They say that you never really know someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes. That you'll never understand the demon without first spending an eternity in their hell. That you cannot comprehend why the monster hides in darkness until you've been born into their abyss.
I intended to find out.
It wasn't difficult to do. The materials were obtained quite simply. Pentagrams are easy to draw. Blood even easier. Bibles are free to those who ask for them. Fire even more so, and you might even receive a bonus cigarette for doing so.
The instructions were quite clear. Light the book ablaze. Deeply inhale the stench of smoldering ink and holy ashes. Whisper the name of your target into the mirror, which by then you have painted a pentagram upon in your own blood. The liquid that was once yours will begin to glow, burn with dark magic and demonic energies.
The voice's questions will be simple.
"Who?"
You need only answer accordingly. "Mephiles the Dark."
"Why?"
Do not lie to the voice. The penalty is eternal damnation. "Vengeance."
"Who?"
Then comes the final step. Behold to the voice an article of your target's desires; something they cherish or yearn for deeply. It can be difficult to choose such an item correctly. However, in my case, the answers were obvious.
"Shadow the hedgehog," I growled into the glass. I raised my hand and presented a photograph taken decades ago; a small picture of an old man and his granddaughter.
I remember the howling screeching that overtook my eardrums and made them ooze with hot, thick blood. I recall the blazing inferno that blasted from the mirror and slammed my body into the concrete wall behind me. I can still see the talons of the devil clawing away at my flesh, digging through bone and locking around my heart. The unbearable pressure. The seething hiss. The fading life.
Congratulations. You have successfully Soul-Jumped.
Perhaps some explanation is required. You're probably faced with three, burning questions as you're reading this now, whenever that may be. Let me help your puny, mortal brain understand.
Who?
I am Mephiles the Dark. Conscience, mind, and will of the sun god Solaris. Spawned from the Scepter of Darkness in the form of Shadow the hedgehog.
How?
The will of divinity is a strange, cruel, and powerful mistress. Solaris may no longer exist, but my individual soul survived despite the separation. Now I live free from the ties of masters and gods.
Why?
I believe I stated it earlier on. I wished for revenge. Not just revenge. Vengeance in its purest, rawest form. I wished to delve into the minds of my enemies and pry them apart from the inside-out. Then the buzzards of hell would feast upon their exposed corpses, gnawing at their bones until their untimely deaths. Of course, it would then fall upon I to deliver the killing-blow.
It was for this reason that I tapped into the powers-satanic. To truly bring hurt, to truly kill, one must first live. There are two sides to the coin of life and death. The victim, and the killer.
I had to first know victimization in order to kill. And Shadow the hedgehog was only the beginning.
Soul-Jumping is a complex and otherworldly process unknown by most of mankind. While the idea takes root in some variations of Satanism, its true origin is steeped in darkness and mystery. It is a practice based upon the ancient art of possession, a tool used by devil-worshipers and dark forces alike.
Soul-Jumpers, a species of which I have recently joined the ranks of, have two special powers when using their ability. Mainly, Soul-Jumpers are able to shift their conscious mind, or moreover their very soul, into the body of another person.
Once inside, one can either manipulate the physical body, or simply observe the soul from within. Basically, you can either control or watch. For what I intended to do, I first needed to watch. Perhaps, dear reader, the controlling shall come later.
Shadow the hedgehog awoke alone in his small, one-room apartment, with cold, gray light piercing his eyes. I felt the sharp, throbbing pain of a hangover in the forefront of his skull, the sound pounding through my being as though it were my mind infested with alcohol.
He raised a hand in order to block out the bright light of dawn that glared from the window before us. There was a deep roaring sound that came from his throat as he stood from his bed, and I realized he was yawning.
"Goddamn..."
His dark, brooding voice rumbled from his chest, and it felt as though I was speaking without sound. And then I realized that he was talking to himself.
I would have smiled had it been physically possible.
Good morning, Shadow the hedgehog.