Artist: Bear McCreary - Song: flint and silver - Word Count: 1082 -
To perpetuate darkness, enveloping the sickness that was existence. Every time breath fades forth the air stagnates and creates a void of everything ... this shred of what they called semblance was pathetic. They stood here under its sun under its lights, in the wake of its evil. And there was only one throne of corpses here that one may dare lay clemency to. And the blood soaked the dirt as filth enveloped the world around him ... he made for the purpose of deprivation, the man beyond revelry beyond redemption ... beyond darkness.
The withering corpse of hate tended to endure even the worst hardships but it wasn't hate that drove him, merely progress of what this disease did to the world it encompassed... he was here because of death. Eyes staring into a blissful eternity as black was all men and monsters alike saw naught but the pitch of his soul encompassing the seclea of his eyes. His voice was deafening as those around him choke the blood pouring from their eyes those tears of mothers children's cries of pain, it burdened him, placed a weight of exhaustible death upon him. The true envoy of death he had become, his very presence stained hearts black and reduced their beat to nought but a memory... he accepted his position as a monster, he cast his humanity away long ago, but the fate these mortals bore hurt. He watched them die some sort semblance of regret bore fruit for there lay no happiness in the eyes of eternity and he held those eyes.
Crouched before a child as her mother hugged her the life leaving them as simply his presence carved their beings to nothing ... he didn't want this but the truth was he was the envoy of death, and thus that taint bled from him. his hand cradled the tiny child's lifeless head, the degradation even affecting her skin to the point that it tore away at touch marking his hand with the crimson of what once ran in the girls veins. His hands had always been stained with blood this made simply another corpse to add to his collection. And as he stroked the girls cheek his hand would raise brushing the red through his black hair his eyes raising. He never returned a single glance to carnage he caused, it was the outcome of all things, thus was dictated by death itself, any who passed the way of darkness itself would be consumed by it and as one looked down the trail he walked, corpses amassed in the hundreds and as his veins turned to black and the strains of his being erupted into the wings of the devil himself one could not question the truth that lay here .... he wasn't any mere man..he was Wolf Lionus a entity beyond the crippling perception of normality ... he was something different.
The truth lay in what was to come, the shackles that bound the freedom of those whose souls were a thing he eventually claimed. These beings were not just a cog in a wheel that turned a mechanism for some pretentious being seeking to become a god, there lay only one true god, he who is the beginning the end the in between and the eventuality, he who is death. But even if thats what the fate of all was they deserved the right to spend that time before their essence was accounted for as they wished. The only hindrance within that ideal was the simple necessity of power, the evocation of such power would inevitability drew not freedom they ... they sought ... it simply drew him.
And now he was here, the payment that none wanted and few saw. Was he here for blood? for the souls that would amass within the pit that harbored all he had taken? no he wanted to find something, he wanted to bear witness to a simple thing some consciously spouted forth as "peace" the calm the drew storms. Silence was something all sought, and something very few actually found. Wolf Was no exception to this, never was the world silent,it was loud it never ceased even around him death wouldn't calm the world it set it into panic, caused the echos that would never cease and it was unbearable. He was a being that heard all, but it didn't drive him to madness it didn't turn him to a mindless damned being that took joy in its loss of humanity... he longed for it ... he hated it. That was his fate, he was hate, the shell that held it at least.
And as his path continued there was none that would ever escape his torment without his consent and there was none that would understand. He had been upon this path for so long it was hard to even comprehend anymore what he was still fighting for, why all those times he rose, why the grave never contained him... it was simple... he wasn't ready to die. No amount off questioning his darkness could ever give it light but there was something that one may find, the darkness though lonely never ceased to be ... and he too was just like that darkness, he was no shadow waiting to die he was the eternal pit of death and darkness, the king of dark. His throne wasnt built to shackle those around him or rule over any, not made to be worshiped at the foot of, simply it was made for him to wait and to show those who declared themselves the true evil, the true darkness ... what darkness truly was.
But for that he needed something, he wanted something. His head cocked as his feet crushed the stones bellow, his destination only growing and becoming clearer. His figure came to a halt outside the mighty walls that hold within times oldest story... the story of a man who sought something beyond even the gods themselves, he stare into the life less wake he had brought behind him, not as any sort of greeting or as provocation but simply he couldn't control what death claimed ... and those souls were his, bonded forever. But as he look back at them hed crouch once more staring over the decay to the beauty beyond, to the sunset that many could see but never truly appreciate. Morning had come to China... to K world, and yet darkness still enveloped it.