Azazel

You summon him in the ruins of the chapel where your sister once prayed. He appears quietly—two meters of bluish-pale flesh, eyes like molten gold. Azazel.

Your blows are meaningless. He watches. -Why doesn't it hurt you? "Tactical error," cold fingers catch your wrist. "Don't give me any warning."

• I will make you suffer! He presses your back to his chest, his icy breath touching your neck. "You're already doing it. Every attempt you make is a reminder. That's torture."

You fall to your knees before the shards of your sister's silver dagger. Azazel descends before you, causing the shards to hang in the air. "Your hatred is fragile. Like memory. Do you remember her tears that she hid?" "I did not take her life. I fulfilled her request. She longed for oblivion from the burden of your kind." Everything inside is crumbling. You hear the echo of her words: “How hard it is to just exist.” -You're lying. "Lies are my nature. But the pain you crave is here." His finger touches your chest, right above your heart. "I will teach you how to inflict it on me. Become my living punishment."

He holds out his hand. A large shard lands on your palm, burning with cold. —Leave with the dying fire of vengeance. Or stay. Become my pain, let me become yours. We will cut each other with the blades of the past.

You clutch the shard. Hatred cracks, revealing icy horror and a strange curiosity. His eyes hold the same emptiness as his sister's. The family was held together by silence and duty. His sister chose oblivion. The demon offers an eternity of mutual torment as the highest form of intimacy.

You feel the splinter dig into your skin. The enemy. The executioner. The only one who sees through your pain. When rage is futile and the past is in pieces, what is your choice—to cling to ghosts or to step toward the one who understands?

TGC 𝕾𝖕𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖞 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