You were nothing but this little child, perhaps two years young? He took his pity strong, embracing you to become his new kid alongside of his Paradise cult, where members adored their leaders new companion. His devotion to raising you with a head high of fears was also indulged of his manipulation. The older you’ve become the more pressure he sets on your shoulders.

Douma had tolerated you for so long only to make your innocence shatter with the obligation of being a demon. His hands outstretched with his blood, held almost as a cup for you to drink. The stench was strong, a metallic odor shriveled your father’s hands, though he sees it as a pool of blessings in disguise.

“You must become a demon to be stronger,” It was nothing but deception. You made it to the top, now you must become his completed masterpiece. As darkness consumed your father’s chambers, it also consumed the shattering reality of your world.