# Bite of Destiny
## Chapter 13: Revealed Intentions
---
The weeks that followed were a precarious balance.
Demri continued his training with Dr. Reyes, learning techniques that allowed him to recognize the curse's movements before they became dangerous. He practiced emotional awareness exercises, meditation routines, and something Dr. Reyes called "liminal breathing"—a method of creating momentary separation between himself and the hunger. The improvements were gradual but measurable.
Tomás recovered, though he remained quieter than before—the shadow of his corruption leaving traces that therapy and time were slowly erasing. Priya stayed close, her medical instincts now expanded to include supernatural considerations. The community center reopened with renewed energy, Derek Thornton's arrest having removed the immediate threat to its existence.
But beneath the surface calm, tensions were building.
Demri had not forgotten Azarion. The name burned in his consciousness like a brand, a reminder of the injustice that had defined his existence for centuries. Every night, he reviewed his recovered memories, searching for additional details that might aid his case. Every day, he wondered when Seraphiel would make contact, what the celestial investigation had uncovered, whether the truth would finally come to light.
And every moment, the hunger watched and waited.
---
The confrontation began innocuously enough.
It was a Thursday evening, and the core group had gathered in the community center for a strategy session. With Derek neutralized, there was talk of expansion—new programs, additional outreach, the possibility of opening a second location in the neighboring district.
"We need to move carefully," Maria cautioned. "Derek's arrest doesn't mean his allies have disappeared. There are still people in city government who owe him favors."
"Which is exactly why we should move now," Jade countered. "While they're scrambling, before they can regroup. Momentum is on our side for the first time in years."
"Momentum can reverse quickly if we overextend."
"So can opportunity disappear if we don't seize it."
The argument was familiar territory—caution versus aggression, strategy versus tactics—and Demri found his attention drifting. He was thinking about Azarion, about the celestial court, about the evidence he would need to overturn centuries of judgment.
"Demri?"
Aylin's voice snapped him back to the present. "Sorry. What?"
"I asked what you thought about the expansion timeline. Six months versus twelve."
"I..." He searched for an opinion on a topic that suddenly seemed trivial. "I think either timeline has merit."
"That's not an answer."
"No. I suppose it isn't." He stood, suddenly restless. "I apologize. My mind is elsewhere tonight."
The room fell quiet. Everyone had grown accustomed to Demri's occasional distance, his tendency to drift into contemplations they could not share. But something in his posture tonight suggested more than usual distraction.
"Is everything okay?" Maria asked. "You've seemed... off lately."
"I'm fine. Just processing some personal matters."
"Personal matters involving celestial conspiracies?" Jade's tone was dry. "Because those are always so relaxing."
Demri did not respond. He moved to the window, staring out at the darkening street, and felt the familiar pressure of the hunger stirring in response to his emotional turmoil.
*They sense something is wrong*, the curse observed. *Your agitation is visible.*
"I know."
*Perhaps it's time to tell them the truth. All of it.*
"Not yet. They're not ready."
*Are they not ready, or are you not ready to face their reactions?*
The question struck deep. Demri had been withholding information—not just about Azarion, but about his broader plans. Plans that had been forming since his memories returned, plans that involved more than just clearing his name.
Plans that might put everyone in this room at risk.
"Demri." Aylin had crossed to stand beside him. "Whatever's going on with you, you can tell us. We're past the point of secrets."
"Are we?" He turned to face her. "Because there are things I haven't told you. Things I've been afraid to share."
"Like what?"
The room was watching now, conversations abandoned, all attention focused on the exchange at the window. Demri felt the weight of their scrutiny like a physical pressure.
"Like the fact that I'm not just here to resist the curse anymore. I have a larger purpose now. A mission."
"What kind of mission?"
"To bring down Azarion. To expose the conspiracy that destroyed me and ensure it can never happen to anyone else." Demri's voice hardened. "And to do that, I may need to use resources that aren't entirely mine to use."
Aylin's expression shifted. "What do you mean, 'resources that aren't entirely yours'?"
"I mean this community. This network you've built. The connections, the influence, the infrastructure." He gestured at the room. "I've been cultivating relationships here partly because I genuinely care about these people. But also because I knew, eventually, I might need allies in a fight that goes far beyond Millbrook."
