Onlookers watched in horror, one asking: "What happened down there?" A voice replied: "Nothing. Catastrophe."

  “He’s still alive?” The voice continued. “After all this time?”

  I thought… I forgot this… Constantine’s thoughts coalesced together, painfully scoured from the deepest recesses of his mind. It was hazy, like the heavy mist of morning after a moonless night. I feel nothing… Why do I feel nothing? These memories locked away…

  Their faces were blank. Their shapes in the crowd were like mountains beyond a distant black mist. His head bobbed up and down as he was being dragged away slowly. Ghosts, all of them. Faceless phantoms staring at him without eyes. The street stretched endlessly, the ambulance sirens blared like a dozen wailing banshees, but he couldn’t see the lights.

  Why… can I not see their faces? Why… does it hurt?...

  “Yes, by some miracle… it shouldn’t be possible.”

  “He should be dead… like his father… It’s madness…” The voice continued. It spoke with a somber softness, a deep pain lurching within its chest.

  That’s right… they said it was a suicide… But it wasn’t… my father would never… grant me such peace… not willingly…

  Constantine’s eyes glazed up towards the sky. Not a single star shone upon it tonight. No moon, no stars, not even the faintest spec of light, scattered carelessly upon the celestial cupola. Only the infinite suffocating dark. It seemed to stare back at him, like the faceless mob that surrounded him. It mocked, and laughed. His eyes stared into that mocking abyss, and a realization was born from it.

  Ah, I remember now… it was Her… Her face… Her eyes… I knew I’d seen them somewhere before…

  Constantine blinked, and suddenly found himself standing back in his old apartment, surrounded by bodies. Dessicated, mummified skeletons still clinging to ashen-like flesh and skin as if they lay there for thousands of years. Others were utterly ripped apart, their muscles and entrails adorning every part of the disgusting, vile mess that was his old home. Meat and bones, teeth and skin littered the place as if they had been eviscerated from the inside out. But no matter the state of the bodies, their blood pooled on the floor, ankle-deep.

  The blood, the slick, crimson blood, still dripped from their eyes and mouths, coating every spot. He stared, frozen, his shoulders slumped, his mouth hanging slightly open. A cold sweat dripped down his face and back, and he struggled to hold air in his lungs, as if choking on smoke. The vile stench of the place made him violently ill, but he couldn't even gag, so still with fear he was. It felt like eons passed as he stood there in the room. His eyes traced it slowly, inspecting every inch of the skull closest to him. He noted even the slightest dimp or imperfection of the gray bone beneath silk-like skin. The shape of the man or woman that it belonged to, mattering no longer, all that remained were the black voidful eyes that stared back.

  A spark of air found his lungs. He gasped, and unable to take suffocation of the room any longer, he ran forward smashing his full weight into the door. But the next room was a mirror of the previous. The layout was identical, but the bodies were different. Gruesomely killed in similar fashion, some withered, some eviscerated but now some were burnt. The skull Constantine had stared at before was replaced by a slightly different one. He did not take the time to inspect this one however, his muscles were on fire and he kept running into the next door.

  As he now expected, the new room was filled with more bodies. The causes of death continued to become more elaborate with each room. Hanging, decapitations, gunshots, Constantine did not even look at the bodies anymore, instead just charging forward. But soon he noticed something else, besides the bodies. The wallpaper of the room changed, flipped between pure black, and pure white each time he entered a new room. The corridor of black and white rooms was interminable. Constantine, opened door after door, running through dozens, hundreds, thousands of rooms. An endless ocean of dead bodies drowned him in dread. He cried out, unleashing a desperate cry from the depths of his soul, a dying screaming against eternity.

  “OOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” His voice cried out, trembling, echoing with anguish. His lungs drained of breath, and yet he kept screaming. He screamed, hoping someone, anyone, would come and save him from this unending nightmare.

