I open my eyes.

I did not just wake up.

I have a reason for waking up; a drive.

I get out of bed and go down the stairs in the dark. I try not to wake anybody up.

I am physically tired, but in my mind all I feel is determination.

I know where you are and I’m coming.

I quietly open the front door and step into the moonlight.

I made a promise to you. I do not know what that promise is and I do not know when I made it, but I know that I have to be there for you. I am determined to keep this promise that I never made.

I am coming.

You will not be alone.

I promise.

I promise…

______

Wake up!

Lesley pawed Victor’s face. His little claws poked his skin as he pressed on Victor’s cheeks.

Victor wake up!

Victor’s eyes fluttered open. He took a deep hissing breath and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Lesley walked to the foot of the bed and sat down. Victor put on his glasses. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Trouble. “What trouble?” Go find out. “Lesley don’t start this with me. What’s going on?” Big pulse. “Where?” Boy. “What bo—”

He felt Damien’s presence - stronger than ever and aggravated. His soul was rippled by the aggressive pulses of energy that flowed through him. Victor felt like he couldn’t breathe. The fear filled his stomach and the air he tried to breathe in was forced right back out. Victor closed his eyes and placed a shaking hand on his chest. The legs of the tarantula piercing curled slightly, pinching the skin of his chest.

He felt his heart turn cold and ice pump through his veins. The tension in his body was relieved and he could breathe again. He took a deep inhale and opened his eyes.

“How long ago was this?”

Few minutes. Lesley’s hair stood up. His eyes were wide and pupils large.

Victor’s phone started ringing on the bedside table. He answered.

“Hello?”

“Victor I’m freaking the fuck out,” Matthew said, “What’s happening?”

“I think the boy finally tipped.”

“What does that mean?”

“What the hell do you think it means?” He got out of bed. “Do you know where it’s coming from?”

“From Leech’s pocket. It wasn’t there a few minutes ago. He moved there.”

Shit. “Okay. Get Kiara and just leave. The completely opposite direction. Hide.”

“No no no! Victor! This shit isn’t something you can go run off and fight! You’re coming with—”

A crack like thunder sounded and the earth shook. Lesley jumped up and hissed in its direction. His ears were ringing, but Victor could hear dogs barking and car alarms whining. He felt his heartbeat in his ears and feet. The tarantula piercing tightened again and his senses came back to him. He lifted the phone back to his ear. “Jesus Christ, I think that was the pocket leaking,” Matthew said.

“It was. Listen, forget about me. I need to do something about this.”

“Victor n—”

He hung up. He changed out of pyjamas and into something different. He prepared his sword and mask. He was nowhere near the pocket, but he shook every few seconds when the tarantula loosened its grip on him. His heartbeat was rapid and for the first time since his childhood, he was scared enough to turn and run. He looked at Lesley and with a whimpering voice said, “If I die, go find Matthew.”

He ran out the front door and looked to his destination. A chunk of the mountain was missing, replaced by its pocket-copy that sloped to the ground. The intensity of Damien’s energy was too much for the gate to handle and collapsed when he passed through it.

A cloud of dust marked the merging of the pocket dimension with the main-world. People came out of their homes to see the source of the quake. Victor wanted to run. He wanted to run badly, but he was deep in the state of accepting death and he lost the sense to.

Victor got into his car and drove. He could feel the presence of Damien rising and falling and changing with his emotion and from that alone, Victor could read the situation. There was a fight. Damien was slaughtering the demons in the pocket dimension. The closer he got to it, the greater his fear but even greater was his commitment. Emotion left him and he became nothing more than a means to stop Damien.

He stopped at the forest’s edge and ran the rest of the way with his sword at hand. All around him, the good demons from other pockets arrived to defeat this threat. Damien had become a global problem. Victor couldn’t decide if he was more scared, or the normal people watching it happen. This looked like a religious apocalypse, no doubt.

“You should’ve killed him when you had the chance, Victor!”

Victor looked to his side. Leech ran alongside him. “I know,” he said, softly.

“Let’s go. No time to waste.” A thick black tentacle wrapped around Victor like a harness, and a giant one kicked them into the sky. As they slowed to the peak of the jump, they saw Damien in the distance. Winged, fire-breathing, fire-wielding, murderous. Other flying demons surrounding him tried to fight, but he held them back and bodies rained down from the sky. Projectiles of power were being fired at him from the ground beneath him, their light like the heat of gunfire.

They fell to the ground with Leech’s tentacle catching them and then launching them again. “Do you think you can weaken him?” Victor yelled over the wind.

“It’ll be difficult. I can only weaken his attacks as he uses them.”

