Four years ago
"My little rose. The darkness rises and you shall hold it for me."
A thin, reedy voice barely stirs the dark encompassing the room. A figure walks slowly in a circle, leaving behind a faint glow in the foot steps, the scarlet glow appears in an arc, and follows in the speaker's trail. Light within the chamber is a few flickering candles, barely enough to pierce the gloom, and casts a dim radiance upon the other form on the floor.
The growing scarlet circle surrounds a slight figure, reddish tresses spill about the head, and the form is unmistakeably female. Motionless, the only signs of life is the gradual movement up and down of the chest, and the almost silent whisper of air passing the scarlet lips. A plain black dress cloths the young woman, making the visible skin almost glow in contrast due to the fairness of the complexion, and the feet are bare.
"The circle is complete."
An audible snap and a hum of energies as the old man completes his circuit of the female, he turns to face the interior of the circle, but yet is outside of the arcane construction. The watery eyes show eagerness, the lust of not flesh, but power and the rewards therein. Hands rise to shoulder level, trembling with the weariness that comes with age, and a writhing sable aura forms upon the extremities.
"Come forth shadow and take your place."
All light in the room extinguishes, except for the unwavering scarlet circle, the darkness takes on a heaviness, and roils sluggishly within the constraints set by the old man. It seems to press against the barrier, pressure building, then just suddenly spills away as tendrils of the shadows find the slender form within the circle, and touch the pale skin. Hesitation, exploration, the darkness searches, brushing the fair cheek, and leaves an incomprehensible symbol behind. When one of the stands of shadow touch over the young woman's heart, it sticks fast, and the darkness in the scarlet circle sinks into the unmoving form.
"Rose of Shadows will know no peace."
Three years ago
"Rose, I need another."
"Merilith? Are you okay?" Emerald eyes flicker over to the speaker, a young man from the village, brawny and guileless, and a smile reshapes the scarlet lips. A pale hand rises to fan her face and the young woman refocuses her attention upon her companion. John, is his name, simple and direct, and just as refreshing as the cool water beckoning in the distance over the man's shoulder.
"What? Oh... yes, the heat of the day has me a little meandered, that is all."
"Are you sure?" He moves a little bit closer and his blue eyes search her countenance anxiously. "We could go back to the tavern, where is it cooler, and have a drink."
"NO!" Merilith places a hand upon his chest, right over the young man's heart, and his mouth closes shut with a snap. "I want you to show me how to fish. It will be cool over by the water and I will rest."
He shuffles for a moment, practicality warring with the desire to have this lovely creature all to himself, and Merilith mentally smiles as she reads the emotions plain as day. The young woman says nothing, letting her smile and pleading eyes shift the balance, and John gives in. "Well, I suppose you are right. It is cool over there, especially in the shade of the trees the line the other bank, but the minute you look like to be fainting again... straight back to the tavern we go!"
The young man turns and starts walking slowly towards the shimmering waters of the lake, missing completely the shadow that passes across Merilith's visage, and never noticing how the red tresses seem to darken. John keeps up a running talk all the way to the seclusion of the fishing hole, extolling the virtues of fishing, the right bait to use, and other issues that only a true enthusiast would comprehend. She says nothing, merely following in his chattering footsteps, taking an occasional glance backwards, and the foliage hides the buildings behind from view.
"Now Rose, let the shadows free."
Scarlet locks of hair billow about Merilith's face and ebony sparkles cascade from the fiery display of tresses. A symbol comes into full view upon the woman's right cheek, a writhing dark character, and it is not in common nor any language upon the world. The pupils of her emerald gaze become fathomless pools of shadows and just a expressionless. Merilith raises her slender hands, a dark lavender hue coruscates upon the dainty extremities, the green eyes narrow, and a lash of dark magic reaches towards the body in front of her.
