Demon of the Light

The crimson sun bled across the shattered landscape, casting long, grotesque shadows from the ruins of a fallen world. He stood amidst the carnage, a figure of immense power, his very presence a violation of the desolate silence. He was a demon, a bringer of death, his name whispered in terror across forgotten battlefields. But in his clawed hand, he held not a weapon, but a child. Her face, serene in sleep, was a fragile beacon in his world of darkness. A light he had sworn to protect, even if it meant defying his very nature.