My Vicious Beast (Claimed by Beasts #2)

Prologue

Creature

We were formed by the breath of a god.

Our creator gave us but one command—protect humanity. Tiny, weak, innocent beings, easily possessed by demons who fed on chaos and death.

We were made powerful, with skin of stone, wings that spread seven times the size of our bodies, and claws that could skewer and tear apart flesh as if it were nothing more than a leaf.

Our senses were ten times stronger than a human's, our speed faster than any predator, our purpose absolute.

We were divine justice.

Righteous brutality.

We were foolish.

With each battle, the lines began to blur. I witnessed demons show mercy, affection, love. While humans committed atrocities so cruel, even a lord of hell couldn't fathom.

The world was not as black and white as I had been taught. It was an endless spectrum of gray. And we were no longer fit to judge it.

We were lost, without thought or structure. And when our creator abandoned us, we began to fracture. Some of us became tempted by the very creatures we were meant to destroy. Some fell in love with humans, others vanished.

But me? I became something else entirely.

Doubtful.

Questioning.

Damned.

Not by any divine power or demonic curse, but by my own mind. Each life I took for my maker weighed heavier than the stone that formed my flesh.

How many souls had I condemned that could have been saved? How many demons had I slaughtered who might have found redemption?

I remember the face of a young woman, possessed by a lesser demon.

Her eyes flickered between terror and malice as I approached, different from the general conceitedness of a demon.

And despite that moment when her humanity shone through, I still chose to end her life.

The demon's hold had been weak—perhaps she could have fought it off, perhaps she could have lived, perhaps she had a reason.

But I had been created to judge, to execute. Not to challenge my sovereignty or responsibilities.

And now, I was solely to blame.

My uncertainty ate away at me, darkening my soul. Because, though I'd lived through millennia—watched continents sink into the ocean and empires rise and fall—I didn't understand how to interpret the growing world around me, how to comprehend the line between right and wrong.

The weight of it all became too much, and with my wings drawn in against my back, I fell into a deep slumber. My body turned to stone, but I was still there. Alive. Observing. Learning.

Humans, convinced I was nothing more than a statue, took me. I traveled on ships, planes, heard their stories, the way their language grew and changed. I began to understand their feelings, motivations, and dreams.

And eventually, I ended up on top of a church in New York. A place of worship that believed I could protect them and those who entered from evil.

There, I waited with a singular hope. That one day, someone would have need of me regardless of my crimes, even if I was nothing more than a broken, discarded, vicious beast.