Author's Note: Yes, I'm terribly sorry for the delay on that, and many other projects, but we're getting a little occupied with many things. One of many surrounds the war, but that's all I'm saying about that. Anyway, thanks for the reviews thus far, and though I had to delete the example that I got, please keep reviews clean. Not just for my sake, but for the sake of any others reading them that might find it offensive.

Part 3: Mundus

I see…this is my punishment, where I must lay and watch him, feel him, lie in agony because of him. His power will be his undoing, for it is his father's, and his father was given life by my breath. It is only fitting that the time will come for him to accept what he is, and why he is. The taste of death will infest every corner of his mouth, and repose his unholy shell until my return. Only then, will he learn his calling, and bid farewell to his weaker half, and fall upon the arms of the darkness, where he belongs.

Yes, I obsessed for the ground he lied on to be painted with his soul, but through my defeat, my…imprisonment, I have learned that he is better off living for my return, so long as others will heed my words. I know they will not, for a full-blooded demon to be bested by a half-ling is worse than death by one. Even now, as they perform countless acts to me, while drawn and quartered with brimstone chains, I smile, for if this is the best they can do to their damned brethren, they will need me sooner than they imagine.

As for you, my fair skinned harlot, why did you fight it, my succulent creation? You do so, hoping that darkness will fail in drinking from you no longer, when you bathe in its poison, inhale its miasma, and lust for it in your deepest visions. I smell the half-ling with ease, but I AM you. You can't escape me, nor can you defeat me. Not alone, not with him, or them…because darkness does not eviscerate the darkness, and fathers were never meant to be buried by their kin. However, if you wish to defy that fate, I am here, and waiting…beaming as we beasts do, when we know that victory is a drop of your blood away.

Now rest, fair one…and dream of me in your care, as you have from that day on. And you, the accidental son…all I ask of you is to pray.