Sometimes a cage is never made of iron or steel, sometimes the cage is ice words and demeaning smiles. There is some thread that had bound me to my sire’s herd, a blood tie if you will, but even if I were his daughter it meant nothing in the hell raiser’s eye. He had desired a lot in this world, power being numero uno. He gave up everything for power, including my mother, my sister and myself. I would defy that, I would top him, I wouldn’t need to step among the stones of family to gain higher access to the fruits of the world. I would pave my way with the blood of the unworthy, the skin of those that had not given me that second look. I would do to them, what I had done to those brutes before me, and I would do it all again.
For the chance to step into a new moonlight, a graceless but very powerful glow that seems to also make the earth shake, the trees weep. I would push myself further, further into the realms of the impossible, for one taste of winning, for that longing taste of might.
But first, but first I needed to press some buttons here in Beqanna, settle into the shadows, my blanket of darkness. Test the waters so to speak. Already I have the eye, the mind of the ghoul before me and she draws me in, more and more. As if her saccharine words were candy, and I a mere mindless child. I was far from mindless, perhaps a little obsessive, and overly loyal, but I knew when things would favour me in the end. And I do think that this would be one of them…
’Their blood was not as sweet as I had hoped.’ my words slip, dark velvet and thick drapery, hiding an undertone of recollection. I still tasted their scarlet, it coated my tongue, my mouth. At first it was a glorious feeling, taking the reins of death and riding it closer and closer to my destination, but then, the blood became stale, tasteless and I realised then, that I should have made them suffer a great deal more.
My inky frame bends and bows, slithers and snakes like some serpent, my willowy neck snaking forward, muzzle pressing against the ice cold skin of the ghoulish lady before me, she is an angelic statue of the fallen star, impervious to the dark, the light. I inhale her once more, the stench of decay, of rot and worms, it should have made me run a mile, but I stay, I am a rigid stone.
’Mistress of the night, tell me, I will take away a heart, a soul, for you. I would end all.’
And now starts my untimely obsession with death. With death’s glorious apprentice, her facade a ghoulish beauty, a pale apparition that blinds my dreams with nightmares. I shiver in delight, in appreciation and desire.
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