Devilution is a 190 page theological thriller that entails a glimpse into the horrors of the guilty mind.
The definition of insanity is not of sound mind. It is the inability to correctly comprehend the stimuli that surrounds us. I used to think that I was insane when I slept. Now, I live in dreams. I understand little of what has happened to me. I understand that they are after me. I do not know what they are, nor do I know what I am. Am I of sound mind? Do I fight them to preserve my sanity? Do I have a choice? How long has it been? Who am I?
Now I sit alone, again. The monsters within me clash for domination. I am losing. I sought solitude. I found myself perched atop the crumbled remains of what was once a symbol of sanctuary and liberty. Liberty? Now that is something only my dreams can dream.
The angels circle in the dark distance, they are here to witness the final moments of the only holy devil to have been. I sense my brethren clamoring across the remains of the fallen city. They wait for me as well. They wait for my strength to finally fade. They wait for me to finally fall. They still have fear.
My memories retain so little of my elongated past. My mind has fragmented. Piecing the shattered bits together like torn up photographs make the images in my memory distorted and difficult to keep a hold of. Tiny blurs of images flash through my mind’s eye. Nothing left to hold onto, only vague feelings remained. The other monster is winning. Distant understandings that I once had a life beyond the meager and torturous existence that I reflect upon today jostle themselves within the confines of what my mind now considers real. I find another thread to pull my memory from and divulge of myself. I must know, I must remember why I had come all this way. Perhaps within the jumble of these thoughts and memories I may find sanctity.
How did it come to this? What have I become? Who was I? Only fragments of the beginning rip through my mind. I focus on the pain of what was my real life. I focus on the pieces of time that I had lost so long ago in the twisted elongation of my memory. They called me Oni once, in reverence of a blessed spirit. Now my name is symbolic with the most heinous of curses. I was human once, I believe. Though all of what I once believed in is lost. I remember now, though it is unclear and in flashes, I was in a war. A war of man…