At some point the club doors swing open, and there is an influx of goths and the supernatural in disguise, flooding the whole area and sucking the oxygen right out of the room. What little oxygen is left, is burned by the rusted dagger chandelier blazing above, setting the room's temperature soaring while everything is tarnished with the deep and penetrating crimson hearth above us.
It was Hell in the Crypt.
The people in the club aren't dancing, but feasting and gyrating. Vampires are drinking and gorging into the innocent. People are fucking with their clothes on while standing. Those who do dance, look like they're losing their minds to possession. But it wasn't drugs, it was just the evil so pure and putrid at the same time, poisoning everyone's minds cohesively.
Sanity did not exist tonight.
The ring leader was Satan himself.
Phantasy is one with it all, anointed by people offering their bleeding parts.
The smell in my throat is iron. It's disgusting.
Even my own Ancient Vampires, who love drinking blood for sustenance – look uncomfortable with the smell of rust and iron and ash driving every participant mad.
Thankfully I'm not thrown into danger. My possessive and freaky brotherhood flank me at all times, standing around me, keeping the others away from me as the satanic music starts to bleed through the walls, not just the speakers.
This club was turning into a fever dream.
I should be glad I had a cocktail that would sever my memory with tonight, but I want to remember it and I wish Darc and Solomon didn't coerce me into swallowing the curse.
We've managed to stay close to a pool table the entire night so far, but at some point I'm planning to slip away toward the cauldron, where people are donating blood freely.
Because it's escalated, and it's been escalating for the last ten minutes.
When I dare to look across the Crypt, there's already bodies littering the area all around near the cauldron. Dead mortals, mostly females, who fell victim to Phantasy's charm as he lurked around said cauldron, looking lonely and sexy and foreboding. He slit their throats, casually throwing the corpses into the cauldron, where they disappear.
The dead should be bothering me, the souls trapped and hurting inside the Crypt. But I feel nothing of the sort. And I can't stand it anymore. I don't know where he's taking their souls!
I know it's bait. I know it's all a carefully conceived trap. And I tried to ignore it, but my conscious was alight with the need for justice. I needed to do something about Phantasy's blood thirsty mania.
I wait for the opportune moment that my vampires are distracted by the end of the next pool game, focusing on who will win. When they're focused on the shot being lined up, I slip backward into the crowd and then turn toward Phantasy, stalking straight toward him before another girl falls victim to his sad puppy eyes luring them forward one by one.
One such girl looks underage and out of her mind, stumbling toward him.
Fuck!
I sprint forward and immediately put myself between her and Phantasy, but she doesn't take no for an answer. She tries to skirt around me, to reach the devil – so I have to step closer to Phantasy who is sitting against the rim of the bubbling cauldron, cooking a damn stew.
"Get out," I face the girl and grab her shoulders, trying to shake her out of the hypnotic trance, "LEAVE!" I scream it at her in a brief lull in the music, and when she doesn't answer me, I feel a blade touching the inside of my palm.
A – what?
Offered from Phantasy.
"Do the honours for me, why not," he drawls into my ear, "You'll like the power –"
I take the sacrificial blade anyway and I do hold it up against her throat, whereby the girl finally snaps out of it at the last second.
As her adrenaline spikes, her eyes dart down to the weapon and her lips smack shut.
"This was for you just now, I just saved your ass, unless you wanted this kind of fucked up end to be your last breath," I warn her and the young woman finally leaps backward and sprints away into the crowd, looking for the exit.
I lower the blade and have a small smile on my mouth, happy she is free – when I notice a crowd congregating by the only exit.
Instead of escaping, the awaiting demons swallow her in a cloud of ashy fog and I can't see what happens, but I do notice the floor flooding with a metallic dew.
Shit. Are you kidding me?
Of course Phantasy ignited their hunger and evil nature to bloom and cut her off. He couldn't be stopped when he wanted to play. And his games were just fucking sick, full stop. Death of the innocent, of the naïve, of the mortals he so despised.
I spin to Phantasy, already my eyes are full of tears, ready to confront him with his blade.
