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A Fall of Sorts
The intellect devourer died with a satisfying squelch.
That should have been his first clue. The strange thrill that rode through him at the sound, at the feeling of finally winning; at the feeling of being the hunter instead of the hunted. He'd led them a merry chase throughout the city, using his speed and agility to evade the monsters that chased him - the intellect devourer, Addison, and their minions.
Something in him exhulted in it, in being able to all but dance in between them - and when he'd felt the monster die, his mind had soared.
With it dead, he'd be able to escape, he reasoned. It had been the devourer which had been able to sense him, sense his presence.
Or, some part of him reasoned, this was his chance. His chance to take control of this mess - to hunt, instead of skulk. To hunt, instead of hide. To hunt instead of run.
Bolt after bolt landed into him, despite the cloak of displacement, the shadows, and the smoke. Poison after poison burned in his skin, even through his unbeating heart.
As the darkness that wasn't born of his shadowed soul began to close in, he realized his mistake.
He had become so used to his hunger, the beast and demon in his mind, roaring that he had never noticed its whispers. Its whispers that he was strong enough, skilled enough, to take on three other people by himself. The whispers that told him to finally hunt.
And it was those whispers that betrayed him. Before the darkness came, he wondered only if he would wake in light or perpetual shadow - and, insanely, if they would be proud of him, those brilliant people who stood within the light.
Continue reading...
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The Hunt Begins
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Sir Victor Orsei Playlist
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Sentinel
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The Hunt
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A Dance Macabre
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Promises I can't Keep
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Mother
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Easier to Run towards the Ashes
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Perfectly un/happy
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The Hunger
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Untitled - Brief
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Fire
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Heroes
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Animal
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Untitled
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Unmasked
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Hanging in the balance
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Two lives
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A Fall of Sorts
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...
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...
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...
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Scars Unseen and Unsaid
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Old Company
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Control
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Journal Entry - April 1884
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An Evening in Hell
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