Damien's world dissolved into darkness, the faint remnants of Eden's touch replaced by the chilling grasp of his nightmare. This time, the terror was immediate and visceral. No drifting into sleep, no quiet whispers—only the overwhelming sensation of cold iron chains snapped around his limbs and dragging him into the abyss.
He awoke—or thought he did—on his knees, his body bound in chains that glowed faintly with an otherworldly, sickly green light. The links were rough and biting, etched with incomprehensible symbols that burned against his skin. His wrist bled where the metal had rubbed his flesh raw, and the coppery tang of blood filled the air.
"Welcome back, Damien."
The voice was a guttural rasp, layered and inhuman, reverberating from everywhere and nowhere. It was the voice of the Vexis, the name that clawed its way into his mind—a manifestation of hatred so ancient and profound it seemed to bleed into existence itself.
"You look so fragile," it sneered, its words dripping with malice. "So pathetic. A mere insect, pretending to be a man."
Damien tried to scream, to protest, but his voice was swallowed by the void. His surroundings began to take shape—a grotesque parody of the real world. Twisted, jagged spires jutted from the ground, their surfaces slick with blood that dripped endlessly into a bottomless pit below. The air was heavy, stinking of rot and decay. Skeletal remains littered the ground, their hollow eye sockets staring accusingly at him.
Before him, suspended in the air, hung mutilated figures. Some were missing limbs; others had their flesh flayed from their bones. Their mouths hung open in silent screams, their eyes wide with unending agony.
"Do you like it?" Vexis hissed, its form emerging from the shadows. It was a monstrous amalgamation of limbs and faces, its body twisting and shifting like a nightmare made flesh with the embers of an eternal fire. Multiple eyes dotted its form, each burning with hatred.
"This is my world. My hell. And now, it is yours."
The chains around Damien's wrist yanked him forward, dragging him across the jagged ground. Each movement tore at his flesh, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He screamed, the sound raw and guttural, as the Vexis loomed over him.
"You made me," it spat, its multiple voices overlapping in a cacophony of rage. "Your kind created me and locked me away, leaving me to rot in this pit of despair. But I am no longer bound. I am free, Damien. And I will make you feel gate."
It reached down with one of its many clawed hands, gripping Damien's face with brutal force. The sensation was unbearable—like molten iron searing into his skin. He writhed and screamed, but the Vexis only laughed.
"You want to know what hate feels like?" it said, leaning closer. It's breath was a putrid mix of sulfur and decay. "Let me show you."
The world shifted again, and Damien found himself standing in a corridor. The walls were lined standing in a corridor. The walls were lined with flesh, pulsating and oozing dark ichor. Faces pushed against the surface, screaming silently as they clawed to escape. The floor squelched beneath his feet, each step sinking slightly into the grotesque material.
Figures emerged from the shadows—demons with twisted, malformed bodies. Their eyes glowed with malevolence, and their mouths were filled with jagged, yellow teeth. THey carried weapons made of bone and sinew, dripping with viscera.
They advanced on Damien, their movements predatory and deliberate. He tried to run, but the corridor stretched endlessly in both directions. The walls closed in, the faces screaming louder as the demons closed the distance.
One of them lunged, its claws raking across his chest. Blood sprayed across the walls, and Damien collapsed to the ground, clutching the wound, The other descended upon him, their weapons cutting into his flesh, tearing him apart piece by piece.
Pain consumed him. Every nerve in his body screamed as they ripped him apart, their laughter echoing in his ears.
"Enough," a voice aid, sitting through the chaos like a blade.
The light that followed was blinding, pure and radiant, washing over the grotesque scene. The demons shrieked and writhed as their bodies dissolved into ash. The corridor crumbled, the fleshy walls disintegrating into nothingness.
Eden—or what had been Eden—descended into the nightmare. Her golden wings spread wide, their brilliance a stark contrast to the darkness. Her eyes, glowing with divine power, locking onto Damien's mutilated form.
She knelt beside him, her touch gentle as she placed a and over his chest. "You will not break him," she said, her voice firm and resolute.
The Vexis materialized again, its form more monstrous than ever. "You think you can save him?" it roared, its voices overlapping in a deafening crescendo. "He is mine! He will always be mine!"
"You have no place here," the angel said, rising to her full height. Her light intensified, forcing the Vexis to recoil.
"This is not over," the Vexis hissed, its form dissipating into the void. "I am part of him now. You cannot save him from me."
The angel turned back to Damien, who lay motionless on the ground. WIth a wave of her hand, the chains shattered, and the wounds on his body began to heal. She cupped his face, her eyes softening.
"Rest now," she whispered, her voice soothing. "The fight is far from over, but you are not alone."
Damien awoke in his bed, drenched in sweat. His body, and his mind was a whirlwind of fear and confusion. He sat up, gasping for breath, and ran a trembling hand through his hair.
In the mirror across the room, a faint glow caught his eye. He froze, staring at the reflection. The Vexis's eyes burned back at him, filled with hatred and malice.
"What do you want from me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The eyes blinked out of existence, leaving only his own haunted reflection staring back.