21. Horde of Moths

"She can't handle this," the other Claire hisses, wrapping her hands around Echo's torso. "Just let me kill her. I'll take her place. I'll do whatever you want me to."

I collapse to the floor, shadows slinking away from their grip on me. My knees hit the ground with a heavy thud, but I don't care anymore. I just stare at the rotten, moldy splinters in the wood, unable to lift my head.

Hell… If I'm always going to be the prey with no way out, then Echo and that bitch might as well kill me now. He's hell-bent on tormenting me, and she's eager to please him. All I want is an escape.

"Another escape," the other Claire hisses. "She wants to run away again. She's weak!"

"Enough," Echo says, his voice low and calm. "You're ruining the moment."

A chilling silence settles in, the kind that makes your skin crawl and hints at something far worse than death. The other Claire's eyes blaze with jealousy and anger, her gaze searing into me. She doesn't just want me gone; she's determined to erase me.

Honestly, if escape is impossible, maybe the answer is surrendering, letting the darkness consume me. Perhaps there's happiness to be found in it. Maybe I could learn to silence the pain by giving myself over to Echo entirely.

I force myself to look up and meet his eyes. They're black, but I think I catch a hint of color—fine silver and cobalt blue. Just like back then.

"So, was that it?" I whisper, my voice trembling. "Did you just want to make me suffer? From the very beginning?"

His smile is a cold, cruel thing.

"From the very beginning, Little Soul." My heart clenches as he uses the voice he once spoke with as Echo the guardian spirit, not Echo the demon. "Pain was always the point."

The worst part? Hearing him speak like that, I realize a bitter truth. I was in love with him back then. I truly, deeply fell. And now I can't even stand. I'm still kneeling before him.

The other Claire's eyes narrow, her lips curling into a sneer.

"So fucking pathetic," she spits. "I could take your place and no one would ever miss you."

I open my mouth to retort, to say something cruel, but nothing comes. There's nothing I can say that would hurt her. But I don't have to. Echo, groaning dangerously, slams his hand against her neck, lifting her into the air with a vicious grip.

"You forget your place," he growls, his voice dripping with a mixture of rage and dark amusement. "I told you to be quiet."

The other Claire's eyes widen in shock and terror as she claws at Echo's hand, struggling to breathe. "Please, Echo… I was only…" she gasps. "I only wanted to hurt her with you. I could replace her."

"You?" Echo laughs darkly. "You think you could replace her? You're nothing but a tool, and you should remember that."

He tightens his grip, and Claire's face turns a ghastly shade of blue. Then, in a swift, brutal motion, he squeezes so hard her head is severed. Instead of blood, shadows seep from her, and soon she's just another tendril of darkness swirling around him.

I gasp. "What just… What just happened?" My voice trembles.

Echo turns to me, raising an eyebrow. Even now, in this horrific moment, I can't help but notice how striking he is. His beauty is different in this form, more sinister, but captivating nonetheless.

"Surprised?" he chuckles, a dark, mocking sound.

"Why did she turn into a shadow?"

"Oh, Clarity… She was never real. Don't you get it? In this place, nothing is. She was just a figment of my imagination, created to mess with you. And she served her purpose."

"Purpose?" I ask, feeling overwhelmed, on the verge of breaking. My brain is shutting down. I just want peace.

"She made you so damn jealous," he replies.

I slump further, my spirit nearly broken. I can taste his amusement in the air.

Thinking about everything he's done to my life, I want to hate him. I want to make him suffer. But I'm just so damn tired, so damn powerless.

"You're the best girl a demon could want," he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath. I know he doesn't really mean it, but my heart still flutters. "No shadow could ever replace you."

Led by a shadow pressing against my back, I navigate a maze of pitch-black corridors, their walls cold and unyielding. The countless twists and turns blur together, and I've lost track of how many lefts and rights we've taken since Echo told me to follow him.

The air is heavy with the scent of damp stone and something metallic, like blood. I like to believe that when Echo said nothing here in the dreamscape is real, he wasn't lying. That way, this smell sticks around just to freak me out, not because there are actual bodies lying around.

When we exited the haunted house through the main door, I expected to step out onto the plaza where I had entered. But we didn't. Instead of the plaza, we found ourselves in this seemingly endless maze.

It just shows how much power Echo has over the dreamscape. He can build it, bend it, and probably destroy it too. He's the king here.

The shadow shoves me again, harder this time, and I stumble forward, catching myself against the cold, slick, sharp wall. The darkness is so complete that I can barely see my hand in front of my face. I know Echo is somewhere ahead, but I can't see him.

"Keep moving," Echo's voice commands, low and menacing. "We're almost there."

Almost where? I want to ask, but the words die in my throat. Fear claws at my mind, and I push it down, focusing on the feel of the wall beneath my fingertips.

It wouldn't be surprising if Echo wanted to torment me again. Back in the real world, he haunted me with breaks, giving me doses of fear now and then. Here, I don't know what else he wants from me. How much of my endless existence does he want to fill with torture? Or with... sex.

