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Damon
I am known as Damon Reed, The Prince Of Hell, and I've been at this for three hundred years. Every year it's the same. My father sends me all over Earth from November 26th to December 25th. He does this because The Moiari (The Fates) foretold this. They did the same for the angels, but their window is during Lent. As above so below, truly does apply here. My father's brother rules Heaven and he too has a son. We are both destined to find our queens, but that's where the similarities between us end. If our queens were in Heaven or Hell, we would have already found them. So they must be on Earth because Earth is where those not fully born of this realm end up or those that simply refuse to choose a side spend their eternity living life after life. I have wandered a few cities already and have not even turned up a decent conversation. I have also seen a multitude of light displays over my many trips to Earth. Christmas, ugh! Bah, humbug, I'm so with Ebenezer Scrooge on this one. Some of the light displays in this town are very beautiful. I have always been able to appreciate beauty in all its forms. However, I must admit this one display caught my eye for a very different reason. I take in the white-lighted reindeer dangling from a lighted tree containing what is left of Santa’s sleigh. A trail of red lights falls from the reindeer’s head and pools in freshly fallen snow. I have never seen a Christmas massacre and I doubt I ever will again. It is marvelous. I laugh because I honestly can't help myself. For once, humanity surprised me. I say out loud, “God, I'd love to meet the person behind this.” A lady wearing a dark woolen cloak with flaming red hair asked, “What would you say to the creator?” I wipe my tears of laughter as I look her in the eyes. She is very pale, with gothic makeup and soulful eyes. I sense that I can be honest with her. “Well, first,it's brilliant. It reflects the dark side of this holiday. It shows the enslavement of reindeer, the oppression of elves and the self-serving nature of one man who takes all of the credit. Also, I'm glad there isn't a cross or a baby Jesus in sight.” “Why do you think they chose not to have anything religious?” she asks. “Because there's far more to this holiday, not to mention the Christians stole it from cultures far older. They twisted it and it became what you see today. The celebration of joy for a prosperous year, the slumber of gods as winter solstice begins, bonfires, decorating with holly, mistletoe, evergreen boughs, ritual sacrifices, feasts, and gift-giving have been replaced with debt, envy, and disparity, all hidden beneath fake smiles and disingenuous cheer.” She laughs, “Well shit! Merry fucking Christmas to you!” We both laughed. I extended my hand, “I'm Damon.” “Ana,” she replies as she takes my hand and shakes it. “I'm one of the creators.” She's interesting for a halfling. I wonder if she knows that she's part demon, but anyway, she'll make for good company this trip. “How'd you like to meet the other creator? I'm due to meet her for drinks.” “Sure.” I am highly curious to discover whether Ana’s friend is human or not. People bustle around us as we talk and walk. Children whine, cry, beg, and scream for toys and candy while parents struggle to not lose their last bits of sanity. As we pass them by, we can only shake our heads and laugh. “A circus, isn't it?” she giggles. “It is.” She looks over at me for a moment, “You're not from here, are you?” “No, just passing through.” Ana sighs, “Too bad, there's a ton of mischief we could get up to.” Yeah, Ana, I can agree with that. I just met you, but I feel as if we have known each other before. I laugh, “I bet, but who'd bail us out?” “Her!” Ana exclaims as she runs up and hugs this blonde woman. I get closer and then I see her. Oh, hell!!She opened her eyes. They were unfocused, glazed with exhaustion, but a faint, triumphant smile touched her lips. "I filled it," she breathed, her voice a mere puff of air. "With creation. With life." She reached up, her fingers ghosting over my cheek. "It's… placated. For now.""You shouldn't have," I choked out, a raw ache in my chest. The relief of being whole again, even temporarily, was eclipsed by the terror of what she had risked."I told you," she countered, her voice gaining a sliver of its usual strength. "We are bound, Damon. Your fight is my fight. Your life… is my life." She leaned into me, her head resting on my shoulder. I felt the profound exhaustion radiating from her, the sheer drain of power. The hum from the triplets was almost imperceptible now.Ava knelt, her hands gently touching Misha's belly. She closed her eyes, a deep furrow appearing between her brows. When she opened them, she looked relieved, but still concerned. "They're okay. Weakened, but stable. You d