  “Would you be quiet?” A voice snapped him out of his delirium, and Constantine came to a full stop. He stared out in confusion, wiping his brow of sweat and his eyes of tears. The door he had just come through was no longer behind him, instead, the white walls that surrounded the room stretched out infinitely. He blinked, then he opened his eyes, and saw nothing. A pure, endless white void in every direction. There was no point of reference in space, save for the floor he was standing on. It was the floor to his dad’s saferoom. A candlelit chamber with marks scrawled in chalk all over the floor, and at the end of it, a cage with rusted iron bars. The voice came from within, and while Constantine did not recognize it right away, the subtle familiarity of it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

  “W-what…?”

  “You are screaming so loudly. As if you haven't gotten used to seeing dead bodies around…” The voice continued, a pair of hands now reaching to grab the bars of the box. “Or is that precisely why you’re screaming?” The voice said, coming further into the light, and revealing a small boy with dark raven hair.

  “Who… You… you’re…” Constantine mumbled in disbelief.

  “Yes. You. You seem surprised to see me.” The smaller Constantine replied back. His eyes were full of sorrow, and their gaze pierced right through Constantine. His young face was marked with bruises and cuts, scars of his abusive past. He looked away, unable to face their sight. “Ah, so that’s how it is then? You buried yourself so deep in your soul, that you can't even stand the sight of who you once were.”

  “Don’t talk like you fucking know me!”

  The child only gave a crooked eyebrow, not even dignifying him with a proper response.

  “Fuck you.” Constantine lashed out, still shaking from his earlier experiences. “What the hell is this place… what the hell is anything… why did I see… why were they talking…”

  “You know what it is, but like always, you’re avoiding it.” His younger self’s voice pierced through the silence.

  “Ghkh…” Constantine winced, clenching his fist and trying to block out the dark visions he had just witnessed. “Why… why am I remembering that night… why now? Why… was Lady Death there…?”

  Silence. The younger Constantine only tilted his head slightly, and kepting staring through the bars. His eyes were unblinking, and wrathful in their judgment. “You expect everything to just get handed to you, don’t you? Every answer, every solution.”

  “I’m just trying to make some sense of this!” He shouted.

  “You’re not trying hard enough. You never are.”

  “Fuck you… I don’t remember being such a little shit when I was you.”

  “You don’t remember anything. That’s your problem.” His younger self continued saying, his voice trembling with disdain. “If you actually tried, if you ever actually gave it your all, perhaps you wouldn’t be laying on the floor of a demonic prison, your brain drooling out of your ears and your friends dying with vain hopes of you saving them.”

  “SHUT UP!” Constantine yelled out, rushing and kicking the bars, making his younger self scurry back. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t say another word to me.”

  “Of course. There’s that absence of any self-control. You are like a wild dog, act without thought, consequences be damned.”

  “Why… are you doing this?”

  “Because I hate you. I am a hate-filled fiend, just like you. I hate you. I hate what you’ve become. I hate everything that you’ve done. Every choice you’ve made has only led us deeper into the depths of our hell. You’ve wrapped your neck in a comfortable chain of lies. Link by link, lie by lie, promise by promise, you built your own noose. And now, the chair has finally been kicked out from under you. Here I am, watching you fall in the moments before your death, thankful that its all finally over.” His younger self’s voice cut through him like a poison-tipped dagger.

  Constantine stumbled back, tripping on a pile of papers and collapsing. The echo of his own words still lingered in the air like a venomous gale. Their sinful silence pressed down upon him, choking the breath out of him. He could not take it any longer, and a soft cry could be heard after a few moments. “I’m… so… afraid.” He finally said out loud. A fearful terrified smile lingered across his lips, his pearly tears dripping down his face. “I thought I could be what everyone wanted of me. Some hero… I thought if I pretended long enough I could become one. But no matter what I do I feel like I’m nothing but a fuck-up.” He bit his lip to stop it from quivering, and stared at his younger mirror.

  “Failure.” His younger self said. “Delusional. Weak.”

  “S-stop, please… I beg of you… I’m sorry for… what I’ve done to you.”

  “You still do not understand do you?” The child hung his head in disappointment. “It’s not what you’ve done to me, its what you’ve done to yourself. Allow me to show you something.”

