I do not own Harry Potter, but I do own the books and movies.
Warning: This work of fiction contains mentions of rape, alcohol consumption, profanity, mentions of abuse (sexual, physical, and mental), abuse, and gore. This will be the only warning. If you cannot tolerate such things, then I implore you not to read it. If I do write anything too gory, will soften it and post the unedited version on another site for those who wish to read the full version.
Thank you!
As always, enjoy!
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Encomium Ombre
Chapter One
Praeteritum vox
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Cloaked in the steely grey of the horizon,
He trailed after through the night
Commissioned by the repetitive pounding
Of an ancient heart.
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Saturday August 5th ,1994
In the shrine of the night, one was lead to believe that the figure was nothing more than an illusion displeased by the uncomfortable heat. But no one knew more certainly that the gift that the man wielded would prove to be more than a feigned soul wandering around the dead of night. So, when the simple-minded occupants of the town's main square came waltzing into the local pub for a late night drink and hours of light conversation his presence came unnoticed. What they did not know was that he was very much real, and was on a mission of the most sinister sorts.
His shadow followed right after him, stretching as far as its boundless limitations would allow it. Looking over his shoulder as the wind caught up, his cold, black eyes came to rest on his surroundings. An unpleasant wave of buried reminders was unearthed.
The air was unbearable humid, and as he pressed against the still wind, he came across a scene all too familiar. A tale as ancient as the soil it took place on came to mind. Still as fresh as the planted bud, he could recollect the tragedy that happened on the soil in which he treaded. All too purposely, however, he kicked the debris and rocks, as if rectifying what those bastards of old had done to his soul so many years ago. Nothing could come from retribution unless he sought it out with a whole heart. And that was exactly what he wished to do; unfortunately, the time for that was not this night and he had to wait to get it.
'This is the right place,' came a voice and he nodded.
"You are right," he commended for his dormant self for speaking. It was times like this that placed a rift between them; both were dominantly present deities that wished to be heard. "I can feel her energy"
'You are a clever boy,' the voice chuckled.
"We are the same, are we not?" he asked with a growl. "Come, I must get a closer look at the grounds.
His long search has brought him to a small town along the name of Little Hangleton. Legends tell of its cursed grounds, of a horrific crime done a woman of worship. For thousands of years, those who supposedly had connections to this woman and the men involved were thrown into a damnation, a kind of brutality, that was impossible to come out of.
Just over the hill stood a shabby home. Most of its windows had been boarded up, tiles were missing from the roof, and the once grandiose building had submitted to the decrepit purpose of being nourishment for the ground in which it stood. Embodied with the echoing screams of the individuals who died, the shadow man looked at it with gripping respect before moving on.
He remained silent. As the night, one may say. His nature was nurtured by the encompassing terrain. It was easy to blend into such a place; none of the villagers were aware of his presence. Even in their deluded state, he was able to blend into the place remarkably well. As he came to rest his feet upon the breast of Gaia, he was able to relieve himself of the prevailing reluctance that came from his travels.
'Our travels have finally brought us where we must be, boy.'
He watched as the formidable manifestation of irritation came to life right before his eyes. The symbol of his being was nothing more than a silvery snake casted by the shimmery glow of the moonlight. As a part of him, the man was the true master. For he has been roaming the earth through countless guises for centuries on the search for his missing heart.
"You do not say?" he asked sarcastically. "I wish to know why you have brought me here."
'For the very reason of coming to terms what has been done in the past.' Came the snake's reply. Its shadow intertwined with his and slithered about playfully as if to get him to become one with excitement. But, he could not. Not when there was so much at stake and nothing to be excited about. 'Why do you think you feel a connection here?'
"We have yet to determine that," the young man said through a forcefully clenched jaw. He was itching to reprimand him for even suggesting such a thing. How can it when a ritual has yet to be performed? "How much further?" he asked instead.
'We are here.' Came its reply. 'You must determine with your own heart and awaken your dormant magic.'
With that, the snake's shadow slithered away and back to whence it came.
The man's eyes combed the surrounding buildings until they landed upon an openly lit tavern. The snake's haunting words played like an old chord that no matter how hard he willed it, it would not disappear. He could not focus on the task at hand when the remaining half of his heart was aching so. Somewhere out there, she was hurting as well. Whoever it was, he must act quick and align their bodies and souls back up before it was too late.
