So it ever was. So will it always be. Such is the nature of evil.
It is unkind to let the child live. The thing inside of him demands that he rip her from this world so that it could be cleansed of the weakness that rattles in her chest and slides down her maw. She is a disgusting sight to Underidge; he wishes to recoil from it, to blot out her existence from this world in one fell swoop. That he will do. There is a digest in him to see her yet at the same time he knows that this release will both strengthen the world around them as well as sate the spirit within him. It would take no relish in the death of Story. She was weak and of no importance in the grand scheme of things. It would, however, feel the remnants of her passing in the sorrow and grief that would darken the doorstep of Glorall once they retreated from it. The Shade liked such things for when it could not have what it wanted most, it took what was most wanted by others.
At least her instincts prove to be worthwhile for she struggles to her feet and attempts to flee beneath his onward gait. It is then that he lashes out and his claws catch her on the side and throw her to the ground. Story stood no chance against the fast viciousness of his assault. Maybe if her mother had been close by she could have chased Underidge off or if her father had saw fit to keep a watchful eye on his pup. Or if this pack was lively and protective. Yet he is assured that no matter what he would have succeeded for he had this being inside of him, otherworldly, that could guide him.
She twists in his maw and indeed her needle sharp teeth tear into the tender flesh of his lips. He growls savagely with her between his teeth, disliking that she has perhaps passed on to him the same gross illness that is hers and it is with relish that he snaps his head around. So quick, so dizzying, so fierce.
What a harsh life she lived despite how short it was. Born sick and separate and never getting the full chance to grow. To heal. She would never know what it was to use a healthy body to it's full potential yet even as he completes these tasks he also knows that when her spirit flies from her body it might well find itself lodged in a more healthy one. Story might well rejoin this world again under a different guise and a different name and even if she does not know it, she will be the same soul.
As she lays on the ground beneath he she manages to wheeze out two words. Thank you. His ears prick as he stares at her for a moment. Then, strangely, he dips his maw in acknowledgement before he lunges in so that his teeth will wrap around her neck and with a jerk - one paw securely holding her body down - he will yank upwards until her neck snaps and the light will leave those rheumy eyes.
When it is done and she lays there with her spirit fled he turns. He turns from her without a backward glance and he begins a silent march out of Glorall in the clinging shadows and hidden foliage. He will wait outside the border in a hidden alcove of the world and he will listen. Listen for the cries of sorrow that will no doubt mar the world and only then will his god be appeased.
UNDERIDGE
TWO - MALE - NO HEART - OPHELIA'S SOUL
OF TAVIORA - ENDERLY X BANSHEE