summary: his soul was screaming. his soul tried to warn him. he should have listened.
cw: burning at the stake, description of thoroughly burnt body, hurt no comfort, character death
a/n: aaand she's done, folks! was a fun idea to write but also very painful. 🥹 i hope you all enjoy and happy angst reading! also pls forgive any mistakes or typos, i did a rough proof read. 🙏🏾
He should have listened to his soul when it screamed.
That day when it screamed louder than it ever had before. Its voice jagged like broken glass, piercing his skin and bleeding him dry. It was terrified. It was horrifyingly pained. It was unlike anything he had felt before.
He should have listened.
You were in a field of flowers, kneeling among tha tall grass as your fingers pluck stems. Your basket was at your side, steadily filling up with daises and weeds you claimed aided in healing certain illnesses. The sun was high in the sky, beaming warmth onto your dirt-streaked skin. It shined brightly, brilliant in its element, but your smile rivaled that brilliance and won.
Sylus watched you from a few feet away, hiding under his parasol's shelter. His eyes were keen as they followed your every movement, sharpening when they saw you struggle with a particular root. Before he could blink, he was kneeling beside you, parasol forgotten, as his fingers curled around yours to help you pull. His skin tingled at the contact of yours, his blood singing at the endorphins that rush through his veins.
You aimed a grateful smile his way before your mouth shaped into a soft o. He wondered why the sudden panic before remembering that he was under direct sunlight and his skin was starting to sizzle.
Ah.
"Sylus!" You exclaimed, quickly reaching for his parasol and holding it over his head for him to take. "You shouldn't be so careless when you're out in the sun. If you turned to dust, imagine how I'd feel."
"Sad, I'd hope," Sylus replied easily, smirking at you rolling your eyes. It was an all too familiar sight and he adored it. "Wouldn't you be upset? Losing your best friend to Mother Nature's cruel weather?"
"I'd be upset about your dust being all over these flowers," you quipped but the mischievous light in your eyes tells a hidden truth. "They'd become useless because no one would want a healing potion mixed with the ashes of an Archfiend."
"You'd be surprised how in demand that would be," Sylus said matter-of-factly, enjoying your heavy sigh far more than he should. He reached for your basket the moment you go to stand, evading your grabbing hands as he raised to his feet. "It'd make you a pretty penny. I'm a very powerful creature, kitten, and even an ounce of my ashes would do wonders for the likes of mortals."
"Of course, of course," you replied, brushing soil and blades of grass off your skirts. "But the last thing I need is mortals running around with powers they can't control." You began to walk out of the field, Sylus following closely. "Also, let's not talk about you dying. It's a horribly morbid topic."
Sylus' lips twitched into a slight smile, eyes softening as he watched you walk in front of him.
"So the thought of me dying does sadden you," he teased but was hopeful when he noted the uptick in your heartbeat. How your blood pumped through your veins a bit too quickly.
"You're annoying." Is all you said but he could hear your smile and that was more than enough for him.
A few minutes of silence passed as you both continued the walk back to town. Every once in a while, you'd kick a rock to see how far it would go and hum something quiet under your breath. Your mind was far away, Sylus could tell from how your thumb rubbed at your knuckles and your muscles subtly tensed. Your stride would slow for a second before picking up and it occured for a moment or two until you came to a stop.
Sylus halted a few feet behind you, patiently awaiting for you to speak. It felt heavy, the air stiff despite being out in the open. He didn't know why but his soul trembled, as if alarming him of a terrible misfortune.
"You've lived for a long time, haven't you?" You asked suddenly and the question immediately unsettled him. "Goodness, you must have been alive since the beginning of time."
"A little after that," Sylus said and smiled when it got the chuckle from you he hoped for. "But yes, sweetie, I've been alive for a long time and will, probably, be alive longer still." He took a small step forward, slowly closing the space between you two. "Why the question?"
"No reason," you assured him, turning around to offer him a smile that didn't quite meet your eyes. "I'm just thinking about a few things and contemplating others." You went silent again and Sylus saw how you fell deep into your thoughts. Thoughts he wasn't allowed to have access to because you sealed them tightly behind too high walls. "Just...it must get lonely, doesn't it? Having to live for so long and witness your friends die."
There was a stabbing pain in his soul and it began to bleed. It hurt, an abnormal sensation he rarely ever felt. But he ignored it, shoved it to the side because that didn't matter.
You did.
