you can stop me, don’t you?" he asked, his voice lowering to a deadly whisper as he took another step forward. His red eyes burned with an unspoken promise of destruction. "I’ve been tracking him for days. His darkness is my domain. I’ve already claimed him, whether you believe it or not. And if you stand in my way, I’ll destroy you too."
Lumi’s heart raced at his words, but she refused to be intimidated. She was an angel, and her purpose was clear. She would protect him.
"You can’t claim what doesn’t belong to you," she replied, her voice unwavering. "Anakin is not yours to take."
For a long moment, the demon's gaze remained fixed on her. A strange stillness filled the air between them. The tension was thick—both of them standing firm, unwilling to give an inch.
Finally, Echo let out a low chuckle.
"You won’t stop me," he said, his tone turning cold again. "You’ll regret standing in my way."
Lumi stood tall, unyielding, her golden eyes fixed on his.
"We’ll see," she said, her voice calm but resolute. "Perhaps it'll be you the one to regret it."
Echo’s gaze was firm, unwavering, as he studied her closely, sensing the intensity in her stance. He was trying to break her, to force her to back off, but the angel didn’t flinch. Her emotions were bubbling inside of her, a mixture of anger, frustration, and a growing sense of something deeper—something that wasn’t going to be shaken.
His lips curled into a cold, almost amused smile as he took a small step closer, his eyes narrowing.
"Mm. Can’t remember seeing a furious angel before," he mused, his voice low and teasing. "Are you sure you’re not a fallen one, pretty angel? Wouldn’t surprise me to see one of yours failing to do their task again. More work for me, huh?"
Lumi’s eyes flashed with shock, the words cutting deeper than she expected. She was momentarily stunned by the weight of what he’d implied, but it was enough to send her temper flaring. Her teeth clenched, and she snapped back, the words tumbling out with more force than she intended.
"There are different types of protectiveness," she shot back, her voice sharp and full of defiance. "We’re not all the same like you fucking demon clones. And you wouldn’t have more work to do if you didn’t attribute ours."
Echo’s expression shifted, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’ll be back for this one, Angel," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "We'll see each other again."
Without another word, the demon turned, disappearing into the shadows from which he’d emerged, his presence leaving the air thick with his dark energy.
Lumi stood still for a long moment, the silence swallowing the alley as she watched him vanish. Her wings slowly folded in against her back, the light dimming just slightly. She let out a breath, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. The encounter had shaken her more than she cared to admit.
The space between her and Anakin—just a few floors above—felt impossibly vast now, and the burden of her task weighed heavily on her. But she wasn’t going to back down. She would stop the demon from hurting him.
Anakin hadn’t slept since that night. The dreams hadn’t stopped, only sharpened—visions of ash and feathers, of burning eyes and cold hands reaching for him in the dark. Even in waking hours, something stalked just outside his perception. He’d stopped mentioning it to Obi-Wan or Ahsoka. What could he even say? That something was hunting him? He didn’t believe it himself.
But Lumi did.
She stayed close now, never fully revealing herself, but always there. An unseen warmth that hovered at the edge of his consciousness—a gentle shield whenever his thoughts turned too dark. She walked rooftops in silence, her light dimmed to avoid drawing attention. Her eyes never left him. Not since the alley.
And she knew he was watching too. Echo.
He hadn’t made another approach, but she could feel him—like the chill left by a storm cloud creeping across the sky. The demon’s presence lingered. He was patient. Calculating. Waiting for her guard to drop, for Anakin to break. She couldn’t let that happen.
And yet, every night it was a game of shadows. Anakin tossing in his bed. Lumi, posted just beyond his window ledge, wings wrapped tight. And somewhere below, Echo—lurking, watching, biding.
Until the attack came.
It started as a tremor.
Lumi felt it before she saw it—a rippling, unnatural energy pulsing through the city like a distant heartbeat. She turned sharply toward the alley behind the apartment, narrowing her eyes. Something was coming.
A heartbeat later, the monster revealed itself—tall, sinewy, more smoke than flesh, its form shifting like ink underwater. Its eyes glowed the color of dried blood, and its mouth stretched open in a silent, impossible scream. It was hunting. And it had found him.
Lumi dropped from the rooftop like a blade of light, hitting the pavement hard. Her wings flared, throwing up a barrier just as the creature lunged at Anakin’s window.
The beast collided with her shield, snarling as it twisted in the air. It slashed at the barrier again and again, each impact echoing like a bell toll. Lumi gritted her teeth, golden runes glowing as she fought to hold the line.
“Stay back!” she hissed, light lashing out from her fingertips, trying to push the thing away.
But it was relentless. The creature didn’t stop. It slammed against her shield —and again—and again. Each hit chipped away at her shield.
Lumi grit her teeth and pushed forward, wings flaring again, this time unleashing a burst of radiant force that sent the Rak’hir tumbling into the alley wall.
Her breathing was ragged now. Her energy was draining fast.
The beast recovered faster than she expected.
It came at her again—its limbs blurring, claws slashing. Lumi blocked the first, dodged the second, but the third caught her across the ribs, tearing fabric and drawing blood.
She cried out but didn’t fall. She staggered back, summoned a sharp flash of light to stun the monster, then launched a forceful pulse that cracked the pavement beneath it.
It wasn’t enough.
The Rak’hir shrieked and slammed her back against the wall. Her right wing crumpled against the stones. She coughed, gasped—but still pushed forward, raising a trembling hand to summon another shield.
Her light flickered. Fear —one she hadn't felt in a lifetime, swallowed her. Was this going to be her end?
Just as the creature reared for a final strike—
He appeared.
A spear of shadow sliced through the air, hitting the beast square in the side and slamming it into the floor.
Echo stepped from the shadows like death itself. His red eyes burned.
He was all sharp lines and dark energy, his cloak moving like smoke around him. He didn’t look at Lumi—he didn’t need to. His entire focus was on the Rak’hir.
"You shouldn’t be here," he growled to the creature, voice low and lethal.
The Rak’hir roared in response, but it was already backing away.
Echo advanced.
The shadows around him twisted and thickened, forming jagged weapons, chains, and dark spikes that slashed through the alley with precision. The Rak’hir fought back, shrieking and thrashing, warping its body to avoid his attacks.
Lumi, still breathing hard, forced herself upright. She didn’t trust the demon —not fully— but she wasn’t going to let him fight it alone.
With what strength she had left, she lifted her arms and threw out a shimmering arc of protective light toward Echo, catching one of the beast’s stray limbs before it could hit him.
He didn’t glance back—but he felt it. And for a moment, their movements synced.
Lumi sent bursts of golden force between his strikes, shielding his exposed side with radiant barriers when the beast moved too fast. Echo, in turn, drove the monster back with vicious blows—each one drawing more smoke, more shrieks, more darkness.
They moved together—light and shadow, clashing and complementing, two forces never meant to coexist, fighting as one.
Lumi’s energy was nearly gone. Her vision blurred at the edges, but she kept going. She unleashed a final blinding flare directly into the creature’s many eyes. It screamed—stunned for just long enough.
Echo seized the opening.
He leapt high, shadows coiling around his arms like armor, and slammed down with the force of a collapsing void. The creature buckled, then shattered into smoke and ash. It dissipated quickly; the darkness then inmediately reabsorbed.
The alley fell silent.
Lumi exhaled shakily, the effort of maintaining her stance draining the last of her strength. Her legs finally gave out beneath her. She collapsed to the ground, knees hitting first, then hands, then nothing at all.
Her glow dimmed. Blood ran freely from the gash at her side.
Echo turned, breathing heavily, his face pale and drawn—but still standing. He walked to her and knelt slowly.
She was still conscious—barely. Her eyes met his, cloudy with pain.
“You protected me” he murmured, almost to himself. “You protected a demon.”
Her eyes fluttered, barely open.
“I can’t help someone who can’t be saved,” she breathed, just a whisper now. “I guess… there’s good inside you, too.”
And with that, her body went still.
Echo sat there for a long moment, his hand hovering inches above her cheek. Then he reached out—trembling slightly—and brushed her skin with the back of his fingers. More curious than confused, more admiration than hate.
Soft. Warm. Still alive.
He clenched his jaw, stood, and lifted her into his arms.
He didn’t know what he was doing. Only that he couldn’t leave her to die there.
Echo’s grip on Lumi was firm but gentle, carrying her unconscious form through the winding paths of his realm. Shadows clung to the jagged spires and twisting streets like living smoke, eyes glinting from the darkness as if every corner held a watcher. The air was thick, heavy with heat and the faint scent of brimstone. Every step was a reminder that they were far from the world the angel knew—a place where their counterparts belonged.
“You can’t be serious,” hissed a familiar voice behind him. Fives stepped forward, eyes blazing with distrust. “You’re bringing an angel here? Into our world?”
Echo’s jaw tightened, his eyes sharp and unyielding. “She’s been wounded by a Rak’hir. This is the only place where I can attempt to draw out the darkness he inflicted in her safely.”
Tension sparked in the air. Fives sighed, still thinking this was not the best course of action and wondering why his brother was risking it all for someone who probably despised him and their kin.
“…if Palpatine finds out, we’re all dead.”
Echo’s jaw clenched, his darkness pulsing around him.
“Then he’ll never know.” His words were calm, but the weight behind them made the air tremble.
Without another word, he carried Lumi through an imposing archway and into a chamber hidden deep within the twisting labyrinth of his home. The faint glow of molten rock traced intricate, alien patterns across the floor. It was beautiful in a terrifying way.
Echo laid the unconscious angel down carefully on the dark, cushioned bed in the center of the room. Hours passed in silence, save for the faint hum of the demon realm beyond. Lumi’s eyelids fluttered occasionally, but her injuries and exhaustion kept her in a deep, dreamless sleep. Outside, the demons prawled and whispered, but inside this room, a fragile bubble of quiet held her.
When she finally stirred, a gasp tore from her throat. Her eyes opened to darkness softened by the dim glow of the chamber. Shadows danced along the walls, casting strange, shifting shapes that made her heart pound. Slowly, panic crept in as realization settled over her: she was an angel—alone—in the demon realm.
Every muscle ached, both of her wings trembled. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her breaths shallow. She swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed. Her heart pounded in her ears—not just from exhaustion, but from the reality of where she was. Her mind raced, imagining what could be waiting just beyond the room, in the vast, shadowed halls. She tried to steady herself.
Echo was there, kneeling beside her, eyes dark and unreadable but holding a strange, steady calm.
“You’re safe, Angel” he said softly, perhaps sensing her fear, his voice low and measured. “But I need you to stay here. Do not leave this room.”
Her gaze flitted around, and then back to him. Why am I here? Can I trust him? Or has he trapped me? Is he planning something else? Each thought collided with the memory of the pain she had endured outside, and the undeniable reality that he had saved her.
The demon's hands hovered above her, careful not to touch unless necessary. His jaw was tight, emotions pressed down, contained. He had to leave soon—there was work he could not ignore—but he could not leave her unprotected.
“Stay inside. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone” he ordered, firm but not unkind. “Just rest until I get back”.
Lumi nodded, fear and caution warring with the fragile thread of trust she felt toward him. Her body was weak, her wings ached, but she did not move from the bed. She watched as he stepped back, jaw clenched, eyes flicking once toward her before he vanished into the shadows.
Alone, the weight of the demon realm pressed in on her. The walls seemed to breathe, the shadows whispering secrets she could not understand. Fear, doubt, and a strange flicker of gratitude swirled inside her. Did he bring me here just because I helped him? Is he trying to pay me back? Why did he even step in against the monster in the first place? Why not... Let it kill me, then kill Anakin himself? What does he want from me?
Every sense was heightened—the faint heat from the walls, the low hum of energy in the air, the darkness around her. And yet, even in that terror, a part of her recognized something… protective. Something that told her she might survive this place. But survival, she realized, came at the cost of trust—and she was not sure if she was ready to trust him.
The door shut with a low thud, sealing Echo’s presence out of the room. For a long moment, Lumi sat frozen, staring at the carved patterns on the stone as though they might shift again and reveal some hidden threat.
Silence pressed down on her, thick and heavy. Only the low hum of the walls remained, a deep vibration she felt in her bones. Her golden runes ached faintly on her skin, the faintest flicker of light tracing across them—like her body was fighting the foreign shadows still coursing inside her.
He told me to stay. To rest.
Her chest tightened. Her instinct screamed at her to move, to run, to find light again. But what good would it do? She was in the heart of the demon realm. Even if she escaped the room, there were corridors filled with shadows, millions of demons breathing the same air. They would notice her immediately—her wings, her light, her very soul would betray her.
Her hands trembled as she pulled her knees to her chest, wings wrapping around herself like a cocoon. “Why here?” she whispered into the dimness. “Why did he bring me here?”
The question gnawed at her. Every angel had been taught demons were merciless—executioners designed to kill. But Echo… Had looked at her differently. Not with hunger, not with scorn, but with something closer to… resolve. Determination. Maybe even a flicker of concern.
Her pulse quickened at the thought, and she shook her head sharply. No. He’s a demon. They can’t care. They can’t…
Still, the memory of his voice lingered—steady, low, almost grounding. The protective stance and grip on her. That truth—the posibiliy of demon's being more than the evil tales she had always heard, unsettled her almost more than the shadows themselves.
Minutes crawled by, the voices outside fading. She sagged back onto the bed, trembling, the weight of her fear pressing down like a mountain.
She hated it. The fear. The helplessness. She was an angel—she was supposed to be a guardian, a shield. Yet here she was, hiding in the dark, depending on a demon. Was Anakin even okay?
Her thoughts tangled, a storm of contradiction. He brought me here to save me. He’s the reason I’m breathing. But if he wanted to hurt me, he couldn’t have chosen a crueler prison.
Hours crept by in silence. Lumi had no way of telling time here; there was no sun, no familiar rhythm of light and shadow, only the constant hum of the walls and the faint glow of her own runes whenever she lost focus on suppressing them.
She shifted on the bed, wincing at the dull ache in her side where the monster’s venom lingered. Echo had patched her wound, but she felt weak still. It would probably take a few days of rest to feel okay.
Her gaze wandered around the room, hesitant at first, then with growing curiosity. She had expected the living space of a demon to be cold, barren, perhaps littered with weapons or bones. Instead, the chamber felt… personal.
The walls were carved stone, yes, but smoothed with care, lined with shelves. On them rested small things: trinkets of dark metal, strange stones that pulsed with a muted glow—Lumi didn't think it served any purpose other than purely decorational, scrolls tied neatly with black cord. There was a blade propped in the corner, its edge etched with runes she didn’t recognize, yet it wasn’t displayed like a trophy—more like a tool set aside after use.
Her eyes caught on something stranger still. A strip of parchment pinned above the desk, covered in handwriting. Notes, sketches… diagrams of runes. Demon runes. The sight made her breath hitch. Their scripts weren’t supposed to resemble hers, yet here—though rougher, sharper—she saw patterns that mirrored angelic wards. Almost like Echo had been… studying.
Her fingers itched to trace them, but she forced herself still. Don’t. Don’t touch. Don’t even think it.
She tore her gaze away, focusing on the bed again. Her wings curled tighter around her as the unease in her chest grew. Every angel was taught the same truth: demons had no desire for knowledge, only destruction. Yet Echo’s room whispered of order, of restraint, of someone who did not entirely fit the mold she had been warned about. Of someone who wanted more than what had been first assigned to him.
That contradiction unsettled her more than anything.
Another faint noise drifted through the walls—a heavy step, a muffled growl, voices speaking in low tones. She swallowed hard, remaining in complete silence—almost holding off her breathing, until the sound—the danger, passed.
Lumi exhaled and layed back down on the bed. The room was suffocating, both prison and sanctuary. And she was caught in between—fear gnawing at her, mistrust anchoring her down, yet curiosity and hope creeping in, slow and dangerous like the shadows themselves.
The door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the walls. Lumi flinched, her breath catching as she sat upright on the bed. Echo stepped in, shadows trailing after him like smoke, his chest heaving with the rough rhythm of someone who had just been fighting—or killing. His black clothes were streaked with dark stains, and his hands trembled faintly, curling into fists as though he hadn’t yet come down from the surge of battle.
For a moment he didn’t even look at her, only braced his palms against the table as though the wood was the only thing keeping him upright. Then his eyes snapped to her, sharp and cutting.
“I see you actually stayed,” he said flatly, voice rough, lined with exhaustion.
Lumi swallowed. Her runes itched faintly under her skin, glowing soft gold in response to her unease. “You told me to,” she answered, steady but quiet, cautious.
Echo gave a humorless snort, shaking his head. “I wasn't sure if you'd listen. After all, angels have been ignoring demons for lifetimes.”
The words stung, and a part of her wanted to bite the bait and protest, but she forced herself to push past them. She studied him, the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders twitched like he was still braced for a fight.
“What kind of work leaves you like this?” she asked carefully, nodding toward the stains on his long-sleeved shirt, the restless edge to his movements. “You escaped mostly untouched from the Rak'hir, and that's a powerfull dark spirit. What can possibly...?”
His gaze flicked to her, dangerous now, like she had stepped over a line. “Rak'hirs, powerfull spirits?” he laughed, dry and humourless, his facial expresions hardening instantly. “They're a playground compared to some of the monsters that roam human realm. The evil and darkness we can't kill in time can group and transform into really terrifying things. Anakin's will for sure, it's already begging to be released from that tiny fragile human body.”
The angel ignored the pun, still reluctant to believe what the demon claimed. She had seen light in the young man herself and she just knew he could be saved.
Echo turned away as if to put distance between them.
Luminous pressed on, her voice firmer this time. She was tired of wondering. She wanted answers. “Why did you help me, then? It doesn't make sense. You could’ve left me to die. You'd have free way for Anakin then. Isn’t that what a demon’s supposed to do?”
For a long moment, silence thickened in the small room. Echo’s back was to her, broad and unmoving, but she could see his hands clenching tighter, shadows curling around his wrists like they were drawn to his anger. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, almost bitter:
“Don’t mistake this for kindness.” He turned just enough that his dark red eyes found hers, gleaming faintly in the gloom. “I didn’t save you for your sake. I did it because…” His jaw tightened, the words strangled before they could leave. “…Because letting that poison win would’ve been worse.”
The edge in his voice was sharp enough to cut, and Lumi felt a tremor run down her spine. Standing there now, shadows whispering at his heels and anger radiating from every movement, Echo looked every bit the demon her kind had warned her about.
When he stepped forward toward her, she had to fight the impulse to back up on the bed. The demon's expresion looked murderous; barely controlled enough to hide his hunger to kill. Lumi was suddenly reminded of how vulnerable she was here; not recovered enough to use her runes at her full potential and surrounded by demons who would have no remorse to kill her.
“You don't even know how a Rak'hir's venom works, do you?” he lowered himself down so he was sitting in the edge of the bed, so close Lumi could feel the expanding cold of the shadows playing around him. “The venom it inflicts is the real reason why one should be carefull with that monster. It's not the fact that it can kill you; it's that it will turn anything it infects with part of his soul, evil and darkness that will consume everything until the possibly kind creature you once were is no longer there.”
He was so close to her face now, his features so alive with that burning anger, that Lumi couldn't try to look anywhere else. She was almost mesmerised by his danger.
Echo showed her a tiny, cruel smirk.
“There's a little lie your dear Great Angels have been telling you since your soul was sharpened into form, Luminous. Because at the beginning of the three realms, demons weren't born simultaneously to angels, oh no. Palpatine, the Demon King, was once an angel too, just like Yoda or any of the other Great ones; and it was a hoard of Rak'hir who changed him, poisoned him with centuries of evilness and darkness until no light remained. Until the first Demon was shaped into humanoid form.”
At the shocked expresion of the pretty angel's face, Echo chuckled, finally backing away and standing at the feet of the bed, letting her breathe in the new space. Adrenaline still pounded through his veins, and he made an effort to keep his emotions at bay.
“You can take a read about the actual truth of our origins if you like, Angel” he pointed to one of the shelves pressed against the stone wall and fake smiled “Top shelve, it's the third one to the left.”
The demon dissapeared into the bathroom.
Lumi read, and her world tilted on it's edge again.
Luminous sat cross-legged on Echo’s floor, the book open in her lap, its pages smelling faintly of dust and old ink. She traced the letters with her finger, though her mind wasn’t really on the words—it was on what they revealed.
The origins of demons. According to the book, the first demon had once been an angel, radiant and whole, until a horde of rak’hirs twisted it into something dark, something vengeful, feeding on his light for decades until it extinguished. Everything about it—the anger, the cruelty, the relentless hunger—was the product of that torment. Palpatine had then used a human woman to propagate that same corruption, creating the first generations of demon clones.
Lumi’s chest tightened. She had read it all, absorbed the details, but her mind kept circling back to the same questions. Why had the Great Angels hidden this truth from them? Was it to keep them from fearing monsters, to make them fight without hesitation, without the fear of ending like demons? Or was it… worse? To keep them from feeling? From seeing demons as beings capable of inflicting more than pain or death, from having compassion, from understanding them?
She left the book on it's shelve again and layed down on the demon's bed, gaze fixed on the stone ceiling above her. When Echo came out of the shower, he was quiet too; the anger he had felt before seemingly having dissipated with the blood and sweat.
Lumi’s fingers tightened around the edge of the bed. She wanted to speak, to test the waters, but every word felt heavy, laden with more than just apology. She was still confused, too; too many thoughts and changes to process.
Finally, when Echo settled beside her on the bed, both of them silent, Lumi let her voice slip out, tentative, almost fragile.
“Echo… I’m sorry.”
Echo turned slightly to look at her. His expression was unreadable for a long moment, just the faintest crease between his brows.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “For what happened. Or for… anything you can’t control. I might have over reacted with the adrenaline I still carried from the outside.”
Lumi’s chest tightened further, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to tell him everything—the doubts, the fear, the sorrow for the first demon, about how maybe, just maybe, they could create the first angel/demon alliance—but she didn’t know if she could put it into words. Not yet.
“I just…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers twisted in the edge of the blanket. “…I don’t know how to feel about all of it. About them. About what the angels hid, if that book holds the truth. About… You. And everything.”
Echo shifted slightly closer, the movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. Enough to let her know he was there, not judging, not pressing, just… present.
“You'll figure it out,” he murmured. “One step at a time.”
Lumi’s lips twitched, a faint, tentative smile breaking through. She let herself lean just a little, her shoulder brushing his. The heaviness in her chest didn’t vanish, but it felt… lighter. Shared.
The Safe Temple seemed like a distant memory now. Days had passed since the Rak’hir’s venom had torn through Lumi’s veins, leaving her trembling and hollow, her light flickering like a candle in the wind. She was improving—her glow had steadied, the pain had ebbed—but Echo had warned her time and again: the darkness still nested inside her, buried deep where her runes could not reach. To remove it too soon would be reckless, he said. If done wrong, the extraction could shatter her soul, corrupt her light, or worse—leave her somewhere in between, neither angel nor demon, lost in an endless void.
And so she waited, healing slowly under the unspoken truce of his protection. She did not belong here, in the Demon Realm, but Echo had hidden her well. For now.
That night, she heard him before she saw him.
The door burst open with a slam, shaking the room’s frame. Echo strode inside, his steps heavy, his presence darker than usual. His eyes burned with that unsettling shade of red, wild with leftover adrenaline, and his skin was streaked with blood—some his own, some not. An unstelling painting of red and black.
Lumi froze, not knowing what to do about it.
Echo didn’t look at her. Didn’t say a word. He went straight for the bathroom. Another slam, sharper than the first. She heard the rush of the tap, water running then cut short, the harsh thud of fabric angrily hitting the floor, the creak of pipes as the shower roared to life.
Then silence.
No— not silence. The muted thump of his head hitting the tile. Then two smaller ones, perhaps his clenched fists resting against the shower walls too. Water pounding down, drowning everything except the steady ache in her chest. It was just in her being the need to comfort and help; and she had never done a good job at ignoring the chance to do so.
Lumi sat there, hands tangled in her lap, the book she had been reading now abandoned in the bed, her wings pressed tightly to her back. She wanted to ask, wanted to whisper through the door if he was alright—but fear and caution kept her quiet. If she interrupted him, reminded him that she was technically an enemy... Would he snap back?
Minutes passed, only the hiss of water and the echo of her own heartbeat filling the air. She was on her way to standing up, bare feet brushing the cold stone floor, when the shower cut off. Her breath caught.
The door opened, steam curling out into the room like smoke. Echo stepped into the dim light, bare-chested, only a pair of dark pants clinging to his frame. Droplets of water still ran down his skin, tracing lines between scars—scars upon scars, old ones faded into silver and pink, newer ones raw and red, layered over his chest, his arms, his sides. Battle written into his body like scripture.
Lumi gasped before she could stop herself. Not loud, but enough for the demon to hear her. A sound of shock, of pain that wasn’t hers but might as well have been. He looked... Broken, and yet, so very much alive.
Echo’s gaze flicked to her. Just for a heartbeat; as if he had suddenly remembered he had brought an angel to his own very room in Demon Realm. He scanned her, quick, sharp, making sure she was unharmed—then turned away as if it meant nothing. He crossed the room, shoulders heavy, movements rigid, and collapsed onto the bed beside her.
“Night" he muttered flatly, already rolling to face the wall and not the concerned, anxious expresion on her face. With a flick of his hand, the light went out, plunging the room into quiet shadow.
But Lumi still glowed. Not brightly—just a soft, fragile shimmer, her runes humming faintly against her skin. She lay still, watching the broad expanse of his back.
That was when she saw them for the first time.
Runes. But not like hers—hers flowed in elegant curves, gold threaded with light, each mark crafted with nurturing purpose. His were jagged, sharp, carved deep into his flesh as though angrily torn rather than carefully drawn. Dark purple, crisscrossing one another, their sharpness biting into his skin even in stillness. Not quite similar to the ones she had seen on the parchment on his desk before; those looked somewhere in between.
She stared, her breath shallow, a thousand thoughts colliding in her mind. Questions. Wonder. A quiet ache she didn’t want to name.
He carried scars she couldn’t even begin to count. He was a demon. And yet, sleeping there in the same bed—he just felt like a man. A tired, and troubled man.
He had fought monsters she couldn't even begin to name and still he slept with his back turned, as if imaginary walls between them were safer than facing the worry in her face.
She wanted to ask him. Wanted to whisper his name into the silence, to bridge the endless distance of the few inches between their bodies.
But when she parted her lips, no sound came out.
Because what would she even say? I’m sorry for your scars? Do you want to talk? I don’t know why I don’t hate you? None of it seemed right. None of it felt safe.
So she stayed quiet. His name lingered on her tongue, heavy as a prayer she couldn’t admit she wanted to make.
The exhausted demon soon fell to the tempting, numbing comfort of sleep; but Lumi layed there, glowing faintly in the dark, unable to tear her eyes of the demon's back. A map of purple runes and scars.
The days pass in a strange rhythm. Small conversations here and there, brief moments when silence feels almost companionable. Lumi is healing—slowly, her light returning, though Echo insists it isn’t time yet.
“You won’t stay here forever, you know that, right?” he says one evening, voice quiet, steady, while she fusses with the thin blanket over her lap.
Her anxious glance softens.
“You’ll just need a week more or two, probably” Echo continues, eyes sliding away, “and you’ll be safe to go.”
A warm, genuine smile spreads across her lips. “Thank you, Echo.”
He only gives a short nod, already turning away to implant his imaginary wall. “Good night, angel.”
Another night comes. Luminous waits, watching the door, hours dragging with no sign of the demon returning. Trapped inside this room, Echo is her anchor to sanity. The only thing to entertain herself with beside his collection of books -which Lumi had already gone through half of the shelves-. Her anxiety grows heavier with each minute. A difficult mission? A fight? Has someone discovered her? What if—
The door finally creaks open.
Echo stumbles in, dark eyes dimmer than usual. His chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. He looks seconds away from unconsciousness; the worst shape the angel had ever seen him in.
“Echo—! What-what happened?” Lumi rushes forward, reaching him just before he collapses against the wall.
He groans, stumbling forward with her pannicked aid and fumbling for the small med kit in the bathroom. “Crassar… spines… Need—need you to pull them out.”
Echo winces when he takes his soaked shirt off. Lumi's eyes widen, horrified at the sight of jagged dark spines lodged deep into his side and shoulder. Realisation hits her and she whispers in doubt “…That’ll rip part of your skin off.”
His hands shake as he forces the kit open, jaw clenched. “I-I know. Don’t care. If they stay, they’ll rot the tissue—infect it, then sink into my blood vessels. The longer we wait, the worse it’ll get. I need you to take them out.”
Lumi hesitates. This will hurt like hell. It'll be... bloody. Almost like torture. But he needs it. It's... a different brand of help than the one she is used to offer, but help nonetheless. And she has always had a backbone for tough things.
Her voice steadies, firm with quiet resolve. “Okay. Turn around and sit down. Put a towel in your mouth.”
Echo obeys with a grunt, lowering himself to the floor in front of her. He shoves a folded towel between his teeth, body tense and ready for pain.
Lumi readies the tweezers, her own hands shaking as she steadies the jar for the spines. Her breath hitches. And then, in contradiction- “Breathe.”
He inhales, and the angel grips the first spine. She takes a second to center herself. Then, with a sharp pull, it tears free -at the cost of some of Echo's mostly superficial skin.
A muffled cry is released against the towel, Echo’s entire frame shaking involuntarily with the pain. His fists clench, knuckles white. Eyelids shut holding back tears.
Lumi blinks back her own, swallowing hard. She doesn’t stop. She can't, even if she wants to. She swallows down, and one by one, she extracts the spines, the sound of tearing flesh filling the small room. Each whimper that escapes him cuts through her chest, but she pushes on.
“I’m sorry” she whispers, again and again, words like a prayer as her eyes brim. “I’m sorry, Echo… just a little more.”
Finally, the last spine clatters into the jar. Echo is shaking, drenched in sweat and trails of blood, breath ragged.
Lumi sets the tools aside quickly, scooping balm from the medkit into her hands. She spreads it carefully over the wounds, then closes her eyes, voice trembling as she murmurs healing runes under her breath. The faint glow of her light seeps into his skin, calming the burn, slowing the bleeding. Numbing the pain.
His body sags with exhaustion and desperately needed relief, half-conscious.
“Let’s help you to bed now, Echo,” she says softly, guiding him with steady arms outside of the bathroom.
He stumbles but lets her lead him. His lips twitch into something like a broken smile. “M’filthy. Going to stain everything.”
A breathless laugh escapes her, wet with relief. “We’ll survive. You need rest more than you need to look immaculately menacing, you know.”
She settles him onto the bed. As she tucks the blanket around him, he turns his head, eyes half-lidded but sharp enough to catch the shine of a tear sliding down her cheek.
“…Why are you crying, little angel?”
Her lips tremble into a smile. She kneels beside him, brushing his damp forehead, her touch feather-light with care. “I might be growing fond of you, Echo... You’re not all bad. You scare me sometimes—all that hate and coldness inside you. But… there’s also a quiet kindness. A warmth you seem to be oh so persistent to hide.”
The demon's eyes flicker, unreadable. They don't look as terrifying as she once thought they did. “…You’ve stayed too long down here. It’s evidently affecting your judgment.”
Her smile softens further, her thumb tracing gently across his temple. “Mm. Better not tell anyone, then. Sleep, Echo.”
He exhales slowly, the fight finally draining from his body, and lets himself fall into unconsciousness.
Lumi stays at his side, her hand still resting in his hair. Her thoughts swirl—dangerous, forbidden, but undeniable. Something is changing. In him. In her. The line between them blurring, impossible to ignore. If she's getting lost, she's not sure she wants to be found.
Echo came and went, sometimes returning whole, sometimes wounded, always carrying with him the heavy air of battles Lumi could only imagine. Yet in between, in the quiet of his room, something fragile began to form.
Amicable respect. Tentative conversation.
Lumi noticed first. The way his skin seemed less ashen than when she’d first woken in his world, the cold cast to him softening as though warmth was returning where once there had been only frost. Sometimes, when he didn’t think she was watching, the tension in his shoulders eased, as if the presence of another being —even an angel, a supposed enemy— dulled some unseen weight.
It began with small questions.
Her: “Do you… have dreams?”
Him, after a pause: “Not of things remotely realistic.”
Then his, equally hesitant: “What’s your realm like?”
Her smile, faint but true: “Endless. Bright. Warm.”
They shared fragments — shards of memory, of places neither could visit in their own on the other’s realm without tearing the world in half. And though their words were careful, veiled, each answer laid a stone on a bridge neither had intended to build.
Yet beneath Echo’s quiet voice, beneath this growing, temptative friendship, his thoughts churned.
He should not enjoy this. Not her laughter, soft though it was. Not her gaze, gentle even when wary. Angels were hypocrites draped in light. They had abandoned demons to claw through centuries of blood and evilness alone. Where angels refused to strike, demons bore the burden — slaying men too cruel to let live, monsters and spirits too vile to deserve mercy. They did the work angels deemed themselves too holy to touch.
And for that, demons were called evil. Condemned. Forsaken.
Echo knew this truth as surely as he knew the scars carved into his flesh. Hatred had guided him, sharpened him, kept him standing when all else threatened to break.
But now…
Lumi’s presence unraveled him in ways he hadn’t thought possible.
When she asked about his battles, he wanted to tell her. When she looked at him without fear — or worse, with pity — he wanted to shake her, to remind her that he was born of darkness, that her kind had no right to see anything else. That each of them had their own side of the balance to keep. And yet, when her hand brushed his once by accident, when her light seemed to warm the air itself, something in him tightened, something old and restless and dangerous. Something he barely remembered feeling from when he was a child and had first felt at the sight of his twin, Fives.
She should be his enemy.
Instead, she was becoming a tether.
At night, when she dozed beside him, he found himself often shifting from his usual resting position on his side to stare at her, replaying her words in his head. “You’re not all bad… there’s also a quiet kindness, and warmth.”
Kindness. Warmth. Words meant for another –for angels–, not for him. And yet they burrowed deep, defying the very hatred that had defined his existence.
He hated her for it.
And at the same time, he wasn’t sure what he’d do without it. Those words... Were the hope for Echo's very unrealistic dreams. For the mix of purple and golden runes that were scribbled on the parchments on his desks; the ones he had secretly being working on for decades. His hope.
The days bled into nights, and nights into more of that strange rhythm they had fallen into. Lumi felt herself healing — her ribs no longer screamed every time she moved, her glow had grown steadier, but there was something off. Subtle at first. Her laugh sometimes rang a little sharper than intended, her patience was thinner, and she caught herself feeling surges of irritation that weren’t… her. Her warmth flickered, like a candle threatened by a constant draft.
She didn’t say it aloud, but Echo knew. He had been watching closely — too closely. He saw the way her light faltered in odd pulses, the faint tremors beneath her skin. He knew that poison. He knew it like his own blood.
One evening, after another long day where he had returned battered and she had patched him up in silence, he didn’t lay down right away. He stood at the edge of the room, eyes unreadable, jaw set hard as if bracing himself for a storm.
“It’s time,” he finally said. His voice was low, rough, almost reluctant.
Lumi curled up in the blankets, blinked at him. “Time for what?”
His eyes, dark and endless, flicked toward her ribcage, to the hidden wound beneath. “For me to take it out. The darkness. If we wait longer, it’ll root too deep. It’ll change you.”
Her breath caught. She had felt it. That shadow that didn’t belong to her. Her hand instinctively touched her ribs, as if she could stop the poison from invading her with that. “What happens if you don’t?” she whispered, though part of her didn’t want the answer.
“You’ll turn,” Echo said bluntly, voice like stone. But something flickered in his gaze — something fragile and dangerous. “You won’t be you anymore. You’ll… belong here. With us. With me.”
The words tasted wrong on his tongue. Temptation laced every syllable. The thought of her falling — of her light burning out and becoming dark like his — had haunted him these nights. A part of him wanted it. Wanted her bound to his realm forever, no angel watching, no heaven to claim her. Just him. Just them.
But that wouldn’t be Lumi. Not the Lumi who smiled despite fear, not the Lumi who touched his scars like they weren’t something vile. Not the Lumi with endless compasion and empathy. If she turned, she’d be gone. Her smiles wouldn't be warm, but cold. Her delicate expresions would churn with the burning rage of hate an anger.
He clenched his jaw, fighting the quiet ache that settled in his chest. He couldn't let the voice inside of him that screamed and begged to let the poison take it's route win.
When he crossed the room, his steps were heavy, his aura bristling with restrained power. Lumi’s heart raced, unsure if it was fear or something else. Unbeknowns to him, a similar trace of thoughts swarm inside of her own mind.
He knelt beside her, and rested a hand over the scar that marked her ribs.
“This will hurt,” he warned.
She nodded faintly, searching his face. “I trust you”.
That cracked something inside him.
His fingers pressed into her skin, his power seeping through. She gasped — not eaxctly in pain, but in shock at the pull. It was like icy chains ripping out roots that had latched into her very soul. The venom twisted, screamed, resisted. Lumi’s back arched, breath trembling as shadows coiled out of her, threads of darkness drawn to Echo’s hand.
He absorbed them all. Every drop. Every thorn of venom that had tried to corrupt her, he dragged into himself. And the moment it touched him, he felt it — the sweetest intoxication. A rush of power and something more dangerous, like tasting stolen light mingled with the familiar poison of his kind. It was bliss. It was ruin. It was hers. And it burned.
He gritted his teeth, forcing the pain down. He shoved what the Rak'hir had inflicted her with deep, locking it away inside the endless cavern of his own darkness.
Lumi slumped back against the pillows, drenched in sweat, chest heaving. The wound at her ribs stopped throbbing — it felt clean again. A weight she hadn't even noticed at first suddenly lifted from her spirit. She was safe.
Echo pulled his hands back, trembling, a faint purple haze flickering across his runes as he whispered hoarsely, “It’s done.”
When she looked at him, she didn’t see just a demon. She saw someone who had just given up the very thing his kind thrived on, just so she could stay herself.
Lumi’s heart ached, swelled, overflowed. She reached for him, her hand delicate against the rough line of his strong jaw.
“Thank you” she answered in a heartfelt whisper.
Lumi knew how hard that must have been to him. Not just the physical aspect of that extraction; but the will to do so. To not let the dangerous thoughts win. To let her keep being herself; even if it would make things more difficult to him.
For a long moment, Echo only stared, caught between resignment and a raw ache that felt like a wound. He had only felt that towards Fives before; love.
“Let's get some sleep in” he murmured quietly, the moment vulnerable. “I think we both need it.”
Echo didn't show Lumi his back that night. They slept face to face; staring silently at each other until sleep came.
The night was heavy, almost liquid in its stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of movement outside. Shadows coiled and shifted in the room, thin tendrils of darkness twisting like smoke in the angel's soft light. Echo trembled in his sleep, fingers clenching the sheets, lips parting in quiet whimpers. A shiver ran down his spine, subtle but unmistakable.
Lumi’s eyes snapped open. Her heart pounded, skin prickling with fear, yet instinct drove her forward. She leapt over him, hands outstretched, and felt the first touch of the darkness—a cold, biting sensation—scrape against her fingertips. Reflexively, she radiated warmth, fingers brushing over his shoulders, a shield that pushed against the black tide.
“Echo! Echo!” Her voice cracked like glass, a sharp contrast to the hissing shadows. Breath quick, lungs tight, she pressed her body over his, knees brushing against the mattress. The darkness recoiled, curling around her like a living thing, pushing and snapping, growing angry—but she held her ground, palms pressed to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding erratically beneath her touch.
He stirred, gasping awake, chest rising sharply. His eyes opened, a swirl of red and brown flecked with gold, and met hers. His lips quivered as he exhaled, warm air brushing her cheek. He understood the situation inmedietly.
“Angel…” his voice was softer than she had ever heard it. “Angel, stop. It’s okay.”
“Okay? It's trying to get to you!” she replied in panic. She doubled her efforts and pushed back forcibly at the black shadows trying to surpass her shield. “I won’t let it!”
He lifted a hand, fingertips brushing her wrist, gentle and grounding. Tilting her chin down, he met her gaze with a patience that made her chest ache. “…It’s my darkness,” he explained in a whisper, low and almost sorrowful, the vibration of his voice resonating against her skin. “The evil I’ve conquered through all my life. Each victory... The weight grows heavier. Sometimes at night… it leaks out. To let this physical body rest. To breathe. During the day, I trap it back inside.”
Her chest tightened, lungs stuttering in overwhelming understanding. She felt it—the pressure of years, centuries, compressed around him, and how much he bore alone. She traced her fingers over his jaw, feeling the subtle warmth under her touch, and her thumb grazed a faint tremor at his temple. His skin was warm, his pulse rapid, and the soft sheen of sweat at his collarbone made her ache to soothe him.
“Echo…” she whispered, voice breaking, a few tears running down her cheeks quietly. Her forehead rested against his, and she felt his breath fan across her cheek, slow and deliberate.
He smiled softly, a ghost of light in the shadow of his burden. He almost looked like an angel like this; warm, soft, eyes traced with gold. This is what Echo could have been if he hadn't been forced to play demon, trapping all that darkness inside of him.
“It’s okay. Let go, Lumi. It’ll be fine.”
Her shields dissolved completely, surrendering to the truth of him. She collapsed against him fully, chest pressing to chest, limbs entangling, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat through every inch of her body. Fingers dug into his shoulders, and she wished she could lift even a fraction of the darkness that weighed him down.
The shadows and darkness filtered around her and rushed inside of the demon again, quietening and relaxing inside of his body. His eyes darkened to red again, his skin colder.
“I love you, Echo,” she whispered, voice wet with tears, lips brushing the curve of his jaw.
“You… you what?”
A shaky laugh slipped past her lips, damp with tears. “I love you,” she repeated, firmer now, letting the words sink into the space between them.
His chest tightened painfully. “You… can’t. You’re an angel, and I… We can’t be.”
“It's what I feel,” she murmured simply, closing the last fraction of distance before he backed away.
Their lips met—soft, tentative at first, then deeper, warmer. She felt the tiny heat of his lips against hers, the press of his colder body under hers, his hands tracing the line of her spine, anchoring her in place.
“There is darkness and light in all of us, Echo. Perhaps… this is how we coexist. Perhaps we can love like this.”
He stared, marveling, hand cupping her jaw, thumbs brushing against the curve of her cheekbone. His other hand rested lightly on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body against his. The shadows within him stirred, a living storm, but her presence held them at bay, their chaotic energy rippling against her skin but contained.