There, as he reached the grand center of the village, he made his way into the parlor and released the hold he had on the night. His shadow casted away, he was able to breath in the celestial air and relinquish himself of three days of travel. He walked in, gaining no attention whatsoever as he ventured to the back of the tavern and ordered a drink to cool and numb his nerves.
Just as he sat down, his robes bellowing out before him in a godless wind, he caught onto the beginnings of what would be an interesting conversation.
" 'eard 'im not too long ago, I did." said a man with a filthy layer of grim coating his skin. He had come from a long day of work and seemed to be in a desperate need of relaxation. And that came in the form of a good brandy and gossip of the inappropriate sort. "Seen 'im lingering 'round the ol' Riddle House just down the street. Seemed to be he's reliving the day o' their deaths, I reckon."
"Oh!" came a woman's shrilled voice as she joined in on the conversation. She was a pudgy little woman with dark hair sprinkled with grey and white. Her face was red, and had several suspicious spots dotting her face. "Come off it, Riley! Always tryn'a stur up the dirt."
"No one's tryn'a stur up the dirt, Dot." The man by the name of Riley grumbled, shifting comfortably back in his chair. "Jus' tryn'a make conversation."
A man on the other side of the table laughed aloud. "What, with old news, eh?"
"S'not old news, mind." said Riley as he grumbled and leaned back in his chair. "That place is haunted, it is. Been hearing strange things come from it all week an' I reckon someone should go check it out."
"Perhaps you should check it out, then, Riley?" His companion said with a challenging, toothless grin. "Been hearing things, yeah? Might as well go an' see what's causing all the ruckus yourself."
Riley bit back a cunning retort. He did not engage them any further about the Riddle house and its mysterious occupants. Truth be told, he would much rather discuss the recent news involving the disappearance of one of the government officials. She had been last seen outside her workplace last Thursday night and no one has seen her since. But, he knew very well that his drinking buddies wouldn't be up for such a boring conversation about some poor woman getting lost in the dead of night. Their unnoticed guest sure didn't want to bring about boredom by searching his mind with a fruitful attempt to find out what he meant by that he has seen him.
Whoever he had been talking about must have been someone very close to the Riddles, otherwise he wouldn't have brought it up. The shadowed man, hidden in the back of the tavern, knew of the man he spoke of. He's seen him as well, but from a distance.
He was an old, decrepit little man with a limp to his step. From what he has gathered, he's been to war and came back to tend to the garden on the Riddle's small estate. Half a decade ago they lived there. Until this day, their deaths have been nothing short than a mystery. Rumors, really. No one knew the actual facts of how they came to pass; only speculation circulated around the events, embroidered elegantly through the years. The main practitioner being Frank Bryce.
The shadowed man leaned back in his own chair and focused his attention on the man who brought up the sullied tale. Of course, he had been right. Lead to believe that something other than natural causes had occurred in those hallowed walls took place, but he did not know the entire truth. No one did for that matter. His interest in the case intrigued him, and it was with the encouragement of his magic that brought brand new life into the dead conversation. This time, it was not the man who began its tale that brought it up. He sent his magic to the old woman, and forced the words right out of her mouth.
"Been fifty years," she said softly, her gaze travelling to one of the few opened windows. The occupants of the tavern were very much inclined to permeate in their own filth and alcoholic beverage of their choice. "Suppose there really isn't much left to say about 'em, eh?"
"What do you mean, Dottie dear?"
"I mean, they've been cursed. Had what was coming to 'em at the very beginning." said Dot. "Messin' 'round with whatever they was messin' with, it was no surprise that it finally nipped 'em in the arse."
There was a collective grunt of approval that conjured around the large table as each of them tried to place their versions of the tale. All of which came to the shadowed man as nothing more than falsified accusations. None of them knew the truth; it seemed it was up to him to find out what this curse that the woman had thrown around was about and get to the bottom of it before he departed.
He wanted to go to the house and read its magical makeup and see for himself what had caused the death of three perfectly healthy family members. No one just dies without explanation, and for three people to die in the same mysterious fashion was simply suspicious. Even as a demonic spirit, people came to worship him and deliver gifts unto him, but he could not recall receiving anything form the Riddles. After thousands of years, their name did not pop up. Not even once.
