Without a wand in his hand and unable to cast a Patronus Charm, Rey was the weakest of the weak against the swarm of hundreds of Dementors. In that moment, he wished he could simply melt into the stone door behind him.
But there was no escape. No matter how much he dreaded it, the inevitable was upon him.
As the horde of Dementors charged, the temperature in the cavern plummeted. If there had been any standing water, it would have frozen instantly.
Rey felt his soul being tugged at, his face going numb. A bone-deep cold seized his heart, a sensation so suffocating it felt as if his very breath were being suppressed.
Each Dementor paused briefly before him to take a feed. One after another. Ten Dementors, ten drains on his soul.
Rey's mental state collapsed. No matter how resilient his soul was, it couldn't withstand this relentless barrage. Within fifteen minutes, he was gasping for air—more out than in—watching the shadows swirl around him as he waited to die.
For the Dementors, this was ecstasy. They craved this dark pleasure.
Screaming, sorrow, agony, despair... every time they drained Rey's happiness, they pumped these negative emotions directly into him.
Essentially, the Dementor's feed was an exchange of emotions. They took the human capacity for joy and happiness and replaced it with their own toxicity.
These negative emotions came with fragmented, foreign memories. It made Rey wonder—if Dementors were once human, what kind of unimaginable torture did they endure to become this?
Maybe they really were human once. But what difference did it make now?
This swarm would eventually drain him dry. He would lie here silently until, centuries later, some historian might dig up this dungeon and find his nameless, desiccated corpse.
As his mind drifted, the Dementors grew more agitated. Perhaps because his soul was stronger—and tastier—than their usual fare, they became even more frenzied.
Countless negative emotions flooded Rey's brain. His memory began to blur, mixing with tragic flashbacks that didn't belong to him.
He saw memories of being orphaned at five, then taken by the Church to join the choir. To ensure their voices remained pure, the Church inhumanely castrated the boys when they turned eleven. Only then would their soprano voices remain "angelic" and free of impurity until adulthood.
But it didn't end there. Once a generation of choir boys was replaced, the true nightmare began for them.
It was a nightmare so painful it made death seem like a mercy. Drowning in these borrowed emotions, Rey finally understood the true definition of a living hell.
Too many Dementors, too much trauma, and too many horrific experiences were being shoved into his mind one after another.
Rey felt like his skull was going to explode. The pain was so intense he wished he could just die right then and there.
Death would be a release, especially for someone who could no longer move or fight back.
---
But the Dementors couldn't take his soul completely—at least, not yet.
The Church wouldn't let a fresh source of nourishment go to waste so quickly.
Souls can recover. The process is painful, but possible. Just as a tired person sleeps to restore their energy, the soul can replenish itself given time and fuel.
A dark curse had been placed on Rey. It converted his physical body mass—his fat and muscle—into spiritual energy to replenish his soul. This explained why the pile of corpses in the cavern hadn't rotted; they had been consumed from the inside out until they were nothing but dried husks.
When the Dementors took another feed, leaving Rey with only a thread of life remaining, the ward on his body activated. It formed a barrier, cutting off the Dementors.
Denied their meal, the creatures naturally drifted away. They wouldn't hover at the door forever when there were other dying victims nearby to torment.
Once the Dementors left, the crushing weight of negative emotions lifted. Rey felt instantly lighter, his breathing becoming slightly stronger.
He didn't know how much time had passed when he finally opened his eyes.
Disoriented, he felt as if he were waking up in his comfortable bed back in the modern world. Seeing only darkness, he instinctively reached out to the right, feeling for a light switch on the wall.
But there was no light, and no wall. His hand met only cold, rough stone that scraped his skin.
Reality crashed back in. He was in the Church's dungeon, surrounded by a legion of Dementors waiting to eat his soul.
For a Dementor, a victim waking from a coma is like the dinner bell ringing.
Sensing his consciousness, the ghostly wraiths released waves of malice and swarmed him again.
And so... Rey fainted again.
The cycle repeated. He would wake, suffer, and pass out.
By the time he woke up for the fifth time, his mind felt surprisingly clear, as if his soul was intact. But he knew the reason: the curse placed on his body had likely broken.
There was no more fat or muscle left to convert into soul energy.
He was skeletal now. His body looked like nothing more than skin stretched tight over bone. His lips had shrunk back so severely they could no longer cover his teeth.
Touching his face and arms, Rey didn't need a mirror to know he looked like a monster.
---
Once awake, his fresh, vibrant soul was an irresistible lure for the Dementors.
Since he was fully conscious this time, the creatures were even more eager than before.
With a terrifying whoosh, they scrambled over each other to get to him.
Facing the oncoming swarm, Rey's fear turned into a cold, hard resolve. He wasn't going to just sit there and die.
He pushed his back against the stone door and struggled to stand up. Looking at the horde of ghosts, he let out a cold sneer. summoning every last ounce of strength, he roared:
"Go f yourselves!"
His voice was hoarse, but it was loud. The curse word carried the tragic, defiant weight of a general making a final stand.
Dementors don't understand English, and they certainly don't care about insults. Even if they could understand, Rey was just food.
And who cares if your food is being brave?
A freezing wind hit his face. Just as Rey finished his defiant shout and the Dementors were about to enjoy their final feast, a thunderous, powerful female voice exploded through the cavern.
"Get the hell out of my way!"
Along with the shout, a wave of black darkness erupted around Rey.
It was a black cloak that expanded instantly, shielding his entire body and blasting outward.
Wherever the fabric struck, the Dementors were swept aside like trash before a broom.
It happened so fast. Rey only saw clearly once the Dementors had been knocked back.
The "black darkness" was indeed a magical cloak. After expanding to smash the Dementors with incredible force and speed—distorting their ghostly forms on impact—it shrank back down.
It draped itself over the shoulders of a woman.
She had long legs, a full figure, and a charming, predatory smile. And beneath that single black cloak... she was wearing absolutely nothing.
She stood with her right leg forward, posed confidently. The cloak revealed just enough to be enticing, while hiding everything that shouldn't be seen.
Even in his emaciated, near-death state, Rey felt a jolt of heat in his frozen heart at the sight of her.
"What's the matter?" the woman purred, her voice dripping with flirtatious teasing. "It's been so long, you don't recognize me?"
Rey snapped out of his daze. He lowered his head, forcing himself not to stare, but his mind was racing.
That deadly vixen... what the hell is she doing here?!
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