Chapter 2: Descend to Darkness

 

 

Glossary

Nephilim: A race of humans who are born with angel blood, and thus, they are part human, part angel. Two halves of a whole. Having existed in secrecy for thousands of years, they have established a civilization. Carrying out the sworn duty of angels, they strive to maintain order between three of Earth’s main species: humans, demons and downworlders. They are also known as Shadowhunters. 

 

 

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There is no ascent to the heights without prior descent to darkness.

No new life without some form of death.

 

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Demons.

 

Creatures that lurk in the dark corners of her unconsciousness, she knows the demons from her dreams. In the darkness, they call her mother’s, father’s, and brother’s name in long rasps. Both high and daunting, they call to her like a distorted symphony.

 

Yeji swallows. The Risperidone’s aftertaste is bitter on her tongue (but reality will always taste much bitter) and she eases the pill down quickly with cold water. She then empties the remaining liquid contents over her head and throws the cup onto the floor. The cup splinters into fragments around her; she has made a mess and knows she should clean up almost immediately, but honestly, she could not care if she gets hurt anymore.

 

Physical pain is incomparable with the nightmares that haunt her in the face of dreams.

 

(Why didn’t you save me?)

 

“It isn’t real.”

 

(Why didn’t you come for me?)

 

“They aren’t real.”

 

(Why didn’t you die with me?)

 

 

She closes her eyes.

 

 

Dreams aren’t real.

 

That’s right, because they don’t happen in real life.

 

 

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One thing about life is that no matter how well one prepares for the worst, it transforms like a hybrid- into something bigger, something more dreadful and it chooses to do so when one is least prepared.

 

The slight twitch indicates that Aunt Joohyun is still alive though barely, for the hole in her chest is not bullet-sized; it is a fist-like gaping hole. It is painful to watch, more devastating to listen. As she wheezes and struggles to catch her breath, Soyeon glances on impassively.

 

She is blonde-haired and fair-skinned, still Soyeon, but her eyes is glowing red. Blood flows from her right hand all the way down to her fingertips. Along with the drips from the tap in the kitchen, they drip persistently. “If one doesn’t see something with their eyes then one can assume is not real.” Soyeon stands straighter. Her back makes a cracking sound. “Likewise, if one sees with their own eyes then one can argue that it is real- but then again, no one ever lived to tell the truth.”

 

How she wants to move towards her; how she wants to rush to her. Guilt constricts her, but fear paralyzes her. Her brown eyes are half-lidded but openly staring, Yeji cannot bring herself to look away.

 

Aunt Joohyun’s brown eyes are fixated onto her as Soyeon nudges her lightly with her foot. She clicks her tongue. “Still alive? How troublesome.”

 

“S-Soyeon... please.”

 

There is no time for last goodbyes and final words. To Yeji, her brown eyes are a shuddering look of goodbye before Soyeon crushes her head.

 

It is a nauseating scene altogether- skull splintering apart, grey masses spilling out.

 

Mercy? Monsters are not capable.

 

It all happened so quickly. Yeji knows if she had blink, she would have missed it.

 

There is a building itch within her. Like something is wriggling and crawling from the pits of her stomach. Although she is merely spectating, the urge to empty its contents is impossible to resist. Her almost digested chicken is somewhere in the yellow slimy grime when she throws up.

 

A tall man stands firm with his two feet planted onto the floor like a tree. Uncle Chansung appears mostly unnerved except for the slight quiver on his lower lip. Is it suppressed sadness? Is it repressed rage?

 

Soyeon darts her gaze from her to him as if she is watching a drama unfold. There is no remorse from her. In fact, she looks rather amused. “You are awfully calm for someone who just witnessed murder.”

 

“She has bled too much. At best, she only has forty seconds. Best to not let her suffer.” It is amazing how he is speaking as if he is commenting on a show and not about his wife.

 

His own wife.

 

Yeji wipes with the back of her hand. Another sensation burns in her stomach but it is hatred. Turning around, she spits yellow. He does not move away, does not even flinch. Clenching her jaw, she seethes through gritted teeth.

 

Even Soyeon appears taken aback by his response. Whether her surprise is genuine or pretentious, the answer is unknown. Her gaze skims over to the brunette, taking in the shape of the helpless girl. “When Yeji tells me that she’s tired of putting up with your lack of affection, I was not expecting this. Your indifference is something else entirely. You are practically hollow.”

 

“Hollow. Now that's ironic since it's something I am definitely not. What about you, Soyeon-sshi? Are you... hollow?”

 

Soyeon’s reply is a howling cry of agony. It is an explosion of deafening screams and Yeji has to close her ears to its deafening volume but keeps her eyes open. Something has struck onto her chest. Is it a knife? No, a short sword? Yeji is unsure, but she is certain that it is sharp enough to penetrate her flesh.

 

Reaching out to pull out the blade, a searing fire suddenly splits through her and the demon recoils in astonishing pain. The heat is unimaginable beyond comprehension; the pain is unspeakable as if cursing her to roam the fields of asphodel. Bare-foot and , every second lingers with unimaginable pain that scorches her feet. Every step is to soothe the burn, but does not truly alleviate the heat.

 

A plea leaves her cursed lips.

 

After what feels like a lifetime, the madness ceases. She scrambles to her feet, shaking in waves of fear. There is nothing to be mistaken- it is heavenly fire. It burns with unmatched heat (her own fury bested). Stumbling f