.the contract ii.
The street was littered with black feathers and blood. The stench was unbearable, the sight was devastating. . . and in some sick, horrifying way, to some twisted mind-altered being, the scene could be some sort of beautiful, but of course morbid, painting.
Eventually, it did become beautiful, but I was seeing everything through tears, so I could hardly notice. The happy feeling consumed me, and instantly, I recognized it. I was filled with such joy that I nearly laughed out loud, but instead, I smiled, my tears now turning bittersweet, and I cried for the barrier.
And it came out. Slowly, but certainly. I knew it was probably too late, that the bleeding demon beside me who probably had lost his last hope for life seconds ago, would never heal from this. He was already dead. His chest had no rise, his breathing was ceased, his body was lifeless.