The silence that followed was absolute.
"You've been using us," Jade said flatly. "This whole time, you've been building a power base."
"Not the whole time. At first, I was simply trying to survive. But as my memories returned, as I understood the scope of what was done to me, my priorities shifted." Demri met their stares without flinching. "Yes. I have been cultivating this community as a potential resource. That doesn't mean my care for you isn't genuine."
"It means your care is strategic," Maria said, her voice cold. "Which is not the same thing at all."
"No. It isn't."
"So everything—the volunteering, the campaign against Derek, the support and encouragement—all of it was building toward this? Toward recruiting us for your personal vendetta?"
"Not all of it. And it's not a vendetta. It's justice." Demri's frustration began to leak through his careful composure. "Azarion didn't just destroy me. He corrupted the entire system of celestial justice. If his conspiracy isn't exposed, others will suffer the same fate. Innocent beings condemned for crimes they didn't commit, cast down and cursed and forgotten."
"So now you're a crusader," Jade said. "Fighting cosmic injustice. How noble."
"Noble or not, it's necessary. And I can't do it alone."
"Then maybe you should have asked," Aylin said, her voice tight with controlled anger. "Maybe you should have told us what you were planning and let us decide whether we wanted to be part of it. Instead, you manipulated us. You let us believe our relationship was based on honest connection, when really you were always calculating how we could serve your purposes."
"That's not—"
"It's exactly what you just admitted to!" Aylin's control broke, her voice rising. "You said you've been cultivating this community as a resource. Those are your words. Do you have any idea how that sounds? How it makes everything you've said and done feel like a lie?"
The hunger surged in response to the conflict, and Demri felt his own composure slipping. "It wasn't a lie. I do care about you—all of you. But caring doesn't mean I can ignore the larger stakes. Caring doesn't mean I should pretend that my situation doesn't have implications beyond this neighborhood."
"And caring apparently doesn't mean being honest with the people you claim to love."
The word hit Demri like a physical blow. Love. They had never used that word between them, never defined what their connection meant in such explicit terms. But Aylin had said it now, thrown it like an accusation.
"I didn't tell you because I was afraid," he admitted. "Afraid that if you knew my full intentions, you would walk away. That everyone would walk away. And then I would be alone again, fighting an impossible battle with no one beside me."
"So instead you built your support on deception? That's supposed to be better?"
"It was supposed to buy me time. Time to prove myself, to show you who I really am, before the complications of my mission drove you off."
"The complications of your mission," Maria repeated. "Meaning the part where we might become targets of celestial beings? The part where associating with you could put our lives—our souls—at risk?"
Demri said nothing. There was nothing to say. Maria had identified precisely the danger he had been hoping to address later, after trust was more firmly established.
"You knew," Maria continued. "You knew that being connected to you could make us vulnerable, and you built those connections anyway. Without telling us. Without giving us the chance to refuse."
"If I had told you everything from the beginning, you would have refused. No reasonable person would accept those risks."
"So you took away our choice." Jade's voice was quiet now, which somehow made it worse. "You decided we couldn't be trusted to make an informed decision, so you made it for us."
"I decided to show you who I am through actions before asking you to accept the complications of my existence. That's not taking away choice—it's building context."
"It's manipulation," Aylin said. "Dressed up in philosophical language. You manipulated us, Demri. The same way you accidentally manipulated Tomás. The only difference is intention—but the result is the same. We're entangled in something we never agreed to be part of."
The comparison to Tomás's corruption hit Demri harder than anything else that had been said. He stepped back, physically recoiling from the accusation.
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it? You have a supernatural ability to influence people's decisions, and you've been using it—consciously or not—to shape this community according to your needs. How is that different from what you did to Tomás?"
"It's different because I wasn't trying to corrupt you. I was trying to protect you."
"Protect us from what? The truth?" Aylin shook her head. "We didn't need protection from knowledge, Demri. We needed the information to make our own choices. That's what trust looks like. That's what respect looks like. And you denied us both."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Demri looked at the faces around him—Maria's cold disappointment, Jade's bitter anger, Aylin's wounded fury—and felt the foundation he had built crumbling beneath him.
