POV The Entity in the Shadows
I do not sleep. I do not breathe.
I am.
I am the stillness between the stars, the whisper just before the scream. I am the hunger behind every forgotten prayer, the god they dare not name.
I stood alone in the belly of my throne room, an echoing cathedral carved into the bones of a dying realm. The ceiling split with veins of molten shadow, hellfire bleeding through cracks in the stone. Rivers of screaming flesh pulsed beneath my feet. The walls wept. The air begged.
I didn't listen.
I never do.
Emotion? A parasite. Love? A leash. Gods? Just fuel.
I moved through the void like smoke wrapped in power, like rot wearing skin. My body is… vaguely humanoid, if one were generous. Horns curl from my skull like scythes. My eyes? Bottomless. Not dark. Just… absence. Light fears me. Time forgets me.
I do not carry a name. I threw it away, shattered it like they shattered me.
All that remains is the hunger. The plan. The war to come.
And she is the last fucking piece.
The goddess reborn.
The Moonblood Star that Fell Through Time.
She glows too brightly already. Her bonds have begun to form. The pirate was expected. The wolf, predictable. But the third?
Ah… him.
The fractured one. The haunted soul. The storm in human skin. So many cracks in him… and I've already begun to seep inside.
I turned to the obsidian mirror, suspended by chains that slither and moan. Its surface shimmered with blood and emberlight. I placed a clawed hand against it.
And there he was.
Beautiful.
Broken.
Mine.
His past is a song of agony. Beaten, abandoned, twisted. So perfectly primed for corruption. I will whisper to him in dreams. Slip rot into his heart. Erode his loyalty. Turn his desire into destruction.
I will use him to unravel her.
Because if the pentacle forms, if all six bonds are sealed, she'll ascend. She'll take the Crown. Drink from the Chalice. Wield the Sceptre.
But if I get there first?
If I steal the Crown, shatter the Chalice, corrupt the Sceptre?
She falls.
And when she falls… I will not kill her.
No.
I will keep her.
Chain her.
Breed her.
Drain her.
A divine vessel on her knees, fueling my armies while her world burns around her. Her womb, a forge of twisted lineage. Her cries, a lullaby to my monsters.
I smiled, if the rip across my face can still be called that.
"She will kneel," I whispered into the dark. "She will beg. She will bear my spawn… and thank me for the privilege."
Around me, demons coiled like serpents. The undead rattled their cages. Shadows howled prayers that begged to be punished.
They feel it.
Their king is hungry.
I stepped toward the great black gates. Beyond them lies the Wastes, my kingdom of despair. But it is not enough. Not anymore.
I want Andopeer.
The forests. The skies. The divine halls.
I want the gods broken.
I want the stars to scream.
And I want her, goddess, warrior, daughter of prophecy, on her knees, sobbing in gratitude while I ruin her.
I turned back to the mirror.
"To the demon," I said.
And the shadows obeyed.
They slipped through the veil, silent and precise, sliding into his skin like a drug. He did not feel it. Not yet. But I wrapped around his soul like a noose. I touched the darkest parts of him. I stirred them awake.
Soon, his thoughts will bleed.
His dreams will twist.
And he will seek her.
To love her. To hate her. To end her.
And she will never see it coming.