basso365 — yes, it is a rewrite of my original story. I recently re-read it and... cringed so badly I nearly suffered a heart attack. Yeah, it was some real edgelord shit. I hope this one is vastly superior, myself.
It knew exactly what to do. If her eyes would be her weapon against the Darkness, then It would simply take them away. And It did. It plucked them out, tearing away the little bits of white and red flesh that clung to it. It fed the eyes to Its serpentine Darklings, and now It carried the unconscious, bleeding and broken body of the girl. Her head hung limply onto Its chest, blood and viscera leaking from her empty sockets. Nothing can stop It. No child and certainly not her eyes.
There is no holding back the Night. There is no killing a Shadow. No one can defeat the Darkness. The flame of life shall be snuffed out and the sun will grow dark. The blood of the innocent and wicked alike will be feasted upon by It as all things once more cease to exist.
But that is later. For now, It pondered about the girl. What to do with her? Kill her? If so, how? Rip her limb from limb? Skin her alive? Create little insects that will eat from the inside? Or, perhaps, keep her as a pet? Turn her into a auger of Its will? She certainly expressed a admirable desire to survive. Indeed, such desire is... delicious. It loves those who fight, those who have such potential... or... perhaps...? Yes! Of course! It could force her to produce a child, a new vessel for Its will. One who could be so much more powerful then the weakling It currently has the misfortune of possessing. Ideas for the future, that is for sure. Maybe... is she the one who will give the Darkness what was promised so long ago? The Prophesied One? Maybe... oh, It hoped she would be the mother of the One. But that was highly, highly unlikely. There have been no signs of the One's birth, not yet, anyway.
It tossed the body to the forest floor, It could hear things. Voices as lights pierced through the trees. Its serpents hissed and snapped in the direction of the filthy light, and It felt a mixture of fear and rage bubbling inside. Is it... them again? How had they have found It so soon? Why can't they leave It alone!? Stupid, ugly Maggots!
No, they called for a name. It listened, listened so very closely. Ruby? Why are they calling out for a gem? Maybe it's he girl's name? Well, it's not them, so that's good. And since their already here... why not have a little fun? It kneeled down to the ground, Its right serpent detaching from Its back as a yellow light lit up the Darkling's sides, and it sithered along the forest floor like a snake as It saw through the Darkling's eyes, controlling the creature's every action.
The Darkling disappeared into the snow and bushes, and climbed onto a high tree. It wrapped its long body around a branch, and reared back its head to get a better perspective of those who had decided they no longer hunger for life. Their weren't many, maybe six or seven. Most locked liked the normal cattle, wearing clothes no one cares about and with faces that'd you'd forget seconds after seeing. Unworthy of Its attention. But one stood out. A tall man wearing grey clothes, and with a red cape flowing in the winds. Yet It felt a spike of nostalgia upon seeing his red eyes.
Ah... a Branwen. It wasn't very long ago It had a Branwen puppet. Only fifty years ago, give or take a few decades. Theirs was a powerful bloodline, but at the time It left them, It had found a stronger one. Sadly those fools blood had devolved into Its current vessel. Maybe It could... no. The Branwens while powerful were always resistant to Its will. Always struggling along every step of the path. It preferred a weak yet easily controllable puppet over a powerful yet resistant one. It hated the resistant ones. What right do they have to deny Its will? Its power? Stupid cattle!
Still, now was Its time. Now was the time to kill. To feed Its unyielding hunger for human misery. The Darkling slithered down the tree, its razor sharp tail cutting the bark. Who to target first? Well, certainly not the Branwen, that's for sure. He's too powerful for such party tricks, that and It has special plans for him. The others, however...? Well, only one way to learn.
"What was that?" One of the cattle whispered under his breath, shining his flashlight onto a nearby bush. He saw nothing unusual. If he had turned around, he would have noticed the snake-like creature behind him, rising into a striking position. He barely had time to draw breath before the back of his skull and most of his brain had been devoured in a single bite. His corpse collapsed to the forest floor, thumping like a bag of potatoes.
One of his nearby friends turned to see what had happened, and found nearly a dozen dagger-like fangs tearing into his windpipe, and removing his ability to talk and breath. He fell to his knees, vainly clawing at his now empty throat and making gurgling sounds as he drowned in his own blood.
"Hold up! Does anyone else here that?" A voice asked in the distance, accompanied by a few murmurs. With speed to great for human eyes to comprehend, the Darkling had retraced its... 'steps' and reattached back to The Darkness. Two may not be a big number, but two more hearts could make all the difference in the world.
It stood back to Its full height, and conjured forth four more gremlin-like Darklings. Two leapt onto trees, one ran forth and screamed like a lunatic as the forth sprouted bat-like wings and took flight. It smiled as a man's scream echoed, followed by a wet crunch.
"Jimmy!" A rather hulking man screamed. The "Jimmy" in question stood still as a gremlin looking thing tore out his lower jaw, and shoved its thumbs into his eyes. Before the hulking man could make another sound, something strong gripped his shoulder, tearing flesh and bone as its grip strengthened. The ground below his feet quickly vanished as he found himself being carried high into the sky.
"Someone fu-" Another man found himself suffocating as another goblin emerged from a nearby bush. A black cigar with a purple cherry rested in its mouth. It had a large, black top hat on, and a monocle over its left eye, "Say hi to Satan for me, would you, good sir?" It's voice held a thick British accent, and it removed the cigar after taking a puff, and unleashed a plume of hellish flames from its gaping maw.
Another corpse rested on the forest floor, his insides having been torn out as a Darkling rested on his crushed ribcage. It admired the blood, but where is the Branwen? He isn't dead, yet. So-
A gunshot broke Its train of thought, and It quickly spun around just in time to see the tip of his damn scythe. The metal shattered into a thousand shards as it impacted against Its face. It hand quickly wrapped around his neck, and in his moment of shock, It slammed him against the snow covered ground.
He groaned as blood poured out of the sides of his mouth. It let go of his throat, opting to instead allow a thin tentacle to worm itself up his left leg. It moved Its head closer to his, Its golden eyes darkening into a vibrant purple.
'Stupid Maggot!' It yelled into his very soul, Itsright hand enlarging as it wrapped around the Branwen's head, 'She is mine! MINE!' It relented with Its grip, he will die here.
It stepped on his throat, and enjoyed the sounds and gurgling he made. It was cute. Adorable. It liked the sounds they made before dying. It raised Its leg, and quickly brought it down onto his chest. He screamed something, a word It couldn't be bothered to hear.
It repeated the process a few times, before a high pitched scream stole Its attention. The girl... Stupid child! The Darklings will take care of him. The girl, however must be taught manners! Respect!
In the blink of an eye It had teleported to her, forming inside of a dark shadow hidden by a thick tree. It was meet by a rather cute sight. The dumb pile of flesh was clawing at her empty sockets, staining her hands crimson. What a beautiful sight! It especially took joy in how she squirmed in the snow, twisting and turning like she was on fire! Adorable.
Itlifted her upward by her hair. A few strands came lose, yet the majority stayed. Her screaming grew louder, and became accompined by incoherent words. It dragged the girl into the shadows of the woods. If the Darkness had payed more attention to the Branwen, It might have noticed a red eyed crow flying off into the night. And a Creature of Grimm watching It...