Purgatorial

Cam's POV

Bleeding in the brain was a bitch.

When I finally came around to opening my eyes they felt extremely sensitive. Same with my hearing. An awful pressure in my head made me roll over, arching off the floor. My hands shot for my eyes—wiping them. Pulling them away, I saw they were coated in blood.

Yikes.

I could feel my head healing from the badass meet-and-greet with the floor. If there was ever someone I wanted killed dead—it was Cain. Turning over again, I forced myself onto my knees drawing a sharp breath. The room was spinning, my vision was dotted black—fuck. I lurched forward fighting against puking.

Okay, Leale, deep breaths.

It took a small miracle to get off my ass without falling over. The room was quiet—my eardrums were so sensitive the two heartbeats in the room thumped loudly, overshadowing everything else. I clawed at my Power, putting a lid on it so it didn't feel like my brain was about to burst. Unsurprisingly I ended up falling next to her—Nina.

"Little bird," I choked out, caressing her cheek with trembling fingers. I pumped all the Power to heal my damaged brain. She was breathing shallowly, but her heart was pumping fiercely. My eyes lingered on her bandaged up leg wound, cringing.

Staggering away, I found myself bending down to feel Serena's neck, searching for a pulse. Her body was limp like Nina's, but her neck and arms were full of bruises. My face scrunched—spiking pain in my temples—as I traced the reddish circles around Serena's neck. They were puckered, oozing colorless liquid. My brother wouldn't do this—Phillip would never harm someone he loved.

Lucifer's words spat at me: Everything your brother was, is gone, Cameron.

My eyes flickered to a wall—it was shimmery. Something like a… a massive cocoon was stuck on the wall. Shit—I groped around for the Dagger Nina dropped. Feeling less like a Zombie and more like road-kill, I made my way to the wall, rubbing my forehead. I pushed my hearing into the cocoon—it was hard to focus but I… got it. Faint heartbeat under the layers of wiry webs, under skin and sternum. Why was I doing this? Digging the blade's tip under the silver wires, tugging the Dagger towards me—cutting the wires. The ones I cut turned to dust. The more layers I got rid of the thicker they became, until I cut some really thick ones—they were engorged or whatever, thicker than my thumbs. I sliced through them and blood sprayed everywhere. There really wasn't a minute to process what the H had just happened because I was whirled and smacked into the wall.

Romeo crushed my hand—the one holding the Azure Dagger—causing me to drop it.

"What the fuck, douchebag—"

Romeo's hand clamped tightly around my windpipe.

"You tried killing him," he pulled me forward only to smack me back—ouch. I so didn't want another brain hemorrhage. "You shouldn't be breathing, kid." I could see obvious injuries across Romeo's face, a huge cut on his shoulder—his clothes were rags. Still, the douche-canoe lifted me off my feet, tightening his hold on my neck.

I kicked my legs, shaking my head as best as possible. Couldn't this bastard see I hadn't cut Lucifer? I hadn't tried killing him. Against all better judgment I'd been cutting the guy loose…

"…didn't…" I wheezed, clawing at his hand weakly. Romeo's head cocked, a ghost of a smirk plastered. I was going… to… gouge out his eyeballs.

"What's that, junior? You're choking? What a shame."

Energy clacked over my skin dying quickly. Damn brain aneurysm. This moron didn't get it—if he didn't cut Lucifer loose he'd die, those webs were sucking out his blood. This wasn't me worrying over him, no way. But stopping Cain was going to take a lot fire power—we needed him.

I hit Romeo's arm, feeling breathless and red-faced. Didn't work. I looked at the blood pouring from the wires I'd cut—look! I pleaded, look! I sensed the moment Romeo grew two functioning brain cells. I fell flat on my stomach, face smacking the floor.

I wanted to break his two-hundred and whatever fucking bones. I panted to get in some much needed oxygen.

"I wasn't… killing him…" I got out for good measure.

Romeo didn't say a word, hurrying with cutting the webbing still holding Lucifer prisoner. More blood poured, splashing onto my jeans and boots, hitting Romeo's face and body. My uncle's body fell from inside—Romeo drew both arms around him, hoisting him.

"What the bloody hell happened?"

"Cain happened," I rested my forehead on the filthy floor. Falling asleep now wouldn't be cool. Nope, big no-no. I propped myself against the wall watching Lucifer's lips part for air. Satisfaction grew like a pesky weed making me feel better about myself. Just a little. Okay, fine—a lot better. "Your brilliant plan failed. Shocker."