John did not see the transformation occurring behind him, still talking, still blissfully thinking of enjoying the sight of the young woman trying for the first time to fish. A shock of pain comes from his back, burrowing into the spine, causing the young man's jaw to clench, and cutting off any sort of cry from his throat. The blue eyes bulge, hands reach and vainly grab for the source of the agony, and fails to stop the pain from increasing. It feels like his skeleton is being drawn out through his skin entire. Unfortunately for John, it is his soul, not the skeleton that is coming out, and the spell ends in a few seconds. A few seconds of endless pain and the young man's body falls.
Merilith stands still, the shadows from the trees moving about her, and she slowly lowers her hands. Within the fingertips is a small purplish crystal, pulsing with what seems like a heartbeat, and a tinny scream can be heard coming from this 'gem'. No expression is upon the beautiful features, no sign of thought, and no clue of remorse. A tentacle of shadow reaches up from the ground and the young woman relinquishes the newly caught soul to it's clutches. Once the soul shard is gone, a swirling darkness appears in front of her, and Merilith walks through without hesitation. Leaving behind the husk of a young man.
Two Years Ago
Merilith stands on a rise. It is night time and a canopy of stars spreads out over her head. The moonlight spills from above, the silvery radiance illuminating the farmlands down below, and the woman can see every detail clearly. However, it is not for this sight the young woman has come for, but rather the farm house that sits in the midst of the tilled lands.
The small, wooden house sits placidly in the middle of the fields; golden light shines from the windows and occasionally a form passes in front of the panes of glass. Earlier, she and the old man saw this structure in the light of day, with the owner out in the fields, a woman working about the house, and a pair of children playing in the yard. They both were standing upon the very same rise that Merilith found herself upon now and the old eyes start blazing with need. “You will come for them later, Rose.”
Now, the young woman watches the farmhouse, the familiar presence of the old one riding her mind, and slight mental shove sends her walking down the rise. When Merilith reaches the yard, the hateful voice of the creator slides into her conscious, and gives the instructions. “Summon up your shadow, Rose. It will be most useful.”
A tinge of remorse ghosts through the young woman, but there is no resistance. A glow surrounds Merilith’s hands, a symbol appears upon the dark ground, and shadows gather from all around her. The darkness coalesces into a form, inky black and writhing, complete with claws on the ends of the upper limbs, and it turns to look at the warlock. The old one gives some additional commands, Merilith nods in understanding, and sends the Voidwalker into the farmhouse. She follows it inside and after a minute… the screaming begins.
Crashing and banging echoes in the house, pleading and yelling drift into the uncaring night air, and the ghastly sounds of claws tearing through flesh. Long minutes pass and the ruckus quiets down, but does not totally disappear. The front door opens again and the scarlet tressed woman walks out of the portal into the moon-lit yard. Soft crying can be heard behind her as the ebon minion drifts out of the farmhouse… with the children in it’s black limbs.
Warlock and Voidwalker stride away from the wooden house and into the night. The old one will feast later upon the young souls of the children and two purplish shards occupy a space in Merilith’s pouch. If one listens close you can hear the twin screaming of a man and a woman, tinny and distant, and fades as the two forms crosses over the rise.
One and a half years ago
Another small town... people move about in a bustling display of everyday life. Children run about laughing, playing games of imagination, with puncutations of shrieks and exclamations of exuberance, and are darting about like dragonflies. The calls of vendors rise above the moving throng, proclaiming thier wares, and entreating passerbys to view these products of excellence.
Merilith and the old man walk through this, his expression cheerful and avidly taking in the views, and hers an impassive mask of indifference. "Such life, Rose! Do you not agree? Look at those children, all of the energy and exuberance of youth, and they fairly shimmer to the eye!"
She says nothing. Only a glimmer of something shows in her eyes, a fleeting sadness, an awareness of lost youth, and stolen dreams. The pair walk through the town and leave it behind, the noise of life diminishing behind them, and they come to an area of seclusion. An area of forest and underbrush, rustlings in the brush bespeak of small animals, and the old one turns abruptly into the woods.