Through the years, he has been able to keep track of everything and anything that may pass through his borders. Rarely did he ever venture to the earthly plane, finding its boarding traces a bit too unnerving. When he did, however, it was to mark a new dawn all in hopes of finding his missing heart, only to be sourly disappointed. He has come to the realization that he will never be able to find her. That is, until he felt her heartbeat.
Wherever she was, she was thriving and he would be damned if anyone stood in the way of getting to her.
A ritual must be done in order to pinpoint his missing part; if only he could get these drunkards to speak. It would give him some sort of ground to work on.
Again, he urged them to talk, proving the will and mind of a human sufficiently less powerful than that of a God.
"What curse are you talkin' 'bout, Dottie?"
Dot shook her head, her voice taken from her for a moment before it was given back to her. "Aye, a curse. Some say it's been placed on the grounds before anyone of us were even born. Others, well, they say it came with the family."
"Well, which do you believe?"
The woman looked around apprehensively. If this was the moment that the shadow man was waiting for her to speak than this would be it. He wanted to know; no, he needed to know. Whatever unforeseeable reason that gripped the family and cursed them into oblivion had to be brought to light.
"I think," she looked at each of them before leaning and whispering," that you lot have had enough to drink."
The men bellowed and hollered with all their might, and no matter how much they tried, they couldn't get her to talk.
"Oh, shush the whole lot o' ya!" she hissed. "Always coming 'ere and making such a fuss. Why don't you all go back to your wives and families and stop makin' a pest of yerselves?"
"I came 'ere to relax, not to be nagged by the missus!" yelled one of them as he slammed his tumbler on the table, demanding another round for his mates. "Come and entertain us like you always do, Dottie." He winked, a disgusting smile stretching across his face. Several of his teeth were missing; what little that remained were yellow, and there was something black lining his gums. His hair was thinning; a bald spot sat atop the crown of his head.
Not sort of the attractive man that she was looking for. He would never do.
"Aye, wha'ever happened to that family to have a curse placed on 'em."
"That's what I'd like to know," said someone as they took a long swig of their drink. "Must've been somethin' really bad for it to befall all three of 'em. Reckon Frank has somethin' to do wif it?"
"Wouldn't get it passed him, I wouldn't." another man chimed in. "Always been ruddy strange."
"I say they got what was comin' to 'em," said a man, pounding his fast, chubby fist against the wooden table in a fit of demanding rage. "That girl an' that man. Their boy was no better. A lil' strange if you ask me. The whole lot of 'em, they were! Gla' that they're gone."
From what he was able to gather, the man had been but a teenager when he first encountered the Riddles.
"Oh, Richie," Dot chimed in, reprimanding him for his drunken delusions. Out of all the travelers, he had to be the most open-minded. Both in his sober and drunken states. "Must you say such things?"
"Why the hell not?" he took another chug from his tumblr, splashing the contents all over the front of his cotton shirt and black trousers. He burped loudly, gaining a few hoots that sounded all over the room. His gaze was fixed on the woman behind the bar. "Always running 'round like they owned the damn place. Shame that they didn't get the boy. S'a bunch of weirdos if you ask me!"
"No one asked you," growled a voice.
Everyone turned around, trying to find the owner of the threatening voice. Once they did, they sunk into their seats and said nothing.
"D'you dot a problem, Walsh?" asked the man. "Got something ter say, now do we?"
He shook his head and took a leisure swig from his tumblr.
"Leave 'im alone Richie!" Dot bellowed from the bar.
The man by the name of Richie shot a nasty look towards the bar where the entrance to the kitchen was located. Giving the woman a rather obscene gesture, he elicited a deep, throaty roar from his mates.
Dot rolled her eyes and walked away, venturing to the back of the room where she knew she was safe from their antics. The men hooted loudly until their voices dialed down to nothing but a few grunts and groans. None of them spoke for quite some time and as the woman by the name of Dot came by to refill his tumbler, the man held out a hand over it in anticipation what was to come.
"I do hope they aren't bothering you, lad." she said, smiling. "They aren't so bad once yeh get to know 'em."
"That's quite alright," he said, returning the smile. "I'm used to such a boisterous atmosphere."
"Ah, yeh are?"
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am." The man told her politely. "I go to school with some… interesting individuals. You know how they can be."
