15.Echoes of Madness
Damon stood in the darkness, a vast, endless void that stretched in every direction. There was no ground beneath him, no sky above—only an oppressive blackness that seemed to press against his mind, suffocating and alive. He couldn't feel his body, couldn't hear his own breath, but he was aware, somehow, that he was here. The void was silent, yet it hummed with a low, almost imperceptible vibration that resonated deep within him.
"Where am I?" Damon thought, his consciousness steady, unshaken. He had been here before, in dreams or memories—he couldn't tell which. But this time, it felt different. This time, it felt "real".
Suddenly, a child darted past him, a fleeting shadow against the oppressive black. The boy's laughter was sharp, almost cruel, and it cut through the silence like a knife. Ahead, a sliver of white light pierced the darkness, a jagged tear in the fabric of the void. The light was blinding, yet inviting, and Damon felt an inexplicable pull toward it.
"Wait! Wait!" Damon tried to shout, but no sound came out. He moved—or thought he moved—toward the child, his steps silent, his body weightless. The boy glanced back, his face obscured by the shadows, but Damon could see the glint of his eyes—bright, manic, and unnervingly familiar.
The child laughed again, a high-pitched, grating sound that echoed unnaturally in the void. "Catch me if you can, Damon!" the boy taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.
Damon's heart—or the memory of a heartbeat—remained steady as he pursued the child, his awareness flickering like a broken film reel. The light grew brighter, more intense, until it filled his vision entirely. Just as he reached out to grab the child, the light consumed him, swallowing him whole. For a moment, there was nothing but blinding whiteness, and then—
Damon blinked, his vision clearing as he found himself in a familiar room. The air was thick, heavy, but he couldn't smell it, couldn't feel it. He was here, yet not here—a ghost in his own mind. His hands trembled as he raised them, and there it was—a gold bracelet, intricately designed, coiled around his wrist like a serpent. His heart—or the echo of it—remained steady. This was his body, his *previous* body.
"Am I dreaming? Hallucinating?" he muttered, but the words felt hollow, as if they weren't truly his.
Before him stood the child again, but this time, Damon recognized him. It was *himself*—Akim, his former life, staring back with eyes that glimmered with a madness Damon knew all too well. The boy's lips curled into a grin, too wide, too unnatural.
"Akim... or should I call us Damon now?" the child said, his voice a haunting blend of innocence and malice. "I want to return."
Damon's chest tightened, though he couldn't feel the sensation. "What do you mean, *return*? What are you saying?"
The child tilted his head, his grin widening until it seemed to split his face in two. "Don't you feel it, Damon? The pull? The *hunger*? It's been waiting for so long... waiting for *us*." The boy's voice was singsong, but there was a sharp edge to it, like the scrape of a knife against glass.
Damon took a step back, his heart steady, his mind calm. "What are you talking about? What hunger?"
The child giggled, a sound that sent chills down Damon's spine. "The abyss, Damon. The abyss inside us. It's been calling, calling, *calling*! And now it's time to answer." The boy's eyes darkened, the pupils expanding until they swallowed the irises whole. "We're one, you and I. Always have been. Always will be."
Damon shook his head, his voice rising in panic. "No! This isn't real! You're not real!"
The child's laughter grew louder, more manic. "Oh, I'm real, Damon. I'm as real as the madness that's been gnawing at your soul. Don't you remember? The things we've done? The things we'll do again?"
Damon's thoughts raced, a storm of confusion and fear. "Have I been living in peace for so long that I'm forgetting who I am?" he wondered, the question echoing in his mind like a distant bell.
The child's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a cruel delight. "Yes! Throw that peace away! It's made you weak, Damon. Weak! Hahaha!" The boy's laughter was sharp, almost painful, and it seemed to reverberate through Damon's very soul.
Damon clenched his fists, his voice trembling. "I'm not weak. I've fought to stay sane, to keep the madness at bay."
