The day has come full circle to where I found myself the day before, the month, the week, aeons of time. The day is bleeding its final goodbye as the shadows draw their elongated fingers across the ground, reaching to devour each light that remains behind. I stand in the newly born darkness, not that anyone could see me, I am practiced in the art of dimness.
I am all things, the All Seeing, existing in both the spiritual world and the physical, simultaneously, the ever Present. I am called Bastian, a forbidden warrior in my human life, I stole lives, ripped them still screaming from their shells, and delighted in it. My sin was discovered, found at the labour of men, and I was sent to meet my own burning infinity, bound to a stake and accused of witchcraft. When mortality found me, a millennia ago, yesterday, I was spared, changed and afforded immortality. In turn, I reap the souls from those that are deserving of Hell and Damnation, fully sanctioned to continue as I was, always whispering “Nicham,” as they screamed denial.
The time has come around once again to feed, to draw the eyes from the living corpses that my henchman has found to serve his merry band of malicious miscreants. Quietus, he who stalks the daylight hours, serves me well, carrying within him the liquefied forms of his minions, Scamp, Slurp and Berserker. In the crowded streets, Quietus has roamed, searching for their quarry in the masses that wander in their daily lives, unaware that they may have met the gaze of one so baneful. So many unaware that their fate lays in the hands of this darkest fiend, they simply move about in their small lives, until one notices his presence. He, too, is practiced in the art of remaining opaque, dressed in his suit of nondescript flesh, catching only the eyes of the one who would feed us.
This night I choose to watch as they work, to observe them as they make their presence known to their unsuspecting prey, pulling them from their slumber and devouring their life essences as they silently scream in their dreams. It pleases me to do so, as I stand beyond the sight of human eyes, prepared to pass into the mortal world, my darkest portal opened by the energy my creatures create, to devour the orbs of our prey and capture the souls as they still lay sleeping.
Once, long ago, he was to be devoured and his soul brought to me, his life essence imbibed along with his eyes. The job had already begun when the seed of darkness was revealed to Scamp, who was first to bite. A most delectable morsel, and not one to be wasted, and so I instructed the Terror Triad to leave him drawing breath. I allowed him to wake, assumed my human form and offered him a taste of the eternal delights I held, those that he agreed to and reveled in, and set him on his course as my confidant and the guiding darkness of the other three.
His soul belongs to me, in payment for immortality and the enjoyment of allowing his own desires to gain freedom. Tonight he has found us a prey that is unlike another, this no ordinary evil, the darkness not a seed but a complete invasion of her soul. This one I will not spare. No, this soul is black as night; it must be eradicated from the human world and it will serve me in the deepest pits of my domain.
Within the bedchamber of the abomination that had been allowed to hunt freely in the sea of humanity, Quietus slips unnoticed, standing at the foot of her bed, watching as she sleeps . His inclinations are evident, the humanity still prevalent in his bearing, as he licks his teeth, making them glisten in the moonlight that floods the room. From behind the veil I observe, curious as she turns onto her back, affording him a view of her bare skin. I his see his desire grow further, as his hand steals forward to pester at the ridge in the trousers he wears.
Aware of my presence he reigns in his appetite, fingers rising to unbutton his shirt, and digging deeply into his belly to tear open the scar created by Scamp in a former time. A bloodless seal broken in order to spill forth the bodies of the ones who devour, inky liquid that reforms into these most evil of creatures.
First to reform is Scamp, he who resembles a small goblin, his talent is to skin the flesh from prey, his teeth that of razors and claws that tear and flay, muttering atrocities as he goes. Slurp, a wriggling delight, sinuous as a snake, she appears next, stretching her tongue like body as she travels up the bed to lick gently at the flesh that will soon be Hers. Berserker, a fallen angel cast out by our counterparts above, He who cannot be seen, his true form hidden, he becomes as his meal imagines him. This night he resembles a tentacled demon, with rows of sharpest teeth ready to rip off the appendages of his meal.
This gathering of darkness draws close to observe the others, our quarry opens her eyes, taking in the monsters that sit before her with a smile, eyes glinting in the meagre light of the room, flickering from one horrific face to the other, before settling on Quietus, who stands in the shadowed corner deep in thought. She speaks words unrecognised to my ears, using her blood-red fingertip to call him closer, offering him his chance to feed upon her flesh before Scamp peels it from her bones.
Her eyes widen in shock as the flesh is peeled from the tip of her lacquered toe, the skin shredded from the row of lethal points that line Scamp’s maw. He works quickly devouring the supple skin from her well toned body, skittering out of the way as she cries pain and flips over, trying to smother the monster that has broken through her defenses. From his corner, Quietus watches, a gleam of pleasure in his eye as he lights the pungent tobacco he’d been rolling into a cigarette. As much as he enjoys the pleasures of the flesh, this act feeds his tendencies more fully. A raspy growl erupts from Scamp, his voice low and menacing as Slurp slides against him, in a gesture meant to annoy or as one of affection I am never sure.
She slinks past Scamp, her rough skin lapping up every drop of precious fluid that oozes from the defleshed body beneath her, desiccating the muscle and sinew as she travels. I can read her mind as she feeds, the delight that she may take her fill and not be concerned with leaving this one to survive. From his corner, Berserker hovers, his eyes bright as he anxiously awaits his turn, watching as Quietus creeps closer, his fingertips lightly stroking our meal’s red and raw thigh stopping only once to blow smoke into her face. Her eyes hold his own, bulging orbs in the ruined features, a slight smile playing on her lips.
She speaks one word only, low and barely perceptible, and strains towards him as he smiles in turn…as he leans closer….
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