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The desperation had slammed into him, and Alphonse had no other ideas. Handling this in her body, he had every chance of causing serious harm to it, or worse.

As a demonling, Alphonse learned it was undeniably impossible to possess a human who was already possessed. Therefore, he never felt a need to try. He had seen no one attempt it, so unless he tried, he wouldn’t know for certain. What was that bullshit humans said to each other sometimes? “Anything’s possible if you just believe.”

If he made it out of this alive, the demon world would know he knew the truth. More than one demon could possess a body, especially now, when Silas gave him an entrance when he, as Cassandra, roared in his face long enough for him to slip inside.

The darkness of Silas’ possession took over her mind without mercy. The bright, blue warmth of the galactic, starry sky had been covered up to resemble a black hole. Oil flooded the ocean floor, and memories were entrapped in vine-like cages.

“Cass!” Alphonse called out, hurrying toward where the dream television’s sound used to come from. When he reached the couch, the television’s screen only showed static behind an empty couch and moldy popcorn.

The only other place she could be had to be the corpus callosum, a terrifying thought, for it meant Cass was in a state of the possession that would’ve taken longer to get to under normal circumstances.

The first thing he noticed of the corpus callosum was that the fleshy, bouncy walls and floor of it had become darkened by rot. Ominous vines protruded from every side, covering up the control panel for her body until only a couple of buttons, at best, could be seen between overlapping vines.

Though the vines wrapped around the edges of the eye screen, it was clear as day, left untouched.

Across from the eye-screen, Cassandra’s conscience, her very soul, floated vertically in the air as if she were underwater. Her hair lifted from her shoulders and watery eyes reddened. Her eyes were unnaturally wide as if something was pulling the lids as far back as possible. The vines held her high in the air, constricting her ankles, wrists, and around her neck from behind her.

The vines kept her from controlling herself and forced her to watch what her own body was experiencing.

Alphonse clenched his jaw, determination filling him once more. He lifted his clawed hand and swiped at the vines around her neck. They shrieked as he sliced through them, a black liquid gushing out of them. Cassandra immediately lowered her head.

“Close your eyes,” Alphonse said to her as he sliced at the other vines. The vines had been so tight around her that they left marks. Cassandra had paled. This possession worked from the inside out. Once Silas destroyed the mind, the body was fair play.

“He’ll kill… Antonio,” she said in a raspy, weakened voice. It was slow as if it took every ounce of energy for her to speak. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t.”

“Hey, shh.”

She grunted as the last of the vines dropped her from the air, and Alphonse hastened to her side. He took her by the arm to help her to her feet. “You’re a badass. Remember when you kicked my ass? Where is that Cass now?”

“On her deathbed.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Alphonse paused, regarding her state again. He’d seen so many consciences look like this from his own torment, but it was the first time that a human’s pain hurt him. Looking at Cassandra this way hurt. “Well… you’re not being that dramatic—”

Cassandra let out a quiet sob. Maybe she was being dramatic, but not on purpose. “Silas is dramatic,” she mumbled.

“Forget him for one moment. Come on! I wasn’t the first one, right?” he asked, his voice emphatic. “How many demons have you kept from possessing you?”

“A few…” She grabbed onto him with both hands, shaking as she used the last of her strength. “It’s different now. I can’t do it alone.”

“Then we’ll do it together,” Alphonse told her. “I’m protecting you. I care about you, damn it. I don’t care what that says about me. But I’d never forgive myself if you died, so you’re not fucking dying. Neither’s Antonio!”

“He’s safe?” she asked, her eyes lighting up the tiniest bit.

“You fucking bet he’s safe. But you have to try to come back for him!”

Cassandra’s bright eyes dimmed as she began to cry again. “I’m scared! I don’t know where he is!” She sniffled and dropped to the ground, taking Alphonse with her. “Silas, I mean. He’s somewhere… destroying every inch of me.”

“Sit up, at least. Can you do that for me?” Alphonse asked, sitting himself down and crossing his legs. “Next to me. You can do that, can’t you?”

