Maleficar

Prologue

    There was a chill in the air, a subtle wrongness that disturbed even him. He needed another person to sacrifice to his blade that hungered. The carver needed that fix of euphoria the blade gave him it was better than sex. He licked the blade and he did almost despair that there wasn't anyone... A can crumpled and he turned. There like a deer in the headlights was a streetwalker. He was young and he only had to take a single look at his blade to dash into a dead end ally way. He felt like this was rigged.... Almost.  

He chuckled as the pretty boy had nowhere to run. He took his time to leisurely check out the terrified thing. Tattoos adorned his sculpted pale flesh. Such an absolute whore with shorts so small they hid nothing and he had piercings all over. The lone lamplight flickered faster and as he slunk closer but the streetwalker didn't move and he lunged... There was the sound of flesh being parted and the sound of a sickening slurk and he looked down. His dark blade hung in midair before the skin of the streetwalker. The ambient light seemed to be drawn toward the sight where his blade floated in midair... He wished the light had shattered.

 For the power of his blade dispelled whatever kept the armor invisible. With an ominous chill it spread a blackness so dark it drained the light from the alley. He felt cold but he was transfixed as in the blackness there was movement and then suddenly he saw faces in terror and pain and he tried to look away. For he saw his face in the blackness and there was an audible snap as his blade broke from its hilt and he looked down in-time to see his organs spill to the ground.   That was the least of his troubles. For his beloved weapon lay broken in pieces, Some of the blade had even pierced his gore.

He had broken his beloved weapon several times. He giggled all he had to do was assemble the pieces and then he and his trusty blade could really carve....   His fingers struggled as he tried in the dark to find the blade with only a a flickering lamplight. The blood soaked metal shredded his fingers as he tried to bring the pieces together. It was strange it was starting to feel like he was forcing himself through glue as his fingers struggled to do as he had commanded.

  It was like he was a ruptured can of soda and the void continued to guzzle him. His vision began to blur. It was alright. his trusty knife would put him back together like it always did. The pieces weren't merging together. It was really funny of his blade to pretend to be dead when he needed it.   He kept forcing the blade and hilt together but they would not merge. It was as if he was just forcing two bits of dead metal together. As if his knife was just an ordinary knife and not one that strengthened him and sustained him as long as he fed it sacrifices.  

The lamplight shattered overhead and plunged the alleyway into the embrace of the night. For the first time in a long time. He was starting to get frightened. There was no pretty boy before him, No easy victim. But there was something there. Something that sent shivers down his spine.   A figure draped in the utter black of void. He saw fragments of faces in that black. The more he looked the more clear the horrid visages became. His broken knife dropped from his nerveless lacerated fingers. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe as he slumped over into his own gore.  

He could do nothing but scream as he fell into that bleak abyss and he screamed   And he screamed for naught for there was no sound in the void only a desolate all-encompassing darkness.  The carver was gone his malignant curse that he was upon the small southwestern city was gone. Something far darker took his place in Bleakhaven.