“I’ve been trying… to change things.” he finally confessed. Hope rising inside of him. “Learning from angels, their shields, their power… I’ve been creating runes, combining both demon and angel elements. You’ve… seen the parchments on my desk. Maybe…”
Her lips curved softly against his, wet and warm, brushing his jaw as her hands traced the gentle strength of his shoulders and back. “I’ll help you. Perhaps we misunderstood each other all along. Maybe we can work together instead of fighting. After all… our goal is the same: to control the darkness. We'll find a new method.”
He exhaled slowly, muscles relaxing fractionally under her touch. “It'll be hard. Neither of our sides will be supportive. It won’t be easy…”
She pressed her nose softly against his, the warmth of her breath seeping into his skin. “I’ve always liked my life a little complicated. I’m willing to try, if you are.”
His eyes lingered on hers, heart clenching, pupils dark. Finally, he whispered, “Yeah… yes. I am.”
They kissed again, slowly, deliberately, every brush of lips, every press of their bodies against each other magnified. His hands slid from her jaw down her back, spine arching under his touch, while hers threaded through his hair, pressing him closer. The shadows inside him shifted, writhing—but the warmth of her heart, her pulse, her very life pressed into his chest, made it bearable, even soothing.
Darkness rattled inside of the demon's body while he lost himself in the safety and warmth of the angels soul. She was there, steady, luminous, unafraid. Her tiny warmth flooding the cold, and he let himself be held, safe, for the first time in centuries.
Angel's and demon's had once had the same origin, long time ago; perhaps they could melt in one same ending once and for all.
Taraaa! It took me quite long to post this since I had other requests and stuff to write, but here it is finally, the last piece of the 100 celeb! (now we're almost at 200 lol).
I really loved this idea, hope you enjoyed the reading too!
I feel like writing some Captain Rex so... Any Rex requests? (No sex scenes, I wanna reeeaaally write interesting stuff, violence, fantasy, fluff...). Send me a text or ask! :)
Echo is a Demon. His kind is tasked with killing. Lumi is an angel; a protector. What happens when they are both sent to the same person?
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · 100 celebration – PROMPT 4 = ANGEL&DEMON AU
PAIRING: ECHO/ORIGINAL FEMALE CHARACTER
WARNINGS: WOUNDS, BLOOD, MENTIONS OF
— Prompt 5. Superpowers&Fantasy AU.
Pairing: Fives/original female character.
In a galaxy where superpowers are an everyday thing, Li is what people call a "Blink". She has the ability to teleport anywhere; which is certainly useful when you're a fugitive escaping from the 501st. Fives has dreams.
In a world were appearance is almost as important as reality, your family stands at the very top of the piramid. Like every other seventeen year old girl you're nervous and expectant for your presentation in society; and of the delicate decisions you'll have to make.
READ HERE NOW
100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 6. HISTORIC PERIOD (REGENCY) AU
REX/FEMALE READER 💖🔥
WARNINGS: ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE INSPIRED BY THE BRIDGERTONS,
— Prompt 7. Pornstar AU.
Pairing: Hunter/f reader.
Your manager tells you it's time to find a new co-star. You decide to film with Hunter, a gorgeous sexy clone turned pornstar.
READ HERE NOW
100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 7. SEX WORKER/PORNSTAR AU
HUNTER/FEMALE READER 🔥
WARNINGS: PORN INDUSTRY, VIDEO TAPES&FILMING SEX, FLEETING MENTI
— Prompt 8. Pirates AU.
Pairing: Hunter/ f reader.
You made a deal with Captain Hunter to join his crew of pirates and find the legendary Moon Kyber for him. You made a second deal with Commodoro Palpatine to deliver the treasure to him instead. How can you come out of this conflict of interests alive and with the pirate you've fallen in love with?
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100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 8. PIRATES AU
HUNTER/F READER 💖💔🔥
WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, SCARS, BLOOD AND WOUNDS, STRONG DERROGATIVE LANGUAGE TOWARDS
— Prompt 9. Mermaids AU.
Pairing: Tech/f reader.
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Below the surface, where the world is a myriad of blues and different marine kingdoms coexist, there are two subspecies of mermaids; shallow mers and deep-water mers. You've always been told to be wary of the second ones. A casual encounter starts to make you think otherwise.
100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 7. MERMAID AU
TECH/ FEMALE READER 💖
WARNINGS: This story alternates between reader's and third person (Tech'ish)
— Prompt 14. Telepathy.
Pairing: Tech/f reader.
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Tech can't figure out why you seem to shy away from him; so he uses his telepathy to find out. Your thoughts about him are definitely a surprise.
100 CELEBRATION — PROMPT 14. TELEPATHY
TECH / F READER 💖(🔥)
WARNINGS: BRIEF MENTIONS OF INSECURITIES, SEXUAL THOUGHTS BUT NO PROPER SEX SC
— Prompt 15. Arranged marriage/fake dating.
Pairing: Crosshair/original female character.
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Trying to wipe off the smile out of your ex-best friends' face, you tell her you're currently engaged; blurting out the first name that comes to your head.
100 CELEBRATION — PROMPT 15. ARRANGED MARRIAGE / FAKE DATING
CROSSHAIR/F READER 💖
WARNINGS: past friendship breakup, fluff fluff fluff.
N
— Prompt 17. Prince&servant AU.
Pairing: Rex/f reader.
You're the princess of Bahr; the succesor to the Crown. Rex is just a servant; a boy that works at the kitchen first, a captain in the army later. You should have forgotten him through the years; and yet, almost a decade later, you can't help the feeling that you two just belong.
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100 CELEBRATION — PROMPT 17. PRINCE&SERVANT AU
REX/F READER 💖💔
WARNINGS: servant/slavery themes, social gap, mentions of war, soulbonds, f
— Prompt 22. Forced to share heat/one bed.
Pairing: Wrecker/f reader.
When your ship, the Starlight, suffers the consecuences of the wrath inflicted by the pirates, Wrecker and you have to find the way of surviving together. And once you get back to safety... Was surviving all that that was, or is there something more happening between you?
WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DEATH, VIOLENCE, WOUNDS, BLOOD. 💔
The crowd roared as yet another fighter had to be dragged out of the cage. A trail of dark blood dripped from the defeated Trandoshan's body; gashes openned on his green skin with sharp spikes and blades. The bodyguards took him to one of the adyacent locker rooms; and all eyes were placed upon the winner again. He was an imponent Gen'Dai; his huge mass of tentacles swipping the air with traces of blood and grime still etched onto them. Why would someone want to voluntarily fight against a creature like that and his regeneration abilities... That, was a mistery.
Walbur was out of the usual tourists way. Only one commercial space lane runned by in its nearby proximity; and in its hidden spot in the very limit of the galaxy with the Unkown Regions, rules didn't seem to apply. That made for a very interesting and dangerous mix of travellers; and The Bad Batch couldn't have felt more normal in the dingy scarecely illuminated bar. On one side, a long sticky counter was crammed against the wall; the resident two-headed barttender pouring suspicious spiced drinks non-stop. On the oposite side, a group of two pa'lowiks and three twi'leks entertained those who wanted a safer and more relaxed show; further along, the bar openned wide to a giant room with high cealings and a built in metal cage right on its center. It was big, allowing quite a few meters of movility in the Arena inside; surrounded by rows of seats that were being currently fully occupied.
Clone Force 99 had learned uppon arrival that it was << Champions Night >>. The bar held regular fights each five rotations, apparently; and anyone could participate if they felt like tempting luck. The winner of each fight added a sum of 700 Imperial credits to their belt; the price doubled if it ended in death, and slightly increased if limbs were teared away. There was no surrender; falling KAO was the safest and quickest way out, something some fighters had to pray for right before their end.
The Bad Batch couldn't have crashed in a worse place. The Marauder needed heavy repairs; repairs that would cost them too much money, money that they didn't posess. Omega had stayed back in the damaged ship with Echo –Hunter couldn't even think of the curious teenager roaming around those streets– while the rest of them explored the Capital trying to find a solution to their problem. But there weren't many options; they needed big money, and they needed it as soon as possible. Tech had suggested a hesitant idea; and while Wrecker had inmediately agreed, Hunter had been more cautious about it.
"These fights are brutal. They can only end in either unconsciousness or death. What if it isn't Wrecker who wins? What if its him who ends like that? We'll find another way."
Tech had been quick to answer; a new idea popping into his head.
"Let him fight. If things go wrong, we can shoot his rival with a drug dart. It'll take him out of the fight straight away. It'll be our back out plan".
Hunter stared at his brother pondering the option. He still hated the idea, but they really needed their ship repaired, and every hour they stayed in Walbur increased the possibility of someone reporting them to the Empire. And he wasn't ready to have another confrontation with Crosshair, yet.
"You always carry drug darts around with you, Tech?" Hunter asked, resolve weakened, and Tech showed him a confident smile.
"Why do you think I have so many pouches in my belt?"
With that settled, they inscribed Wrecker for the next few fights. Surprisingly, he had to sign of a bunch of papers; and the humanoid that organised the fight explained them what the risks were and what weapons were allowed and not. No guns, bombs or advanced warfare; only knifes, blades, spears, shields and such were admitted inside the cage.
Hunter's worries were soothed over the course of time. Even in Walbur, Wreckers unnatural strength and resistance seemed to give him the upper hand. He hadn't won unfaced –several superficial gashes crossed his skin here and there–; but no organs, too-deep wounds or broken bones were obtained. Tech was quick in his datapad to find out weaknesses in his rivals; whispering them to Wrecker from the other side of the cage before the start of each fight. He had won three by now; he only needed a last one and they could call it a night.
While Wrecker was allowed to hydrate and sweep his sweat and blood with a towel, his next fight was announced; the crowd bursting in excited shouts and roars once more when a feminine winged creature entered –more like slided– inside the cage. She walked the space in a circle, seemingly impatient, while showing a dark smile full of sharp teeth and even sharper fangs; purple eyes burning with a neon hue and pointy claws ready to tear skin right from its owner. She wore black armour with elaborated lilac details; matching the colour of his short hair, lips and pointed ears. Her skin was a pale rose; six marks of the same shade crossing her forehead and cheeks –four of them pointing towards her nose and the other two, thicker, dripping down his undereyes–. And yet, her most distinctive feature was her wings; a meter and a half tall each and growing sharpness towards their end, a miryad of colours seemingly flowing in the inner side like melted energy.
Tech tapped away, and N inmediate frown perched upon his face.
"No results found" he voiced, aware that Hunter could be able to hear him under the noise of the crowd. He glanced up to the misterious creature again "She must come from the Unknown Regions themselves..."
Hunter tensed. He was always aware of his surroundings, always able to feel things that normal people couldn't. And he could feel the weight of her eyes on them.
When the sargent found her shiny purple stare, to his surprise, the creature widened her smirk as if to signal she had been able to hear every word coming from his brothers mouth; sharp fangs glinting menacingly with the light emitted from her own wings. Hunter's own eyes traveled up to her pointy rhomboid ears and watched them twitch, realising the first of her hidden abilities; she had heightened senses as well.
"I don't like this" he whispered to Tech "We know nothing about her".
"I'll admit the lack of knowledge is concerning, yes. However, I am still positive of Wrecker winning the fight; and we always have plan B".
Her ears twitched again before the fighter turned around and distracted herself with something else; Hunter quick to steal his brothers datapad and write his discovery in the screen for him. Tech nodded in comprehension and noted he couldn't comment his thoughts and strategies for the fight in any other place than his mind.
"I'm going back in now, guys" Wrecker announced, his usually booming voice quited down by tiredness and fatigue "Something you want to tell me, Tech?"
The resident genious fidgeted with his datapad. He hated not knowing things; even more so when his brother's life were at risk.
"She has heightened senses. Hearing is confirmed, though we are not sure as for the rest. Seing as she's a winged creature, I'd assume she could be able to move faster than usual. Her openned spots are face, neck, armpits, hands and wings. The rest is fully covered by armour, though you may try to take it out. As for the obvious... Fangs and claws, so be aware of that."
As if to mock his brother's words, she drummed her fingers on one of the metal bars of the cage; once again staring at the trio upon finding her match. Wrecker nodded and left both clones behind; stepping into the cage with precision and collected patience. The creature, on the other hand, looked eager to start.
"Oh, this' gonna be a good one" chuckled a spectator besides Tech and Hunter "I can't wait to see todays current winner brought back down to the dirt".
Tech couldn't help but take the bait.
"We'll see about that".
The anphibian-humanoid chuckled and crossed his arms.
"He's in for it, boy. He's a great fighter, I won't deny that. For a human." He pointed out, smiling, and Tech had to bite his tongue.
He still didn't know what the unusual creature was capable off; he just prayed the nochalant humanoid wasn't right.
(•••)
They had been going at it for an hour. Both Tech and Hunter had the suspition the fighter could have pushed Wrecker to darkness by now; but somehow, it seemed that the misterious creature didn't quite wanted for the fight to end, pherhaps enjoying the rush and excitement of the game. Yes; Wrecker was, for once, the weakest link.
She was just... Literally, something out of the galaxy. Her body seemed to have been created to kill and inflict pain; her fangs and claws the least of anyones concern after being spectators of her game. She was all wings. Tech and Hunter had discovered –at the same time that Wrecker, unfortunately– that the outer side of them could be used as strong shields; not a vibro-blade sharp enough to penetrate it's beskar-like thick skin. Three natural spikes were integrated on their shape; one in the very high end, one mid curve, and one close to its base. The edges of both wings worked as a thin and dangerous blade; Hunter and Echo lost count just how many times they had viciously swiped through Wrecker's skin. She seemed to have no trouble finding the open spots on his armour; and by now, the Arena was sprayed with the clone's blood. The most dangerous trait wasn't just that, though; it was her speed, her figure dissapearing from plain sight in a flash of her wings before attacking from an opposite side. Her agility was a wonder; Tech and Hunter tried tracking her moves, but quickly got lost in endless spins, tosses and turns. For the winged creature, the floor and the cealing weren't floor and cealing; there were no ups or downs.
To Wreckers credit, he was holding up surprisingly well. He was in a very obvious disadvantage; but he had managed to severely harm the creature twice, once with Hunter's vibro-blade straight to her hand –he had managed to actually press the tip in til it showed on the other side– and another time with a few well aimed strong punches to her nose and mouth. The creature had been a second too slow to react; finally getting off with a spit of purple blood and a surprised glance.
Hunter wondered if that may be the reason why she was taking her time; she had been shocked by the –compared to herself– fairly normal human; and wanted to give him time to surprise her again. She felt curious about him; and Hunter felt grateful even if it looked like a predator just playing with her pray.
Wrecker tried a bold move then; quickly throwing himself on top of the creature and grasping one of her wings. With all the strength he could muster, and in a quick second, he made a violent oposite direction pull and screamed; the creature echoing his sound in pain while she felt her right wing threatening to break away from the scapula it growed from. Her whole constellation of nerves tingled in fire and torture; but she breaked through the tears and the pain, quickly grabbing the hulk of a man wrist and snapping it away.
"Bone for bone", she hissed in anger, in her native tongue, taking advantage of his now moment of weakness to pull both of his hands against his own chest, trapping them there. "You're..."
<< You're dead >>, she was going to say, but then her purple eyes catched a hint of ink on the human's forearm, peaking right under his sleeve, and the words died on her tongue. She ripped the sleeve up, revealing the rest of the mark; and the creature read his own name stunned. "You're... You're my soulmate", she realised, stunned.
Wrecker could barely focus his eyes on hers. He felt close to fainting; the fatigue and tiredness threatening to pull him under. Even if his vision was clouded, though, he did understand; and he prayed his soulmate would be benevolent enough.
The winged creature glanced at the two other humans out of the cage –one of them discretely pointing a weird gun at her–; and shared a long intense stare with the long-haired tattoed face one.
"Can you hear me?" She asked, switching to basic, all traces of cockiness nowhere to be found.
Hunter nodded, his fists clenched and teeth grinding against each other. He only needed to give Tech the order; and soulmate or not, she would be out.
The creature looked back at the man laying under her.
"Don't shoot" she ordered, out of bresth. "You'll make a scandal. I promiss I'll just take him out".
She didn't wait for his consent. She closed both of her hands around Wrecker's throat, who inevitably struggled against her; Hunter could hear her count the seconds out loud under her breath. Tech looked towards him, searching for an aswer; but Hunter shook his head. Terrified, he wondered for a moment if it was all a strategy, if she was actually planning to kill him.
But they were soulmates. And Hunter was always aware of everything; he had noticed the change on her posture and expression when she saw her name on his skin. He knew she wasn't lying. He knew, and he just needed to trust himself and wait.
THE END.
----------------------
*AUTHORS NOTE*
THAT'S THE SECOND SOULMATE AU FOR OUR FAVORITE BATCH! I ADMIT IT WASN'T (AS ONE WOULD THINK) FLUFF; BUT I FELT EXCITED TO WRITE SOME DARK VIOLENT STUFF WITH A PRETTY BADASS RUTHELESS OFC AND THAT'S THAT! I PROMISS TO WRITE A PURE SICKLY SWEET FLUFFY ONE FOR OUR NEXT BATCHER, TECH : )
REMEMBER ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE, APOLOGISE FOR ANY MISTAKES!
I DECIDED TO CUT THE STORY THERE, BUT LET ME KNOW IF YAll INTERESTED IN A SECOND PART!
WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, SCARS, BLOOD AND WOUNDS, STRONG DERROGATIVE LANGUAGE TOWARDS WOMAN, MENTIONED DEATH OF A PARENT. SEX SCENE (NOT VERY EXPLICIT, MORE SENSUAL&SUGGESTIVE).
Note: This came out to be so long! Just so you have an idea, it's 30 pages of word doc. I'll divide it in chapters in this same post so you can continue with your reading easier if you need to do it in more than one go. Don't worry about the warnings, this is mostly adventure with fluff and just a tiny sprinkle of angst (happy ending and all). Upgraded Hunter to Captain. On another note, only 4 more prompts left for the 100celeb! Enjoy and please let me know what you've thought. Reblog if u can! XX, Blue :)
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1. The Deal
The stench of alcohol would have been overwhelming if you hadn't been living in this kind of atmosphere your whole life. It makes the air around you feel charged and warm; clinging to the old wood of the chairs, tables, and countertops alike. The crowd is loud and roars with fits of laughter; a fight or two breaking in the corner of the bar. You don't spare them a second glance. If you had been a proper lady, all of this might have scared you away; but no, you're no lady. You're a pirate.
You feel at home in places like this. There's drunk men, yes, and dangerous ones; but you've never felt more alive than surrounded by fellow pirates. There's freedom, banter, and songs so ancient everybody is able to sing along. Even the sporadic fights are a reminder that you're all human; that you get angry and make mistakes with consequences. Sometimes those in a position of power don't even look like one; just empty carcasses dolled up with pretty dresses and jewelry that somehow have learned how to move and talk. All practiced, meaningless smiles and repetitive conversation. This is nothing like it.
You're enjoying all of this while being alone and silent in the far end of the counter, perched up on one of the chairs. A patron or two have attempted a conversation with you tonight; though a quick, cold side glance has been enough to shoo them away. You're not a conversationalist; and you're on one of those melancholic moods today. Memories of your father and your youth fleets by your mind; like gusps of wind you can never catch. Still, even when distracted and lost in thoughts from a life time ago, a part of you is always vigilant; cataloguing changes in your surroundings and possible dangers. It's the reason why you hear the almost imperceptible change of the crowd straigthening their backs and their voices changing to a wary, expectant tone. Footsteps; a lazy, slow spring, light and cautious in it's feet. Ready to fight -or flee-.
You don't turn around to acknowledge the newcomer. For others it may seem like you don't even care for who approaches you or what could he want from you; perhaps it even makes you look arrogant and overconfident. But oh, you are paying attention; and even if your posture seems relaxed and nochalant with your back still facing the crowd –the aproaching stranger– the hand carefully positioned over the knife hidden in your left boot is perfectly ready to strike.
The footsteps come to a halt right behind you. The atmosphere in the bar turns tense. It must be someone of importance, to make the crowd react like that. If it weren't, people would have just continued laughing and drinking.
"You're hard to find".
Cryptic. It's a peculiar voice; you'll give him that. Deep and slightly raspy, though somehow smooth and warm at the same time. A bit of an incongruence. You know a lot about that.
You take a slow, long gulp of your whisky before answering; your index playing with the rim of the glass.
A hint of amusement slips into your answer. You can't help but play –just enough– with danger; you've always been like that.
"Perhaps you're just bad at searching".
He hums, not impressed with your comeback. Your ears pick up the sound of the man dragging the closest chair towards you. The tone of his voice –relaxed but quietly carefull– doesn't change while he sits down.
"That would be a bit ironic, considering who I am".
You've played with the moment long enough. You glance at the man sitting next to you; eyes quickly cataloguing his hard facial features, long hair, strong shoulders and trim waist. With that half-tattoed face of his and the red bandana across his forehead, he's hard not to place.
"Ah" your lips turn up in a tiny smile. "Captain Hunter, famous treassure-seeker and leader of the misterious Marauder. Yes, that would be quite the joke".
You can't help but feel in danger –and curious– being this close to him. This man is one of the most well-known pirates on this side of the Five Seas; you'd grown up at the same time the stories of the Fett brothers had grown as well. They were said to be eight; along a longer list of cousins and other distant relatives. Some had tried to join their crew under the pretense of being one of them; but their physical similarities were a dead give away. If there was a Fett around you, you just knew. They had the same bone structure, a sort of sharpness to their features, and brown or amber eyes that rooted you in place. There was no need to question it.
You've watched members of the Fett family here and there –some in bars you frequented, some walking across the harbor, a few even taking their pleasure with a lady in the protection of a dark alley at night–, but you've never once talked to one of them. There's always a first, you guess.
"To what do I owe the honor, then?" You ask, feigning desinterest though this is the most exciting thing that has happened to you in the last three months.
The pirate scans you in silence. You understand the flush the Fetts often pull from the ladies; he's got one hell of a stare. It takes all the years you have facing oponents for you to not squirm.
"I'm sure you've heard something around" he finally starts, his eyes turning to scan the crowd. "I'm planning to start a new adventure soon, all the way up to the North Sea. I'm looking for recruits".
You arch an eyebrow, not fooled by his vague explanation. You don't like when people do that on purpose; it means there's always things to hide.
"I thought you boys didn't let any stranger join your little family club" you answer, almost teasingly.
He looks back at you. He gives you a single word.
"Exactly".
It's heavy and full of meaning. He's pointing out you're no ordinary stranger; admiting that you're somewhat special. You're not gonna' lie; it strokes your ego a bit, even if you don't let that distract you.
"You need me" you realise with a smirk. That's the only reason he'd allowed you to join them. You must have something he can't find in nobody else. But what would that be? "Why?"
The pirate shrugs. So quiet, so misterious. You're intrigued.
"I hear you were born in Ionia. It would be useful, having a guide through the dangers of the North Sea. It's dangerous waters".
Your smirk widens.
"Mm, you've heard" you mock almost in a singing voice. "So you've studied me. Not many know I was born there. Ionia is too far away from here for anyone to cross-check".
Hunter's lips curve upwards in a faint smile.
"You're right with that. There are a lot of different and often oposite stories about you".
You hear the rest of the sentence even if he doesn't say it out loud; who knows which ones are true.
You fully turn your body towards him.
"And which one brought you to me?"
You'll say yes. He probably knows that too; you're not one to turn down a good adventure, and it would be a heck of one to be able to work with the Fetts.
You still want to have all the information before you accept.
"I admit all of them were pretty interesting" Hunter says, fingers tapping against the wood of the counter. "But there's only one that makes you unique".
It's involuntary; the way your face adjusts to a new proud and understanding smile.
"You need a diver" the puzzle slowly starts to make sense. "What treassure are you trying to find this time, Captain?"
Hunter's dark chocolate eyes sparkle with interest. He might be a feared pirate; but in his heart he's still a child dreaming of magic and fairytales, like all good pirates are. Like yourself.
"It's going to be a long journey. I need a diver that can hold their breath for at least twenty minutes underwater. There's only one place in the North Sea where I'd need a skill like that".
You find the last missing piece.
"The caves of Ilum" you realize, your own eyes brightening in wonder. "You're trying to find the Moon Kyber cristal".
It was your favorite story growing up; how a group of trained soldiers named "the Jedi" had learnt to canalyse the energy residing in a special mineral and used it to improve their fighting style. They were said to be extinguished –decimated in a great war in the Old Times–, and that the last of their kind had hidden his Moon Kyber cristal somewhere in the cold North Sea, burried in one of the Ilum caves. Pirates and sailors had tried to find it for centuries, desperate to fill their pockets with money or their hands with power; others, for the simple pleasure of owning a piece of history. But the Moon Kyber had never been found; soon forgotten in memories and often brushed aside as tales.
"And you're what, going to send me to explore each posible underwater cave you find?" You ask, wary about the execution of his plan.
He remains calm and unbothered.
"We could try it that way, but it would take us a bit too long for my taste. I've already done my work and I know exactly where to navigate" before you've had the chance to ask, he's already sending you a warning glance. "And I'm obviously not telling you. Can't risk you trying to get it on your own or giving the information to someone else".
You sigh in resignation.
"You want me to make a blind jump. To trust you. That all of this is true and I'm going to be safe in a ship full of men I know nothing about".
He answers with a single, final word.
"Yes".
You hum in thought. You don't. You don't trust him; and you don't trust you'd be safe with the crew of male strangers either. Perhaps he wants you to bring the cristal to him –if it exists– and then he'll get rid of you to enjoy the reward alone. Perhaps this is all a story and he needs you for something else. Who knows, he might even want to hand you to someone else for some sort of revenge. No matter. You'll be alert and you'll come out if this clean.
You make up your resolve and tilt your chin up at him.
"I'm asuming you'll sell the kyber and make a fortune from it" you point out, then state with a firm voice. "I want a third of the price".
Hunter snorts; the first real, uncontrolled reaction you pull from him.
"I have seventy men on board and you want a whole third of the reward. A bit ambitious, don't you think?"
You shrug. Negotiating is part of being a pirate. You know it's too much to ask, but it's just a start.
"Like you said, my skill is unique. We both can't get the Kyber without the other. You know where it is and I'm the only one able to get it. Good luck trying to find someone who can hold their breath for twenty minutes and swim in those freezing waters at the same time".
Hunter tries to make you back down with his stare and his silence; but you don't waver, and you defiantly stare back at him.
The pirate clenches his jaw once.
"Twenty-five percent" he conceeds.
You grin. You don't think this man is the type to soldier through an extense negotiation; and you're not in the mood for that yourself. You might have tried to go for a thirty percent some other time; but you'll consider it as a victory this once.
You wake up to the king of your nightmares. You haven't seen Commodoro Palpatine in eight years; but he still manages to evoke the same feeling inside of you. Terror, anger, fear, pain. He's the one that killed your father eleven years ago; the reason why you're covered in scars you haven't allowed anyone to see.
"Hello, my dear" he smiles, a crooked, cold thing. "I was wondering when I'd have the pleasure to meet you again".
His fingers graze your shoulder while he walks around you like a vulpture waiting for the poor hurt animal to exhale his last breath; sending goosebumps through your skin.
You clench your fists; unable to tear yourself from his touch with the tight restraints they've put you in. The last thing you remember was walking outside of the tabern to get some sleep. You don't remember receiving any blow to your head, so it's possible they may have slipped a drug to your drink.
"What do you want from me?" You spit out, trying to hide your fear beneath a layer of ire.
Commodoro Palpatine laughs almost in delight.
"Straight to the point, I see" you hate the way he talks, so falsely sweet. "You've made a deal with a certain Captain lately. I want to make you a deal as well".
At this point in your life, his extense list of spies doesn't surprise you. You haven't seen him in eight years because he hasn't wanted to; not because he couldn't. It's the problem about him; he has everyone under his radar with promises of money, threats, and power.
"What deal?" You ask him directly, skipping the show of you trying to resist to his wishes. Better get this over with.
"You'll go on your little trip with Captain Hunter. You'll get the Moon Kyber for him, and once you return to land, you'll hand it to me".
You scoff, voice coming out in irritated muttering.
"And what makes you think I won't flee with it?"
Palpatine's dark smile could kill death itself.
"There's two things pirates always look for, my dear. Credits... And treasures" he finally shows you the small object that he has been hiding in his hand this whole time, an old pendant you recognise well. It belonged to your father –before he gave it to you in your eight birthday–; Palpatine must have teared it from you the day he tortured you and killed him.
Your body tingles in pain with the memory; your heart clenches. Even for pirates, credits don't have enough value compared to a few handfull of things. Your late father's pendant is one of yours. You need it.
For the second time in the week, you say the word again.
The Marauder is everything you have ever imagined it would be. The ship is beautiful; dark wood and scarlet sails, with it's three mastils standing tall and a sharp bow to cut into the sea. The crew is as you expected it to be too; fierce and diligent, paired with a common distrust towards the new recruit -you–. On the first day, Captain Hunter gives them orders to let you be; though it does little to stop the glares and sneers as you move through the ship.
It doesn't matter. They'll get used to your presence; you all have a long trip up to the North Sea.
You can't help but feel excited. It's been a decade since you last stepped in home. You'd escaped Ionia with your father in an attempt to hide from Palpatine; and while Corus is full of dark memories and loneliness, you still keep a fond memory of Ionia. Of long dips in the water and a time when everything felt safe, easier. You know your return won't feel the same –not without your father by your side–; but you still long to see the white coast and it's dark, almost black waters. You've always find that to be a beautiful contrast.
You don't let Hunter out of sight. As weeks pass by, you can't help but make a habit of observing him. You're curious; and you still don't trust him. The wariness starts to dissapear with time; but it's a residue that always stays no matter how hard you scrub.
Hunter is as fierce as the rest of his men. Frown set and jaw tense, he barks orders around no-one dares to give a second glance. The ship advances so fast that you start to think that the way to the North won't take as long as you'd originally thought. It's a well oiled machine; his words are actions inmediately carried by his crew. There's a special kind of relationship between this men; Hunter might be their leader, and there might be a clear hierarchy, but they act so in sync and hold such a deep respect for each other that it's hard to see the lines between their positions. You've never seen pirates move and fight like that. Perhaps that's the reason for their fame and victories; the fact that they know each other so well, the fact that they trust each other to the bone. The fact that they're family. You wonder how it would feel to have so many siblings spread around the world and never feel alone.
To your surprise, you notice your relationship with the Captain shifting as well. With each harsh encounter you face by their side against other pirates, sailors, or the dangers of the sea, he seems to relax a tiny bit more around you, giving you more freedom to move around the ship without his gaze set upon you. The night you help one of his brothers –Echo– with a deep gash on his hand, he even offers you a nod and a slight curve of his lips you catalogue as a smile.
Alcohol has always been sailors favorite method of killing time; and facing the cold and loneliness of the night. Unfortunately, it does more than soothe one's worries away; it gives men courage, which in itself is not a bad thing, but if taken too far rum loosens tongues and problems arise. The night you finally cross the border of Corus's sea into the North one, everyone is happy and excited; bottles of rum being passed around the crew, everyone sprawled lazily in deck. Hours creep in between jokes, stories and laughter; eyes growing glassy and slowly blinking sleep away. As usual, you're sitting alone close to the bowsprit; a position that allows you a perfect vision of the rest of the ship. You're still close enough to hear them –since they're not bothering in whispering anyways–.
"Shut up, di'kut" one man playfully punches another's arm. "You're probably gonna' spend all your credits in a woman when we get back".
Everyone laughs and snickers, and the pirate in question shrugs with a radiant grin.
"You would understand why if you'd had experienced the warmth and pleasure that comes from being buried between a woman's legs. One day, vod" he rises his rum and takes a long gulp from the bottle.
The crowd roars in laughter, and the first man's cheeks light up in an embarassed red.
"Not my fault all the woman we happen to come across are whores, Blades" he mutters, as the chuckles slowly die around them. "I prefer to save my earnings for other things. And to save myself from who-knows-what disease".
The one named Blades smirks and doesn't let him go that easily.
"Well, you have a pretty pirate right there" he points at you with a jerk of his chin. "Why don't you try your luck with that one, mm?"
All eyes turn to you. They roam up and down your figure, considering the pirate's words. Like they've suddenly remembered you're a woman. And you're here, with them. The man Blades is taunting hesitates; but eventually nods tersely, and stands up to make his way towards you.
A shiver spreads through your spine. Though you don't think they'll try anything as a collective –not under Hunter's command– you can read the hunger in their eyes. This men have never been your friends –you're aware of that–, but neither have they acted as enemies. Now, though, you feel surrounded by sharks.
Even if your heart speeds up and emotions clash inside of you, you keep your breathing under control, casting your eyes downwards in order to look distracted and ocupied. You listen to his stumbling footsteps approaching you. Your left hand carefully moves towards your ankle, where you keep a blade cinched to it and covered by the fabric of your boot; waiting for the perfect second to move.
"Hey, gorgeous" he starts his line once he's just a step away from you, towering over your sitting position. "How about you and me go to have some fun below deck?"
"No, thanks" you answer feigning boredom, ears and corners of your vision still trained on him and the rest of the men avidly watching the interaction behind him.
He makes a disaproving sound with his tongue.
"Ah, come on, girl" he keeps trying, growing nervous at the thought of the rest of the crew watching his defeat. "Don't be a prude..."
He goes to grab your shoulder, but you're way faster than him. You swipe his legs of the floor with a quick strong movement of yours; and you're holding the blade to his neck in a blink. He's too stunned to say anything –watching you with wide eyes–; but the rest of the crew inmediately straightens up ready to defend him.
"The answer is no" you insist, voice low and dangerous, finally retracting your weapon and standing up and away. "Now I sugest you return to your place".
He does it without uttering a single word, perhaps still shocked from the surprise. Everyone seems to be. Surprised and wary. Perhaps your reaction has been a little too much; but once again, you're alone in a ship full of strangers –strangers that could turn on you in an unfair fight you'd had almost unexisting chances of winning–, and you need to send a message. You're no-ones plaything. And no one is going to touch you unless you want them to.
You sit back down quietly as well, studying the crowd in case of another altercation. Adrenaline pumps through your veins. There are some insults being spat under their breath and some whispering; but no one picks up another fight. Your eyes eventually find Hunter; who is standing up and watching the situation in front of the Foremast. He's tense –though you're not sure who exactly is he angry with–; and when his eyes bore into yours, your scars itch uncomfortably under your shirt. You tilt your chin up at him.
The Marauder is more or less two weeks away from the caves of Ilum. You can't help but feel a sort of peace as you stare into the horizon; an orange sun melting into black waters, setting everything on fire. It's beautiful. The air is already so much colder; though you know it's nothing compared to how freezing the North Sea is.
When the sun is completely extinguished and there's no longer light to guide the Marauder through the rocky coast of Ionia, Hunter gives the order to rest for the night. The crew bunkers down below deck –hiding from the cold– and you use the rare oportunity of being completely alone to take a quiet swim.
It's not that you're enthusiastic about going into the freezing waters at night. But it's been a few years since you did a long dive, and it's a good idea to start gaining a bit of practice. Your body needs to get used to moving in the North Sea again. It's not an easy task.
You carefully lower yourself on one of the boats until you touch the surface of the water. It's so black it acts like a perfect mirror under the moonlight; your eyes staring at your reflection without a clue of what could be hiding underneath. You try the temperature sinking a hand on the sea. Goosebumps inmediately rises on your skin.
Boots on and everything –any layer of clothing helps– you slowly leave the boat and dissapear under the water, teeth inmediately pressing against each other in an effort to cope with the paralising cold. It's almost as if it grips each one of your muscles and locks them in place, trying to drown you.
You get used to it for a few minutes first; then, your hands leave the edge of the boat. You close your eyes and remain floating with the minimum effort; legs gently moving to keep you close to the surface from time to time.
You train in a progression, just like you learnt when you were a kid. You first hold your breath for five minutes; then you do a dip of ten, then fifteen. When you come up for air again, you take another fifteen to rest. Although the water is freezing cold, your wet clothes and the wind makes the return to the sea for one last dive feel almost like a relief.
Twenty minutes gives you a lot of time to think. Your mind does a slow review of this last month in the Marauder; whatever you've happened to learn about members of it's crew, of Hunter. He's closest to other four pirates; Wrecker, Tech, Echo and Crosshair. They seem to be even more in sync than the rest. You notice they're the most different appearance-wise as well; perhaps that's what pushed them together, or maybe they have just known each other the longest.
You also think of Palpatine and your father. It doesn't sit well with you, hiding this second deal to the captain of the Marauder; but you have little choice. Palpatine wouldn't have let you go if you had refused; and you know he'll be waiting for your return. You'll find a way to fool him; but until you do, you'll keep that secret close to your heart. Who knows what would happen to you if Hunter or any of the Fetts discovered it...
Stress evaporates underwater. Your mind eventually empties; you're part of the sea. Time vanishes too.
You wake up from your trance with your lungs burning. You're forced to break the surface of the water; inmediately taking a quick breath of air in. Your head pounds; but you close your eyes and calm your agitated body down, anchoring your elbows to the boat and letting out a tired, panting sigh. Each gulp of air hurts for the first few seconds; until you regulate your breathing again. Exhausted and shivering –you really should get to warmth now–, you use what little strength you have left to pull yourself over into the boat and then lift it up to deck again.
Completely exhausted and curved forward with both of your hands resting against your knees, you don't even notice him until he speaks; his calm voice startling you and making you stand up straight again.
"You could have died and nobody would've even known".
His dark chocolate eyes are set on yours. This time, the surprise brought up by his unexpected presence makes them look innocent and young.
Water dripping onto the deck and clothes stuck to your skin, your answer comes out in a whispered shiver.
"That would have been really tragic" you agree, hugging your own body in a futile attempt to warm yourself up. "You'd never get to see your Kyber".
Hunter's lips and throat moves as if to speak; but then he stays in silence, observing you quietly with that intimidating stare of his. You can usually ignore it, but this time you feel the need to break the tension.
"I was getting myself used to this waters again. It's been eleven years since I was last in Ionia. I have a natural skill for diving and holding my breath, which I've been training since I was a kid, but believe it or not, I still need a bit of aclimatising".
"And you decided to do your first try at night without warning anyone".
You give him a shrug and a guilty smile.
"I can't really practice while the ship is moving, so it had to be at night... And I don't like others watching" it slips out.
Hunter hums. His eyes flicker down towards your collarbone, and you suddenly realise that with your loose shirt sticking to your skin, the very first of your scars is now visible. You inmediately tense and pull it back to place.
He notices it, but makes no comment.
"Your skin is starting to turn blue" he points out. "You should get to warmth".
"Guess I'll have to make myself a spot between your men under deck" you chuckle, trembling. "Steal a bed roll or two".
What Hunter offers doesn't leave your head in the next few days.
"You could take my bed. I can always bunker with Tech" the pause between the two of you is long, perhaps because you're both shocked by his words, and Hunter continues in an effort to downplay his sugestion. "We can't have you falling sick now, with no proper medics on board".
If Hunter's words surprises you, perhaps your answer shocks him as well.
"You could always stay".
There's a million of thoughts and emotions roaming in those dark eyes. For a moment, you think he'll pass; but when you shiver again, his gaze turns soft, warm, and he smiles.
It's unfair. Hunter is, to date, the best sex you've had; and it's difficult not to want a repeat of that night when you see him everyday, and you're both trapped in the same ship in the middle of the sea. Maybe that's why you can't tear your eyes off of him; yes, the fact that he's good like that, and not the lingering doubt that you're starting to like him.
Hunter had treated you like only lovers in books did. He wasn't rough, though he certainly wasn't soft either; it was sensual, passionate, lips moving over bodies and hips joining in endless waves. You had been reduced to moan and whimpers; and you had left him breathless as well. Hunter had been particularly unselfish and considerate, mindful of your comfort and pleasure; and in a world of pirates and dangerous men, it had shocked you to your very bone. It was a bit scary, in fact; how it felt like he was undressing your every layer and pulling them apart even when you had remained hidden in most of your clothes all the time.
The tension between the two of you builds and builds while days pass; until you can't longer keep it locked inside.
You knock on his private room at night; and when he opens with an irritated expresion that quickly morphs into hunger and surprise, you all but jump him. You bite down onto his lower lip, ravenous, and he groans into your mouth; hands caressing your back before taking a firm hold on your hips and pushing you back.
"What?" You ask him, panting, face tilted up towards him.
Hunter's dark eyes scan you. Studies you; almost as if he doesn't quite understand.
You can't help yourself. You want him too bad; you're on fire, impatient, and you kiss him again when he stays in silence. He seems to forget whatever he was going to say; because he let's you push him backwards into his room, and tugs you to bed. His eyes close while you caress and kiss his body, taking his clothes off; and he only seems to come back to his right mind when you're seconds away of sinking onto his cock.
"Wait" he asks, fingertips digging into your hips while you take position over his hips.
He breathes heavily under your confused gaze; a hesitant expresion on his face. It's like he wants to tell or ask you something; but he's afraid.
You search his eyes; the hunger and eagerness, mixed with the confusion and wariness, and you suddenly understand.
"You think this is some sort of plan. A way of using you".
Hunter sighs, relieved he doesn't have to voice his worries out loud, and you answer with a dry laugh.
"And what is that plan, Hunter? Seduce my way into your heart and flee with the cristal?"
The silent is painful. It hurts; though you understand his waryness. You'd probably have thought the same had he looked for you again. The thought has crossed your mind; that doing this is dangerous, that it could complicate things. But you don't care; you're used to running the long way.
"Perhaps I'm using you" you taunt, and his eyes darken in a warning until you elaborate with a fervor you rarely let anyone see. "But to feel something other than anger, loneliness, ambition. There's no ulterior reason why I want to have sex with you. You don't trust me. And I understand. But you can".
You wait; eyes open and eager. Honest. You don't exactly know how this trip is going to end; but you've got no intentions of hurting him, and you'll try to avoid it as much as possible.
You just want to enjoy his body and affection now; feel that exhilarating pleasure again. Leave your head for a little while.
"I can try" he finally answers, taking a deep breath. His fingers take hold on the edge of your shirt. "I want to see you this time".
You tense; it's an involuntary reaction. Hunter gently caresses your hip with one hand, patiently waiting for an answer. You can read his words in his warm eyes; "You can trust me too".
Your voice is so low and meek he has trouble hearing you.