"Creatures like us don't make friends," Sylus said with something akin to a wistful smile. "To harbour fondness for a being who's only alive for a tiny fraction of my eternity is cruel, wouldn't you think?"
You hummed softly, your gaze lowering to the dirt footpath. "So...we're not friends?" You ask tentatively. "You won't miss me when I die?"
Stabbing pain.
His soul screamed.
He ignored it, the call of his heart louder than the pained cries. With a few long strides, he was before you, causing your head to tilt back so you could meet his gaze. A deep secret was hidden in your features, possibly resting on your tongue but you refused to let it free. It felt...urgent, but you looked calm in the mid-afternoon sun, the slight breeze ruffling your skirts.
You looked at ease, as if you had come to terms with a decision.
A final one.
"We're more than friends," Sylus said after a moment of silence. "We're soulmates." The heavy words passed through his lips as if they had been waiting to be freed. They spilled out into the warm air and widened your eyes when they graced your ears. You looked thoroughly shocked, like that was the last thing you expected him to say.
"I'd miss my soulmate," he added, whispered like a binding promise. Maybe it was a trick of the sun's light but he swore he could see your eyes start to gleam.
You were quick, though, not giving him any time to fully see as you turned away. The world stood still for a mere second and Sylus wanted to give into the immense pull to comfort you. To crowd you into his arms and murmur soft assurances into your hair.
He wanted to assure you that everything would be okay.
But before he could give into the temptation, you turned around once more with a smile so gentle it devastated him.
"Join me for dinner tonight, will you?" You asked. "You're leaving early tomorrow and I won't see you again for a few weeks."
I won't see you again.
Those five words stood out.
His soul screamed again.
He didn't understand why.
But instead of figuring the answer, he merely smiled and nodded.
"I would be delighted."
He should have listened.
He should have listened.
His travels took him away for two weeks and throughout his journey, his soul cried. Mephisto worked hard, flying away every two nights to check in on you. The third time, Mephisto came back with a letter neatly tied to his ankle and Sylus laughed fondly when he read it.
Stop sending that damn bird to spy on me.
I'm fine.
That halted the visits but something in Sylus didn't sit right. His soul never stopped crying, never stopped hurting. It bleed day in and day out, weakening him to a point where it stunned him. He didn't know why or how to make it stop but the source...he knew the source.
Two weeks was enough time to be away, his skin itching to be close to you again. Seeing you would calm down this pain. Would, hopefully, vanquish these anxieties that plagued his mind and left him unable to rest. It would take him a day to get back to your town; his wings would make it so.
He would see you again soon.
It was only a matter of time.
"Do me a favour," you ask, dishing out a hearty stew filled with meat and vegetables in the warm glow of your small kitchen. It smelled delicious and homey, the definition of what you were to him.
"That depends," Sylus replied, just for the sake of being difficulted, seated at the tiny dining table. "What is the favour and is it something I can do?"
Your eye roll would forever be a favourite sight of his. "I'm pretty sure you can," you grumbled but you were smiling, a tiny thing. "Just..." You settled your ladle down, leaning it against the lip of the pot. "Don't hurt the humans, okay? They don't know any better."
Sylus blinked. "Why would I need to hurt them?" He asked. "They haven't done anything to me."
Your tiny smile twisted into something sad, unrecognisable.
"Can you just...do that for me?" You asked quietly. "Please?"
Pained soul.
Screaming soul.
It hurt.
But Sylus, wanting to chase your sadness away, nodded. Despite everything in him wanting to refuse.
"Okay. I'll do that for you."
You let free a soft sigh of relief, your gaze grateful.
"Thank you."
Your relief settled him, but not completely.
He didn't know why he said he wouldn't hurt them.
He didn't know why it felt like a giant mistake.
The town is far too quiet when he returns.
The markets are empty, void of today's sales, and the houses are lacking any form of life. There's no loud chattering from bustling crowds or hawkers trying to lure you in to see their wares.
It's just quiet.
Eerily quiet, like all the townsfolk disappeared overnight.
His first thought is to look for you, to hurry over to your small home and see if you're okay. He hasn't heard from you since you told him to stop sending Mephisto. Even then, something didn't feel right. Something felt off, overwhelmingly strange.
Heaviness finds its home in the pit of his stomach and his soul...the pain stabs him harshly. Harsh enough that his knees threaten to buckle as blinding heat seizes his senses. It renders him breathless and crawling for air. It has him gasping, vision darkening and then...a loud scream.
Ragged and raw.
He can barely take a step towards your home when he suddenly hears it.