They stopped beneath the battle, where demons from all over the world gathered and attacked him by flinging energy of their own, some of them working in groups to conduct stronger attacks. Victor had never been in war, but he imagined this is what it was like. He was surrounded by the noise of fire being cast, bolts of electricity being struck and beams of energy being charged and shot. His pupils constricted against the cascade of lights that streaked across the black sky. Every few seconds drops or splashes of blood rained down onto them and not long after a body would follow. Some were already dead and some gave in on impact. Others could only wish they died on impact, and screamed under the pain of their broken bones, bleeding wounds and burns given to them by Damien. Those who could would try to heal them, but the bodies that fell greatly outnumbered the demons who could heal. Damien was outnumbered, but he tore through those numbers driven by sheer aggression and power.

“Wait here and be ready,” Leech said and launched into the sky at Damien. Victor held his sword at his side. He flicked it into a twist three times. Everybody stopped firing and the crowd went silent. The demons surrounding Damien flew away like a flock of starlings avoiding a bird of prey. They waited for Leech - the oldest demon alive - to bring Damien down.

When Damien sensed her, it was too late. Four tentacles grabbed him by the legs and arms. A flurry of black wrapped around him and Leech’s body vanished as Damien’s body was consumed by the black substance.

He plummeted to the ground. His body squirmed as he tried to tear the substance off of him, but Leech’s essence clung to him like it was a part of him.

Tentacles shot at the ground like anchors and pulled him down faster. The flock of demons from the sky joined the crowd on the ground.

Damien and Leech whistled like a bomb as they fell. The crowd of demons stepped back and left a circular gap for them to land. Victor stood at the back of the crowd. He knew that on impact, they would all run forward and get in each other’s way.

A jet of fire blasted from the top-side of the black mass, driving them down faster. Damien turned Leech’s attempt at harming him against her. If he was going down, she was going down with him. Their collective body spiralled out of control. The crowd stepped further away from the impact zone as it became more and more unpredictable.

The black essence spiked away from Damien’s body like the spines of a porcupine. Leech was trying to let go of Damien, but he exploited her own power and embraced her as part of himself. They fell like a rocket propelled urchin.

The crowd dispersed, all of the demons trying to avoid being hit by it.

Damien and Leech crashed into the ground and the ground grumbled. All the demons fell back on the impact. A cloud of dust blinded them all. Victor quickly shook sand out of his mask and put it back on. He closed his eyes and sensed the presences around him. Nobody was hurt by the impact… other than Leech.

The cloud of dust settled and the demons ran to the edge of the crater that formed. Damien and Leech were blanketed by sand. Damien’s wings spread and beat, shaking off all of the sand that covered him. His wings were hybrid. One was white feathers and the other was black scales. Both were damaged by the fall.

Damien pressed himself up and lifted Leech by the neck. He looked her in her unconscious eyes and showed his teeth like a snarling dog. His wings fluttered like the broken wings of a butterfly. A ball of fire struck his shoulder. He looked at the demon who threw it and dropped Leech’s body to kill him, but a bolt of electricity struck his back. He turned around and roared at the demon who attacked him. The demons slid into the pit one by one to tear him apart like a pack of wild animals.

Victor stayed at the edge of the crater and watched with a sombre expression as the demons went in. He was experienced. He was thoughtful. The demons who dove into the fray were young and stupid. They knew nothing more than to fight as hard as they could, but Victor knew better.

The demons grappled with Damien in the pit, clawed at him, attacked him and struck him with all their powers, harming each other and themselves in their uncoordinated violence. After a few seconds a crimson vortex of blood and flesh sprayed out of the crater. Victor turned his head away and stepped back until the bloody rain had ended.

Just like that, in the span of a few minutes, genocide.

Standing around the crater was himself, the white-haired triplets and foreign demons. All others either died or left. They were ready to retreat. All of them saw the hopelessness in their situation, but they were the good people who took the responsibility of fighting things like this when they gained their powers.

There was silence… then a groaning sound followed by a crunch of bone… then the grunting of Damien as he clawed his way out of the crater. The demons surrounding the crater backed away and readied themselves. Victor placed both hands on his sword, held it at his side slanting down and leaned forward. The other demons’ hands lit up with their energies, but they weren’t the target.

Damien’s hands clawed the dirt at the edge of the crater like talons. He hauled himself out of the crater and his eyes locked onto Victor. He had been a nuisance for long enough, and the monster identified him as the greatest threat here.

Victor was in the presence of the Dunns - the white-haired triplets. They were undeniably the most powerful demons here, other than Damien, of course. Yet, Victor was the target.