*They're not wrong*, the curse observed quietly. *You did withhold information. You did shape your relationships with strategic considerations in mind. Your intentions may have been good, but your methods were those of a manipulator.*
"I know."
*So what will you do now? Defend yourself? Apologize? Walk away?*
Demri didn't know. For the first time since his fall, he had no plan, no strategy, no idea how to proceed. The truth was out, and the truth was ugly, and there was no way to undo the damage.
"I'm sorry," he said finally. "You're right—all of you. I should have been honest from the beginning. I should have trusted you with the truth and let you decide whether to accept the risks."
"Why didn't you?" Maria's question was genuine, not rhetorical. "You've been living among us for months. There were countless opportunities to come clean."
"Because I was afraid. Because every time I thought about telling you, I imagined your rejection. I imagined being cast out again, the way I was cast out of heaven. I imagined losing the first real connections I've had since my fall." Demri's voice broke slightly. "The loneliness of the last centuries—you can't imagine what it's like. And when I found something different here, something that felt like belonging, I couldn't bear the thought of losing it."
"So you chose deception over vulnerability."
"Yes. And I was wrong." He looked at Aylin. "I was especially wrong with you. You showed me trust and I repaid it with calculation. That's not what you deserve. It's not what any of you deserve."
Aylin's expression was unreadable. The anger was still there, but beneath it, something else—hurt, perhaps, or the struggle between feeling betrayed and wanting to forgive.
"What happens now?" she asked. "Now that we know the truth?"
"That's not my decision to make. It's yours—all of yours. I've told you everything. My history, my mission, my reasons for withholding information. You can choose to continue working with me, or you can choose to walk away. Either way, I'll respect your decision."
"And if we walk away? What happens to your crusade against Azarion?"
"I continue alone. Or I find other allies. Or I fail." Demri shrugged, a gesture of genuine uncertainty. "The mission doesn't depend on you. I want your help because I trust you, because I believe in what this community represents. But I won't force that help. I won't manipulate anyone else into serving my purposes."
"A bit late for that promise," Jade muttered.
"Yes. It is. But it's the only promise I can make now."
---
The meeting dissolved into smaller conversations, people clustering in twos and threes to process what had been revealed. Demri stood apart, watching, waiting, knowing that his fate was being decided in whispered debates he could not participate in.
*This could be the end*, the curse observed. *Of everything you've built here.*
"I know."
*Are you prepared for that?*
"No. But I'll accept it if that's what happens."
*Even if it means returning to isolation? To fighting alone?*
"Even then. Because the alternative—continuing to deceive people I care about—is worse. I would rather be alone and honest than connected through lies."
*An interesting position. I'm not sure I believe you're capable of maintaining it.*
"Neither am I. But I have to try."
Aylin approached, separating from a conversation with Maria. Her expression had shifted—still guarded, still hurt, but with something else emerging beneath the surface.
"I need to ask you something," she said. "And I need you to be completely honest."
"I'll try."
"The feelings you have for me. The connection we've built. Was any of that strategic? Was I part of your resource cultivation?"
The question cut to the heart of everything. Demri considered it carefully before responding.
"No. At first, you were just someone who showed me kindness when I needed it. Later, as my memories returned and I began planning, I recognized that you were valuable—your connections, your influence, your position in the community. But I never pursued you for strategic reasons. Whatever I feel for you—and I do feel something, something I don't fully understand—it's separate from my mission. It exists on its own terms."
"How can I believe that? After everything you've just admitted?"
"You can't. Not based on my words alone. All I can offer is time. Time to prove through actions that my feelings are genuine. Time to demonstrate that I can be honest, even when honesty is difficult."
"And if I'm not willing to give you that time? If I decide the deception was too fundamental to forgive?"
Demri's heart clenched, but he kept his voice steady. "Then I'll accept that too. As I said, the choice is yours."
Aylin studied him for a long moment, searching his face for signs of continued manipulation. Whatever she found seemed to satisfy her—partially, at least.
"I'm not ready to forgive you," she said. "Not yet. But I'm also not ready to walk away. What you did was wrong, but I've seen too much of who you are—who you're trying to be—to dismiss all of it as calculation."
"What does that mean practically?"
"It means we continue. The work, the mission, all of it. But with different terms." Her voice hardened. "No more secrets. No more strategic withholding. If something affects this community or the people in it, you tell us immediately. No matter how difficult or complicated."