"I've never shown them to anyone" you whisper, biting onto your lip uncomfortably.
Hunter squeezes softly. He stays quiet; letting you decide.
It's dangerous. You already see him differently than anyone else; sharing this vulnerability with him is a big step. And like him, you have trouble trusting; you don't want to get hurt.
You look at him, sprawled under you, long hair tangled in a mess and warm brown eyes staring straight at you. Gentle hands, beautiful skin. Vulnerable. Patient.
Your trembling fingers pull off your shirt; leaving you exposed to him. You tightly shut your eyes and remain inmovile on top of him; Hunter breathes out and slowly reaches a hand towards your skin.
"Who?" He asks, because it's obvious this scars haven't been made by accidents, but inflicted by someone.
You shiver.
"Palpatine".
You don't have to specify. Even if he's from Ionia, like yourself, his power and cruelty extends everywhere.
"When your father died?" He quietly questions, cautious not to push you away.
You remember he had studied you before all of this.
You give him a sad smile.
"Yeah. I foolishly wandered alone once, when we were on the run, and he captured me first. He used to play this sick game with him... Where he would cut me open and leave a trail of my blood around, for my father to search and follow like a dog. It wasn't enough to just kill him. Palpatine is a monster, and he and my father were the oldest of enemies".
And then, a confession burried deep in your soul, because you're too fierce of a pirate to be scared of anything, and more so of just one man.
"He terrifies me" you whisper.
Hunter's hands take hold of your innocent face.
"He isn't here" he soothes you, tenderly. "You're safe with me".
He kisses you, and you swallow every worry down. The "he's closer than you think", and "he'll be waiting". They're your burdens to carry; your curse. Your secret.
For now, you let Hunter kiss you and guide you onto his cock; and you surrender to pleasure and oblivion.
A whole month of nights in Hunter's bed and the heartfelt conversations afterwards, the Marauder stops in a big formation of rocks in the region of Ilum. Hunter explains to you everything he knows about this place; and then it's your turn to play.
Every single man of the crew is waiting in deck, staring at you while you're lowered on one of the boats and take a few minutes to calm down and prepare yourself.
The moment is inevitable; and you jump headfirst into the water, ignoring the biting cold and calmly starting to swim towards the rocks. You stay close to surface at first. Once your hand comes into contact with the first of the caves, you anchor yourself to the rock as best as you can and take a deep breath.
"Here goes the first dive" you think to yourself, and you start to swim straightly downwards into the depths of the sea.
The first ten minutes feel easy after this last two months of training. You try to find some sort of entrance between the rocks; but to no avail, and once your lungs start to burn, you start your way up to surface again.
Panting heavily, you make a negative sign with your finger to Hunter, who is watching among the crew from the ship, spyglass in hand; and take ten minutes to calm yourself down again.
You nod and open your eyes; swimming to the next rock and signaling you're going down again. Ten minutes of swimming downward goes; the water getting colder and the pressure on your ears bigger. It borders on painful; but you push that to a second plane and focus on your research. Your eyes follow a group of tiny yellow fishes moving towards a gap in the underside of the rock; and you wonder if the treasure could be hiding in the other side. It's wide enough that you could carefully swim through it.
There's only one way to find out.
Resolved and confident, you start swimming forward, following the trail of fishes in what you now identify as an underwater tunel. It get's progressively darker the more you advance; and your lungs start to burn, making you worry about wether if you should start your way back or continue with the dive. But then the colour of the water slightly changes; dark blue instead of black, and then ligther in what has to be... light.
You swim faster, and faster, and faster; and then, you're suddenly taking a deep, rushed breath in in what you can now identify as a cave. You've never seen anything this beautiful. Thin rays of sunglight enter through tiny spots left between the rocks; partially iluminating the cave in a faint glow. There isn't just one cristal in here; but dozens of them, all different colours and shapes, stuck all over the rocks in both the cealing and walls. They shine and sparkle. This cave really feels magical. You get lost for some minutes staring at your finding; until your eyes fall in some mineral you've never seen before.
You swim closer, one hand clinging to the rocky wall to support part of your weight; studying the sparkling cristals curiously. It's a mix between grey and blue, and the size of a finger; they look like some sort of gemstone. You know this probably isn't what you're looking for; but it doesn't mean it's not special.
You continue searching; but you're unable to find the Moon Kyber. You sigh, tired, and close your eyes. You think of the stories; the supposed origin of this cristal. The Jedi. Kybers were thought to be almost alive; the Jedi believed some could be even heard as music. That the Kybers called them; had a natural affinity with some. You're no Jedi, and you don't really quite believe all of it; but perhaps there's some truth to what you nowadays know of history.
You take a deep breath in and remain with your eyes closed; focusing on the rest of your senses. The small movement of the currents against the rocky walls; the tiny fishes swimming around. Your presence, alive and warm; picture all the other gems around you. You stay like this for a few minutes, almost in a trance; until something shines over your closed eyelids, and even before opening your eyes, you already know what you're goint to find.
It's an amber colour, much smaller than what you had imagined, and shines like there's a tiny sun, liberating energy, trapped inside the cristal's walls. Even if you're not touching it, it feels warm; in ways you can't understand. You carefully close your fingertips around it; and the cristal almost comes off of the rocky wall inmediately, like it wants to go with you. A sincere smile forms on your face.
Your eyes travel back towards the other unidentified mineral you'd found in the cave. Your mind starts to connect the dots; an idea taking shape in your head. You take two pieces of the blue-grey mineral as well; and the kyber goes into your boot while one of the blue cristals sits on top of your tongue.
Shooting one last lingering glance towards the cave, you take a deep breath; and initiate the way back.
When your head pops out of the surface of the water after almost an hour of exploration, cheers and shouts sound from the men on The Marauder. You get back onto the boat; and they pull you back onto the deck. Your breathing is shattered, exhausted, and you smile tiredly at Hunter when he inmediately steps towards you.
"Did you find it?" he asks, eyes shinning, hands coming to rest onto your shoulders affectionately.
You make a chuckling noise with your throat and open your mouth, spitting the blue cristal into the palm of your hand. Around you, there's a chorus of disgusted groans and excited whispering.
"Yeah" you laugh, pinching the beautiful shinning cristal between your fingertips. "I got it alright".
Hunter's rare smile is just as radiant as the real Kyber; which remains hidden inside of your boot when you both join each other in bed hours later.
While for everyone the journey from Ionia back to Corus is one of pure hapiness and bliss, you can't help but feel melancholic; like all things are coming to an end. It's not that you'll miss The Marauder dearly; but coming to port means a possible end to your's and Hunter's relationship, and that... That you'll miss.
You catch yourself glancing up at him all the time. He notices it, and you mask it under a small smile or a teasing wink; but inside, your heart squeezes painfully. For your idea to succeed, you're going to have to betray him first. Well, you won't be really betraying him; but he'll believe so. And he has to believe it. For this to work, Palpatine has to see the hurt and pain in Hunter's eyes; the surprise and rawness of his anger and the rest of his men. It's the reason why you can't warn him. The time to soothe him will come; but first, you have to push him through despair.
You wonder if he loves you as you've come to love him. Yes, you do. It's a hard truth to accept; but it's the truth. Somewhere between liking him and growing fond of him, somewhere between melting at his rare smiles and sharing nights of pleasure and passion and the quiet conversations afterwards, the pirate had stolen another treasure, fiercely protected under numerous walls; your heart.
Sometimes you're sure he does. It's the way he looks at you; or how he grazes your hand and back. The way he shoots a glance at anyone else when he hears them speaking ill of you or how he turns protective. Even his close brothers often tease him about it. Others, his feelings seem to be burried between his own layers of distrust and nochalance; when he can't bear to show such vulnerability any longer. In those times you try to disarm him with one kiss after another one. Sometimes you suceed, and sometimes you don't; and he'll twist out of your arms to take you from behind. To escape the power of your eyes; eyes that will force him to blurt all worries and desires he isn't ready to share yet. There's still a long way for your's and Hunter's interactions to grow; but you have plenty of patience for a man like him.
The Marauder docks quietly but swiftly; it's crew happy to touch land again no matter how much they've enjoyed their adventure at the sea. Everyone rushes to enjoy their free time; The Marauder will only stock up for the night before moving elsewhere. Hunter offers you his hand in a mocking chivalrious gesture; and you accept his help laughing, entwining your fingers with him afterwards and tugging him along. Hunter chuckles quietly and follows.
"Where are we going?" he asks, lightness in his voice.
You turn to grin up at him.
"Isn't it obvious? I think we deserve something other than rum to celebrate".
Hunter smiles wider, his eyes taking that quiet warmth and softness he sometimes show when looking at you. You squeeze his hand affectionately too.
One whiskey gives way to another one; and soon you're lost again in Hunter's chocolate eyes, in how handsome he looks, how much you like him. Love him.
"Please, forgive me" you beg him in your head, memorising his features. "Please, please, please".
Palpatine irrupts in the bar three hours after you had arrived -perhaps waiting for Hunter to be inebriated, perhaps making sure none of his men would be close to help him-; followed by a flock of the Red Guard soldiers. He likes to do an entrance; and as expected, time seems to freeze with his appearance, frightened eyes and shocked expresions directed at him. Palpatine's own cold eyes inmediately find you; and Hunter -Oh, Hunter- inmediately stands up to put himself between the two of you.
You can see his tense shoulders and his jaw clench; while Palpatine looks relaxed while he shortens the distance between you.
"How lovely" his voice is that of a snake, acompanied by a cruel, dark smile. "Don't tell me you've stolen his heart too, my dear. Absolutely brilliant".
Hunter stays in place; but his eyes flicker from him to you in a mix of confusion and hope. He knows how Palpatine's words sound; he just can't believe you've done it, the thing he was afraid of from the beginning. Grow close to him only to betray him in the end. Use him.
Though surprised, Palpatine doesn't seem to be at all interested in whatever is happening between the pirate and you. He extends his hand; tone laced with sudden boredom.
"Now dear... Please, the Kyber" he asks.
This time Hunter does turn around to look at you. He looks as you push your hand into your pocket; and come up with a grey cristal. You hand it to the Commodoro.
"My fathers pendant" you demand, voice sharp and serious.
Hunter's eyes find yours; almost like he's asking if that has been the price.
Palpatine laughs.
"When you've given me the real one, dear" he points out. You knew he would.
You shoot him an irritated glance; nodding quietly and taking the blue cristal out from your breast band. Palpatine arches a brow; and examines the gemstone. It's nothing he has seen before; it shines even with no light inflection, a bright, glowing blue. Pure. It looks like it holds the sea itself. Or perhaps the moon.
Hunter makes a move to grab it; but two Corries inmediately hold him in place, Palpatine tutting condescendingly.
"Ah, ah. I believe the Moon Kyber is now mine, Captain Hunter. You should take more care of who you trust for the next time".
You can't look at him. Can't watch Hunter's face and the pain and hurt reflected on it. Everything in you is screaming to comfort him; to take his hand, to caress his hair like you do at night. You can't.
Palpatine offers you his part of the deal; and you quickly take your father's pendant of his hands, tying it up around your neck. Keeping it safe.
The man of your nightmare smiles.
"Well, it was nice to oficially meet you, Captain. I'm sure we'll see each other again" the Commodoro says, briefly nodding at him in farewell before turning towards you and gesturing to the door of the tabern in invitation. "Shall we leave now, my dear?"
You feel Hunter watching you. You want to take one last look at him before following Palpatine; but you'll break. You can't.
You take a deep breath in and walk outside the bar.
A month later -one of the hardest of your life, after the loss of your father- you hear news about The Marauder docking in Kamino's port. You've been keeping an eye on Hunter in the distance; cautiously asking around and following him around the South just one carefull step behind. You'd like to have contacted him sooner; but it was too risky, considering Palpatine had yet to sell his blue cristal and he'd probably keep an eye on you as well until he had those credits in his hands. Now, though, now... Palpatine is a million credits richer; and you are free to explore the world again. Free to find him.
You know things wouldn't end well if you'd directly confronted him. He probably hates you right now; has tried to burry your memory in a pit of anger and hurt. And you understand. He might probably still resent you even after you've explained yourself; but you have to at least try.
You miss him. So much...
You send a messenger instead. It's a ten year old boy who doesn't even know who you are or who Hunter is; who doesn't know the content of the small bag he's been paid to deliver. It's safer this way.
Hunter makes a silent gesture to Wrecker, and his brother let's the child pass. Wrecker -and all of his crew, really- has been particularly protective lately. Although he was just as furious and dissapointed as the rest by what had happened, his brother's love for their family would always be bigger; and thankfully, Hunter hand't had to give much of an explanation to his crew other than that the pirate girl had deceived him with the cristal. Fled.
The kid is awfully persistent, though, and he's just a kid; so Hunter receives him with a gentle but tired expression on his face. It's been weeks since he had been able to shut en eye for more than three or four hours at a time.
"I've been paid to hand this personally to you, sir" the young boy says, handing him a letter first.
Hunter guesses he has recognised him by the long hair and the bandana; or the half-tattooed face. The kid waits patiently while he opens the letter.
Hunter's mind blanks while he reads the six words scribbled on it.
"Told you; you can trust me".
No signature, no name; but he knows very well who the writer is. A girl he hasn't been able to take out of his head; one he hates and loves at the same time. Misses.
Hunter can't do anything else than to stare at the kid. The young boy nods to himself, and then hands him a small bag, almost shoving it in Hunter's hands.
"Miss will be in the last tabern of the harbour until twelve" he waits to make sure his message has been listened, and then nods again. "Good night".
The boy quickly dissapears, and Hunter is left staring at the small bag in his hands. It's very light; but somehow, Hunter knows there's something inside. He can... Feel it. It's some sort of moving energy. Alive.
He takes a deep breath; preparing himself for what he could be about to find. For possible disappointments.
He slowly opens the bag.
The cristal shines almost like it is trapping the sun inside. It's the prettiest object Hunter has ever seen before; a rich amber colour mixed with orange and gold. The different tones swirl and mix inside of the cristal's walls; it... Pumps, like a heartbeat. Calm and consistent. Warm.
A tearful smile forms on Hunter's lips. This is the Moon Kyber cristal; it's real, it exists. And it's there, right in his hands. Which therefore means she hadn't really betrayed him; just carefully played her cards. She wanted her father's pendant. It hold great sentimental value to her; even if it had hurt, he'd understand. Commodoro Palpatine had probably forced her to get the Kyber for himself; and she had been left trapped between two men that wanted her skills.
Hunter thinks of how scared she must have felt. She had explained to him the story behind her scars; carved deep all around her torso when she was nothing but a young girl. A decade later, she had still shivered and trembled when Hunter touched them; when he had tried to soothe the pain away with his hands, his lips, and his tongue. She had almost cried that first time; holding her tears if only by pure stubborness. Hunter thinks on how much stress she must have gone through; knowing what fate awaited her. He smiles realising how smart she has been; taking not just one, but two fake cristals with her from the cave as well as the real one. She'd known Palpatine would believe her to be hiding the Moon Kyber; tried to trick him. So she'd fooled them all; Hunter included, because -now he realised- she needed Palpatine to see his hurt and dispair for all of it to become real. And she had done it all in silence. And won.
Maker, he loved her. She could have kept the real Kyber to herself; and yet, she had handed it to him, maybe because... Because she loved him as well.
Hunter leaves the real kyber in Tech's capable hands and walks to the tabern; the last one in Kamino's harbour, where she awaits.
You're on your second whiskey when you hear the footsteps; a hand coming to rest on your back. You know who it belongs to without even looking at him; the size of it, the splayed fingers -trying to touch as much of you as he can-, the gentle presure, the emotions that somehow seeps from it.
Hunter's voice is warm and slightly raspy; your favorite combination.
"You're hard to find".
Love and happiness burst inside of you. You know what his presence here means; what that sentence means. He has forgiven you; or at least, he's willing to try.
You turn around and study him. He's... You melt under his watch. You never thought this would happen; that you'd fall in love with another pirate.
You shoot him a soft, but playfull smile.
"Perhaps you're just bad at searching".
He smiles and hums.
The End.
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Echo is a Demon. His kind is tasked with killing. Lumi is an angel; a protector. What happens when they are both sent to the same person?
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PART 1. A HUMAN, A DEMON, AND AN ANGEL.
Angels share names in the Safe Temple. Some mean "light", some "guardians", some "peace"; and yet with this three single words, you can find so many variations. Lumi –short for Luminous–, belongs to the first bunch; her closest friend, Agnar, to the second. This three origins represent what all angels are; or at least, what they should be. That's their task, the reason of their existence. While demons only know of death and destruction, angels are beings of light; encharged of protecting those who deserve them and preserving the fragile peace in Coruss. It's not an easy task.
Lumi was five when she achieved her first rune. She was an early starter; most angels began their trainning at eight, and only the Great Angels had shown signs of their powers before such age. But Luminous had always been very persistent, perhaps almost a bit too headstrong for an angel; and her compassion and empathy had always been her greatest motivators. There had been someone who needed help; and so, five-year-old Lumi had furrowed her brow and studied the Old Books for months, trying to understand the laws of magic until she could create the rune and perform her spell. It hadn't been anything overly complicated. Just something to lift a humans spirit, make his toll a little less heavy; but it had pointed out her potencial, and decades later, Lumi had carved so many more runes in her skin she barely had any space left to spare.
That's how their magic work. You create the conections, the runes; then you sew them into your skin. Lumi's are almost a sparkling gold against her light brown tone; forming figures and criss-crossing with each other as they climb from her toes all the way up to her neck. When she uses them, they shine with a golden hue; a soft glow hugging her ethereal figure, iluminating her wings like a flash of energy. Ah, yes of course; angels do have wings. Not made out of feathers, not like a hard shell like most human believe them to be; but fragile and very thin, their strength residing in moving fast and agile more than serving as a shield. For that, angels conjure their own protective barriers; Lumi being an expert at that.
The thing about angels is that they can't voluntarily harm another being; no matter if the person in question is the most cruel they have come across or if it is one of the thousends of monsters that roam through Coruss. Their magic is only supposed to heal, to protect, to save; and so it is limited to producing shields, redirecting attacks, and blinding their enemies. Any sort of rune one can create that is meant to difuse and desescalate the situation rather than end it. The down-side to that is that those cruel beings are left alive to cause chaos another day; but well, that's not exactly an angels problem. That's what demons are for; why they exist.
If things in life often come in pairs and opossites, demons are angels perfect counterparts. They can't create, can't heal, can't bring light to someones life and make it better; they're just the final executioner, death dressed under millions of identical haunted faces, capes made of darkness, and weapons designed to not only kill, but hurt in the way. They don't posess their kind of magic. By design, demons are physically stronger, faster, more resistant; and their strength resides in those abilities along their use of the shadows and an endless list of weapons infused in various kinds of venoms and mysteries of the Underworld.
Lumi has only interacted with a demon twice; enough to make her blood ice cold and wish for the experience to not become a habit. Angels are able to sense other people emotions, aura, souls; they feed on those. The two demons Luminous happened to come across possesed such an angry rage, such an unforgiving cruelty, such darkness, that the angel could feel them crawling silently towards her like invisible fingers reaching towards her throat. She had felt crushed, almost suffocated by their presence; as for where darkness exist light can't, and viceversa.
Lost in thought, Luminous makes her way through the Safe Temple. It has been a while since the Great Angels summoned her to give her a new task. There's a kind of hierarchy between angels, even though no one dares to brag about it; they all have the same purpose, form part of the same comunity. It's just a matter of ability, really; some angels are more powerfull than others, and so they're usually reserved for more delicate, difficult missions, while the rest are sent on small everyday assignments. Everyone plays their part; and keep a delicate balance in two of the three Coruss's realms.
Lumi isn't extraordinarily powerfull. Not like the Great Angels, at least; but she is somewhat admired by her peers, having acomplished already so much by her short age. For an angel's life-span, her hundred-and-one years alive barely pulls her out of the naivety of adolescense; while at the same time, her mindset has matured and grown so much in the last decade she almost feels like a different being. Lumi is definitely not a teenager anymore; but a young spirit with her skin covered in golden runes and a fierce disposition rarely found in their kind. She almost feels excited at the possibility of a new task.
The young angel flies through the stairs of the Safe Temple; following the memorised path through the impecably white marble corridors towards the Great Salon. A guard nods towards her in a form of greeting; and seconds later, Luminous is standing in the middle of the room and being the center of attention of the five Great Angels. From left to right, sitting down on golden puffs, she quickly acknowdleges Plo Koon, Shaak Ti, Kit Fisto, Yoda, and Mace Windu; the first and last having formed part of Lumi's training. She awaits patiently for orders.
The silence in the Great Salon stretches long enough that Lumi begins to feel its weight settle across her shoulders. Lumi has never been particularly fond of waiting in silence. Her golden runes hum faintly, an unconscious reaction to her pulse quickening, and she clasps her hands together to keep them from glowing too bright. It was a problem she often had when she was a child.
It is Yoda who finally speaks.
“Too long without a mision, you have been, Luminous. Another path for you now, there is.” His voice is even, but his gaze carries something sharper—concern, perhaps, or warning.
Shaak Ti leans forward, her scarlet headdress catching the pale light. “There is one among the humans who has drawn the eyes of both realms. A scholar by the name of Anakin. He works without knowing what his hands create. He will change much, for better or worse, and we can't leave him without aid.”
Kit Fisto adds with a tilt of his head, “He is under threat. A number of dark spirits already circle him, drawn by what he carries. You will go to him, Luminous, and you will protect him.”
The young angel straightens. She's ready to get back to the field, to do some hard and rewarding work. She can take it.
“Yes, Great Angels.”
Windu raises a hand before she can bow. His dark eyes pin her in place. “You will not be the only one sent.”
For a fraction of a second, the room feels colder. Lumi doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. The Great Angels’ silence explains more than their words do. She doesn’t need to ask the question forming in her chest.
Still, it is Plo Koon -his first mentor- who confirms it, his voice low behind his mask. His patience and calmness has always been extraordinary, even within angels. You had always admired that from him.
“An Arc-demon walks the same path. His task mirrors yours, though his methods will not. He will try to eliminate Anakin, leave no risk at chance. But the human can still be saved. We trust you to give him a second chance.”
The golden runes along Lumi’s arms spark faintly at the thought. She remembers the suffocating rage that had crawled over her skin the last time she felt a demon near, how the shadows themselves seemed to whisper of violence. And yet she cannot help the flare of something else—curiosity, perhaps, beneath the dread.
The narrow alleyway was dimly lit, the walls of the surrounding buildings rising high on either side, trapping the pale light of the distant streetlamps above. The air was thick with the smell of wet stone, the distant hum of a city that never quite quieted. If one listened closely enough, one could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation floating down from the apartment above—the space where Anakin lived with his two friends, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. For the moment, all was calm.
But the calm was deceptive.
In the shadows of the alley, two figures faced one another, separated by only a few feet of cold, damp pavement. The first was Lumi, her wings wrapped tightly against her back, her luminous skin glowing faintly in the dim light. She stood still, her posture tense but graceful, her wide, gold eyes scanning her surroundings—ever watchful, ever aware of the danger that was about to unfold.
Before her stood Echo. The demon’s form was nearly a silhouette in the alley’s darkness, a tall figure cloaked in shadows, his crimson eyes gleaming from within the dark void of his hood. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and though the alley was small, it felt as though the very space between them had grown far larger in his wake.
"You’re late," Echo’s voice cut through the silence, rich with dark amusement and barely contained menace. The words fell from his lips like poison, thick with a biting edge.
Lumi didn’t move, not even to acknowledge the insult. She had no need to. She had a purpose—one far greater than engaging in mindless banter.
"I’m not here to fight you," she said, her voice steady, each word deliberate. "I’m here to protect him."
The demon let out a low chuckle, one that resonated in the narrow space between them, bouncing off the cold stone walls.
"Protect him? A lost cause?" His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his boots scraping against the gravel beneath him, sending a shiver through the air. "You’re wasting your time, Angel."
Lumi’s expression remained unshaken. She shifted slightly, instinctively placing herself between Echo and the narrow doorway to the apartment building just beyond, where Anakin remained momentarily safe with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.
"You don’t understand," she replied quietly, but firmly. "Anakin’s not lost. He has darkness in him, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s beyond saving."
Echo’s lip curled into a half-smile, though the expression was far from kind.
"You angels always think you can save everyone," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "But you’re deluded, Angel. You think your light can save him, but it won’t. The darkness in him… it’s already too deep. It’s been festering for years. He’s mine to deal with. You have no place here."
Lumi flared her wings slightly, the light from their soft, ethereal glow casting faint shadows on the alley’s walls.
"You’re wrong. I’m here to protect him," she said, her voice unwavering. "I won’t let you get to him."
For a brief moment, the demon said nothing. The quiet between them stretched on, thick and heavy with the weight of their conflict. The distant sound of footsteps from above echoed down the alley as Obi-Wan and Ahsoka moved about in their shared apartment, unaware of the dark encounter unfolding just beneath them. Humans were so fragile...
Then, slowly, Echo raised his hand, his fingers curled into a loose fist. The shadows around him seemed to bend, darkening the alley further, thickening with every passing second. The air felt colder, more suffocating.
"You really think you can stop me, don’t you?" he asked, his voice lowering to a deadly whisper as he took another step forward. His red eyes burned with an unspoken promise of destruction. "I’ve been tracking him for days. His darkness is my domain. I’ve already claimed him, whether you believe it or not. And if you stand in my way, I’ll destroy you too."
Lumi’s heart raced at his words, but she refused to be intimidated. She was an angel, and her purpose was clear. She would protect him.
"You can’t claim what doesn’t belong to you," she replied, her voice unwavering. "Anakin is not yours to take."
For a long moment, the demon's gaze remained fixed on her. A strange stillness filled the air between them. The tension was thick—both of them standing firm, unwilling to give an inch.
Finally, Echo let out a low chuckle.
"You won’t stop me," he said, his tone turning cold again. "You’ll regret standing in my way."
Lumi stood tall, unyielding, her golden eyes fixed on his.
"We’ll see," she said, her voice calm but resolute. "Perhaps it'll be you the one to regret it."
Echo’s gaze was firm, unwavering, as he studied her closely, sensing the intensity in her stance. He was trying to break her, to force her to back off, but the angel didn’t flinch. Her emotions were bubbling inside of her, a mixture of anger, frustration, and a growing sense of something deeper—something that wasn’t going to be shaken.
His lips curled into a cold, almost amused smile as he took a small step closer, his eyes narrowing.
"Mm. Can’t remember seeing a furious angel before," he mused, his voice low and teasing. "Are you sure you’re not a fallen one, pretty angel? Wouldn’t surprise me to see one of yours failing to do their task again. More work for me, huh?"
Lumi’s eyes flashed with shock, the words cutting deeper than she expected. She was momentarily stunned by the weight of what he’d implied, but it was enough to send her temper flaring. Her teeth clenched, and she snapped back, the words tumbling out with more force than she intended.
"There are different types of protectiveness," she shot back, her voice sharp and full of defiance. "We’re not all the same like you fucking demon clones. And you wouldn’t have more work to do if you didn’t attribute ours."
Echo’s expression shifted, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’ll be back for this one, Angel," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "We'll see each other again."
Without another word, the demon turned, disappearing into the shadows from which he’d emerged, his presence leaving the air thick with his dark energy.
Lumi stood still for a long moment, the silence swallowing the alley as she watched him vanish. Her wings slowly folded in against her back, the light dimming just slightly. She let out a breath, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. The encounter had shaken her more than she cared to admit.
The space between her and Anakin—just a few floors above—felt impossibly vast now, and the burden of her task weighed heavily on her. But she wasn’t going to back down. She would stop the demon from hurting him.
Anakin hadn’t slept since that night. The dreams hadn’t stopped, only sharpened—visions of ash and feathers, of burning eyes and cold hands reaching for him in the dark. Even in waking hours, something stalked just outside his perception. He’d stopped mentioning it to Obi-Wan or Ahsoka. What could he even say? That something was hunting him? He didn’t believe it himself.
But Lumi did.
She stayed close now, never fully revealing herself, but always there. An unseen warmth that hovered at the edge of his consciousness—a gentle shield whenever his thoughts turned too dark. She walked rooftops in silence, her light dimmed to avoid drawing attention. Her eyes never left him. Not since the alley.
And she knew he was watching too. Echo.
He hadn’t made another approach, but she could feel him—like the chill left by a storm cloud creeping across the sky. The demon’s presence lingered. He was patient. Calculating. Waiting for her guard to drop, for Anakin to break. She couldn’t let that happen.
And yet, every night it was a game of shadows. Anakin tossing in his bed. Lumi, posted just beyond his window ledge, wings wrapped tight. And somewhere below, Echo—lurking, watching, biding.
Until the attack came.
It started as a tremor.
Lumi felt it before she saw it—a rippling, unnatural energy pulsing through the city like a distant heartbeat. She turned sharply toward the alley behind the apartment, narrowing her eyes. Something was coming.
A heartbeat later, the monster revealed itself—tall, sinewy, more smoke than flesh, its form shifting like ink underwater. Its eyes glowed the color of dried blood, and its mouth stretched open in a silent, impossible scream. It was hunting. And it had found him.
Lumi dropped from the rooftop like a blade of light, hitting the pavement hard. Her wings flared, throwing up a barrier just as the creature lunged at Anakin’s window.
The beast collided with her shield, snarling as it twisted in the air. It slashed at the barrier again and again, each impact echoing like a bell toll. Lumi gritted her teeth, golden runes glowing as she fought to hold the line.
“Stay back!” she hissed, light lashing out from her fingertips, trying to push the thing away.
But it was relentless. The creature didn’t stop. It slammed against her shield —and again—and again. Each hit chipped away at her shield.
Lumi grit her teeth and pushed forward, wings flaring again, this time unleashing a burst of radiant force that sent the Rak’hir tumbling into the alley wall.
Her breathing was ragged now. Her energy was draining fast.
The beast recovered faster than she expected.
It came at her again—its limbs blurring, claws slashing. Lumi blocked the first, dodged the second, but the third caught her across the ribs, tearing fabric and drawing blood.
She cried out but didn’t fall. She staggered back, summoned a sharp flash of light to stun the monster, then launched a forceful pulse that cracked the pavement beneath it.
It wasn’t enough.
The Rak’hir shrieked and slammed her back against the wall. Her right wing crumpled against the stones. She coughed, gasped—but still pushed forward, raising a trembling hand to summon another shield.
Her light flickered. Fear —one she hadn't felt in a lifetime, swallowed her. Was this going to be her end?
Just as the creature reared for a final strike—
He appeared.
A spear of shadow sliced through the air, hitting the beast square in the side and slamming it into the floor.
Echo stepped from the shadows like death itself. His red eyes burned.
He was all sharp lines and dark energy, his cloak moving like smoke around him. He didn’t look at Lumi—he didn’t need to. His entire focus was on the Rak’hir.
"You shouldn’t be here," he growled to the creature, voice low and lethal.
The Rak’hir roared in response, but it was already backing away.
Echo advanced.
The shadows around him twisted and thickened, forming jagged weapons, chains, and dark spikes that slashed through the alley with precision. The Rak’hir fought back, shrieking and thrashing, warping its body to avoid his attacks.
Lumi, still breathing hard, forced herself upright. She didn’t trust the demon —not fully— but she wasn’t going to let him fight it alone.
With what strength she had left, she lifted her arms and threw out a shimmering arc of protective light toward Echo, catching one of the beast’s stray limbs before it could hit him.
He didn’t glance back—but he felt it. And for a moment, their movements synced.
Lumi sent bursts of golden force between his strikes, shielding his exposed side with radiant barriers when the beast moved too fast. Echo, in turn, drove the monster back with vicious blows—each one drawing more smoke, more shrieks, more darkness.
They moved together—light and shadow, clashing and complementing, two forces never meant to coexist, fighting as one.
Lumi’s energy was nearly gone. Her vision blurred at the edges, but she kept going. She unleashed a final blinding flare directly into the creature’s many eyes. It screamed—stunned for just long enough.
Echo seized the opening.
He leapt high, shadows coiling around his arms like armor, and slammed down with the force of a collapsing void. The creature buckled, then shattered into smoke and ash. It dissipated quickly; the darkness then inmediately reabsorbed.
The alley fell silent.
Lumi exhaled shakily, the effort of maintaining her stance draining the last of her strength. Her legs finally gave out beneath her. She collapsed to the ground, knees hitting first, then hands, then nothing at all.
Her glow dimmed. Blood ran freely from the gash at her side.
Echo turned, breathing heavily, his face pale and drawn—but still standing. He walked to her and knelt slowly.
She was still conscious—barely. Her eyes met his, cloudy with pain.
“You protected me” he murmured, almost to himself. “You protected a demon.”
Her eyes fluttered, barely open.
“I can’t help someone who can’t be saved,” she breathed, just a whisper now. “I guess… there’s good inside you, too.”
And with that, her body went still.
Echo sat there for a long moment, his hand hovering inches above her cheek. Then he reached out—trembling slightly—and brushed her skin with the back of his fingers. More curious than confused, more admiration than hate.
Soft. Warm. Still alive.
He clenched his jaw, stood, and lifted her into his arms.
He didn’t know what he was doing. Only that he couldn’t leave her to die there.
Echo’s grip on Lumi was firm but gentle, carrying her unconscious form through the winding paths of his realm. Shadows clung to the jagged spires and twisting streets like living smoke, eyes glinting from the darkness as if every corner held a watcher. The air was thick, heavy with heat and the faint scent of brimstone. Every step was a reminder that they were far from the world the angel knew—a place where their counterparts belonged.
“You can’t be serious,” hissed a familiar voice behind him. Fives stepped forward, eyes blazing with distrust. “You’re bringing an angel here? Into our world?”
Echo’s jaw tightened, his eyes sharp and unyielding. “She’s been wounded by a Rak’hir. This is the only place where I can attempt to draw out the darkness he inflicted in her safely.”
Tension sparked in the air. Fives sighed, still thinking this was not the best course of action and wondering why his brother was risking it all for someone who probably despised him and their kin.
“…if Palpatine finds out, we’re all dead.”
Echo’s jaw clenched, his darkness pulsing around him.
“Then he’ll never know.” His words were calm, but the weight behind them made the air tremble.
Without another word, he carried Lumi through an imposing archway and into a chamber hidden deep within the twisting labyrinth of his home. The faint glow of molten rock traced intricate, alien patterns across the floor. It was beautiful in a terrifying way.
Echo laid the unconscious angel down carefully on the dark, cushioned bed in the center of the room. Hours passed in silence, save for the faint hum of the demon realm beyond. Lumi’s eyelids fluttered occasionally, but her injuries and exhaustion kept her in a deep, dreamless sleep. Outside, the demons prawled and whispered, but inside this room, a fragile bubble of quiet held her.
When she finally stirred, a gasp tore from her throat. Her eyes opened to darkness softened by the dim glow of the chamber. Shadows danced along the walls, casting strange, shifting shapes that made her heart pound. Slowly, panic crept in as realization settled over her: she was an angel—alone—in the demon realm.
Every muscle ached, both of her wings trembled. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her breaths shallow. She swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed. Her heart pounded in her ears—not just from exhaustion, but from the reality of where she was. Her mind raced, imagining what could be waiting just beyond the room, in the vast, shadowed halls. She tried to steady herself.
Echo was there, kneeling beside her, eyes dark and unreadable but holding a strange, steady calm.
“You’re safe, Angel” he said softly, perhaps sensing her fear, his voice low and measured. “But I need you to stay here. Do not leave this room.”
Her gaze flitted around, and then back to him. Why am I here? Can I trust him? Or has he trapped me? Is he planning something else? Each thought collided with the memory of the pain she had endured outside, and the undeniable reality that he had saved her.
The demon's hands hovered above her, careful not to touch unless necessary. His jaw was tight, emotions pressed down, contained. He had to leave soon—there was work he could not ignore—but he could not leave her unprotected.
“Stay inside. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone” he ordered, firm but not unkind. “Just rest until I get back”.
Lumi nodded, fear and caution warring with the fragile thread of trust she felt toward him. Her body was weak, her wings ached, but she did not move from the bed. She watched as he stepped back, jaw clenched, eyes flicking once toward her before he vanished into the shadows.
Alone, the weight of the demon realm pressed in on her. The walls seemed to breathe, the shadows whispering secrets she could not understand. Fear, doubt, and a strange flicker of gratitude swirled inside her. Did he bring me here just because I helped him? Is he trying to pay me back? Why did he even step in against the monster in the first place? Why not... Let it kill me, then kill Anakin himself? What does he want from me?
Every sense was heightened—the faint heat from the walls, the low hum of energy in the air, the darkness around her. And yet, even in that terror, a part of her recognized something… protective. Something that told her she might survive this place. But survival, she realized, came at the cost of trust—and she was not sure if she was ready to trust him.
The door shut with a low thud, sealing Echo’s presence out of the room. For a long moment, Lumi sat frozen, staring at the carved patterns on the stone as though they might shift again and reveal some hidden threat.
Silence pressed down on her, thick and heavy. Only the low hum of the walls remained, a deep vibration she felt in her bones. Her golden runes ached faintly on her skin, the faintest flicker of light tracing across them—like her body was fighting the foreign shadows still coursing inside her.
He told me to stay. To rest.
Her chest tightened. Her instinct screamed at her to move, to run, to find light again. But what good would it do? She was in the heart of the demon realm. Even if she escaped the room, there were corridors filled with shadows, millions of demons breathing the same air. They would notice her immediately—her wings, her light, her very soul would betray her.
Her hands trembled as she pulled her knees to her chest, wings wrapping around herself like a cocoon. “Why here?” she whispered into the dimness. “Why did he bring me here?”
The question gnawed at her. Every angel had been taught demons were merciless—executioners designed to kill. But Echo… Had looked at her differently. Not with hunger, not with scorn, but with something closer to… resolve. Determination. Maybe even a flicker of concern.
Her pulse quickened at the thought, and she shook her head sharply. No. He’s a demon. They can’t care. They can’t…
Still, the memory of his voice lingered—steady, low, almost grounding. The protective stance and grip on her. That truth—the posibiliy of demon's being more than the evil tales she had always heard, unsettled her almost more than the shadows themselves.
Minutes crawled by, the voices outside fading. She sagged back onto the bed, trembling, the weight of her fear pressing down like a mountain.
She hated it. The fear. The helplessness. She was an angel—she was supposed to be a guardian, a shield. Yet here she was, hiding in the dark, depending on a demon. Was Anakin even okay?
Her thoughts tangled, a storm of contradiction. He brought me here to save me. He’s the reason I’m breathing. But if he wanted to hurt me, he couldn’t have chosen a crueler prison.
Hours crept by in silence. Lumi had no way of telling time here; there was no sun, no familiar rhythm of light and shadow, only the constant hum of the walls and the faint glow of her own runes whenever she lost focus on suppressing them.
She shifted on the bed, wincing at the dull ache in her side where the monster’s venom lingered. Echo had patched her wound, but she felt weak still. It would probably take a few days of rest to feel okay.
Her gaze wandered around the room, hesitant at first, then with growing curiosity. She had expected the living space of a demon to be cold, barren, perhaps littered with weapons or bones. Instead, the chamber felt… personal.
The walls were carved stone, yes, but smoothed with care, lined with shelves. On them rested small things: trinkets of dark metal, strange stones that pulsed with a muted glow—Lumi didn't think it served any purpose other than purely decorational, scrolls tied neatly with black cord. There was a blade propped in the corner, its edge etched with runes she didn’t recognize, yet it wasn’t displayed like a trophy—more like a tool set aside after use.
Her eyes caught on something stranger still. A strip of parchment pinned above the desk, covered in handwriting. Notes, sketches… diagrams of runes. Demon runes. The sight made her breath hitch. Their scripts weren’t supposed to resemble hers, yet here—though rougher, sharper—she saw patterns that mirrored angelic wards. Almost like Echo had been… studying.
Her fingers itched to trace them, but she forced herself still. Don’t. Don’t touch. Don’t even think it.
She tore her gaze away, focusing on the bed again. Her wings curled tighter around her as the unease in her chest grew. Every angel was taught the same truth: demons had no desire for knowledge, only destruction. Yet Echo’s room whispered of order, of restraint, of someone who did not entirely fit the mold she had been warned about. Of someone who wanted more than what had been first assigned to him.
That contradiction unsettled her more than anything.
Another faint noise drifted through the walls—a heavy step, a muffled growl, voices speaking in low tones. She swallowed hard, remaining in complete silence—almost holding off her breathing, until the sound—the danger, passed.
Lumi exhaled and layed back down on the bed. The room was suffocating, both prison and sanctuary. And she was caught in between—fear gnawing at her, mistrust anchoring her down, yet curiosity and hope creeping in, slow and dangerous like the shadows themselves.
The door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the walls. Lumi flinched, her breath catching as she sat upright on the bed. Echo stepped in, shadows trailing after him like smoke, his chest heaving with the rough rhythm of someone who had just been fighting—or killing. His black clothes were streaked with dark stains, and his hands trembled faintly, curling into fists as though he hadn’t yet come down from the surge of battle.
For a moment he didn’t even look at her, only braced his palms against the table as though the wood was the only thing keeping him upright. Then his eyes snapped to her, sharp and cutting.
“I see you actually stayed,” he said flatly, voice rough, lined with exhaustion.
Lumi swallowed. Her runes itched faintly under her skin, glowing soft gold in response to her unease. “You told me to,” she answered, steady but quiet, cautious.
Echo gave a humorless snort, shaking his head. “I wasn't sure if you'd listen. After all, angels have been ignoring demons for lifetimes.”
The words stung, and a part of her wanted to bite the bait and protest, but she forced herself to push past them. She studied him, the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders twitched like he was still braced for a fight.
“What kind of work leaves you like this?” she asked carefully, nodding toward the stains on his long-sleeved shirt, the restless edge to his movements. “You escaped mostly untouched from the Rak'hir, and that's a powerfull dark spirit. What can possibly...?”
His gaze flicked to her, dangerous now, like she had stepped over a line. “Rak'hirs, powerfull spirits?” he laughed, dry and humourless, his facial expresions hardening instantly. “They're a playground compared to some of the monsters that roam human realm. The evil and darkness we can't kill in time can group and transform into really terrifying things. Anakin's will for sure, it's already begging to be released from that tiny fragile human body.”
The angel ignored the pun, still reluctant to believe what the demon claimed. She had seen light in the young man herself and she just knew he could be saved.
