That horrid acrid stench, the sight of it, the burning, the scarring, tearing cutting, burying itself deep within, this hell encompassed all within his own mind, his own torture for no reason apparent to him. Sights and horrors beyond those of told evil, beyond that of evil that can be simply comprehended. Demons and monsters dwell there but are nothing compared to what else lies there.
The echoes, screams, moans, cries, pleas, begging, and silence all within this one place, this one time, tearing at the very essence of this one. The tearing into, the cracking, the breaking the ripping from the body, all of these evil and retched things boring into this mind, this is the hell, this is the encompassment of that which must be endured. It's fled from, fleeing into nothingness, a gentle nothingness that can be appreciated in light of what it is to what it was. But soon the darkness comes, ebbing, moving, sliming its way forward, eating the light, eating the calmness and simple peace of nothingness, it's devoured.
The realm, the keeper the realm, he fights it, he wrestles and slips through it running, as it surrounds him, it slides and moves up, it grips him and pulls him down, holding his very being, he essence, beyond flesh and bone, it swallows him as he fights, like a thick oozing tar, it eats away, every second it's touched the visions from before are multiplied and displayed again, the searing pain beyond description, the eyes and brain bleed, the internals rupture and tear themselves apart from it, the skin crawls from the bone, the muscles implode from tension, the blood freezes and shatters, the fight becomes impossible as the darkness take everything, and leaves nothing. And then the voice, the wretched voice that sense shivers down the spine, and compresses the vertebrates with this shiver, and the eyes, those burning red eyes, so full of hatred the cliché is burned from your mind in sight of them, and replaced with a hell beyond that of vision. "I'm coming for you!"
He flies upright, gasping for air, as though the tar still surrounds him, covered in sweat, his eyes wide open, the bizarre blue of them heightened in this wakening, his hand moves to his forehead and he closes his eyes and inhales to calm himself.
Darminian
