Black Heart The demon's Child

Chapter 1 - Birth of Black Heart

The night hung heavy, silent, a warning. And Aria knew full well not to disregard it.

She sat alone in a small, wooden cabin, far beyond the edge of the village, where no one dared go.

Her hands clasped around her swollen belly; with every sharp pain came the reminder of how tonight her world would change irrevocably.

She had waited until it was well after the moon had risen, till the village stirred no more.

There could be no witnesses. Not for this. Not for him. Sweat dripped down her face as the next wave of pain rippled through her body. Aria gritted her teeth and braced herself, pushing harder than she ever thought possible.

The scream escaped her lips but was muffled only by her resolve to be silent. She could not let them hear her. They could never know what she carried inside of her, what she had brought into this world.

The contractions propelled faster, stronger, and then her body could do nothing more but yield to this inevitable incident.

With one final push, a soft cry filled the air, and for a short though endless period of time, it was as if the world stood still. Aria lay completely still, out of breath, her body shutting down in exhaustion, but her heart racing with fear and wonder.

She reached out for the newborn, her hands shaking. Her son.

The child wasn't crying, but his small body slick with birth; there was something else.

Something was amiss-or rather, aflame. Aria's eyes slightly widened as she stared at him. His hair was dark as the space, shining within the candle-lit gloom.

Yet it was not that darkness that so astounded her; it was the fire. Black fire licked delicately from his hair, curling in, alive but without burn.

Aria's breath caught in her throat. She knew what that meant. She had always known, deep down, that he wasn't going to be like the others.

His father's blood ran too thick in his veins.

"He's beautiful," she said to herself in a hushed whisper, her words rougher as a result of incredulity.

The child didn't cry. His tiny chest rose and fell with steady breaths, but his eyes, white as snow, stared up at her with an intensity that had nothing to do with freshness of years. It was as if he already knew.

Aria cradled him against her chest, her fingers brushing through his hair toasted by the flames.

The fire did not burn her, only danced in flickering pulses in the dark; yet she was no less afraid. She could already feel it-what this would mean.

She had to go, and fast. The villagers-when they found out she was bearing a demon's child-wouldn't have any mercy on him. They'd hunt him down, tear him apart, and burn whatever remained of him. They were scared of demons, as they well should be. But Aria wasn't afraid of her son. Whatever he was, he was hers.

Tears welled in her eyes as she wrapped him in the old blanket she had prepared weeks in advance. She kissed his forehead-the flames parted, it seemed, knowing her touch.

She said this to herself in a whisper, but it sounded so hollow. The father, the demon that had loved her, promised her a world beyond this-he was gone now. And she had an overpowered child on her hands in this place. There was nothing left to do but run.

Aria rose to her feet, the bruises in her body a dull ache reminding her of the ordeal she had been through, and reached for the small satchel she had packed for this very moment. There was no time for rest, no time to recover. She bundled up her son warmly, covering him from the cold night, and walked toward the door. Her heart was running in her chest, louder than even the wind outside.

A glance over her shoulder showed the faint glow of the village beyond the trees, its people mercifully unaware of what had just entered their world. She didn't have much time until someone came to check on her. The midwife was suspicious when Aria broke her involvement.

A thick sigh whispered from her lips. She had been running from this moment for so long, hoping on hope that she might somehow escape the consequences of loving a demon. But the love, as she'd found out, had a price. One she would pay over and over again if it meant keeping her son safe.

The baby stirred in her arms and emitted a soft, inhuman noise-like a purr, only deeper, because there was something so much more ancient beneath his tiny body. Aria shivered.

She stepped outside into the cold that bit into her skin. The wind tugged at her hair, as if it, too, knew what was happening.

The shadows clung to the trees, and in the distance, she thought she saw the faint glow of torches; the villagers were already astir. Perhaps they had sensed it. Perhaps they had seen the flames in the sky.

Aria's heart beat that much harder as she hastened her pace down the narrow path away from the cabin. She could not say to where, only that she had to get away, find some place no one would think to look for them.

The night stretched endlessly as Aria struggled uphill through the forest, scraping her skin against the branches.

Her legs buckled with the strain of recent childbirth, but she forced her way up the hill fueled by the most primeval drive-to safeguard her child. Each step felt heavier than the last, and the darkness seemed to close over her like a hood.

Then, as if conjured from her fear, she heard the far-off din of voices-the villagers were coming. Terror clutched at her heart, and she squeezed her son closer still. His eyes, wide and staring, shone dimly in the dark, testament to the power that lay within him.

She quickened her step, her breathing coming in ragged gasps. She had to find somewhere to hide. Anywhere.

The sudden openness of the forest revealed a small clearing, and in the middle of that stood the ruin of some ancient stone building, half-shrouded in moss and vines. It was a place to be avoided, they said, hailing it as cursed. Aria knew the stories, yet she did not care. This was her only chance.

She did not hesitate, but ran into the ruins and clattered on the cold stone. The air inside was damp and heavy, but it was shelter. She pressed her back against the wall, heart pounding in her chest, and listened.

The voices grew louder, closer. Torches, too, flickered in the distance, casting eerie shadows on the trees. They were searching for her. Searching for him.

Aria held her breath and prayed they wouldn't find her.

The child in her arms stirred again, his black flames dimming ever so slightly - as if he too knew a danger. She whispered a quiet lullaby, hoping to soothe him, hoping to keep him silent.

The minutes dragged like hours as the voices began to fade softly. The flickering of the torches moved further and further away until there was only darkness again.

Aria released a breath, her body shaking as relief washed over her. She had freed herself from them, for the time being.

She knew all too well it was only the beginning. They would come again. They would never stop searching for the demon child.

She looked down at her son, his innocent face lit by the soft glow of his flames.

"I'll keep you safe," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"I'll protect you. No matter what." But even as the words were spoken, in her heart she auditioned a dark cloud of doubt: for how long would she run, how long before they find him? And where was his father?