Chapter Text
For the longest time, The Manor was empty except for Dark. Not for a lack of trying, of course, Dark had done everything by now. He had tried smashing windows, breaking doors, punching walls, cutting drapes. That was all under Celine’s influence before she went to sleep. When Damien had woken up, he had poured over every book in the library, every floorboard, every panel on the wall, and yet nothing had given any clues. Thus, Dark had just given up. No use beating a dead horse.
As for… the two… Celine had been asleep for quite some time now. She still had some influence over Dark, but it was few and far between; it only happened when she stirred. Therefore, Damien had the most sway over Dark’s thoughts and actions. Unfortunately for Damien, there was also The Entity. The Entity was an enigma. It never showed itself or had any thoughts of its own, but its control over the body and mind was inescapable. Dark could only describe it as wading through a swamp. He could have all the intention in the world to walk towards land, but unless the murky mud-filled waters below cooperated, Dark could go nowhere. Thus, Dark was not Damien or Celine or Damien-Celine. Dark was Dark, a being made of conglomerated consciousnesses that sometimes fought bitterly for control, and sometimes had no fight in them at all.
Sometimes, once every three years or so, Wilford visited. Attempts to escape with him proved futile, as it seemed only Wilford could bend reality to his will. At least Wilford was happy to help, a being of chaos as he was. If anything, Wilford provided a sense of stimulation and a look into the outside world. Wilford could move through space as he pleased, but he could never quite master time. Thus, he would bring back lavish stories about the decade the world beyond The Manor was currently in. Unfortunately, the only information Dark would get was the most popular celebrities, music, and style of dance. Wilford wasn’t very interested in anything else, besides murder and torture methods. So Dark guessed he got updated information on that too, even if it was unhelpful.
“You know, Damien,” Wilford said on one of his visits, scratching his chin with the edge of a knife, “you could always try to-” Wilford gestures wildly with his knife. “-blow The Manor up?”
“It’s Dark,” Dark said, ignoring the question.
“Then open a window!” Wilford chirped, smirking like the asshole he was, fully aware of what Dark had meant. Wilford stabbed his knife into the mahogany table. “Seriously, open a window, start a collection, paint the wall, invite someone over, something! This place is as drab as a presidential parade! Did you hear about that? The president getting shot? Right before I was going to interview him too, how sad.”
Dark glared at Wilford. “Did you assassinate the president?”
“No!” Wilford shouted, a hand over his heart in mock offense. “At least, not that I remember. You’re dodging my helpful advice!”
“I cannot change anything about The Manor, you know this,” Dark said, turning a page in his book, thoroughly bored.
“Not with that attitude you can’t! I’ll get someone in here, just you wait!” Wilford declared, grabbing his knife and stomping out of the room, huffing something about psychedelics. Dark turned another page.
-
A normal day for Dark was thus: leave The Void, or “wake up,” as humans would call it, wander around The Manor, putting trinkets back in their place and dusting off the upholstery, decide which “hobby” he would engage in, his options being reading or thinking, and then return to The Void at night. It wasn’t much, but it wasn’t like Dark could get bored. Dark rarely felt anything at all, besides the hint of dissonance that followed him wherever he went.
The only change in Dark’s schedule was when he visited the mirror.
The mirror had been moved to the room… you had stayed in all those years ago. Dark couldn’t stand to pass by it every day. The crack that ran through the wood and glass seemed to taunt him, threaten him, whisper to him. Moving it was the first real decision Dark had made after the escape attempts stopped. The visits were always the same; Dark would enter the bedroom (that he hadn’t touched, not even to dust) and sit on the bed, facing the mirror he had hung on the wall. Dark would stare at the inky blackness of the mirror that seemed to draw in light and trap it instead of reflecting it, almost like a black hole. Dark couldn’t see anything, not even his reflection, but he knew you were there. Watching. Staring at Dark like Dark was staring at you.
Nobody ever said a word. Nobody needed to.