"Ah, s'been some years but I remember." She chuckled unevenly. "Can I get yeh anything else?'
The man looked up at her with imploring eyes but shook his head. Just as she smiled, turned around to walk away, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. She spun to look at him, her eyes going wide. He did not falter in the slightest.
"I do have to ask."
"An' what would that be?" she asked hesitantly.
"About what they said… The Riddles?"
"Oh, yer were listening to that?" She shook her head, placing the pitcher onto his table and placing her hands importantly on her hips. "You don' want ter to hear that legend, yeh don'."
"But I insist." He challenged her with a fleeting, yet brilliant smile. One that was sure to swoon even the most hardened woman.
And it did.
No less than three seconds passed that his charming elegance got the better of her and her superior stance was shot down. She looked utterly defeated, but all the more captivated by his charm. Her eyes gleamed with recognized worth, something he has been able to pick up on fairly easy through the years.
"Aye," she nodded, her voice soft. "Aye, al 'right. I'll tell ya."
The woman shifted uncomfortably on her feet before sitting down across from him. The man leaned back in his chair importantly once again. There would be nothing that came from this conversation that he already heard about or came across in the distant past. He was only prolonging the inevitable by speaking to her.
And would it be a bad thing?
He didn't have to be told the legend when he has already lived it once before. But, still. Nothing life-changing would come from it, so he really didn't have to worry too much.
"There is a legend around these parts that speak of two deities." The woman told him in a low voice. "An' as legend tells it, this land has been cursed because of them. Dark times, I tell yeh. Our ancestors disgraced themselves and the cursed been passed down through generations."
"What does this have to do with the Riddles?" the man asked, eager to know the missing piece of the puzzle.
The woman looked him dead in the eye and said," Tis the Riddles that defiled the maiden."
A darkness gripped them like a strong, inescapable vice. Cold, grey eyes bore into hers, willing her to continue. He wasn't just intrigued by this point; he was seething with hidden rage that threatened to take over his entire body. His blood boiled, his magic flaring about him like a whip made purely of dark matter.
"Their whole family s'been living here fer centuries. The whole lot of them were into some strange things. Even when I was a little girl, they've always been very withdrawn. Perhaps I should start from the very beginning…"
"Please," he whispered through clenched teeth.
The woman nodded, swirled her finger around the rim of the pitcher and carried on.
"One thing we pride ourselves in is our folklore," she said warily. "Good or the bad. Doesn't matter. We are traditional folks with simple livings. Even our legends are told to our children so they can carry on with our legacy. But, some things are better left unsaid."
"Legends goes that not only this land used to be blessed with light, but the whole world as well. This light came as a maiden who was created to protect the world from 'arm an' bring life to the desolate land. It was durin' this time that darkness was created and the humans started to rebel. For thousands of years they stood as one until one day they came together as one and all Hell broke out. Mind you, light and dark are not supposed to co-exist peacefully, bu' they somehow managed. It was a pretty thing they did, and the humans had some inkling to ther union and came up with a plan to break 'em apart.
"It was no secret that the maiden liked to venture to earth; it was 'er favorite place aside from the Heavens. Darkness warned her about venturing to the land of the humans, for he knew of their destructive powers. He had given them those powers, he did. Felt guilty since the beginning of their introduction. O'course, she was a free spirted-type and wouldn' listen to his pleas, mind. Said that she didn't have ter worry about 'em, that they wouldn' dare harm somethin' that brought such light and positivity to their lives. Oh… how wrong she was." The woman wiped the corner of her eye as if relaying the legends of her land and people was such an unbearable burden.
"They weren't together fer long before she came to earth and was captured by a group of men. Defiled, tortured and thrown out to die a slow, painful death. The Gods wasn't the one ter find her. Legend tells of some Nymphs finding her and- "
"They were not Nymphs."
"Wha' was that?"
"Nymphs did not find her," the man said with agonizing ease. It took a lot of channeling to control the anger that rose from the depths of his broken soul not to lash out and strangle each and every one of these drunken fools. "The Guardians of her temple found her. And, she was just clinging onto the last bit of life that she had when they discovered her."
