---Jewel---
I emerge from the lava pit, shaken but unscathed. Not even my clothing has been singed by the all-consuming pool of volcanic bile. With some effort, I manage to climb up out of the crevice. I squeeze my cross, tears streaming down my cheeks. The Master of Light has delivered me. My faith, at long last, has been rewarded.
Kitara licks her lips. "The Light prevails," she utters, her lips twisting into a demented smirk. "Is that what you think?" She strokes the underside of my chin. I am paralyzed in the presence of her malevolence; I want to shy away from her touch, but my limbs won't budge. "You are mistaken, Child of Light. It is She of the Many Shadows who has preserved you."
"No..." I hold up my cross in front of my face. Kitara recoils with a hiss. The monstrosities stand perfectly still, all of their eyes on me. I feel a fluctuation in my chest, a numbness in my arms. And then I topple over, and the world switches off.
When I come to my senses, the green sun hangs low like a rotten lime above the canopy, its light only barely penetrating the thick foliage. I lie on a bed of leaves, stuck in some sort of delirium. The minutes tick by, and the sky grows darker. Another sunset—then I've been out all day.
After the sun has finally set, the cool wind rejuvenates me. I wipe my feverish forehead and force myself to sit up. The monstrosities are once again engaged in their vulgar revelry, though the camp seems even livelier tonight. The vivisected beasts chant and dance and beat tribal drums, all by the fiery crevice that I was so sure was actually a mouth into the pits of hell.
Kitara comes and helps me to my feet, her angel wings folded behind her back. She carries in her left hand a rusted goblet, filled to the brim with an equally rusty fluid. "You are parched," says the demon. "Drink."
I shudder. How could I possibly accept a drink from this... this abomination? I turn my face away, grimacing in disgust.
"You are changing," says Kitara.
This interests me. "What do you mean?"
"The way you carry yourself," she replies. "Your thoughts—they possess a certain elegance that you lacked yesterday."
"You can read my thoughts?" She's right, though I hate to admit it. I feel... altered. My thoughts and perceptions all intertwine into a cosmic web of profundity, and I can begin to glimpse the beauty in all that is and all that is meant to be. Gone is the pathetic little girl who trembled while her friends were put to the slaughter before her very eyes. But what has taken her place? I shudder to think.
"Not exactly," the demon admits, taking a sip from the goblet. "But I can read auras. And yours grows murkier by the minute."
"You're wrong," I say, defiantly. "The Master of Light—"
"Has no place here." Kitara beckons me. "Come. Tonight, our matron shall awaken from her slumber and grace us with her presence."
I tremble, but Kitara links her arm through mine and walks me across the camp, urging me to observe the festivities. When we pass by a trio of her monsters chewing the skin off of a live doe, I've had just about enough.
It occurs to me then that I've not merely been tasked with punishing Kitara for her act of angelicide. I am to thwart the awakening of She of the Many Shadows—one of the oldest and most powerful Enemies of Light. But why me? How am I to battle against evil incarnate? With what weapons shall I carry out His divine will?
"You are conflicted, Child of Light," says Kitara.
I shake my head. Whatever's come over me, I have to try and fight it off.
"You thirst."
Again, she offers me the goblet, and this time I partake. I need something, anything, to quench this insufferable thirst. The nectar has the potency of a hundred rusted nails scratching against the back of my throat. They settle uneasily in the pit of my stomach, emitting an alkaline concoction. The thought that, in a moment of weakness, I caved to temptation cuts me to the quick.
Clutching my heaving chest, I flee, in no particular direction. I duck into a tent, which thankfully turns out to be vacant, and am sick over a pile of skulls, each one no larger than my fist. Once my stomach settles, I withdraw from the tent, which reeked of death and bile before I even set foot inside it. I roam across the border of the village, seeking solace in the darkness of the trees. Though I would like nothing more than to be gone from here, I cannot flee. I am indebted to the Master of Light; I must fulfil my task and smite Kitara.
I flatten my back against one of the ancient trees, and the sap smudges against my shirt. I wipe the sweat from my brow, heaving softly. As the night approaches, a frost creeps through the woods. The sweat cools against my skin, and my back begins to shiver. My breath materializes before me.
