Two years had been spent within the consciousness of Annaliese Handhour. For all the work she had done in nurturing the darkness in her vessel, Serah D'Mort found she was at her pinnacle to take over the woman's body. No doubt, the construct Knath had contributed to this---she couldn't have known that the power of her family had collected in the survivor, Damos. His existence was convenient, still, and Serah aimed to make sure something would come of a union. A child was needed to continue the D'Mort legacy. With such a child, she would come into power among the coven in its creation.
Yet, Serah had been distracted, by these Scions of Darkness, and their leader, Keruptis. The sense of belonging among the Order was strong in her vessel, and Serah could not help but share it. This was bonding, and dramatic tension, rivalries…ah! Just like being at home once again. Their faiths bound them together, she saw, however. Even in the most dire of situations, they pooled together as a force of reckoning, just as the D'Mort family had done when their way of life was threatened.
And then the blossoming attraction she had forged wilted away, ending in Knath's death. Serah fumed away at the wretched soul she was intertwined with---she had put forth much effort into the planned resurrection of Malcutis and Delilah D'Mort. She hadn't solidified her hold over the vessel enough to wrestle control away from Annaliese, and now the plan had been further trampled upon. Bastion's end was forseen, as Serah saw the insanity in him boil over and overwhelm him, making him little more than a liability---he could hardly differentiate between her or the soul of the vessel anymore, in his infatuation. Such a powerful anchor of talent was lost however, in his death, and Serah had been forced to act rashly.
She gave far too much slack to Annaliese. That would have to change.
Warlocks--the most cunning of them anyway--found death to be hardly an impediment in a goal. Demonic pacts often were saw through death, with proper offerings made. The D'Mort family perhaps was the most devoted in their gain of absolute power. Ritualistic sacrifice, consumption of life forces, and the catering to forces beyond the world of Azeroth---nothing was made impossible to the blood warlocks among the coven, even the murder of their own to usurp any increment of power. Weak members of the Clan D'mort were never suffered to live long.
Serah knew of her mistake the day she let herself become pregnant with the child. Indeed, she had tried to find ways to rid herself of it, for children born out of the line of the D'Morts were worthless to the familial magic, unpure. She had displeased Malcutis most, as he had chosen her to receive his child, and she had betrayed the pact with her own. Diseased and outcast, Serah had promised the child as a sacrifice to Malcutis' ritual, in a desperate move to redeem herself.
And even in this, she had failed. Perhaps she had become weak with affection to her lover. It was no matter. To Serah, this only meant one thing, with the uprising of her family against her and Bastion Delaurac. The Family D'Mort's interests had to be….rearranged. The usurping of their power with their deaths was phenomenal, yet she was still not in favor to the Dreadlord Ra'theron,
Apparently, Ra'theron was nothing if not amused by the whole matter. After all, Serah still existed, whereas most of her clan's souls had been consumed by the demon. All would have to be rectified quickly, she knew, while their demonic benefactor still had patience.
"Ah, Anna. Finally you've come around," Knath purred out to the woman in his arms. Serah smiled and drowned away Annaliese's consciousness in another gulp of the alcohol--she wouldn't let the weakling spoil this. She grinned teasingly at the renewed construct. He and Serah both were no doubt indebted to Malcutis' meddling with the construct's essence. The ritual magic had mended him perfectly, so quickly after Annaliese had destroyed him.
….no…
Serah screeched in her mind as Anna stirred, fighting the control of her body. A change of scenery was needed…
"Take me away from here," Serah murmured with a grin. It was all falling into her plan, at last. She leaned into the rather amused Knath, murmuring promises into his ear, lighting his imagination with possibilities. Ah, the wonders of Darkmoon Reserve. Ms. Handhour certainly did not take alcohol well, Serah had learned.
….help me…! Anna whispered weakly inside of her own trapped mind, hoping against hope, that someone, anyone might save her. But it was too late.