Ear-piercing cheers coming from the town square and the echos of vicious words falling the mouth of the Church's priest.
"The devil walked among us. Hiding in plain sight and pretending to care for us."
Sylus' feet drag him towards the noise. They pull him towards the crowd that gathers around the crackle of roaring flames. His nose picks up the scent of scorched flesh, of dried up lungs and a charcoal heart. One that no longer beats. One that no longer loves.
"She fed us potions in disguise of medicine. She spoke tongues which we believed to be prayers. She tried to poison our town so she could use us for her sacrifices. But God revealed her to us before her evil plans could take place. He allowed us to capture her before she could truly kill."
He sees the naive people raise their arms in elation. Sees how some clasp their hands together in prayer as they thank a false prophet who spews lies. He sees the priest standing before them, his words sharp razors in Sylus' ears and hell fire on his skin. He sees the piles of wood that burn brilliantly with their red and orange flames, devouring whatever they get as their last meal.
He sees the stake.
He sees—
Scorched flesh.
Burnt to a crisp.
Unrecognisable.
Dead.
He wants to deny it's you.
He's trying so hard to find reasons as to why it's not you. It's impossible to tell who it is because the fire has consumed almost everything. All identifying factors turned to dust with nothing left to salvage.
But the pain in his heart doesn't lie.
The pain in his soul tells him the truth.
The town had just murdered you in cold blood.
They had taken you from him.
You're gone.
His very soul splits apart in pure agony, rage boiling his blood until it turns to steam. His fangs elongate and his teeth sharpen, ready to sink into unsuspecting flesh. He raises above the crowd and towers over them, his wings spread wide across the darkening sky as he transforms into something hideously terrifying.
The people turn and scream in horror, taking in a being that shows power but holds no mercy. The priest tries to say a prayer, holds out his crucifix in a vain, useless attempt to banish him back to the fiery pits he came from. But it does not work; Sylus is still here but he is no longer Sylus.
Sylus was meant for you and only you.
These pathetic, disgusting specks of nothing do not deserve Sylus.
Don't hurt the humans, okay?
They don't know any better.
But they do; they did know better.
A mournful tear slides rolls down Sylus' cheek before he's descending upon them.
They did know better.
He cremates what remains of you and, funnily enough, says a prayer. It's nothing close to how it should be but he prays that you're at peace wherever your spirit is. He prays that you'll, one day, find your way to him again.
Your ashes are stored in a beautifully crafted vase that stays close to him. He debates about where to scatter them before remembering the field of flowers. You'd love to spend the rest of forever there, nurturing the flowers and soil with your precious energy. But he'll allow himself to be selfish and keep a tiny piece of you close. In a tiny vial that hangs around his neck so he can feel you still.
The town no longer exists.
All are dead and the buildings burned to the ground. What remains are ashes and debris, mourning ghosts that wander in search of where to go. No one will come to save them. No one will come to grant them peace. Forever they will stay trapped in a purgatory that may very well be hell itself.
Your home is still the same; touched by the last of your presence and preserved in time. He takes a while to bask in your residual warmth, closing his eyes as he sits at your too small dining table and imagines.
Imagines you bustling around the kitchen. You coming in through the front door with your basket filled with plants and herbs. You rolling your eyes at him, exasperated but quietly amused.
You smiling at him, soft and beautiful and whole and alive—
Sylus doesn't know when he started crying, tears rapidly rolling down his cheeks and dropping off his chin.
I do enjoy it when a game is clearly trying to use a wildly inappropriate pre-built game engine for what it wants to do, but I don't see why RPG Maker should have all the fun. Do grid-based tactical combat in Inform. Write a rhythm game in Twine. Implement that precision puzzle platformer in Ren'Py. You know you want to.
I haven't bumped into that exact combination before, but I have separately encountered both a roguelike made of Microsoft Excel macros and a metroidvania built inside a sudoku web app.
im noticing that for a lot of americans “free palestine” has been an ideological motto and symbol rather than them actually believing in their heart that freedom is attainable and necessary
palestinians deserve the right to be able to travel freely in our homeland. to even visit our homeland. for us to have citizenship and rights to our own country. to grow our plants. practice our religions. live without fear that our children can be kidnapped by israeli forces on their violent whims. to not have our life savings poured into building a home for our families that are torn down without real warning by israeli bulldozers. to no longer be refugees. like this is real life. this is real.
we don’t want to be reduced to a never ending slogan. we want to put down our need for resistance. to rest & to live.
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