Daegelus | Volume One: Subject 0333

Chapter Twenty-Five | The Darkness

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Endless darkness stretched in every direction.

Elijah knew where he was...again. And just like before, that black-haired, red-eyed man was standing a hundred feet away from him. That strange sense of familiarity gripped him, urging him to try and work out why he felt like he knew the man—and it didn't feel like his previous realization was enough. He'd seen this man in the real world, but he wasn't going mad; it was a vision, but why?

"Eli..." the man called, his lips not moving, and his voice silvery and distorted. "Find them.... Find us.... Ronan."

The demon stepped forward, but instead of demanding the man's name, he hesitated. What Zoe said to him after he'd woken from his last dream struck him; she told him that her dad had similar dreams and that nothing made sense until he listened. The girl also said that demons had very powerful instincts, that his dreams might be trying to tell him something. But how was he supposed to listen when the black-haired man only ever said the same words?

He took another step, and as he did before, the black-haired man mirrored Elijah's movements. So the demon slowly prowled forward, getting closer and closer to the man until he disappeared and abruptly reappeared in front of Elijah. The man reached out his hand, and this time, Elijah didn't back off. He waited, watching as the man's clawed hand gradually edged nearer to him, but he didn't twist his wrist or try to snatch any part of him.

Elijah had to listen, right? He lifted his own hand, but he felt a little hesitant. What if he didn't like what he might learn?

The black-haired man's hand retreated—

"Wait," Elijah snapped. He couldn't be hesitant. He had to be sure.

As he scowled away his confliction, Elijah reached out, and the black-haired man extended his arm again. As the demon twisted his wrist, preparing to grab him, the man mirrored him, twisting his hand, reaching for Elijah's wrist. The demon took a deep breath, preparing for whatever he might be able to see...and then he grasped the man's wrist, and the man grabbed him.

A searing pain cut through Elijah's head as his ears rang loudly, and a confusing array of sights flashed before the demon's eyes.

Snow. So much snow.

Cylinders filled with green ooze and monsters.

A small, green-eyed girl with tiny horns on her head.

Feathers.

Rainfall.

Haru...in a memory Elijah held most dear.

A red-eyed woman with black hair and a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Someone indistinguishable but with a maniacal smile that Elijah could have sworn he saw when he first dreamed of the ooze-filled cylinders.

The black-haired man before him but in a different place—a place so white that it hurt Elijah's eyes to stare.

More cylinders...but these ones were filled with silvery ooze and severed feathered wings.

And Haru again, crying in the corner of an empty, dark room. Alone. Not a memory.

Doctors. All the doctors who made Elijah's life absolute hell.

Blood. Splattered on the walls, the floor, the snow. Dripping down the pale skin of a man.

And two men, one with dark hair, one with hair as red as blood, both standing atop a stage surrounded by an endless horde of winged, horned people, who revelled and marvelled in their gaze.