Damien’s wings, rejuvenated by the wounds and pain of others, hurled him at Victor. Victor lifted the tip of his sword and pointed it forward, but his reaction was too slow. The blade tore through Damien’s pyjama shirt as his two skinny hands clasped Victor’s throat.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Victor was carried like a meat shield as Damien flew. The crater and the other demons vanished in the distance and his surroundings were a blur. All he could see clearly were the black eyes of Damien.

With his free hand, Victor stuck a thumb into Damien’s eye and with his sword he tried to slit Damien’s throat. Damien threw Victor to the side and crashed into a tree. Bark shattered and flew off. Victor rolled through dead leaves and stood up quickly. His throat was bruised and tight.

Damien held the palm of his hand over his eye and coughed out short screams that sounded like roars. Victor flicked the sword into three slow twists thrice and then put both hands on it. He dropped his hope of helping Damien. He was too late. This needed to end. He ran at Damien without hesitation and slashed his swords upwards. It cut from his hip up to his cheek.

Damien staggered back and looked at Victor unbothered by the pain like it was a familiar friend. Flowing from his strike, Victor curved the sword and cut horizontally. The blade dragged across Damien’s neck and he fell to the side. Victor’s arms went cold. He felt something for the first time since arriving. He felt terrified. He slit the throat of a boy.

The tarantula piercing tightened. The feeling was oppressed and Victor could feel his arms again, but he did nothing.

He held the sword at his side and watched Damien who was on his knees and a hand, with the other hand on his throat. Blood gushed out and leaked between his fingertips. Damien grunted and groaned. His hand lit with an orange glow. He groaned louder as he cauterised his own wound.

Victor gripped the sword with both hands again and raised it over his head. As it came down, Damien moved in a swift and fluid motion. He moved in towards Victor and twisted, his forearm colliding with and redirecting Victor’s. His other hand darted palm-up at Victor’s chin and shot flames.

Victor’s head was overcome by heat and pain. He was a demon. Dealing with pain and heat was part of what he did, but Damien’s powers were overwhelming and unbearable. Damien grabbed Victor’s forearm and held Victor down, his chin against his scorching hand. Victor screamed and stomped the heel of his shoe on Damien’s face.

Damien let go and both hands covered his face as Victor fell onto his back. While he tried to recover from the pain, Damien wasted no time to mourn wounds. With a broken and bloody nose and tears falling from his black eyes he stood up and his wings fluttered. Victor’s jaw clenched through the pain and his eyes were shut tight. His elbows pressed into the ground. He heard Damien move beside him and his eyes flicked open. He caught the glimpse of the monster looming over him. He tried to raise his sword, but Damien’s knees dropped onto his arms and pinned them down. With a merciless frown he beat Victor’s head side-to-side, bloodying his knuckles. On each hit he exhaled aggressively.

He stopped and grabbed Victor’s head and forced it to face him. Victor watched an orange glow rise in Damien’s throat and his wings flare. He was a demon of horror and hell.

Victor’s arms were securely held down, but his legs were free. Damien opened his mouth. The orange glow reflecting off of his gums now. Victor viciously struck his knees into Damien’s back, going for the spine. Damien arched backwards and screamed, the glow receding. Victor hooked a leg around Damien’s throat, pulled him down, kicked him away and crawled out from under him.

Victor rolled onto his stomach, pressed his sword into the ground and pulled himself up. Damien shook the pain out of his head and locked on to Victor again. Victor’s body trembled under the weight of weakness and fear, but he knew he was in a position to either lay down and die or fight.

His sword held him up like a walking stick. Victor leaned down to the side. His hand scooped and flung up flaming dirt at Damien’s face. His skin took the burn and embraced it, but the dirt also landed in his black eyes. Damien grunted like an animal and pressed his palms over his eyes and shook his head. Victor swung his arm and a hook-ended chain of weightless golden light shot out from the veined side of his forearm. The centrifugal force carried the hook around Damien’s knees and snagged into his thigh. Victor jerked the chain. Damien’s legs flew out from under him and he crashed to his back, slamming the back of his head against a hard tree root. His wings beat violently. Damien tried to escape while trying to get the scorched forest floor out of his eyes. The hook tore deeper. Victor held the chain tightly and pulled back, anchored by his sword. The force of Damien’s beating wings levered up the dirt where the sword was stuck. Victor whipped the chain in a moment of slackness and its glow turned from gold to red. Damien’s pyjama pants burnt at the knees where the chain wrapped around him. His violent kicking dislodged the hook, but it pulled a chunk of skin and muscle with it. Blood started to gush from the wound where flesh hung from and Damien roared. Victor pulled on the chain and dragged Damien close enough for him to fall forward and strike him with his sword. He reverse-gripped the sword, pulled it from the ground and struck into the open wound.

