Dart had once thought he had been a creature of darkness, a soul who’s light could only be seen in the shadows of the moon. He inflicted pain and suffering, and enjoyed the rushing of blood. He was without a doubt a twisted soul, and his soul mate was once thought the perfect match to meet him head on.
He was now realizing she was not his soul mate, but his savior.
Blood caked the ground in a wet sticky quagmire; the stench of flesh and blood, with the wafting scent of voided bowels permeated through the air and hit him in waves of revulsion and ecstasy. He was not afraid of this revelation that the harm he caused was merely a troubled boy playing in the shade. He embraced it as he watched her work, making the one on the table scream and holler. She forced a soul that would never have given into Dart’s desires regret the mere fact they were born. In their hate they cursed her, in their agony they begged her, and in their delirium they worshipped her: The queen of release; sweet, sweet release. When she was done she merely looked towards the moon, a look of lust in her eyes that made him want to be devoured by her as he stood aloft in the darkness, letting her enjoy herself.
“Dart,” she whispered in a seductive voice. “The Great Game has officially begun. I can feel the Lines of Fate ensnare the land, the shroud of magic that protects us from those who would interfere with the contest. How much do you know of this battle?” Her head never turned to him, still looking to the moon as she bathed herself in the illuminations of the darkness. Dart scratched his head again, jumping into a puddle of blood and letting it stain his black boots. He walked towards the doorway, looking outside of the small shack they used for her playtime, and spoke softly.
“I really don’t know much,” he admitted. “Just that I gotta uh…kill pretty much anyone else who gets in the way of our prize?” Now her head turned, the weight of her hazel red eyes bearing upon him. He felt his heart beat rapidly to see her gaze upon him, and he felt his flesh try to actively crawl away as he smiled at the feeling of being terrified.
“You are not the best of Masters to summon me, and clearly not the worthiest, but at least your understanding of my deeds makes up for it. For now it would be easier if you just trusted me,” she turned to the dead body, and looked at the carcass like one who was bored with their toys. She walked towards the exit, her feet never once dipping in the blood of the departed. Dart feared her approach, unable to move as his muscles tensed. She merely lifted a hand to his face, feeling the stubble as he looked to her with total adoration.
“Your Voice of Reasons…use them to summon me to your side if you are in danger, or I am in danger, but remember you only have three of them. If you use all three, I vanish immediately from the Great Game.” Dart dumbly swore to her he would obey and he watched her smile to him. Her warmth…it felt like a mother’s love for a son, and in the glow of her smile he felt like a small child who was lost, but now was found.
Dart was about to say something when he felt a cold chill run down his spine. Sweat began to form into beads upon his scalp and drip down as he felt a tingle of excitement run through his veins. Cassandra narrowed her eyes as she looked to the wall on her left. Past the rusted tools of a garden shed, past the rotting wood workbench on the opposite side and through the hedges towards the working streetlights her gaze penetrated. Dart had no doubt in his mind that she was capable of feeling something far more grander than he did.
“What is it?” he asked, a whisper of fear in his trembling tone.
“You should know,” Cassandra muttered. “It’s magic. Very well hidden magic for that matter. We’re in danger, Dart. Take my hand and follow me, my child. We stick to the darkness…” He followed her orders without hesitation and to touch her skin sent a wave of pleasure he never knew even existed rush along his blood. It was the softest of silk, and gentle. With a wave of her free hand the darkness swarmed around them, and in moments Dart could feel the coldness of the darkness wrap around him like a blanket. She opened the door to the shed, and Dart could feel a primal feeling within his chest urge him towards the bushes and shrubs on the eastern wall, and with cat like grace they moved until Cassandra released him. In the shadows he felt the comforting wave of emotions and knew without a doubt he had magic cast upon him.
Cassandra had vanished, but he could tell she still clung to the shadows, the Mistress of the Night no doubt was far more capable than he of hiding herself. Dart didn’t have to be a genius to know that his life very well could be on the line at the moment, and his silence was key to his life. He could feel his heart begin to race, but the darkness he was clinging too began to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, like a gentle lover. Slowly, he gave into those carnal thoughts and let it control him, and within moments he felt a sliver of courage that kept him calm and ready.
“He says he can smell the magic in the air. It’s coming from over here.” The silence of the night was interrupted by the sound of leaves being crushed underfoot, and a party of four people stepped forwards. There was a brush of wind upon his back, and tingle in his mind as he heard the sweet words of his Avatar speak to him.
“Who are they, Dart?” He gazed deeper into the group, and the front two men who wore expensive looking black suits fanned out checking the area. Dart felt his blood begin to quicken, before the Darkness reassured him that he was safe in the shadows. He focused on his Savior’s question, and peered to the last two people. One was a man, Salvarian in his accent as he spoke, and wearing a very nice, but a bit large overcoat. His mannerisms were obviously of a man who was uncomfortable.
The woman next to him however he knew. Not personally, but he had seen her in a book in the house of a victim he murdered only a week prior. She was known as the Crone, and was a potent user of Magic. Considering it took Dart all his skill just to summon his Avatar, he knew that chances were she was a powerful person. Far more powerful than he.
“The three men, I have no clue, but the woman. She’s a mage. A very good one. I think her name was…Mary…Maddie…Maggie…Magdalene!” He remained quiet as he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, hushing him as they watched.
“He says he can smell the magic in the air,” the Salvarian said loudly. “As well as some other unpleasant things…” he added as an aside. The Crone looked to him with disgust as she slapped the man’s chest.
“A novice could tell magic is in the air, this was a reaping of Mana. Using the distilled product of the human soul to replenish an Avatar’s personal store of magic! And they weren’t subtle about it either, which makes me think it’s a trap. Keep your eyes peeled, Baxter, and have Symbiote ready to go on my command.”
The man nodded in submission as he sniffed the air loudly, like a hunting dog. Dart watched as he moved his way slowly across the backyard, his feet crushing the dead grass as he stalked ever closer. The hand on his shoulder tightened, and he knew he was in danger until there was a shout of alarm. The Salvarian quickly turned to see one of the suited men run out of the shed, dropping to all fours and purging his stomach as the other one stumbled backwards in terror.
With a dark chuckle Dart felt himself be tugged backwards deeper into the darkness, and away from the danger of the Crone.