With a deep sigh, Cassandra lifted herself up to do as he said. She slouched, and Alphonse motioned with his hand to sit straight. She glared. “I’m so tired,” she said. “I’ve been… keeping myself safe for a while, okay? I think I’ve just run my course.”

“Fuck that. This isn’t the Cassandra I know!” he responded, taking her hands and holding them tight. “What happened to the girl who told me to have fun? Remember when we danced? And you like girls. And you’re very protective of your brother. So sweet to him. And please! You’re seventeen! You have so much of your life left. And you fucking kick demons’ asses on the reg. That’s not a normal thing for any human, but it makes you so fucking cool. Cass, you…”

Alphonse flailed, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “You.” He gestured at her as if that would better express what he meant. “You… inspire me.” He smiled to himself and nodded, meeting her exhausted gaze.

Cassandra looked at him, listening in silence, but her eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head as he spoke. “Uh…” she started, blinking in surprise.

“You inspire me to be a better individual—” Alphonse started.

“Say ‘person’,” she said. “But, Al!”

A bashful laugh escaped his lips. “Right… person. Wait! Let me say this. You inspire me to be a better,” he took a deep breath, “person than I’ve ever been. You made me realize that you can be created or born into something, but you don’t have to… stay there forever if you can help it. If you want it enough, you can be… who you want to be and… you showed me that humanity… really is the light and it feels so fucking good.”

It only dawned on Alphonse that she was half-listening when she covered her mouth and stared at him in awe, her tired eyes lighting up again.

“You have a face,” she half sobbed, cupping her own face as she gaped at him.

“I—what?”

“Alphonse, you literally transformed right before my eyes. You look almost human.”

For a moment, he thought she was bluffing, that Cassandra had just wanted to give up, so it didn’t seem that possible. He looked down at his lap. Where there had been curls of smoke, solid, dark clothes covered his lap and his chest. His clawed hands were that of a human’s, with skin was a few shades darker than Cassandra’s, with little fingernails and little hairs. He was solid. No longer some ambiguous being.

Alphonse touched his own face and broke into a laugh. “Am I—wait. I…” His hands ran through his soft hair, and he laughed again in shock. “Wait, how do I look? How did this happen?”

“You look…” Cassandra began, smiling warmly and giggling herself. “You look like… a man in his… late forties. Your hair’s dark. Eyes are… green.” She placed her hand over her heart. “Like mine.”

“Like yours?”

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding. “Smile again, it’s so nice and kind.” Alphonse did, and she laughed, her eyes tearing up. “And you have wings.”

Alphonse’s smile faded. Without pain, he couldn’t have known, but moving his muscles, he could feel a light weight over his shoulder blades and see large black wings, the tips of each feather a soft white.

“I can’t believe it,” Alphonse whispered to himself. To his surprise, he didn’t feel angry, upset, or scared. There was a sense of relief and joy bursting in his chest at this revelation.

“I’m glad I could help you still in my time of dying,” Cassandra said. Alphonse opened his mouth to say something, but she held a hand up to stop him. “Don’t worry, I’m… being dramatic.” She gave him another smile. “I’m proud of you.”

A wicked voice echoed around every inch of the corpus callosum. “Ah, yes. Alphonse, now a risen demon. Such an achievement that calls for a display of hubris, surely.”

Alphonse stood and offered his hand to Cassandra, who took it firmly and pulled herself up. “Keep your eyes open,” Alphonse told her.

“As if the bastard hadn’t been making me keep my eyes open the whole damn time already,” she snorted. “You won’t have to tell me twice.”

“No need, I’m right here.”

The two of them spun around to see Silas in his powerful demonic glory. Half of his face was like a monster out of a nightmare, the other smirking as if he’d already won the war.

“You look out for me, I look out for you,” Cassandra said, and Alphonse nodded.

“Always.”

A double-edged sword with designs of demons and hellfire along its blade appeared in Silas’s hand. Alphonse glanced at Cassandra with wide eyes, and she glared at Silas with a look that made the Cassandra he’d met the first night seem like a bunny. Silas looked from one to the other, his fanged mouth grinning. “Oh, this should be fun.”

If Silas were smart, he’d be terrified.