The Cambion bastard didn't bother apologizing—another great shock—and glared me to death. I brushed it off.

"Where the hell were you, anyway?"

"Downstairs. I saw Azazel as soon as I walked through the door. Not that that's any of your business."

I heaved a humorless chuckle. In about two minutes I was going to be rejuvenated and this guy was seriously asking for a right hook to his chin.

I spat on the floor, "Whatever, douchebag. Did you at least kill him?"

Romeo was silent for several moments up until Lucifer's gray eyes slipped open demanding he answer my question. A very valid one.

"No, he got away." I groaned resisting the urge to smack my forehead. I didn't want the room spinning like a merry-go-round again. "I lost him in all the commotion. One minute the Vampires were feeding, same with the Succubus and Incubus—it was pretty mellow. The next minute the Vampires started ripping human throats. Same with the Demon possessed humans. They clawed out their insides. It was a bloodbath."

Letting my sense of smell wander—it didn't need a long leash. My nose wrinkled. I shook my head trying to get rid of it. The smell was ripe—those people couldn't be dead for more than half an hour, maybe be less, and already it smelled like rotting flesh.

"I had to kill most Vampires." He shrugged uncaring. "They wouldn't let me come up."

Lucifer was impassive staring at the rest of the room. Searching nook and cranny. Romeo knew what—who he was searching for. I did, too. He felt his ruined jacket and shirt—where the webs had pierced to reach his skin, latching on like leeches. The palm came back bloody. It closed into a fist just as Lucifer let out an angered cry. Kind of sounded like he was preparing to wage war.

Outside glass broke, lights flickered out of existence. Car alarms went off throughout several blocks. A raging wind came from the windows he'd broken earlier in the fight—it was freezing. Like below zero freezing. It became so strong a lamppost shook outside—my eyes widened as I peeked out into the deserted street. Among the annoyingly loud alarms a boom echoed, shaking the entire building. The lamppost was down. It fell across the street like a tree after being chopped by a huge lumberjack dude. I edged back a step, afraid the wind would sweep me off the room. It wasn't over yet—Lucifer's flare of Power knocked down several degrees and… and snow was starting to fall.

He was making it snow in San Diego. Oh boy.

He was causing a blackout, a snow storm… Above lightning clashed. Hello there, old friend, I thought rolling my eyes. So much for my Power outbursts. Lucifer took the cake and then some.

"You have to stop," I heard myself saying. I couldn't feel the Power he was dishing out, but I knew it was a gigantic tidal wave. "People will get hurt. Or worse. It's not going to help find Cain—"

"I don't give a damn about the people. They're humans. They don't matter to me." His voice wasn't like anything I'd ever heard—not even when he'd forced me down, to stay in control of my body.

"Without humans there would be no Nephilims." I shrugged turning around to face him. Wishing I hadn't. My uncle's eyes were glowing furiously as raw anger burned inside him, electricity sparked in the whites of his eyes—dilating the pupils. "You probably should've gone all badass on Cain—like this. I think we might have stood more of a chance."

"Don't say another word." Lucifer bellowed. Romeo's jaw flexed and it might've been me, but was that a flicker of… remorse?

In a fast move, Romeo took Lucifer's head in both hands snapping it to the side violently. He grabbed him after his legs gave out. Ah, so that was why he'd looked sorry.

"He's going to be raving mad when he heals up."

"Worse than this?" I pointed behind me.

Romeo lowered the Devil on the arm chair Cain had sat on before.

"You didn't know him before he met Etna. I did. Trust me, what he just pulled off were parlor tricks." Yeah, I still maintained he should've used this on Cain. But no, son of a bitch had to underestimate the psychopathic killer with Power and Magic. Conclusion: I was surrounded by idiots. "Power is strong… But Magic is different. You should know that—your father was the one who passed on the knowledge to the first Covens. Magic was given to some humans for protection against beings with Power—if Angels ever turned on mankind they would be able to defeat them."

It was true. But Cain's Power amplified his Magic—he could cast spells and God knew what else by himself. Witches belonged to Covens for a reason. Covens meant unity, strength in numbers.

An angered sigh escaped me. I hated the guy more with each breath I took.

A startling breath coupled with a skipping heartbeat stole my attention from the dying storms. I was by her side in a blink, crouching and slipping an arm under her shoulders, hefting her. Nina coughed blinking, cheeks red.