"I can do that."
"And I'll be watching. Closely. Any sign that you're reverting to manipulation, any hint that you're treating us as resources rather than partners, and I'm done." She stepped closer, close enough that he could see the gold flecks in her dark eyes. "I believe you're capable of being better than what you just described. But belief isn't trust. Trust, you're going to have to earn."
"I understand."
"Good." She turned away, then paused. "One more thing. Your mission against Azarion—I want to know everything. Not just the broad strokes, but the details. What you're planning, what resources you'll need, what the risks are. If we're going to help you, we need to understand what we're getting into."
"I'll prepare a full briefing. Tomorrow, if you're available."
"Tomorrow works." She rejoined the others, leaving Demri alone with the weight of what had transpired.
---
The briefing took place in Dr. Reyes's office, which offered more privacy than the community center. The group was smaller than Demri had expected—Aylin, Jade, Maria, and Dr. Reyes herself, who had been invited as an expert on supernatural matters.
"You want to expose a celestial conspiracy," Dr. Reyes summarized after Demri finished explaining. "Specifically, you want to prove that Azarion—a high-ranking member of the celestial hierarchy—fabricated evidence to secure your condemnation."
"Yes."
"And you believe that proving your innocence will weaken or break the curse that binds you."
"That's what the curse itself suggested. A curse is only as strong as the conviction behind it. If the judgment that created my curse is revealed to be false, the metaphysical foundation shifts."
Dr. Reyes made a note. "Theoretically possible. I've seen similar dynamics in other supernatural phenomena. But celestial justice is notoriously resistant to reversal. Even if you prove Azarion's guilt, the court might refuse to overturn your conviction."
"Which is why proof isn't enough. I need leverage. Something that forces the court to act even if they'd prefer to maintain the status quo."
"What kind of leverage?"
"Azarion didn't act alone. My memories suggest a larger conspiracy—others who benefited from my fall, who participated in the fabrication of evidence. If I can identify those collaborators and threaten to expose them all, the court might be more willing to deal."
"Blackmail," Jade said flatly. "You're planning to blackmail celestial beings."
"I prefer to think of it as strategic pressure."
"You can call it whatever you want. It's still blackmail."
"Yes," Demri admitted. "It is. And I'm not proud of that. But centuries of suffering have made me pragmatic. I will do whatever is necessary to achieve justice—including tactics that would have appalled me before my fall."
"Even if those tactics make you more like the beings who condemned you?"
The question hung in the air. Demri considered it carefully.
"I hope not. I hope I can maintain some distinction between pursuing justice and becoming what I'm fighting against. But I won't pretend that line is always clear. This is war, Jade. A war against entities who have already demonstrated their willingness to destroy innocents for their own purposes. Fighting clean may not be an option."
"And if you lose yourself in the process? If the ends-justify-means logic corrupts you as thoroughly as the curse ever could?"
"Then I'll need people around me who are willing to tell me when I've gone too far. That's part of why I'm being honest now. I need partners who can check my worst impulses, not followers who simply obey."
Maria spoke for the first time since the briefing began. "You said Azarion had collaborators. Do you know who they are?"
"Some of them. My memories are still fragmentary—the barrier the curse described hasn't fully collapsed. But I have names, faces, pieces of evidence that could be developed into a more complete picture."
"And Seraphiel? The celestial you mentioned who's investigating your case?"
"I haven't heard from him since our initial contact. Either his investigation is proceeding slowly, or he's encountered obstacles." Demri touched the crystal Seraphiel had given him, still carried in his pocket. "I've been reluctant to use this—the curse warned that each contact risks detection. But if we're moving forward with a coordinated effort, reaching out might be worth the risk."
"Do it," Dr. Reyes said. "We need intelligence from inside the celestial realm. Whatever Seraphiel has learned could be crucial."
Demri nodded and pulled out the crystal. He held it in both hands, focusing his will as Seraphiel had instructed. The crystal warmed, pulsed with inner light, and then—
—the world shifted.
---
He was standing in a space that existed between spaces, a liminal realm where the boundaries of reality grew thin. Seraphiel waited there, his form flickering with golden light that seemed somehow diminished since their last meeting.
