He hung suspended in something that he couldn't see. He felt it though, on his skin, in his skin, in his heart. It was his blood, a sea of it, still, forlorn, but fresh and crimson like a murder. This place was new, its existence, its purpose, had only just been fully realized. Such odd thoughts that ran through his head, that was just like him to be thinking such things. He tried to laugh and it came out wrong, a strangled croak that made his throat burn. Where was he? He knew, he swore he knew, but the memory wouldn't come.
He tried to stand but he had no legs.
He tried to reach but he had no arms.
He tried to breath but he had no lungs.
He tried to feel but his skin only burned.
But he could hear. There was something pounding inside his ear, tearing and grinding, ripping and shredding. A sound- a voice and another and another- gnashing in his head like grinding glass, shards broke and tumbled and turned in a deadly dance as he was killed from the inside.
This feeling was so familiar, so welcoming, so inviting. It promised release from the inferno that consumed his body, promised all he'd been deprived. And it promised something that he knew not the meaning, only the value. Something he'd sought and lost so many times before.
My servant that exists somewhere in this vast universe!
The sound...
The wailing of the damned...
It promised him an end...
Offered him the death that had alluded him for so long (Too long why should he live while suffered and died and bleed and...!).
The gnashing grew louder, closer, outstretched arms beckoning him to the rest he deserved!
My divine, beautiful, wise, and powerful servant, heed my call!
A little closer.
I desire and here I plead from my heart!
The sound, deafening...
Closer, please...
Answer my guidance...
Finally...
And appear!
Louise knew she was terrible at magic. She would never tell anyone, not even in the strictest of confidence, not even to her beloved sister. She'd even lie to herself every once in a while.
I am Louise de la Valliere and though I cannot perform magic as aptly as my peers my mind is rife with a knowledge of magical theory second to none. Perhaps I'll never levitate, perhaps my mother will be disappointed but I do not care. I will shine in my own way, just as Cattleya says.
They were pretty words, doused in platitudes, and they helped on the bad days. The memory of her beloved sister helped on the worse ones. And sometimes, in brief, frantic moments, it all came crashing down upon her shoulders, bringing her to her knees and forcing deep shuddering breaths to escape her lungs.
It was those brief moments of weakness snatched away in the privacy of her room that she had poured into her words. Every bit of her shame and her fear. Every disparaging word that had every been said to her by her unrelentingly cruel peers and every bit of the ugly, pulsating, anger that she had locked away behind her mothers Rule of Steel. She twisted it, shaped all of that negativity into an oath that resonated with her soul.
And with all of her classmates judging eyes upon her, she cast.
In another place, far removed from the material world of vice and sin, someone -something- had wished for death, be it bloody or calm. He'd found it, finally, a beautiful place to rest his head for eternity. A black tempest tinged with fire and screeching with the souls of the damned. He smiled, the most at peace he'd ever been.
And snatched away from his doom by a green tinged portal.
Hell once again walked the Earth.