"Careful," I reached to pin her badly injured leg to the floor. "Your leg's torn—bleeding."

"Ah," she sighed pained. "I win."

"What?" I asked confused. Had she hit her head, too? I eyed the broken table she was lying on. Maybe.

"You said once that… that acid is way worse than a slash? I got them both. I win." Oh. I remembered that. It was back when she found out about our dirty little secret, when I patched up her arm in the school's infirmary.

I smiled sadly, "It's not something I'd brag about. But yeah, you definitely win."

A presence I'd felt even before I was born hit me in the chest—there was no disguising it. The familiarity. The proximity. It was all there, flooding me.

Phillip showed up out of the blue, leaning on the brown door. His pale jeans and boots were bloodstained like he'd just walked through a sea of dead bodies. Which he had—downstairs. None of the blood was his, he didn't have a single wound or tiny scratch.

"Phillip," I said narrowing my eyes at the same time I got up. "I'm not in the mood to play games, little brother. Especially if you're idea is trying to kill me. Again." Last time I saw my brother I'd been caught off guard—but now I knew this wasn't the real deal, he wasn't the Phillip I'd grown up with. It was an alter-ego hell bent on making me and others he'd loved suffer.

Blinding eyes gazed at me. Lips identical to mine curved lightly, I could see the pompous smirk I usually wore.

"Of course you're not in the mood," he said, like being moody was a bad habit of mine. "But I bet you're dying to kick my ass." His chin nodded at Nina, who was still at my feet—stunned—and I felt sudden anger raising its head. This bastard—this asshole—had nearly destroyed the most precious thing I held dear.

Yes, I wanted payback. I felt my muscles swelling in size, my Power never failed to respond to sudden outbursts of rage. I swear my brother smiled before vanishing quickly. He crossed the destroyed room full-speed and threw himself at me. His arms wrapped my waist. The impact was so great it sent us flying backward—but we didn't stop there. We went through a broken window and fell—I hit the pavement with my back, cursing inwardly. Phillip was already getting up when I opened my eyes—it was all happening fast. At a speed humans couldn't track. I flung myself up, doing my best to ignore the nauseating smell wafting from the abandoned club's entrance.

It was a killer stench.

I tipped my upper body backward—like I was playing limbo—to avoid getting a hard-ass kick to the head. Phillip was quick recovering, going for my legs. I avoided the sweep by defying the laws of physics—pulling off a backflip.

My little brother wasn't messing around. Making me go all Bruce Lee.

As soon as my feet touched ground, I threw myself at him. I tackled him like a bull on steroids. Phillip got thrown a few feet away. He didn't have time for a breather. I was on him in less than two seconds. My fist met his face—the blow was so strong his head snapped aside and Phillip spat out a mouthful of blood. Grasping his sweater, I lifted him off the asphalt and shoved him down. I could've sworn the ground shook like an earthquake was heading our way.

The only thing in my head was her. Her—enable to breathe, panicking, disoriented. Nina remembering what happened to her family, how they'd died.

"You fucking bastard," I spat at him. My next punch was aimed at his abdomen. Phillip arched under me, sizzling eyes half-shut in pain. "You can do whatever you want to me, Phillip. I get it. I killed our father—but her? Nina's done nothing wrong. Everything that's been happening to her is our fault, because she met us…" my voice failed me as another batch of rage came alive. My fingers dug into the hollow of Phill's throat. In that instant, something fiery burned me.

Releasing him, I walked back a few steps while shaking off my hand. The skin was red, fuming. My younger brother got off his ass, spitting—this time intentionally—on the ground. He wiped the blood seeping underneath an eyebrow and from his nose.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt your feelings last time?"

"Don't antagonize me, Phillip."

He gave me a laughing smile, "Did I make my big, bad brother cry?" he began circling me slowly, like a predator did with the weakest member of the pack. I wasn't the weakest. "I loved watching you beg me for her life. You looked so… pathetic."

My dark eyes followed Phillip's movements to a T.

"Stop!" the yell came from inside the club, from the window we'd toppled off.

I would love to stop. I would give my left arm to get my brother back… But looking at the person standing here I saw none of the old Phillip shining through. Deep in her bones Nina knew it was a lost cause, too.

"I think she still has a thing for me, Cam. What do you think?" he whistled when I took a step forward, growling deep in my chest like a caged animal. "Do you think Daren and Sam were right? Maybe she wants to fuck us both."