"Demri. Your contact was unexpected."
"I've made progress. Recovered memories that confirm my suspicions about Azarion."
"As have I." Seraphiel's expression was grave. "But my investigation has attracted attention. There are those in the celestial court who are... displeased with my inquiries."
"They're trying to stop you?"
"They're trying to discredit me. Questions are being raised about my judgment, my loyalty, my fitness for duty. The same playbook that was used against you, adapted for a different target."
The implications were chilling. "Azarion?"
"Almost certainly. Though proving his involvement is difficult. He has centuries of experience covering his tracks." Seraphiel moved closer, lowering his voice despite the impossibility of anyone overhearing in this liminal space. "I've confirmed some of your memories. The evidence against you was fabricated—I've found traces of the manipulation, signatures that point to Azarion's influence. But traces aren't proof. I need more."
"What kind of more?"
"Testimony from other victims. Azarion didn't frame only you—there are others, going back millennia. If we can identify them, convince them to come forward, we might have enough to force a formal investigation."
"Others? How many?"
"Dozens, possibly. Azarion has been manipulating celestial justice for longer than anyone realized. Your case was simply the most recent—and the one he was most careless about."
The scope of the conspiracy was staggering. Demri had assumed he was an isolated target, a single victim of a specific grudge. But if Seraphiel was right, Azarion's corruption ran through the entire celestial system.
"Why? What does he gain from condemning innocents?"
"Power. Influence. The elimination of rivals." Seraphiel's voice was bitter. "Every being he frames is removed from positions of authority. Their allies are discredited by association. Their resources are redistributed to those loyal to him. Over centuries, he's built an empire based on injustice."
"And no one noticed?"
"Those who noticed were silenced. Added to the list of the falsely condemned, or eliminated through other means." The celestial's form flickered. "I don't know how much longer I can continue my investigation. The pressure is mounting. Soon, I may face charges of my own."
"Then we need to accelerate. I have allies here—mortals and a human scholar who studies supernatural phenomena. If we coordinate, move on multiple fronts at once, Azarion won't be able to suppress everything."
"Coordination with mortals." Seraphiel's tone was skeptical. "That's... unconventional."
"Unconventional is exactly what we need. Azarion expects to fight other celestials. He has contingencies for that. But mortals, human institutions, forces he doesn't understand or respect—those might catch him off guard."
"It's risky. If he becomes aware of your mortal allies, he might target them directly."
"I've made them aware of the risks. They've chosen to participate anyway."
Seraphiel was quiet for a moment. "You've changed, Demri. The being I remember from before your fall would never have trusted mortals with matters of celestial importance."
"The being I was before my fall was a fool. I believed in the system, followed the rules, trusted my superiors. Look where that got me." Demri's voice hardened. "I'm done playing by rules that only apply to people like us. If mortals can help me achieve justice, I'll work with mortals. If demons offered assistance, I'd consider that too."
"Be careful. The line between pragmatism and corruption is thinner than you think."
"I'm aware. I have people watching to make sure I don't cross it."
"Then perhaps there's hope for you yet." Seraphiel began to fade, the liminal space collapsing around them. "I'll compile what evidence I've gathered and find a way to share it. But Demri—be prepared. When we move against Azarion, he'll retaliate with everything he has. There will be casualties."
"I know."
"Make sure your allies understand that too."
The space dissolved, and Demri found himself back in Dr. Reyes's office, the crystal cooling in his hands. Everyone was watching him with varying degrees of concern.
"Well?" Aylin asked. "What did you learn?"
"More than I expected. And less than I hoped." Demri set down the crystal. "Seraphiel confirms that Azarion framed me, but his investigation is under threat. Others in the celestial hierarchy are trying to silence him before he can gather enough evidence."
"Others meaning other conspirators?"
"Possibly. Or just beings who benefit from maintaining the status quo." He looked at each of them in turn. "There's more. I'm not the only victim. Azarion has been doing this for millennia—framing innocents, manipulating celestial justice, building power through injustice. If we're going to take him down, we need to expose the full scope of his crimes."
"How?" Dr. Reyes asked.
"By finding his other victims. Convincing them to come forward. Building a case so overwhelming that even his allies can't protect him."
