What happened that night was Malice. It screamed through the skies, pierced the hearts of thousands. I was standing next to Sharon that night, and one beam shot into her chest--at the time she only looked down and touched the spot, startled, but later, later, she was crying and raving, her eyes glowing red with hate. Her gift of summoning had become a curse; she was calling forth monsters at the slightest provocation, no longer able to restrain herself. Eventually, the only way to end her madness was to kill her.
She was my best friend, but she probably doesn't mean a thing to you. So here's something you can relate to: your neighbor, your brother, the stranger you pass on the street, your lover? Any of them could be just like Sharon. The bible says that faith is like a mustard seed, but Malice is just the same: it starts out subtle, something too small to notice, then grows and grows until its roots are entrenched in your soul and its branches bear the bitter fruits of violence and death.
Hell, you could have been touched by Malice. Do you get irritated easily? Nurse a grudge? Ever wish someone would die, or think of bumping them off yourself? Maybe you're just a regular human being. Maybe you're Malice incarnate. No one will know until your first killing spree.
But you're confident you're normal. After all, that's why you came to me, isn't it? Protection against the monsters. Funny, you're looking at one right now. Someone told you I was a blacksmith, didn't they? I don't make weapons. People insist on calling me "blacksmith", or for the more "creative", soulsmith or gravesmith. A few call me devil; those are the smart ones. It was no surprise a child like me, someone who could bind souls and drag them down, would end up on the streets. The surprise is that in these last few years, people have come to me begging for a cursed weapon to protect themselves with. In this world, I am desired. That's how I know we're in hell, but no one else realizes it.
Huh. So the "I'm a devil" shpiel hasn't scared you off. Desperate, huh? Good. You shouldn't be in here if you aren't. What did you bring? A scarf? Interesting. So many people come with daggers or guns or axes, but mundane items are better, because you can carry them around you anywhere and no one will bat an eye. They're a bit of a challenge, though; have to find just the right soul for it. The last odd weapon I did was a jump rope for a little girl. She wasn't scared off when I told her about demons and Malice, just said she needed a weapon and gave me her jump rope. So I bound to it a soul of another girl, one who had been poisoned by her father, and the very next day the girl came back with the jump rope, bloodied, in one hand, and a bunch of picked flowers in the other. See that vase over there? All those. Held 'em so carefully so they didn't touch the jump rope. Thanked me and left the flowers and got out. Children are intriguing. Malleable and rigid and vicious, so goddamn vicious. Sharon ripped apart any person who tried to cross her.