I ran at him determined to make him swallow those filthy words. And maybe his tongue and teeth. Phillip side-stepped me with a small chuckle, provoking me.

"I thought brothers shared everything?" his arms were open as he shrugged, looking everything but apologetic. "Does she make really soft noises when you kiss her? She loved it when I kissed her neck—"

There was no escaping me, not this time. I snatched him by the neck before he moved—strangling him with both hands. He all but choked out his next words.

"What's… wrong?" he spluttered a mirthless laugh. "You almost look… jealous."

"Shut your pie hole or I'll…"

"Or you'll what? You'll kill me like you killed dad?"

I paled. Went completely livid. My hands slipped some, the hold faltering. My eyes softened. I felt a violent guilt stab in my chest.

"No, I…" my voice cracked.

He caught me off guard. My little brother grabbed my shoulders and pulled me forward, against his chest, kissing my forehead. I was speechless—a flare of hot pain like I'd never felt before traveled throughout my body. From my side to my fingertips and toes.

Lips fell open in a silent moan. If it weren't Phillip steadying me, I would've fallen. I glimpsed down fleetingly. Azure Dagger. It was embedded in my side—every inch of its blade. The wound oozed blood. My left hand lashed for Phillip's arm, the one digging in the dagger. I tried pushing it out.

No good.

"It's a different kind of pain, isn't? I know. It feels like someone's reaching inside you slowly, poking your insides with a hundred glass shards." Phillip explained keeping the Dagger buried inside me. "The fun part is, when it gets pulled out it'll still feel painful. Like the shards stay inside. Burning you. They used it on me in Hell a few times, when I wasn't using Power blockers. I never felt so human before—"

I arched with a gasp as Phillip turned the Azure blade, twisting the wound.

"He's your brother, Phillip!" Nina's yell rushed to my ears.

"Tell me something I don't know," he huffed, disgust coloring his tone. "If he'd never been born I'd still have a family. At least a father."

Obviously, Nina couldn't hear him. That didn't matter—I'd heard. It was what he wanted.

"Argh," my face contorted in pain. Sweat dripped down my hair line.

Phillip blinked once, "A stab to the side won't kill you. It'll heal at human pace and hurt like hell—but you won't bleed out or anything." A wicked grin took over his face making me shudder. "Like she said, you're my brother. I've decided I can't just kill you. I have something special in store for you." He hoisted me closer when my legs buckled, the Dagger dug in a little further. Jesus fucking Christ. "Remember the Trial?" my brother's voice was further away—I could only see Nina practically flinging herself off the window, frenetic.

I saw Romeo holding her back from the edge. Had to be the only worthwhile thing he'd done in his entire existence.

Phillip dug something from his pocket. I couldn't see what. Next, I felt something sharp digging into my back—like a set of needles. All of my being shivered and within seconds it was like I weighed air.

After that… everything went black.

***

Everything was whirlwind. Shadows came and went quickly, scared away by a painful lightshow that made me want to barf. I tried pushing myself off the floor—

"Wha—shit!" I yelled when I pushed off the hard surface and fell for what felt like miles onto… another ground. Pain exploded across my back and head. I rolled onto my side, rubbing my head. Blinking I looked up—it was the ceiling. I frowned glaring stupidly at it. "What the holly hell?"

Did I fall from the ceiling? I shook my head, sitting up. I could do off-the-hook things but walking on ceilings and walls wasn't one of them. I surveyed my surroundings when they stopped spinning.

I stopped breathing.

LEGO blocks were pushed into a corner. Dinosaurs were lined on a bookshelf. More scattered toys… It was impossible not to recognize this place—this bedroom. It used to be mine and Phillip's bedroom. This was… our old house.

I stumbled to my feet, winded. I spun—glaring. My eyes were so wide they hurt. I stumbled back once. And again, and again—bumping into… I turned around. I'd bumped into my old bed.

What was this? What the fuck was happening here?

Grabbing my head I went for the door, it was already half-open. Outside the bedroom my heart just beat faster. I remembered the painting—it was across my bedroom door. I'd always liked it. Deep maroon background, with a sound wave of different amplitudes and in different shades of hot colors. It got lost in the fire, though.

Like everything else.

I walked past it trying to ignore the stirring anguish and despair. It was no good. The further I went, the more images from when I was a kid surfaced. Sweat piled between my shoulder blades.

