The dark figure was hunched over in an elderly state as it dragged a large rustic crate among the rocky slopes of Relewiese Hallow. It was dark in color; the embodied fabric was torn and looked like it had seen better days, and however it served its purpose well.
Continuing down the harden terrain, the black figure came to a halt before the entrance of the cavern known as Relewiese Hallow. It had been abandoned after the spiritual conversion of an entelexia and now it would sit empty; never to be entered by another person until now. It would suffice for the purpose of the dark hunched figure. Dragging the crate behind it, the entity made its way through the cave, going down the winding path way and into the main area of the cavern; this is where most thought the cavern would end, but, they would be mistaken.
Muttering and stepping onto the middle, the dark one uttered an incoherent murmur and as if it was some trigger, the middle ground began to slowly detach itself from the rock walls that supported the cavern in its entirety. Down it went, slow and low, down into the darkness of the earth. Once the platform had come to a halt, the figure moved down the darken path and entered a large stone like temple, deeper and deeper, the air became thin and one would lose breath if they weren't use to such a condition.
Once in the womb of the unknown temple, the figure stopped upon seeing another cloaked in black. Nearly instantly, the black figure dropped the crate there and bowed in respect.
"Have you done what I asked?" the cloaked figure, not turning to face the dark figure.
"Y-Yes, my lady." Replied the kneeling one, slowly it took its stand.
"Ah, it has been a long time, but now you have the samples we need, very good Prowling, very good indeed." The cloaked figure removed her hood; a wave of dark curls cascading around her body, her skin was white as if she was made from porcelain, her face was lack of any kind of age line, like a mask, and often Prowling wondered what devil pact she had made for time to stop itself from enrapturing her.
"My lady Lucifer…" The servant Prowling spoke up and motioned to the crate she had been carrying. "Now that we have the samples…what is the next step of the plan?"
The woman turned, her eyes were glowing dim and they were terrifying. The iris was the color of blood, a scarlet hue that left a chill of eeriness running through you like sweat from a brow. The pupil was black like most, but what most frightened her was the sclera, those whom normally had whites of their eyes, however, her master's were a deep black, darker than night itself. She was a horrifying figure, and Prowling had a tinge of fear that she wasn't entirely human.
"The next step...My dear servant…."
A chill ran through the servant's body as she stared at the glimmering fang like teeth of her master in a Cheshire like grin.
"…Is Blood."