"W-wha' are yeh-"
"Her body was defiled, yes, but that is not the entire story." With each word, his voice rose until the only thing that kept gripping entertainment besides the alcohol was his legendary voice. "She had been taken when she was roaming alone on earth during the dead of night. Taken by some worshippers that thought performing a ritual and getting rid of the maiden would bring rain to their otherwise scorched lands. What they did not realize was that they did not have to perform a ritual and kill the Goddess that would have gladly give them that rain, All they had to do was simply offer something in return for it. The maiden was a gentle soul; it doesn't come across often that you find someone so pure and mesmerizing. When they defiled her body, drew her blood and spilled it upon the breast of Gaia, they were not paying homage to anyone but their bestial souls. She died just so they could realize that that they had been tricked.
"You are right about the Riddles being strange and introverted, but what your precious legends did not expose that it was the Riddles who forced these people to retaliate, thus bringing about this curse that you have spoken of."
The man stood, allowing his magic to flare out around him and allow them to believe of its foul redolence. As he walked away from the table, leaving the woman gaping at him like some horror-struck corpse, he let his eyes travel around the room, appealing to the other residence of the tavern. They had been listening, that he knew. Their awe was written all over their faces with lustrous ink.
It was in the silver lining of the moon that he was able to escape from their prying eyes and back into the arms of the familiar bay of the night. Their foolish inquiries and horrible depictions of the past had proven to be nothing more than a mockery of the past. If only they had been told the truth, or at the very least kept record of what actually occurred.
Nymphs, really.
Distained by this epiphany, he became one with his surroundings once again but not before a voice called out to him and he turned to see who dared to intrude on his escape.
"Reveal yourself." he hissed, his voice echoing off the open land.
A man stumbled out of from the light of the alleyway, almost tripping on his feet as he made his way slowly towards him.
He recognized the man immediately. He was the one by the name of Richie. The man was a short, yet thick sort of fellow with wide shoulders and a boarding presence. His brown was wild with unkemptness and heavy from the amount of sweat that rolled down his wide forehead. Much like his hair, his beard was in no better condition, having been splashed with his choice of drink and everything else that didn't manage to get through the gates of his lips. Deeply settled eyes and a small, pigged nose made him look more like a cubby rodent than an actual man. The shadowed figure was not impressed by his appearance and remained calm when he threw the bottle of whiskey that he had been clutching in his hand.
"w'ere you goin', eh?" he asked, stumbling forward and catching himself on the bricked wall beside him. "I've got a word to pick with ya."
The man chuckled darkly.
How absurd of him to think that he stood a chance picking a fight with him. A man that held more power in a single cell than he did in his entire line of ancestors. What was he playing at by demanding a round with him? As humorous as it was, he wasn't about to waste any more time than he already has. Midnight was approaching and he had to act fast before the alignment was lost until the following month.
"And what do you have to say, Richie?"
"How d'you know my name?" he bellowed, his voice fanning out and creating an unpleasant ring inside his ear.
He frowned, not knowing exactly how to answer his question. He knew more than just his name; his life story was imprinted on his soul and hands, after all. It was in his eyes that he searched, however.
"I know more than just your name," he snickered. "Got nasty temper, don't you? Been hanging around here a little too long, eh?"
The shadow man stepped forward, admiring that his guest hadn't realized what was going on. They always were painfully slow. Their creation was nothing more than a joke, too.
"Come a' me, yeh bastard!" He yelled, bringing his hands to his chest and throwing himself at him. "Come a' me!"
In a blink of an eye the man disappeared into the night. The drunken elder looked around, stricken with utter curiosity and shock. His diseased heart hammered inside his large chest; he could practically feel the years of gluttony play his body and heart like a nasty symphony of delectable torches. He was at the end of his rope, so why should he live the rest of his hours cowering behind such lies?
"I've been watching you." He told him, pressing against his air of comfort. "Seen some disturbing things that isn't very glorifying, I am afraid"
"What're you-"
The dark figure came up to him, his steely eyes drawing in all light and dispersing the dark. For a moment, his captive was caught in his web and it was then that he released his full power and felt around inside his mind. What he found was quite disturbing to say the least, and he was planning on making the man see the error of his ways.
"You're a little pedophile, my dear friend." The shadow continued to press against his personal space. He could see the flicker of acknowledge in his eyes at hearing his words. This was when they tried to deny their inner most secrets. Desires such as touching young ones was more than just frowned upon. It was a sin. Their purity, their innocence, how can anyone try to take that away from them before they were able to live their lives as they were meant to?