Damien roared and a sphere of flame blew Victor away. The chain and sword, both made of Victor’s energy, disintegrated. Victor tumbled through the dirt and stopped against rock unhidden by the dirt. The dome of flame expanded and set the forest ablaze. There was an ache in Victor’s spine and a thundering in his head. His clothes were hot and his skin felt raw. He felt the heat and pulled it into himself, turning the energy into his own. Victor weakly rolled onto his knees and put his right arm out to the side. A new sword unsheathed itself from the vein-side of his right arm in a time-lapse of golden light. Damien’s body crashed into him like a wounded bird and the half-formed sword diminished into flickering dust. Victor stopped on his stomach this time, his head looking into the blaze that ate the forest. The trees were like candles held up by the Earth. Victor rested deep in a lake of fire that slowly ate through dry leaves on its way to drown him.

He felt Damien’s hand grab his shoulder like a vulture’s talons. In the corner of his eye, Victor saw Damien lean over him with a terrifying open grimace and a glow in the back of his throat. His young body was terribly wounded. Damien should have fallen apart, but he marched on driven by a hateful will.

A beam of blue light blasted Damien away from Victor. The triplets had arrived. Victor watched the three run through the flames and jump over him, stepping between him and Damien. The blurry image of their silhouettes passing above was his last sight before his eyes lost focus.

Damien forced himself up, trembling like a wounded dragon and roared at them. The siblings were ready to end this. He was at his weakest, but only physically. Damien’s wings flared and he screamed a tunnel of fire into the sky and like a phoenix reborn, he was ready to fight them all. His wound bled. His nose was still broken and bloody. His wings were still fractured and bent at sharp corners. His leg still leaked blood. Despite it all, Damien stood fearlessly and effortlessly. He was going to kill them, even if it meant tearing himself apart.

The triplets ran at him, attacking from middle and sides. They kicked, punched and threw him to the ground like the child he was, but even their combined powers were no match for him. A pulse of flame threw them all away and fed the flames already devouring the forest.

Victor coughed and he tasted blood. He tried to pull in the heat around him, but he was floating somewhere between dead and alive. His grip on reality was weak. Is this how I die...? It’s a bit late…

He tried to get up with his head hanging low, then fell back down and let the taste of dirt mix with the blood. He was waiting for life to flash before his eyes, but it didn’t. He was left to look at it because flashing life before your eyes didn’t make the point. He endured the slow film of his life.

Matthew was right…

He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the fight. Damien was winning. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll get another life and I can do better.

The sound of footsteps crunching the leaves passed him slowly and gently.

Damien had dealt with the two younger brothers. They weren’t dead, but they were out of the way. The eldest put up the hardest fight. She too was reincarnated once. Her second life would be ended much earlier than her last. Damien held a fiery hand out to the side and held the eldest by the neck with the other. His breathing was inhumane, like a snarl. He was ready to kill; a loaded gun waiting to shoot.

A stone hit the back of his head.

“Damien! Stop it!”

Damien looked behind him and dropped the woman.

Sophia slowly placed one foot after the other in front of herself. Damien walked towards her with both hands on fire and with no intent of mercy for a friend, but she kept on.

“I know you can hear me! Fight him!”

She slowed down as she became unsure of herself, as he kept on coming at her with his hands ablaze. She slowed down until she froze, but she refused to turn back. She was locked in his black-eyed glare.

“Fight him!” she yelled, “This has to end!”

Damien stopped in front of her, close enough for her to feel his smoky breath. He looked at her with intent to kill, but he stood still, like he was hesitating.

______

Where am I?

It’s black…

Am I just blacked out again?

No. No. I think… I can feel my legs… and arms… I can move…

Hate me, a voice echoes.

What is the black? It’s my mind isn’t it? I just get pushed to the back of my mind when he comes?

They hate me…

Then where’s the front?

I look down. I can see myself… a flickering form like a static screen. At irregular intervals I see flashes of my own hands and the fiery ones of the demon.

Scared.

Leave me.

Who am I?

Go away. Diediedie…

I turn around and in the far distance I see a speck of light. I walk towards it, hearing a sound in the distance that becomes clearer. It’s a voice - a voice whose words are meaningless to me, but it’s sound captivates me and makes me feel like this is all going to be okay.

Is that… Sophia?

I hear a song start to play in the distance.

I smell rosewater.

I hear a man crying.

I feel guilty. I feel traumatised. I feel so, so sorry for something I don’t remember doing.

The light is an oval screen that fades at its edges - that is my sight. It’s night. I see Sophia walking backwards away from something. She looks scared.

