Chapter 12:A Brothers Love
Damon stood on the stage, his face tilted skyward, a wide smile plastered across his features even as he fought back the tumult within. He snickered softly, though it lacked genuine mirth.
"Never have I felt such dread in my life."
With that, he turned his back on the crowd—Pyo, injured and vulnerable, remained behind him, but his thoughts were already racing ahead to the Void Mansion. As he strode through the streets, eyes filled with adoration followed him like shadows, yet all he felt was disgust. "Disgusting bastards!" he muttered under his breath, angered by the parade of fake smiles and hollow affection surrounding him, all motivated by personal gain. He knew the adulation was merely a flight of fancy in light of his glory, but deeper matters gnawed at his mind.
Meanwhile, chaos erupted in the Void Mansion. Madam Dora writhed in pain as she brought a new life into the world, while Gerald, her steadfast companion, held her hand tightly, his heart racing with anticipation and fear.
"There's a problem," the physician's voice injected panic into the room as he cradled the newborn, his brow furrowed in distress. "The child is not breathing."
"What do you mean she is not breathing?" Gerald's voice quaked with fury as he leapt to his feet. His expression shifted rapidly from anguish to rage. "Do everything to save my child!"
The physician remained stoic, offering a grim but diplomatic response. "We will try what we can, but it's not guaranteed." He gathered various herbs and elixirs, desperately attempting to revive the infant.
Damon's approach to the mansion was measured, albeit heavy with foreboding. The usual warmth of home was replaced by an eerie silence, palpable enough to set his nerves on edge. He could sense the sorrow before he even entered his parents' chambers.
Pausing outside the door, he took a deep breath, then pushed it open. Upon entering, he was met with the dark gravity of his father's despair, his hand pressed firmly against his temples in prayer. Gerald, a figure previously of strength and authority, now appeared shattered, as if arguing with the very fabric of the universe itself.
"Dad, it's okay," Damon ventured gently, inching closer. Gerald turned his tormented gaze upon him.
"Okay? The child is dead, and you dare tell me everything is okay? Nothing is okay!" he shouted, his grief pouring into anger.
Damon, however, remained calm, an unsettling smile blooming on his face. "Everything will be fine," he assured, moving towards his mother, who sat pale and listless against the wall. Her once vibrant spirit seemed dimmed, like a candle flickering in the wind.
"Mother, look at me," Damon urged softly. She turned her gaze reluctantly, revealing eyes brimming with sorrow.
"She will live, don't worry," he said confidently, the weight of forbidden knowledge swirling within him. Damon had long ruled as a god, tapping into the secrets of life and death.
With a determination born of desperation, he reached out and lifted the lifeless child from his mother's arms. "I shall sacrifice my own essence to bring her soul back from the void," he declared, his voice unyielding despite the stakes.
"Damon! Don't do anything reckless!" Gerald's voice broke as fear laced his words. "I can't bear the thought of losing two children today!"
But Damon's mind was made up. With a smile that masked his growing madness, he placed his palm on the infant's chest. "The Earth shall become her bones, sturdy and unyielding. Water will flow as her blood, nurturing and vital. Fire will serve as her heart—a fierce warmth igniting her spirit. The wind shall carry the breath of life into her lungs, while darkness binds her soul to both realms."
He recited the incantation as elemental energy surged from him, enveloping the child. Gerald and Dora watched in breathless amazement, witnessing the astonishing spectacle. Light spiraled in intricate patterns, bursting forth toward the heavens.
"Why isn't she crying?" Damon asked, panic swelling within him as he pressed the child's chest, willing her to fight for life.
And then, just as he felt the flicker of a fading soul, something ignited within him. "You are not going anywhere!" he roared, grasping tightly onto the essence of the child's spirit, pouring his very being into her.
"This is a gift from your big brother," he whispered tenderly, a warm smile lighting his features. In that moment, the child's heart began to beat, resonating with the elemental energy Damon supplied.
Suddenly, a wail shattered the stillness—a cry that echoed hope. Gerald and a weakened Dora rushed forward, hearts swelling with relief. Dora scooped the baby into her arms, sobbing tears of joy and disbelief, while Gerald enveloped them both in an embrace that spoke of triumph over despair.
Yet, in the maelstrom of celebration, Damon felt a different tempest brewing within. The price of his act loomed darkly on the horizon: the descent into madness. He grasped his own head, fingers pressing hard against his temple, the thrum of anguish pulsing like a violent storm.
"Madness," Damon groaned, collapsing beneath the weight of his sacrifice. All his elemental powers drained from him like a flickering flame extinguished, leaving behind a chilling void.
The physician, aghast, stuttered out in confusion, "How did he bring the child back from death?" But before further questions could be asked, Damon turned with violent intent, claiming the physician's life in a brutal instant.
"Damon!!" Gerald bellowed, but something about his son's presence shifted, a darkness unfurling in the space between them.
After the brutal act, a fleeting moment of clarity swept over Damon. "I have sacrificed my talent on her," he murmured, walking towards his parents, resting a gentle hand on the baby's face. "The descent of madness is upon me. I'm barely holding myself together."
Gerald, aghast with both grief and anger, seized Damon tightly. "I told you not to do anything reckless!" he shouted, the weight of parental responsibility crashing down upon him like a tidal wave, while Dora sat silently, feeling the burden of their plight settle heavier on her heart.
Damon reached into his storage ring, producing a pendant glimmering with strange energy. "Father, calm your anger. I will be fine," he assured, pushing his father's hand aside as he placed it around the baby's neck. A new sensation shimmered in his mind, but before he could decipher it, Damon turned away abruptly, vanishing into the shadows of night.
Gerald fell to his knees, despair washing over him like a relentless tide. "I have failed as a father," he cried, his sobs raw and honest as Dora held him tightly, tears glistening on her cheeks, caught in a whirlwind of shared grief.
In the distance, hidden in the shadows, a figure watched the chaos unfold—the being known as Rafahim. "Ha! No wonder I was sent to observe him," it cackled, its laughter echoing through the darkness. "Oh, show me what you can do, God of Madness."
As Damon fled into the forest of Raksha, he could feel his body weakening by the second, an unsettling sensation creeping along his spine. "My brain feels numb," he thought, a foreign object pressing in his mind, causing discomfort. He pressed deeper into the shadows of the woods, letting out a primal roar that pierced the night—a sound so deep and haunting it didn't seem human.
The stages of loss, rebirth, and madness spun around him like the gales of a tempest, each turn echoing the burgeoning chaos.