What do you desire?" the being asks once more, its voice a chilling whisper that sends tremors down Enry's spine.
Enry tries to respond, but his throat tightens. A violent cough racks his body, and blood spews from his mouth, staining the floor. His vision blurs as his consciousness begins to fade.
The creature moves closer, its hand reaching for Enry's head with a deliberate slowness. As the being's fingers make contact, Enry feels an invasion of his mind. Memories flood back in a chaotic rush, the creature's hand sinking into his skull as if searching for something hidden deep within.
Moments later, the hand withdraws, and Enry feels a fleeting sense of relief. But it's short-lived. He becomes acutely aware of his dire situation as the being reaches out again. Its hand stops just in front of Enry's face.
With a sudden snap of its fingers, Enry is engulfed in darkness. He appears in a pitch-black room, no light, no escape. A voice echoes around him, the same voice that sent tremors down his spine, and now it whispers from the shadows, amplifying his terror.
"Do you desire a fresh start?" the being asks, its voice a chilling whisper that sends shivers down Enry's spine.
Enry, trembling, confirms his wish for a new beginning. As the words leave his mouth, the being's smile widens into a sinister grin.
"You wish to start over," the being continues, its tone dripping with malice, "but to get what you desire, you must give me something in return." The malevolent grin deepens, causing Enry's mind to go blank with fear.
"You must give me what you hold most dear," the being commands, pulling Enry back to reality with a jolt. "W-what do you mean?" Enry stammers, his voice quivering.
The being's eyes burn with impatience. "You know exactly what I mean, ENRY!" it roars, the force of its voice making Enry's knees buckle. "GIVE ME WHAT YOU HOLD DEAR!"
"What... what is that?" Enry asks, desperation and dread seeping into his voice.
The being leans in closer, its breath a chilling whisper that brushes against Enry's skin, mere inches from his face. "Your soul," it hisses. As soon as the words leave its mouth, a deafening snap reverberates through the air, plunging Enry into a disorienting darkness.
When Enry's vision clears, he finds himself in a room with walls, floor, and ceiling as black as the void, suffocating in their oppressive darkness. In the center of the room stands a table, its surface glistening a deep, sinister red, like freshly spilled blood. Two chairs flank the table, their presence both ominous and foreboding.
Enry blinks and the being reappears, but its form has changed. It now stands tall a few inchs under 3 meters, almost human in shape, dressed in immaculate black dress pants and a matching shirt. A hat, half white and half black, perches on its head at an unsettling angle. Its eyes are the most horrifying of all—pools of inky black that seem to pierce directly into Enry's very soul, unearthing every hidden fear and secret.
"Sit," the being commands, its voice echoing in the abyss. Enry blinks again, and suddenly he is seated at the table, his body trembling with terror. The being remains standing, its presence towering and oppressive.
With deliberate, almost ceremonious movements, the being produces a piece of parchment from the shadows. The paper appears to be made of human flesh, its surface marred with veins and a sickly, pale hue. The edges were ragged.
Enry's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing like a drum in the suffocating darkness. The horrifying scent of blood that emanated from the parchment reminded him of his time in war—the metallic tang of fear and violence that clung to him like a specter.
As he stared at the parchment, memories flooded his mind: the chaos of battle, the screams of the wounded, and the stench of death that hung heavy in the air. Enry's hands trembled uncontrollably, his fingers hovering inches above the quill that lay beside the cursed document.
The being's eyes bore into him, unrelenting and cold, its grin widening with each passing moment of hesitation. "Sign," it repeated, its voice a whisper that cut through the silence like a blade.
Enry's breath came in shallow gasps as he fought against the rising tide of terror threatening to consume him. He knew the consequences of signing away his soul, yet the allure of a fresh start, free from the burdens of his past, whispered seductively in his ear.
But as he looked into the abyssal depths of the being's eyes, he saw nothing but emptiness—a void devoid of mercy or compassion. It was then that Enry realized the true nature of the bargain before him: a Faustian pact with a creature that knew only hunger and deception.
With a trembling hand, Enry reached for the quill, the weight of his decision heavy upon him. The room seemed to pulse with malevolent anticipation, as if the very walls themselves awaited his choice.
As the quill touched the parchment, a surge of power coursed through him—a fleeting moment of euphoria quickly swallowed by a chilling realization. With each stroke of the quill, Enry felt a piece of himself slipping away, consumed by the darkness that surrounded him.
And as the final stroke marked the end of his signature, a deafening silence fell upon the room. The being's grin stretched impossibly wide, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth that gleamed in the dim light.
"It is done," the being intoned, its voice reverberating with triumph. Enry's fate was sealed—a soul forfeit in exchange for a new beginning, ensnared in a pact with a being whose name would haunt his nightmares for eternity.
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