  Without a moment of hesitation, the floor they were on seemed to transfer itself through that infinite white void, until the two of them found themselves before the gates of a massive cathedral. Constantine wiped his face, looking up at the majestic piece of architecture that floated above the nothingness.

  “W-what is this?” He asked.

  “That which was taken from you by your own hand.” His younger self replied. “Do you even remember her name, Constantine? The one who saved you when you needed her most, and the one who you abandoned when she needed you instead.”

  “I never… I just… I just was not strong enough to save her…”

  “You left her to die in the mud and filth. You abandoned her, and let her bear excruciating suffering that no one should endure alone.”

  “Shut… UP!” He yelled, his throat aching with rage. ”Shut up, shut up! You bastard I had no choice, I wasn’t strong enough…”

  “Go inside.” His voice commanded, slicing through his mumbling without mercy. “Bear witness to the life you could have had, had you never met her.”

  Constantine stood up, and walked towards the massive doors. He pressed himself against them, straining his muscles with all his might, and pushing them open. Inside was a wedding. Hundreds of people sitting in their pews, row after row after row, all the way down to the altar. A deafening orchestral organ piece began to play the moment he stepped inside. Everyone turned to him, and just like before, their faces were faded, absent. But as Constantine walked forward across the red carpet, he realized who they were. Their clothes, the shapes of their bodies and their hairstyles. These specters were more recognizable than those from before.

  These are all… old acquaintances. He thought to himself. “These are friends from school… old family… people I knew from before.” He then said out loud. But as he approached the altar steps, he stopped. The crowd was now filled with people he did not expect, and some he would never wish to see in such a place. At first, he recognized newer faces, like Insect, or Nathaniel sitting in the pews. Madame with her daughter, Sean with his son, and even Damien himself could be seen further down. Then next to him he noticed the silhouette of Laurence, and next to him a man he did not recognize.

  Why would they be here…? Is this… my wedding…?

  Ahead of him, he saw Katherine, with Octavian beside her. Worst of all, next to him stood someone he did not recognize fully, but a strange familiarity made his legs tremble in fear. His gaze moved further up, and he realized next to that person stood Mephisto, and besides him, a lady whose purple hair shone with such strength and intensity that it almost blinded him. He continued forward, and noticed a row of people he had never seen before. The closest was a being with a strange, plant-like dress, made of leaves and bark. Countless spiderwebs were draped over her like a veil, obscuring her face and head. Constantine shuddered, and continued inspecting. Next to her was a woman with long, pink hair. At the center of her forehead, was a blood-red mark that he did not recognize, but nonetheless it filled him with dread. Lastly, behind her was an incredibly thin almost skeletal man, with very short hair stained red like blood.

  “These… these people are all demons…” He blurted. “W-why would they all be here? I’ve never even… seen some of these… monsters, before.” He kept saying in disbelief, his eyes scanning the crowd once more to make sure. He quickly noticed dozens of other demons he had encountered before.

  “These are the shadows your life has touched, Constantine. Good or otherwise.” His younger self’s voice answered, as if he was still next to him despite being outside of the church.

  Confused, Constantine turned around and walked up the steps, only to stop once more. A nun stood on the highest step, holding a book. Stitches covered her face, and below the waist she had a long serpentine tail that stretched beyond his sight. With a gulp, he turned away, and his eyes went wide, seeing the being that was to be his officiant. Although his face was blank, unrecognizable, the three straight spikes that protruded from his head were unmistakable.

  “No… n-no… not him…” He said softly, his breath quickening with fear. He could still envision those terrifying red eyes in their rightful place. Their petrifying gaze, even when absent, still shook him to his core.

  “Is something wrong?” A calm, melodious voice came from behind him. The voice was like a cleansing spell, breaking the curse that the eyes had placed upon him.

