Ever since that day when I fell asleep and saw Asmodeus in my dream... again... I decided I wouldn’t sleep at all for the remainder of this journey.
Now let tell you, it hadn’t been easy.
Because, of course, traversing a hellish jungle infested with nightmarish monsters — where you had to fight for your life on a regular basis — wasn’t exactly ideal when you were sleep-deprived.
But even so, it really hadn’t been easy.
So after a while, I developed a solution.
You see, people primarily dream during the REM phase of the sleep cycle, which you enter roughly ninety minutes after you fall asleep.
That ant that if I woke myself up before reaching REM sleep, I wouldn’t dream. Yes, it was a risky gamble the first ti I tried it, but it paid off.
I started taking a series of power naps in place of a full night’s sleep and, after that second and last encounter, I never saw Asmodeus again.
Slowly, it beca routine.
Sit down. Close my eyes. Count breaths. Let my heartbeat slow. Feel my mind loosen. Then wake up.
Sure, my body hated for it. I still wasn’t getting proper rest. I was constantly tired, and my thoughts were growing sluggish from the sustained abuse.
But hatred was preferable to seeing him.
The Whisperer of Desires.
The Prince of Temptations.
The Most Profane One.
...And now, I had willingly decided to et him after all that effort to avoid him.
What an irony.
I had to admit, it felt good to finally let go and fall asleep completely. I thought I’d be anxious, but I suppose my body was far more exhausted than my mind was cautious.
The mont I stopped fighting it, sleep swallowed whole. It felt so nice that I almost forgot why I had been avoiding it in the first place. Almost.
Then I woke up inside a dream, and rembered exactly why.
•••
The scenery was almost the sa as I rembered from the last ti I had been here.
The sky was red. Not the red of dusk or dawn, but sothing deeper and darker, like a black canvas painted over with blood.
The heavens above were fractured, as if soone had hurled a stone at a mirror. Shattered fragnts of reality hung suspended in the stratosphere, frozen mid-collapse.
At the center of it all lood a red moon, bleeding rivers of crimson light that cascaded down into a silver lake as vast as a sea that appeared to have been made from sothing resembling rcury.
Dozens of gigantic hands erupted from that lake’s still surface. Each was pale as bone and taller than the highest towers, each reaching toward the bleeding red moon.
But none of them were able to touch it.
...And amid this nightmarish, almost beautiful landscape, soone was singing.
"I reach for you in every night,
Your delightful face, my only light.
Bleeding sky, yet burning bright,
You’re the fire in my soul~"
The voice was beautiful — achingly so. Rich and deep and soaked in mourning, it cracked on certain notes, not from age, but from grief.
I knew this voice.
I rembered this voice.
And yet, it still made my chest tighten, just like it had back when I didn’t know who it belonged to.
"If rcy was your only cri,
I’d sin with you a thousand tis.
I’d break the heavens, steal their chis,
Just to make you whole~"
Gods.
Once again, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life soone had to live to sing like that.
I could almost feel the pain he’d have to endure, the unfairness he must’ve been faced with, the brutality he would’ve been helpless against...
It pained my heart.
It hurt to listen to.
Unfortunately — or perhaps fortunately — my imrsion was broken when that sa voice suddenly spoke from behind . This ti, it carried none of the sorrow and all of the sass.
"Oh, look!" it chid. "Who’s here to see after dining and dashing from our last date!"
I physically shuddered before snapping around.
The mont I did, the scenery shifted.
Now I found myself standing at the edge of a tall mountain cliff, overlooking a view most hikers would sell their souls to glimpse even once.
The red sky was gone.
In its place stretched a boundless firmant of indigo and gold, clouds drifting lazily beneath the cliff under my feet like an ocean turned upside down.
Far below, mountain ranges overlapped in fading hues of green and brown.
And leaning casually against a weathered stone outcrop, as if all this was nothing more than a scenic overlook on a leisurely stroll, stood him.
Asmodeus.
He was in his male human form, looking nothing like how one would imagine a Demon Prince to look like.
He had no horns or wings or any other grotesque exaggerations ant to inspire fear at a glance.
He wore a simple loose black shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and dark trousers that fluttered slightly in the high-altitude wind.
His hair fell past his shoulders in lazy waves, a deep obsidian in shade that caught hints of violet when the light struck it just right.
His skin was pale, but not sickly — smooth, almost luminous, like marble reflecting moonlight.
When he noticed staring, he grinned, his crimson eyes crinkling with amusent.
"Wow," he said, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Not even a hello? I sing my heart out for you and this is the reception I get?"
Damn this asshole.
Asmodeus stepped closer and gestured with an open palm. "Tea?"
I frowned and followed the direction of his hand... only to realize I was already sitting in a chair beside a small coffee table.
Another déjà vu, I guessed.
The chair creaked a little as my weight shifted on it like it had always been there, patiently waiting for to notice it.
Two porcelain cups stead atop the table, filling the air with the scent of sothing floral and herbaceous. Chamomile, maybe.
I shot him a glare. "I don’t rember agreeing to this. Just like I didn’t last ti."
Asmodeus took the seat opposite with theatrical grace, crossing one leg over the other.
He lifted his cup, inhaled deeply, and let his eyes flutter shut as if savoring the mont rather than the drink. "It’s fine~! Consent is such a complicated concept where dreams are concerned."
"Please stop with your philosophical bullshit," I groaned, rubbing my temples. "You’re not good at it."
He looked delighted by that.
I took a few monts to steady myself, then let out a long sigh.
"So," I continued, eting his gaze, "the bleeding moon above Noctveil Wilds... that’s your daughter, right?"
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