Echo turned away as if to put distance between them.
Luminous pressed on, her voice firmer this time. She was tired of wondering. She wanted answers. “Why did you help me, then? It doesn't make sense. You could’ve left me to die. You'd have free way for Anakin then. Isn’t that what a demon’s supposed to do?”
For a long moment, silence thickened in the small room. Echo’s back was to her, broad and unmoving, but she could see his hands clenching tighter, shadows curling around his wrists like they were drawn to his anger. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, almost bitter:
“Don’t mistake this for kindness.” He turned just enough that his dark red eyes found hers, gleaming faintly in the gloom. “I didn’t save you for your sake. I did it because…” His jaw tightened, the words strangled before they could leave. “…Because letting that poison win would’ve been worse.”
The edge in his voice was sharp enough to cut, and Lumi felt a tremor run down her spine. Standing there now, shadows whispering at his heels and anger radiating from every movement, Echo looked every bit the demon her kind had warned her about.
When he stepped forward toward her, she had to fight the impulse to back up on the bed. The demon's expresion looked murderous; barely controlled enough to hide his hunger to kill. Lumi was suddenly reminded of how vulnerable she was here; not recovered enough to use her runes at her full potential and surrounded by demons who would have no remorse to kill her.
“You don't even know how a Rak'hir's venom works, do you?” he lowered himself down so he was sitting in the edge of the bed, so close Lumi could feel the expanding cold of the shadows playing around him. “The venom it inflicts is the real reason why one should be carefull with that monster. It's not the fact that it can kill you; it's that it will turn anything it infects with part of his soul, evil and darkness that will consume everything until the possibly kind creature you once were is no longer there.”
He was so close to her face now, his features so alive with that burning anger, that Lumi couldn't try to look anywhere else. She was almost mesmerised by his danger.
Echo showed her a tiny, cruel smirk.
“There's a little lie your dear Great Angels have been telling you since your soul was sharpened into form, Luminous. Because at the beginning of the three realms, demons weren't born simultaneously to angels, oh no. Palpatine, the Demon King, was once an angel too, just like Yoda or any of the other Great ones; and it was a hoard of Rak'hir who changed him, poisoned him with centuries of evilness and darkness until no light remained. Until the first Demon was shaped into humanoid form.”
At the shocked expresion of the pretty angel's face, Echo chuckled, finally backing away and standing at the feet of the bed, letting her breathe in the new space. Adrenaline still pounded through his veins, and he made an effort to keep his emotions at bay.
“You can take a read about the actual truth of our origins if you like, Angel” he pointed to one of the shelves pressed against the stone wall and fake smiled “Top shelve, it's the third one to the left.”
The demon dissapeared into the bathroom.
Lumi read, and her world tilted on it's edge again.
Luminous sat cross-legged on Echo’s floor, the book open in her lap, its pages smelling faintly of dust and old ink. She traced the letters with her finger, though her mind wasn’t really on the words—it was on what they revealed.
The origins of demons. According to the book, the first demon had once been an angel, radiant and whole, until a horde of rak’hirs twisted it into something dark, something vengeful, feeding on his light for decades until it extinguished. Everything about it—the anger, the cruelty, the relentless hunger—was the product of that torment. Palpatine had then used a human woman to propagate that same corruption, creating the first generations of demon clones.
Lumi’s chest tightened. She had read it all, absorbed the details, but her mind kept circling back to the same questions. Why had the Great Angels hidden this truth from them? Was it to keep them from fearing monsters, to make them fight without hesitation, without the fear of ending like demons? Or was it… worse? To keep them from feeling? From seeing demons as beings capable of inflicting more than pain or death, from having compassion, from understanding them?
She left the book on it's shelve again and layed down on the demon's bed, gaze fixed on the stone ceiling above her. When Echo came out of the shower, he was quiet too; the anger he had felt before seemingly having dissipated with the blood and sweat.
Lumi’s fingers tightened around the edge of the bed. She wanted to speak, to test the waters, but every word felt heavy, laden with more than just apology. She was still confused, too; too many thoughts and changes to process.
Finally, when Echo settled beside her on the bed, both of them silent, Lumi let her voice slip out, tentative, almost fragile.
“Echo… I’m sorry.”
Echo turned slightly to look at her. His expression was unreadable for a long moment, just the faintest crease between his brows.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “For what happened. Or for… anything you can’t control. I might have over reacted with the adrenaline I still carried from the outside.”
Lumi’s chest tightened further, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to tell him everything—the doubts, the fear, the sorrow for the first demon, about how maybe, just maybe, they could create the first angel/demon alliance—but she didn’t know if she could put it into words. Not yet.
“I just…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers twisted in the edge of the blanket. “…I don’t know how to feel about all of it. About them. About what the angels hid, if that book holds the truth. About… You. And everything.”
Echo shifted slightly closer, the movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. Enough to let her know he was there, not judging, not pressing, just… present.
“You'll figure it out,” he murmured. “One step at a time.”
Lumi’s lips twitched, a faint, tentative smile breaking through. She let herself lean just a little, her shoulder brushing his. The heaviness in her chest didn’t vanish, but it felt… lighter. Shared.
The Safe Temple seemed like a distant memory now. Days had passed since the Rak’hir’s venom had torn through Lumi’s veins, leaving her trembling and hollow, her light flickering like a candle in the wind. She was improving—her glow had steadied, the pain had ebbed—but Echo had warned her time and again: the darkness still nested inside her, buried deep where her runes could not reach. To remove it too soon would be reckless, he said. If done wrong, the extraction could shatter her soul, corrupt her light, or worse—leave her somewhere in between, neither angel nor demon, lost in an endless void.
And so she waited, healing slowly under the unspoken truce of his protection. She did not belong here, in the Demon Realm, but Echo had hidden her well. For now.
That night, she heard him before she saw him.
The door burst open with a slam, shaking the room’s frame. Echo strode inside, his steps heavy, his presence darker than usual. His eyes burned with that unsettling shade of red, wild with leftover adrenaline, and his skin was streaked with blood—some his own, some not. An unstelling painting of red and black.
Lumi froze, not knowing what to do about it.
Echo didn’t look at her. Didn’t say a word. He went straight for the bathroom. Another slam, sharper than the first. She heard the rush of the tap, water running then cut short, the harsh thud of fabric angrily hitting the floor, the creak of pipes as the shower roared to life.
Then silence.
No— not silence. The muted thump of his head hitting the tile. Then two smaller ones, perhaps his clenched fists resting against the shower walls too. Water pounding down, drowning everything except the steady ache in her chest. It was just in her being the need to comfort and help; and she had never done a good job at ignoring the chance to do so.
Lumi sat there, hands tangled in her lap, the book she had been reading now abandoned in the bed, her wings pressed tightly to her back. She wanted to ask, wanted to whisper through the door if he was alright—but fear and caution kept her quiet. If she interrupted him, reminded him that she was technically an enemy... Would he snap back?
Minutes passed, only the hiss of water and the echo of her own heartbeat filling the air. She was on her way to standing up, bare feet brushing the cold stone floor, when the shower cut off. Her breath caught.
The door opened, steam curling out into the room like smoke. Echo stepped into the dim light, bare-chested, only a pair of dark pants clinging to his frame. Droplets of water still ran down his skin, tracing lines between scars—scars upon scars, old ones faded into silver and pink, newer ones raw and red, layered over his chest, his arms, his sides. Battle written into his body like scripture.
Lumi gasped before she could stop herself. Not loud, but enough for the demon to hear her. A sound of shock, of pain that wasn’t hers but might as well have been. He looked... Broken, and yet, so very much alive.
Echo’s gaze flicked to her. Just for a heartbeat; as if he had suddenly remembered he had brought an angel to his own very room in Demon Realm. He scanned her, quick, sharp, making sure she was unharmed—then turned away as if it meant nothing. He crossed the room, shoulders heavy, movements rigid, and collapsed onto the bed beside her.
“Night" he muttered flatly, already rolling to face the wall and not the concerned, anxious expresion on her face. With a flick of his hand, the light went out, plunging the room into quiet shadow.
But Lumi still glowed. Not brightly—just a soft, fragile shimmer, her runes humming faintly against her skin. She lay still, watching the broad expanse of his back.
That was when she saw them for the first time.
Runes. But not like hers—hers flowed in elegant curves, gold threaded with light, each mark crafted with nurturing purpose. His were jagged, sharp, carved deep into his flesh as though angrily torn rather than carefully drawn. Dark purple, crisscrossing one another, their sharpness biting into his skin even in stillness. Not quite similar to the ones she had seen on the parchment on his desk before; those looked somewhere in between.
She stared, her breath shallow, a thousand thoughts colliding in her mind. Questions. Wonder. A quiet ache she didn’t want to name.
He carried scars she couldn’t even begin to count. He was a demon. And yet, sleeping there in the same bed—he just felt like a man. A tired, and troubled man.
He had fought monsters she couldn't even begin to name and still he slept with his back turned, as if imaginary walls between them were safer than facing the worry in her face.
She wanted to ask him. Wanted to whisper his name into the silence, to bridge the endless distance of the few inches between their bodies.
But when she parted her lips, no sound came out.
Because what would she even say? I’m sorry for your scars? Do you want to talk? I don’t know why I don’t hate you? None of it seemed right. None of it felt safe.
So she stayed quiet. His name lingered on her tongue, heavy as a prayer she couldn’t admit she wanted to make.
The exhausted demon soon fell to the tempting, numbing comfort of sleep; but Lumi layed there, glowing faintly in the dark, unable to tear her eyes of the demon's back. A map of purple runes and scars.
The days pass in a strange rhythm. Small conversations here and there, brief moments when silence feels almost companionable. Lumi is healing—slowly, her light returning, though Echo insists it isn’t time yet.
“You won’t stay here forever, you know that, right?” he says one evening, voice quiet, steady, while she fusses with the thin blanket over her lap.
Her anxious glance softens.
“You’ll just need a week more or two, probably” Echo continues, eyes sliding away, “and you’ll be safe to go.”
A warm, genuine smile spreads across her lips. “Thank you, Echo.”
He only gives a short nod, already turning away to implant his imaginary wall. “Good night, angel.”
Another night comes. Luminous waits, watching the door, hours dragging with no sign of the demon returning. Trapped inside this room, Echo is her anchor to sanity. The only thing to entertain herself with beside his collection of books -which Lumi had already gone through half of the shelves-. Her anxiety grows heavier with each minute. A difficult mission? A fight? Has someone discovered her? What if—
The door finally creaks open.
Echo stumbles in, dark eyes dimmer than usual. His chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. He looks seconds away from unconsciousness; the worst shape the angel had ever seen him in.
“Echo—! What-what happened?” Lumi rushes forward, reaching him just before he collapses against the wall.
He groans, stumbling forward with her pannicked aid and fumbling for the small med kit in the bathroom. “Crassar… spines… Need—need you to pull them out.”
Echo winces when he takes his soaked shirt off. Lumi's eyes widen, horrified at the sight of jagged dark spines lodged deep into his side and shoulder. Realisation hits her and she whispers in doubt “…That’ll rip part of your skin off.”
His hands shake as he forces the kit open, jaw clenched. “I-I know. Don’t care. If they stay, they’ll rot the tissue—infect it, then sink into my blood vessels. The longer we wait, the worse it’ll get. I need you to take them out.”
Lumi hesitates. This will hurt like hell. It'll be... bloody. Almost like torture. But he needs it. It's... a different brand of help than the one she is used to offer, but help nonetheless. And she has always had a backbone for tough things.
Her voice steadies, firm with quiet resolve. “Okay. Turn around and sit down. Put a towel in your mouth.”
Echo obeys with a grunt, lowering himself to the floor in front of her. He shoves a folded towel between his teeth, body tense and ready for pain.
Lumi readies the tweezers, her own hands shaking as she steadies the jar for the spines. Her breath hitches. And then, in contradiction- “Breathe.”
He inhales, and the angel grips the first spine. She takes a second to center herself. Then, with a sharp pull, it tears free -at the cost of some of Echo's mostly superficial skin.
A muffled cry is released against the towel, Echo’s entire frame shaking involuntarily with the pain. His fists clench, knuckles white. Eyelids shut holding back tears.
Lumi blinks back her own, swallowing hard. She doesn’t stop. She can't, even if she wants to. She swallows down, and one by one, she extracts the spines, the sound of tearing flesh filling the small room. Each whimper that escapes him cuts through her chest, but she pushes on.
“I’m sorry” she whispers, again and again, words like a prayer as her eyes brim. “I’m sorry, Echo… just a little more.”
Finally, the last spine clatters into the jar. Echo is shaking, drenched in sweat and trails of blood, breath ragged.
Lumi sets the tools aside quickly, scooping balm from the medkit into her hands. She spreads it carefully over the wounds, then closes her eyes, voice trembling as she murmurs healing runes under her breath. The faint glow of her light seeps into his skin, calming the burn, slowing the bleeding. Numbing the pain.
His body sags with exhaustion and desperately needed relief, half-conscious.
“Let’s help you to bed now, Echo,” she says softly, guiding him with steady arms outside of the bathroom.
He stumbles but lets her lead him. His lips twitch into something like a broken smile. “M’filthy. Going to stain everything.”
A breathless laugh escapes her, wet with relief. “We’ll survive. You need rest more than you need to look immaculately menacing, you know.”
She settles him onto the bed. As she tucks the blanket around him, he turns his head, eyes half-lidded but sharp enough to catch the shine of a tear sliding down her cheek.
“…Why are you crying, little angel?”
Her lips tremble into a smile. She kneels beside him, brushing his damp forehead, her touch feather-light with care. “I might be growing fond of you, Echo... You’re not all bad. You scare me sometimes—all that hate and coldness inside you. But… there’s also a quiet kindness. A warmth you seem to be oh so persistent to hide.”
The demon's eyes flicker, unreadable. They don't look as terrifying as she once thought they did. “…You’ve stayed too long down here. It’s evidently affecting your judgment.”
Her smile softens further, her thumb tracing gently across his temple. “Mm. Better not tell anyone, then. Sleep, Echo.”
He exhales slowly, the fight finally draining from his body, and lets himself fall into unconsciousness.
Lumi stays at his side, her hand still resting in his hair. Her thoughts swirl—dangerous, forbidden, but undeniable. Something is changing. In him. In her. The line between them blurring, impossible to ignore. If she's getting lost, she's not sure she wants to be found.
Echo came and went, sometimes returning whole, sometimes wounded, always carrying with him the heavy air of battles Lumi could only imagine. Yet in between, in the quiet of his room, something fragile began to form.
Amicable respect. Tentative conversation.
Lumi noticed first. The way his skin seemed less ashen than when she’d first woken in his world, the cold cast to him softening as though warmth was returning where once there had been only frost. Sometimes, when he didn’t think she was watching, the tension in his shoulders eased, as if the presence of another being —even an angel, a supposed enemy— dulled some unseen weight.
It began with small questions.
Her: “Do you… have dreams?”
Him, after a pause: “Not of things remotely realistic.”
Then his, equally hesitant: “What’s your realm like?”
Her smile, faint but true: “Endless. Bright. Warm.”
They shared fragments — shards of memory, of places neither could visit in their own on the other’s realm without tearing the world in half. And though their words were careful, veiled, each answer laid a stone on a bridge neither had intended to build.
Yet beneath Echo’s quiet voice, beneath this growing, temptative friendship, his thoughts churned.
He should not enjoy this. Not her laughter, soft though it was. Not her gaze, gentle even when wary. Angels were hypocrites draped in light. They had abandoned demons to claw through centuries of blood and evilness alone. Where angels refused to strike, demons bore the burden — slaying men too cruel to let live, monsters and spirits too vile to deserve mercy. They did the work angels deemed themselves too holy to touch.
And for that, demons were called evil. Condemned. Forsaken.
Echo knew this truth as surely as he knew the scars carved into his flesh. Hatred had guided him, sharpened him, kept him standing when all else threatened to break.
But now…
Lumi’s presence unraveled him in ways he hadn’t thought possible.
When she asked about his battles, he wanted to tell her. When she looked at him without fear — or worse, with pity — he wanted to shake her, to remind her that he was born of darkness, that her kind had no right to see anything else. That each of them had their own side of the balance to keep. And yet, when her hand brushed his once by accident, when her light seemed to warm the air itself, something in him tightened, something old and restless and dangerous. Something he barely remembered feeling from when he was a child and had first felt at the sight of his twin, Fives.
She should be his enemy.
Instead, she was becoming a tether.
At night, when she dozed beside him, he found himself often shifting from his usual resting position on his side to stare at her, replaying her words in his head. “You’re not all bad… there’s also a quiet kindness, and warmth.”
Kindness. Warmth. Words meant for another –for angels–, not for him. And yet they burrowed deep, defying the very hatred that had defined his existence.
He hated her for it.
And at the same time, he wasn’t sure what he’d do without it. Those words... Were the hope for Echo's very unrealistic dreams. For the mix of purple and golden runes that were scribbled on the parchments on his desks; the ones he had secretly being working on for decades. His hope.
The days bled into nights, and nights into more of that strange rhythm they had fallen into. Lumi felt herself healing — her ribs no longer screamed every time she moved, her glow had grown steadier, but there was something off. Subtle at first. Her laugh sometimes rang a little sharper than intended, her patience was thinner, and she caught herself feeling surges of irritation that weren’t… her. Her warmth flickered, like a candle threatened by a constant draft.
She didn’t say it aloud, but Echo knew. He had been watching closely — too closely. He saw the way her light faltered in odd pulses, the faint tremors beneath her skin. He knew that poison. He knew it like his own blood.
One evening, after another long day where he had returned battered and she had patched him up in silence, he didn’t lay down right away. He stood at the edge of the room, eyes unreadable, jaw set hard as if bracing himself for a storm.
“It’s time,” he finally said. His voice was low, rough, almost reluctant.
Lumi curled up in the blankets, blinked at him. “Time for what?”
His eyes, dark and endless, flicked toward her ribcage, to the hidden wound beneath. “For me to take it out. The darkness. If we wait longer, it’ll root too deep. It’ll change you.”
Her breath caught. She had felt it. That shadow that didn’t belong to her. Her hand instinctively touched her ribs, as if she could stop the poison from invading her with that. “What happens if you don’t?” she whispered, though part of her didn’t want the answer.
“You’ll turn,” Echo said bluntly, voice like stone. But something flickered in his gaze — something fragile and dangerous. “You won’t be you anymore. You’ll… belong here. With us. With me.”
The words tasted wrong on his tongue. Temptation laced every syllable. The thought of her falling — of her light burning out and becoming dark like his — had haunted him these nights. A part of him wanted it. Wanted her bound to his realm forever, no angel watching, no heaven to claim her. Just him. Just them.
But that wouldn’t be Lumi. Not the Lumi who smiled despite fear, not the Lumi who touched his scars like they weren’t something vile. Not the Lumi with endless compasion and empathy. If she turned, she’d be gone. Her smiles wouldn't be warm, but cold. Her delicate expresions would churn with the burning rage of hate an anger.
He clenched his jaw, fighting the quiet ache that settled in his chest. He couldn't let the voice inside of him that screamed and begged to let the poison take it's route win.
When he crossed the room, his steps were heavy, his aura bristling with restrained power. Lumi’s heart raced, unsure if it was fear or something else. Unbeknowns to him, a similar trace of thoughts swarm inside of her own mind.
He knelt beside her, and rested a hand over the scar that marked her ribs.
“This will hurt,” he warned.
She nodded faintly, searching his face. “I trust you”.
That cracked something inside him.
His fingers pressed into her skin, his power seeping through. She gasped — not eaxctly in pain, but in shock at the pull. It was like icy chains ripping out roots that had latched into her very soul. The venom twisted, screamed, resisted. Lumi’s back arched, breath trembling as shadows coiled out of her, threads of darkness drawn to Echo’s hand.
He absorbed them all. Every drop. Every thorn of venom that had tried to corrupt her, he dragged into himself. And the moment it touched him, he felt it — the sweetest intoxication. A rush of power and something more dangerous, like tasting stolen light mingled with the familiar poison of his kind. It was bliss. It was ruin. It was hers. And it burned.
He gritted his teeth, forcing the pain down. He shoved what the Rak'hir had inflicted her with deep, locking it away inside the endless cavern of his own darkness.
Lumi slumped back against the pillows, drenched in sweat, chest heaving. The wound at her ribs stopped throbbing — it felt clean again. A weight she hadn't even noticed at first suddenly lifted from her spirit. She was safe.
Echo pulled his hands back, trembling, a faint purple haze flickering across his runes as he whispered hoarsely, “It’s done.”
When she looked at him, she didn’t see just a demon. She saw someone who had just given up the very thing his kind thrived on, just so she could stay herself.
Lumi’s heart ached, swelled, overflowed. She reached for him, her hand delicate against the rough line of his strong jaw.
“Thank you” she answered in a heartfelt whisper.
Lumi knew how hard that must have been to him. Not just the physical aspect of that extraction; but the will to do so. To not let the dangerous thoughts win. To let her keep being herself; even if it would make things more difficult to him.
For a long moment, Echo only stared, caught between resignment and a raw ache that felt like a wound. He had only felt that towards Fives before; love.
“Let's get some sleep in” he murmured quietly, the moment vulnerable. “I think we both need it.”
Echo didn't show Lumi his back that night. They slept face to face; staring silently at each other until sleep came.
The night was heavy, almost liquid in its stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of movement outside. Shadows coiled and shifted in the room, thin tendrils of darkness twisting like smoke in the angel's soft light. Echo trembled in his sleep, fingers clenching the sheets, lips parting in quiet whimpers. A shiver ran down his spine, subtle but unmistakable.
Lumi’s eyes snapped open. Her heart pounded, skin prickling with fear, yet instinct drove her forward. She leapt over him, hands outstretched, and felt the first touch of the darkness—a cold, biting sensation—scrape against her fingertips. Reflexively, she radiated warmth, fingers brushing over his shoulders, a shield that pushed against the black tide.
“Echo! Echo!” Her voice cracked like glass, a sharp contrast to the hissing shadows. Breath quick, lungs tight, she pressed her body over his, knees brushing against the mattress. The darkness recoiled, curling around her like a living thing, pushing and snapping, growing angry—but she held her ground, palms pressed to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding erratically beneath her touch.
He stirred, gasping awake, chest rising sharply. His eyes opened, a swirl of red and brown flecked with gold, and met hers. His lips quivered as he exhaled, warm air brushing her cheek. He understood the situation inmedietly.
“Angel…” his voice was softer than she had ever heard it. “Angel, stop. It’s okay.”
“Okay? It's trying to get to you!” she replied in panic. She doubled her efforts and pushed back forcibly at the black shadows trying to surpass her shield. “I won’t let it!”
He lifted a hand, fingertips brushing her wrist, gentle and grounding. Tilting her chin down, he met her gaze with a patience that made her chest ache. “…It’s my darkness,” he explained in a whisper, low and almost sorrowful, the vibration of his voice resonating against her skin. “The evil I’ve conquered through all my life. Each victory... The weight grows heavier. Sometimes at night… it leaks out. To let this physical body rest. To breathe. During the day, I trap it back inside.”
Her chest tightened, lungs stuttering in overwhelming understanding. She felt it—the pressure of years, centuries, compressed around him, and how much he bore alone. She traced her fingers over his jaw, feeling the subtle warmth under her touch, and her thumb grazed a faint tremor at his temple. His skin was warm, his pulse rapid, and the soft sheen of sweat at his collarbone made her ache to soothe him.
“Echo…” she whispered, voice breaking, a few tears running down her cheeks quietly. Her forehead rested against his, and she felt his breath fan across her cheek, slow and deliberate.
He smiled softly, a ghost of light in the shadow of his burden. He almost looked like an angel like this; warm, soft, eyes traced with gold. This is what Echo could have been if he hadn't been forced to play demon, trapping all that darkness inside of him.
“It’s okay. Let go, Lumi. It’ll be fine.”
Her shields dissolved completely, surrendering to the truth of him. She collapsed against him fully, chest pressing to chest, limbs entangling, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat through every inch of her body. Fingers dug into his shoulders, and she wished she could lift even a fraction of the darkness that weighed him down.
The shadows and darkness filtered around her and rushed inside of the demon again, quietening and relaxing inside of his body. His eyes darkened to red again, his skin colder.
“I love you, Echo,” she whispered, voice wet with tears, lips brushing the curve of his jaw.
“You… you what?”
A shaky laugh slipped past her lips, damp with tears. “I love you,” she repeated, firmer now, letting the words sink into the space between them.
His chest tightened painfully. “You… can’t. You’re an angel, and I… We can’t be.”
“It's what I feel,” she murmured simply, closing the last fraction of distance before he backed away.
Their lips met—soft, tentative at first, then deeper, warmer. She felt the tiny heat of his lips against hers, the press of his colder body under hers, his hands tracing the line of her spine, anchoring her in place.
“There is darkness and light in all of us, Echo. Perhaps… this is how we coexist. Perhaps we can love like this.”
He stared, marveling, hand cupping her jaw, thumbs brushing against the curve of her cheekbone. His other hand rested lightly on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body against his. The shadows within him stirred, a living storm, but her presence held them at bay, their chaotic energy rippling against her skin but contained.
“I’ve been trying… to change things.” he finally confessed. Hope rising inside of him. “Learning from angels, their shields, their power… I’ve been creating runes, combining both demon and angel elements. You’ve… seen the parchments on my desk. Maybe…”
Her lips curved softly against his, wet and warm, brushing his jaw as her hands traced the gentle strength of his shoulders and back. “I’ll help you. Perhaps we misunderstood each other all along. Maybe we can work together instead of fighting. After all… our goal is the same: to control the darkness. We'll find a new method.”
He exhaled slowly, muscles relaxing fractionally under her touch. “It'll be hard. Neither of our sides will be supportive. It won’t be easy…”
She pressed her nose softly against his, the warmth of her breath seeping into his skin. “I’ve always liked my life a little complicated. I’m willing to try, if you are.”
His eyes lingered on hers, heart clenching, pupils dark. Finally, he whispered, “Yeah… yes. I am.”
They kissed again, slowly, deliberately, every brush of lips, every press of their bodies against each other magnified. His hands slid from her jaw down her back, spine arching under his touch, while hers threaded through his hair, pressing him closer. The shadows inside him shifted, writhing—but the warmth of her heart, her pulse, her very life pressed into his chest, made it bearable, even soothing.
Darkness rattled inside of the demon's body while he lost himself in the safety and warmth of the angels soul. She was there, steady, luminous, unafraid. Her tiny warmth flooding the cold, and he let himself be held, safe, for the first time in centuries.
Angel's and demon's had once had the same origin, long time ago; perhaps they could melt in one same ending once and for all.
Taraaa! It took me quite long to post this since I had other requests and stuff to write, but here it is finally, the last piece of the 100 celeb! (now we're almost at 200 lol).
I really loved this idea, hope you enjoyed the reading too!
I'm debating writing a sex pollen classical with echo and an ofc. I also feel like writing something involving a colysseum, fighting, a badass fem character and blood. I might just combine the two.
Echo is a Demon. His kind is tasked with killing. Lumi is an angel; a protector. What happens when they are both sent to the same person?
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PART 1. A HUMAN, A DEMON, AND AN ANGEL.
Angels share names in the Safe Temple. Some mean "light", some "guardians", some "peace"; and yet with this three single words, you can find so many variations. Lumi –short for Luminous–, belongs to the first bunch; her closest friend, Agnar, to the second. This three origins represent what all angels are; or at least, what they should be. That's their task, the reason of their existence. While demons only know of death and destruction, angels are beings of light; encharged of protecting those who deserve them and preserving the fragile peace in Coruss. It's not an easy task.
Lumi was five when she achieved her first rune. She was an early starter; most angels began their trainning at eight, and only the Great Angels had shown signs of their powers before such age. But Luminous had always been very persistent, perhaps almost a bit too headstrong for an angel; and her compassion and empathy had always been her greatest motivators. There had been someone who needed help; and so, five-year-old Lumi had furrowed her brow and studied the Old Books for months, trying to understand the laws of magic until she could create the rune and perform her spell. It hadn't been anything overly complicated. Just something to lift a humans spirit, make his toll a little less heavy; but it had pointed out her potencial, and decades later, Lumi had carved so many more runes in her skin she barely had any space left to spare.
That's how their magic work. You create the conections, the runes; then you sew them into your skin. Lumi's are almost a sparkling gold against her light brown tone; forming figures and criss-crossing with each other as they climb from her toes all the way up to her neck. When she uses them, they shine with a golden hue; a soft glow hugging her ethereal figure, iluminating her wings like a flash of energy. Ah, yes of course; angels do have wings. Not made out of feathers, not like a hard shell like most human believe them to be; but fragile and very thin, their strength residing in moving fast and agile more than serving as a shield. For that, angels conjure their own protective barriers; Lumi being an expert at that.
The thing about angels is that they can't voluntarily harm another being; no matter if the person in question is the most cruel they have come across or if it is one of the thousends of monsters that roam through Coruss. Their magic is only supposed to heal, to protect, to save; and so it is limited to producing shields, redirecting attacks, and blinding their enemies. Any sort of rune one can create that is meant to difuse and desescalate the situation rather than end it. The down-side to that is that those cruel beings are left alive to cause chaos another day; but well, that's not exactly an angels problem. That's what demons are for; why they exist.
If things in life often come in pairs and opossites, demons are angels perfect counterparts. They can't create, can't heal, can't bring light to someones life and make it better; they're just the final executioner, death dressed under millions of identical haunted faces, capes made of darkness, and weapons designed to not only kill, but hurt in the way. They don't posess their kind of magic. By design, demons are physically stronger, faster, more resistant; and their strength resides in those abilities along their use of the shadows and an endless list of weapons infused in various kinds of venoms and mysteries of the Underworld.
Lumi has only interacted with a demon twice; enough to make her blood ice cold and wish for the experience to not become a habit. Angels are able to sense other people emotions, aura, souls; they feed on those. The two demons Luminous happened to come across possesed such an angry rage, such an unforgiving cruelty, such darkness, that the angel could feel them crawling silently towards her like invisible fingers reaching towards her throat. She had felt crushed, almost suffocated by their presence; as for where darkness exist light can't, and viceversa.
Lost in thought, Luminous makes her way through the Safe Temple. It has been a while since the Great Angels summoned her to give her a new task. There's a kind of hierarchy between angels, even though no one dares to brag about it; they all have the same purpose, form part of the same comunity. It's just a matter of ability, really; some angels are more powerfull than others, and so they're usually reserved for more delicate, difficult missions, while the rest are sent on small everyday assignments. Everyone plays their part; and keep a delicate balance in two of the three Coruss's realms.
Lumi isn't extraordinarily powerfull. Not like the Great Angels, at least; but she is somewhat admired by her peers, having acomplished already so much by her short age. For an angel's life-span, her hundred-and-one years alive barely pulls her out of the naivety of adolescense; while at the same time, her mindset has matured and grown so much in the last decade she almost feels like a different being. Lumi is definitely not a teenager anymore; but a young spirit with her skin covered in golden runes and a fierce disposition rarely found in their kind. She almost feels excited at the possibility of a new task.
The young angel flies through the stairs of the Safe Temple; following the memorised path through the impecably white marble corridors towards the Great Salon. A guard nods towards her in a form of greeting; and seconds later, Luminous is standing in the middle of the room and being the center of attention of the five Great Angels. From left to right, sitting down on golden puffs, she quickly acknowdleges Plo Koon, Shaak Ti, Kit Fisto, Yoda, and Mace Windu; the first and last having formed part of Lumi's training. She awaits patiently for orders.
The silence in the Great Salon stretches long enough that Lumi begins to feel its weight settle across her shoulders. Lumi has never been particularly fond of waiting in silence. Her golden runes hum faintly, an unconscious reaction to her pulse quickening, and she clasps her hands together to keep them from glowing too bright. It was a problem she often had when she was a child.
It is Yoda who finally speaks.
“Too long without a mision, you have been, Luminous. Another path for you now, there is.” His voice is even, but his gaze carries something sharper—concern, perhaps, or warning.
Shaak Ti leans forward, her scarlet headdress catching the pale light. “There is one among the humans who has drawn the eyes of both realms. A scholar by the name of Anakin. He works without knowing what his hands create. He will change much, for better or worse, and we can't leave him without aid.”
Kit Fisto adds with a tilt of his head, “He is under threat. A number of dark spirits already circle him, drawn by what he carries. You will go to him, Luminous, and you will protect him.”
The young angel straightens. She's ready to get back to the field, to do some hard and rewarding work. She can take it.
“Yes, Great Angels.”
Windu raises a hand before she can bow. His dark eyes pin her in place. “You will not be the only one sent.”
For a fraction of a second, the room feels colder. Lumi doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. The Great Angels’ silence explains more than their words do. She doesn’t need to ask the question forming in her chest.
Still, it is Plo Koon -his first mentor- who confirms it, his voice low behind his mask. His patience and calmness has always been extraordinary, even within angels. You had always admired that from him.
“An Arc-demon walks the same path. His task mirrors yours, though his methods will not. He will try to eliminate Anakin, leave no risk at chance. But the human can still be saved. We trust you to give him a second chance.”
The golden runes along Lumi’s arms spark faintly at the thought. She remembers the suffocating rage that had crawled over her skin the last time she felt a demon near, how the shadows themselves seemed to whisper of violence. And yet she cannot help the flare of something else—curiosity, perhaps, beneath the dread.
The narrow alleyway was dimly lit, the walls of the surrounding buildings rising high on either side, trapping the pale light of the distant streetlamps above. The air was thick with the smell of wet stone, the distant hum of a city that never quite quieted. If one listened closely enough, one could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation floating down from the apartment above—the space where Anakin lived with his two friends, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. For the moment, all was calm.
But the calm was deceptive.
In the shadows of the alley, two figures faced one another, separated by only a few feet of cold, damp pavement. The first was Lumi, her wings wrapped tightly against her back, her luminous skin glowing faintly in the dim light. She stood still, her posture tense but graceful, her wide, gold eyes scanning her surroundings—ever watchful, ever aware of the danger that was about to unfold.
Before her stood Echo. The demon’s form was nearly a silhouette in the alley’s darkness, a tall figure cloaked in shadows, his crimson eyes gleaming from within the dark void of his hood. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and though the alley was small, it felt as though the very space between them had grown far larger in his wake.
"You’re late," Echo’s voice cut through the silence, rich with dark amusement and barely contained menace. The words fell from his lips like poison, thick with a biting edge.
Lumi didn’t move, not even to acknowledge the insult. She had no need to. She had a purpose—one far greater than engaging in mindless banter.
"I’m not here to fight you," she said, her voice steady, each word deliberate. "I’m here to protect him."
The demon let out a low chuckle, one that resonated in the narrow space between them, bouncing off the cold stone walls.
"Protect him? A lost cause?" His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his boots scraping against the gravel beneath him, sending a shiver through the air. "You’re wasting your time, Angel."
Lumi’s expression remained unshaken. She shifted slightly, instinctively placing herself between Echo and the narrow doorway to the apartment building just beyond, where Anakin remained momentarily safe with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.
"You don’t understand," she replied quietly, but firmly. "Anakin’s not lost. He has darkness in him, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s beyond saving."
Echo’s lip curled into a half-smile, though the expression was far from kind.
"You angels always think you can save everyone," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "But you’re deluded, Angel. You think your light can save him, but it won’t. The darkness in him… it’s already too deep. It’s been festering for years. He’s mine to deal with. You have no place here."
Lumi flared her wings slightly, the light from their soft, ethereal glow casting faint shadows on the alley’s walls.
"You’re wrong. I’m here to protect him," she said, her voice unwavering. "I won’t let you get to him."
For a brief moment, the demon said nothing. The quiet between them stretched on, thick and heavy with the weight of their conflict. The distant sound of footsteps from above echoed down the alley as Obi-Wan and Ahsoka moved about in their shared apartment, unaware of the dark encounter unfolding just beneath them. Humans were so fragile...
Then, slowly, Echo raised his hand, his fingers curled into a loose fist. The shadows around him seemed to bend, darkening the alley further, thickening with every passing second. The air felt colder, more suffocating.
"You really think you can stop me, don’t you?" he asked, his voice lowering to a deadly whisper as he took another step forward. His red eyes burned with an unspoken promise of destruction. "I’ve been tracking him for days. His darkness is my domain. I’ve already claimed him, whether you believe it or not. And if you stand in my way, I’ll destroy you too."
Lumi’s heart raced at his words, but she refused to be intimidated. She was an angel, and her purpose was clear. She would protect him.
"You can’t claim what doesn’t belong to you," she replied, her voice unwavering. "Anakin is not yours to take."
For a long moment, the demon's gaze remained fixed on her. A strange stillness filled the air between them. The tension was thick—both of them standing firm, unwilling to give an inch.
Finally, Echo let out a low chuckle.
"You won’t stop me," he said, his tone turning cold again. "You’ll regret standing in my way."
Lumi stood tall, unyielding, her golden eyes fixed on his.
"We’ll see," she said, her voice calm but resolute. "Perhaps it'll be you the one to regret it."
Echo’s gaze was firm, unwavering, as he studied her closely, sensing the intensity in her stance. He was trying to break her, to force her to back off, but the angel didn’t flinch. Her emotions were bubbling inside of her, a mixture of anger, frustration, and a growing sense of something deeper—something that wasn’t going to be shaken.
His lips curled into a cold, almost amused smile as he took a small step closer, his eyes narrowing.
"Mm. Can’t remember seeing a furious angel before," he mused, his voice low and teasing. "Are you sure you’re not a fallen one, pretty angel? Wouldn’t surprise me to see one of yours failing to do their task again. More work for me, huh?"
Lumi’s eyes flashed with shock, the words cutting deeper than she expected. She was momentarily stunned by the weight of what he’d implied, but it was enough to send her temper flaring. Her teeth clenched, and she snapped back, the words tumbling out with more force than she intended.
"There are different types of protectiveness," she shot back, her voice sharp and full of defiance. "We’re not all the same like you fucking demon clones. And you wouldn’t have more work to do if you didn’t attribute ours."
Echo’s expression shifted, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’ll be back for this one, Angel," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "We'll see each other again."
Without another word, the demon turned, disappearing into the shadows from which he’d emerged, his presence leaving the air thick with his dark energy.
Lumi stood still for a long moment, the silence swallowing the alley as she watched him vanish. Her wings slowly folded in against her back, the light dimming just slightly. She let out a breath, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. The encounter had shaken her more than she cared to admit.
The space between her and Anakin—just a few floors above—felt impossibly vast now, and the burden of her task weighed heavily on her. But she wasn’t going to back down. She would stop the demon from hurting him.
Anakin hadn’t slept since that night. The dreams hadn’t stopped, only sharpened—visions of ash and feathers, of burning eyes and cold hands reaching for him in the dark. Even in waking hours, something stalked just outside his perception. He’d stopped mentioning it to Obi-Wan or Ahsoka. What could he even say? That something was hunting him? He didn’t believe it himself.
But Lumi did.
She stayed close now, never fully revealing herself, but always there. An unseen warmth that hovered at the edge of his consciousness—a gentle shield whenever his thoughts turned too dark. She walked rooftops in silence, her light dimmed to avoid drawing attention. Her eyes never left him. Not since the alley.
And she knew he was watching too. Echo.
He hadn’t made another approach, but she could feel him—like the chill left by a storm cloud creeping across the sky. The demon’s presence lingered. He was patient. Calculating. Waiting for her guard to drop, for Anakin to break. She couldn’t let that happen.
And yet, every night it was a game of shadows. Anakin tossing in his bed. Lumi, posted just beyond his window ledge, wings wrapped tight. And somewhere below, Echo—lurking, watching, biding.
Until the attack came.
It started as a tremor.
Lumi felt it before she saw it—a rippling, unnatural energy pulsing through the city like a distant heartbeat. She turned sharply toward the alley behind the apartment, narrowing her eyes. Something was coming.
A heartbeat later, the monster revealed itself—tall, sinewy, more smoke than flesh, its form shifting like ink underwater. Its eyes glowed the color of dried blood, and its mouth stretched open in a silent, impossible scream. It was hunting. And it had found him.
Lumi dropped from the rooftop like a blade of light, hitting the pavement hard. Her wings flared, throwing up a barrier just as the creature lunged at Anakin’s window.
The beast collided with her shield, snarling as it twisted in the air. It slashed at the barrier again and again, each impact echoing like a bell toll. Lumi gritted her teeth, golden runes glowing as she fought to hold the line.
“Stay back!” she hissed, light lashing out from her fingertips, trying to push the thing away.
But it was relentless. The creature didn’t stop. It slammed against her shield —and again—and again. Each hit chipped away at her shield.
Lumi grit her teeth and pushed forward, wings flaring again, this time unleashing a burst of radiant force that sent the Rak’hir tumbling into the alley wall.
Her breathing was ragged now. Her energy was draining fast.
The beast recovered faster than she expected.
It came at her again—its limbs blurring, claws slashing. Lumi blocked the first, dodged the second, but the third caught her across the ribs, tearing fabric and drawing blood.
She cried out but didn’t fall. She staggered back, summoned a sharp flash of light to stun the monster, then launched a forceful pulse that cracked the pavement beneath it.
It wasn’t enough.
The Rak’hir shrieked and slammed her back against the wall. Her right wing crumpled against the stones. She coughed, gasped—but still pushed forward, raising a trembling hand to summon another shield.
Her light flickered. Fear —one she hadn't felt in a lifetime, swallowed her. Was this going to be her end?
Just as the creature reared for a final strike—
He appeared.
A spear of shadow sliced through the air, hitting the beast square in the side and slamming it into the floor.
Echo stepped from the shadows like death itself. His red eyes burned.
He was all sharp lines and dark energy, his cloak moving like smoke around him. He didn’t look at Lumi—he didn’t need to. His entire focus was on the Rak’hir.
"You shouldn’t be here," he growled to the creature, voice low and lethal.
The Rak’hir roared in response, but it was already backing away.
Echo advanced.
The shadows around him twisted and thickened, forming jagged weapons, chains, and dark spikes that slashed through the alley with precision. The Rak’hir fought back, shrieking and thrashing, warping its body to avoid his attacks.
Lumi, still breathing hard, forced herself upright. She didn’t trust the demon —not fully— but she wasn’t going to let him fight it alone.
With what strength she had left, she lifted her arms and threw out a shimmering arc of protective light toward Echo, catching one of the beast’s stray limbs before it could hit him.