The young woman follows in silence, but the old man fills the air between them with words. "You will get me one, Rose. I must have some of that youth. Walking by all of that is filling me with a hunger I have not had for quite sometime." He continues chattering to the silent female, even as they create a small campsite out of sight of the road, and wait for night.
Darkness. The night wreaths the woods. Absence of normal sound, not even the insects utter a noise, and feminine forms stand with unnatural stillness. Merilith, her black silken dress rustling in the dulsultry breeze, watchs with faint anger upon a familiar scene, and a drop of blood mars her pale features. A quiet giggle comes from next to the warlock, a creak of leather, and the young woman looks over at the succubus with quiet command. It stills, the alien eyes twinkling with amusement, and gazes with rapt attention at the other two figures in the camp.
The old man kneels beside a wiggling, moaning child; his aging hands softly touching the silken skin, and fairly trembling in excitement. "Shhhh... little one, this will not hurt, and soon you will be with your family again." A heaviness enters the grove, the darkness intensifies about the crouching figure, and obscures both from sight. A sound of terror, faint from the gag within the child's mouth, and fades with the disappearance of the swirling shadows.
It reveals the two forms to the watching warlock's sight, but the child no longer moves, and the sense of vitality is gone. The old one now vibrates with stolen life and Merilith clenchs one of her fists in futile anger. He looks up with a frown, feeling something, an emotion that he had thought gone from his tool, and purses his lips in thought. I will have to do something about that. My Rose cannot bare it's thorns to me.
One years age
A clatter of bones. A cool, stale brush of air upon skin. A whisper of a chant enters into the ears of the figure lying upon the worked stone of the chamber. Merilith stirs, the last wisps of a spell clearing from her mind and body, and the warlock tries to move... only to remain upon the floor.
She looks around at her body and sees that some kind of soft unyielding bands of ebon darkness hold her limbs still. Opening her mouth to utter a sound, Merilith tries to speak, but nothing stirs the air from her attempt, and she notices a band of the ebon darkness covering her mouth. Who has done this? Where am I? What am I doing here?
"Rose, look at me."
The cheerful and cherubic voice of the old one breaks the silence of the room, the hateful tone of a confident master, and she tenses upon hearing it. Unable to do anything else, the warlock turns her head in the direction of the voice, and looks upon the one she has come to hate more than anything else in this lifetime. Merilith also notices the lit candles at his feet, spreading in an arc around her, and the soft glow of the waxy sticks makes an aura of warmth about the wizened figure. A sinking feeling flows over her body and soul...
"Time to remove what is not needed, Rose. You have developed compassion for your victims and have come to hate me... ME!" In the first time in her memory, the old raises his voice, the ire and anger almost searing the warlock's mind, and he visibly regains control to continue in a more normal tone of voice. "I made you. I gave you what powers you control. Now it is time to finish what I have started."
He extends his hands out over the frantically struggling body of Merilith and pressure grows in the chamber as the power gathers with the swirling shadows that start to encircle the female's body. A heaviness grabs at the warlock's thoughts as tendrils of the darkness pierce her skull, probing for what the old one wants removed from her psyche, and a dull pain spreads throughout her body.
"By the light! What goes here!"
The ringing voice only intensifies the pain, but the probing stops, and Merilith slumps in her bindings... barely conscious. A wordless snarl is the old one's reply at the interruption and the sounds of conflict arise. Shadows and holy light clash in the chamber over the prone body, the swoosh of a large chunk of metal swinging through the air, and the shouting of words of power. Normally, the old man would be able to dispose of such an opponent without difficulties, but he has put so much into the spell still hovering over his tool, and no time to withdraw the power back into himself.
Next sensation Merilith feels is the bonds falling away from her limbs and a sigh of pain escapes from the scarlet lips. A metal-clad arm encircles the woman's shoulders, lifting her up from the cold floor, and the warlock's head rolls back bonelessly. In the last moments before darkness claims her sense and sight, Merilith sees a shining form with a kindly face, dismay and compassion radiating from this stranger, and then she loses all hold of the world.
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