"Your secret is that you like touching little boys, hmm? Thought that no one would be able to catch onto your little secret, yes? Does your wife know? I'm certain that she does, but she likes to deny what is right in front of her as well. You've been defiling your son for some years now and no matter how many times he's come to your wife she doesn't believe him. She's too caught up in her own little world to care. No doubt surrounding herself with the belief that her current lover will stay, too. Did you know she has taken a lover? It appears like you had no clue. Just like she's instilling the false belief that he'll stay into her mind and heart, you're drowning your own sorrows in alcohol. Neither of you can't bear to be reminded of a life that could've been yours, but I'm here to tell you that you got what you deserved."
If the man before him didn't look taken aback before, then he certainly did in that very moment. His whole life had been delivered to him on a silver plate, free from any absurdities such as blinding coverings and drapes of displaced shame.
"Y-er wrong!" he insisted into the demanding scope of the night.
The God laughed. "Oh, I am?" he asked. "Shall we take a gander at your memories? Freshen it up a bit?"
Images of his misdeeds came to him like a dream. His hands, his filthy hands came out to play and he could see and hear the pleading tones and whimpers of little boys as the man touched them inappropriately while insisting that it was okay. But it was not okay. He projected these images right in front of him as to allow him to see what he has been keeping all these years. Wide hazel eyes, and gaping mouth was all that was left of him after the scenes of raping children and touching them while pretending that adult had the right to do what he has done. That it did not make them any less human to do so.
Oh how very wrong he was.
Whimpering, the man got done to his knees and vomited onto the ground, coating his already disgraced hands with the contents of his stomach.
As that scene came to a sudden, uninterrupted halt, the next scenic view blossomed from its depths and came to light. It was a scene of his first wife, a woman that he loved dearly, a woman that he would have done anything for if it was not for his temper. It was his troubles and outbursts that forced her to retaliate, and it was his actions that killed her. Her blood, along with the tears of the children he's touched, coated his ungrateful hands. His sins would forever be branded against his flesh, traced inside the blood that swims through his veins.
It would be in the same manner that his first wife and those children that would finally end his reign.
A scream rang out but it did not belong to the whimpering man that had found companionship with the dirt. It was his wife's. She came to them as a ghost unresolved; glimmering in the moonlight, a woman not much older than twenty, her shadowy form hovered before him. His eyes were drawn to her unnatural beauty; if she had not been covered in blood, her skull caved in with the incessant blows that it had sustained and the opened wounds where she was pierced with a knife and then caressed with his foul fingers and other appendages she would have been quite beautiful.
'You call for me, my Lord?' she asked, raising her head the best she could.
Her Lord tilted his head, analyzing her skeptically. "Yes, I did."
She floated toward him and smiled. It was a misshapen kind of smile, one that would make anyone cringe for she had no tongue. Her voice and words were being transmitted by her connection she had with him.
'What is it that you need?'
"You must tell me," he began, looking at her then at her living husband," what I must do to avenge you."
Before she could speak, he grasped her cold wrist and whispered," I know you are scared, but it is now that I can assist you. Allow me to do this and you shall move onto the next world."
'B-but,' her eye swirled around the shattered hole that was left of her eye socket.
All the while, the man was being haunted by image after image, reliving the hours and days of his own misfortune. As the demented God watched, he learned of his inner desire to get back at the father that had sullied his soul when he was a child by inflicting the same pain that he felt onto others. His wife had been the only one behind his attacks until she became pregnant and he stopped his beatings. It wasn't long after their son's first birthday that he killed her, driving an old hammer into her skull, cutting off her tongue and driving his parts into her deceased body and burying her in the backyard. All the while accusing her of being a harlot and cheating on him with some random bloke.
Amelia Richie was her name, he had gathered. She would have been a mother once again if it hadn't been her living husband's insanity and mental illness that drove him to take that away from her.
"What shall I do to him to avenge your death and the death of your child?"
She looked at him with sad eyes. It had been her beating heart's desire to seek the revenge that she has been wanting all these years. As a woman of the bible, the old testament, he saw that she wished for him to die in the same manner as she. Only then he would know what she felt, and what trust and sanctuary was broken when he delivered the first blow.