  Constantine’s head spun around, and down the steps on the red carpet, he saw two people, his bride and his best man. He recognized his best friend, Evan, dressed in a stunning gray suit. He was leading the bride down the altar, given that she did not have anyone else important enough to fill that role. Constantine’s entire body went numb as he saw her, her jet black hair flowing underneath her pristine white veil. It was her. The one he loved, the one he had always loved. The sight of her washed away all the fear that had gripped him seeing Asmodeus’ visage. And yet… as he stood there, in complete bewilderment. He could not remember her name.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Constantine?” She asked. “Is everything okay?”

  With a trembling hand he reached up, just barely out of reach from her cheek. The scars were still there, but he did not touch her.

  “Why… why would you torment me like this…” He said, his eyes welling with rageful tears. “I’m… I’m so sorry…”

  “It’s okay…” She said back.

  “No, you don’t understand. I… I took this away from you. You’re… gone because of me. I thought… I could take you back but I wasn’t able to.” He hung his head low, so she could not see him crying. “This is just a hollow illusion, you’re out there, somewhere, hurting. And nothing I can do will bring you back. I cannot even remember your name… Why… is this a curse?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Constantine… My love… Do you remember what you called me when we first met?” She said quietly, leaning forward and whispering in his ear. “What name you whispered to me when the night was long, but we looked up at the stars above with hope for tomorrow? What word told me you love in a way no one else could?”

  “Ah… Of course I remember… it was…” He said, softly leaning back and whispering that word in her ears.

  “Perhaps this is an illusion, but I know, whatever wrong you have done, you will make it right. I will never stop loving you, no matter what happens. That is my truth, and it will forever be so.”

  “I will save you. I won’t stop until I do. I don’t know how, but I will not stop until I will save you.”

  “You will find a way. I know you will.”

  With that, he turned and rushed down the aisle, making his way out of the church. The heads of everyone turned to follow him. In an instant however, they all vanished. All the lights of the cathedral were snuffed out, and Constantine saw only the dark aisle stretching before him. A cold chill blew through his hair. He saw a broken figure, laying limply on the ground. Walking closer, he saw a body face-down. Blood pooled beneath the lifeless cadaver, already dried and staining the clothes it wore. Constantine peered closer, noticing that the corpse had a perfect circular hole in its chest, all the way out through its back. With a trembling, frightened finger, he wiped away some of the blood that covered the body’s face. He noticed then that what he thought was red hair was just a crimson stain that covered the victim’s silver locks.

  Constantine stepped back, a shadow of horror casting across his face. As he almost tripped on the steps of the altar, he backed into the officiant’s stand. But something was wrong, for he hit something else in between. Something that should not have been there. With wide, dread-filled eyes, he turned his head and saw two horrific tendrils sprouting from his shoulder blades. Like the branches of a charred tree, they were coated in a congealed black blood, dripping down onto hundreds of hanging arms. The arms were decayed, flayed skinless, and glistening with tenebrous striated muscle. At the center of each hand was a singular, blazing white eye. Eyes that revealed only misery and death. Eyes of frayed darklight, twitching without irises and betraying only perpetual shadows. Hundreds of pale eyes stared at Constantine from upon crimson wings.

  He wanted to flee, to hide before their piercing judgment, but he was frozen, petrified by their gaze. His head pulsed with the throbbing torment of their shining lights, and he clasped his hands upon his forehead. Covering his own eyes did not stop the suffering, and Constantine unleashed another scream of anguish and excruciation. He felt the skin on his head splitting open, peeling away from his black-tainted skull. Within the depths of his blackened orbits, two pale eyes flickered to light.

  No sooner had he felt his soul rendered from his body, malformed into a horrifying new form, that he found himself collapsing onto the floor of his father’s safe-room once again. The cathedral and the twisted new form he had been cursed with instantly vanished, replaced once more by endless whiteness.

  “How disappointing.” His younger self said from his cage.

  Constantine remained splayed out on the floor for what felt like days. He just kept taking deep breaths of air, trying to calm himself down, to remember where he was, and what he was doing. Eventually, once he felt ready, he pushed himself off the ground. He strained his muscles, forcing his body if not to rise fully, at least to look up at his doppelganger.

