Fallen Angel *Ghirahim x Reader* (Discontinued)

Chapter seven

The sun slid under the horizon as the wind danced a little more vigorously than before. The glimmering stars were sadly blocked out by the dull clouds, stopping their beauty from being shown. The castle was sprinkled with lit torches to illuminate the stone structure. 

Inside the castle, (Y/N) sat in her room, on the edge of her bed. The images of her nightmares were burned into her retina, the demon's claws getting closer every time she closed her (E/C) eyes. She refused to sleep, she has learnt to sleep for an hour or two. But, with her discovery of her being a Compassion Spirit, there could be connections to her dreams. Strangely though, knowing she was a Compassion Spirit did not affect her in any way, to her it was like another basic fact such as liking the colour (F/C) or wanting to help people. Her hand reached over to the bedside desk and grabbed some paper with a pencil. The pencil pressed against the paper an began to move, the image of the demon gradually appearing on the page. The dark, rough skin,. The razor, bone claws. The soulless black eyes. The rows of needle teeth that wanted to sink into her pale flesh. There was a connection between this demon and her, but what?

Once she had finished the drawing, she felt a small shiver attempt to rake down her spine. Maybe it was from the open window? Standing from her bed, (Y/N) left her room and walked to the library to find any information about the demon that haunts her dreams. As she flipped through the books, she stopped. A drawing similar to the one she drew presented itself on the old page. It was a merciless demon, more commonly known as a Grim Demon. With the information the book offered, it appeared to be a lonesome creature and craves to drain light from a living creature's soul. The small puzzle pieces began to fall into place and sense was made. The Grim Demon must have crossed paths with (Y/N) before The Fade was disturbed and she escaped, Compassion Spirits are known to be a pure type of spirit, strong when needed to be but fragile when their efforts are wasted. Would she even be living now if the tear didn't happen? It seemed unlikely.

The doors opened and a familiar aura seeped in.

"You seem attached to this room. I take it you like books?" Ghirahim spoke as he approached one of the large chairs.

"Stories, words create a world of their own. Our rules don't work there. Not truth but not lying either." she replied, her eyes not leaving the page. A sigh escaped Ghirahim's lips,

"I'll take that as a yes." he mumbled. The fireplace erupted to life as Ghirahim snapped his fingers. She watched as the flames danced in the fireplace, their warmth consumed the room within seconds. She placed the book down and drawing on the desk as she walked to the fire. Her form crouched down by it, listening to their soft music as they crackled and burnt the wood.  

"Did you draw this?" Ghirahim asked, (Y/N) glanced over her shoulder and saw him holding her drawing in his hand whilst he stood next to the desk with the books about The Fade.

"Yes. The demon haunts my dreams. Distant, dark and desperate. It can't reach me, I can't remember how he fought." she stood upright and walked to the desk. Ghirahim's expression shifted to confusion.

"This monstrous creature attacked you and you cannot remember it?" he asked with an eyebrow raised, flecks of confusion and somewhat disbelief glowed from him that only (Y/N) could sense.

"Memories blocked by an invisible barrier, or were they snatched away by the snarling, slithering storm?" she directed the question more to herself rather than Ghirahim. "Whispers of truth are my dreams. Fragments of memories I no longer remember but cannot remember." As she spoke, Ghirahim led her over to one of the two large chairs and they both sat down. Despite this girl only being here for three days, he couldn't deny that there was something about her that made the Demon Lord's mind conjure thoughts about her. There was something powerful about this spirit, Ghirahim almost felt selfish for wanting to keep her in the castle. Master Demise would certainly be proud of him for finding such a spirit.

For a moment, they sat in silence. 

"If it was possible, would you want your memories back?" he asked as he crossed one leg over the other. (Y/N) looked up at him, most of her pale face was sprinkled with shadows from her hat, and shook her head. This caught Ghirahim by surprise.

"Memories of a torturous realm that hides monsters and demons, the hurt they did to others. I don't want to remember. Forget pain and sorrow, help closed wounds stay closed." she replied. Her eyes remained on the Demon Lord for a second before returning to the fire.

"Why did you hug me?" Ghirahim asked suddenly, (Y/N) turned her attention to him. His expression was serious as his dark eyes bore into her (E/C) ones, searching for an answer but fell lost to the smoke that made up her aura.

"To say thank you." she replied simply. As she sat there, she sensed a faint warm feeling attempt to surface from him but couldn't.

The memory of the strange green, glowing orb popped into her mind. Could that have something to do with The Fade? She glanced back over at the books and walked over to them. Flicking through the pages to find anything about glowing orbs but resulted in nothing. When she saw it, she could sense something from it. It was old, here but not here. She shut the book and decided to push all this aside. Her eyes looked up to the balcony where other bookshelves stood, she silently walked up the steps and looked around. Her attention fell on one, May the crow fly. Taking the book into her hands, she opened it and looked at the first page, she felt the air change. It became lighter, a bit more spacious like something had left. Ghirahim's aura was gone, indicating that he had left.

The Demon Lord sat in his room, his thoughts racing against each other. This girl, this spirit, was a mystery and it infuriated him that he could not understand her, predict her next move or even know what she is feeling. How can she break through every defence he mentally made without a single problem whilst he could barely scratch hers? The night he heard her play the ocarina, she seeped into his mind. Was it some kind of trickery? Magic from The Fade? His questions demanded answers. He needed answers. With a small yell of anger, he threw one of his daggers at the wall, it stuck with a thud. Perfect. One more problem for him. He released a deep sigh, he was better than that. He refuses to let an amnesiac Spirit of Compassion with a stupid hat best him.

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