Shadows

Shadows are only part of the havoc

Sunlight pokes through the blackout curtains, shining on a rectangular table with 35 empty chairs that mirror each other. Bugs scramble on the walls, climbing towards the empty chandler. Jumping into the empty glass one by one, they wiggle and squirm until they set themselves a flame. Exploding the room in a light glow that shows a man standing at the end of the table staring out the window with his back to Reanna.

A podium stood behind him in front of a stained glass window of an angel reaching to the sky and dark wisps crawling around her bare legs as if they were pulling her down. On the table in front of the man was a full bottle of whiskey that surrounded 2 leather-bound books with a quill.

"Where's Bellator?"

She walks towards the nearest chair to the man, strolling past the built-in bookshelves on the wall. The man tilts his head back swallowing his drink. Only when he turns to put his drink on the table does he look at her.

"I thought this appearance might calm you," He says, pulling out the chair at the end of the table. "You have been through a lot in the last 72 hours,"

"I have, did Bellator tell you that?" She straightens her back out, staring at the man's dark violet eyes.

"One of the perks of being death is that I can change my appearance at will," He says pushing his chair forward and snapping his eyes toward the whiskey.

He is Bellator but how? Is he a god or something? Maybe a devil? I read that they might have powers.

Reaching his arm over the table, pink skin poes out of his navy suit as he wraps his fingers around the bottle. The burning bugs shine on him showing the faint impression of enchant designs on the jacket sleeves. He blew his dirty blonde curls out of his sight and poured himself another glass.

He leans his head on the cushioned seat and stares at the ceiling. Showing the scar under his right eye that continued through his lips across his neck and under his shirt. He looked like he was in his early 20s.

That has to be him, right? He looks so different.

"That's a cool trait is it your devil power or something?"

His eyes narrow towards her as his jaw tightens.

"Is that why there's demons here? Are they your family?" Renna glances at the doors.

"HE ISN'T MY FAMILY!" He growls slamming his glass on the table and shattering it.

As the glass shatters it digs into his hand. Instantly bugs crawl up the table towards his body and devour his hand. Reanna gasps and shoves her chair back, it creaks on the floor.

What the hell!?

Bellator lets out a deep breath and looks down at the table.

"I did not want to scare you, please accept my sincere apologies." He runs his half-eaten hand through his hair.

Remember not to talk to him about demons and devils.

"I was shocked, that's all," Reanna tightly holds the armrests.

"My anger was not aimed towards you but at the mention of... an old aqatence of mine," He says, leaning in his chair.

He runs his skin-covered hand on his skeletal hand. As his fingers drag on the bones cells explode. Creating muscles, veins and skin that quickly cover his hand. Within seconds his hand was an exact copy of his right.

Can he do that to everyone or just him? How does he do it?

"..So what are you? Are you a god?" She slowly pulls her chair towards the table. "I'm just trying to understand you,"