-
(You appreciated his visits, even if he never said anything. Dark would sit on that damned bed, and the two of you would stare at each other, sometimes for hours on end, although you could only tell time by the light coming in from the windows behind him. Sometimes, you would even brush the glass with your essence, not that Dark could see that. Or, if he could, he never said anything. Dark always looked the same, white suit with a black dress shirt and tie, grey skin, red and blue waves wafting around his body, the blue always stronger and brighter than the red. That wasn’t what bothered you, though; you rather thought he was just as handsome as he used to be. What bothered you were his eyes. What once was brown was now black, fully black, with no pupils or specks of light to be found. His sclerae would shift from white to black periodically. You had only looked at them dead-on once, and a shiver had wracked through you. You hadn’t known you could shiver, considering you didn’t have nerves anymore, and it rattled you so badly you decided to always look at the bridge of his nose, or his left eyebrow, or sometimes his cheekbone. Dark was horrible company, but he was better than looking out into your little box in The Void, where you couldn’t see anything but the inky blackness of pure nothingness.)
-
According to the latest Wilford visit, the year was around 1997 when Celine stirred harder than she ever had before. Dark felt it immediately. It was like an earthquake, shifting the ground below him as he stumbled, the red aura around him growing brighter.
“Still in this damned manor, I see,” Celine whispered in Dark’s head.
“Ladies shouldn’t curse,” Dark mumbled as he stumbled to his “room” so he could more easily enter The Void. His body felt heavier, as if Celine was weighing on his shoulders.
“Fuck you,” Celine whispered, causing Dark to quirk the slightest of smiles as he closed the door behind him and promptly crumpled to the floor.
The Void greeted Dark like the embrace of Y- a lover, wrapping its inky arms around Dark and dragging him into the pitch black. Celine stood in front of him, but not all of her. Her form was wispy and shimmering, wavering like the heatwaves in the desert. She wasn’t awake, but she was close to it. Dark closed his eyes as his form shifted into a more Damien-like body, The Entity melting from his form and coagulating into a smoke at his and Celine’s feet. They paid it no mind.
“Hello, Damien.” Celine smiled, her eyes warming.
“Hello, Celine.” Damien’s lip quirked, but nothing more. He had been so close to The Entity for so long that, even as the closest approximation to “himself” he could be, anything more than apathy was difficult to express.
“You continue to change, little brother,” Celine said, sinking onto the plush chair The Entity had summoned. Damien sat opposite her.
“Hard not to with a millennia-old demon living with you all the time,” Damien said. The Entity shifted under him.
Celine frowned. “Have you figured a way out? Have you seen anything from him yet?”
“No,” Damien said. “I tried, but nothing happened. Even William, or, Wilford now, tried to help, although his method of helping is just shooting things and hoping something will be behind it.”
“How long have I been asleep?” Celine’s eyes widened a fraction.
“Depending on the year, you’ve been asleep for about 60 years, give or take.” Damien looked to the left, the telltale sign he was thinking.
“And William is still alive? Was he also possessed?” Celine fidgeted with her fingers, the telltale sign she was thinking.
“Yes and no, for both questions. He’s not possessed, more influenced by The Void. He can shift through space at will, but it cost him his sanity and any semblance of moral compass. He goes by Wilford now. Calling him William is… not ideal for either party involved.” Damien had been stabbed multiple times by the ex-colonel in the 40s before Damien got the name change down. The wounds always disappeared in the morning, at least, and Damien never bled.
Celine hummed, her frown growing deeper. “And neither of you have found a way out?”
“No,” Damien said.
“But you’ve been trying,” Celine said sarcastically, her left eyebrow raising.
“I’ve done everything I could,” Damien protested. The Entity swirled beneath his feet.
Celine scoffed. “I know we haven’t talked for 60 years, and you may be all buddy-buddy with the demon now, but I still know you, Damien. You probably read the books in the library, wandered around looking at nothing, and moved a few paintings. That’s not trying.”
“I don’t have to prove myself to you, Celine,” Damien scoffed, starting to frown. Celine’s greatest weakness was her pride. She was a kind person, but she always had to be right. And she would be right, no matter what she had to do. When The Entity interrupted her plans and betrayed you Celine was furious for years, up until she had gone to sleep. It seemed that anger still lingered.
“Do you not want to get out?” Celine yelled, slamming the armrest of her chair with her fist. “Do you not want to go find that fucking bastard? Get him back for everything he’s done to us?”
