"You are not as you were, Arella, daughter of Camael." The reflection grinned. "You feel it too, do you not?"
Arella's hands clenched into fists, "You are lying." Arella hissed, but even as she said those words, she could still feel the unnatural energy coursing through her, clawing at her insides. What she felt could not be holy power. It was something else.
And worst of all, she did not hate it. Dare she even say, it felt good.
She shoved the thought away, disgusted with herself, "I am an angel," she spat, standing up straighter.
The reflection smiled, wider, "An angel you say?"
The words sent a chill down her spine and Arella clenched her fist, "I do not care for this game. There is an attack on my palace. On the home that the demon king has provided. The place that I am coming to terms is my new home."
"I am not anything other than what I have always known myself to be."