I start to hear whispers in the dark. I gravitate towards them, creeping on the tips of my toes so as not to alert them to my presence. So as not to... I shake my head. This isn't me. Why did my thoughts suddenly get all eloquent? Something's gotten into me. I have to be careful. My heart thumps in my chest, nearly leaping into my throat as I come face to face with one of the monstrosities.
It's skinless, except for an inside-out mask of rotted human flesh worn over its head. The monstrosity breaths putrid, hot breath against my face, and I feel the need to hurl all over again. I back up against the tree, and the monstrosity leans over me, slicing its tongue along its serrated teeth. Then it licks me, smearing blood all along my cheek. I grimace and squirm. It's too much. I can't... I just can't...
I knee the monstrosity in the crotch. It doesn't reel in pain, but the blow does distract it long enough for me to slip away. Clasping my hands together in prayer, I flee as fast as my legs will carry me. I circle back around to the demon village.
As I draw nearer to the glow of the bonfire, I see a shadow creeping through the woods. I squint at the slender figure as it wanders through the trees. My chest clenches when I recognize it as Rachel, the girl from Wates' group who runs the daycare. What's she doing all the way out here? Doesn't she know—Oh, God! The demons will skin her alive! I have to warn her.
She steps out into the light and passes through the flaps of a large grey tent. What is she thinking? I hurry after her—I have to do something before it's too late. Without thinking, I draw back the flaps of the tent.
I see a number of things all at once. Rachel removes her clothing, revealing an incision that stretches from her chin to her groin. She opens up the wound and slides right out of her skin, shedding it like a snake. I press my hand against my mouth to stifle my surprise; she's one of them!
Next to her sits a steaming vat of the rusty red brew Kitara offered me earlier. Dangling above the vat are tiny little corpses, each of them suspended in the air with its neck slit open so that it can bleed out into the vat. Two skinned rabbits. A badger. A fox.
And Sophie.
I stare at the infant, who I remember cradling in my arms and singing to sleep what seems like so long ago. Her hollow expression is burned into my brain. I can hear the sound of her innocent giggles echoing in my ears, only with each repetition it grows distorted and twisted into this evil entity that chews at my insides and wrings my brain like a sponge.
Instinctively, my hands fly to my cross. I clutch it in my palm, and yank the necklace until it snaps. I toss the cross aside, and the rosary beads scatter. This is too cruel. I feel empty, as empty as little Sophie's dead eyes that stare back at me no matter how painfully I try to avoid them. If the Master of Light were really on my side, he would never have allowed this to happen. Not to Pierre. Not to Tino. Not to Shana. Not to Derek.
And not to Sophie.
The cross rattles on the ground where it fell. It starts to smoke and then bursts into flames. I feel the atmosphere grow heavy. My muscles loosen, and my hair flows freely. My skin burns and singes away my clothing. A veil of shadow wraps itself around me, caressing my curves. I levitate up in the air as the darkness consumes me.
At long last... after all of these years... I am awake.
I flick my wrist, and the monstrosity masquerading as Rachel bursts into a thick splash of gore, splattering the flaps of the tent. I wag my finger, and the tent goes up in flames. I take pleasure in my work, but there's something clawing at my chest, something potent. The girl. She pervades me; inhabits every inch of my fibre. Her being taints me.
Revenge. She is corrupted by hatred and the desire for vengeance, just as she was when she had me reduce those pathetic humans to heaps of ash. These vermin—they have wronged her. They have caused her pain. I can feel it. Her loathing for them. For this world. The sight of it sickens me. It sickens me until I can tolerate it no longer.
I fly out of the tent. The vermin all bow before me. They worship me. They sicken me. This very world sickens me. It is not befitting for a harlot, let alone the Witch Queen. They shall feel my wrath. Yes. The word tastes good on my tongue. It has been centuries, eons since I last unleashed my wrath; the venom has pent up within my soul. This world—this sickening world—shall bear the brunt of it.
I will destroy it.
I will destroy it all.
Author's Note:
Kitara certainly got more than she bargained for. Here's a variation on a previous question: if you had to take the place of Em, Crawford, or Gail, whose would you take?
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