“Of course I do, but there’s no need to drive myself mad doing things I know won’t yield any results. This manor has a mind of its own; you know this. It does what it wants, and what it wants is to keep us here.” Damien ground his teeth, annoyed. The Entity swirled faster beneath his feet, tendrils flicking upward.
Celine stared at Damien, calculating. “What about them? Are they still alive? Still in the mirror?”
The Entity rushed up over Damien, and Dark opened his eyes in his bedroom.
“You can’t run forever,” Celine whispered, the echo growing quieter. The red dimmed around Dark, and Celine fell back asleep.
-
(You hadn’t heard the voice of another human being in lifetimes, so when he spoke, you heard it.
“Hello, Y/N.” He spoke around his syllables with a twisted grin.
What do you want? You didn’t really have a voice, so the words echoed in The Void all around you and your visitor.
“No need to be so hostile! I’m only here for a chat.” He stalked around your little box, seeming taller than he ever had when alive.
I have nothing to say to you.
“Well, that’s no way to treat an old friend! Just five minutes of your time, hun,” he promised.
Fine, you snarled, as if you had any way to know how long it’s been. He knew this, of course, and his smirk grew wider.
“That’s better. I’ve been planning something. The outside world has advanced so much in the past decades you’ve been in here. I finally have a way to reach the audience I deserve.” He lounged in the air, one knee over the other, as if he sat on a throne.
You deserve nothing! the echo of your voice roared.
He winced in mock offense. “Ouch! Bitter, much? I’m not even the one who did this to you! Shouldn’t you be angry at whatever that amalgamation is instead of little old me?”
Your essence shuddered around the box, almost like you were scratching at the walls of your enclosure, desperate to get out. You were so angry that you didn’t bother to respond.
“Tough crowd. Anyway, I’ve come here to strike a deal of sorts,” He unwound himself to a normal standing position, holding out his hand. “Come with me. Be my… sidekick of sorts. My right hand. You’ll get a body back, you’ll be able to live again, and you’ll be able to watch as I build something bigger than anything you could ever imagine.”
The first thing I would do with the hands of whoever you murdered would be to wring your neck until the light leaves your eyes.
“That’s harsh,” he pouted, frowning.
Get out! You pushed at him with everything you had, and he laughed as he was shot from where he stood and into the unknown.
“Have your way, but I will be back,” he giggled as his form disappeared.)
-
The mirror began to shake .
Dark heard it within his skull, rattling around like an earthquake. It felt like the whole manor was shaking, as if the walls and The Void itself were quaking around Dark as he scrambled through the hallways. Dark threw open the door to your old room and skidded to a stop in front of the mirror.
It’s you.
You shook, waves of essence quivering in the vague shape of a shadow.
-
(It was Dark.
Since he became Dark, you had never seen him this distraught. His eyebrows pitched up in distress, his hands twitching towards the surface of the glass and back, almost like he feared to touch it. The sight made your heart clench. You pounded on the glass even harder.
Dark! He’s coming! )
-
Dark didn’t know what to do; he’d never seen a form in the mirror, much less watched it shake like this. Your form writhed around the mirror like a fleeing animal. Dark sat there dumbly, shaking his head incredulously. “What am I supposed to do, Y/N?”
-
(You wailed at the sound of your name coming from his lips for the first time in decades, maybe a century at this point. He had to know. He must know.
I don’t know! God… Dark… )
-
Your form slumped in defeat before trembling even more ferociously, the wood of the mirror creaking. If Dark were human, he would’ve jumped back at the sheer intensity of your form and the mirror’s movements. Then, something compelled Dark to reach out and brush his fingers against the glass.
Several things happen at once. The glass cracked more, hair-thin spiderwebs forming around Dark’s hand, and The Void rushed to meet it. Dark seemed to split within himself, his limbs and neck twitching uncontrollably, his aura flashing out every which way. A ringing noise tore through the room, and if Dark didn’t know better he would’ve thought his ears were bleeding.
“Dark!” your voice boomed, the bass of it clanging against every surface of the room. “He’s coming! Mark is coming! He-”
And then you vanished. The mirror stopped shaking. The room went quiet.
And Dark began to feel something. Something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Rage.