The horizon was tinged with a deep, gloomy glow as Vem and Aislin moved away from the jagged edge of the Black Sea, its eerie silence hanging over them like a spell. Vem was breathing shallowly, every step forward a test of strength from the unrelenting pain gnawing at his side. He could feel the wound growing stronger by the moment, reminding him of the force they had faced and the price it had cost him. But even as he staggered, he forced himself to keep up with Aislin, every move as determined and unyielding as a challenge to his own body.
The shore grew farther and farther away, its ghostly presence looming behind them like an indistinct shadow. They both walked in rare silence, weighed down by the gruesome discovery of the angel remains they had found—scattered fragments attesting to a brutal force. There were still images of broken wings and bones in their minds, a chilling reminder of what even divine beings can turn into.
"Aislin," Vem began in a hoarse voice as they walked around a jagged ledge of rock, "what could destroy her?"
Aislin's face tightened, her eyes darkened and became unreadable. "There are forces that are hidden deeper than we can imagine, older and much more dangerous. Some of them may not have a name or they are not related to anyone but themselves." She shifted her gaze to the path ahead, as if trying not to meet his gaze. "Similar creatures... They feed on things that we can't control. Their power lies in chaos, in absorbing what others create."
The words hung in the air between them, filled with meaning that Vem couldn't ignore. Each step was harder for him as he considered what they had seen. He was trained to fight, he faced dangers beyond the comprehension of a mortal, but this... It was something else, a dark mystery woven into the very fabric of his plan. The images in his mind, crude and intuitive, refused to disappear, casting shadows over his every thought.
"What does this mean for us?" Vem asked, forcing himself to keep talking, hoping to distract himself from the growing pain that was making it difficult to concentrate. "For Cevastein... if it really was a succubus, then..."
Aislin didn't answer right away. They continued on their way in silence, broken only by the crunching of gravel under their feet and the distant echo of the sea hitting the shore, like the pulse of something alive and ancient.
"We need to get back to Cevastein," she finally said in an even but quiet voice, as if she were sharing a forbidden secret. "Lord Uwell needs to know what we've found, and as soon as possible. If succubus is out there somewhere... maybe she's not the only one. And from what we've seen, it's not just a creature, it's a curse. Heritage." She looked at him, and there was a fierce determination in her eyes. "If the rumors about this are true, we may face a threat that is older than the story itself."
Vem's mind spun, following the bleak prospects her words implied. It's one thing to come face to face with an enemy, to prepare for a battle with the visible, and quite another to come face to face with a creature woven from the dark spaces between knowledge, a creature that can violate all the laws known to it.
A shiver ran down his spine, a sharp, primal warning. The pain grew, searing him from the inside out as he began to stumble and his vision began to blur. He forced himself to steady his breathing, to hold on, but every heartbeat reverberated in the wound, and some irresistible force pulled him down.
His vision narrowed, his perception of the world blurred. He could barely make out Aislin's figure in front of him, her silhouette indistinct against the darkening sky.
"Vem," Aislin's voice came to him, sounding worried. She stopped, staring at him. "Can you continue?"
He wanted to reassure her, to push her forward and show her that he could still move, but his strength was leaving him with every step. The sharp, aching pain began to intensify, setting a rhythm that reverberated in his head, and with each beat he was getting closer to the edge. He stumbled and she caught him, her grip firm and unwavering, holding him as the world spun around him.
"We're not far now," she whispered, her voice sounding confident, pulling him out of the dark, dizzying depths of his mind. "Just hold on. We'll find shelter up ahead and you'll rest."
Aislin led him forward with her hand on his shoulder, and Vem let her lead him, focusing on the uneven path below them, on the sharp rocks that cut into his senses. With each step, he sank deeper into a strange rhythm that became fainter, softer, until the pain turned into a barely audible noise in the background, swallowed up by a feverish fog.
Time lost its meaning, every second passed as if hours had passed. He could barely distinguish movement from stillness, the sharp clarity of the surroundings began to fade, becoming dimmer and softer. The pain remained, but it was distant, not so strong, as if he had slipped into the boundary space between sensations and thoughts.
Aislin's voice was fading, her presence fading as his mind drifted deeper into a feverish sleep. Fragments of memories surfaced in his mind, blurred and distorted, faces and voices that he couldn't recognize, but somehow recognized. It seemed to him that he was walking through a hazy echo of his past, an obsessive collection of images and sounds that had neither logic nor order.
The edges of his consciousness blurred, and then darkness fell. Shapes appeared in her—vague, whispering, taking shape of a face, then disappearing, dissolving into shadows. And yet, in the midst of the darkness, one figure lingered, emitting a supernatural light. He couldn't make out the details, but he could feel its presence, a being hidden beneath layers of mystery, every aspect of which eluded his attention.
He felt something familiar in the figure's gaze, as if they were familiar somewhere beyond memory. The words came from invisible lips in a language he did not understand, but the intentions were clear. It was the source of something ancient, something he had always felt but never known.
The figure began to change, flickering with strange visions that danced in his mind—flashes of unknown lands, creatures bound by their own nature, trapped in dark desires. And in these visions he saw the faint outlines of a succubus, not as it was now, but as it could be—a creature trapped, lost, abandoned, seeking redemption, turned into something monstrous.
A feeling of horror and compassion swept over him, conflicting emotions that he couldn't make out, and he felt himself sinking deeper, losing his composure in this dream. He was spiraling into it, surrounded by secrets that the world itself kept.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the visions receded, the darkness receding like a tide, bringing him back to consciousness. Vem's breathing became shallow, the pain rolling in waves as he drifted between sleep and wakefulness, not knowing where he was.