  “You bastard…” He began, his voice still hoarse from the screaming. ”I knew it. I knew this is all this was. You’re just one of Asmodeus’ tricks. Trying to torture me with visions of my past… with my failures, and whatever the hell THIS was…”

  His other self shook his head dejectedly. “After all that time spent sitting there in quiet contemplation, that’s your conclusion? That’s what you think? That I’m trying to torture you? This is the truth you’re avoiding Constantine, the truth that you’ve always been avoiding. You did this with your own hand. The choices you’ve made, what you saw in there is what you’ve lost, forever. That is the fate that awaits you.”

  “You’re a fucking LIAR!” Constantine screamed.

  “Are you truly that delusional?”

  “Who cares if I’m delusional? Why wouldn’t I be?” Constantine lashed out, and as he shouted, his feelings all poured out of him like a waterfall. Bloody tears, and sweat poured down his face as he spoke.The whiteness of the void began to seep into the room, and as it did, it turned into the same shade of crimson as that which dripped upon his cheek.

  “Reality itself isn’t even what I thought it was. In the past year I’ve seen things, done things… felt things I never imagined possible. This cursed world I’ve been dragged into… Well, turns out it was just the same old rotten world I had always lived in. My eyes were just opened to its true shape. The hell that I saw in there is just one of the many horrific things I’ve endured ever since. Because of it I… I’ve done things… I’ve lost the person I cared about most, despite trying with every ounce of my being, of my soul to keep her by my side. She’s gone. And I can’t even remember her name… I just wanted to save her… I just wanted to hope again...” He finished, catching his breath.

  “Why? You’re not a savior. You’re just a pathetic fool hiding from the truth.”

  “That’s exactly why. I just… didn’t want anyone else to feel the pain I felt. The pain you feel. I… I never forgot that cage you’re in. I just buried it, deeper and deeper. That’s what I’ve always done. I hide away my pain, hoping that one day I can find a time and place to let it out.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll soon be free. Just embrace it. Just stop fighting, and embrace the truth.”

  “That’s what you want then?” Constantine said, his eyes now alight with a spark of defiance. “You want me to just give up, to turn away? I… But that’s not what she would have wanted. She was right, she believed in me, she still believes in me even now…”

  “Yes. That’s all that you’re good for. Give up, stay down on the cold hard floor, and let the pain go away.”

  “No. I refuse. I will no longer hide from the pain, I won’t hide from the proof that I am alive. That I loved someone, even if they’re gone. I remember.” He said, his eyes alight with a singular spark of pure hope and love. ”I remember her name now, it was Nikolai. Nikolai Isaga.”

  “Just accept your end.”

  “No. I cannot accept that truth. That is not what I believe in. Not anymore. What you say, what Damien said. I believe we can fight for more than just the right to not die. No matter how painful life is, no matter all the fucked up shit I’ve done, or will do, I have to keep moving forward. I have to hope that a brighter day can come.”

  “Are you even listening to yourself?” His younger self screamed. He jumped up, grabbing the rusted bars as if he was trying to rip them apart. “You’re an idiot! You’re nothing but talk! What can your pathetic hope do in the face of such insurmountable despair? Blind belief will only get you killed! You weren't even looking at her when she died.”

  “NO! I HAVE TO HOPE!” Constantine shouted defiantly. “ I HAVE TO BELIEVE THERE'S A REASON TO KEEP FIGHTING! I HAVE TO HOPE THERE CAN BE GOOD THAT OVERCOMES THIS EVIL! And if that is a lie, I would rather die trying to make it real. I will find a way to will the very laws of this world to make it so. For any alternative is too horrific to imagine. I would rather become that false hope that everyone can believe in than let the world drown in despair.”

  “Another empty promise-”

  “Don’t lecture me about my promises.” Constantine said, clutching his chest with his hand, his nails digging deep into his skin. “I know them all all-too well. I know that I swore I’d save my friends, I swore that I’d bring Katherine back and most of all, I swore that I’d save Nikolai from her fate. And despite not knowing how, I will find a way to fulfill those promises. You called them my chain of lies, but that’s wrong. They are my true strength. These promises are all I have, and I will not rest until I’ve fulfilled them.”