That's what we were doing in the dreamscape before I found out he's a demon after all.

Finally, the path up ahead opens. It leads to a cavernous space filled with a faint light filtering in from a hole in the ceiling. Moonlight casts a pale glow on the rough stone walls. Echo is already there, his silhouette sharp in the cool light.

"We're here," he says.

"What is this place?" I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I rub my arms, looking around the chamber.

The walls are completely unpolished. They look like they could cut my skin open if I pressed against them. They appear slick as if the night dew has permanently settled upon them, and I imagine they're just as cold as they look.

In the center of the chamber lies a large, circular pit. Something moves within it, but I can't make out what it is from where I stand.

The ceiling arches high, vanishing into darkness. That faint moonlight filtering through a hole in it casts long, distorted shadows that dance across the walls, creating the illusion of movement. It looks a bit like light filtering through water caverns, reflecting off the surface and casting halos on the walls.

Around the edge of the chamber, I see little alcoves carved into the stone, each holding creepy statues. They are twisted and nightmarish, showing a demon creating scenes of torment and anguish.

Echo, I think. They're showing Echo.

There's one of him creeping toward a terrified human, a malicious grin on his face. Another captures him choking that human—the human's hand is rigid and their spine is sharp against Echo's defined abs, their face contorted in pain, tears streaming down their cheeks. The next one shows Echo feeding on him.

"Think of this as my home," he says suddenly, making me jump.

"Why bring me here?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

He glances at me briefly before moving toward the pit. I follow, peering into the abyss. Shapes move beneath the surface, their forms indistinct, like pale, creamy neon light mixed with darkness. Echo dips a single claw into it, capturing a piece of the light on his hand. He licks it off with a long, deliberate motion, groaning with a sound all too familiar.

It's the same kind of noise he made while having sex. It doesn't differ at all.

A shiver runs down my spine. My body responds against my will.

"We're negotiating a deal," he sighs. "I've told you my terms. Until you tell me yours, I can't leave you for long. We're… bound."

A tremor of dread coils within me, mingling with the flicker of desire his presence ignites. I force my gaze away from him, focusing instead on the pit and the shifting shapes within.

He just ate one of those things. My heart races wildly.

"And if I refuse the deal?"

His smile is a cruel slash in the dim light. "You won't refuse. You can't. Not anymore."

For a moment, silence hangs heavy in the air, the only sound the faint, unsettling ripple of whatever lies beneath the surface of the pit. Then, Echo steps closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating.

"I told you you're mine. I wasn't lying. The deal may never come to fruition, but you're staying with me regardless."

The words hang between us. Terrible. Tantalizing. I stare into his eyes, searching for any hint of deception, but all I see is the dark, unfathomable depths of his intent.

You're dead, Claire. If he's telling the truth, then rejecting him isn't an option. He owns you.

"Why would you want me here for eternity?" I ask. "Wouldn't tormenting the same soul over and over get boring for you?"

Echo's eyes stay locked on mine, not looking away for a second. He doesn't say anything at first, just watches me. The silence is creepy to say the least. Finally, he speaks in this low, rumbling whisper that echoes through the room.

"Maybe," he purrs. "I'm willing to try it though. Are you?"

His smile widens. My heart skips a beat.

This is impossible. He's really trapped me. I'm completely fucking bound to him. My life as I know it is over. And it's… my own doing, too.

A bitter laugh slips out, harsh and grating. I didn't mean to let it escape, but it does. Echo cocks his head, eyes flicking to my stretched lips, amusement dancing in his gaze.

"You're still thinking like a mortal," he muses, voice smooth and deadly. His hand reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. The cold touch sends a bolt of electricity down my spine.

I close my eyes, struggling against the surge of emotions within me. A part of me wants to surrender, to let his darkness consume me. I desired it even before I knew what he's done to me. Another part is strangely rebellious. It's as if only after death did I finally find a will to live. It doesn't make any sense.

"I could show you things," he whispers, his breath cool against my skin. "Things that would make you forget the mortal world entirely. The pleasure... you wouldn't even dream of it. If you're a good girl, that is."

The dark promise in his voice sends a thrill through me, igniting a forbidden desire I can't suppress. Despite everything, despite knowing what he is and what he's done, a part of me wants him. So, I do the unthinkable and place a hand gently on his torso.

He grabs it instantly, bringing it to his lips, twisting my wrist so the most sensitive skin brushes against his mouth.

"I like your pain," he purrs, letting his tongue trace my veins to feel my erratic pulse. "But I like your pleasure too."

He's telling the truth. We've spent countless hours chasing pleasure, the two of us. It was real, even when he was crushing my chest and draining my energy in the real world. He kept me happy in the process. But deep down, I know it can't go on like this. He's cruel and sadistic. He has to twist sweetness with a sharp edge, has to make me cry.