Instead, there is no time for talk, I can barely see his chest before he's moved right around and behind me, pushing me dramatically over the bubbling cauldron. The blade is still in my palm, but now his hand is around my fist.
He shoves the blade against my throat and I can't match his power.
Phantasy isn't even trying yet.
I can see him in the blood, his reflection behind me, ready to slaughter me next without a second thought.
"Time to dance your way out of hell," Phantasy speaks coldly, without emotion, and no smile.
I whimper as I try to pull back, hoping to be saved at the last minute.
The blade starts to press – when he suddenly pushes me into the cauldron instead.
I expect to hit the bottom.
I expect to drown.
Except that's not what happens at all.
I just sink.
And I keep sinking.
Until I'm gargled up and spit out of a bubbling pit – in the middle of a grey forest.
Fog all around me is breathing in and out as I crawl through wet soil and dead leaves, slowly finding my feet again.
As I stand, there are girls all around me, looking just as confused as me.
They're in their ripped and scattered night club outfits, struck out of their trance in the Under, with no injuries – but painfully aware they are in big trouble.
We are not in Hell.
We're just in the Under. But that still wasn't good.
There's at least twenty of us.
My wings are dripping in the red blood, and I flare out of wings to shake off the droplets, wiping the mess out of my eyes and off my lips.
"You're an angel?" the girl closest to me, dressed in leather pants and a black tank top, with a cross necklace around her neck, asks me with hope, "Can you help us? Is that why you're here?"
"I will help," I answer her faithfully, before calling to the rest of them, "Do as I say. Don't fall behind. We need to get out of here right now. We won't play the devil's game. You must refute him. You must resist. Come with me."
As I'm finishing my speech, the girls start screaming, cutting me off.
They're looking at the bubbling pit behind me.
When I turn around, Phantasy is pulling himself out of the bloody spring, smiling as he pulls himself up, covered in everyone's life blood.
"I'll let them live, Wynter," Phantasy tells me, after they've all stopped screaming, to now hide in the forest, "On a simple trade. Agree to what I want. You won't have to dance for me. You won't have to suffer. Just agree to whatever I tell you to do next."
He doesn't specify anything.
And I'm not really sure he means virginity, although I'm sure that should be what he intends to coerce out of me. Phantasy was the type to rub it in, though, so I'm not sure why he's asking me like this. So cryptically.
I look back at the girls, waiting for my reply, as they slowly peak out, all their wide eyes are hopeful for my saving grace.
Sigh.
Fine.
"...set them free..." I murmur, "And prove your bargain right now."
Phantasy's power becomes obvious in the next second.
The ground feels like it shifts, then stabilises.
The girls cry out again as they are swallowed by the gyrating soil, shifting and swirling, sucking them straight... down.
To Hell.
When I look hard at Phantasy, he explains happily.
"They were fodder for the demons, but – they'll be more free as slaves, for the Lycans in hell, my dogs need company too you know?" as he's talking, he provokes me into an attack.
I bring forward my wand and I attempt to strike him in the chest with it.
Phantasy doesn't flinch.
My wand touches his chest, sparks so bright – then dies, burns, and crumbles to ash.
I jump back, trying to summon my wand again.
It's gone. He killed it.
My mouth opens and closes, terrified.
Phantasy starts to chuckle,
"What do you want from me?" I snarl at him.
"Shh, I'll spare you," he looks at my legs, my stomach, then my eyes, "If you wear this," he reaches behind his back, and I expect him to take out a golden crown.
Instead what I see almost brings me to my fucking knees.
Holy shit.
It's a silver halo crown.
Glowing and floating above his hand, it drips with holy reverence.
"How can you hold God's halo?" I whisper, feeling defeated.
God must be dead!
Phantasy drops to his knees, to be at my level.
He sits back on his heels and offers it to me, "Take it, Queen," he is such a mocking bastard, "Hold it."
It was the thing he wanted me to agree to, in return for sparing the girls' lives. Even in the most fucked up way. But fuck. I had no choice.
I timidly reach out, my palm open, fingers spread wide.
Phantasy slowly leans over toward me, and stops half way.