“I’m sorry,” a voice echoes. “I’m so sorry.”

I hear more men crying in the distance - all the same man. It sounds like multiple memories playing at the same time. Why am I sorry? What did I do?

In front of the screen, a man stands up to Sophia. He looks like my past life, but I know it’s not him. I can see the black smoke flowing from his eyes. This is the demon.

I slowly walk behind him. I sense him standing here in front of me like an unstable presence in my mind. I stop right behind him and look at the screen.

“I know you can hear me! Fight him!” Sophia yells.

What?

“Fight him! This has to end!”

… Something switches on in me.

I stand here in my own mind, where all the confusion and overwhelming self-destructive chaos takes place. I feel that frustrating familiarity again. I hear more crying like a painful and unconducted orchestra of pain.

The familiarity changes. I hear screaming. I hear rageful screaming.

The familiarity turns into a realisation. A faceless figure made of pink light dances around me to a song I don’t know.

I don’t know what I’m realising, but there is a clarity to the confusion.

I look at the man… This is the demon. This is the demon ruining my life. This is the demon that ruined the man’s life. This is the demon that ruined my lives.

I yell. The crying and the screaming go quiet.

I jump onto his back and wrap my arms around his neck and try to choke him. The demon falls away from the screen and swings around to get me off. His fingers slip under my arms and pry them off. I land on my feet and the man kicks backwards, knocking me to the ground. I groan and feel my ribs ache. The man marches towards me. He raises a fist. I close my eyes and I feel a loose fragment of my shattered self break away from me.

I keep my eyes closed with an arm guarding my head, waiting for him to strike me, but I hear grunting and shuffling. I open my eyes and see the demon being wrestled by the man from my past life. I watch in awe. I can feel his anger. I can feel that this is greater than a simple brawl. This is the final clash of an eternal war between a demon and a man who has had enough. That man is me. I have had enough. I am tired and I have had enough and this is where it ends.

“Reclaim my mind!” we both yell. I nod to myself and get up quickly and run to the screen.

“You need me!” the demon yells, “YOU NEED ME!”

“I need you dead!” we both yell back, “I need you gone! I don’t need you anymore! I never needed you before and I should never have trusted you!”

Then I feel my connection with my past life strike a hitch.

“I am D’Angel!” the man yells alone, with a rage that only he can understand, “Son of witch and devil! And I have had enough!”

The last few words echo and fade as I step into the light of my vision. What does he mean? Is this some memory I haven’t received yet?

I am D’Angel, son of witch and devil…

I hear it, and like waking up from a dream of a past life, I feel myself forgetting it. I feel this vital piece of information leaving me.

I am D’Angel.

I am D’Angel.

I am… I am… What was I thinking about?

______

Sophia looked at the ground with her eyes shut tight. She was as ready to die as any demon and person who knew what was happening.

Damien fell forward, resting his head on her shoulder and hugging her. The black in his eyes had vanished, replaced by tears. “How did you know I could hear you,” he asked and then sobbed. Sophia sighed with relief and hugged him back. Of course, you would know, he thought, of course you would know.

Sirens whirred, from ambulances, fire trucks and police. Smoke hid the stars and moon, giving the angels and demons shadows to vanish into. The fire left a mark of the battle. Black scars on trees would be the only proof that it happened at all.

The nearest pocket dimension filled to its edges as a temporary refuge for the survivors. There was no more denying it now; demons existed. The triplets carried Victor without the slightest temptation to take off his mask and they guided Sophia and Damien to the nearest pocket as well. Damien was met with ugly looks and threats, but the eldest of the triplets stood between aggressors and Damien. The fight was over, but many of them couldn’t come to terms with the losses. This was the lifestyle they chose when becoming demons. This… This was just a part of their primal world. Death was part of the game.

Victor didn’t know where he was. He didn’t bother opening his eyes to find out. They flickered for a bit as he was waking up and caught a glimpse of fire and long silver hair. He felt the warmth of a hand holding one of his wounds and the pain of it going away. He could hear exhausted, soothing voices clearly, but he was too close to sleep to understand any of it. The only thing he understood for that while was his mortality.

I’m alive. Thank whatever God.

That experience of rejecting death, of desiring life, played on loop. He tried to brainwash himself. He needed himself to see the bigger picture. Lying down in dirt with a painful body and a regretful soul. That’s all it was. He would have been forgotten. He would have vanished and with nobody to remember he existed, he wouldn’t have existed at all. Victor wanted to hold onto that feeling. He wanted to remember what it’s like at the doorstep of becoming a nothing.

If I were to die right now...