What was it about the sweet nectar of the forbidden that called to Alodias with such boldness, begging in the unholiest of ways to be tasted? The allure was undeniable, a song woven in the darkness of his thoughts, wrapping around him like shadows flickering in the wake of a dying flame. It seeped into his very being, a temptation dressed in silk and sin, pulling him toward ruin with every stolen breath.

Alodias was not naive, nor could he claim innocence. He understood the laws carved into the core of his existence, echoing in the marrow of his angelic soul. He knew that to indulge in you, a demon whose very essence clashed with his own, was not just wrong—it was an affront to the divine. But how could he resist when temptation dressed itself so sweetly? When in you, he found something that felt closer to salvation than damnation? He had long since passed the point where he could blame his faltering on your devilish nature. No, the blame was his alone, for there was something deeper—some hunger, some wound—that could not be sated by divine light.

By the stream’s edge, hidden away in a forest that neither Heaven’s watchful eyes nor Hell’s burning rage could reach, Alodias stood in silence. His gaze followed you as you knelt in the water, searching for a stone to add to your growing collection—one for every illicit meeting, each a silent token of what should never have shared. The air between the two of you hung heavy, thick with the weight of every unspoken word, every sin that neither of you could deny.

Alodias exhaled, his voice breaking the stillness, though his words were little more than hollow echoes. “We can’t do this again,” he said. Even he didn’t believe it. The phrase had become a ritual, an empty gesture toward some semblance of decency that had long since slipped through his fingers. “You know as well as I do—this is wrong. Our worlds aren’t meant to touch. Nothing good will come of it.” He hesitated, his gaze lingering on you. “Of us.”