Blossoms of the Dark

CLXXIV Selene: Hell

Trigger Warning:

- blood

- gore

- slapping

- burning alive

- prejudicious persecution

- sexual propositions

- sexual assault

- migraines

- hallucinations

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I'm still reeling in shock.

That combination of crimson and white short hair.

Those grey and turquoise eyes.

The red scar.

That blue hero costume.

I would recognize him anywhere. Shouto knows the truth. He is here to rightly punish me for my sins. No arrest, no court trial. Justice will be served here and now. And I am powerless to stop him. He won't give me the chance to explain, even when I know nothing will excuse the things I have done. Still. A tear slips down my cheek. "Please ... Listen to what I have to say. Then do as you wish."

"Oh, I will do as I wish," he says.

My eyes widen in horror as Shouto bleeds from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. His flesh peels off in strips, piling at his feet. The tendons rupture so the muscles curl back and tear away. All that is left is a skeleton. But even that is not spared. It begans to char and burn. The tang of blood and ash permeate my nostrils. I want to vomit, but I cannot. I want to scream, but I cannot. I want to look away, but I cannot. I want to help him, but I cannot. The sight is more gruesome than anything I have seen. This vision will haunt me for the rest of my life. So, I settle for crying. The headache makes it easier to do that.

"Oh, this is interesting and ironic. A prodigal hero is the one closest to your heart," a different voice speaks.

I open my eyes and look at the source of the voice. In the place where Shouto was standing is a woman. There is no pile of flesh or muscle. There is no blood or ash. It's as though the nightmare I saw never existed. Instead, there is a lovely woman radiates life and longevity in spite of her middle age. I do not know what color her hair is; it is covered with an elaborate headdress. I cannot discern the hue of her eyes; a veil covers her face. No scar is detectable, and no hints of blue are on her persona. She wears an extravagant gown of a priestess.

But everything starts to make sense. Earlier, I was in agreement that the Liberation Army had devotees instead of soldiers. Herein lies the proof. I will be made an example of via mimicry of religious persecution. So the Army finally found out who I was ... They likely know of my elemental abilities. Hence, the physical restraints. Little do they know I have measures in place for this.

I glower at the false priestess. How dare she torment me like that? And is that my cane she is holding? It is. Silver I have seen, touched, and cherished for years is in her grasp. My pride is in her hands. The headache aches so much now. Sheer rage is the only thing keeping me conscious.

The crowd grows more frantic.

She opens her mouth once more, addressing me. "Lucifer Morningstar is your villainous name, is it not? What are you doing on earth? You should be back in hell where you belong."

I reply, "Hell is empty and all the devils are here. Come with me to hell, so we can repopulate it again."

The stinging from the slap resounds in my ears. I can taste blood on my tongue and feel swelling in my cheek. But it is nothing in comparison to my growing migraine. My mask comes flying off. It lands in the hands of one of the spectators, who snaps it in half and tramples it under their feet. His friends join in the act. "Insolent devil! This is why you were banished!" she shrieks.