A hazy trip soon after, and Knath had whisked his prize for the eve to the forests of Ashenvale. Stumbling on through Astraanar, the lady slumped over Knath as he ushered her to the edge of the town. Serah bubbled now in the intoxicated body, scheming--perhaps she could convince Knath to siphon Annaliese's soul and consume it, and finally end this tired "game". Perhaps then the true work could begin, without the Handhour's meddling.
As the two laughed and whispered amongst themselves, a figure caught the corner of Serah's eye. Serah froze in the presence, the stink of the Cathedral dog making her simmer inside. Knath too, was not impressed. Immediately, his arm slinked away from her waist in the presence of the priest, his interests dissuaded.
"Niklos," he sighed tiredly. Knath gave his own robes a brisk tug, straightening them.
"Sir Knath…" Niklos murmured in faint greeting. His eyes shifted to her from behind his scholarly glasses. "There you are, Anna…"
"…go away. Busy…" Serah managed to slur, stumbling back a few steps, before falling on the grass, unable to keep balanced between the frantic surfacing of Anna's consciousness and the alcohol. Anna must have somehow contacted the man--Serah had not realized how strong the woman's ties were to the priest, nor had she realized how quickly he could change into something resembling a human with the damned trinket he had. The body, even now, crawled forward to him, as Anna wailed inside the prison of her own mind. Serah growled from within, digging her nails into the soil to stop herself, determined to be in control. The body would be hers!
…niklos…!
The priest stiffened, already Knath had left the scene, much to Serah's dismay. She rose, dominating the mind and body entirely. The warlock grinned maliciously.
"You are not….Anna…"
"Oh! What a darling! Give the Dog a cookie!" Serah chortled, twisting the genuinely gentle voice into something else. "I would suggest you not interfere, if you care for this…vessel."
Serah D'Mort grinned, stretching as she filled the ends of the vessel with her presence. "Mmm. I might even let you take the weakling's soul away with you if you're good. I certainly don't need her anymore."
The priest merely stared back at her, silent. His eyes gleamed, melting the emerald color to an unearthly yellow, revealing the truth of his existence. The Forsaken made her sick, utterly…sick.
"Or perhaps I'll have use for her after all. Her soul would make a lovely offering, don't you think?" Serah hissed the threat between her teeth. "I owe you nothing, imposter."
"You are one to speak," the priest replied in a calm tone, as if he spoke to a child. "Come here…"
"….no!" Serah struggled, feeling a -tug- on her essence. "The body is mine! I will not let you spoil this…."
Before a curse could be uttered, a snap of magic ensnared her, and whipped her out of the body. She writhed in her spirit form as the body crashed to the grass, everything she had fought for lost. She screamed her hatred out at the priest. Little slivers of magic twined, entrapping her, cutting her off from possessing the body once more.
'I shall send you myself to the depths of Oblivion, you wretch! You sniveling pig! Release me!'
Zamboozle merely stared down the petulant spirit, as if staring at a fitful child.
"You do not belong here, Lady D'Mort."
He turned his back to the growing portal that ripped through reality then, the demonic world melting through. The fear of the warlock was palpable, as the Dreadlord R'atheron eyed her through the ripped expanse. Serah D'mort screamed in terror as a fel-touched whip ensnared her, breaking the prison of soft magic. It would be a scream that would stain the world of spirits for days to come.
"Time for me to collect, Serah D'Mort…." The demon cackled as he drug her soul to his domain, fulfilling the age old pact the D'Mort family always promised: the offering of souls to Him. The Medic picked up his unconscious love, ignoring the last vestiges of the spirit's screams as the portal closed.
"A pact is a pact," he muttered simply. Annaliese's eyes began to flutter open. Never had she felt such peace of mind, peace of heart. A soft smile touched her lips, finding herself in the arms of her love.
"…what happened…?"
Gentle fingers brushed over Anna's cheek, his voice soft. He had won her over, yet again.
"An end, my love. An end."
No comments:
Post a Comment