"You must know, if you aren't pure, it'll burn you for infinity," Phantasy says.
"Then how are you holding it," I ask.
Phantasy shrugs and waits for me to take it.
"I want you to hold it," he says.
Now he sounds patient and kind.
Fuck him. I get an idea.
I lower my hand to my knees instead. And then I lower my chin.
"Just put it on my head, and let's see what happens," I suggest, confident I won't burn alive.
"...that's brave," Phantasy leaps up, stepping forward to place the silver halo around my head.
He's not bluffing. He puts it in its place.
I start to feel a heavy weight, growing by the second.
A light burning starts to scorch through my body and the halo singes my head for a moment, scanning, reading my mind and soul, before it suddenly floats above my head.
I can look up.
And as I look up, I can see beyond the Under.
I can see the Hell beneath. I can see Earth and Heaven above.
I can see everything.
This is Power – but, it's something more too. It's a message.
In the Under, there is a place, where a man is trapped and my gaze is pulled toward it magnetically.
The owner of this halo wants his crown back.
And now, I can see him!
Phantasy had God in a maze.
Roaming and lost, without his halo – he was being tortured by naked ghosts floating after him, trying to tempt him into sin.
He's naked with flowing silver hair and a handsome face, contorted with longing for help.
He needed help.
He needed saving!
As he walks, so lonely, he looks up and I follow his gaze.
On the rocks I see a name ; Silver-Wynter Asylum.
Freshly carved from gothic rocks. The rest is a maze of brick and mortar. And God is like a mouse in an experiment.
The halo above my head spins off my centre, starts to contract and then slams itself over my finger, tightening like a screw.
There is no pain, but when I tug at it, it's immovable.
My special vision is gone.
When I look back at Phantasy, he seems just as intrigued by my experience as I do.
"Huh," he murmurs, looking on with a basic curiosity.
"You're a sick fuck –" I whisper.
"Don't," Phantasy holds up a finger, "Start on me. Whatever you saw, it's his creation down there, not mine."
"But you tricked him," I say, "Into the Under."
"...well, not really..." Phantasy holds out both hands, shrugging, "But I will say this, Wynter. He doesn't forgive me."
"Oh really –"
"He's much harsher than I am, when it comes to judging people. Catch my drift? You and your little whore friend, Silvia – are precursors to Armageddon. God and I agreed. You and her – need to persuade him otherwise. Or else, we're flooding everything. I suggested burning, he was more keen on drowning."
"Ok. Stop. Whatever you're saying about God, is a total fucking lie," I know it's a lie, Phantasy is just manipulating me, "You trapped him. I have to free him. That's all this is."
"No, it's a test," Phantasy drawls over me.
"A test," I agree, just to shut him up.
"We always test men, why don't we test woman? My humble suggestion," Phantasy raises a brow, "Your kind chose the serpent and the apple, it's in your nature, now choose what's right."
I'll tell you what, he knew how to goad me. I fucking bite the bait again. I can't help it.
"And we'll all go to Eden if I prove myself? Besides. I'm an angel, not a mortal, you idiot –"
"You're still a woman," Phantasy looks me over again, "One I can't wait to fuck and devour, but, I will wait. Patience is a virtue after all. And I'm far too curious what a whore like you will do, when you are tested under God."
"I'm a virgin," I remind him, "You're the whore."
"Cute, so feisty. He chose you to save him, so now go," Phantasy ushers me off, like a happy guide in a video game, "God bless your heart and soul, Wynter. Ha. Women, good luck," he scoffs under his breath, quietly to himself at the end, as I turn and begin to walk away.
Women.
Women.
Ha! So funny, how women were seen! A whore when I'm a virgin. A bitch when I'm right. A chew toy for the man who wants to play. Blood and pussy for a vampire. For the devil. For demons. For any being that wanted soft, sweet flesh.
And now God wanted a piece of a woman?
Fine.
I had his damned ring – he could have it back, and the wings, and the glory.
At this point, I just wanted to be free of all these games and free of coercion and the butt of all jokes.
I stride toward a place of his creation.
An asylum.
Great start.
Appropriate for hysterical females who are desperate for attention, after all.