Depravity. Even its name is poisonous, rolling of the tongue in that sickeningly sweet way. It is a disease of the soul — once you fall claim to its claws you are infected, cursed. Ah, but it's more than just a sickness.
No, it is alive. It speaks with an alluring voice, tempting all that come close with promises of happiness and salvation. It beckons you to come closer with that sweet smile, those warm arms, that sense of security.
"Come to me, "it says, its voice dripping with sweet poison, "and I shall save you from this wretched Fate." But if you reach for its hand you find yourself flung down the spiraling staircase of despair. Only agony waits for you at Depravity's side, for Depravity is a liar, a wretched thing that preys on those in need. Depravity is a beast, a wretched demon that consumes both mind and soul.
Once Depravity sinks its hidden fangs into you, escape is impossible. It worms itself into your core, infecting you from the inside out. Slowly it consumes you, until there is nothing left but corruption itself. Happiness dwindles away as does life. You laugh but it is empty, hollow. There is nothing behind it. Frustration takes hold and you lash out — violent streaks that only succeed in staining the ground red. Where is this 'happiness' you promised me? But there is no answer. It answers to no one, nothing but itself.
You grow cold, emotionless, yet you continue to seek out things that make you feel alive. You try killing — perhaps the act of taking life will give meaning to your own. And so you kill, murder, torture — you laugh in the faces of the innocent, grin as they scream out with expressions of fear decorating their visage. For a brief moment, a fleeting moment, you are happy. But that is gone again, devoured by Depravity the moment everyone is dead. You move on to the next village.
Boredom. You find that sitting around makes you itch, that doing nothing causes you to groan, but that is because Depravity starts to whisper in your ear in those moments. You become a pest, finding idle enjoyment as you watch people squirm under your constant prodding — oh how amusing it is, watching people try to maintain composure. But it's only a distraction. After all, you can't annoy the nightmares away.
Endless nights are your enemy, nightmares being Depravity's soldiers of choice. Constantly you find yourself submerged in darkness, assaulted by all that which you fear you scream in the night, but no one can hear you. You room is isolated. Depravity can't stand other people, thus neither can you. Isolation.
You need to act out. Violence has become an addiction. War is a necessity, and so you start it. You cast your darkness over the world for your own enjoyment — for Depravity's enjoyment. You have been consumed, a slave to the sickness that rots your mind. You laugh as people die — blood decorates the ground, pooling around you. A grin decorates your face — pain. Your eyes widen, look down. You've been run through.
At last you can leave this Hell known as life — ah-ah-ah, Depravity is not done with you yet. It holds you, prohibits you from returning to the Flow, to the light. It turns to you, bearing that wretched smile.
"Judal, my old friend," says Depravity, capturing you in an embrace, "now we can spend all of eternity together. Remember this, child, you are mine and mine alone. I shall never let anything else have you."