If only....

"Mael... What... Have you done?"

Patter-patter 

Pitter-Patter 

Drip-Drop 

The voice was shattered, rasping through the oppressive stillness of the narrow alleyway. The relentless rain had faded into a ghostly drizzle, leaving behind a rhythmic, haunting echo as water dripped from sagging rooftops onto the cobblestone. The night air hung heavy with a chilling cold, wrapping around the desolation like a shroud, punctuated only by the occasional drip-drop of water falling into grim puddles.

In the heart of this forsaken place knelt a young girl, barely past her teenage years. Her blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears, fixated on the horror unfolding before her—a nightmarish tableau that clawed at her sanity. The rain had drenched her clothes, her long black hair clinging to her skin, an extension of her despair as it plastered against her face and back. Her lips trembled, a frantic quiver as they traced over the bodies sprawled around her, lifeless and soaking in grotesque pools of their own blood.

It was a massacre.

The alley had transformed into a graveyard. Corpses strewn about in grotesque positions, their lives extinguished in violent, brutal fashion. Yet the blood and broken bodies were not the depths of her horror. No, the true terror lurked beyond the carnage, where a boy—barely seventeen—stood motionless.

His name was Samael.

His raven-black hair danced in the faint breeze that slithered through the alley, his expression an unsettling mask of calm as he stared down at the lifeless form of another boy clutched in his grip. The boy was a mangled mess, unrecognizable—a canvas of destruction. His nose twisted at an unnatural angle, his lips swollen and torn, blood trickling down his chin in thick rivulets. His face had become a horrific tapestry of violence and despair, flaxen hair matted with the crimson of his wounds. The body, once full of life, now hung limply like a discarded puppet, swaying slightly as Mael's iron grip finally slackened.

Thud.

The body thudded against the cobblestones with a sickening finality, lifeless and still. Mael turned to her, his blue cold and hollow. His gaze locked onto Selene, his expression inscrutable as he wiped his bloodied hands on his drenched shirt, treating the violence he had just unleashed as a mere inconvenience.

"Why... do you look so sad?" he asked, his voice soft, laced with an eerie confusion. He tilted his head, regarding her as if the tears streaming down her cheeks were a foreign concept, devoid of understanding. His tone held no empathy, and his eyes reflected an emptiness that was always there.

Selene choked back a sob, the weight of despair suffocating her. "Can't you see what you've done?!" she cried, her voice trembling as the reality crashed down upon her like a tidal wave. Her hands shook, knees weak as she fought to steady herself against the overwhelming sorrow.

She blamed herself for this. If only she hadn't been so impulsive. If only her jealousy hadn't consumed her when she saw another girl getting close to him. If only she hadn't acted out of desperation. Perhaps none of this would have happened. Mael wouldn't have lost himself like this. He wouldn't have gone so far to 'protect' her.

"But..." Mael's voice remained soft, a shadow of confusion flickering across his face as he took a step toward her. "They tried to hurt you. Isn't it logical that I hurt them back?"

His words were chilling, stripped of any understanding. To him, this massacre was justified—a twisted act of protection. But Selene understood the true horror. She could see the blood staining his hands, the weight of lives extinguished in his wake. And she knew, with a sickening certainty, that Mael would never escape the chains of his actions. He was shackled not only by the blood he had spilled but by the inevitable retribution that loomed on the horizon.

"I'm so sorry, Mael..." Selene whispered, her voice a fragile thread, barely audible over the sound of the rain. She staggered toward him, legs weak as she stumbled over the bodies littering the alley. Desperate, she reached for him, yearning to touch him, to hold him, as if her embrace could somehow erase the horror that had unfolded.

Unlike Mael, who seemed to have severed his emotions entirely, Selene grasped the gravity of the situation. She understood that taking a life—multiple lives—was an irreversible act. The law would come for him, seeking justice for the blood he had spilled. The thought tore her apart, a gaping wound in her heart. She couldn't bear to lose him—not like this.

"What do you mean?" Mael frowned, his confusion deepening as she finally grasped his hands, a lifeline amidst the chaos. "Weren't they... trying to violate you?"

"No... No, they weren't. I... I lied, Mael. I was jealous. I was... desperate. I just wanted you to notice me."

Mael stared at her, his brow furrowing as if she had spoken a language he could not comprehend. "But... I did this for you."

The weight of her guilt was suffocating. She had manipulated him, pushed him to this brink, and now it was too late. She couldn't take back her words, couldn't unwrite the script of their tragic play. All she could do was shield him from the consequences of her own reckless actions.

"I'm so sorry..." she repeated, her voice breaking as she reached into her pocket, fingers trembling as she pulled out a small vial. Before Mael could react, she plunged the syringe into his arm.

"Huh?" Mael blinked, confusion clouding his features as he glanced down at the syringe piercing his flesh. "Selene... what are you...?"

But the question fell silent as his body swayed, his vision blurring under the sedative's influence. He crumpled into her arms, eyelids drooping, oblivion claiming him.

The last sensation was her hand brushing his cheek, her voice a soothing balm against the encroaching darkness. "I will always love you, Mael... even if you never will."

As the abyss swallowed him whole, something stirred within—a foreign, clawing sensation that he could only identify as pain.

---

The darkness was an endless void.

There was no light, no sound, only an oppressive emptiness that devoured everything whole. It was a realm beyond time, beyond reality, where existence ceased and memories faded to nothing.

In that bleakness, a scene began to unfold.

A boy stood alone, his hair as white as fresh snow, amethyst eyes vacant and hollow. He was frozen in place, paralyzed, unable to escape as the nightmare unfurled around him.

Before him loomed an abomination. Its true form was a nightmarish mass of writhing appendages, reshaping itself in a horrific dance of chaos. Its presence was suffocating, malevolent; it radiated despair that clung to the boy like a dark shroud. Countless tendrils reached out, ensnaring his arms and legs, fastening him in place as though he were nothing more than a puppet in the creature's grotesque game.

The boy, once full of life and spirit, now stared blankly at the impending doom. The creature's gaping maw opened wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth forming a vortex leading to a place far beyond comprehension.

It was going to devour him.

And he… was powerless to stop it.

Fwoosh!

Suddenly, the darkness shattered as a brilliant light erupted, the very fabric of the cave trembling in response. A figure emerged from the shadows, its presence commanding, an entity of unfathomable power and authority.

"Stay your hands away from my prey, you foul creature!"

The voice sliced through the darkness like a blade, sharp and filled with venom. In an instant, the abomination was torn asunder, reduced to a grotesque mass of flesh and despair, the remnants scattering like ashes in the wind.

"Finally," the figure sneered.