The child's expression shifted, his grin fading into something darker, more sinister. "You were never meant to be sane in the first place," he said, his voice low and guttural. "But something protected your sanity... for a time." The boy scratched at his head, his fingers digging into his scalp as if trying to claw something out. "Now it's gone. Now it's time to return."
With a sudden jerk, the child pointed to a corner of the room. Damon's gaze followed, and his blood ran cold. There, in the shadows, something stirred. It was formless, yet it had a presence, a weight that pressed against Damon's very soul. The air grew colder, and the walls seemed to close in, the room itself breathing in sync with the thing in the corner.
The child began to chant, his voice rising in a fevered crescendo. "Madness waits for you! It wants to return! Let's return! Let's return! Let's return!"
The words clawed at Damon's mind, each repetition digging deeper, unraveling something buried within him. He clutched his head, trying to block out the voice, but it was inside him now, echoing in the hollows of his skull. The room began to warp, the walls melting like wax, and the floor tilted beneath his feet. He stumbled, falling to his knees as the child's laughter grew louder, more manic.
Meanwhile, the Willow Tree of Imagination loomed over Velma, her form shifting and twisting like a living nightmare. Her fingers reached out like skeletal fingers, and her eyes glowed with an otherworldly light. Velma scrambled backward, her breath coming in ragged gasps, until she tripped and fell hard onto the ground. The Willow Tree's hand glowed with a sickly yellowish light, and before Velma could react, it pried her mouth open with unnatural strength. Velma gagged as the Willow Tree forced something into her throat—a glowing, pulsating orb that burned like fire as it slid down.
Velma choked, clawing at her neck as she stumbled to her feet. "What did you do to me?!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and desperate. But before she could say more, a wave of dizziness crashed over her. Her vision blurred, and she collapsed to the ground, her body convulsing as the orb took hold. Her fingers dug into the earth, her nails breaking as she writhed in agony. The world around her seemed to dissolve, replaced by a swirling vortex of colors and shapes that made no sense.
The Willow Tree turned away, her expression unreadable, and approached the Void Giant. The massive being loomed like a mountain of darkness, his eyes glowing faintly with an ancient, malevolent intelligence.
"You felt it, didn't you?" the Willow Tree said, her voice cold and distant.
The Void Giant's gaze shifted to her, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to shake the very air. "What is this entity searching for in this lowly world?"
The Willow Tree's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "The abyss within him... pray you never see it again."
With that, she turned and walked away, her form dissolving into the shadows. But instead of disappearing entirely, she reappeared at Damon's side, her presence a cold, steadying force amidst the chaos.
As Damon clutched his head, the child's chants clawed at his mind like serrated blades. His heart—steady for so long—pounded now, not from fear of the madness, but from a deeper, quieter terror. "Would they accept him?" The question tore through him like a storm. His newfound family, the ones he'd fought to protect… they were his pride. But pride meant nothing if they recoiled from the truth of what he was.
The child—Akim—laughed, but the sound fractured, splintering into something raw. "**Let's return! Let's return!**" he screeched, his voice echoing with the desperation of centuries.
Damon's jaw tightened. He didn't fear the abyss. He feared the silence that would follow if his family turned away. *Would they still call him brother? Son? * Or would they see only the god of madness, the entity even the Void Giant dared not name?
"**Enough.**" Damon's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and final. He stepped toward Akim, his movements deliberate, unyielding. The child froze, his wide eyes flickering with a madness that mirrored Damon's own.
"You've endured," Damon said, his tone softer now, almost mournful. "You've tried *enough*."
Akim's laughter died. For a heartbeat, the room fell silent. Then, slowly, the child's grin crumpled. A single tear slid down his cheek, glinting like a shard of broken glass. He bent his head, his small shoulders trembling.
"Accept what's yours," Akim whispered, his voice fraying at the edges. "That's… all I want."
The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Before Damon could respond, Akim's form began to dissolve, his edges blurring into motes of golden light. The child raised his hand, as if to touch Damon's face, but his fingers scattered like ash and then he was gone.