Towards the Darkness
Truly a prince of the ravens, he thinks. The raven princess, wanting him to be hers forever, has tainted his heart. He does not despise her for it, or even care. He tells her of his supposed love, seeing her grateful sigh and the softening of her red eyes. She does not notice how his flickering mauve eyes speak of contempt when he looks at her. They do not belong together.
A thousand complaints fly in his mind. She matches him too closely—the darkness in her heart mirrors his own—he sees the void in himself in her heart—for while he stares into the abyss, he knows the darkness curls, like tendrils of ravenous black flame, around his heart as well—
It is only natural, he supposes, that the creature he has become is drawn towards the light. The lost, innocent souls flock to him, and he has come so, so close to devouring one of their hearts. Like a dazzling whiteness, she leaps to the rescue, at once gentle and blindingly radiant.
He knows she is pure, uncorrupted, and that is precisely why she is so effective in hindering his ability to draw the hearts of those innocent souls. She does not feel the temptation that he does, cannot sense the tantalizing lure of the black void.
Wasn't I like that once? He wonders, as his defenses crumble before her. Was I that virtuous, that whole?
While she draws the innocent girl to safety, he cannot fix his resolve. He is weakened already, and his thoughts instead wander to her heart. Somehow, he knows that her heart already belongs to him—that she is his, for the light cannot shine without the darkness.
What troubles him is that his heart has, without his permission, become hers.