  “How can you achieve the power to save ANYONE, if you aren’t willing to accept your own truth? With what power will you be able to defeat a demon like Asmodeus?” His younger self called out, his screams echoing with despair. “Despite your pathetic excuses, you’re still avoiding it! Don’t give me that trash about hope and belief. When all you’ve been doing is hiding like a coward. You can’t even save yourself.”

  “That's the truth isn't it?” Constantine said, kneeling down before the cage. ”That’s what my mistake was all this time. The acts I’ve committed, the suffering I’ve endured, I turned away from it, thinking I could bury it. I thought I could change easily, become that which I needed to be without pain, but I understand it now. I cannot move forward if I hide away my pain. What our father did to us… It’ll stay with us forever. The truth is then… in my futile attempt to save Nikolai… thousands upon thousands lost their lives. Even… Antonio, the man who took me in, the man who was like a father to me more than my own blood. My best friend’s father. He died because of me. And I… didn’t even mourn for his death. I tried to ignore the fact, push it away, hide it somewhere deep inside me. Insect was right, you too, were right… I was just too… pathetic to accept that fact. Their blood is on my hands. I am as guilty as the balefire that made their bodies ash.”

  Constantine looked up at himself, and saw the child in the cage crying softly, finally accepting the truth he had shied away from so long. He felt the tears stream down his cheek as well, and could not stop himself from crying alongside himself.

  “You could have saved them. You could have saved her. But you didn't, you weren’t strong enough.” His younger self screamed at him, his eyes filled with hate and fury.

  “No. I wasn’t. And I might not be strong enough still. I’m sorry.”

  “You expect me to… forgive you…?” His voice became softer.

  Constantine reached into the cage, grabbing his younger self by the shoulders. “You don’t have to forgive anything. I deserve the pain, I can take it. I’m sorry for blaming you for everything. Its okay…” He said, pulling him into a tight embrace, and as he did, the iron bars of the box melted away. “I can forgive, so you don’t have to.”

  “I feel… weak and afraid…” His younger self said, breaking their silent cries. ”No matter what good I try doing, no matter how hard I fight, I fear my vows and promises will be broken. No matter how much I try to save and hope, in the end I bring nothing but ruin.”

  Constantine’s thoughts were cast by dark clouds once again. Was it true? Was he doomed to fail, no matter how hard he would strive against fate? Despite everything, despite his vows and promises, was it truly all destined for ruin?

  But as he contemplated this truth, his thoughts raced back to his friends, those he had been separated from, and those waiting for him in the depths of the prison. He felt the image of a bright light forming in his mind, a savior cutting through the darkness. While trapped in this white abyss, he had almost forgotten the one promise he had managed to fulfill. Protecting her was the only promise he had, with difficulty, managed to hold true still. He remembered the name of the one that had been separated from him, and felt invigorated. He needed her, and she needed him, now more than ever. Uriel Fladium was her name, and the thought of her now filled him with hope. Ever since he had bitten into her heart, their souls had merged, the two of them became one. Some traces of her still remained. Even now, at his darkest of moments, in this limbo of his soul, he felt her wings wrapped around him, wiping away his tears.

  Constantine hugged his younger self tighter, trying to impart that same hope onto him. “That may be so, but that doesn’t matter now does it? That fear you feel, perhaps that is the pain we must endure for the sins we’ve committed.” He focused his tranquil fury, willing himself to grit his teeth painfully hard and force himself to stand. “No, for their sake, I will not let fear grip me again. That does not matter anymore. I see the fire in your eyes, and I feel that same fire in my soul now. I’m not gonna die in some prison in fear and terror. If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna do it trying to save my friends from the hell they’re in. I finally understand what you’ve been trying to tell me all this time about the truth. It is…”

  “Truth… is death, Constantine.” His younger self said, looking up at him with wet, tearful eyes.

