I knew who Kako was. I grew up listening to the stories from Mother. Her storytelling painted him vividly in my mind as the leader of the Demons' uprising against the Angels, the embodiment of Chaos. The tales often blurred the line between myth and reality, leaving an undercurrent of fear that lingered long after the storytelling had ended.

“You’re just in my head,” I whispered, trying to steady my voice. “This isn’t real.”

Kako slowly circled me, his form becoming clearer in the shadowy void. The tales told of the horrible appearances of the original demons, but no description prepared me for the terror standing before me.

He appeared as a grotesque figure, a man twisted and hunched. Yet even in his distorted state, he towered over me, standing at a height of seven feet or more. Gray skin stretched over his frame, punctuated by long fingernails, yellowed with age and filth. 

“Oh, it’s very real,” Kako replied, his words slick with malicious amusement. As he moved behind me, he continued, “But don’t be afraid, dear child, I will not harm you– I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?” My vocal cords cracked, my throat dry as I responded to him, “Y-you’re chaotic. You only bring pain and destruction.”

He laughed at this, the sound reverberating like the hiss of a serpent. “Pain and destruction? That’s such a limited view, indeed.”

I tried to stand tall. I didn’t want him to see me cower. “Then what are you?” I asked.

"I suppose I can see why some perceive me as the bringer of chaos," he said, stepping into view, his eyes gleaming with dark wisdom. “That’s what happens when you reveal the truth. You see, I strip away the comforting lies, the delusions, and half-truths that people cling to. Those who are weak mistake it for chaos, pain, destruction—yet it's merely the cold, raw truth."

Kako stepped closer, his presence heavy with authority. "You are not weak. You understand the suffering in this world is caused by those who claim to be good, yet they are the lowest of them all. They bring about chaos."

His words stirred memories within me: the angelic Mongrels, who became the King’s guard’s, and the pain they inflicted upon us. Suddenly, the dark shadows around me shifted and twisted, revealing scenes drawn from the recesses of my mind. My brows knit together in confusion and I glanced at Kako, who pointed to the scene before us.

I watched helplessly as a familiar vision unfolded—Serf Seraphiel punished by a King’s guard for merely glancing at a pure one. Cyrus, in his unwavering bravery, charged forward, striking the guard’s jaw with all his might.

“You little rat!” the guard snarled, turning his fury on Cyrus. 

As I watched them struggle, bound and punished for their defiance, an ache of helpless anger coursed through me—a vivid reminder of our harsh reality.

Kako’s voice dripped with a feigned sympathy. “Is this justice?”

The shadows morphed again, knitting themselves into a scene from my own childhood—me, cowering in the corner of my dim room, Father towering over me with hatred etched into his features.

“You remember this, don’t you?” Kako's voice was soft, almost soothing, its intent to penetrate deeper.

“Stop.” My voice trembled, filled with dread. I knew the sequence all too well. 

“The way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you.” He continued. “Your own father despises you, Noemi. He despises you because of your bloodline,” I saw my father as he pulled off his leather waistband, stepping closer to the younger version of me. “He despised you because your face reminds him of your mother.”

“Stop it!” I shout. “I don’t want to see this again!”

"But you need to," Kako insisted, maintaining his calm tone. Even as I closed my eyes, the scene played on, unavoidable– my father’s rage manifesting in violence against my nine-year-old body. Tears filled my eyes as helplessness enveloped me.

The scene warped again, this time revealing my mother. She argued with my father, his fury culminating in a slap that landed across her angelic brand.

"You filthy liar!" he screamed.

I didn’t remember this. Glancing at Kako, my confusion met his crimson gaze—a gaze once terrifying that now appeared tinged with unexpected sadness.

Is that... sympathy?

I looked back at the unfolding scene, my father towering over my mother. "Tell me! How long did you know you had demonic blood?" His rage was palpable.

She knelt, sobbing, her long auburn hair spilling over the floor. My heart ached. She didn’t respond.

“How is this possible?” He raged. “How the hell is Noemi still alive? She’s already eight years old!”

Her reply was soft, pleading. "I swear, I- I don’t know. Please don’t hurt her. The King will kill her if he finds out. He will see her as a threat."

“You fucking dirty demon!” Using his ability, he raised his hand and flung her body across the room, colliding with the wall with a thud. She landed on the floor, trembling as she attempted to crawl away.

A choked sob escaped my throat and Kako placed his hand on my shoulder. 

“Don’t you see?” My father advanced, crouching down and grabbing a fistful of her hair. Her cries cut through my heart. “Don’t you fucking see how this is going to hurt me? How if the King finds out, he will kill me?” 

“P- please, Lucian.” She begged. “You’re hurting me, please!”

"This is your fault," he said with chilling calm, pulling out a dagger. "You brought this by tainting my bloodline with your demonic heritage. The King’s marriage was under the lie of your angelic descent." 

Her eyes widened in horror. “Lucian, p-please! Don’t do this!”

My mother’s words fell on deaf ears. She let out a bone-chilling scream as he swiftly raised the dagger and plunged it deep in her neck. "Don’t worry. I'm going to drain the demon blood out of you."

I cried as I watched Father pull the dagger free, letting blood pour onto the floor. Her expression, locked in panic and choking breaths, would forever haunt me.

There was so much blood.

So much blood.

Father turned away, stepping out of the room calmly as though he hadn’t just shattered my world.

"No, no, no!" I cried, rushing to her side. My hands passed through her neck, unable to intervene. "No! Make it stop!" I pleaded with Kako. "Help her!"

"These events have played out already, Noemi. I'm revealing the truth of what happened to your mother," he replied with quiet finality. "We cannot change the past."

Anger roared to life within me, anger and sadness more potent than ever before. "Why are you showing me this?" I demanded.

"Because I want to help you." Kako bent to meet my eyes, his presence calm. He wasn't trying to intimidate me; there was an unexpected gentleness to him. "You need to understand what he did. This is the man who locked you away, abused you, and tried to erase your identity—not just your demonic bloodline but everything about you, everything you could become. He wants you gone from this world because he deems you impure. Is that just? Is that fair? Is that angelic?"

The shadows shifted once more, revealing my cold, eleven-year-old body hanging in the chamber after the ritual. Candles still flickered, ghosts in the wake of my father’s reckless grasp for control. There he was, standing over my body, waiting. His eyes lacked any concern.

"How are you going to help me?" I asked Kako, a part of me already beginning to trust him.

Kako’s eyes met mine—a transformation in him that softened the menace. The monster faded, revealing the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. His body unraveled, his back straightened, and he had striking silver hair. 

He was just like me. He had dreams about eliminating the unjustness in the world, just like Cyrus and I.

 "We are bonded now,” Kako said, pushing me back into confusion. “I will remain with you, guiding you, offering you power like never before. Just grant me access to this power, and I can help you change everything that's been wronged."

"How?" I inquired, struggling to grasp his offer.

Why is one of the first Celestial demons, standing here, trying to help me?

"Give in to your anger," he instructed. "Let the sadness encompass your soul. Remember your mother." 

Images of her filled my mind—strength wrapped in love. My heart twinged painfully. 

Kako continued, his voice soothing me further. "Think of Cyrus and his father—the prejudice you’ve endured... then simply say, ‘yes’."

I felt the weight of all my emotions crash over me at once. I surrendered, letting those feelings saturate every part of me until they overflowed. 

But part of me felt that something was off. 

“Just accept my help,” Kako coaxed me. “I will handle the rest.”

I pushed down my doubt’s, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to do anything on my own. "Yes," I finally whispered.

Suddenly, everything went dark again, but this time, there was peace.