POV Y/N

The chants of the archons burned the air, releasing a delicate, high-pitched voice, fragile and crystalline.

In a futile motion, his pale chest seemed suspended,
while the piano shattered the atmosphere, reducing the vibrant clamor to a lifeless whisper.

Thus, the performance began. He moved forward, one foot after the other,
letting his hips be possessed by the dance.

This macabre dance was sinister and icy, soft and fragile all at once.
His coffee-colored hair swayed to the rhythm of the lyre strings,
glistening with the crimson liquid spilling from my chest.

I felt the object of my terrors pierce my heart.

The crowd lost its voice, plunging the atmosphere into a funereal silence.
My trembling vision still captured the precise movement of his slippers on the stage,
in cruel harmony with the melody.

Then, everything stopped. I felt a weight brush against my hips,
and the only thing that remained in my memory was the unnaturally exquisite curve of his lips.

The devil was on stage.

My vision faded in a brutal decrescendo,
and that was the last image I ever saw.

{Hello, here is the first chapter.}