The Unmaker

A sacrifice plummeted from the top of the Howling Mountain, and fell into the hollow of its depths.
Hungry...
A scream gone silent.
Poor thing.
Velvet and shattered glass.
The Azlanti woman touched the Bed of Nightshade, and her skin began to disentegrate. Every muscle quaked from the pain, a soundless whine causing her throat to bulge.
I'm afraid you're all mine now.
Her skin tasted like lilacs, sun-touched from New Thespera, treated by fancy oils.
A noble, fallen from grace.
He felt the carress of a warm blanket, the chill of the winter snows, and the twisting of the breeze.
A petal gouged the eyes from her skull, eliciting another throaty quiet. Zelophedad saw the grassy plains west of Aristia, the dew gathered on a windowsill in the morning, the lights at a theatre, and the dark of a lover's bedroom.
He tasted strawberries and cinnamon, the acrid sting of vomit after a late night out, the saltiness of sweat.
He could smell fresh bread, the scent of a baby's skin, and the stench of war.
He felt the aches and pains in her muscles, and the wounds yet healed. The ones that never would. He felt sturdy in her bones, like he could take on the world with them, until they crumbled to dust in his hands.
He saved the brain for last, reeling through the memories like a trip to the cinema.
All gone, as if they had never been.
What?
Another body tumbled from above, and collapsed into nothing.
Stop.
Two bodies this time, clutching each other in their fear, screaming until they hit the bottom.
They were a husband and wife, a mercenary couple.
No...
They had a son.
I'm not hungry anymore!
A baker from the outposts, who got caught up in the war.
A whore from the city, who followed her secret lover to camp.
A doctor, sworn to never do harm, and to heal the sick.
Please...
Days passed like ages, each mind depositing their memories into the deeps, overwhelming him with their fear. The Shadari had been pushed too far... They had no heart for prisoners.
The Unmaker wept in his Bed of Nightshade.
The mountain howled over him, and the sacrifices continued.
Above it all, the Black Owl laughed, taunting the dreamers with a plight they couldn't end.