IT is from within the very depths of Hell that the wraith of the world resides. The darkness has consumed his charcoal mass, hindering the sight of others if they would be brave enough to peek in. His presence is known though he cannot be seen for his presence is not one that can be easily ignored. Where he goes he carries the stench of death and famine upon him, mixing in a delightful concoction of desire and lust. He is a beautiful disaster, broken by the craze of the bloodlust that ensnares his very soul. The craze comes in waves, falling upon him slowly like a body of comfort. It knows him by now, recognizes him easily and finds him though he hides. It always finds its way to him, drifting towards him slowly, gently in a haze of tenderness. It’ll start off slow, seeping into his pores, drifting through his bloodstream until it finally reaches his most prized vessel; his heart. It is at this time that he disperses, mentally, and becomes what he is known for. What started as a battle was now an embrace, breaking upon him like a relief as he waits for it willingly.

MY, my, my how things have changed.

WATER drips from frozen daggers above, falling upon a still mass that occupies most of the cave’s space. Shadows crawl upon his flesh, intertwining themselves within the finest of his hairs and breaching every barrier that the blood king may have. It is from inside the tornado of black that he slumbers, appearing to the eye as the carcass he had just consumed. Blood has latched itself onto the murderer’s body, clinging to his pelt as if desperate for acceptance. The weapon used to kill is covered in the drying crimson. Tongue slides out from behind those stained kissers, sliding along his paws idly and tasting his kill once more. His stomach rumbles, but not in hunger, but in satisfaction as it already begins the digestive process. This is not the beast cleaning himself, for whether he was groomed or not the devil was handsome. He is feasting on the remnants of memory, mind flickering to the previous moments of death, despair and injustice. He had conquered like a thief in the night, stealing the life from the boy before it had a chance to blink.

IT had been quick, which is unusual for the cannibal is normally slow, deliberate in his kills. His silver specked crystals filling with a sickening delight as he watches the fear fade slowly from the other’s eyes as their strangled pleas for mercy slowly fade into silence. No this kill had been different, merely because Malikye had been lazy. Lucky.

THOUGH it is morning, none would tell for the cave’s darkness has thickened with the poison that lurks from within. Light from outside attempts to squeeze into his habitat only to be snuffed out and suffocated by the darkness from inside. It is within these moments of slight satisfaction that the craze grants reprieve. The world outside of the caves teems with life but from within it seeps the stench of death, seeping out to taint the air and for that very reason, even the birds refuse to sing by it. Though he is unseen, his power does not go unnoticed. There is a sense of dread that fills the area, an overwhelming essence of desolation that lingers about the entrance. Silent screams of ‘no trespassing’ reaches the ears of many from miles away. He is a force to be reckoned with, even as he lays in the darkened domain, gracing life with his very presence.

THERE is a strange tingle at the back of the beast’s neck though, and bloodstained head raises from his task, emotionless cyans staring at the cave, unblinking, unwavering for moments before bloodied kisser raises in a silent warning revealing those tainted daggers as a slender form blocks out the little bit of light that there is and the entire world goes black…



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