Ava knelt beside us, her face grim. Her eyes, usually so sharp, held a haunted look. "The wards are weakening. I can feel the Chronovores… they're aware of us again." She glanced at Misha, then back at me. "He's burning out, Misha. Or freezing out. Whatever this void does, it's speeding up."Misha ignored her, her gaze fixed on mine, fierce and unyielding. "No. You don't get to give up. Not now." Her fingers traced the edge of the void-wound on my shoulder, a feather-light touch that still sent shivers through me. "There has to be a way. Another way to stabilize you. We still have time.""Time is what it eats," I pointed out, a morbid humorless laugh escaping me. It sounded like static. "And it's having a feast." The world tilted. A wave of nausea, cold and profound, swept over me. The desire to simply lie down, to let the sweet, blessed nothingness take me, was almost overwhelming.Misha's jaw tightened. She looked from my fading form to her own trembling hands, then to the faint shi
A laugh, weak and raspy, died in my throat before it could form. Ava’s attempt at levity was a welcome anchor, but the void in my shoulder didn’t find it amusing. It flared with a sudden, agonizing cold that had nothing to do with the dimension’s ambient chill. It was a cold recognition. Of hunger.“Something’s coming,” I gritted out, my eyes scanning the oppressive darkness. Misha’s head snapped up, her own senses kicking in.It wasn’t a sound or a sight, not at first. It was a distortion. A patch of the void ahead of us seemed to… curdle. Space bent and warped around a point of absolute nothingness that was somehow darker than the darkness around it. Time itself seemed to stutter, my perception flickering like a dying candle.Then it unfolded. It was less a creature and more a living blind spot, a vaguely insectoid silhouette carved from the absence of light and time. It had too many limbs, each one ending in a point that seemed to fray reality.“Chronovore,” Misha whispered, the na
Ava's POVI realized with a sickening lurch that the cloaking spells, the spiritual camouflage we'd woven, were tearing. The Maw's oppressive influence, its soul-devouring energy, was shredding them like old paper. Our presence, normally veiled, now felt stark, exposed."It's too strong," I gasped, clutching my head. The pressure was immense, a physical weight on my skull. The knowledge that we were visible, naked to whatever horrors lurked in this cosmic graveyard, added another layer of icy dread.The journey seemed to last an eternity, every microsecond a brutal assault on my senses. I could feel the Maw's ancient, abyssal gaze on us, a slow, predatory awareness shifting, focusing. We were raw nerves exposed to a cosmic storm.Then, with another gut-wrenching lurch, we were deposited onto a new surface.This time, the ground beneath my feet felt softer, yielding. I stumbled, catching myself on a massive, curved surface. My vision was still swimming, but the black and white static b
Ava's POVDamon coughed, a dry, rattling sound. "Just enjoying the… scenic route." His eyes, usually sharp with sardonic wit, were unfocused, distant. "Reminds me of… well, of nothing. This is worse than nothing.""The energy," Misha breathed, her hand going instinctively to her stomach. The faint shimmer of her protective ward seemed to flicker, struggling against the pervasive negativity. "It's draining everything. My power… it feels… muffled. Like screaming into a pillow."I felt it too. My own demonic energy, usually a vibrant, rebellious hum, now felt subdued, heavy. The Maw was a vast, cosmic siphon, draining every spark of life, every hint of resistance. It was a place where existence itself was an act of defiance."This is the God-Eater's Maw," I stated, articulating the dread. "Justin said it right. It's where things go to die. Permanently." I swept my arm out, indicating the desolate panorama. "Stars, nebulae, deities. All of it.""And it lives up to the name," Damon whisper
Ava’s POV"Lead the way, Anchor," Damon ground out, his voice hoarse, but his eyes, fixed on Misha, held an unyielding defiance.I rolled my eyes, a familiar muscle memory. "Someone has to. You two are too busy making out in a cosmic graveyard." I turned, my boots scraping on the obsidian platform. The gate, a swirling maelstrom of iridescent gases, shimmered with an unsettling invitation. Beyond it, I could already feel the cold, an absence more profound than any vacuum. "Hold on tight. Justin's jump-points are less 'elegant transit' and more 'cosmic blender.'"I stepped toward the shimmering veil, not bothering to look back. Damon and Misha would follow. They always did. They were the lovebirds, the world-enders, the ones who needed me to keep their feet on the ground—or at least, pointed in the right direction. As I reached the edge, the fabric of reality stretched, groaning like ancient metal. A familiar tug, a sensation of being drawn through a keyhole too small for my frame.The







