His eyes shot open, panic and fear swirling within them. The suffocating blanket of darkness laid heavily on him, seeming to crush the air from his lungs as it amplified the emotions growing within. His gasps for air echoed through the silence, their sharpness scratching against the veil over him but never breaching. His right eye misses the light it has not seen in hours, while his left eye yearns for the light it has not seen in months; his brain yearns for knowledge, for explanation, for reasoning, while his heart yearns for something foreign to him, something he lost before his left eye went dark - if he ever had this foreign sensation to begin with. He cannot be certain.
"Murderer, murderer, murderer," his mind had screamed, yelled, cried. It never truly quieted, never silenced, never let him forget, not since that day. He had not seen his own flesh and blood drown, but as far as his reason let him think, he may as well have held his other half's head below the surface while the older equal struggled for breath. This thought was ridiculous, of course - he was the weaker of the two. However, this brought to mind the image of him having a demon creature, the very offspring of lightning and death, holding down the one of his closest blood under the surface.
But, the thought fades far quicker than it normally would.
He attempts to shift, to roll over, but he quickly finds these efforts exhausting, painful, and futile. His muscles refuse to cooperate, silently screeching in burning exhaustion and searing pain. His groan falls upon the walls' deaf ears as his back shifts against the hard bed - was it even a bed? - below him, angering the tense nerves as jagged shapes pushed sharply into his soft flesh. Perhaps he should invest in a new, more protective tunic if he ever escaped the night's sharp, bloody, fatal claws.
A loud huff breaks his thoughts. It came from nearby and sounded far from human. Perhaps demons have been waiting in the darkness for him after all. In the distance, he hears yells and screams. He tries to turn his head towards the sound, but it hurts. It hurts so much. He can only pray to the demons around him that no one finds him in this condition, for the Gods have undoubtedly long since forsaken him for his horrid crimes. He opens his mouth, preparing to say his final pleas, when the claws of darkness dig into the flesh of his side, flipping him over. A cry of pain reaches his ears, but he cannot tell where it came from.
As the claws of darkness proceed to tear apart his back, the fangs of the night bite into his consciousness, their wounds fatal. The world goes dark, becoming blissful nothingness.