Beneath the moonlight, a creature of pure black stood tall.
Rain slid over his skin like it didn't belong there. His monstrous hands opened wide, catching droplets as he stared at the scattered stars above.
"How do you feel?" the voice asked from within.
Silas stretched both arms outward.
"I feel… free."
A quiet chuckle echoed inside him.
"How so?"
"I don't know exactly," Silas replied. "Stronger. More confident."
He straightened slightly.
"Like I could conquer the entire wor—"
"Meow."
Silas flinched violently, cracking the asphalt beneath his heel.
"…It's just a cat."
Laughter filled his mind.
"And you were about to conquer the world."
"Shut up," Silas muttered, hiding his face slightly.
Faint footsteps echoed somewhere down the street.
He tensed.
"I can't stay here," he whispered. "Someone might see me. Any ideas?"
His left hand moved on its own, pointing toward a tall building.
"You're joking , right ?
I can't jump that high ! , i might fall "
"Focus," the voice said calmly. "Aim for the rooftop and jump."
"I'm not sure…"
"well if you rather stay put here and get caught, by all means do you ."
Silas inhaled sharply.
"Fine."
He bent his knees and leapt.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Please don't crash.
Solid ground met his feet almost instantly.
He opened his eyes.
He stood on the rooftop.
The city stretched endlessly before him — sharp, clear, almost painfully vivid.
But this time it didn't hurt.
No pressure behind his eyes. No invisible daggers.
"You see?" the voice murmured.
Silas took a slow step forward.
Far in the distance stood the Tower of Freedom — glowing red against the dark sky.
"You want to go there?" the voice asked.
Silas crouched and jumped again.
This time it felt less like falling and more like gliding.
He landed lightly on another rooftop.
"No," he said quietly. "I'm already there."
The voice laughed softly.
When he finally reached the base of the tower, he tilted his head back.
It rose impossibly high into the sky.
For a moment, he felt small.
Then he tightened his legs and launched himself upward.
Birds scattered violently as he roared mid-air.
Seconds later, he stood at the very top.
The city below looked fragile.
Silas stepped closer to the edge and looked down.
From this height, people moved like patterns instead of lives.
Small figures crossing streets.
Cars flowing like veins.
Lights flickering in windows.
"They all look… replaceable," he murmured.
He watched a construction worker resting outside a convenience store.
"That man building a wall… tomorrow someone else will stand in his place."
His gaze shifted.
"That owner locking his store… if he disappears, another will take the keys."
A homeless man sat beneath a flickering lamp.
A child handed him coins.
Silas watched quietly.
"Even he plays a role," he said. "He reminds the rest how fragile their position is."
Wind brushed against his blackened skin.
"Everyone fits somewhere," he continued more softly.
"Worker. Owner. Beggar. Hero."
A pause.
"And me?"
The city lights reflected faintly in his distorted jaw.
"What am I now?"
He looked at his hands.
"They live. They build. They compete."
His voice lowered.
"I only watched."
The black matter beside him shifted slightly.
Silas didn't look at it.
"From up here, they look small."
Another pause.
"But maybe I'm just trying to make myself feel bigger."
Silence settled between them.
The black matter formed a distorted head beside his own.
"I cannot decide who you are," the voice said calmly. "Not for you. Not for anyone."
Silas didn't blink.
"But your life will not remain the same. That was your choice."
"Our choice," Silas corrected.
A faint smile curved the shadowed face.
"What are you?" Silas asked quietly. "And don't say you're me."
The creature's gaze lifted toward the moon.
"We are what humans call devils. Born from your despair. Your anger."
Silas studied him.
"And your name?"
"Devils do not possess names," the voice replied. "But once, they called me Abiectus."
"The forsaken one," Silas said softly.
The devil's eyes widened slightly.
Silas shrugged.
"That name's stupid."
The horizon began to pale.
"For someone like you… it doesn't fit."
Silence.
"How about Amiel?"
The black form stilled.
"It means wanted."
A long pause.
Then the devil laughed — softer than before.
"Amiel," he repeated.
The black matter slid gently back into Silas's arm.
"Amiel it is."
Silas stepped toward the edge of the tower.
"Before we leave," Amiel said, voice quieter now, "why did you come here?"
Silas stared at the city one last time.
"My father built this tower. And many others like it."
His tone shifted — not angry. Just distant.
"But he never brought me here."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"So I came myself."
The wind carried the last of the rain away.
"Let's go home," Amiel said.
Silas nodded.
"Home it is."