"You keep toying with me," I say, breathless. It's all I can manage, feeling like I might melt into a puddle at his feet otherwise. His touch—it's intoxicating. If I were an instrument, he'd play me flawlessly, drawing out every note he desired.

"Yes," he exhales. "I'm bad. I'm selfish, my Little Soul. But I can show you wonders. I want to feel you experience them. I want to see you tremble with ecstasy. I want to taste your tears."

His tongue trails slowly along my wrist, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. He closes his eyes, a sound escaping him that nearly shatters me. His eyelids flutter, his lips quiver, as if the taste of my skin is divine.

I shudder, my body reacting to his touch despite the fear and revulsion that grips me. Something deep within stirs, answering his call, whispering temptations I can barely resist.

Oh, god… I don't want this to stop.

"Lick me again," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I want you to lick me again." But to my shock, he drops my wrist fast and cold and steps away from me as the words leave my lips.

He's shaken, his nostrils flaring and fingers tensing at his sides. I see that he wants me. He wants me so badly that his torso is heaving up and down. Yet, he stops himself from tasting me again.

"No, my Little Soul," he breathes. "I've had plenty of you today. A little more and I might consume you whole. I wouldn't want that."

Without waiting for my reply, he turns away. I watch him walk off, his body swaying gently, his muscular back and long hair moving slightly. Only when he's a good distance away do I move, running my fingers over my tingling wrist.

The places where his tongue touched feel utterly sensitive. I could moan just from brushing them.

I lift my eyes to look at him again. He's already at the end of the chamber, watching me as well. After a moment of our gazes locking, his tongue runs over his sharp teeth like he's trying to taste me again.

"Has this ever happened before?" I ask, heart beating strongly in my chest. "You, taking a human to be with you like this? Is this a thing?"

His eyes dark and unreadable as he considers my question. Finally, he speaks. "No," he admits, his gaze unwavering. "You are the first."

My heartbeat quickens.

Did he just say… I'm special?

I'm not sure what it means to him, if it means anything at all. But to me, it means more than I'd like to admit. It makes me lift my chin higher, feel something blooming in my chest.

He holds my gaze for a heartbeat longer—a millisecond stretching into a second, a second into a minute. Then, he turns around and walks away. I'm compelled to just stand in place, still locked in that moment that held me prisoner. But then I realize that I'm meant to follow him, because a shadow pushes onto my back.

I do as I'm told, my steps hesitant at first but growing steadier with each stride.

The cavern stretches out before us, a new segment of it appearing after the row of statues. Here, the walls are as rugged and unpolished as ever, their surfaces coated with moisture, but there's less light to make them glint. At the center stands a massive bed, its frame carved from black stone.

"So, normally, you'd just kill me," I mutter.

"Without batting an eye," he replies, his tone chillingly matter-of-fact. He strides to the bed, sits, and fixes me with a dark, unwavering stare. As I said, he likes watching me. He always has. "Just as I have with countless others."

It doesn't surprise me at all that he has killed humans before. I believe it.

"But this time was different," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," he agrees. "This time, you were different."

He says nothing more. I don't ask. Instead, with my heart pounding in my chest, I walk over to him and sit on the bed. I guess, I can do what I want here. He led me into his home and allowed me to sit on his bed. Does that mean that I'm like… a pet to him? I run my hands over the silky sheets. Then, out of the silence, he speaks.

"I lied to you before," he says casually. "It was you who created the evil Claire, not me. I was a fan of that actually."

My eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Wait… what?"

His laugh is a low rumble, echoing off the damp, unpolished walls of the cavern.

"Well, it was more like a team effort," he says, his voice laced with dark amusement. "But the idea was yours. You gave the intention, and I just added a bit of power to make it real."

Intention? No way. My intention doesn't work in here anymore. Besides…

"You can't be serious," I say. "When would I ever intend something like this? No, you're lying. You're just bored and messing with me. That—that evil version of me—it's your creation, not mine."

"Why?" He tilts his head, a sly smile forming. "Can't believe that using blood as lube came from your twisted little mind? Don't underestimate yourself, Clarity."

My eyes widen, and for a moment, I'm speechless. Then, something unexpected happens—I start laughing. The sound of my laughter fills the room. It's light, airy, and completely out of place, but I can't stop.

He didn't just say that…

Echo raises a brow, tilting his head again like a curious animal, his mouth open as he watches me. His whole body tenses on the bed as I clutch my belly, trying to catch my breath.

"Wow, yeah," I finally manage to mutter. "When you put it like that, I must be really fucked up somewhere inside, huh?"

His surprise melts into a slow, predatory smile again.

"I happen to like fucked up."

And just like that, my stomach fills with butterflies—no, more like a wild horde of moths, fluttering so fiercely they leave me weak.

But as soon as that weird surge of happiness hits, so does anger. So does the betrayal. The humor vanishes in an instant.

This demon, this wretched being, has destroyed everything I've ever held dear. He'd do it again without a second thought. Laughter? I should be drowning in tears.

But no tears come.

Only moths. Only angry, angry moths.