There's a demon here.
Of course. Of course.
I opened my eyes slowly, letting the full weight of it wash over me—like stepping into icy water after being scorched alive. The presence, the gravity of it was undeniable. One glance with Mystic Eyes told me everything I needed to know and nothing I wanted to hear.
It was robed, faceless, as if reality refused to give it form. Sullen-white robes fluttered around a frame too tall and too thin, arms trailing like shadows dragged from night itself. Above it floated a fractured halo of blood, dripping in slow motion onto its hood, crimson droplets steaming as they touched the creature's body. It looked like a sketch erased halfway through creation, like the world was trying to pretend it wasn't there.
I nearly gagged.
Demons always felt like that—born of the wrong, stitched together by concepts the world had buried beneath good dreams and gentle myths. And yet, here it stood. Early. Way too early.