The God chuckled. "You know not what you ask for."
'You wish not to help?' she countered, bobbing up and down like a peaceful lure in the water. 'He hurt me. It is only natural that he gets what he has given to another.'
It took a moment for him to reply, and when he did he murmured," Indeed." Then he turned away and looked at the writhing man rolling around on the ground. A sadistic smirk played on his lips. "Unlucky for him, you wish not to be parsimonious. You wish for him to feel exactly what you have felt, then so be it. I warn you, leave here before you witness my wrath."
"You shall me avenged, my dear." He told her. "Go, now. They are awaiting."
They looked up to find the blinding spirits of the heavens. She had earned the privilege of venturing through the gates of Heaven; her husband has not.
The woman smiled the best to could before drifting away and joining the other restless souls. Angel came and swept her up, and they all shot up through the sky, disappearing like a small burst of light. He watched for a moment before turning back to the man and calling on his servants to perform the deed that has been taken from his suiter's heart.
A dark chuckled imitated form within his chest as his servants arrived, hungry for the taste of flesh. It has been entirely too long since they have fed.
"Do be gentle with him," he drawled," as he was gentle with the people he has touched with his hands."
While his servants advanced on the man as he laid tormented by his own misdeeds, the God stepped back to watch what was about to take place.
"S-s-stay back!" he yelled, clawing at the dark figures as they crawled up his legs and tore at his trousers. "G-get off me!"
"They do not answer to you."
Richie looked at him in utter bewilderment and bit out," Wha' in bloody Hell do you think you're doin'?!"
The God tilted his head and laughed rapturously to the glorious wind. "Delivering unto you what you have delivered unto others."
With widened eyes, the man stared at him as the demented creatures found their way underneath his clothing.
They waited, and with a whispered command they tore at his clothing, their long claws digging underneath his skin until he was covered in a river of blood, his skin covered with teeth marks and cuts, and was screaming on top of his lungs for mercy.
But none came.
He laid there as he was pushed onto his hands and knees, the little creatures drawing more blood and burrowing into his body, nestling themselves amongst the muscle and bone. Their small hands and fingers played him like a demonic instrument and soon other parts of their bodies submerged themselves in the depth of his body. As another scream tore from his throat, forcing the overused flesh to become raw and swollen, something came up behind him, tugged his trousers down and entered him with an impossibly large prick that tore him from the inside out. He called out, crawling at the dirt until his nails fell off from his fingers and no sound came from his mouth. Stained tears fell from his eyes in aligned synchronization.
"P-p-please, 'elp m-me!" he begged to deaf ears. "I-I-I'll be g-good! I-I'll be good this time!"
The deity stood and watch every bit of the scene until he could no longer take the pained screams as it sent him straight back to the very day that his love was defiled in the same manner as the man before him.
"How many times did they scream for mercy as you drove your dick inside of them?" He wondered aloud. "How many times did your wife scream before she took final breath?"
No answer came from the man as the beast that taken him exploded within his deep channel, his semen covering his bloodied, used body. He pulled out, allowing his dick to flop lifelessly at his tight before finding sensuality once again. Within moments, a chant was made, making the man vulnerable as he had been before being rape and defiled. He was fucked in the same manner by another demon, this time without the mercy of the first.
"This is your punishment, "the deity said to him in a low voice. "You have provided this end for yourself."
He then turned to his servants, almost admiring their work on the decrepit old man.
"You know what to do." he told him with a sneer. "Do not stop until he is painted in red and dripping with white."
He gave them his last command and set out to where he was meant to be. Tossing his shadow to the wind, the man disappeared into the darkness and rescued the night.
When he finally landed on the deserted reaches of the village, his hand came to grasp his cloak, his fingers spraying across his chest. His breathing came in labored pants, his heart pounding abnormally slow. Never in his long existence that he felt such a powerful churn of magic until now. Awakened by this revolution, the God looked up to the heavens, calling to them before circling his magic around him to perform the ritual that first set out to do before the night was ripe.
At the call of midnight, he found what he was so desperately praying for.
A beat of a heart.
A/N: Been going through some things these past several days. It has taken a bit of toll on me, but I'm back :) Just had to edit this chapter today. Oh! Happy Fourth of July ^-^
Take care!
Don't hurt yourselves with those sparklers! :)