His Son, Armand

—FATHER'S POV—

The young Jovevski was perfect in every way.

Armand had seen it the moment he'd walked in and watched the human offspring bring itself back from the depths of the abyss.

A natural. A perfect and pure natural that Death themselves would've been proud of.

Yet Armand, the sniveling and shaking coward that he was, had left it behind. He feared the beast-like human that he called brother. A ridiculous and embarrassing fear to have.

Then the child had died again, and it came back yet again. It was glorious. It was perfect. The perfect vessel that had more potential than Father ever had.

He wanted him. He needed that vessel.

But that meant Armand needed to die.

It would've been easy. It would've been so easy to call upon His army to put an end to the idiot that had trapped Him within his useless body.