200 hundred years ago

The sound of thunder shook the earth. 

It was so dark and tight. He couldn't breathe, strenuously digging in the unknown, looking for a ray of light, a bit of air, or even just something that wasn't soil. An arm was tight around the lifeless body of a man in a desperate hug. It was slippery and heavy, and he seemed not to want to see the sky again. The ground was shuddering with violence. The need to release a scream became increasingly urgent as he felt his chest pounding incessantly. He crawled upward with his hand, then his head and body, continuing to drag the corpse. 

Upward.

A wave of anger made him grunt. How the fuck do I get out of here?  There were no directions.  Above and below were now just empty concepts. His body was shaking and ramped when he finally felt emptiness with his fingertips. A rush of adrenaline washed over him while he exploded into a hysterical laugh. 

Out! 

He kept pushing with his legs, again and again. 

Move!  He thought with a renewed urgency. 

A hand was finally free from the stranglehold of the earth, stirring in the air. A strong arm followed it, then a tuft of sludgy black hair. And finally, icy blue eyes greedily scrutinized the air.

From the tight embrace of hell, he came back. His body was covered with sweat and blood like a newborn creature crying to live. 

He was alive, finally free.

A desperate scream rose as the kiss of life brought him to tears. It was dark and cold, yet he felt consoled by the unusual warmth of the moon.  The white snow coated every rock and tree around him, making the sounds muffled, confused, yet calm. The demon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Half of his body was still stuck while his hands caressed the ground. His black hair clung to his forehead and neck, but he didn’t move. Not then. At that moment, he wanted to feel the mesmerizing sensation he’d been craving for centuries: 

Freedom. 

A hiss slit the air, far away and unknown. His ears responded feebly to the sound, making him stop breathing. Silence enveloped him, then shivers went up his back, and he opened his eyes. His body answered sooner than he could think, and he jumped out of the pit into the ground. The demon grunted with annoyance and weariness and gave himself a last lap. When he realized he was finally out, another hiss cracked the air, followed by a roar so loud that it deafened him. Ice and rocks blew up, hurling him several meters from where his feet had taken him. He slammed into the trunk of a tree… the wood cracked under his weight and the demon growled in pain, bending his hands and knees to the ground. 

He moved his legs first, then his arms and back, kneeling for a few seconds before a shooting pain forced him to take his head in his hands and squeeze tightly. 

A wave of panic assailed him. Did they find me? 

The thought made him wince. When he looked back at his palms, they were stained with blood.

All around, the snowy and shattered world emitted dull whistles.

The demon stood up and looked aimlessly toward the pit where he had crawled from. His friend's body was missing. Only a hand and a few rags in his memory. 

A crater about five meters in diameter had flattened the space. It was not the only one. The clash between the demonic and human energies saturated the earth with the stench of death, leaving behind only the crying of lost souls.

I have to go.

He stood up painstakingly and started running. He was slow and clumsy at first, but as the adrenaline kicked in, a subtle wave of red energy enveloped his body. All the bruises, cuts, and broken bones regenerated until he could move again. 

He didn't stop even when the humans' voices screamed and wept over victory. Or when the demons were defeated and sealed in the cold ground. Nor did he stop when they were hunted and killed as animals.

He didn't stop running. He didn't look back until he was finally alone.

In front of him, a little valley cracked between the mountains. The sea hurled and crushed against the reef. He was at the continent's end, over the Iron Mountains' natural wall, a place not well explored by humans back then. He got closer to the edge and leaned cupped hands towards the water. His reflection was pale. A life of emptiness, violence, and loneliness consumed his eyes.

The demon breathed slowly. This new face would have been him for the rest of his life. This face was freedom and control. This face was an old friend. And the memory of himself a nightmare to forget. 

Now

MoYin was dead, and he is free.

Or at least that's what he tells himself. Imprisoned in a mirror, MoYin screams and slams his hands against the glass until blood flows into every crevice and darkens the ethereal moonlight, looking for a freedom that is not granted. He finds solace only in a few brief moments, in the amethyst gaze of a lover who tastes of death. 

Yet, he stays caged.