He dreams of it so very often, when his eyes refuse to remain open, and mind thinking. And he falls into the lull of sleep encumbered breathing, his presence fading from the candlelight, and the familiar smell of ash singed wax. And the whole of his heart is taken, spirited away, right back to foot prints marked where he had stood within the fade. Thoughts fogging with want for something not of him.
Like his mind has been emptied, seeking to recall what he knows he must, but cannot. And the demon says he will be free, and he cannot believe it lies. It's voice whispers up his spine to crawl like a spider with spindly legs through his skull, biting when there is resistence. And the venom slows his mind farther still, keeping it ever empty.
He is bade to kill her. To kill them. Faces he holds love for, but cannot feel the burning of that affection now, and does not feel his response to such demand.
Freedom...Yes. It is worth any cost, no matter the steep price. Isn't it? It is all that should be, all that there is. So he brings his blade forth to carve out their souls.
He turns on her first, she poses the greatest threat to his cage being broken and his shackles unbound. And she is begging, like a sorrowful child with wide eyed fear and tears threatening to drown her. But his only care is for the air of unlabored breath, and the lack of tax to his wit and his patience, and this is alright. It will be over soon and she will feel no pain. His opportunity means so much more. Yes?...
All others vanish away and she struggles hard, fleeing when possible, pleading still. And his demon still asks it of him, and he follows her on the chase, leading further into nothingness.
She is hard to destroy, but he must be rid of her so he cuts her open, brings her down. Eyes turned blind to the blood pouring through his fingers like waterfalls through a crowned cliff. Looking onward to what will become of them, and not what has been done. She breaks apart into pieces disappearing and revealing a light in her center, so bright it stings his eyes.
All at once they stand in the starry sky. On the precipice of utter black, that glitters with sparks. And she shoots away, with no one to wish on her streak, to twinkle like a flickering flame in the night. And it is now he feels all the hurts locked, smothered, inside. And he is screaming, and suddenly plummeting in the darkness below, into its very core.
When he bursts his eyes open, heart in a panic, he looks to the red about his wrist. And never will the demons take him again. His one failure is a fortunate correction that did not end in loss.
And never will the demons take him again.