Pandora's Box | 18+ (completed)

Chapter Forty One - SLOTH PT2

BEAST

The second Sloth let go of my wrist, I was somewhere else. With his touch went reality and I quickly found myself in one of his wretched dreams.

I had been here more times than I could remember through jokes and pranks.

This was neither of them.

At first, it was difficult to tell the difference between real life and the dreams Sloth wove through minds.

But all dreams have a tell.

The edges would always blur like ruffled pages—like a memory; the colours became brighter—brighter and luminous as though my mind itself was glowing.

I was on the landing outside Pandora's room. It was the same landing I knew—pale marble slabs encasing the floor, rich daylight flooding in through the windows, and rooms lining the walls on either side.

Something was off.

I felt myself skid along the floor, slipping against a thick liquid. Bright red was smeared beneath my feet, tainting the pale slabs of marble in the deepest shade of crimson. My heart careened in my chest as I whirled around.

"Pandora?"

Dreams could not kill us. They could not hurt us.

But they could make us hurt ourselves.

"Pandora!"

•••
PANDORA

My Vessel scratched and pawed against my bones, its complaints growing louder and louder in my ears. Sloth's Sin could only affect me.

Not my Vessel.

The Vessel crawled loose from behind my ribcage, its inky swirls racing down my arms in a pattern of desperation. The black pigment spread abnormally fast, curling around my wrists and fingers. Power radiated through me—it was consuming and the only thing it wouldn't destroy in its path was me.

I wiped the back of my hand across my cheek, forcing myself to my feet.

I had to find Sloth—that son of a bitch.

And more than that, I had to remind myself that Beast had not killed me—I'd only dreamt of it. And dreams were not real, this was not real.

The corpse in the room was still there, bleeding and lifeless. I didn't let myself look at her as I tread around the puddle of blood to check the other rooms. Each room seemed to take shape only when I turned to look at it. Before my eyes laded on the mundane furniture, it was always a blur in my peripheral vision—there, but not quite.

My Vessel wound its way down my legs, hauling my steps from room to room—corridor to corridor.

"Sloth!" I called.

The only answer was an echo of my voice.

Sloth.

I froze when the echoes continued. I dared not move an inch as the walls called back amongst themselves, repeating my words back and forth. The doors, the walls, the furniture—everything seemed to mock and repeat after me in a taunt.

Sloth. Sloth, Sloth, Sloth.

"Sloth, where are you?"

Sloth, where are you?

My voice bounced around, filling the dream in a wave of noise. It was the only thing I could hear. The more I called, the louder the echoes became until my voice filled each room I searched.