Episode III: Bittersweet Reflections, Pt.1-1

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A chariot of emotions. This pact between fear and guilt was a consequence for stumbling into her world once more. Reflections kept him awake as he reminisced pleasant times. Although, he seemed to be married to misery, immersed in the monstrous transformation that forced him to flee from her years ago.

Tending to his potted Spath on his chamber's desk, his thoughts wafted. Three days. It's been three days since he last saw her radiant smile. Anchoring his glasses over his ears, a pair of light footsteps echoed across the corridor. With a slight tap on the door, a silvery voice veered his person. "Father Benoventeg, do you require anything before I retire tonight?"

"No thank you. Sleep well Marvi."

"To you as well, Father. Good night."

He sighed, the foggy night's void pulling him to the window. Ever clear, every detail of his haunting memory unraveled. A night of malice:

Within the cellar, among the tossed barrels, splattered blood, and stale wine cradled something abysmal. It resembled a crude laboratory, a magnetic mix of genomics and sorcery, and his stasis marked the centerpiece of it all. The frozen hibernation tank thawed with a simple push of a button on the control console, the hatching vapor desaturating the scene of two figures for his eyes to see—an elder man believed to be his creator and an aberrant hostile. Then suddenly, so suddenly a painful hunger knotted his stomach, a fleshy taste twirling around his tongue. His pale lips stretched a sinister smirk, and he emerged from the cylinder he called home. This creature staged himself; a tall, thin, manic looking humanoid being with sanguine stained eyes; he seemed underdeveloped, primitive, simple minded. Without another second to waste, the hostile stretched the blade embedded in his arm and cleaved the elder man, opening his chest.

The creature watched indifferently as his master's eyes bulged, his knees dropping to the floor. His dying body trembled, the creature's cold stare locked onto his creator, until a soft sobbing caught his attention. It veered his head to the sub storage floor panel across him. A pair of teary golden eyes peeped through the crack, and instantly, he flustered.

"Kessire, dec moundi peus!" His dying master would exclaim, his last command before the hostile pierced his back into the blood soaked floor.

The killer retorted, "I could have sworn I punctured a lung. Why are you still breathing, you fat piece of shit!?"

"Ah, so that's where this insatiable hunger is coming from." Ravenously, Kessire licked his lips, approaching him. "You should be honored... being my first meal. I will ravish you, demon."

"Hmph, what? Am I supposed to be threatened by one of Darith's faulty experiments?" He affronted, withdrawing the blade from the fallen.

"Faulty?" He grinned ear to ear, and with a quick impulse, he savagely pounced on the intruder. His fangs burrowed deep into his neck as he plunged both of them against the floor with crazed hunger. Drink, drink, and drink he would, savoring the stream of red that sent his soul into a frenzy. This liqueur of utmost sinful delight pumped fire into his body. And although the Dessarian would fight back, jabbing the same makeshift blade that killed Darith into Kessire's side over and over again, Kessire would persist.

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME!" A powerhouse of energy pushed Kessire off of him. As soon as he got on his juddering feet, he glared at the creature, a hand over his gushing jugular. With a mutter under his breath, he vanished in a blackened haze.

Kessire sighed in delight, turning to the access panel enclosing his little mistress. She cowered away at his glance, quickly hiding herself with a loud thump of the door shutting close. He walked over, then lifted the cover, greeting the coiled-up girl with a soft smile.

-----> continued

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