He didn’t glance back—but he felt it. And for a moment, their movements synced.
Lumi sent bursts of golden force between his strikes, shielding his exposed side with radiant barriers when the beast moved too fast. Echo, in turn, drove the monster back with vicious blows—each one drawing more smoke, more shrieks, more darkness.
They moved together—light and shadow, clashing and complementing, two forces never meant to coexist, fighting as one.
Lumi’s energy was nearly gone. Her vision blurred at the edges, but she kept going. She unleashed a final blinding flare directly into the creature’s many eyes. It screamed—stunned for just long enough.
Echo seized the opening.
He leapt high, shadows coiling around his arms like armor, and slammed down with the force of a collapsing void. The creature buckled, then shattered into smoke and ash. It dissipated quickly; the darkness then inmediately reabsorbed.
The alley fell silent.
Lumi exhaled shakily, the effort of maintaining her stance draining the last of her strength. Her legs finally gave out beneath her. She collapsed to the ground, knees hitting first, then hands, then nothing at all.
Her glow dimmed. Blood ran freely from the gash at her side.
Echo turned, breathing heavily, his face pale and drawn—but still standing. He walked to her and knelt slowly.
She was still conscious—barely. Her eyes met his, cloudy with pain.
“You protected me” he murmured, almost to himself. “You protected a demon.”
Her eyes fluttered, barely open.
“I can’t help someone who can’t be saved,” she breathed, just a whisper now. “I guess… there’s good inside you, too.”
And with that, her body went still.
Echo sat there for a long moment, his hand hovering inches above her cheek. Then he reached out—trembling slightly—and brushed her skin with the back of his fingers. More curious than confused, more admiration than hate.
Soft. Warm. Still alive.
He clenched his jaw, stood, and lifted her into his arms.
He didn’t know what he was doing. Only that he couldn’t leave her to die there.
Echo’s grip on Lumi was firm but gentle, carrying her unconscious form through the winding paths of his realm. Shadows clung to the jagged spires and twisting streets like living smoke, eyes glinting from the darkness as if every corner held a watcher. The air was thick, heavy with heat and the faint scent of brimstone. Every step was a reminder that they were far from the world the angel knew—a place where their counterparts belonged.
“You can’t be serious,” hissed a familiar voice behind him. Fives stepped forward, eyes blazing with distrust. “You’re bringing an angel here? Into our world?”
Echo’s jaw tightened, his eyes sharp and unyielding. “She’s been wounded by a Rak’hir. This is the only place where I can attempt to draw out the darkness he inflicted in her safely.”
Tension sparked in the air. Fives sighed, still thinking this was not the best course of action and wondering why his brother was risking it all for someone who probably despised him and their kin.
“…if Palpatine finds out, we’re all dead.”
Echo’s jaw clenched, his darkness pulsing around him.
“Then he’ll never know.” His words were calm, but the weight behind them made the air tremble.
Without another word, he carried Lumi through an imposing archway and into a chamber hidden deep within the twisting labyrinth of his home. The faint glow of molten rock traced intricate, alien patterns across the floor. It was beautiful in a terrifying way.
Echo laid the unconscious angel down carefully on the dark, cushioned bed in the center of the room. Hours passed in silence, save for the faint hum of the demon realm beyond. Lumi’s eyelids fluttered occasionally, but her injuries and exhaustion kept her in a deep, dreamless sleep. Outside, the demons prawled and whispered, but inside this room, a fragile bubble of quiet held her.
When she finally stirred, a gasp tore from her throat. Her eyes opened to darkness softened by the dim glow of the chamber. Shadows danced along the walls, casting strange, shifting shapes that made her heart pound. Slowly, panic crept in as realization settled over her: she was an angel—alone—in the demon realm.
Every muscle ached, both of her wings trembled. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her breaths shallow. She swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed. Her heart pounded in her ears—not just from exhaustion, but from the reality of where she was. Her mind raced, imagining what could be waiting just beyond the room, in the vast, shadowed halls. She tried to steady herself.
Echo was there, kneeling beside her, eyes dark and unreadable but holding a strange, steady calm.
“You’re safe, Angel” he said softly, perhaps sensing her fear, his voice low and measured. “But I need you to stay here. Do not leave this room.”
Her gaze flitted around, and then back to him. Why am I here? Can I trust him? Or has he trapped me? Is he planning something else? Each thought collided with the memory of the pain she had endured outside, and the undeniable reality that he had saved her.
The demon's hands hovered above her, careful not to touch unless necessary. His jaw was tight, emotions pressed down, contained. He had to leave soon—there was work he could not ignore—but he could not leave her unprotected.
“Stay inside. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone” he ordered, firm but not unkind. “Just rest until I get back”.
Lumi nodded, fear and caution warring with the fragile thread of trust she felt toward him. Her body was weak, her wings ached, but she did not move from the bed. She watched as he stepped back, jaw clenched, eyes flicking once toward her before he vanished into the shadows.
Alone, the weight of the demon realm pressed in on her. The walls seemed to breathe, the shadows whispering secrets she could not understand. Fear, doubt, and a strange flicker of gratitude swirled inside her. Did he bring me here just because I helped him? Is he trying to pay me back? Why did he even step in against the monster in the first place? Why not... Let it kill me, then kill Anakin himself? What does he want from me?
Every sense was heightened—the faint heat from the walls, the low hum of energy in the air, the darkness around her. And yet, even in that terror, a part of her recognized something… protective. Something that told her she might survive this place. But survival, she realized, came at the cost of trust—and she was not sure if she was ready to trust him.
The door shut with a low thud, sealing Echo’s presence out of the room. For a long moment, Lumi sat frozen, staring at the carved patterns on the stone as though they might shift again and reveal some hidden threat.
Silence pressed down on her, thick and heavy. Only the low hum of the walls remained, a deep vibration she felt in her bones. Her golden runes ached faintly on her skin, the faintest flicker of light tracing across them—like her body was fighting the foreign shadows still coursing inside her.
He told me to stay. To rest.
Her chest tightened. Her instinct screamed at her to move, to run, to find light again. But what good would it do? She was in the heart of the demon realm. Even if she escaped the room, there were corridors filled with shadows, millions of demons breathing the same air. They would notice her immediately—her wings, her light, her very soul would betray her.
Her hands trembled as she pulled her knees to her chest, wings wrapping around herself like a cocoon. “Why here?” she whispered into the dimness. “Why did he bring me here?”
The question gnawed at her. Every angel had been taught demons were merciless—executioners designed to kill. But Echo… Had looked at her differently. Not with hunger, not with scorn, but with something closer to… resolve. Determination. Maybe even a flicker of concern.
Her pulse quickened at the thought, and she shook her head sharply. No. He’s a demon. They can’t care. They can’t…
Still, the memory of his voice lingered—steady, low, almost grounding. The protective stance and grip on her. That truth—the posibiliy of demon's being more than the evil tales she had always heard, unsettled her almost more than the shadows themselves.
Minutes crawled by, the voices outside fading. She sagged back onto the bed, trembling, the weight of her fear pressing down like a mountain.
She hated it. The fear. The helplessness. She was an angel—she was supposed to be a guardian, a shield. Yet here she was, hiding in the dark, depending on a demon. Was Anakin even okay?
Her thoughts tangled, a storm of contradiction. He brought me here to save me. He’s the reason I’m breathing. But if he wanted to hurt me, he couldn’t have chosen a crueler prison.
Hours crept by in silence. Lumi had no way of telling time here; there was no sun, no familiar rhythm of light and shadow, only the constant hum of the walls and the faint glow of her own runes whenever she lost focus on suppressing them.
She shifted on the bed, wincing at the dull ache in her side where the monster’s venom lingered. Echo had patched her wound, but she felt weak still. It would probably take a few days of rest to feel okay.
Her gaze wandered around the room, hesitant at first, then with growing curiosity. She had expected the living space of a demon to be cold, barren, perhaps littered with weapons or bones. Instead, the chamber felt… personal.
The walls were carved stone, yes, but smoothed with care, lined with shelves. On them rested small things: trinkets of dark metal, strange stones that pulsed with a muted glow—Lumi didn't think it served any purpose other than purely decorational, scrolls tied neatly with black cord. There was a blade propped in the corner, its edge etched with runes she didn’t recognize, yet it wasn’t displayed like a trophy—more like a tool set aside after use.
Her eyes caught on something stranger still. A strip of parchment pinned above the desk, covered in handwriting. Notes, sketches… diagrams of runes. Demon runes. The sight made her breath hitch. Their scripts weren’t supposed to resemble hers, yet here—though rougher, sharper—she saw patterns that mirrored angelic wards. Almost like Echo had been… studying.
Her fingers itched to trace them, but she forced herself still. Don’t. Don’t touch. Don’t even think it.
She tore her gaze away, focusing on the bed again. Her wings curled tighter around her as the unease in her chest grew. Every angel was taught the same truth: demons had no desire for knowledge, only destruction. Yet Echo’s room whispered of order, of restraint, of someone who did not entirely fit the mold she had been warned about. Of someone who wanted more than what had been first assigned to him.
That contradiction unsettled her more than anything.
Another faint noise drifted through the walls—a heavy step, a muffled growl, voices speaking in low tones. She swallowed hard, remaining in complete silence—almost holding off her breathing, until the sound—the danger, passed.
Lumi exhaled and layed back down on the bed. The room was suffocating, both prison and sanctuary. And she was caught in between—fear gnawing at her, mistrust anchoring her down, yet curiosity and hope creeping in, slow and dangerous like the shadows themselves.
The door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the walls. Lumi flinched, her breath catching as she sat upright on the bed. Echo stepped in, shadows trailing after him like smoke, his chest heaving with the rough rhythm of someone who had just been fighting—or killing. His black clothes were streaked with dark stains, and his hands trembled faintly, curling into fists as though he hadn’t yet come down from the surge of battle.
For a moment he didn’t even look at her, only braced his palms against the table as though the wood was the only thing keeping him upright. Then his eyes snapped to her, sharp and cutting.
“I see you actually stayed,” he said flatly, voice rough, lined with exhaustion.
Lumi swallowed. Her runes itched faintly under her skin, glowing soft gold in response to her unease. “You told me to,” she answered, steady but quiet, cautious.
Echo gave a humorless snort, shaking his head. “I wasn't sure if you'd listen. After all, angels have been ignoring demons for lifetimes.”
The words stung, and a part of her wanted to bite the bait and protest, but she forced herself to push past them. She studied him, the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders twitched like he was still braced for a fight.
“What kind of work leaves you like this?” she asked carefully, nodding toward the stains on his long-sleeved shirt, the restless edge to his movements. “You escaped mostly untouched from the Rak'hir, and that's a powerfull dark spirit. What can possibly...?”
His gaze flicked to her, dangerous now, like she had stepped over a line. “Rak'hirs, powerfull spirits?” he laughed, dry and humourless, his facial expresions hardening instantly. “They're a playground compared to some of the monsters that roam human realm. The evil and darkness we can't kill in time can group and transform into really terrifying things. Anakin's will for sure, it's already begging to be released from that tiny fragile human body.”
The angel ignored the pun, still reluctant to believe what the demon claimed. She had seen light in the young man herself and she just knew he could be saved.
Echo turned away as if to put distance between them.
Luminous pressed on, her voice firmer this time. She was tired of wondering. She wanted answers. “Why did you help me, then? It doesn't make sense. You could’ve left me to die. You'd have free way for Anakin then. Isn’t that what a demon’s supposed to do?”
For a long moment, silence thickened in the small room. Echo’s back was to her, broad and unmoving, but she could see his hands clenching tighter, shadows curling around his wrists like they were drawn to his anger. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, almost bitter:
“Don’t mistake this for kindness.” He turned just enough that his dark red eyes found hers, gleaming faintly in the gloom. “I didn’t save you for your sake. I did it because…” His jaw tightened, the words strangled before they could leave. “…Because letting that poison win would’ve been worse.”
The edge in his voice was sharp enough to cut, and Lumi felt a tremor run down her spine. Standing there now, shadows whispering at his heels and anger radiating from every movement, Echo looked every bit the demon her kind had warned her about.
When he stepped forward toward her, she had to fight the impulse to back up on the bed. The demon's expresion looked murderous; barely controlled enough to hide his hunger to kill. Lumi was suddenly reminded of how vulnerable she was here; not recovered enough to use her runes at her full potential and surrounded by demons who would have no remorse to kill her.
“You don't even know how a Rak'hir's venom works, do you?” he lowered himself down so he was sitting in the edge of the bed, so close Lumi could feel the expanding cold of the shadows playing around him. “The venom it inflicts is the real reason why one should be carefull with that monster. It's not the fact that it can kill you; it's that it will turn anything it infects with part of his soul, evil and darkness that will consume everything until the possibly kind creature you once were is no longer there.”
He was so close to her face now, his features so alive with that burning anger, that Lumi couldn't try to look anywhere else. She was almost mesmerised by his danger.
Echo showed her a tiny, cruel smirk.
“There's a little lie your dear Great Angels have been telling you since your soul was sharpened into form, Luminous. Because at the beginning of the three realms, demons weren't born simultaneously to angels, oh no. Palpatine, the Demon King, was once an angel too, just like Yoda or any of the other Great ones; and it was a hoard of Rak'hir who changed him, poisoned him with centuries of evilness and darkness until no light remained. Until the first Demon was shaped into humanoid form.”
At the shocked expresion of the pretty angel's face, Echo chuckled, finally backing away and standing at the feet of the bed, letting her breathe in the new space. Adrenaline still pounded through his veins, and he made an effort to keep his emotions at bay.
“You can take a read about the actual truth of our origins if you like, Angel” he pointed to one of the shelves pressed against the stone wall and fake smiled “Top shelve, it's the third one to the left.”
The demon dissapeared into the bathroom.
Lumi read, and her world tilted on it's edge again.
Luminous sat cross-legged on Echo’s floor, the book open in her lap, its pages smelling faintly of dust and old ink. She traced the letters with her finger, though her mind wasn’t really on the words—it was on what they revealed.
The origins of demons. According to the book, the first demon had once been an angel, radiant and whole, until a horde of rak’hirs twisted it into something dark, something vengeful, feeding on his light for decades until it extinguished. Everything about it—the anger, the cruelty, the relentless hunger—was the product of that torment. Palpatine had then used a human woman to propagate that same corruption, creating the first generations of demon clones.
Lumi’s chest tightened. She had read it all, absorbed the details, but her mind kept circling back to the same questions. Why had the Great Angels hidden this truth from them? Was it to keep them from fearing monsters, to make them fight without hesitation, without the fear of ending like demons? Or was it… worse? To keep them from feeling? From seeing demons as beings capable of inflicting more than pain or death, from having compassion, from understanding them?
She left the book on it's shelve again and layed down on the demon's bed, gaze fixed on the stone ceiling above her. When Echo came out of the shower, he was quiet too; the anger he had felt before seemingly having dissipated with the blood and sweat.
Lumi’s fingers tightened around the edge of the bed. She wanted to speak, to test the waters, but every word felt heavy, laden with more than just apology. She was still confused, too; too many thoughts and changes to process.
Finally, when Echo settled beside her on the bed, both of them silent, Lumi let her voice slip out, tentative, almost fragile.
“Echo… I’m sorry.”
Echo turned slightly to look at her. His expression was unreadable for a long moment, just the faintest crease between his brows.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “For what happened. Or for… anything you can’t control. I might have over reacted with the adrenaline I still carried from the outside.”
Lumi’s chest tightened further, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to tell him everything—the doubts, the fear, the sorrow for the first demon, about how maybe, just maybe, they could create the first angel/demon alliance—but she didn’t know if she could put it into words. Not yet.
“I just…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers twisted in the edge of the blanket. “…I don’t know how to feel about all of it. About them. About what the angels hid, if that book holds the truth. About… You. And everything.”
Echo shifted slightly closer, the movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. Enough to let her know he was there, not judging, not pressing, just… present.
“You'll figure it out,” he murmured. “One step at a time.”
Lumi’s lips twitched, a faint, tentative smile breaking through. She let herself lean just a little, her shoulder brushing his. The heaviness in her chest didn’t vanish, but it felt… lighter. Shared.
The Safe Temple seemed like a distant memory now. Days had passed since the Rak’hir’s venom had torn through Lumi’s veins, leaving her trembling and hollow, her light flickering like a candle in the wind. She was improving—her glow had steadied, the pain had ebbed—but Echo had warned her time and again: the darkness still nested inside her, buried deep where her runes could not reach. To remove it too soon would be reckless, he said. If done wrong, the extraction could shatter her soul, corrupt her light, or worse—leave her somewhere in between, neither angel nor demon, lost in an endless void.
And so she waited, healing slowly under the unspoken truce of his protection. She did not belong here, in the Demon Realm, but Echo had hidden her well. For now.
That night, she heard him before she saw him.
The door burst open with a slam, shaking the room’s frame. Echo strode inside, his steps heavy, his presence darker than usual. His eyes burned with that unsettling shade of red, wild with leftover adrenaline, and his skin was streaked with blood—some his own, some not. An unstelling painting of red and black.
Lumi froze, not knowing what to do about it.
Echo didn’t look at her. Didn’t say a word. He went straight for the bathroom. Another slam, sharper than the first. She heard the rush of the tap, water running then cut short, the harsh thud of fabric angrily hitting the floor, the creak of pipes as the shower roared to life.
Then silence.
No— not silence. The muted thump of his head hitting the tile. Then two smaller ones, perhaps his clenched fists resting against the shower walls too. Water pounding down, drowning everything except the steady ache in her chest. It was just in her being the need to comfort and help; and she had never done a good job at ignoring the chance to do so.
Lumi sat there, hands tangled in her lap, the book she had been reading now abandoned in the bed, her wings pressed tightly to her back. She wanted to ask, wanted to whisper through the door if he was alright—but fear and caution kept her quiet. If she interrupted him, reminded him that she was technically an enemy... Would he snap back?
Minutes passed, only the hiss of water and the echo of her own heartbeat filling the air. She was on her way to standing up, bare feet brushing the cold stone floor, when the shower cut off. Her breath caught.
The door opened, steam curling out into the room like smoke. Echo stepped into the dim light, bare-chested, only a pair of dark pants clinging to his frame. Droplets of water still ran down his skin, tracing lines between scars—scars upon scars, old ones faded into silver and pink, newer ones raw and red, layered over his chest, his arms, his sides. Battle written into his body like scripture.
Lumi gasped before she could stop herself. Not loud, but enough for the demon to hear her. A sound of shock, of pain that wasn’t hers but might as well have been. He looked... Broken, and yet, so very much alive.
Echo’s gaze flicked to her. Just for a heartbeat; as if he had suddenly remembered he had brought an angel to his own very room in Demon Realm. He scanned her, quick, sharp, making sure she was unharmed—then turned away as if it meant nothing. He crossed the room, shoulders heavy, movements rigid, and collapsed onto the bed beside her.
“Night" he muttered flatly, already rolling to face the wall and not the concerned, anxious expresion on her face. With a flick of his hand, the light went out, plunging the room into quiet shadow.
But Lumi still glowed. Not brightly—just a soft, fragile shimmer, her runes humming faintly against her skin. She lay still, watching the broad expanse of his back.
That was when she saw them for the first time.
Runes. But not like hers—hers flowed in elegant curves, gold threaded with light, each mark crafted with nurturing purpose. His were jagged, sharp, carved deep into his flesh as though angrily torn rather than carefully drawn. Dark purple, crisscrossing one another, their sharpness biting into his skin even in stillness. Not quite similar to the ones she had seen on the parchment on his desk before; those looked somewhere in between.
She stared, her breath shallow, a thousand thoughts colliding in her mind. Questions. Wonder. A quiet ache she didn’t want to name.
He carried scars she couldn’t even begin to count. He was a demon. And yet, sleeping there in the same bed—he just felt like a man. A tired, and troubled man.
He had fought monsters she couldn't even begin to name and still he slept with his back turned, as if imaginary walls between them were safer than facing the worry in her face.
She wanted to ask him. Wanted to whisper his name into the silence, to bridge the endless distance of the few inches between their bodies.
But when she parted her lips, no sound came out.
Because what would she even say? I’m sorry for your scars? Do you want to talk? I don’t know why I don’t hate you? None of it seemed right. None of it felt safe.
So she stayed quiet. His name lingered on her tongue, heavy as a prayer she couldn’t admit she wanted to make.
The exhausted demon soon fell to the tempting, numbing comfort of sleep; but Lumi layed there, glowing faintly in the dark, unable to tear her eyes of the demon's back. A map of purple runes and scars.
The days pass in a strange rhythm. Small conversations here and there, brief moments when silence feels almost companionable. Lumi is healing—slowly, her light returning, though Echo insists it isn’t time yet.
“You won’t stay here forever, you know that, right?” he says one evening, voice quiet, steady, while she fusses with the thin blanket over her lap.
Her anxious glance softens.
“You’ll just need a week more or two, probably” Echo continues, eyes sliding away, “and you’ll be safe to go.”
A warm, genuine smile spreads across her lips. “Thank you, Echo.”
He only gives a short nod, already turning away to implant his imaginary wall. “Good night, angel.”
Another night comes. Luminous waits, watching the door, hours dragging with no sign of the demon returning. Trapped inside this room, Echo is her anchor to sanity. The only thing to entertain herself with beside his collection of books -which Lumi had already gone through half of the shelves-. Her anxiety grows heavier with each minute. A difficult mission? A fight? Has someone discovered her? What if—
The door finally creaks open.
Echo stumbles in, dark eyes dimmer than usual. His chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. He looks seconds away from unconsciousness; the worst shape the angel had ever seen him in.
“Echo—! What-what happened?” Lumi rushes forward, reaching him just before he collapses against the wall.
He groans, stumbling forward with her pannicked aid and fumbling for the small med kit in the bathroom. “Crassar… spines… Need—need you to pull them out.”
Echo winces when he takes his soaked shirt off. Lumi's eyes widen, horrified at the sight of jagged dark spines lodged deep into his side and shoulder. Realisation hits her and she whispers in doubt “…That’ll rip part of your skin off.”
His hands shake as he forces the kit open, jaw clenched. “I-I know. Don’t care. If they stay, they’ll rot the tissue—infect it, then sink into my blood vessels. The longer we wait, the worse it’ll get. I need you to take them out.”
Lumi hesitates. This will hurt like hell. It'll be... bloody. Almost like torture. But he needs it. It's... a different brand of help than the one she is used to offer, but help nonetheless. And she has always had a backbone for tough things.
Her voice steadies, firm with quiet resolve. “Okay. Turn around and sit down. Put a towel in your mouth.”
Echo obeys with a grunt, lowering himself to the floor in front of her. He shoves a folded towel between his teeth, body tense and ready for pain.
Lumi readies the tweezers, her own hands shaking as she steadies the jar for the spines. Her breath hitches. And then, in contradiction- “Breathe.”
He inhales, and the angel grips the first spine. She takes a second to center herself. Then, with a sharp pull, it tears free -at the cost of some of Echo's mostly superficial skin.
A muffled cry is released against the towel, Echo’s entire frame shaking involuntarily with the pain. His fists clench, knuckles white. Eyelids shut holding back tears.
Lumi blinks back her own, swallowing hard. She doesn’t stop. She can't, even if she wants to. She swallows down, and one by one, she extracts the spines, the sound of tearing flesh filling the small room. Each whimper that escapes him cuts through her chest, but she pushes on.
“I’m sorry” she whispers, again and again, words like a prayer as her eyes brim. “I’m sorry, Echo… just a little more.”
Finally, the last spine clatters into the jar. Echo is shaking, drenched in sweat and trails of blood, breath ragged.
Lumi sets the tools aside quickly, scooping balm from the medkit into her hands. She spreads it carefully over the wounds, then closes her eyes, voice trembling as she murmurs healing runes under her breath. The faint glow of her light seeps into his skin, calming the burn, slowing the bleeding. Numbing the pain.
His body sags with exhaustion and desperately needed relief, half-conscious.
“Let’s help you to bed now, Echo,” she says softly, guiding him with steady arms outside of the bathroom.
He stumbles but lets her lead him. His lips twitch into something like a broken smile. “M’filthy. Going to stain everything.”
A breathless laugh escapes her, wet with relief. “We’ll survive. You need rest more than you need to look immaculately menacing, you know.”
She settles him onto the bed. As she tucks the blanket around him, he turns his head, eyes half-lidded but sharp enough to catch the shine of a tear sliding down her cheek.
“…Why are you crying, little angel?”
Her lips tremble into a smile. She kneels beside him, brushing his damp forehead, her touch feather-light with care. “I might be growing fond of you, Echo... You’re not all bad. You scare me sometimes—all that hate and coldness inside you. But… there’s also a quiet kindness. A warmth you seem to be oh so persistent to hide.”
The demon's eyes flicker, unreadable. They don't look as terrifying as she once thought they did. “…You’ve stayed too long down here. It’s evidently affecting your judgment.”
Her smile softens further, her thumb tracing gently across his temple. “Mm. Better not tell anyone, then. Sleep, Echo.”
He exhales slowly, the fight finally draining from his body, and lets himself fall into unconsciousness.
Lumi stays at his side, her hand still resting in his hair. Her thoughts swirl—dangerous, forbidden, but undeniable. Something is changing. In him. In her. The line between them blurring, impossible to ignore. If she's getting lost, she's not sure she wants to be found.
Echo came and went, sometimes returning whole, sometimes wounded, always carrying with him the heavy air of battles Lumi could only imagine. Yet in between, in the quiet of his room, something fragile began to form.
Amicable respect. Tentative conversation.
Lumi noticed first. The way his skin seemed less ashen than when she’d first woken in his world, the cold cast to him softening as though warmth was returning where once there had been only frost. Sometimes, when he didn’t think she was watching, the tension in his shoulders eased, as if the presence of another being —even an angel, a supposed enemy— dulled some unseen weight.
It began with small questions.
Her: “Do you… have dreams?”
Him, after a pause: “Not of things remotely realistic.”
Then his, equally hesitant: “What’s your realm like?”
Her smile, faint but true: “Endless. Bright. Warm.”
They shared fragments — shards of memory, of places neither could visit in their own on the other’s realm without tearing the world in half. And though their words were careful, veiled, each answer laid a stone on a bridge neither had intended to build.
Yet beneath Echo’s quiet voice, beneath this growing, temptative friendship, his thoughts churned.
He should not enjoy this. Not her laughter, soft though it was. Not her gaze, gentle even when wary. Angels were hypocrites draped in light. They had abandoned demons to claw through centuries of blood and evilness alone. Where angels refused to strike, demons bore the burden — slaying men too cruel to let live, monsters and spirits too vile to deserve mercy. They did the work angels deemed themselves too holy to touch.
And for that, demons were called evil. Condemned. Forsaken.
Echo knew this truth as surely as he knew the scars carved into his flesh. Hatred had guided him, sharpened him, kept him standing when all else threatened to break.
But now…
Lumi’s presence unraveled him in ways he hadn’t thought possible.
When she asked about his battles, he wanted to tell her. When she looked at him without fear — or worse, with pity — he wanted to shake her, to remind her that he was born of darkness, that her kind had no right to see anything else. That each of them had their own side of the balance to keep. And yet, when her hand brushed his once by accident, when her light seemed to warm the air itself, something in him tightened, something old and restless and dangerous. Something he barely remembered feeling from when he was a child and had first felt at the sight of his twin, Fives.
She should be his enemy.
Instead, she was becoming a tether.
At night, when she dozed beside him, he found himself often shifting from his usual resting position on his side to stare at her, replaying her words in his head. “You’re not all bad… there’s also a quiet kindness, and warmth.”
Kindness. Warmth. Words meant for another –for angels–, not for him. And yet they burrowed deep, defying the very hatred that had defined his existence.
He hated her for it.
And at the same time, he wasn’t sure what he’d do without it. Those words... Were the hope for Echo's very unrealistic dreams. For the mix of purple and golden runes that were scribbled on the parchments on his desks; the ones he had secretly being working on for decades. His hope.
The days bled into nights, and nights into more of that strange rhythm they had fallen into. Lumi felt herself healing — her ribs no longer screamed every time she moved, her glow had grown steadier, but there was something off. Subtle at first. Her laugh sometimes rang a little sharper than intended, her patience was thinner, and she caught herself feeling surges of irritation that weren’t… her. Her warmth flickered, like a candle threatened by a constant draft.
She didn’t say it aloud, but Echo knew. He had been watching closely — too closely. He saw the way her light faltered in odd pulses, the faint tremors beneath her skin. He knew that poison. He knew it like his own blood.
One evening, after another long day where he had returned battered and she had patched him up in silence, he didn’t lay down right away. He stood at the edge of the room, eyes unreadable, jaw set hard as if bracing himself for a storm.
“It’s time,” he finally said. His voice was low, rough, almost reluctant.
Lumi curled up in the blankets, blinked at him. “Time for what?”
His eyes, dark and endless, flicked toward her ribcage, to the hidden wound beneath. “For me to take it out. The darkness. If we wait longer, it’ll root too deep. It’ll change you.”
Her breath caught. She had felt it. That shadow that didn’t belong to her. Her hand instinctively touched her ribs, as if she could stop the poison from invading her with that. “What happens if you don’t?” she whispered, though part of her didn’t want the answer.
“You’ll turn,” Echo said bluntly, voice like stone. But something flickered in his gaze — something fragile and dangerous. “You won’t be you anymore. You’ll… belong here. With us. With me.”
The words tasted wrong on his tongue. Temptation laced every syllable. The thought of her falling — of her light burning out and becoming dark like his — had haunted him these nights. A part of him wanted it. Wanted her bound to his realm forever, no angel watching, no heaven to claim her. Just him. Just them.
But that wouldn’t be Lumi. Not the Lumi who smiled despite fear, not the Lumi who touched his scars like they weren’t something vile. Not the Lumi with endless compasion and empathy. If she turned, she’d be gone. Her smiles wouldn't be warm, but cold. Her delicate expresions would churn with the burning rage of hate an anger.
He clenched his jaw, fighting the quiet ache that settled in his chest. He couldn't let the voice inside of him that screamed and begged to let the poison take it's route win.
When he crossed the room, his steps were heavy, his aura bristling with restrained power. Lumi’s heart raced, unsure if it was fear or something else. Unbeknowns to him, a similar trace of thoughts swarm inside of her own mind.
He knelt beside her, and rested a hand over the scar that marked her ribs.
“This will hurt,” he warned.
She nodded faintly, searching his face. “I trust you”.
That cracked something inside him.
His fingers pressed into her skin, his power seeping through. She gasped — not eaxctly in pain, but in shock at the pull. It was like icy chains ripping out roots that had latched into her very soul. The venom twisted, screamed, resisted. Lumi’s back arched, breath trembling as shadows coiled out of her, threads of darkness drawn to Echo’s hand.
He absorbed them all. Every drop. Every thorn of venom that had tried to corrupt her, he dragged into himself. And the moment it touched him, he felt it — the sweetest intoxication. A rush of power and something more dangerous, like tasting stolen light mingled with the familiar poison of his kind. It was bliss. It was ruin. It was hers. And it burned.
He gritted his teeth, forcing the pain down. He shoved what the Rak'hir had inflicted her with deep, locking it away inside the endless cavern of his own darkness.
Lumi slumped back against the pillows, drenched in sweat, chest heaving. The wound at her ribs stopped throbbing — it felt clean again. A weight she hadn't even noticed at first suddenly lifted from her spirit. She was safe.
Echo pulled his hands back, trembling, a faint purple haze flickering across his runes as he whispered hoarsely, “It’s done.”
When she looked at him, she didn’t see just a demon. She saw someone who had just given up the very thing his kind thrived on, just so she could stay herself.
Lumi’s heart ached, swelled, overflowed. She reached for him, her hand delicate against the rough line of his strong jaw.
“Thank you” she answered in a heartfelt whisper.
Lumi knew how hard that must have been to him. Not just the physical aspect of that extraction; but the will to do so. To not let the dangerous thoughts win. To let her keep being herself; even if it would make things more difficult to him.
For a long moment, Echo only stared, caught between resignment and a raw ache that felt like a wound. He had only felt that towards Fives before; love.
“Let's get some sleep in” he murmured quietly, the moment vulnerable. “I think we both need it.”
Echo didn't show Lumi his back that night. They slept face to face; staring silently at each other until sleep came.
The night was heavy, almost liquid in its stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of movement outside. Shadows coiled and shifted in the room, thin tendrils of darkness twisting like smoke in the angel's soft light. Echo trembled in his sleep, fingers clenching the sheets, lips parting in quiet whimpers. A shiver ran down his spine, subtle but unmistakable.
Lumi’s eyes snapped open. Her heart pounded, skin prickling with fear, yet instinct drove her forward. She leapt over him, hands outstretched, and felt the first touch of the darkness—a cold, biting sensation—scrape against her fingertips. Reflexively, she radiated warmth, fingers brushing over his shoulders, a shield that pushed against the black tide.
“Echo! Echo!” Her voice cracked like glass, a sharp contrast to the hissing shadows. Breath quick, lungs tight, she pressed her body over his, knees brushing against the mattress. The darkness recoiled, curling around her like a living thing, pushing and snapping, growing angry—but she held her ground, palms pressed to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding erratically beneath her touch.
He stirred, gasping awake, chest rising sharply. His eyes opened, a swirl of red and brown flecked with gold, and met hers. His lips quivered as he exhaled, warm air brushing her cheek. He understood the situation inmedietly.
“Angel…” his voice was softer than she had ever heard it. “Angel, stop. It’s okay.”
“Okay? It's trying to get to you!” she replied in panic. She doubled her efforts and pushed back forcibly at the black shadows trying to surpass her shield. “I won’t let it!”
He lifted a hand, fingertips brushing her wrist, gentle and grounding. Tilting her chin down, he met her gaze with a patience that made her chest ache. “…It’s my darkness,” he explained in a whisper, low and almost sorrowful, the vibration of his voice resonating against her skin. “The evil I’ve conquered through all my life. Each victory... The weight grows heavier. Sometimes at night… it leaks out. To let this physical body rest. To breathe. During the day, I trap it back inside.”
Her chest tightened, lungs stuttering in overwhelming understanding. She felt it—the pressure of years, centuries, compressed around him, and how much he bore alone. She traced her fingers over his jaw, feeling the subtle warmth under her touch, and her thumb grazed a faint tremor at his temple. His skin was warm, his pulse rapid, and the soft sheen of sweat at his collarbone made her ache to soothe him.
“Echo…” she whispered, voice breaking, a few tears running down her cheeks quietly. Her forehead rested against his, and she felt his breath fan across her cheek, slow and deliberate.
He smiled softly, a ghost of light in the shadow of his burden. He almost looked like an angel like this; warm, soft, eyes traced with gold. This is what Echo could have been if he hadn't been forced to play demon, trapping all that darkness inside of him.
“It’s okay. Let go, Lumi. It’ll be fine.”
Her shields dissolved completely, surrendering to the truth of him. She collapsed against him fully, chest pressing to chest, limbs entangling, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat through every inch of her body. Fingers dug into his shoulders, and she wished she could lift even a fraction of the darkness that weighed him down.
The shadows and darkness filtered around her and rushed inside of the demon again, quietening and relaxing inside of his body. His eyes darkened to red again, his skin colder.
“I love you, Echo,” she whispered, voice wet with tears, lips brushing the curve of his jaw.
“You… you what?”
A shaky laugh slipped past her lips, damp with tears. “I love you,” she repeated, firmer now, letting the words sink into the space between them.
His chest tightened painfully. “You… can’t. You’re an angel, and I… We can’t be.”
“It's what I feel,” she murmured simply, closing the last fraction of distance before he backed away.
Their lips met—soft, tentative at first, then deeper, warmer. She felt the tiny heat of his lips against hers, the press of his colder body under hers, his hands tracing the line of her spine, anchoring her in place.
“There is darkness and light in all of us, Echo. Perhaps… this is how we coexist. Perhaps we can love like this.”
He stared, marveling, hand cupping her jaw, thumbs brushing against the curve of her cheekbone. His other hand rested lightly on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body against his. The shadows within him stirred, a living storm, but her presence held them at bay, their chaotic energy rippling against her skin but contained.
“I’ve been trying… to change things.” he finally confessed. Hope rising inside of him. “Learning from angels, their shields, their power… I’ve been creating runes, combining both demon and angel elements. You’ve… seen the parchments on my desk. Maybe…”
Her lips curved softly against his, wet and warm, brushing his jaw as her hands traced the gentle strength of his shoulders and back. “I’ll help you. Perhaps we misunderstood each other all along. Maybe we can work together instead of fighting. After all… our goal is the same: to control the darkness. We'll find a new method.”
He exhaled slowly, muscles relaxing fractionally under her touch. “It'll be hard. Neither of our sides will be supportive. It won’t be easy…”
She pressed her nose softly against his, the warmth of her breath seeping into his skin. “I’ve always liked my life a little complicated. I’m willing to try, if you are.”
His eyes lingered on hers, heart clenching, pupils dark. Finally, he whispered, “Yeah… yes. I am.”
They kissed again, slowly, deliberately, every brush of lips, every press of their bodies against each other magnified. His hands slid from her jaw down her back, spine arching under his touch, while hers threaded through his hair, pressing him closer. The shadows inside him shifted, writhing—but the warmth of her heart, her pulse, her very life pressed into his chest, made it bearable, even soothing.
Darkness rattled inside of the demon's body while he lost himself in the safety and warmth of the angels soul. She was there, steady, luminous, unafraid. Her tiny warmth flooding the cold, and he let himself be held, safe, for the first time in centuries.
Angel's and demon's had once had the same origin, long time ago; perhaps they could melt in one same ending once and for all.
Taraaa! It took me quite long to post this since I had other requests and stuff to write, but here it is finally, the last piece of the 100 celeb! (now we're almost at 200 lol).
I really loved this idea, hope you enjoyed the reading too!
Echo is a Demon. His kind is tasked with killing. Lumi is an angel; a protector. What happens when they are both sent to the same person?
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · 100 celebration – PROMPT 4 = ANGEL&DEMON AU
PAIRING: ECHO/ORIGINAL FEMALE CHARACTER
WARNINGS: WOUNDS, BLOOD, MENTIONS OF
— Prompt 5. Superpowers&Fantasy AU.
Pairing: Fives/original female character.
In a galaxy where superpowers are an everyday thing, Li is what people call a "Blink". She has the ability to teleport anywhere; which is certainly useful when you're a fugitive escaping from the 501st. Fives has dreams.
In a world were appearance is almost as important as reality, your family stands at the very top of the piramid. Like every other seventeen year old girl you're nervous and expectant for your presentation in society; and of the delicate decisions you'll have to make.
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100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 6. HISTORIC PERIOD (REGENCY) AU
REX/FEMALE READER 💖🔥
WARNINGS: ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE INSPIRED BY THE BRIDGERTONS,
— Prompt 7. Pornstar AU.
Pairing: Hunter/f reader.
Your manager tells you it's time to find a new co-star. You decide to film with Hunter, a gorgeous sexy clone turned pornstar.
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100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 7. SEX WORKER/PORNSTAR AU
HUNTER/FEMALE READER 🔥
WARNINGS: PORN INDUSTRY, VIDEO TAPES&FILMING SEX, FLEETING MENTI
— Prompt 8. Pirates AU.
Pairing: Hunter/ f reader.
You made a deal with Captain Hunter to join his crew of pirates and find the legendary Moon Kyber for him. You made a second deal with Commodoro Palpatine to deliver the treasure to him instead. How can you come out of this conflict of interests alive and with the pirate you've fallen in love with?
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100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 8. PIRATES AU
HUNTER/F READER 💖💔🔥
WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, SCARS, BLOOD AND WOUNDS, STRONG DERROGATIVE LANGUAGE TOWARDS
— Prompt 9. Mermaids AU.
Pairing: Tech/f reader.
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Below the surface, where the world is a myriad of blues and different marine kingdoms coexist, there are two subspecies of mermaids; shallow mers and deep-water mers. You've always been told to be wary of the second ones. A casual encounter starts to make you think otherwise.
100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 7. MERMAID AU
TECH/ FEMALE READER 💖
WARNINGS: This story alternates between reader's and third person (Tech'ish)
— Prompt 14. Telepathy.
Pairing: Tech/f reader.
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Tech can't figure out why you seem to shy away from him; so he uses his telepathy to find out. Your thoughts about him are definitely a surprise.
100 CELEBRATION — PROMPT 14. TELEPATHY
TECH / F READER 💖(🔥)
WARNINGS: BRIEF MENTIONS OF INSECURITIES, SEXUAL THOUGHTS BUT NO PROPER SEX SC
— Prompt 15. Arranged marriage/fake dating.
Pairing: Crosshair/original female character.
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Trying to wipe off the smile out of your ex-best friends' face, you tell her you're currently engaged; blurting out the first name that comes to your head.
100 CELEBRATION — PROMPT 15. ARRANGED MARRIAGE / FAKE DATING
CROSSHAIR/F READER 💖
WARNINGS: past friendship breakup, fluff fluff fluff.
N
— Prompt 17. Prince&servant AU.
Pairing: Rex/f reader.
You're the princess of Bahr; the succesor to the Crown. Rex is just a servant; a boy that works at the kitchen first, a captain in the army later. You should have forgotten him through the years; and yet, almost a decade later, you can't help the feeling that you two just belong.
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100 CELEBRATION — PROMPT 17. PRINCE&SERVANT AU
REX/F READER 💖💔
WARNINGS: servant/slavery themes, social gap, mentions of war, soulbonds, f
— Prompt 22. Forced to share heat/one bed.
Pairing: Wrecker/f reader.
When your ship, the Starlight, suffers the consecuences of the wrath inflicted by the pirates, Wrecker and you have to find the way of surviving together. And once you get back to safety... Was surviving all that that was, or is there something more happening between you?
Echo is a Demon. His kind is tasked with killing. Lumi is an angel; a protector. What happens when they are both sent to the same person?
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
PART 1. A HUMAN, A DEMON, AND AN ANGEL.
Angels share names in the Safe Temple. Some mean "light", some "guardians", some "peace"; and yet with this three single words, you can find so many variations. Lumi –short for Luminous–, belongs to the first bunch; her closest friend, Agnar, to the second. This three origins represent what all angels are; or at least, what they should be. That's their task, the reason of their existence. While demons only know of death and destruction, angels are beings of light; encharged of protecting those who deserve them and preserving the fragile peace in Coruss. It's not an easy task.
