Friday, October 13, 1989 Part 8– The Final Claim: Mammon's Eternal Ledger

 Friday the 13th: The Nocturnis Arc – 1989

#8: Friday, October 13, 1989 – The Final Claim: Mammon's Eternal Ledger

The light of the Gilded Coil was blinding, yet it cast no shadows. It simply absorbed them, and us. Trapped within that impossible cage of Mammon’s making, the whispers turned into a booming, resonant voice, a sound that shook the very foundations of reality. It was Mammon himself, his presence vast and consuming, manifesting not as a form, but as an overwhelming pressure, a cosmic void of insatiable hunger.

"So, the little Templar," the voice boomed, or perhaps vibrated directly in my mind. "So noble, so futile. You sought to reclaim what was mine, Gabriel De La Cruz. You sought to defy the true nature of greed, the engine of this very city." A chilling, mocking laugh echoed, sounding like coins spilling from a bottomless purse. "Lewis was a pawn, a willing fool. But you, Knight, you were an irritant. And Mammon does not tolerate irritants."

The Archdemon’s presence pressed down, heavy as mountains of gold, suffocating us. I felt the ancient power of my lineage, the faint echo of my Templar vows, trying to resist, to hold firm against the tide of pure avarice. But Mammon wasn't just after our souls; he was after our lives, our very beings, to break us completely, to consume us utterly. He delighted in the prospect of a Templar Knight, a symbol of righteous opposition, eternally tormented within his infernal domain.

"And the inheritors," Mammon’s voice shifted, focusing on Micki and Ryan, who were struggling, desperate, trying to find a weakness in the luminous cage. "You thought to undo a cosmic bargain? How quaint. Lewis's final foolish act merely paved the way for more. More souls. More despair. And now, you join him. Not in service, but in dissolution."

The Gilded Coil tightened. We didn't feel pain as a physical sensation, but as a spiritual agony, a horrifying unraveling of our very essence. Our bodies, once solid, seemed to shimmer, to become porous, absorbing into the golden light. I tried to reach for Micki, for Ryan, to offer some final comfort, but our forms were dissolving, becoming one with the Archdemon’s ultimate avarice.

Mammon did not just claim our souls; he claimed our existence. There were no bodies, no remains. Just a final, silent scream that echoed only within the heart of the void. And then, nothing.

Back in Nocturnis, the rain continued to fall. The old building on the corner, "Uncle Lewis's Odd 'n Ends," stood quiet and unassuming. The doors remained locked, the windows dark. But the shop lingered. And deep within its shadowed interior, amidst the dust and silence, the faint hum of power continued, waiting. Waiting for the next unwitting inheritor, the next desperate soul who dared to seek Immortality, Power, and Wealth within the corrupt heart of Nocturnis. The cycle, Mammon ensures, is eternal.