There wasn't anyone home—no, not home. This wasn't my home. This place it… it was in ruins. Had been for eleven years. Wherever this was… it wasn't real. When I got down to the hall and stepped inside the modern living room—decorated by my mom—I did a double-take.

In the center of the room was a big rectangular table. I crossed the room slowly, tilting my head in disbelief. There was a kid sitting on the floor, a bunch of colored pencils scattered as he sketched something on a large piece of paper. His back was to me—I didn't need to see his face.

His hair was black. Pitch black.

The boy's shoulders jumped—startled. He stopped painting whatever it was, twisting toward me. I stopped. I just stopped. Black hair, black eyes and tanned skin. It was me. Only eleven years younger—seven.

"Hi," I—he said. The younger version of me stayed sitting, staring.

I had to take a long, long breath just so I wouldn't pass out. Another one so I could answer.

"Hey," my voice was scratchy, raw. Like it hadn't been used in ages. Mini-me smiled. I didn't. "Who are you?"

This couldn't actually be me. I was me. Shit, my head was starting to hurt from all this Twilight Zone shtick.

He frowned—in a way that would've made Nina coo.

"I'm Cameron."

Sighing, I crossed my arms. Exuding bravado was something I needed to do even standing in front of my younger self.

"You can't be Cameron. I am. You're not real—you can't be."

The seven year-old cocked his head, looking like he wanted to throw something sharp at my head. Alright. Whoever was manipulating this was doing a good job with the details.

"I'm Cameron," he repeated. Pinching my nose and closing my eyes, I went for a calming breath when I heard scuffling. He'd gotten up and was making his way to me, drawing in hand. "Look! I made this for you. Do you like it?"

I stared into my eyes—his eyes. They looked real. Exactly mine, minus the creeping shadows of guilt. I didn't look at the paper he was holding out. His eager face fell.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Cameron!" he yelled.

"Fine," I groaned letting him have the cookie. I couldn't believe I was arguing with my seven year-old self. "Where are we?"

His lips quirked, his forehead crinkled with confusion.

"We're home…?" the kid version of me answered taking a look around. Nodding once he was satisfied. "This is our house."

No. It used to be our house. It couldn't be now—because it was burned down. Completely gone.

"Look at my drawing!" he urged, excitement back in his eyes.

I didn't. Instead, I moved around the kid, walking toward the big living room glass doors. They led into the backyard. Stopping at the French doors, I grabbed the handle, pushing it down.

The door didn't open. I tried again. Nothing. I tried again—again. It didn't budge.

"It won't work," my younger voice called out. "You can't leave."

The hell I couldn't. Pulling back my fist, I aimed it straight at the window. I needed to leave this place. It was getting to me. My fist smashed into the glass and… nothing. The glass shook a ton like it was made of jelly—like it absorbed the impact.

It didn't break. Gritting my teeth, I punched it again. Still not even a scratch. Maybe I needed to pull on Power to break out. I reached for it, already wanting it to go to my arms and hands, only… there was nothing. I couldn't feel the rush of adrenaline, the high and anger seeping into my veins.

There was nothing.

I dropped my arms backing away, staring at the glass doors, horrified.

"I told you," I whirled to face the kid. He was sitting on the couch, shaking his head. "You can't leave. It won't let you."

It?

"What are you talking about? What's It?"

"You need to remember," he held up the drawing, forcing me to lock eyes with it. What I saw floored me. That drawing looked like something I would do—not seven year-old me. It was pretty graphic. With blood. "It's us—you. You and Phillip. Remember? He…"

My hand flew to my side.

"He stabbed me…" I whispered. Mini-me nodded fervently. "He stabbed me with Azure Dagger." I repeated, assuring myself as memories came at me. After that… I felt something prickle me—in the back. I twisted an arm trying to feel my shoulders. There was nothing there—just like there wasn't any wound close to my hip. "What happened after that? Where am I?"

"Where are we," my fingers dug into my hair, gripping it. I was on a dangerous edge of attacking myself.

Before I could take a menacing step towards my younger self, a white blinding light came from the outside. I looked over a shoulder as the solar flare died down. Beyond the stupid unbreakable glass doors was a being. It had humanoid shape, arms, legs, torso and head. There was no face. The thing was… made from hard light.

For a second my mind tripped itself wondering… God?

An impossible loud laugh tore through the air seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. I snuck a look at seven year old me when he gasped—slowly, I watched as his image vanished like smoke.