Lumi was five when she achieved her first rune. She was an early starter; most angels began their trainning at eight, and only the Great Angels had shown signs of their powers before such age. But Luminous had always been very persistent, perhaps almost a bit too headstrong for an angel; and her compassion and empathy had always been her greatest motivators. There had been someone who needed help; and so, five-year-old Lumi had furrowed her brow and studied the Old Books for months, trying to understand the laws of magic until she could create the rune and perform her spell. It hadn't been anything overly complicated. Just something to lift a humans spirit, make his toll a little less heavy; but it had pointed out her potencial, and decades later, Lumi had carved so many more runes in her skin she barely had any space left to spare.
That's how their magic work. You create the conections, the runes; then you sew them into your skin. Lumi's are almost a sparkling gold against her light brown tone; forming figures and criss-crossing with each other as they climb from her toes all the way up to her neck. When she uses them, they shine with a golden hue; a soft glow hugging her ethereal figure, iluminating her wings like a flash of energy. Ah, yes of course; angels do have wings. Not made out of feathers, not like a hard shell like most human believe them to be; but fragile and very thin, their strength residing in moving fast and agile more than serving as a shield. For that, angels conjure their own protective barriers; Lumi being an expert at that.
The thing about angels is that they can't voluntarily harm another being; no matter if the person in question is the most cruel they have come across or if it is one of the thousends of monsters that roam through Coruss. Their magic is only supposed to heal, to protect, to save; and so it is limited to producing shields, redirecting attacks, and blinding their enemies. Any sort of rune one can create that is meant to difuse and desescalate the situation rather than end it. The down-side to that is that those cruel beings are left alive to cause chaos another day; but well, that's not exactly an angels problem. That's what demons are for; why they exist.
If things in life often come in pairs and opossites, demons are angels perfect counterparts. They can't create, can't heal, can't bring light to someones life and make it better; they're just the final executioner, death dressed under millions of identical haunted faces, capes made of darkness, and weapons designed to not only kill, but hurt in the way. They don't posess their kind of magic. By design, demons are physically stronger, faster, more resistant; and their strength resides in those abilities along their use of the shadows and an endless list of weapons infused in various kinds of venoms and mysteries of the Underworld.
Lumi has only interacted with a demon twice; enough to make her blood ice cold and wish for the experience to not become a habit. Angels are able to sense other people emotions, aura, souls; they feed on those. The two demons Luminous happened to come across possesed such an angry rage, such an unforgiving cruelty, such darkness, that the angel could feel them crawling silently towards her like invisible fingers reaching towards her throat. She had felt crushed, almost suffocated by their presence; as for where darkness exist light can't, and viceversa.
Lost in thought, Luminous makes her way through the Safe Temple. It has been a while since the Great Angels summoned her to give her a new task. There's a kind of hierarchy between angels, even though no one dares to brag about it; they all have the same purpose, form part of the same comunity. It's just a matter of ability, really; some angels are more powerfull than others, and so they're usually reserved for more delicate, difficult missions, while the rest are sent on small everyday assignments. Everyone plays their part; and keep a delicate balance in two of the three Coruss's realms.
Lumi isn't extraordinarily powerfull. Not like the Great Angels, at least; but she is somewhat admired by her peers, having acomplished already so much by her short age. For an angel's life-span, her hundred-and-one years alive barely pulls her out of the naivety of adolescense; while at the same time, her mindset has matured and grown so much in the last decade she almost feels like a different being. Lumi is definitely not a teenager anymore; but a young spirit with her skin covered in golden runes and a fierce disposition rarely found in their kind. She almost feels excited at the possibility of a new task.
The young angel flies through the stairs of the Safe Temple; following the memorised path through the impecably white marble corridors towards the Great Salon. A guard nods towards her in a form of greeting; and seconds later, Luminous is standing in the middle of the room and being the center of attention of the five Great Angels. From left to right, sitting down on golden puffs, she quickly acknowdleges Plo Koon, Shaak Ti, Kit Fisto, Yoda, and Mace Windu; the first and last having formed part of Lumi's training. She awaits patiently for orders.
The silence in the Great Salon stretches long enough that Lumi begins to feel its weight settle across her shoulders. Lumi has never been particularly fond of waiting in silence. Her golden runes hum faintly, an unconscious reaction to her pulse quickening, and she clasps her hands together to keep them from glowing too bright. It was a problem she often had when she was a child.
It is Yoda who finally speaks.
“Too long without a mision, you have been, Luminous. Another path for you now, there is.” His voice is even, but his gaze carries something sharper—concern, perhaps, or warning.
Shaak Ti leans forward, her scarlet headdress catching the pale light. “There is one among the humans who has drawn the eyes of both realms. A scholar by the name of Anakin. He works without knowing what his hands create. He will change much, for better or worse, and we can't leave him without aid.”
Kit Fisto adds with a tilt of his head, “He is under threat. A number of dark spirits already circle him, drawn by what he carries. You will go to him, Luminous, and you will protect him.”
The young angel straightens. She's ready to get back to the field, to do some hard and rewarding work. She can take it.
“Yes, Great Angels.”
Windu raises a hand before she can bow. His dark eyes pin her in place. “You will not be the only one sent.”
For a fraction of a second, the room feels colder. Lumi doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. The Great Angels’ silence explains more than their words do. She doesn’t need to ask the question forming in her chest.
Still, it is Plo Koon -his first mentor- who confirms it, his voice low behind his mask. His patience and calmness has always been extraordinary, even within angels. You had always admired that from him.
“An Arc-demon walks the same path. His task mirrors yours, though his methods will not. He will try to eliminate Anakin, leave no risk at chance. But the human can still be saved. We trust you to give him a second chance.”
The golden runes along Lumi’s arms spark faintly at the thought. She remembers the suffocating rage that had crawled over her skin the last time she felt a demon near, how the shadows themselves seemed to whisper of violence. And yet she cannot help the flare of something else—curiosity, perhaps, beneath the dread.
The narrow alleyway was dimly lit, the walls of the surrounding buildings rising high on either side, trapping the pale light of the distant streetlamps above. The air was thick with the smell of wet stone, the distant hum of a city that never quite quieted. If one listened closely enough, one could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation floating down from the apartment above—the space where Anakin lived with his two friends, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. For the moment, all was calm.
But the calm was deceptive.
In the shadows of the alley, two figures faced one another, separated by only a few feet of cold, damp pavement. The first was Lumi, her wings wrapped tightly against her back, her luminous skin glowing faintly in the dim light. She stood still, her posture tense but graceful, her wide, gold eyes scanning her surroundings—ever watchful, ever aware of the danger that was about to unfold.
Before her stood Echo. The demon’s form was nearly a silhouette in the alley’s darkness, a tall figure cloaked in shadows, his crimson eyes gleaming from within the dark void of his hood. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and though the alley was small, it felt as though the very space between them had grown far larger in his wake.
"You’re late," Echo’s voice cut through the silence, rich with dark amusement and barely contained menace. The words fell from his lips like poison, thick with a biting edge.
Lumi didn’t move, not even to acknowledge the insult. She had no need to. She had a purpose—one far greater than engaging in mindless banter.
"I’m not here to fight you," she said, her voice steady, each word deliberate. "I’m here to protect him."
The demon let out a low chuckle, one that resonated in the narrow space between them, bouncing off the cold stone walls.
"Protect him? A lost cause?" His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his boots scraping against the gravel beneath him, sending a shiver through the air. "You’re wasting your time, Angel."
Lumi’s expression remained unshaken. She shifted slightly, instinctively placing herself between Echo and the narrow doorway to the apartment building just beyond, where Anakin remained momentarily safe with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.
"You don’t understand," she replied quietly, but firmly. "Anakin’s not lost. He has darkness in him, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s beyond saving."
Echo’s lip curled into a half-smile, though the expression was far from kind.
"You angels always think you can save everyone," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "But you’re deluded, Angel. You think your light can save him, but it won’t. The darkness in him… it’s already too deep. It’s been festering for years. He’s mine to deal with. You have no place here."
Lumi flared her wings slightly, the light from their soft, ethereal glow casting faint shadows on the alley’s walls.
"You’re wrong. I’m here to protect him," she said, her voice unwavering. "I won’t let you get to him."
For a brief moment, the demon said nothing. The quiet between them stretched on, thick and heavy with the weight of their conflict. The distant sound of footsteps from above echoed down the alley as Obi-Wan and Ahsoka moved about in their shared apartment, unaware of the dark encounter unfolding just beneath them. Humans were so fragile...
Then, slowly, Echo raised his hand, his fingers curled into a loose fist. The shadows around him seemed to bend, darkening the alley further, thickening with every passing second. The air felt colder, more suffocating.
"You really think you can stop me, don’t you?" he asked, his voice lowering to a deadly whisper as he took another step forward. His red eyes burned with an unspoken promise of destruction. "I’ve been tracking him for days. His darkness is my domain. I’ve already claimed him, whether you believe it or not. And if you stand in my way, I’ll destroy you too."
Lumi’s heart raced at his words, but she refused to be intimidated. She was an angel, and her purpose was clear. She would protect him.
"You can’t claim what doesn’t belong to you," she replied, her voice unwavering. "Anakin is not yours to take."
For a long moment, the demon's gaze remained fixed on her. A strange stillness filled the air between them. The tension was thick—both of them standing firm, unwilling to give an inch.
Finally, Echo let out a low chuckle.
"You won’t stop me," he said, his tone turning cold again. "You’ll regret standing in my way."
Lumi stood tall, unyielding, her golden eyes fixed on his.
"We’ll see," she said, her voice calm but resolute. "Perhaps it'll be you the one to regret it."
Echo’s gaze was firm, unwavering, as he studied her closely, sensing the intensity in her stance. He was trying to break her, to force her to back off, but the angel didn’t flinch. Her emotions were bubbling inside of her, a mixture of anger, frustration, and a growing sense of something deeper—something that wasn’t going to be shaken.
His lips curled into a cold, almost amused smile as he took a small step closer, his eyes narrowing.
"Mm. Can’t remember seeing a furious angel before," he mused, his voice low and teasing. "Are you sure you’re not a fallen one, pretty angel? Wouldn’t surprise me to see one of yours failing to do their task again. More work for me, huh?"
Lumi’s eyes flashed with shock, the words cutting deeper than she expected. She was momentarily stunned by the weight of what he’d implied, but it was enough to send her temper flaring. Her teeth clenched, and she snapped back, the words tumbling out with more force than she intended.
"There are different types of protectiveness," she shot back, her voice sharp and full of defiance. "We’re not all the same like you fucking demon clones. And you wouldn’t have more work to do if you didn’t attribute ours."
Echo’s expression shifted, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’ll be back for this one, Angel," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "We'll see each other again."
Without another word, the demon turned, disappearing into the shadows from which he’d emerged, his presence leaving the air thick with his dark energy.
Lumi stood still for a long moment, the silence swallowing the alley as she watched him vanish. Her wings slowly folded in against her back, the light dimming just slightly. She let out a breath, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. The encounter had shaken her more than she cared to admit.
The space between her and Anakin—just a few floors above—felt impossibly vast now, and the burden of her task weighed heavily on her. But she wasn’t going to back down. She would stop the demon from hurting him.
Anakin hadn’t slept since that night. The dreams hadn’t stopped, only sharpened—visions of ash and feathers, of burning eyes and cold hands reaching for him in the dark. Even in waking hours, something stalked just outside his perception. He’d stopped mentioning it to Obi-Wan or Ahsoka. What could he even say? That something was hunting him? He didn’t believe it himself.
But Lumi did.
She stayed close now, never fully revealing herself, but always there. An unseen warmth that hovered at the edge of his consciousness—a gentle shield whenever his thoughts turned too dark. She walked rooftops in silence, her light dimmed to avoid drawing attention. Her eyes never left him. Not since the alley.
And she knew he was watching too. Echo.
He hadn’t made another approach, but she could feel him—like the chill left by a storm cloud creeping across the sky. The demon’s presence lingered. He was patient. Calculating. Waiting for her guard to drop, for Anakin to break. She couldn’t let that happen.
And yet, every night it was a game of shadows. Anakin tossing in his bed. Lumi, posted just beyond his window ledge, wings wrapped tight. And somewhere below, Echo—lurking, watching, biding.
Until the attack came.
It started as a tremor.
Lumi felt it before she saw it—a rippling, unnatural energy pulsing through the city like a distant heartbeat. She turned sharply toward the alley behind the apartment, narrowing her eyes. Something was coming.
A heartbeat later, the monster revealed itself—tall, sinewy, more smoke than flesh, its form shifting like ink underwater. Its eyes glowed the color of dried blood, and its mouth stretched open in a silent, impossible scream. It was hunting. And it had found him.
Lumi dropped from the rooftop like a blade of light, hitting the pavement hard. Her wings flared, throwing up a barrier just as the creature lunged at Anakin’s window.
The beast collided with her shield, snarling as it twisted in the air. It slashed at the barrier again and again, each impact echoing like a bell toll. Lumi gritted her teeth, golden runes glowing as she fought to hold the line.
“Stay back!” she hissed, light lashing out from her fingertips, trying to push the thing away.
But it was relentless. The creature didn’t stop. It slammed against her shield —and again—and again. Each hit chipped away at her shield.
Lumi grit her teeth and pushed forward, wings flaring again, this time unleashing a burst of radiant force that sent the Rak’hir tumbling into the alley wall.
Her breathing was ragged now. Her energy was draining fast.
The beast recovered faster than she expected.
It came at her again—its limbs blurring, claws slashing. Lumi blocked the first, dodged the second, but the third caught her across the ribs, tearing fabric and drawing blood.
She cried out but didn’t fall. She staggered back, summoned a sharp flash of light to stun the monster, then launched a forceful pulse that cracked the pavement beneath it.
It wasn’t enough.
The Rak’hir shrieked and slammed her back against the wall. Her right wing crumpled against the stones. She coughed, gasped—but still pushed forward, raising a trembling hand to summon another shield.
Her light flickered. Fear —one she hadn't felt in a lifetime, swallowed her. Was this going to be her end?
Just as the creature reared for a final strike—
He appeared.
A spear of shadow sliced through the air, hitting the beast square in the side and slamming it into the floor.
Echo stepped from the shadows like death itself. His red eyes burned.
He was all sharp lines and dark energy, his cloak moving like smoke around him. He didn’t look at Lumi—he didn’t need to. His entire focus was on the Rak’hir.
"You shouldn’t be here," he growled to the creature, voice low and lethal.
The Rak’hir roared in response, but it was already backing away.
Echo advanced.
The shadows around him twisted and thickened, forming jagged weapons, chains, and dark spikes that slashed through the alley with precision. The Rak’hir fought back, shrieking and thrashing, warping its body to avoid his attacks.
Lumi, still breathing hard, forced herself upright. She didn’t trust the demon —not fully— but she wasn’t going to let him fight it alone.
With what strength she had left, she lifted her arms and threw out a shimmering arc of protective light toward Echo, catching one of the beast’s stray limbs before it could hit him.
He didn’t glance back—but he felt it. And for a moment, their movements synced.
Lumi sent bursts of golden force between his strikes, shielding his exposed side with radiant barriers when the beast moved too fast. Echo, in turn, drove the monster back with vicious blows—each one drawing more smoke, more shrieks, more darkness.
They moved together—light and shadow, clashing and complementing, two forces never meant to coexist, fighting as one.
Lumi’s energy was nearly gone. Her vision blurred at the edges, but she kept going. She unleashed a final blinding flare directly into the creature’s many eyes. It screamed—stunned for just long enough.
Echo seized the opening.
He leapt high, shadows coiling around his arms like armor, and slammed down with the force of a collapsing void. The creature buckled, then shattered into smoke and ash. It dissipated quickly; the darkness then inmediately reabsorbed.
The alley fell silent.
Lumi exhaled shakily, the effort of maintaining her stance draining the last of her strength. Her legs finally gave out beneath her. She collapsed to the ground, knees hitting first, then hands, then nothing at all.
Her glow dimmed. Blood ran freely from the gash at her side.
Echo turned, breathing heavily, his face pale and drawn—but still standing. He walked to her and knelt slowly.
She was still conscious—barely. Her eyes met his, cloudy with pain.
“You protected me” he murmured, almost to himself. “You protected a demon.”
Her eyes fluttered, barely open.
“I can’t help someone who can’t be saved,” she breathed, just a whisper now. “I guess… there’s good inside you, too.”
And with that, her body went still.
Echo sat there for a long moment, his hand hovering inches above her cheek. Then he reached out—trembling slightly—and brushed her skin with the back of his fingers. More curious than confused, more admiration than hate.
Soft. Warm. Still alive.
He clenched his jaw, stood, and lifted her into his arms.
He didn’t know what he was doing. Only that he couldn’t leave her to die there.
Echo’s grip on Lumi was firm but gentle, carrying her unconscious form through the winding paths of his realm. Shadows clung to the jagged spires and twisting streets like living smoke, eyes glinting from the darkness as if every corner held a watcher. The air was thick, heavy with heat and the faint scent of brimstone. Every step was a reminder that they were far from the world the angel knew—a place where their counterparts belonged.
“You can’t be serious,” hissed a familiar voice behind him. Fives stepped forward, eyes blazing with distrust. “You’re bringing an angel here? Into our world?”
Echo’s jaw tightened, his eyes sharp and unyielding. “She’s been wounded by a Rak’hir. This is the only place where I can attempt to draw out the darkness he inflicted in her safely.”
Tension sparked in the air. Fives sighed, still thinking this was not the best course of action and wondering why his brother was risking it all for someone who probably despised him and their kin.
“…if Palpatine finds out, we’re all dead.”
Echo’s jaw clenched, his darkness pulsing around him.
“Then he’ll never know.” His words were calm, but the weight behind them made the air tremble.
Without another word, he carried Lumi through an imposing archway and into a chamber hidden deep within the twisting labyrinth of his home. The faint glow of molten rock traced intricate, alien patterns across the floor. It was beautiful in a terrifying way.
Echo laid the unconscious angel down carefully on the dark, cushioned bed in the center of the room. Hours passed in silence, save for the faint hum of the demon realm beyond. Lumi’s eyelids fluttered occasionally, but her injuries and exhaustion kept her in a deep, dreamless sleep. Outside, the demons prawled and whispered, but inside this room, a fragile bubble of quiet held her.
When she finally stirred, a gasp tore from her throat. Her eyes opened to darkness softened by the dim glow of the chamber. Shadows danced along the walls, casting strange, shifting shapes that made her heart pound. Slowly, panic crept in as realization settled over her: she was an angel—alone—in the demon realm.
Every muscle ached, both of her wings trembled. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her breaths shallow. She swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed. Her heart pounded in her ears—not just from exhaustion, but from the reality of where she was. Her mind raced, imagining what could be waiting just beyond the room, in the vast, shadowed halls. She tried to steady herself.
Echo was there, kneeling beside her, eyes dark and unreadable but holding a strange, steady calm.
“You’re safe, Angel” he said softly, perhaps sensing her fear, his voice low and measured. “But I need you to stay here. Do not leave this room.”
Her gaze flitted around, and then back to him. Why am I here? Can I trust him? Or has he trapped me? Is he planning something else? Each thought collided with the memory of the pain she had endured outside, and the undeniable reality that he had saved her.
The demon's hands hovered above her, careful not to touch unless necessary. His jaw was tight, emotions pressed down, contained. He had to leave soon—there was work he could not ignore—but he could not leave her unprotected.
“Stay inside. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone” he ordered, firm but not unkind. “Just rest until I get back”.
Lumi nodded, fear and caution warring with the fragile thread of trust she felt toward him. Her body was weak, her wings ached, but she did not move from the bed. She watched as he stepped back, jaw clenched, eyes flicking once toward her before he vanished into the shadows.
Alone, the weight of the demon realm pressed in on her. The walls seemed to breathe, the shadows whispering secrets she could not understand. Fear, doubt, and a strange flicker of gratitude swirled inside her. Did he bring me here just because I helped him? Is he trying to pay me back? Why did he even step in against the monster in the first place? Why not... Let it kill me, then kill Anakin himself? What does he want from me?
Every sense was heightened—the faint heat from the walls, the low hum of energy in the air, the darkness around her. And yet, even in that terror, a part of her recognized something… protective. Something that told her she might survive this place. But survival, she realized, came at the cost of trust—and she was not sure if she was ready to trust him.
The door shut with a low thud, sealing Echo’s presence out of the room. For a long moment, Lumi sat frozen, staring at the carved patterns on the stone as though they might shift again and reveal some hidden threat.
Silence pressed down on her, thick and heavy. Only the low hum of the walls remained, a deep vibration she felt in her bones. Her golden runes ached faintly on her skin, the faintest flicker of light tracing across them—like her body was fighting the foreign shadows still coursing inside her.
He told me to stay. To rest.
Her chest tightened. Her instinct screamed at her to move, to run, to find light again. But what good would it do? She was in the heart of the demon realm. Even if she escaped the room, there were corridors filled with shadows, millions of demons breathing the same air. They would notice her immediately—her wings, her light, her very soul would betray her.
Her hands trembled as she pulled her knees to her chest, wings wrapping around herself like a cocoon. “Why here?” she whispered into the dimness. “Why did he bring me here?”
The question gnawed at her. Every angel had been taught demons were merciless—executioners designed to kill. But Echo… Had looked at her differently. Not with hunger, not with scorn, but with something closer to… resolve. Determination. Maybe even a flicker of concern.
Her pulse quickened at the thought, and she shook her head sharply. No. He’s a demon. They can’t care. They can’t…
Still, the memory of his voice lingered—steady, low, almost grounding. The protective stance and grip on her. That truth—the posibiliy of demon's being more than the evil tales she had always heard, unsettled her almost more than the shadows themselves.
Minutes crawled by, the voices outside fading. She sagged back onto the bed, trembling, the weight of her fear pressing down like a mountain.
She hated it. The fear. The helplessness. She was an angel—she was supposed to be a guardian, a shield. Yet here she was, hiding in the dark, depending on a demon. Was Anakin even okay?
Her thoughts tangled, a storm of contradiction. He brought me here to save me. He’s the reason I’m breathing. But if he wanted to hurt me, he couldn’t have chosen a crueler prison.
Hours crept by in silence. Lumi had no way of telling time here; there was no sun, no familiar rhythm of light and shadow, only the constant hum of the walls and the faint glow of her own runes whenever she lost focus on suppressing them.
She shifted on the bed, wincing at the dull ache in her side where the monster’s venom lingered. Echo had patched her wound, but she felt weak still. It would probably take a few days of rest to feel okay.
Her gaze wandered around the room, hesitant at first, then with growing curiosity. She had expected the living space of a demon to be cold, barren, perhaps littered with weapons or bones. Instead, the chamber felt… personal.
The walls were carved stone, yes, but smoothed with care, lined with shelves. On them rested small things: trinkets of dark metal, strange stones that pulsed with a muted glow—Lumi didn't think it served any purpose other than purely decorational, scrolls tied neatly with black cord. There was a blade propped in the corner, its edge etched with runes she didn’t recognize, yet it wasn’t displayed like a trophy—more like a tool set aside after use.
Her eyes caught on something stranger still. A strip of parchment pinned above the desk, covered in handwriting. Notes, sketches… diagrams of runes. Demon runes. The sight made her breath hitch. Their scripts weren’t supposed to resemble hers, yet here—though rougher, sharper—she saw patterns that mirrored angelic wards. Almost like Echo had been… studying.
Her fingers itched to trace them, but she forced herself still. Don’t. Don’t touch. Don’t even think it.
She tore her gaze away, focusing on the bed again. Her wings curled tighter around her as the unease in her chest grew. Every angel was taught the same truth: demons had no desire for knowledge, only destruction. Yet Echo’s room whispered of order, of restraint, of someone who did not entirely fit the mold she had been warned about. Of someone who wanted more than what had been first assigned to him.
That contradiction unsettled her more than anything.
Another faint noise drifted through the walls—a heavy step, a muffled growl, voices speaking in low tones. She swallowed hard, remaining in complete silence—almost holding off her breathing, until the sound—the danger, passed.
Lumi exhaled and layed back down on the bed. The room was suffocating, both prison and sanctuary. And she was caught in between—fear gnawing at her, mistrust anchoring her down, yet curiosity and hope creeping in, slow and dangerous like the shadows themselves.
The door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the walls. Lumi flinched, her breath catching as she sat upright on the bed. Echo stepped in, shadows trailing after him like smoke, his chest heaving with the rough rhythm of someone who had just been fighting—or killing. His black clothes were streaked with dark stains, and his hands trembled faintly, curling into fists as though he hadn’t yet come down from the surge of battle.
For a moment he didn’t even look at her, only braced his palms against the table as though the wood was the only thing keeping him upright. Then his eyes snapped to her, sharp and cutting.
“I see you actually stayed,” he said flatly, voice rough, lined with exhaustion.
Lumi swallowed. Her runes itched faintly under her skin, glowing soft gold in response to her unease. “You told me to,” she answered, steady but quiet, cautious.
Echo gave a humorless snort, shaking his head. “I wasn't sure if you'd listen. After all, angels have been ignoring demons for lifetimes.”
The words stung, and a part of her wanted to bite the bait and protest, but she forced herself to push past them. She studied him, the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders twitched like he was still braced for a fight.
“What kind of work leaves you like this?” she asked carefully, nodding toward the stains on his long-sleeved shirt, the restless edge to his movements. “You escaped mostly untouched from the Rak'hir, and that's a powerfull dark spirit. What can possibly...?”
His gaze flicked to her, dangerous now, like she had stepped over a line. “Rak'hirs, powerfull spirits?” he laughed, dry and humourless, his facial expresions hardening instantly. “They're a playground compared to some of the monsters that roam human realm. The evil and darkness we can't kill in time can group and transform into really terrifying things. Anakin's will for sure, it's already begging to be released from that tiny fragile human body.”
The angel ignored the pun, still reluctant to believe what the demon claimed. She had seen light in the young man herself and she just knew he could be saved.
Echo turned away as if to put distance between them.
Luminous pressed on, her voice firmer this time. She was tired of wondering. She wanted answers. “Why did you help me, then? It doesn't make sense. You could’ve left me to die. You'd have free way for Anakin then. Isn’t that what a demon’s supposed to do?”
For a long moment, silence thickened in the small room. Echo’s back was to her, broad and unmoving, but she could see his hands clenching tighter, shadows curling around his wrists like they were drawn to his anger. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, almost bitter:
“Don’t mistake this for kindness.” He turned just enough that his dark red eyes found hers, gleaming faintly in the gloom. “I didn’t save you for your sake. I did it because…” His jaw tightened, the words strangled before they could leave. “…Because letting that poison win would’ve been worse.”
The edge in his voice was sharp enough to cut, and Lumi felt a tremor run down her spine. Standing there now, shadows whispering at his heels and anger radiating from every movement, Echo looked every bit the demon her kind had warned her about.
When he stepped forward toward her, she had to fight the impulse to back up on the bed. The demon's expresion looked murderous; barely controlled enough to hide his hunger to kill. Lumi was suddenly reminded of how vulnerable she was here; not recovered enough to use her runes at her full potential and surrounded by demons who would have no remorse to kill her.
“You don't even know how a Rak'hir's venom works, do you?” he lowered himself down so he was sitting in the edge of the bed, so close Lumi could feel the expanding cold of the shadows playing around him. “The venom it inflicts is the real reason why one should be carefull with that monster. It's not the fact that it can kill you; it's that it will turn anything it infects with part of his soul, evil and darkness that will consume everything until the possibly kind creature you once were is no longer there.”
He was so close to her face now, his features so alive with that burning anger, that Lumi couldn't try to look anywhere else. She was almost mesmerised by his danger.
Echo showed her a tiny, cruel smirk.
“There's a little lie your dear Great Angels have been telling you since your soul was sharpened into form, Luminous. Because at the beginning of the three realms, demons weren't born simultaneously to angels, oh no. Palpatine, the Demon King, was once an angel too, just like Yoda or any of the other Great ones; and it was a hoard of Rak'hir who changed him, poisoned him with centuries of evilness and darkness until no light remained. Until the first Demon was shaped into humanoid form.”
At the shocked expresion of the pretty angel's face, Echo chuckled, finally backing away and standing at the feet of the bed, letting her breathe in the new space. Adrenaline still pounded through his veins, and he made an effort to keep his emotions at bay.
“You can take a read about the actual truth of our origins if you like, Angel” he pointed to one of the shelves pressed against the stone wall and fake smiled “Top shelve, it's the third one to the left.”
The demon dissapeared into the bathroom.
Lumi read, and her world tilted on it's edge again.
Luminous sat cross-legged on Echo’s floor, the book open in her lap, its pages smelling faintly of dust and old ink. She traced the letters with her finger, though her mind wasn’t really on the words—it was on what they revealed.
The origins of demons. According to the book, the first demon had once been an angel, radiant and whole, until a horde of rak’hirs twisted it into something dark, something vengeful, feeding on his light for decades until it extinguished. Everything about it—the anger, the cruelty, the relentless hunger—was the product of that torment. Palpatine had then used a human woman to propagate that same corruption, creating the first generations of demon clones.
Lumi’s chest tightened. She had read it all, absorbed the details, but her mind kept circling back to the same questions. Why had the Great Angels hidden this truth from them? Was it to keep them from fearing monsters, to make them fight without hesitation, without the fear of ending like demons? Or was it… worse? To keep them from feeling? From seeing demons as beings capable of inflicting more than pain or death, from having compassion, from understanding them?
She left the book on it's shelve again and layed down on the demon's bed, gaze fixed on the stone ceiling above her. When Echo came out of the shower, he was quiet too; the anger he had felt before seemingly having dissipated with the blood and sweat.
Lumi’s fingers tightened around the edge of the bed. She wanted to speak, to test the waters, but every word felt heavy, laden with more than just apology. She was still confused, too; too many thoughts and changes to process.
Finally, when Echo settled beside her on the bed, both of them silent, Lumi let her voice slip out, tentative, almost fragile.
“Echo… I’m sorry.”
Echo turned slightly to look at her. His expression was unreadable for a long moment, just the faintest crease between his brows.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “For what happened. Or for… anything you can’t control. I might have over reacted with the adrenaline I still carried from the outside.”
Lumi’s chest tightened further, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to tell him everything—the doubts, the fear, the sorrow for the first demon, about how maybe, just maybe, they could create the first angel/demon alliance—but she didn’t know if she could put it into words. Not yet.
“I just…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers twisted in the edge of the blanket. “…I don’t know how to feel about all of it. About them. About what the angels hid, if that book holds the truth. About… You. And everything.”
Echo shifted slightly closer, the movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. Enough to let her know he was there, not judging, not pressing, just… present.
“You'll figure it out,” he murmured. “One step at a time.”
Lumi’s lips twitched, a faint, tentative smile breaking through. She let herself lean just a little, her shoulder brushing his. The heaviness in her chest didn’t vanish, but it felt… lighter. Shared.
The Safe Temple seemed like a distant memory now. Days had passed since the Rak’hir’s venom had torn through Lumi’s veins, leaving her trembling and hollow, her light flickering like a candle in the wind. She was improving—her glow had steadied, the pain had ebbed—but Echo had warned her time and again: the darkness still nested inside her, buried deep where her runes could not reach. To remove it too soon would be reckless, he said. If done wrong, the extraction could shatter her soul, corrupt her light, or worse—leave her somewhere in between, neither angel nor demon, lost in an endless void.
And so she waited, healing slowly under the unspoken truce of his protection. She did not belong here, in the Demon Realm, but Echo had hidden her well. For now.
That night, she heard him before she saw him.
The door burst open with a slam, shaking the room’s frame. Echo strode inside, his steps heavy, his presence darker than usual. His eyes burned with that unsettling shade of red, wild with leftover adrenaline, and his skin was streaked with blood—some his own, some not. An unstelling painting of red and black.
Lumi froze, not knowing what to do about it.
Echo didn’t look at her. Didn’t say a word. He went straight for the bathroom. Another slam, sharper than the first. She heard the rush of the tap, water running then cut short, the harsh thud of fabric angrily hitting the floor, the creak of pipes as the shower roared to life.
Then silence.
No— not silence. The muted thump of his head hitting the tile. Then two smaller ones, perhaps his clenched fists resting against the shower walls too. Water pounding down, drowning everything except the steady ache in her chest. It was just in her being the need to comfort and help; and she had never done a good job at ignoring the chance to do so.
Lumi sat there, hands tangled in her lap, the book she had been reading now abandoned in the bed, her wings pressed tightly to her back. She wanted to ask, wanted to whisper through the door if he was alright—but fear and caution kept her quiet. If she interrupted him, reminded him that she was technically an enemy... Would he snap back?
Minutes passed, only the hiss of water and the echo of her own heartbeat filling the air. She was on her way to standing up, bare feet brushing the cold stone floor, when the shower cut off. Her breath caught.
The door opened, steam curling out into the room like smoke. Echo stepped into the dim light, bare-chested, only a pair of dark pants clinging to his frame. Droplets of water still ran down his skin, tracing lines between scars—scars upon scars, old ones faded into silver and pink, newer ones raw and red, layered over his chest, his arms, his sides. Battle written into his body like scripture.
Lumi gasped before she could stop herself. Not loud, but enough for the demon to hear her. A sound of shock, of pain that wasn’t hers but might as well have been. He looked... Broken, and yet, so very much alive.
Echo’s gaze flicked to her. Just for a heartbeat; as if he had suddenly remembered he had brought an angel to his own very room in Demon Realm. He scanned her, quick, sharp, making sure she was unharmed—then turned away as if it meant nothing. He crossed the room, shoulders heavy, movements rigid, and collapsed onto the bed beside her.
“Night" he muttered flatly, already rolling to face the wall and not the concerned, anxious expresion on her face. With a flick of his hand, the light went out, plunging the room into quiet shadow.
But Lumi still glowed. Not brightly—just a soft, fragile shimmer, her runes humming faintly against her skin. She lay still, watching the broad expanse of his back.
That was when she saw them for the first time.
Runes. But not like hers—hers flowed in elegant curves, gold threaded with light, each mark crafted with nurturing purpose. His were jagged, sharp, carved deep into his flesh as though angrily torn rather than carefully drawn. Dark purple, crisscrossing one another, their sharpness biting into his skin even in stillness. Not quite similar to the ones she had seen on the parchment on his desk before; those looked somewhere in between.
She stared, her breath shallow, a thousand thoughts colliding in her mind. Questions. Wonder. A quiet ache she didn’t want to name.
He carried scars she couldn’t even begin to count. He was a demon. And yet, sleeping there in the same bed—he just felt like a man. A tired, and troubled man.
He had fought monsters she couldn't even begin to name and still he slept with his back turned, as if imaginary walls between them were safer than facing the worry in her face.
She wanted to ask him. Wanted to whisper his name into the silence, to bridge the endless distance of the few inches between their bodies.
But when she parted her lips, no sound came out.
Because what would she even say? I’m sorry for your scars? Do you want to talk? I don’t know why I don’t hate you? None of it seemed right. None of it felt safe.
So she stayed quiet. His name lingered on her tongue, heavy as a prayer she couldn’t admit she wanted to make.
The exhausted demon soon fell to the tempting, numbing comfort of sleep; but Lumi layed there, glowing faintly in the dark, unable to tear her eyes of the demon's back. A map of purple runes and scars.
The days pass in a strange rhythm. Small conversations here and there, brief moments when silence feels almost companionable. Lumi is healing—slowly, her light returning, though Echo insists it isn’t time yet.
“You won’t stay here forever, you know that, right?” he says one evening, voice quiet, steady, while she fusses with the thin blanket over her lap.
Her anxious glance softens.
“You’ll just need a week more or two, probably” Echo continues, eyes sliding away, “and you’ll be safe to go.”
A warm, genuine smile spreads across her lips. “Thank you, Echo.”
He only gives a short nod, already turning away to implant his imaginary wall. “Good night, angel.”
Another night comes. Luminous waits, watching the door, hours dragging with no sign of the demon returning. Trapped inside this room, Echo is her anchor to sanity. The only thing to entertain herself with beside his collection of books -which Lumi had already gone through half of the shelves-. Her anxiety grows heavier with each minute. A difficult mission? A fight? Has someone discovered her? What if—
The door finally creaks open.
Echo stumbles in, dark eyes dimmer than usual. His chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. He looks seconds away from unconsciousness; the worst shape the angel had ever seen him in.
“Echo—! What-what happened?” Lumi rushes forward, reaching him just before he collapses against the wall.
He groans, stumbling forward with her pannicked aid and fumbling for the small med kit in the bathroom. “Crassar… spines… Need—need you to pull them out.”
Echo winces when he takes his soaked shirt off. Lumi's eyes widen, horrified at the sight of jagged dark spines lodged deep into his side and shoulder. Realisation hits her and she whispers in doubt “…That’ll rip part of your skin off.”
His hands shake as he forces the kit open, jaw clenched. “I-I know. Don’t care. If they stay, they’ll rot the tissue—infect it, then sink into my blood vessels. The longer we wait, the worse it’ll get. I need you to take them out.”
Lumi hesitates. This will hurt like hell. It'll be... bloody. Almost like torture. But he needs it. It's... a different brand of help than the one she is used to offer, but help nonetheless. And she has always had a backbone for tough things.
Her voice steadies, firm with quiet resolve. “Okay. Turn around and sit down. Put a towel in your mouth.”
Echo obeys with a grunt, lowering himself to the floor in front of her. He shoves a folded towel between his teeth, body tense and ready for pain.
Lumi readies the tweezers, her own hands shaking as she steadies the jar for the spines. Her breath hitches. And then, in contradiction- “Breathe.”
He inhales, and the angel grips the first spine. She takes a second to center herself. Then, with a sharp pull, it tears free -at the cost of some of Echo's mostly superficial skin.
A muffled cry is released against the towel, Echo’s entire frame shaking involuntarily with the pain. His fists clench, knuckles white. Eyelids shut holding back tears.
Lumi blinks back her own, swallowing hard. She doesn’t stop. She can't, even if she wants to. She swallows down, and one by one, she extracts the spines, the sound of tearing flesh filling the small room. Each whimper that escapes him cuts through her chest, but she pushes on.
“I’m sorry” she whispers, again and again, words like a prayer as her eyes brim. “I’m sorry, Echo… just a little more.”
Finally, the last spine clatters into the jar. Echo is shaking, drenched in sweat and trails of blood, breath ragged.
Lumi sets the tools aside quickly, scooping balm from the medkit into her hands. She spreads it carefully over the wounds, then closes her eyes, voice trembling as she murmurs healing runes under her breath. The faint glow of her light seeps into his skin, calming the burn, slowing the bleeding. Numbing the pain.
His body sags with exhaustion and desperately needed relief, half-conscious.
“Let’s help you to bed now, Echo,” she says softly, guiding him with steady arms outside of the bathroom.
He stumbles but lets her lead him. His lips twitch into something like a broken smile. “M’filthy. Going to stain everything.”
A breathless laugh escapes her, wet with relief. “We’ll survive. You need rest more than you need to look immaculately menacing, you know.”
She settles him onto the bed. As she tucks the blanket around him, he turns his head, eyes half-lidded but sharp enough to catch the shine of a tear sliding down her cheek.
“…Why are you crying, little angel?”
Her lips tremble into a smile. She kneels beside him, brushing his damp forehead, her touch feather-light with care. “I might be growing fond of you, Echo... You’re not all bad. You scare me sometimes—all that hate and coldness inside you. But… there’s also a quiet kindness. A warmth you seem to be oh so persistent to hide.”
The demon's eyes flicker, unreadable. They don't look as terrifying as she once thought they did. “…You’ve stayed too long down here. It’s evidently affecting your judgment.”
Her smile softens further, her thumb tracing gently across his temple. “Mm. Better not tell anyone, then. Sleep, Echo.”
He exhales slowly, the fight finally draining from his body, and lets himself fall into unconsciousness.
Lumi stays at his side, her hand still resting in his hair. Her thoughts swirl—dangerous, forbidden, but undeniable. Something is changing. In him. In her. The line between them blurring, impossible to ignore. If she's getting lost, she's not sure she wants to be found.
Echo came and went, sometimes returning whole, sometimes wounded, always carrying with him the heavy air of battles Lumi could only imagine. Yet in between, in the quiet of his room, something fragile began to form.
Amicable respect. Tentative conversation.
Lumi noticed first. The way his skin seemed less ashen than when she’d first woken in his world, the cold cast to him softening as though warmth was returning where once there had been only frost. Sometimes, when he didn’t think she was watching, the tension in his shoulders eased, as if the presence of another being —even an angel, a supposed enemy— dulled some unseen weight.
It began with small questions.
Her: “Do you… have dreams?”
Him, after a pause: “Not of things remotely realistic.”
Then his, equally hesitant: “What’s your realm like?”
Her smile, faint but true: “Endless. Bright. Warm.”
They shared fragments — shards of memory, of places neither could visit in their own on the other’s realm without tearing the world in half. And though their words were careful, veiled, each answer laid a stone on a bridge neither had intended to build.
Yet beneath Echo’s quiet voice, beneath this growing, temptative friendship, his thoughts churned.
He should not enjoy this. Not her laughter, soft though it was. Not her gaze, gentle even when wary. Angels were hypocrites draped in light. They had abandoned demons to claw through centuries of blood and evilness alone. Where angels refused to strike, demons bore the burden — slaying men too cruel to let live, monsters and spirits too vile to deserve mercy. They did the work angels deemed themselves too holy to touch.
And for that, demons were called evil. Condemned. Forsaken.
Echo knew this truth as surely as he knew the scars carved into his flesh. Hatred had guided him, sharpened him, kept him standing when all else threatened to break.
But now…
Lumi’s presence unraveled him in ways he hadn’t thought possible.
When she asked about his battles, he wanted to tell her. When she looked at him without fear — or worse, with pity — he wanted to shake her, to remind her that he was born of darkness, that her kind had no right to see anything else. That each of them had their own side of the balance to keep. And yet, when her hand brushed his once by accident, when her light seemed to warm the air itself, something in him tightened, something old and restless and dangerous. Something he barely remembered feeling from when he was a child and had first felt at the sight of his twin, Fives.
She should be his enemy.
Instead, she was becoming a tether.
At night, when she dozed beside him, he found himself often shifting from his usual resting position on his side to stare at her, replaying her words in his head. “You’re not all bad… there’s also a quiet kindness, and warmth.”