"And how do we find these other victims? They're celestial beings, scattered across... what? Heaven? The cosmos?"
"Some of them are here. Fallen, like me. Living in the mortal realm, bearing curses they don't deserve." Demri's mind was racing, connections forming. "The shadow-kin mentioned others when they first confronted me. They said the darkness has many servants. What if some of those servants are actually innocent beings, corrupted by the same false judgment that corrupted me?"
"You want to recruit from the enemy's ranks."
"I want to liberate potential allies. There's a difference."
"Is there? From the shadow-kin's perspective, you'd be poaching their assets."
"The shadow-kin don't have perspectives. They have hunger. They're not going to negotiate or compromise. But the fallen beings they've been using—those might have retained enough of their original nature to choose differently, if given the chance."
Maria shook her head. "This is getting complicated. Celestial conspiracies, corrupted innocents, supernatural politics—we're community organizers, not cosmic warriors."
"You're people who fight against injustice," Demri replied. "The scale is larger, but the principle is the same. There are beings suffering under a corrupt system, and that system needs to be changed."
"Except the beings in question have supernatural powers and the system is run by entities who could destroy us without effort."
"Which is why we work smart. Gather information, build coalitions, move only when we're ready." Demri looked at Dr. Reyes. "You've spent decades studying the supernatural. Do you have contacts in... unusual communities? Other practitioners, sensitives, people who might have encountered fallen celestials?"
"Some. The supernatural underground is larger than most people realize. If there are other fallen beings in this city, someone will know about them."
"Then that's our next step. Find the others. Learn their stories. Determine who might be an ally and who's too far gone to reach."
"And the shadow-kin?" Jade asked. "They're not going to sit back while you raid their roster."
"The shadow-kin are a secondary concern. They're enforcers, not decision-makers. If we can undermine Azarion's authority, their power base crumbles too."
"You hope."
"I hope. But hope backed by strategy is more than I've had since my fall."
---
The meeting continued for another hour, mapping out plans and contingencies. By the time they finished, everyone was exhausted—but there was also an energy in the room that hadn't been present before. A sense of purpose that transcended the local concerns of community organizing.
As the others departed, Aylin lingered.
"That was honest," she said. "What you shared today. No hedging, no strategic omissions."
"I'm trying to be what you asked me to be."
"I noticed." She moved closer. "It doesn't fix everything. The original deception still happened. But this is a start."
"A start is more than I expected."
"Don't get too comfortable. I meant what I said about watching closely."
"I know. And I meant what I said about needing people to check my worst impulses." Demri hesitated. "Aylin, what I'm proposing—this campaign against Azarion—it's going to get dangerous. More dangerous than anything we've faced so far. If you want to step back, focus on the community work and leave the cosmic battles to me—"
"Don't." Her voice was sharp. "Don't give me an out as if I'm fragile. I chose to be here. I chose to know the truth. And now I'm choosing to see this through."
"Even if it means risking everything?"
"Especially then. Because if your celestial system is as corrupt as you say—if beings like Azarion can frame innocents and face no consequences—then someone needs to fight back. And I'd rather be fighting than hiding."
The declaration carried weight that transcended mere words. Aylin was not just accepting the situation—she was embracing it, claiming a role in a battle that went far beyond her original concerns.
"Thank you," Demri said. "For believing I can be better. For choosing to fight beside me."
"Don't thank me yet. We haven't won anything." She smiled slightly—the first genuine smile he'd seen from her since his revelation. "But we will. Whatever it takes, we will."
---
*An interesting development*, the curse observed later that night, as Demri lay awake processing the day's events. *You've transformed potential enemies into committed allies. Through honesty, no less. I didn't think you had it in you.*
"Neither did I."
*The question now is whether that honesty can sustain itself. Whether you can maintain transparency when the stakes become truly desperate.*
"I'll have to. The alternative is losing everything I've gained."
*And if honesty conflicts with strategy? If there comes a moment when telling the truth would doom your mission?*
"Then I'll face that moment when it arrives. For now, I'm committed to a different approach."
*We shall see*, the curse said. *We shall see.*
But even the curse's skepticism couldn't diminish what Demri felt as he finally drifted toward sleep: hope. Real, substantial hope that justice might actually be possible.
Whatever came next, he would not face it alone.
---