Keeping my cool, my eyes turned to the front.

"I'm not God, Cameron," the voice echoed again and I forced my hands to stay at my sides—I wouldn't cover my ears. I wouldn't show weakness. "Yes, you will. Some are harder to break than others, but eventually they all succumb. They all show their pain."

"Get out of my head." I barked taking a step forward, lip curling in anger.

A booming chuckle crashed into me. I shook my head.

"You have no idea where you are. Poor boy." It said in a sweet voice. It almost sounded like a woman this time. "Let me walk you through it, then. I'm a Spirit. No, not like a ghost. I'm part of a hex. I was made by Witches. Sometime after the Fall Michael asked a few Witches to create a magical object to entrap beings who possessed angelic blood. They did. They enchanted a cube box and after that they put a hex on it. From that day forward Angels and Nephilim's—especially—have been Trialed with the Cube." It purred sweetly. The white shape waltzed closer to the doors and I saw the Spirit's height overshadowed mine by at least three heads. "Your brother used it on you—the Cube. Your body was sucked inside it."

I was stuck inside a… box? Of a… box? About to yell—I stopped, remembering Phillip pulling out something from his jacket. I remembered feeling lighter than a feather. Phillip had—he trapped me in a magical Cube?

When I got out I was going to end—

"You won't get out. Unless someone lets you out." I could've sworn I heard a smile in Spirit's voice. Which got me more pissed off. "But don't worry. Time inside the Cube doesn't exist. You won't age, you won't feel all the pesky needs humans have. You're here to be punished."

Punished. Of course. Guess some Angels on the Court were getting what they'd wanted, me bring Trialed.

"Everything you'll feel—physically or emotionally—will feel real. You won't die, no. You'll think so sometimes, but you'll wake up good as new—" Spirit's body blazed as another laugh broke out. Louder. I hid a wince, ducking my head. "You'll wake up and do everything all over again. Forever." My heart sped up. No, I rejected, I couldn't be trapped here—in a freaking box of torture forever. Phillip would… I swallowed. Phillip won't let you out, a vicious truthful voice barked in every corner of my mind. "No, he won't, Cameron. You'll stay here and live through everything you've ever been afraid of. Everything that's ever made you guilty. I'll dig it out of you and rub your nose in it. One time. A second time. A third… until you finally crack. Then I'll get something new…"

Dazed and in complete denial, I pointed to at the pencils and drawing.

"What was that…? Me—him?"

"Him?" Spirit asked amused. "He is you. You are him. He is your subconscious. I can manifest anything I want as long as it's inside your mind. I can make it appear. I can make it go away just as easily. So, in truth, you'll be the maker of your own hell and suffering."

I gasped out a breath. Spirit lifted its arms and something happened—behind me a fire was spreading from somewhere in the hall, covering ground like crazy. Smoke built up pretty quickly. I backed away. First instinct was zooming for the doors. But there were two problems: for whatever reason my Power was nonexistent in this… Cube box reality and Spirit wouldn't let me leave this make-believe house.

I was trapped.

Flames tracked to where I was standing, faster, consuming everything they touched. The living room couch caught fire. I edged back another step.

"So it begins, Cameron Leale. The first day of the rest of your existence." Spirit's voice washed over in a whisper. I didn't dare look away from the fire to see if It was gone—I knew It was.

Before I knew it my back was touching hard against the French doors. I was breathing really fast. Taking a new breath before I finished the other. Smoke invaded my lungs. This wasn't real—but it looked real. It would feel real. Closing my eyes, I held on to the one thing that made me happy, the one person.

Nina, I thought longingly.

I wanted to hold her again. To kiss her. To see her. Feel her in my arms, hugging me, under me. To hear her voice. To see her breathtaking eyes. Opening my obsidian eyes I watched as fire licked closer, courting me before pouncing. This Cube wanted to break me. Fire wasn't something I was afraid of, not really.

Was this some sort of test? Fuck. Screw it, I wouldn't let this scare me—it wasn't real. Before any more doubts glued themselves on me like wild monkeys, I leaped into the scorching flames. I felt their suffocating heat before I landed in their midst. Fire wrapped me in a tight embrace tearing away skin, burning it to the point I wanted to suffocate. I thrashed wildly and screamed—it felt real.

I rolled in fire. Saw my blood pour from horrible blisters. Saw skin crumble to ash. Until smoke burned my lungs too badly and there wasn't any oxygen getting to my brain…