Kindness. Warmth. Words meant for another –for angels–, not for him. And yet they burrowed deep, defying the very hatred that had defined his existence.
He hated her for it.
And at the same time, he wasn’t sure what he’d do without it. Those words... Were the hope for Echo's very unrealistic dreams. For the mix of purple and golden runes that were scribbled on the parchments on his desks; the ones he had secretly being working on for decades. His hope.
The days bled into nights, and nights into more of that strange rhythm they had fallen into. Lumi felt herself healing — her ribs no longer screamed every time she moved, her glow had grown steadier, but there was something off. Subtle at first. Her laugh sometimes rang a little sharper than intended, her patience was thinner, and she caught herself feeling surges of irritation that weren’t… her. Her warmth flickered, like a candle threatened by a constant draft.
She didn’t say it aloud, but Echo knew. He had been watching closely — too closely. He saw the way her light faltered in odd pulses, the faint tremors beneath her skin. He knew that poison. He knew it like his own blood.
One evening, after another long day where he had returned battered and she had patched him up in silence, he didn’t lay down right away. He stood at the edge of the room, eyes unreadable, jaw set hard as if bracing himself for a storm.
“It’s time,” he finally said. His voice was low, rough, almost reluctant.
Lumi curled up in the blankets, blinked at him. “Time for what?”
His eyes, dark and endless, flicked toward her ribcage, to the hidden wound beneath. “For me to take it out. The darkness. If we wait longer, it’ll root too deep. It’ll change you.”
Her breath caught. She had felt it. That shadow that didn’t belong to her. Her hand instinctively touched her ribs, as if she could stop the poison from invading her with that. “What happens if you don’t?” she whispered, though part of her didn’t want the answer.
“You’ll turn,” Echo said bluntly, voice like stone. But something flickered in his gaze — something fragile and dangerous. “You won’t be you anymore. You’ll… belong here. With us. With me.”
The words tasted wrong on his tongue. Temptation laced every syllable. The thought of her falling — of her light burning out and becoming dark like his — had haunted him these nights. A part of him wanted it. Wanted her bound to his realm forever, no angel watching, no heaven to claim her. Just him. Just them.
But that wouldn’t be Lumi. Not the Lumi who smiled despite fear, not the Lumi who touched his scars like they weren’t something vile. Not the Lumi with endless compasion and empathy. If she turned, she’d be gone. Her smiles wouldn't be warm, but cold. Her delicate expresions would churn with the burning rage of hate an anger.
He clenched his jaw, fighting the quiet ache that settled in his chest. He couldn't let the voice inside of him that screamed and begged to let the poison take it's route win.
When he crossed the room, his steps were heavy, his aura bristling with restrained power. Lumi’s heart raced, unsure if it was fear or something else. Unbeknowns to him, a similar trace of thoughts swarm inside of her own mind.
He knelt beside her, and rested a hand over the scar that marked her ribs.
“This will hurt,” he warned.
She nodded faintly, searching his face. “I trust you”.
That cracked something inside him.
His fingers pressed into her skin, his power seeping through. She gasped — not eaxctly in pain, but in shock at the pull. It was like icy chains ripping out roots that had latched into her very soul. The venom twisted, screamed, resisted. Lumi’s back arched, breath trembling as shadows coiled out of her, threads of darkness drawn to Echo’s hand.
He absorbed them all. Every drop. Every thorn of venom that had tried to corrupt her, he dragged into himself. And the moment it touched him, he felt it — the sweetest intoxication. A rush of power and something more dangerous, like tasting stolen light mingled with the familiar poison of his kind. It was bliss. It was ruin. It was hers. And it burned.
He gritted his teeth, forcing the pain down. He shoved what the Rak'hir had inflicted her with deep, locking it away inside the endless cavern of his own darkness.
Lumi slumped back against the pillows, drenched in sweat, chest heaving. The wound at her ribs stopped throbbing — it felt clean again. A weight she hadn't even noticed at first suddenly lifted from her spirit. She was safe.
Echo pulled his hands back, trembling, a faint purple haze flickering across his runes as he whispered hoarsely, “It’s done.”
When she looked at him, she didn’t see just a demon. She saw someone who had just given up the very thing his kind thrived on, just so she could stay herself.
Lumi’s heart ached, swelled, overflowed. She reached for him, her hand delicate against the rough line of his strong jaw.
“Thank you” she answered in a heartfelt whisper.
Lumi knew how hard that must have been to him. Not just the physical aspect of that extraction; but the will to do so. To not let the dangerous thoughts win. To let her keep being herself; even if it would make things more difficult to him.
For a long moment, Echo only stared, caught between resignment and a raw ache that felt like a wound. He had only felt that towards Fives before; love.
“Let's get some sleep in” he murmured quietly, the moment vulnerable. “I think we both need it.”
Echo didn't show Lumi his back that night. They slept face to face; staring silently at each other until sleep came.
The night was heavy, almost liquid in its stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of movement outside. Shadows coiled and shifted in the room, thin tendrils of darkness twisting like smoke in the angel's soft light. Echo trembled in his sleep, fingers clenching the sheets, lips parting in quiet whimpers. A shiver ran down his spine, subtle but unmistakable.
Lumi’s eyes snapped open. Her heart pounded, skin prickling with fear, yet instinct drove her forward. She leapt over him, hands outstretched, and felt the first touch of the darkness—a cold, biting sensation—scrape against her fingertips. Reflexively, she radiated warmth, fingers brushing over his shoulders, a shield that pushed against the black tide.
“Echo! Echo!” Her voice cracked like glass, a sharp contrast to the hissing shadows. Breath quick, lungs tight, she pressed her body over his, knees brushing against the mattress. The darkness recoiled, curling around her like a living thing, pushing and snapping, growing angry—but she held her ground, palms pressed to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding erratically beneath her touch.
He stirred, gasping awake, chest rising sharply. His eyes opened, a swirl of red and brown flecked with gold, and met hers. His lips quivered as he exhaled, warm air brushing her cheek. He understood the situation inmedietly.
“Angel…” his voice was softer than she had ever heard it. “Angel, stop. It’s okay.”
“Okay? It's trying to get to you!” she replied in panic. She doubled her efforts and pushed back forcibly at the black shadows trying to surpass her shield. “I won’t let it!”
He lifted a hand, fingertips brushing her wrist, gentle and grounding. Tilting her chin down, he met her gaze with a patience that made her chest ache. “…It’s my darkness,” he explained in a whisper, low and almost sorrowful, the vibration of his voice resonating against her skin. “The evil I’ve conquered through all my life. Each victory... The weight grows heavier. Sometimes at night… it leaks out. To let this physical body rest. To breathe. During the day, I trap it back inside.”
Her chest tightened, lungs stuttering in overwhelming understanding. She felt it—the pressure of years, centuries, compressed around him, and how much he bore alone. She traced her fingers over his jaw, feeling the subtle warmth under her touch, and her thumb grazed a faint tremor at his temple. His skin was warm, his pulse rapid, and the soft sheen of sweat at his collarbone made her ache to soothe him.
“Echo…” she whispered, voice breaking, a few tears running down her cheeks quietly. Her forehead rested against his, and she felt his breath fan across her cheek, slow and deliberate.
He smiled softly, a ghost of light in the shadow of his burden. He almost looked like an angel like this; warm, soft, eyes traced with gold. This is what Echo could have been if he hadn't been forced to play demon, trapping all that darkness inside of him.
“It’s okay. Let go, Lumi. It’ll be fine.”
Her shields dissolved completely, surrendering to the truth of him. She collapsed against him fully, chest pressing to chest, limbs entangling, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat through every inch of her body. Fingers dug into his shoulders, and she wished she could lift even a fraction of the darkness that weighed him down.
The shadows and darkness filtered around her and rushed inside of the demon again, quietening and relaxing inside of his body. His eyes darkened to red again, his skin colder.
“I love you, Echo,” she whispered, voice wet with tears, lips brushing the curve of his jaw.
“You… you what?”
A shaky laugh slipped past her lips, damp with tears. “I love you,” she repeated, firmer now, letting the words sink into the space between them.
His chest tightened painfully. “You… can’t. You’re an angel, and I… We can’t be.”
“It's what I feel,” she murmured simply, closing the last fraction of distance before he backed away.
Their lips met—soft, tentative at first, then deeper, warmer. She felt the tiny heat of his lips against hers, the press of his colder body under hers, his hands tracing the line of her spine, anchoring her in place.
“There is darkness and light in all of us, Echo. Perhaps… this is how we coexist. Perhaps we can love like this.”
He stared, marveling, hand cupping her jaw, thumbs brushing against the curve of her cheekbone. His other hand rested lightly on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body against his. The shadows within him stirred, a living storm, but her presence held them at bay, their chaotic energy rippling against her skin but contained.
“I’ve been trying… to change things.” he finally confessed. Hope rising inside of him. “Learning from angels, their shields, their power… I’ve been creating runes, combining both demon and angel elements. You’ve… seen the parchments on my desk. Maybe…”
Her lips curved softly against his, wet and warm, brushing his jaw as her hands traced the gentle strength of his shoulders and back. “I’ll help you. Perhaps we misunderstood each other all along. Maybe we can work together instead of fighting. After all… our goal is the same: to control the darkness. We'll find a new method.”
He exhaled slowly, muscles relaxing fractionally under her touch. “It'll be hard. Neither of our sides will be supportive. It won’t be easy…”
She pressed her nose softly against his, the warmth of her breath seeping into his skin. “I’ve always liked my life a little complicated. I’m willing to try, if you are.”
His eyes lingered on hers, heart clenching, pupils dark. Finally, he whispered, “Yeah… yes. I am.”
They kissed again, slowly, deliberately, every brush of lips, every press of their bodies against each other magnified. His hands slid from her jaw down her back, spine arching under his touch, while hers threaded through his hair, pressing him closer. The shadows inside him shifted, writhing—but the warmth of her heart, her pulse, her very life pressed into his chest, made it bearable, even soothing.
Darkness rattled inside of the demon's body while he lost himself in the safety and warmth of the angels soul. She was there, steady, luminous, unafraid. Her tiny warmth flooding the cold, and he let himself be held, safe, for the first time in centuries.
Angel's and demon's had once had the same origin, long time ago; perhaps they could melt in one same ending once and for all.
Taraaa! It took me quite long to post this since I had other requests and stuff to write, but here it is finally, the last piece of the 100 celeb! (now we're almost at 200 lol).
I really loved this idea, hope you enjoyed the reading too!
Hey! Got a couple ideas rattling around in my head, I hope one or both strikes your fancy to write :)
RiyoxRex, NSFW, getting together. A dash of hurt/comfort, maybe she takes care of him after he gets injured, maybe she saved his life and in the process revealed she's secretly extremely competent with a blaster. Maybe this secretly turns Rex on 👀 like he's always considered her objectively attractive but knowing she can handle herself AND is fighting for him and her brothers both legally and now physically?? Yeah it's soooo over for him lol major heart eyes.
CrosshairxFem!Reader, NSFW, part pre empire part post empire
She's a spy/mercenary. their first run in is when she's embedded as a dancer at a club, surveilling and extracting intel from high value targets. he buys a private dance bc there's something dangerous in her movements and in her eyes; maybe they're in the process of getting a little "closer" when her cover is blown; maybe she pulls his own hidden blaster before he realizes whats happening and takes down a handful of targets with ease before disappearing into the night.
They meet again years later, maybe she's already in Imperial Custody, maybe she's making a nuisance of herself and he's dispatched to take her off the board. Either way, they get to finish what they started🤭
Mmmm, talking about strong female characters... Since u shaped the second idea more and I wrote about Rex just a few days ago let's go for the Crosshair one! Spicy tension incoming...
Xx, Blue.
"MANTIS" – CROSSHAIR/F READER 🔥💔
WARNINGS: explicit sex scene, sexual and physical violence, alcohol, blood etc. On the gory violent side. I made reader sort of a sociopath lol. It was fun (and a challenge) to write!
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
You hadn't carved your nickname out of nothing; but out of dozens of victims spread around the galaxy who had died in a haze of pleasure so intense their final breath had sounded almost like a moan. And it honestly turned you on most times, too; the way you were able to hon them into your arms, wrap your presence around them with a few words and smiles and watch them gurgle in their own blood with their dicks rockhard beneath you.
Sometimes, if they were real pretty, real special, you actually took them to bed; and waited til the moment they reached glory before stabbing a blade through their pounding heart, their terrified and shocked expressions often triggering your own orgasm, making you moan while you clenched on their cock. Some of those you kissed, too; and oh, nothing was sweeter than the taste of life leaving someone’s lips. You could almost get drunk on it.
Luring them in was also a favorite of yours. Some were easier than others -prey; lonely, desperate, or just too drunk to question their luck. Others were more cautious, harder to reel in. But it didn’t matter. One way or another, they all became just another shadow in your wake. Another body claimed by Mantis, devored in the darkness of the night.
Tonight’s target, however… felt different. You spotted him almost instantly, even through the pulsing chaos of the flickering neon lights. He wasn’t just good-looking—he was magnetic. His silver hair caught the light like the blade that holded your hair together in a messy bun. His eyes, hard and assessing, locked on yours for only a few seconds… but it was enough.
Yes, you thought, licking your lips. Pretty enough.
It only took a few deliberate dances —each move calculated, each glance designed to keep him hooked— before he finally, openly, looked at you. The kind of look that wasn’t just interest, but evaluation. You liked them when they were harder to conquer. When they didn't trust you that much. It made their death sweeter.
You answered with a coy smile, letting your hands trail down the line of your exposed stomach, fingers toying with the thin straps of the tiny sequin skirt you’d chosen for tonight’s decoy. The air between you felt dangerous, fragile; exactly the way you liked it. Oh, this was going to be fun.
You take your time before you decide to close the distance. This man seems to hold more distrust than your previous victims; and you are not one to act hastily, scare your toy away. You slip from your place on the dance floor and prowl toward him, every sway of your hips deliberate, every flicker of your eyes meant to hook him deeper. He doesn’t move —not away, not closer— but those sharp, assessing eyes track your every step, and you know you’ve got him.
The bass thrums through your bones as you swing a leg over his lap without permission, lowering yourself just enough for your skirt to ride higher. Your palms find his shoulders —solid, steady, trained— and you begin to move against him in slow, teasing rolls, letting the heat of your body press into his.
"I don't remember you asking if the seat was taken" he tells you, voice deep and slightly raspy, as if he had not talked in a while.
You know a challenge when you see one; and though you know he thinks of himself as special, with his cold, harsh persona, he really isn't. Men like him have crossed your path many times before; they require a different strategy -more direct, more harsh, they like when you show you also have a bite-, but a game nonetheless.
You smile and make your humping a little more evident; grounding against his hardening cock and arching an eyebrow at the proof that yes, he is definitively inviting.
"Why ask when you can just get what you want?"
The glint in his eyes darkens. You can almost taste it: the slow build of desire, the moment he’ll drop his guard and follow you anywhere. Leaning close, your lips nearly brush his ear as you let a low, sultry hum escape your throat.
"And you, handsome, are you going to let me get what I want?"
You whisper something filthy, something meant only for him, anchoring yourself in his shoulders and finding just the tiniest bit of pleasure while rubbing yourself against his iron-hard dick; and feel the faint twitch of a muscle in his jaw. You can almost taste him in your tongue.
Then you hear it.
Not the music, not his slightly affected breathing —but the faint distortion in your invisible earpiece, the sound it pulls from beyond the club’s noise. Bootsteps. Several. Fast. And a voice you recognize from your past, cutting through the beat that echoes through the walls and makes the floor vibrate with the bass: hunters following your track.
Your pulse spikes —not from fear, but irritation and the slightest ammount of adrenaline. Without breaking the slow grind of your hips, and doing a real effort of ignoring the way your target's pupiles dilate in his desire, your hand slips down to the blaster tucked inside your boot.
The three shots are clean and precise, each blast bright and deafening even in the loud nightclub. The patrons scream, scattering around. Chaos. The hunters bodies hit the floor with a heavy, lifeless drop.
Your handsome man remains utterly still beneath you, eyes wide but calculating, as if trying to decide if you’re an enemy, a lover, or both. You can almost read his thoughts; feel the tension about to snap in the way his muscles coil, his fingers clenching on your hips, ready to attack if you prompt him to.
You glance down at him, the mixture between the adrenaline and deaths and the picture of this beautiful man beneath you making your pussy throb with a heartbeat of its own. Such a shame...
Your lips curl into a regretful smile.
“I’m sorry, handsome. Seems like our fun’s been cut short.”
It's the most difficult thing you've done. More than your first kill, more than watching your home planet burn away in flickers of orange and dust. But you can't stay, take your time to finish him as properly as he deserves. Someone had probably called security already, and you must flee now that you still can.
You forgive yourself for a small greedy act and kiss him. It's barely a press of lips. And then, just like that, you’re on your feet, melting into the chaos before the Corries flood the place.
You don’t look back. Not at the silver hair, not at the sharp eyes still tracking you. But fuck… you wanted to. You wanted to feel him. You wanted his pulse pounding beneath your hands, his breath hitching as the life left his body. You wanted the blood —his blood— warm on your skin. His cock throbbing inside you while you stabbed your blade through his heart.
Next time, you promise yourself. There's rumours of Mantis. On a bigger scale, there's rumours of the ending of The Clone Wars. They do end. The republic ends. The Jedi end. Everything transforms into an Empire.
You jump planets. It takes years for you to find him again.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
It was strange how, after all these years, he could still call your attention like honey to bees. The bar wasn’t the same as last time -this some sort of Jazz instead of electric, more sensual than dirty- but the feeling was identical. Crosshair -you knew his name now, after extensive holo research- was there. Sharper, colder, carved by the post–Empire years. And you were still Mantis. You smiled, and the game was on again.
Your eyes crossed a few times before you finally made your move. A few teasing words, a brush of shoulders, the way your voice cut through the hum of music and reached him. It didn’t take much more before you were leading him back to your apartment, just as you’d planned the first time you saw him.
He was even prettier naked. Lean, sculptured, muscled. The life of a soldier. A bit more thin that you'd have prefered; but it did make the hollow inside his hipbones, the spot in his neck above his collarbone more bitable. And him lossing some weight did nothing on the girth of his cock. It felt so good sliding inside of you that you contemplated -if only for a minute- to spare his life if only to keep him as your personal sex toy. He bended your knees against your chest, then pushed them away to the sides, making himself a spot to fuck you as deep and hard as he could, and it made you cry out in pleassure and your pussy gush.
You didn't like when they got the upper hand, though; so after a few minutes where he could enjoy himself, you switched things around, pushing him to lay down on the bed and climbing on top of him, sinking your nails on his shoulder and riding him to abandon.
He had been made to have sex. He looked as handsome as ever, hands behind his head while watching you bounce up and down on him with hungry, dark eyes. Rockhard inside of you, each slide felt like heaven. You had to actually concentrate not to cum.
But then you moaned, throwing your head back, clenched, and he was done.
"F-fuck!" he moaned too, raspy, almost surprised, his hands flying to sink on your hips, trying to hold you in place and force you to ride him faster at the same time.
You could tell. His panting, the expresion on his face. He was about to orgasm. The small not-decorative blade pinning your bun together felt almost heavy trapped in your hair. Waiting. It's time for you to use me, it singed.
It happened all too fast. One moment, your blade was pressed against his neck, your hair released and cascading down like a waterfall; the next, your back had hit the matress, the blade meant for his throat now in his hand. His fingers were locked tight around your wrists, pinning you above your head, his knees sinking in the soft spot of your thighs right above your owns. Inmovilized.
“You caused quite an impression that day, darling” he murmured, his voice low, almost amused at your growing realisation, at the way your expresion changed with the turn of the tides. “Tried to track down who you were... Imagine the disappointment when I learned the gorgeous girl who almost fucked herself in my lap was nothing but a little sociopath... Waiting for her moment to kill me.”
You swallowed, breath unsteady. Terror, one you haven't felt in a lifetime, starts to pump through your veins. He's too heavy. He has you on a lockdown -trained, remember?- and you've got no way of escaping. He... Can do whatever he wants with you. And you're fucked.
He twists you around so you're facing the matress, his body a heavy weight molded on top of you; zip-lines your wrists to the bed so he can use his hands for other things to come, things you won't be able to resist no matter your will.
“But then I thought… It doesn’t have to be a disappointment.” He dragged the edge of the blade lightly across your naked back — not deep enough to harm, just enough to leave a sting and a thin line of warmth blooming in your skin. “Maybe I’ll stop her little devious plan… and do whatever I want with her instead.”
You shivered, part fear, part something else you refused to name. His voice was low, close to your ear.
“And I’d be in my right, wouldn’t I, Mantis?”
Claws. That’s what it felt like — his nails sinking into your skin hard enough to hurt, enough to make you writhe.
“You’ll be my plaything tonight,” he whispered, dark and calm, “and I’ll be the one walking away untouched.”
It's raw; the way he fucks you, slipping his still hard cock in you without warning and ramming all the way in, pushing your hair back tight with one hand, forcing you to curve for him, while he chokes your breath with the other.
You're half turned on and half terrified; approaching orgasm sooner than you'd have liked. You try to fight it. Not him, you can't physically win; that you take, moaning and crying and whimpering while he uses your body like it was gifted to him. But you try to hold back the orgasm, the ending. Because if he's as twisted as you are, as you think he is, it ends with you closing your eyes. And never opening them again.
Crosshair notices. He leaves a dark chuckle, voice whispering venom against your ear.
"You're close, aren't you? Poor little Mantis" He mocks, and the humiliation is as sweet as infuriating and scary. "Are you sure you want to cum? You know what comes next, darling..."
He smiles, and the tears make races down your face because you know achieving an orgasm is inevitable. For all that you had needed to use your imagination and concentre to cum with others, there seems to be no other option now. You are going to cum.
He's cruel; deliciously stimulating your clit while fucking you as deep as he can.
"Oh, you know you can't... You can't resist it. Because in the end, this, I, turn you on more than anything you've done in your pathetic miserable life."
You hate that you need to beg.
"Please no... Please stop, Crosshair..."
He hums and ignores you. Everything feels tingly, on fire.
"My little sociopath... I'm not stopping until you clench on my cock and my cum is deep and warm inside of you. Come on, girl, just let go so the torment is over. You know it's a matter of time. So I can slit your little throat open, taste the iron of your blood..."
"Please!" you pannick, the words sending confusing but electric signals to your brain, and your brain to the rest of your body. "Please!"
Crosshair fingers make wonders on your clit, precise and the complete opposite to the uneven, raw thrusts he punishes you with.
You shut your eyes hard, tensing every single one of your muscles; and cry as the best orgasm you've ever felt zigzags through your nerves like pure ectasy, devoring everything in its way.
Crosshair fills you up, his warm cum registering in your fuzzy brain just seconds before the warmth of your blood does. A slice across your throat.
You open your eyes terrified. Your body trembles at the dooming perspective of inminent death. Is this how the others had felt?
Crosshair chuckles, dark and amused, happy to make you taste your own blood.
"You're lucky, Mantis" he whispers, and his voice seems to echo in the white silence of your brain in shock. "I'm a bit of a sociopath too, and I'd like to see what else you can do".
He kisses your lips in a kiss too sweet and innocent for the circunstances involved and quickly dresses up y leaves you tied up and bloody in your bed.
Your breathing starts to find a slow pace again; understanding that he had just played you with a superficial cut, that you were in fact still very much not dead.
You know you look like madness laughing in the silence of the room, still tied up and naked, blood drying against your neck.
Taraaaa!! I know this has some inconsistencies between present and past times (happens to me a lot lol), but I don't really have the time to correct them so forgive me for that!
I know this was a bit on the gory-y violent side but honestly it was cool to write, I often paint my characters different shades of the same colour. This was a challenge!
Please don't step into anything without proper consent and a plan. Take care of yourselves!
hot damn, I'm so pleased you went the sociopath route bc THIS-- "And it honestly turned you on most times, too; the way you were able to hon them into your arms, wrap your presence around them with a few words and smiles and watch them gurgle in their own blood with their dicks rockhard beneath you"-- just absolute perfection holy shit.
And what a perrrrrfect Crosshair as her foil, just sickening and beautiful. I love when he's portrayed as more on the dangerous and dark side of the line.--"I'm a bit of a sociopath too, and I'd like to see what else you can do"-- fuck me uppppp.
Hahahaa I'm so glad u liked it! I was a tad worried u wanted to go for a softer, fluffier oneshot and I'd leave you traumatised lmaoo. It was fun to do this dark twist!
Hey! Got a couple ideas rattling around in my head, I hope one or both strikes your fancy to write :)
RiyoxRex, NSFW, getting together. A dash of hurt/comfort, maybe she takes care of him after he gets injured, maybe she saved his life and in the process revealed she's secretly extremely competent with a blaster. Maybe this secretly turns Rex on 👀 like he's always considered her objectively attractive but knowing she can handle herself AND is fighting for him and her brothers both legally and now physically?? Yeah it's soooo over for him lol major heart eyes.
CrosshairxFem!Reader, NSFW, part pre empire part post empire
She's a spy/mercenary. their first run in is when she's embedded as a dancer at a club, surveilling and extracting intel from high value targets. he buys a private dance bc there's something dangerous in her movements and in her eyes; maybe they're in the process of getting a little "closer" when her cover is blown; maybe she pulls his own hidden blaster before he realizes whats happening and takes down a handful of targets with ease before disappearing into the night.
They meet again years later, maybe she's already in Imperial Custody, maybe she's making a nuisance of herself and he's dispatched to take her off the board. Either way, they get to finish what they started🤭
Mmmm, talking about strong female characters... Since u shaped the second idea more and I wrote about Rex just a few days ago let's go for the Crosshair one! Spicy tension incoming...
Xx, Blue.
"MANTIS" – CROSSHAIR/F READER 🔥💔
WARNINGS: explicit sex scene, sexual and physical violence, alcohol, blood etc. On the gory violent side. I made reader sort of a sociopath lol. It was fun (and a challenge) to write!
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
You hadn't carved your nickname out of nothing; but out of dozens of victims spread around the galaxy who had died in a haze of pleasure so intense their final breath had sounded almost like a moan. And it honestly turned you on most times, too; the way you were able to hon them into your arms, wrap your presence around them with a few words and smiles and watch them gurgle in their own blood with their dicks rockhard beneath you.
Sometimes, if they were real pretty, real special, you actually took them to bed; and waited til the moment they reached glory before stabbing a blade through their pounding heart, their terrified and shocked expressions often triggering your own orgasm, making you moan while you clenched on their cock. Some of those you kissed, too; and oh, nothing was sweeter than the taste of life leaving someone’s lips. You could almost get drunk on it.
Luring them in was also a favorite of yours. Some were easier than others -prey; lonely, desperate, or just too drunk to question their luck. Others were more cautious, harder to reel in. But it didn’t matter. One way or another, they all became just another shadow in your wake. Another body claimed by Mantis, devored in the darkness of the night.
Tonight’s target, however… felt different. You spotted him almost instantly, even through the pulsing chaos of the flickering neon lights. He wasn’t just good-looking—he was magnetic. His silver hair caught the light like the blade that holded your hair together in a messy bun. His eyes, hard and assessing, locked on yours for only a few seconds… but it was enough.
Yes, you thought, licking your lips. Pretty enough.
It only took a few deliberate dances —each move calculated, each glance designed to keep him hooked— before he finally, openly, looked at you. The kind of look that wasn’t just interest, but evaluation. You liked them when they were harder to conquer. When they didn't trust you that much. It made their death sweeter.
You answered with a coy smile, letting your hands trail down the line of your exposed stomach, fingers toying with the thin straps of the tiny sequin skirt you’d chosen for tonight’s decoy. The air between you felt dangerous, fragile; exactly the way you liked it. Oh, this was going to be fun.
You take your time before you decide to close the distance. This man seems to hold more distrust than your previous victims; and you are not one to act hastily, scare your toy away. You slip from your place on the dance floor and prowl toward him, every sway of your hips deliberate, every flicker of your eyes meant to hook him deeper. He doesn’t move —not away, not closer— but those sharp, assessing eyes track your every step, and you know you’ve got him.
The bass thrums through your bones as you swing a leg over his lap without permission, lowering yourself just enough for your skirt to ride higher. Your palms find his shoulders —solid, steady, trained— and you begin to move against him in slow, teasing rolls, letting the heat of your body press into his.
"I don't remember you asking if the seat was taken" he tells you, voice deep and slightly raspy, as if he had not talked in a while.
You know a challenge when you see one; and though you know he thinks of himself as special, with his cold, harsh persona, he really isn't. Men like him have crossed your path many times before; they require a different strategy -more direct, more harsh, they like when you show you also have a bite-, but a game nonetheless.
You smile and make your humping a little more evident; grounding against his hardening cock and arching an eyebrow at the proof that yes, he is definitively inviting.
"Why ask when you can just get what you want?"
The glint in his eyes darkens. You can almost taste it: the slow build of desire, the moment he’ll drop his guard and follow you anywhere. Leaning close, your lips nearly brush his ear as you let a low, sultry hum escape your throat.
"And you, handsome, are you going to let me get what I want?"
You whisper something filthy, something meant only for him, anchoring yourself in his shoulders and finding just the tiniest bit of pleasure while rubbing yourself against his iron-hard dick; and feel the faint twitch of a muscle in his jaw. You can almost taste him in your tongue.
Then you hear it.
Not the music, not his slightly affected breathing —but the faint distortion in your invisible earpiece, the sound it pulls from beyond the club’s noise. Bootsteps. Several. Fast. And a voice you recognize from your past, cutting through the beat that echoes through the walls and makes the floor vibrate with the bass: hunters following your track.
Your pulse spikes —not from fear, but irritation and the slightest ammount of adrenaline. Without breaking the slow grind of your hips, and doing a real effort of ignoring the way your target's pupiles dilate in his desire, your hand slips down to the blaster tucked inside your boot.
The three shots are clean and precise, each blast bright and deafening even in the loud nightclub. The patrons scream, scattering around. Chaos. The hunters bodies hit the floor with a heavy, lifeless drop.
Your handsome man remains utterly still beneath you, eyes wide but calculating, as if trying to decide if you’re an enemy, a lover, or both. You can almost read his thoughts; feel the tension about to snap in the way his muscles coil, his fingers clenching on your hips, ready to attack if you prompt him to.
You glance down at him, the mixture between the adrenaline and deaths and the picture of this beautiful man beneath you making your pussy throb with a heartbeat of its own. Such a shame...
Your lips curl into a regretful smile.
“I’m sorry, handsome. Seems like our fun’s been cut short.”
It's the most difficult thing you've done. More than your first kill, more than watching your home planet burn away in flickers of orange and dust. But you can't stay, take your time to finish him as properly as he deserves. Someone had probably called security already, and you must flee now that you still can.
You forgive yourself for a small greedy act and kiss him. It's barely a press of lips. And then, just like that, you’re on your feet, melting into the chaos before the Corries flood the place.
You don’t look back. Not at the silver hair, not at the sharp eyes still tracking you. But fuck… you wanted to. You wanted to feel him. You wanted his pulse pounding beneath your hands, his breath hitching as the life left his body. You wanted the blood —his blood— warm on your skin. His cock throbbing inside you while you stabbed your blade through his heart.
Next time, you promise yourself. There's rumours of Mantis. On a bigger scale, there's rumours of the ending of The Clone Wars. They do end. The republic ends. The Jedi end. Everything transforms into an Empire.
You jump planets. It takes years for you to find him again.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
It was strange how, after all these years, he could still call your attention like honey to bees. The bar wasn’t the same as last time -this some sort of Jazz instead of electric, more sensual than dirty- but the feeling was identical. Crosshair -you knew his name now, after extensive holo research- was there. Sharper, colder, carved by the post–Empire years. And you were still Mantis. You smiled, and the game was on again.
Your eyes crossed a few times before you finally made your move. A few teasing words, a brush of shoulders, the way your voice cut through the hum of music and reached him. It didn’t take much more before you were leading him back to your apartment, just as you’d planned the first time you saw him.
He was even prettier naked. Lean, sculptured, muscled. The life of a soldier. A bit more thin that you'd have prefered; but it did make the hollow inside his hipbones, the spot in his neck above his collarbone more bitable. And him lossing some weight did nothing on the girth of his cock. It felt so good sliding inside of you that you contemplated -if only for a minute- to spare his life if only to keep him as your personal sex toy. He bended your knees against your chest, then pushed them away to the sides, making himself a spot to fuck you as deep and hard as he could, and it made you cry out in pleassure and your pussy gush.
You didn't like when they got the upper hand, though; so after a few minutes where he could enjoy himself, you switched things around, pushing him to lay down on the bed and climbing on top of him, sinking your nails on his shoulder and riding him to abandon.
He had been made to have sex. He looked as handsome as ever, hands behind his head while watching you bounce up and down on him with hungry, dark eyes. Rockhard inside of you, each slide felt like heaven. You had to actually concentrate not to cum.
But then you moaned, throwing your head back, clenched, and he was done.
"F-fuck!" he moaned too, raspy, almost surprised, his hands flying to sink on your hips, trying to hold you in place and force you to ride him faster at the same time.
You could tell. His panting, the expresion on his face. He was about to orgasm. The small not-decorative blade pinning your bun together felt almost heavy trapped in your hair. Waiting. It's time for you to use me, it singed.
It happened all too fast. One moment, your blade was pressed against his neck, your hair released and cascading down like a waterfall; the next, your back had hit the matress, the blade meant for his throat now in his hand. His fingers were locked tight around your wrists, pinning you above your head, his knees sinking in the soft spot of your thighs right above your owns. Inmovilized.
“You caused quite an impression that day, darling” he murmured, his voice low, almost amused at your growing realisation, at the way your expresion changed with the turn of the tides. “Tried to track down who you were... Imagine the disappointment when I learned the gorgeous girl who almost fucked herself in my lap was nothing but a little sociopath... Waiting for her moment to kill me.”
You swallowed, breath unsteady. Terror, one you haven't felt in a lifetime, starts to pump through your veins. He's too heavy. He has you on a lockdown -trained, remember?- and you've got no way of escaping. He... Can do whatever he wants with you. And you're fucked.
He twists you around so you're facing the matress, his body a heavy weight molded on top of you; zip-lines your wrists to the bed so he can use his hands for other things to come, things you won't be able to resist no matter your will.
“But then I thought… It doesn’t have to be a disappointment.” He dragged the edge of the blade lightly across your naked back — not deep enough to harm, just enough to leave a sting and a thin line of warmth blooming in your skin. “Maybe I’ll stop her little devious plan… and do whatever I want with her instead.”
You shivered, part fear, part something else you refused to name. His voice was low, close to your ear.
“And I’d be in my right, wouldn’t I, Mantis?”
Claws. That’s what it felt like — his nails sinking into your skin hard enough to hurt, enough to make you writhe.
“You’ll be my plaything tonight,” he whispered, dark and calm, “and I’ll be the one walking away untouched.”
It's raw; the way he fucks you, slipping his still hard cock in you without warning and ramming all the way in, pushing your hair back tight with one hand, forcing you to curve for him, while he chokes your breath with the other.
You're half turned on and half terrified; approaching orgasm sooner than you'd have liked. You try to fight it. Not him, you can't physically win; that you take, moaning and crying and whimpering while he uses your body like it was gifted to him. But you try to hold back the orgasm, the ending. Because if he's as twisted as you are, as you think he is, it ends with you closing your eyes. And never opening them again.
Crosshair notices. He leaves a dark chuckle, voice whispering venom against your ear.
"You're close, aren't you? Poor little Mantis" He mocks, and the humiliation is as sweet as infuriating and scary. "Are you sure you want to cum? You know what comes next, darling..."
He smiles, and the tears make races down your face because you know achieving an orgasm is inevitable. For all that you had needed to use your imagination and concentre to cum with others, there seems to be no other option now. You are going to cum.
He's cruel; deliciously stimulating your clit while fucking you as deep as he can.
"Oh, you know you can't... You can't resist it. Because in the end, this, I, turn you on more than anything you've done in your pathetic miserable life."
You hate that you need to beg.
"Please no... Please stop, Crosshair..."
He hums and ignores you. Everything feels tingly, on fire.
"My little sociopath... I'm not stopping until you clench on my cock and my cum is deep and warm inside of you. Come on, girl, just let go so the torment is over. You know it's a matter of time. So I can slit your little throat open, taste the iron of your blood..."
"Please!" you pannick, the words sending confusing but electric signals to your brain, and your brain to the rest of your body. "Please!"
Crosshair fingers make wonders on your clit, precise and the complete opposite to the uneven, raw thrusts he punishes you with.
You shut your eyes hard, tensing every single one of your muscles; and cry as the best orgasm you've ever felt zigzags through your nerves like pure ectasy, devoring everything in its way.
Crosshair fills you up, his warm cum registering in your fuzzy brain just seconds before the warmth of your blood does. A slice across your throat.
You open your eyes terrified. Your body trembles at the dooming perspective of inminent death. Is this how the others had felt?
Crosshair chuckles, dark and amused, happy to make you taste your own blood.
"You're lucky, Mantis" he whispers, and his voice seems to echo in the white silence of your brain in shock. "I'm a bit of a sociopath too, and I'd like to see what else you can do".
He kisses your lips in a kiss too sweet and innocent for the circunstances involved and quickly dresses up y leaves you tied up and bloody in your bed.
Your breathing starts to find a slow pace again; understanding that he had just played you with a superficial cut, that you were in fact still very much not dead.
You know you look like madness laughing in the silence of the room, still tied up and naked, blood drying against your neck.
Taraaaa!! I know this has some inconsistencies between present and past times (happens to me a lot lol), but I don't really have the time to correct them so forgive me for that!
I know this was a bit on the gory-y violent side but honestly it was cool to write, I often paint my characters different shades of the same colour. This was a challenge!
Please don't step into anything without proper consent and a plan. Take care of yourselves!
Please god captain Rex + reader MAYHAPS FAKE DATING TROPE? I am grasping for straws 😛😛😛😛 honestly just ANYTHINGG fluffy maybe a little sexy nothing too smutty is all I yearn for 😢😢😢 I am a #realyearner
Let's start another round of requests with this one! I agree Rex is a god and we only have so little to read of him 🥹(remember I've got some other rex oneshots in my profile under the 100celeb list and the omegaverse list).
This request is a classic idea but also fun to write, so here we go! Don't ask me how tf did I get this weird idea, it just popped in my little head. Also, I went for female reader as you didn't specify. I hope you weren't going for male! Remember to always specify that on the requests or I'll probably go for female as default (it's easier for me to write, but I don't mind).
This took me a few days and I've been working on it as an addict. Hope you like it darling. Xx, Blue.
PS. Still taking clone requests.
"MATING SEASON" - CAPTAIN REX/F READER
WARNINGS: DARK BIOLOGY FROM ANOTHER SPECIES THAT THREATHENS WOMAN'S SEXUAL SAFETY (no explicit or implied scene of it itself, but the threat is always layered in the background). This fic is purely fluffly but I thought I should put the warning there in case someone could be triggered by it xx.
NEW MISSION
The harsh winds of the Outer Rim planet howl as you step off the ship, your boots sinking into the soft, damp earth. The air is thick with humidity, and the sky is a bruised shade of purple, lit by two distant suns that seem to burn the horizon in a way that makes your skin feel constantly warm. Around you, a dense jungle grows; trees with twisting, silver branches that curl in strange shapes, leaves that shimmer with an eerie, bioluminescent glow. The ground feels almost sponge-like; as if with every step you’re pushing through a dream.
Though the landscape in Erus is pretty, you’re not here for sightseeing. The GAR has sent you in replacement of Kix -who had been gravely injured in a prior mision and was still under recovery-, following Torrent Company on a mission to the planet. The objective seems simple enough: recover an ancient Jedi artifact -something tied to the history of the Force- believed to be hidden in Erus's deep jungles. The Jedi once had a strong presence here, and with the war raging, it's essential that the Republic secures anything that could tip the balance to their side. You're not quite used to this kind of field trips -you usually stay in the GAR's medical station in Coruscant- but it's not your first either, so you have little problem following the squad deeper into the jungle.
As you advance, the eerie quiet of the world around you grows. The sound of the wind, the soft rustle of the glowing leaves... and the feeling that the very earth is watching. The planet is not just strange—it's alive in a way that feels unnatural. Perhaps that's why the old Jedi stationed here; everything around you feels charged with energy.
Captain Rex leads ahead with his usual commanding presence. His armor gleams slightly in the dull light, and though his helmet hides his face, you know how focused he is. Rex is a warrior; and one of the best. He’s been on countless missions, fought in the thick of battle, and led his men through hell and back. You have only had the chance to share a few misions with Torrent -and personally tended to him back in Coruscant once-; but you don't need to have a close relationship with him to admire him. Everyone does. It's his quiet confidence. The way he makes decisions without hesitation, his calmness even in the face of danger. Loyalty, moral. Courage. There's something magnetic about him, something that makes you feel like everything will be okay as long as you're by his side.
Captain Rex holds a fist up; halting the line of clones following him, everyone growing instantly alert at the signal. The first humanoid aliens has stepped into view. You had studied as much as you had found about them before departure; though there was not much information about Erus's species -too far into the Outer Rim to hold much research- and even that would'nt have prepared you for seeing them in real life.
The aliens are tall—far taller than humans, half towering over you—covered in smooth, shimmering scales that reflect the ambient light in soft blues and greens. Their skin seems to pulse with a life of its own, glowing faintly as though some hidden power is radiating from beneath. Their faces are sharp and angular; their eyes narrow and focused with an unsettlingling look in them. Their clothes, if they can even be called that, are minimal; bands of rough, natural materials crisscrossing their bodies like a form of living armor.
At first, they appear to be watching from a distance. Curious, hidden among the trees and undergrowth. Then one of them steps forward. His movements are slow, deliberate, and every step seems to reverberate with some primal energy. It resonates with how alive the jungle feels. As he gets closer, you can smell him as well; a strange, musky scent, like the earth after a storm, mixed with something more... feral. His eyes scan the group of clones and suddenly lock onto yours. Something in his gaze makes your stomach drop. His stare isn’t just curious... It’s predatory.
The rest of the humanoid group moves in after the first alien; their eyes eventually falling in your figure, scanning you, lingering far too long. You tense, feeling a chill run through your veins as you realize just how much they're studying you. Everything inside you screams for you to run.
A voice breaks through the delicate, fragile silence.
