Lord Heron and Her Regency, Magdalene the Iron Maiden, had a long history together.
They were destined to be by each other's side. In hatred and vengeance, they schemed and plotted to see the other's downfall. Both of them were prime alphas of their respective family, and failure was never in their dictionary.
That was why Frau Magdalene was seething with fury when Lord Heron brought home the bundle of joy from his dying omega mistress. A male omega to be the heir of the noblest manor in the Northern region. That was strike one.
When the boy grew up with nothing but love and kindness to give, despite her cruel treatment and the harsh discipline of Lord Heron, that was strike two. Being that beautiful amidst the dumpster of bloodied trash and internal, hereditary politics, Yuri's existence only accentuated how ugly the Eisenberg estate was.
And when he showed his superpower – regeneration and healing, so close to immortality – that was the final strike. The nails to the coffin. Magdalene couldn't let the chance go. She wanted the boy to be experimented on. Dissected into fine specimens. Find inside him that sweet elixir to the eternal.
But to let go of a male omega – a rare one whom every house was after – hurt Lord Heron's greedy heart. He acquiesced on the condition that the boy would return to the main house after his coming-of-age ceremony, when he would be married off to the fittest choice. The strongest, wealthiest, and loyal to Lord Heron's cause.
Ten years had gone by very quickly. No cure had been found from the boy's blood, limbs, and tears. The bones were broken and healed by themselves. The wounds cut open then closed up again, leaving no trace behind. Bandages were a second layer of clothing to Yuri von Eisenberg, and he never thought twice about the how or the why of it.
Another ten years, and the strange rumors began. The boy stopped aging. He remained the same height, same body type, same features as when he was seventeen. Nacht, now a fine man of thirty, stole him aside, warned him, "The next time the Lord arrived, they will take you away for good. I heard them. You are an omega. You were supposed to have your heat. But the constant experiments prevent that. They will take you away and sell you off to some old, grumpy alpha. Run, Yuri. Run fast. Run far."
"But Nacht, that's silly." Yuri took a big bite of the sweet pan, filling his mouth with custard cream. "I already have a mate."
"Yeah, the mysterious man whose name you don't remember and suspiciously promised to kill everyone. Children have imaginary friends, Yuri." Nacht sighed in exasperation. He wanted to open Yuri's brain to see what was in there, what made the boy so stupidly kind and unaware of the world's danger.
"I know his name. I just don't think there's a need to call him. Plus, he stopped coming by a long time ago. I suppose he's busy." Yuri wiped his mouth with a corner of his sleeve. "Lord Heron also agrees that once the experiment ended, he would release us all. Everything will be fine." He beamed.
"You just wait and see. Nothing good ever comes out of that rotten Eisenberg house." Nacht spat on the floor.
"Even me, Nacht?" Yuri asked sheepishly, twirling the hem of his shirt, shuffling his feet. "Lord Heron had his reason, so –"
"Not you. You are different. You don't belong to their kind." Nacht snapped, then retreated awkwardly. "Lord Heron is another matter. I wonder why a monster like him can produce an angel like you."
"Awe, Nacht, you are the kindest person I know. Amir, too. And Lola. And Frau Henrietta from the mess hall. She gave me a lot of custard buns. And –" Yuri counted each person on his hands. The sparks never left his violet eyes.
"You should reread the definition of the word 'kindest,' you little –" Nacht turned his head away, flushing red to the ear. Yuri grinned, lips glossy with the cream and butter from the pan:
"Everyone is good at heart. I don't make comparisons like that."
The next day, Lord Heron and Her Regency arrived to inspect. But this time, it was drowned in dark speculation and fear. Trailing after them were the representatives of the most respectable houses in the Assassins' Creed. Donning fancy cloaks and feathers, they were there to witness the miracle that the prize they wanted to buy could perform.
Nacht watched the procession of counts and countesses stream inside the auditorium, and fear dripped down his face in cold sweat. He ran as fast as he could toward the mess hall, where Amir and Lola still hung around Yuri, trying to tie his long hair into a braid.
"Abort. Quick. They are here." Nacht screamed
"Big brother Nacht –?" Lola was confused. But before she could finish her sentence, a bullet whizzed through the air, pierced her head, and blew it apart. She slid down the bench. Her eyes still remained shocked.
Nacht turned around, trying to find where the bullet came from, when Amir shouted, "Watch out!" But it was far too late. Someone tackled Amir to the ground, injected a liquid into him. At least, it was a quick and painless ending. Yuri sat there, looking utterly shattered and broken. Nacht shook his head like a madman. This wasn't what he wanted for his angel. "Run." His voice shook, his whole body trembled. "Please, run." A man in full body armor was approaching him from behind. Yuri lunged forward, crying: "Don't hurt him."
It wasn't enough. Nacht fell with a heavy thud on the floor. His head exploded. His face was no longer recognizable.
The three men approached Yuri with calculated speed. They knew the young master, though condemned to experimentation, was trained by the Lord in the art of assassination. But to their surprise, Yuri remained motionless. He tried to reach for Lola's corpse, hoping he can heal the burst head. A defeating agony marred his heart, and the ache kept him from seeing the danger he was in.
With deft movements, one man caught the heir by his long, unfinished braid. The bandages on his body loosened bit by bit. A flood of spectators poured in, each one of them cooing at the wounds that were healing and regenerating by themselves. He heard the price. Someone said something about a contract. The bandage on his chest fell off, revealing the tattoo of a star locked inside a universe.
Suddenly, his eyes shone aglow. The starry violet sky turned a dark, furious amethyst with lightning and thunder. The opalescent hair grew longer and was woven around him like a guardian nest. Above his head, a ring of platinum aura was shining, defining his name in the air. The quivering voice of someone from a tremulous past reached his ear: Thy name will be –
"Zephariel." A tear ran down his cheek, forming a silver drop when it reached the floor. "I call upon thee."
A burst of fire engulfed the whole facility. Golden hair. Azure eyes. And the promise of destruction was delivered reverently on his knees. Zephariel kissed the feet of the Supreme Deity, who was just awakened. "Yuriel, I have always been calling for thee."
He turned around, looking at each of the frightened mortal faces in the crowd, smiling with wickedness and bloodlust. "Now, let's resume the dance, shall we?"