  “Yes, but it is also liberating hope.” He answered back. “I know now… Madame knew, and I ignored her warnings. Just like I ignored everything else. I will die, very soon, won’t I? That’s what you’ve been trying to tell me. That's why you’ve been so afraid.”

  “But how…? How can you fulfill all your promises, how can you fulfill all that hope, if you’re walking straight towards your doom? Was all that bravado of yours empty talk? Why fight it, why not die here and now?”

  “Why do anything? For the sake of hope.” Constantine said, smiling. “One single act is all I need. I need to stand. I need to face this fear. I need to fight until I can fight no more, no matter how painful it may be. I cannot abandon those that I care about more than anything. I’m not scared of living.”

  “I’m…not as confident as you. I’m scared… I don’t want to go…”

  “Me too, but…” Constantine places his palm upon his chest once again, feeling his heartbeat quickening. “We’ve faced death before, haven’t we? Multiple times actually. I have a good feeling, perhaps the gift Lady Death granted me that night, perhaps this is what its been for.” He said with a nod.

  Constantine looked at his younger self, watching the painful scars and bruises on his face slowly healing. His jet black hair slowly faded to a pale silver, almost blending in with the whiteness of the walls behind them. He watched as his younger self grew and changed, slowly turning into the man that he was now. His pained, tired gaze now filled with hope again. Soon, it was like he was staring into a mirror.

  “That was quite, trippy. Hey, me, you know more than me so I must ask… the moment we die… what do you think will happen?” Constantine asked himself, trying not to let his worries and doubts show any longer.

  “I don’t know. But I know one thing for sure, we will bear witness to the face of truth. Perhaps in doing so, we will achieve power beyond any foul wickedness these demons possess.” His other self said with a confident nod. “And even if we don’t, at least we gave them hell.”

  “Is that so… you’d think God or whoever’s in charge would give us that power before we die when it would actually be useful… heh.” Constantine smiled brightly at himself. As his other self began to fade away, he turned back to him and asked.

  “Before I go, I don’t remember anymore, and I didn’t hear you in the church so I must ask, what was it that we called Nikolai? What was that word?”

  “Of course.” Constantine smiled. “It was Cherry.”

  He watched as his other self smiled back. Slowly, he faded from sight, leaving Constantine alone in the white void. But as he sat there, kneeling, a blueish darkness began to stretch across the infinite nothingness. His eyes slowly adjusted as natural light once more filled his retinas. Air, once more filled his lungs, and life once more flowed through his veins. He felt his muscles tense from the strange position he was standing in and he heard the low buzz of the neon lights of the corridor. But most important of all, he saw the sheen of his holy dagger on the ground.

  He wanted to reach for it, but he felt stuck. His body was not obeying him fully, not yet. He just stared at it, and saw his eyes staring back. The color of the blade made them seem red, bloodshot, but he knew that to not be the case. Somehow, the sight of himself now filled him with hope once again. How much time had passed? How long had he been unconscious? These questions now nagged at his mind, but he steeled himself, no longer allowing panic or madness to wildly act first in his mind.

  “Come on.” He said, barely a whisper. “Reach for it. Come on, for the sake of all those promises you made, you have to keep them, remember?” He said, trying to reach forward, to stand from the ground, but his body disobeyed him, remaining motionless.

  “Reach for it, DAMN YOU!” Constantine shouted, before he took one dizzyingly deep breath, and exhaled.

  His soul ached, yearned for rebirth, and with that fire of hope alight inside him, he willed himself to reach forward, and grab the dagger. His fingers wrapped around the blue hilt, the cold runes against his skin were somehow comforting once again. He tightened his grip, and then slammed his dagger into the wall beside him, the edge of the knife stabbing into the metal wall as if through silk. A moment passed, tangible proof that he had done what seemed impossible. Conjuring up whatever strength he could, he pulled himself up. His hands trembled, but he pushed through until he was up on his feet. With a sigh he ran his hand through his silver hair, and looked on towards the darkness.

  His eyes knew fear no longer.

  And the Prince opened his eyes, the water surrounding him, choking the life out of his lungs.

  The Tale Of The Prince And The Red Door: Chapter III

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