“You... are not marked,” the first of the humanoids to approach says, his words dripping with something you can’t quite place—something that makes your heart speed up at the threath of unkown danger.
Muscles tense, your thoughts race. What does he mean? Marked? Why are Erus's strange habitants particularly focused on you and not the rest? You inevitably think of the obvious difference, and then it hits you: the mating season. You'd read about it, about how this creatures had a different cycle than what ovulation is for humans; theirs lasting a whole three months at a time. From the little information you had managed to find you had thought it to be a simple anatomical difference... But now you fear it’s not just that. It’s something you hadn’t considered at all.
Before you can react, one of the others takes a step closer. They seem taller and lankier now that they're this close to you; and you have to actually tilt your chin slightly up. The alien's eyes flash with a dangerous, hungry gleam.
“You are unmarked,” he echoes the first of them to interact, louder this time. “You belong to no one.”
His words are thick with meaning, and it dawns on you -horrifyingly-that they view you as prey. Not just a foreigner, not just a woman; but something to claim, to take during this time. That somehow, they're allowed to.
His voice doesn't hold the slight surprise of realisation of the first creature; but a grinning, victorious tone to it. The rest of the aliens seem to grow restless at this.
You can feel your heart racing in your chest, terror bubbling up in your throat. Panic seizes you, making it hard to breathe. This wasn’t part of the mission. You weren’t briefed on this. No one warned you about the danger.
Goosebumps rise all over your skin. You want -need- to get out of here.
Just as you're about to take a step back, you feel a powerful presence at your side; Rex. He moves in front of you, his posture rigid, protective. His voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
"Step back" the Captain commands, his voice low and cold.
His hand hover near his blaster, and every clone around you falls into a defensive stance; their weapons ready, but no shots fired yet.
The aliens hesitate. Based on how they're dressed and the lack of modern civilization the planet seems to hold, you'd bet they know nothing about blasters and military weapons. Perhaps they're just momentarily taken aback by Rex’s sheer force of presence and the obvious ready-to-fight position of the others.
“She...” the male alien sneers, sniffing the air in your direction with an almost invasive intensity. “Smell nothing like you. She is unmarked. She is ours to take now.”
The air grows thick with discomfort, but the Captain doesn’t falter. His voice, though calm, is filled with a deadly certainty.
“She’s with me,” he growls. “And no one is going to touch her.”
The alien looks from Rex to you and then laughs; a low, guttural sound that seems to shake the very air around you.
In other circumstances -if you were back in Coruscant-, you'd have faced without hesitation anyone who would have dared talked you that way; but here, in Erus, all the way out of the safety of the Core Worlds, the only thing separating you from these creatures is Torrent. You're forced to swallow your fears down and left watching.
“Now you're trying to claim her?” the creature scoffs. “Mating season will start in a few days. What do you expect, walking around with her like that, unmarked? You’re begging for trouble.”
The fear that grips you makes it hard to focus, hard to think. But Rex stands tall, unshaken, stepping closer to you as though to shield you from them all. You can see the anger and frustration building in his posture. He’s furious, and it’s almost as if he’s taking it personally.
He glances back at you briefly, his expression grim.
“We’re promised,” Rex tells the humanoid, his voice edged with tension. “We’re waiting to get married.”
The aliens break into laughter, mocking him.
“Humans” one of them chuckles, “and their strange customs.”
Thankfully, that does it. They back off, still smirking, still hungry, still watching; but the tension doesn’t fully leave. You feel your pulse still racing, your chest tight with the lingering aftershocks of the confrontation.
Rex stays close, his presence grounding, but there's something dooming in the air. You have the feeling it's not over yet.
2. TEMPORARY SOLUTION
The jungle sinks into a heavy silence as night unfurls above you, thick with stars that shimmer through gaps in the canopy like distant eyes watching from beyond. The air is damp, and somewhere in the darkness, undiscovered insects sing in eerie harmony. The squad sets up camp beneath enormous, vine-draped trees; the blue glow of the portable lamps casting soft halos across the clearing.
You're still rattled. The events of the day cling to your skin like sweat; every word, every stare from those aliens etched into your nerves. You try to focus on setting your medkit in order, organizing supplies, checking gear -anything to quiet the rising panic- but your hands tremble too easily.
Eventually, when the others are distracted -cooking rations, calibrating gear, checking patrol shifts- Captain Rex approaches.
You feel his presence before you see him. There’s something solid about him, like the calm eye in the center of a storm. He nods once, and you follow him without a word. You'd guessed he would want to talk to you at one point or another.
You walk a few meters away, the jungle swallowing up the rest of the world until it’s just the two of you beneath a towering, silver-leafed tree that sways gently in the night breeze. The dim bioluminescence from the leaves reflects faintly off his armor, painting him in ghostly hues of green and violet.
You take notice then that the glow of Erus's plants are similar to the colours of the humanoids skin; which means they would mimetize well in the rich landscape of the jungle. It only unsettles you further.
Rex stands rigid, arms folded across his chest, his jaw tight enough to crack durasteel. The expression on his face is unreadable, but his silence speaks volumes.
“That... was not okay,” he mutters eventually, his voice barely above the whisper of the wind. It’s raw. Honest. Uncomfortable, like he can't even start to talk about it but he knows he have to. “We should’ve been informed about this before we arrived. Someone should’ve warned us.”
You stare at the ground, your throat thick. You’re still trying to piece everything together; what the alien said, how close it came to escalating, how different everything feels now.
“I believe no one knew about this” you finally answer, quietly. “I researched all I could before departure, and though a mating season was mentioned in those articles, there was nothing of the... Nature of it. It has been a surprise for all”.
He looks at you, and you fight to hold his piercing gaze now that his eyes aren't hidden under his helmet.
“We can’t go back to Coruscant now,” he states, low and firm. “We need that artifact. We need to finish this mission. And Erus is too far away from everything to take you somewhere safer. But we can’t risk not taking precautions either. We'll be here for a while until we find the Jedi artifact. I don't want you being hurt because of their... traditions.”
The words land heavy in your chest. No returning home anytime soon. You nod slowly, the reality settling in. You get it. There's a mission at stake. Still, you're warmed at his last words, at how his voice turned worried and gentle.
You don't want to ask, but you have to.
“What can we do, then?” Your voice fills with determination, trying to find your courage.
You had sewed fatal wounds in the middle of oppen battlefields. You're not alone. You can push yourself through this.
Captain Rex drags a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. For a moment, the mask slips; just enough for you to see the frustration, the worry.
“I think the best option is to keep making them believe we’re together,” he says, clearly uncomfortable with the akwardness and necessity of the idea. “It seemed to work before. If they think you belong to me, they’ll back off.”
You blink at him, trying to push through the shock.
“A couple,” you repeat numbly.
The absurdity rings in your ears, and yet... there’s logic to it. A terrifying, necessary logic.
He nods, slower this time. More serious.
“We hold hands. Stay close. Act like we’re...” He hesitates. “Involved.”
You swallow hard, heat creeping up your neck inevitably.
“Kiss?” you manage to ask, voice breathless.
His eyes flick to yours, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of something behind them—uncertainty? Guilt? Something unspoken. “If we have to.”
The thought makes your pulse trip. Not only because of the danger, or the lies you’ll have to tell, but because you'll have to pull off this theatre with him. Rex. The clone you've watched from a distance with quiet admiration. The galaxy-wide famous Captain. And now you have to pretend to be -with him- something more.
You search his face, trying to find any hint of doubt. It must be hard for him; having to pull this ruse after doing the contrary and hiding any aspect of a personal life through all his years alive. Clones are soldiers. Clones are Republic property. It's terribly injust, but no one allows them to have much of a personal life and it must be weird to fake suddenly having one.
But Rex has already made up his mind.
“Alright” you whisper, nodding. “We can do that.”
Something in his expression softens. Just slightly. A glimpse of warmth beneath the captain's steel exterior.
“Good” he says. His voice lowers. “I know this must be scary for you, Doc, but I promise I'll keep you safe.”
The words settle in your chest like a vow. You nod again, too full of thoughts to speak. As the two of you return to camp, you walk just a little closer than before. And still, your mind spins. The brush of his hand. The weight of his words. You’ve barely shared more than a few missions together, but somehow, his presence already feels... significant.
You only hope it's significant for the aliens too.
3. PLAYING THE PART
Days pass in a haze of uneasy routine. The jungle remains wild and watching, and the tall, scaled creatures still hover at the edge of sight, always near, always aware. Whenever they approach, you and Rex play the part. You feel his hand curl around yours with practiced ease, warm and steady. You smile on cue, lean toward him when they’re looking, laugh softly at nothing just to sell the act.
At night, his tent becomes a fragile sanctuary. The two of you lie close beneath the hum of portable heaters -this jungle is surprisingly cold at night, you're not sure how that works-, wrapped in silence. You can hear the rustle of leaves above and the distant chirps of life, but none of it matters when you’re tucked into safety. Rex's body is warm beside yours, the faint scent of his skin mixing with the earthy smell of the jungle.
He never wavers. He’s protective, careful, utterly convincing. And you're more than gratefull; because the world outside this tent sees you as prey. Inside, though, the world feels smaller. A sliver of soft light filters in from the lamp just outside the entrance. You’re both stretched out on the floor mats, armor and gear stripped away, wrapped in the quiet exhaustion of a long day. You’re lying close, not touching; just near enough to feel his presence.
Your muscles ache from hours of climbing, crouching, and pushing through thick brush and collapsed ruins. The artifact still hasn’t been found, though Rex swears they’re getting close.
You’d believe anything he says in that calm, unshakable tone.
He shifts beside you, just enough that you can hear the faint rustle of fabric.
“Can I ask you something?”
His voice is quiet, low enough that you might’ve missed it if you weren’t already listening for him.
You turn your head slightly, resting your cheek against your arm.
“Yeah. Go ahead.”
A pause.
“Nova” he says. “Why that nickname?”
You blink, a little surprised. You hadn’t expected him to ask something so... personal. No matter how you act in front of those creatures, you haven't really delved into personal conversations with Rex.
You glance over, but he’s still staring up at the tent ceiling, his profile carved softly by the outside light. There’s no teasing in his tone, just curiosity. He just wants to know.
You exhale slowly, thinking back.
“It started during the Ryloth campaign” you begin, voice quiet, almost carried off by the wind outside. “I was assigned to the Wolfpack then; first deployment fresh out of medical training. I was terrified. They were a close-knit unit, hardened, half of them carrying more scars than I’d ever seen.”
A smile flickers at the edge of your mouth, the memory unfolding like old paper.
“One of them, Boost, got shot clean through the side. Shouldn’t have made it, but I swallowed the nerves down, and he did. A few days later, same thing. They started calling me with that nickname, then, saying I was... Light in the worst moment, a second chance of living after a big boom”.
You pause, smiling fondly at the memory.
“I called them cheesy, but Nova stuck. I've grown to quite like it.”
Rex lets out a low chuckle. The kind that stays in his chest, that echoes in the comfort of friendly silence.
“That sounds about right,” he murmurs. "It's a good nickname. You're a great doc, you know. You have saved more than one of us more than once".
The compliment warms you, quiet and unexpected. You let it settle.
You lie like that for a little while, listening to the wind thread its way through the trees. You can almost forget where you are; the danger, the mission, the forced closeness of your arrangement.
But you’re not pretending now. And he isn't either. This isn’t a performance. This is just... him. And you. Bonding friends over personal stories.
“What about you?” you ask softly, your voice barely above the hum of the jungle. “If you could be anyone... do anything... what would you want?”
Another pause. This one longer.
You hear him exhale through his nose, a slow release of air. His voice, when it comes, is quieter than before.
“Being a father sounds good enough.”
You blink. The words land softly, but with surprising weight.
He doesn’t look at you. He just keeps staring upward, his features unreadable in the low light.
You hadn’t expected that. Not from him. Not from any of them. Not from someone bred for battle, raised in the barracks, trained to follow orders until the end.
But there it is. The truth of it. Raw and aching and real.
Your chest tightens. You want to say something, but you don’t know how to answer something so honest. So... human.
Rex shifts slightly, as if realizing how much he’s revealed. “It’s stupid,” he adds after a moment, voice rougher now. “Doesn’t make sense. I wasn’t made for that. Wasn’t made to raise anyone. Just fight. Protect.”
His words fade into the space between you like mist.
You swallow against the lump in your throat, heart twisting with something you can’t quite name.
“It’s not stupid,” you whisper. “It’s... beautiful.”
He doesn’t respond, but the silence that follows feels softer now. Warmer.
“I think you’d be a great dad, Rex,” you say, barely breathing the words.
His hand, resting on the mat beside yours, shifts just slightly. Not touching, but close. You can feel the heat of his skin, the strength in his stillness.
Outside, the jungle keeps singing. Inside, the space between you has never felt so alive.
4. IN NEED OF A HUG
The distant calls of unseen creatures echo through the thick canopy, but even they seem muted compared to the tense silence surrounding your camp. The aliens haven’t spoken to you since the first encounter, but their eyes speak enough. You feel them. Watching. Waiting. The way their gazes linger too long, too focused—predatory and assessing. Hoping they'll catch you alone sometime.
You shift uncomfortably on your feet as you glance around. The humidity clings to your skin, thick and suffocating.
Rex stands just a few feet away, deep in discussion with Jesse, both of them scanning a datapad, pointing toward the glowing topographic map of the jungle.
"If we circle around sector 9 and sweep back through the ridge, we'll cover more ground without backtracking—"
You barely register the rest of his sentence.
You move closer, your steps quiet against the spongey earth, until you’re beside him. He hasn’t noticed you yet. His attention is all strategy and terrain and logistics. But you feel uncomfortable, like you want to scratch their dark hungry stares off of your skin.
Wordlessly, you lean in. The gesture is slow, uncertain. You press your side against his; your arm slipping behind his back in a loose, hesitant hug. Just enough to show a physical sign. A warning. You're with him and no one else.
Rex had told you to look after him and do whatever was necessary to feel comfortable, so here it is.
The Captain's eyes shift toward you, and in that small, shared glance, everything makes sense. The unspoken request in the way you lean against him.
Without hesitation, his arm comes around you, steady and warm. His hand lands gently on your shoulder at first, then slides in a slow, protective motion across your back, drawing you a little closer. He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t flinch.
Instead, he picks up the conversation again with Jesse like nothing happened, as if this closeness has always been natural.
“ —If we time the recon right before sundown, we might avoid crossing into those unstable riverbeds. I'd prefer not to get near those at night”
You stay pressed to his side, the heat of his armor warming your skin. His touch doesn’t just ward off the aliens; it grounds you. Anchors you. His thumb makes slow, almost absent circles as he speaks, and though the conversation moves on, your mind is caught in the quiet storm of his touch.
Rex holds you like you belong there. Could you?
5. WORK TIME
Later that day, the sky turns an inky shade of violet, streaked with copper from the setting suns. A few clones are gathered near the campfire, resting after a long day of slicing through jungle brush and dealing with the oppressive humidity.
A murmur cuts through the ambient sound.
“Nova,” Hardcase calls from a few meters away, limping toward the med tent, grimacing. “I think I twisted something.”
You’re already moving before he finishes the sentence, the medic in you slipping into place like muscle memory.
Your voice is calm, practiced.
"Alright. Sit down, let me see".
Hardcase lowers himself onto the crate you drag over, pulling off his boot with a hiss of pain. His ankle is swollen, flushed with heat. Not broken, but it needs care.
You clean, assess, wrap, and brace with efficient hands, murmuring quietly to keep him calm.
“It’s just a sprain. You’ll be limping for a couple of days, but it’ll hold. Try not to put your weight on it. We still have plenty of jungle to explore, so perhaps we can make you some improvised crutches so you don't aggravate the injury while we do that”
Rex watches from a short distance away, leaning against the trunk of a bioluminescent tree. He says nothing, but he sees everything.
The way you kneel before the injured clone, brows furrowed in focus. The careful way you tie off the bandage, checking it twice. The faint frown of concentration, the softness in your voice. How gently your hands move, like this is sacred work. Like they are sacred. Like they matter.
He watches the way Hardcase nods and relaxes under your touch. The way you make pain seem like less of a burden just by being near.
You finish wrapping the ankle, giving Hardcase a pat on the knee and an encouraging smile. “I'll give you some bacta cream for that, use it three times a day until the inflamation goes down. I’ll check how you’re doing tomorrow. You should go get some rest.”
Hardcase grins.
“Thanks, Doc. Good to know you're not just pretty."
You chuckle softly, brushing hair from your face as you stand. You joke with him, finally sending him on his way.
Across the fire, Rex’s eyes haven’t left you. There’s something unreadable in his gaze—soft, but intense. Like he’s seeing something he’s been trying not to let himself feel. Something that scares him a little with how much he wants it. Because this is all pretend, right? He can't even think on wish for this.
You glance over your shoulder and meet his eyes. He doesn’t look away.
You smile inmediately, bright like the sun, and wave a hand at him, ignorant to the mess of contradicting thoughts and feelings swirling in his mind.
6. KISS THE DANGER AWAY
The mission has been advancing steadily despite the rising tension. Each day, Torrent Company pushes deeper into the dense jungle, using old Jedi maps, fragmented temple records, and scanning equipment calibrated to pick up residual Force signatures. The artifact they're searching for is hidden somewhere in the heart of the planet, where the foliage grows so thick it blocks most aerial recon.
The clones mark each cleared area on holomaps with precise efficiency. Now, after nearly a week of searching, only a few sectors remain unexplored; narrow canyons tangled with silver vines and strange energy readings. The sense that they're close is palpable, and so is the pressure. Whatever lies buried here, it’s old, powerful, and almost calling, wanting to be found.
Where the jungle once was eerily silent, it has now grown louder. You see some big colourful felines here and there; adding to the eyes of the creatures who study you. Each day closer to the peak of the mating season feels heavier; like the air around you is brimming with unspoken hunger. The humanoids move differently now. Less guarded. Bolder. Their bodies seem to pulse with a kind of feral energy that makes your skin crawl.
You've seen it; what they do when they think no one's watching. A silhouette against the glow of dusk, a rhythmic movement behind a tree, low moans muffled by the chirping birds and the buzzing of insects. It's not romantic. Somehow, you think the females of their species seem to enjoy it -perhaps the hormones that induce desire peaks at the same time as the males too, you're not sure- but still... It's primal. You haven't got that biological -sort of coping- system. And it's terrifying.
You're walking back from the edge of the temporary camp when a second encounter happens. The squad is gathered loosely, some talking, others packing gear; but Rex is in the middle of a terse discussion with one of the humanoid creatures. The alien male towers over him, his voice low but growing more aggressive with each word. Rex clenches his jaw, tense.
Your steps falter, instinct pushing you toward Rex. You don’t need translation to know this one doesn’t care about diplomatic arrangements or fake bonds. Rex's scent is not enough layered on you, and his gaze on you is dark, invasive. Hungry.
The Captain’s body shifts subtly, placing himself in front of you without even turning his head. His voice is sharp now, warning. But alien sneers, his eyes still locked on yours, and takes a half-step forward.
Rex doesn’t give him the chance to do anything else.
Without warning, without hesitation, he turns, one arm curling around your waist as he pulls you to him. And then...
His mouth is on yours. Not a brush. Not a fake peck for show. A kiss. Full and sure and utterly grounding.
You freeze.
For a heartbeat, your mind goes blank. His lips are warm and firm against yours, the stubble of his jaw brushing your skin. His hand, large and calloused, cradles the back of your head as if he’s done this a hundred times before.
The way he kisses you holds so many emotions, such passion, that you wonder for a sliver of a second if he's possesed by that same need to mark and claim like the rest. Only... Only you'd let him; and it makes goosebumps of nervous pleassure to erupt, not of disgust or fear.
You melt against him. Your fingers grip the front of his armor, clutching instinctively, grounding yourself in him. The heat of his chest seeps through the fabric between you, and you lean in, letting the kiss deepen. His other hand slides lower, resting against the small of your back. He’s solid, real, and for a second, everything else vanishes.
There are no hungry stares. No missions. No fear. Just the press of Rex’s lips, the way he exhales softly through his nose like he’s been holding that breath for too long. The way your heartbeat stumbles, and then races.
He pulls away slowly, almost reluctantly, his lips brushing yours one last time before he looks at you.
His expression is unreadable at first—stoic, intense—but his eyes flicker with something deeper. Something softer. As if even he didn’t expect it to feel like it has.
You blink up at him, lips still parted, still tasting the ghost of him on your mouth.
The humanoid growls low in his throat.
The message is clear. She is not yours.
“That'll save you for now... But if you think just a little kiss will stop our advances in full mating season, you're very wrong.”
Threat thrown, the alien backs off, retreating without another word.
Your fingers are still clutching the Captain's armor. His hand remains on your lower back, thumb tracing small, unconscious comforting circles.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Didn’t mean to surprise you like that...”
“It's okay. I'm glad you did” you whisper, before you can stop yourself.
A flicker of surprise crosses his face. Then… something else. Pensive. Warm.
Neither of you move for a long moment. The noise of the jungle fades back in slowly, like the world is returning to motion. But you don’t really care.
7. ONE STEP CLOSER
The squad moves cautiously through the dense undergrowth, scanners in hand, their soft beeps and pulses the only sounds beyond the chirps and distant calls of unseen creatures. You glance down at the holo-map flickering on your wrist; only five more sectors left to cover before the mission might finally be complete.
Two hours later -your leg muscles starting to ache-, the scanner emits a sharper ping, more insistent. Rex signals a halt. Everyone freezes, eyes darting expectantly through the shadows. By now, the trip has been enough and everyone wants to go back to Coruscant.
“Signal’s stronger here” Rex murmurs, his voice low but steady. “Could be the artifact.”
You swallow hard, heart pounding with a mix of hope and aprehension. Torrent fans out, moving carefully toward the source of the signal, leaves crunching softly under their boots.
Then, from the thick brush ahead, a sudden rustle. Several humanoid figures emerge, their eyes wide and wild, faces flushed with agitation. One of them snarls, stepping forward, teeth bared in a threatening grin.
“Unmarked. Ours.”
Your pulse races, but not like before. Tragical, but you've kind of grown used to this. Instinctively, you press closer to the Captain's side; but you tilt your chin up, eyes not wavering under the agresive stare of the creatures.
Blasters hum to life. Rex steps forward, calm and commanding.
“Back off.”
But the creatures don’t yield easily. Mating season starts in three days, and they're more out of control than ever. The jungle erupts in chaos. Blaster fire lights the dim forest, shadows flickering wildly across twisted roots and hanging moss.
At Rex's command, Torrent moves. It's a defensive formation, keeping every attacker away. The objective is clear; you're too exposed here, and probably outnumbered. You might manage to kill some, but it's only a matter of time until they show payback. And Rex won't lose any brother unnecessarily when they can just move forward and change of sector if they run fast enough.
They make it. They cross a river to one of the four last sectors left to explore; and the humanoids that chase them finally give up. There's more females around, and you're not that much of a price.
At night, everyone is exhausted after setting camp. You skirt the makeshift perimeter quietly, slipping through the shadows to find a spot to relieve yourself. The air still warms your lungs; but it starts to feel colder on your skin.
As you move, eyes adjusting to the dim light, something caughts your attention not far ahead; a small figure, crouched low near a silvery tree. The shape is smaller than the other humanoids you’d seen until now; and there is a sort of fragility in its posture, as if wounded, and that makes you pause.
You should be careful. Being alone out here isn't completely safe, no matter how close to the tents you are. This creatures are fast. They'd out-runned you if you tried. Still, you trust your gut. He doesn't feel threatening or agressive. And you're a doctor; you know it will weight on your consciense to walk away. Thankfully, you still keep your blaster strapped to your thigh.
Tentatively, you raised your voice, friendly but clear.
“Hey… Do you need some help?”
The alien gets startled, its large eyes widening with fear. A faint whimper escapes him, as if he wanted to say yes but didn’t know wether to actually accept.
This could be a trap, but you still have your blaster with you, so slowly, cautiously, you step closer. Well, at least the wound is not fake...
“That must hurt,” you whisper, examining it from your standing position just two meters away.
The alien nods, eyes filled with pain. He seems to relax upon seing you, at least at first sight, don't pose much of a threat.
“Yes… I was just trying to find myself some dinner when I got caught in the fight before. The light…" he whispers, confused. "It got me. I’ve never seen a wound like this. I don’t know what to do.”
You nod.
“It’s a blaster wound" you explain, remaining calm. "The good thing is that you don't lose much blood, it cauterizes almost inmediately. I'm a medic. I can help you, but you’ll have to come back to camp with me.”
The creature flinches, fear evident in its gaze. It's so vastly different than the hungry, dark stares from before that you start to wonder... Is this alien really a male?
“If you’re not aggressive, it’ll be okay" you assure softly.
After a long moment, the humanoid nods again and struggles to stand. You still don't trust him enough to walk side by side, but you take your time going back towards the center of the camp, pausing when he needs it.
“You’re a female, right?” you ask her as you're approaching the first tents.
The alien nods slowly. You hum thoughtfully. She doesn't seem emotionally unstable like her counterparts. You wonder if her hormones will peak up in exactly three days instead of being a progressive escalate.
Rex suddenly appears blaster raised and ready. He looks determined, jaw clenched in controlled anger, fear and something else hidden in his eyes.
The female alien lets out a scared whine, shrinking back.
Quickly, you raise a hand.
“She’s hurt." you explain to him, voice calm, face serene. "I’m helping her. Please, trust me.”
Rex’s eyes narrow, studying the scene carefully. After a tense pause, he lowers his blasters slightly, though his gaze remains sharp and cautious. You shoot a reassuring smile at him.
You ask another clone to bring your medkit, knowing Rex wouldn't want to leave your side until the creature was far gone. You then kneel down, opening your medkit and working efficiently to clean and dress the blaster wound. The other clones watch silently, their expressions unreadable but tense.
When you finish, the alien gives you a small, grateful nod and whispers a warm thank you, slipping quietly away into the shadows, disappearing as silently as she had arrived.
Rex watches the alien leave, instructs the clones to keep a longer watch for tonight, and then turns to you with contradiction clear on his face. Mosty, though, he looks relieved.
A few minutes later, when you're both inside your shared tent, Rex rolling out the mat on the floor, he makes a humming comment, eyes reflecting the flickering of the lantern light.
“Not everyone would have helped those trying to hurt us.”
Cleaning as much as possible of the sweat and the dirt of the day away with a wet cloth, you meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his words.
“This one wasn't trying to hurt us. Anyhow... I can’t ignore someone in pain. No matter who it belongs to” you reply softly, the compassion of a medic threading through your voice. “If I can, if it's in my hand to help, I'll always step forward. This galaxy has too much hate already. We need people that favor peace.”
Rex nods slowly, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usual stoic posture, now revealed without his armour to hide it. You can't help but think on how homey, how normal, Rex looks in normal clothes.
“It was scary” he says, voice low, focusing on laying out his bed roll on top of the mat. “Seing one of them right next to you after the encounter we had today.”
You study the sliver of emotions you can see in his face. A tiny smile makes it's way on your face; he looks almost like a kid who is confesing something he's not proud to admit.
“I'm sorry. I'll try to give you a heads up next time.”
Rex sits down on his bed roll and tilts his head.
“Should I be worried with you already stating there will be a next one?”
You laugh quietly. Rex smiles. It's a rare thing. You're used to seeing his face morph in all kinds of worries and decissiveness, perhaps even a few smirks; but not like this, not a simple, tiny, real, and beautiful smile.
You throw your now dirty cloth in the bag of your to-wash clothes and put it back in your backpack, abandoning it in the corner of the tent, next to the entrance. Then, facing him, you sit down on your own bedroll too.
“Mating season starts in two days.” he points out, after a few moments of silence. “Are you scared?”
You hesitate, then admit.
“A little. They've been backing off with what we have been doing until now, but they still repeat that I'm not claimed yet and I don't know how much of a rational mind they'll have then. I know you guys will protect me but... Things could go south. I don't like it. And I don't know what else we can do to make them think otherwise.”
Rex’s expression tightens. He knows you are all at risk as well.
“Maybe...” he hesitates, but upon seeing you looking at him, at your encouraging nod, he clears his throat and continues. “Maybe we shoud start sleeping together in the same cot. Same sleeping bag. I'm sure you'll smell more like me that way… It might keep them off.”
A flush warms your cheeks at the suggestion, heart thudding hard. The idea feels intimate, and theater appart, it sends butterflies to your stomach. But he doesn't need to know that.
“I think that’s a good idea,” you whisper, voice barely audible.
Because feelings aside, it is. It's impossible for the creatures not to smell the captain's scent on you if you're sleeping pressed together for hours. If anything, you should have thought of it earlier, no matter how akward.
Rex hums and opens his bedroll, laying down on it and keeping it open for you, gesturing for you to join him with a move of his head. You follow his offer, carefully taking a place beside him and trying to ignore how warm his body feels pressed side by side to yours.
He reaches out, fingers brushing lightly along your arm. The contact sends an electric current through you. Your eyes meet. This close, you can't help but remember the kiss. You want to experience it again; but it might be too dangerous, to delve into this when no one is looking, when there's no act to play.
You conform with shifting closer, laying on your side. His arm slowly curves around your shoulders in the same temptative way, threadding the line; a steady weight, a promise of protection.
Your bodies slowly fit together in the small space of the Captain's bedroll.
You can feel his breathing gently fanning over the top of your head; smell the scent of his skin mingling with the damp earth outside. Every heartbeat feels louder, every touch divided between accidental and intentional. Wrapped in his embrace, the world outside fades away; replaced by the simple, undeniable truth of being held safe.
8. MORNING AFTER
The jungle is still draped in a bluish haze when you stir.
At first, you’re not sure where you are; your head tucked beneath a firm chin, legs tangled, an arm draped around your waist like it’s its natural place. Then you smell him; warm skin, faint metal, and the underlying scent of sweat and the jungle. And you remember. Rex. The bedroll. His arms around you all night, and not letting you go once.
You don’t move right away. Neither does he. His breathing is slow, even. One of your hands rests against his chest, and you can feel the steady thump of his heart beneath it. Calm. Steady. Comforting.
Eventually, you shift slightly, just enough to tilt your head back and glance up at him. His eyes are already open. He’s watching you quietly, sleepy but alert. You wonder how long he’s been awake.
“Morning,” you murmur, kind of groggy.
A small smile touches the edge of his mouth.
“Hey” his voice is still deliciously raspy from sleep.
You both lie there in silence for a moment longer, neither one quite ready to let go of the quiet bubble you’ve found. Outside the tent, the camp is beginning to stir; distant voices, the shuffle of boots, the crackle of someone prepping rations over a heat plate.
You sigh, reluctantly pulling back.
Rex lets you go slowly, his hand brushing down your back before releasing you fully, as if comitting to memory.
As you sit up and begin reaching for a new shirt, he catches your wrist gently.
“Wait.”
You glance back, brows raised.
He leans up on one elbow and then reaches to his own pack, rummaging through it for a second before pulling out one of his undershirts. It’s soft and worn, the fabric thinned in places. He holds it out to you.
“Another idea... For the scent thing.” he akwardly states.
You stare at the shirt in his hand, then at him.
“You want me to wear your clothes” you say, lips twitching with the start of a smile. It's just too fun to tease him, you can't let the oportunity pass.
“It’s for strategy,” he reminds you, too quickly, though the flush in his cheeks gives something else away. It's sweet, to see him flustered like a boy and not the soldier he is.
Your smile deepens, warm and slow. You take the shirt from him, letting your fingers graze his on purpose.
“Okay,” you say softly. “I'll wear it then. For strategy.”
You turn slightly to slip out of your top, carefully avoiding the open tent flap, ignoring the weight of his eyes fixed on your naked back for the few seconds you take to pull the worn fabric of his shirt over your head. It falls to your thighs -hiding the shorts you've got underneath- like a small dress, the sleeves practically swallowing your hands. It does smell like him.
You glance back to find him watching you. His gaze lingers on your legs, your arms, the way the fabric drapes against your skin. He swallows, as if you're an ethereal thing to watch, and you try to ignore the way your stomach flips.
“How do I look?” you ask playfully, but your voice is quieter than intended.
His eyes lift to meet yours.
“You pull it off better than me” he says, changing to a light tone as well, and you chuckle and turn around to search for proper trecking pants and your boots to wear.
“We should eat before the squad thinks we’re off doing something scandalous.” you joke, quickly changing into your new clothes and lacing up your boots as tight as you can without them hurting you.
“We kind of are,” he mutters, sitting up and reaching for a new set of clothes before he slips into his armour as well.
You smile to yourself. You forgot how just this, sleeping with a woman in the same bedroll, in a GAR mission no less, could be considered scandalous for someone like him.
You both step out into the waking camp. You're chirper than usual; but a nagging thought swirls in the back of your brain. This closeness will end in less than a week, when you've found the artifact and return to Coruscant. It dampens your mood a bit for the rest of the morning, though you distract yourself joking around with the boys from Torrent. Everthing will turn out okay.
9. SCARS AND RUINS
The jungle is quieter today, as if holding its breath. The usual clicks and calls of wildlife still echoes through the canopy, but they feel distant; muffled somehow, by the ancient stillness of the place.
You’ve been hiking for hours already, weaving through tangled undergrowth and climbing over slippery stones. Your boots are soaked, your lower back and shoulders aches, and you are absolutely certain that at least three bugs have made a new home in your clothes. And for the record, you absolutely hate bugs. But oh well, life is hard sometimes.
Rex comes to a stop by the half-collapsed remnants of a stone archway, some forgotten monument swallowed by vines and time. He glances back at you and the others, reading the exhaustion in your faces. Somehow, he only looks slightly out of breath, which is highly unfair.
“Ten-minute break,” he calls. “Hydrate. And no wandering.”
You drop your pack with a theatrical groan and flop down onto a dry-ish rock beside him. You set down your backpack between your feet on the floor.
“If I get one more vine wrapped around my leg, I’m going to actually scream.”
Rex chuckles, low and warm. He sits down to rest as well, eyes wandering around Torrent.
“You did sign up for an Outer Rim mission” he points out, as if that doesn't give you an excuse to complain.
“I signed up to keep you lot alive” you correct him, getting rid of the sweat on your forehead and chin. “I didn’t know there’d be so much mud and… weird pollen in my mouth.”
He smirks.
“You did get hit in the face with that gigantic flower.”
You narrow your eyes.
“It exploded into my face, thank you.”
“You looked like a rainbow sneezed on you” he says, laughing now.
You lean back on your hands, grinning.
“Glad I could entertain the troops.”
As the laughter settles, your gaze driftes down to his shoulder, where his armor gaps slightly at the seam of his blacks. There, peeking just above the fabric and crawling up towards his neck, you find the jagged edge of a scar. Pale and deep. You hum quietly.
“That one looks like it hurt” you say gently.
He follows your gaze and rolls his shoulder a little.
“Yeah. Christophis. Shrapnel. I was lucky.”
You raise your eyebrows.
“That's lucky?”
Rex shruggs.
“Still alive, aren't I?”
You lean a little closer, tilting your head.
“You ever count how many scars you’ve got?”
“No... I would have to be pretty bored.” He paused. “Or drunk.”
You roll up your sleeve, revealing the thin white scar along your forearm.
“This one is probably my favorite. Plasma burn. Commander Wolffe got trapped in an engine fire. Sinker and I grabbed him just in time, but my glove lit up like fireworks.”
He whistles low, examining the puckered skin.
“That’s a nasty one.”
“I cried for a solid hour after” you admit, mock-proud. “Kix had to bribe me back in medbay with chocolate.”
Rex gently brushes his fingers along its edge.
“Well, at least it looks like it healed fine.”
Your heart skips with the featherlight touch.
“Not like I like the pain in that moment, obviously, but I like how most scars reminds me I did something right.”
The Captain's expression turns serious, softer than you’ve ever seen it.
“You’ve probably saved more brothers than I’ll ever know. Thank you.”
“Least I can do” you sigh. “Considering you clones are fighting this war for us”.
There is a beat of silence. Just long enough to feel heavy, but not uncomfortable. Then you grin, leaning into the banter again.
“So what you’re saying is… I’m basically a medical legend.”
He rolls his eyes with a tiny, tiny smile that feels like a victory.
“A legend that gets slapped by a plant every ten minutes and snorts pollen like cocaine.”
You shove him lightly, mockinly offended, and he chuckles, catching himself before falling off the rock you're both resting on. When he looks at you again, there's a light in his eyes, something easy and warm.
Eventually, he stands up and offers you a hand.
“Come on” he tugs on his backpack. “Let’s finish up this sector before lunch.”
You let him pull you to your feet, ignoring the electricity you feel when your fingers brush.
By afternoon, the jungle is heavy with mist and buzzing life, every leaf dripping with condensation and the low, rhythmic calls of birds echoing through the canopy. You and the rest of the squad are trudging through the last mapped sector; after this, the mission will be considered complete.
Rex walks beside you, his steps steady but relaxed. His gloved fingers brush yours every now and then as you walk, and you wonder if he does it on purpose. If the others notice. Maybe you’re both too used now to staying close. Maybe neither of you wants to stop.
“Hard to believe we’re almost done” you comment, swiping at the sweat on your brow.
“Yeah” he agrees. “Just this sector and we can stop pretending we like camping.”
You laugh quietly.
“Speak for yourself. I’ve grown very attached to sharing a bedroll with someone who hogs all the warmth.”
Rex glances at you sideways, his expression unreadable under the helmet, but you can tell by the way his shoulders shake that he’s stifling a laugh. At the start of this mission, you'd have never believed you could make Captain Rex laugh. More than once.
“You’re the one who practically body slammed me last night when the temperature dropped” he repplies. “I think I’ve got bruises.”
“Not my fault your chest makes a very good pillow” you shrugg uncomitedly.
He huffs out a chuckle.
“Next time we’re on a jungle mission together I’m requesting individual cots.”
“You’ll miss me.”
“Yeah” he admits, deadpan. “I’ll miss getting elbowed in the ribs every two and a half hours.”
You are half-tempted to stick your tongue out of him. You end up controlling yourself because you're not a kid, but a professional.
“At least I don't talk in my sleep” you reply, shooting him a grin.
Rex raises an eyebrow.
“I did?” he sounds more surprised than anything.
“Oh yeah” you nod emphatically. “Lots of ‘flank left’ and ‘cover me, Jesse.’ Some ‘Drop it, Fives’. Really romantic stuff.”
He chuckles, shaking his head.
“Remind me to never fall asleep first again.”
The banter fades into companionable silence as you both step carefully around a patch of glowing fungus. Up ahead, Echo and Jesse are scanning the terrain with a portable holomap, the flickering blue projection glowing softly in the shade.
“It should be somewhere around here” Jesse calls out. “If the historical topography is accurate, there should be a cave system just beyond that ridge.”
“Let’s get this done with” Rex says, his voice slipping back into command with natural ease. “I can't wait to enjoy a proper shower.”
The climb is short but steep, and by the time you reach the ridge, the sun is peeking through the trees just enough to light the entrance to a half-collapsed cave, hidden behind a thick curtain of vines and moss. It doesn’t look like much, just another forgotten crevice in the alien jungle, but the second you step inside, the air shifts, colder and heavier.
The others fan out, helmets on, blasters ready. Rex stays close to your side.
At the center of the cave lies a stone pedestal, ancient and cracked, but still upright. Nestled on it, surrounded by an eerie pale glow, is a small crystalline object, pulsing faintly like it has a heartbeat of it's own.
“That’s it,” Rex murmurs, staring at it with a mix of awe and caution.
You nod, heart thudding. “The artifact indeed.”
10. END OF ACT
The transport hums steadily beneath you, a low vibration that carries through the floor into your boots and bones. The jungle is long behind, reduced now to memory and the occasional smear of mud still clinging to the soles of armor. Inside the ship, the clone troopers are sprawled in different states of exhaustion and relief; helmets off, banter low and easy, the heavy burden of the mission finally lifted from their shoulders. Another victory for the 501st. For Torrent. For Rex.
The Jedi artifact rests in a sealed crate at the back, guarded but dormant. One more relic saved from slipping into darkness. One more needed help to the war against the Separatists.
You’re strapped into the seat beside the Captain, both of you tucked into the shadows near the viewport. Stars stretch into long, elegant trails outside as the ship speeds toward Coruscant. The journey back home has begun, and you can't help but think on how this closeness to Rex is probably about to end. Well, maybe after this you can manage to at least be friends.
He exhales beside you, arms crossed loosely over his chest. His armor is scuffed and scratched, and his buzzed hair has actually grown quite a bit in this month, creating a tiny gradient from darker roots to bright tips. He glances your way, catching your eye with the smallest curve of his lips.
“So” he starts, voice low enough not to carry beyond your row of seats. “Do I get my bedroll back now, or have we reached joint custody?”
You laugh, quiet but genuine.
“Hmm, that depends. Are you going to miss it?”
Rex smirks, looking forward again. You fall into comfortable silence for a moment. Around you, the others are laughing at something Fives said, but it all feels distant; like you and Rex are in your own little space between the stars.
Then, a little quieter, more serious he calls.
“Nova” he starts, your nickname falling from his lips with unusual care. “Back on Erus... There was some things I did for necessity...”
You look at him, the flickering starlight catching in his bright eyes. There’s a vulnerability there, and your heart speeds up at the possible endings and implications of that phrase.
“But not everything. Not all of it.”
Your breath trembles with expectations and nerves. The truth has been lingering between you for days, maybe somewhere between the first side-hug under alien eyes and the first kiss. In the soft, temptative brushes of each others hands. On the hesitant cuddles at night.
“That's good to know” you whisper, smiling vulnerably too. “I'm not a good actor either.”
Rex shows you a tiny hopefull and relieved smile. He shifts slightly, his arm brushing yours, and when your hands rest on the seat between you, tentative, hesitant, his fingers find yours. He doesn’t grip, not right away, just lets the contact exist. Like a question he wants you to answer.
And you do, lacing your fingers together and accepting it with a soft squeeze.
The hum of the ship continues around you, the laughter of the others blending with the engine’s steady rhythm. But it’s quiet between you and Rex now, a different kind of quiet than before. One filled with unsaid things that don’t need words yet. You’ve both come through something strange, something dangerous and… something unexpectedly human.
Outside the viewport, the stars rush by, drawing you both home. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you're heading towards a beggining, not just an ending. A future unwritten. Glancing up at Rex's face, that knowledge sends an exciting warmth throw your veins.
