Most nights I stare down from the rooftops watching the mortals go about their lives, without them ever knowing what creeps and crawls in the shadows around them. Life here in the French Quarter is like no other city.
The darkness around this place draws you in like a drug. The longer you stayed the harder it is for you to leave. The battle between evil versus good has been brewing for centuries. A fight that neither side has ever won. New Orleans is the capital for immortals and the unknown.
The natives believe in everything that others would consider fun bedtime stories because they know them to be true. Then you have the tourists who come for fun and thrills, not heeding the warnings given by the natives. Every night it's the same thing, someone goes missing then a body is found a few days later in an alley, drained of blood with the throats ripped open. Sometimes they never resurface.
Drunk and reckless mortals out for a good time find more than just that, they find the darkness. Mortals don’t believe in angels, deamonons, gods, or any other immortal beings. To the mortals they are the stories they hear around campfires. Lucky for them they are so oblivious to the truth.
Deamonons are our biggest problems to the immortal race. They spill out of the underworld like lava from a volcano. Deamonons blend in with the mortals like most immortals do. They walk around dressed like mortals do, with blonde hair, blue or brown eyes hair each deamonon is different, the only thing they all have in common is that there’re the most evil thing created by Lilith. Deamonons are pure demonic creatures with no souls, reeking of pure sulfur. Only another immortal can sense their sulfur scent, thus making it hard for them to hide. Deamonons’ blood runs black as midnight and they have rows of razor sharp teeth. Their blades are forged from sulfur, making an injury to another immortal painful or life-threating, compared to an ordinary blade. Deamonons have the ability to heal at a rapid rate.
Blessed blades are the best way to inflict pain or death upon a deamonon. Striking a deamonon straight through their heart incinerates them to ash. Blessed blades only come straight from the archangels or the Deity himself. Decapitating one with an ordinary blade works too, except that usually leaves behind a body. Blessed blades were best as they left no traces.
Every immortal has their kryptonite. It all depends on what you are up against. New Orleans is full of random species of immortals. You have your average vampires that avoid daylight and silver. Except for the Original Vampires. They are the elders of the vampire race. They are pure, the original blooded vampires. They are stronger and faster in every way, and they are not so easy to kill. Holy water was nothing but just water to them. They could walk in the daylight just as any other mortal. Beheading or removing their heart is the only method of killing them. Once an Original Vampire makes their first prodigy, that prodigy has the same strengths as their maker, anything after that, the bloodline became diluted, making just your average vampire.
Then you have the phoenacians, they are a mixed bloodline of phoenixes and vampires. That’s what I am, except I’m part something else too. My father is the almighty god of war, Ares. Making me a demi-goddess phoenacian hybrid the first of my kind. I was born not like most hybrid children, with some traits of each parent no I was born with an entire array of abilities-an anomaly I would call myself. We phoenacians (a half phoenix-half vampire) carry mixed traits of both the vampire and phoenix race. We have fangs like the vampires with the need to feed off of blood for survival. From the phoenix trait we have an internal fire we use as our ability. The downside to being a phoenacian is the dark essence we all carry within us. Your dark essence is an exact twin of yourself, except it’s darker and more twisted. Some cope well, others are consumed by it. It’s a daily gamble. You just learn to fight your darkness and pray you don’t let it consume you. If your phoenacian darkness consumes you, your phoenacian coven will banish you to the underworld, making you into what’s known as a phoenacian deamonon. I live a more complicated life than just a regular phoenacian or goddess.
Ares felt it was safer to raise me in isolation away from everyone, after my mother died at child birth. She was a phoenacian princess for her coven. Passing the tittle down to me. Hera created an island off the coast of Greece and cloaked it with her powers so that it couldn’t be detected by anyone. Ares is a very large man with auburn hair like his mother Hera, with dark brown eyes. He could make any immortal tremble where they stand. Except when it came to me. I was the only person who can make him soften; daddy’s little girl. Hera is beautiful and tall with long auburn hair, brown eyes, and long legs. She wore all white like most of the gods did except she was into fashion and shoes. She and Ily are to runway queens.
Who ever said immortality was the best gift ever? It’s a curse for some.
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