Kyrie felt the cold metal of his rod in his hands as he pulled the blades out, positioning himself in a more threatening stance, ready to engage in battle if necessary. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Naamaah began to circle around him, her movements graceful and fluid, almost hypnotic. She adjusted the blouse she wore, the fabric rustling softly, then brushed some dust from the skirt of her dress, her fingers dancing delicately across the fabric. Finally, she ran her hands through her hair.
“I search for the Gates, just like you. I also want to know the Truth.” Her hands landed on his shoulders, grounding him momentarily, but Kyrie's instincts kicked in. He violently tried to shake her off, but in an instant, she was ten feet away, a wisp of shadow in the dim light.
“Are you planning to start a fight?” she asked, her voice calm, betraying no hint of fear.
“Only if I can figure out what the hell is going on here!” Kyrie replied, his frown deepening, frustration boiling in his veins. The air around them felt charged as if the very atmosphere was holding its breath in anticipation of conflict.
“Why are you looking for the Truth?” Naamaah’s question hung in the air, laden with expectation.
Coldness enveloped Kyrie, a chill that seeped into his bones. He didn’t have an answer, and the admission stung. Why was he on this quest? Why did he feel compelled to chase after something so nebulous? The uncertainty gnawed at him like a hungry beast.
“Don’t worry; I understand your doubts. I did not know why I did things in the beginning. Yet nowadays, I know where I stand and where I want to go. And I hope I can help you clear your doubts.” Her sincerity seeped through the tension, but it felt like a distant shore he could not reach.
Suddenly, a dark cloud gathered around her, swirling ominously. From it emerged a swarm of insects, beetles, and black moths that fluttered toward him. They surrounded him in an instant, their tiny bodies brushing against his skin, sending shivers racing up his spine. The buzzing filled his ears, drowning out the world, and amplifying his rising panic. Kyrie swatted at the insects, feeling their bodies crumple against his skin, but they kept coming, relentless and suffocating.
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Naamaah was gone, and the sudden absence of her presence left a void that echoed in his chest. “Naamaah!” he shouted, but the sound was swallowed by the cacophony of wings and the bugs' frantic movement. He searched for her through the swarm, but the insects formed a thick curtain, obscuring everything, and leaving him isolated.
“Do you really want to do this?” Naamaah’s voice pierced the chaos as the moths swirled around her, forming a visage that bore her concerned expression. Her eyes, once fierce, now shimmered with an unsettling softness that made Kyrie’s heart race. Without thinking, he lashed out, swinging at her face, but the moths scattered just in time, evading his blow.
Panic surged through him as the beetles began to scuttle up his arm and legs, their tiny bodies prickling against his skin. He recoiled, falling to the ground, rolling in a desperate attempt to shake off the insects. The sensation of their many legs crawling over him ignited a burning disgust within him, an overwhelming urge to escape. “Why are you doing this?” he gasped, struggling to his feet, the ground rough against his palms.
As he regained his footing, he noticed the insects coalescing, forming a humanoid pitch-black figure before him. It manifested into a grotesque demon with wings and cow-like horns, a nightmarish specter that sent a jolt of terror coursing through Kyrie’s veins. “We are in another plane, bilocated,” the demon spoke, its voice a distorted echo. “Our bodies exist in the material world, but our souls, struggling at this moment, are in the spiritual realm!”
Kyrie’s breath hitched, uncertainty flooding his mind. Before he could process the implications of the demon’s words, it lunged at him. The force of its strike knocked him off balance, and he crashed onto his back, the air rushing from his lungs. Naamaah, now looming above him in this demonic shape, sat on his chest, her piercing eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his pulse quicken.
“By my abilities, you may think me an evil and ruthless Jana. I don’t blame you. Despite everything you want to believe, I never wanted these powers. They are a curse that has haunted me since I was young.” Her voice trembled with raw emotion, but the weight of her presence grounded Kyrie in a conflicting mix of anger and empathy.
With a surge of adrenaline, Kyrie attempted to push her off, but Naamaah vanished in an instant, reappearing several steps away from Halyna and Selene. “Don’t dare to touch them!” he shouted, dread coiling in his gut. The thought of losing them spurred him into action.
“I won’t do it; I do not need to do anything to them.” Naamaah’s voice remained steady, but Kyrie saw a flicker of determination in her eyes that both intrigued and terrified him.