Azrael staggered to his feet, his entire body trembling from the shock of the Wyrm's violent attack. He stood at the edge of a vast, inky lake—its surface shimmering, not with light, but with a liquid darkness that seemed alive. The shadows shifted and undulated as though they had minds of their own, beckoning him to come closer, to step in, to drown.
What is this place?
Azrael thought, his heart hammering in his chest. He could feel the pull, the intoxicating allure of the shadows calling to him like an old friend. The power that radiated from the lake was undeniable—tempting, almost irresistible. Every fiber of his demon nature screamed for him to dive in and take it.
For a moment, he hesitated. He could use this power to destroy Seraphina once and for all, to finally put an end to the light she embodied. His pride swelled at the thought of her lying defeated, her Starfire extinguished forever. But then, the voice of reason—the small flicker of humanity still buried within him—reminded him of the Wyrm, the real enemy they were supposed to defeat. If he gave in now, would he have enough strength left to face it?
The molten shadows rippled, sending dark waves toward him. A voice echoed from the depths, soft and coaxing. "Give yourself to me, Azrael… Embrace what you were always meant to be. No more weakness, no more chains of humanity holding you back. I will make you unstoppable."
Azrael's muscles tensed as he stepped forward, drawn to the voice. He knelt at the edge of the lake, the heat of the liquid shadow licking at his skin like hungry flames. His demon powers flared in response, feeding off the energy of the abyss. It was intoxicating, stronger than anything he'd ever felt before.
"You could have everything you ever wanted," the voice whispered again, more insistent this time. "Revenge against those who wronged you, the power to crush anyone who stands in your way. Just let go... Let it all go."
The temptation gnawed at his very core. His crimson eyes gleamed with a dangerous hunger as the lake's energy surged into him, fueling the darkness inside. He could feel it growing stronger—the shadows offering him untold power, power beyond his wildest dreams. But with that strength came a price. He could feel himself slipping, losing the last fragments of his humanity as the shadows whispered of conquest, of destruction.
He clenched his fists, his breathing labored as the lake's black tendrils began to coil around his legs, pulling him deeper into its embrace. His pride screamed at him to take the power, to give in completely. Yet a flicker of doubt lingered in the recesses of his mind. Would he lose himself entirely if he surrendered to the shadow's call?
The liquid shadows rose higher, reaching his waist now, swirling around him like living serpents. Their whispers grew louder, drowning out everything else. His heart began to race, his thoughts clouded with memories of betrayal—his childhood, his mother's face as she was taken from him, her eyes pleading for him to be strong.
The shadows promised vengeance. They promised victory. They promised to take away the pain.
Suddenly, the weight of his past slammed into him, harder than ever before. He saw flashes of his younger self, helpless, kneeling before his dying mother. The same helplessness he had felt all those years ago when his home was razed to the ground by the Light realm. His fists clenched tighter, his nails digging into his skin. A burning rage welled up inside him, threatening to spill over.
"I can't let them win again..." Azrael muttered under his breath, his eyes flickering with both fire and darkness. "I can't—"
But before he could finish, the shadows surged around him, dragging him beneath the surface of the lake. He tried to scream, but his voice was swallowed by the blackness. The molten shadow wrapped around his body like chains, pulling him deeper into its cold, suffocating depths.
As he sank, memories began to flood his mind—visions of his mother's death, his home in flames, the faces of those who betrayed him. His fists pounded against the void, but the shadow lake only held him tighter. He was drowning, not in water, but in pure, unbridled darkness.
Azrael's consciousness swirled in the black void, lost in a haze of old memories. He saw himself as a child, running through the dark streets of his home, the night of the raid. The witches had come without warning, striking down anyone in their path. His mother had hidden him in the cellar, her final words a whispered promise to protect him.
But she couldn't. They found her. They always did.
The memory shifted. Now, he was standing in the charred remains of his childhood home, his mother's lifeless body cradled in his arms. Her once warm eyes were now cold, staring blankly at the sky. His entire world had been torn apart, and he had been powerless to stop it.
"Azrael..." a soft voice called to him, breaking through the nightmare.
He turned sharply, his breath catching in his throat. Standing before him was a figure he had not seen in years—his mother. She looked exactly as she had the day she died, her long raven hair cascading over her shoulders, her soft eyes filled with sorrow. But something was different now—her form flickered like a dying flame, as if she were only a phantom of the past.
"Mother?" Azrael whispered, his voice trembling.
"Azrael, please," she said, stepping toward him. Her voice was soft, pleading. "Don't let the darkness take you. You're stronger than this. You've always been stronger."
Her words cut through the haze of his mind like a knife. He wanted to believe her, to hold on to that part of him that still remembered love, still remembered light. But the weight of his past was too much, too heavy. The darkness had been with him for so long, it was all he knew.
"I can't..." Azrael growled, his hands trembling as his mother's image began to blur. "I need this power. I need it to destroy them all."
"Azrael, no," she begged, reaching out to him. "Revenge won't bring me back. It won't fill the emptiness inside you."
But her words only fueled his anger. The darkness surged inside him, and with a roar, he threw off her spectral hand. "They *deserve* to burn for what they did!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the void. "I'll destroy them all... every last one of them!"
His mother's image flickered one last time before vanishing into the shadows, leaving him alone in the cold, empty void of his mind.
As the vision faded, the molten shadows closed in on Azrael once more, wrapping around his body like a shroud. But this time, he didn't fight it. He embraced it. The darkness was his now, and he would wield it as a weapon. There was no room for doubt, no room for weakness.
With a sudden burst of energy, Azrael shot out of the lake, his body surrounded by swirling tendrils of shadow. His crimson eyes blazed with a dark fire as he landed on the rocky shore, his chest heaving with newfound power.
The shadows clung to him like a second skin, crackling with dark energy. He could feel the strength coursing through his veins, the power of the abyss fueling his every move. But there was something else now—something darker, something more primal. The last shred of his humanity was gone, replaced by a hunger for destruction.
Azrael clenched his fists, feeling the shadows respond to his every thought, his every command. He was no longer bound by the limitations of the mortal world. He was something more now—something greater.
With a sinister grin, he turned his gaze toward the distant part of the lair where Seraphina had fallen. His mind burned with one single, all-consuming thought:
Find her. Destroy her.
He took a step forward, his body dissolving into the shadows as he moved with inhuman speed through the dark caverns of the lair. His mother's voice echoed faintly in his mind, but he silenced it with a single thought. There was no going back now. There was only the darkness—and the power it promised.