Hellion Walker

All humans have darkness inside of them. It slumbers like a great and terrible beast deep within their souls, and it is only through death that the beast can be freed. Possessed by madness and the pain of grief, the beast rises from its resting place, starved. Driven by hunger, the dark beast devours the light of the human soul, and then you are nothing but a shadow.

It started with a death. It ended with my own.

Begin -:- The Awakening

He was covered in fresh red blood from head to toe, but it was the color of his eyes that gave him away. She knew what he was, and she knew she was going to die. The fear was a tangible thing on the air.

“Hail Mary, full of Grace. Our Lord is with thee,” she murmured. Her arms wrapped around her knees and she rocked in place, her eyes large and staring at the tall beast before her. His burning eyes locked with her own and she saw the desire to do her harm written in them.

“Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

His claws closed around her upper arm and squeezed until she bruised. Blood trickled from the shallow slices inflicted on her pale skin. Her eyes grew wider and her squeaking voice more desperate. She clutched her cross to her chest with her free hand.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

The beast casually backhanded her, sending blood flying through the air. It hardly mattered. It was the same color as the blood of her lord and master. It was the same color as the slaughtered people littering the halls of the keep.

“Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is with thee,” she continued without pause. She continued to pray, even when the beast hit her again.

“Blessed art thou among women,” she gasped as he ripped her bodice away from her. She whimpered and thrust the cross into his face, still praying. “And blessed...is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

The beast plucked her cross from her hand and growled. The heavy iron defense was thrown across the room, where it struck the stone walls and lodged deep within cold rock. The woman screamed.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God!”

He grabbed her chin in one hand and stuck his claws through her flesh. She screamed again, her mind chanting the only prayer she could remember over and over again.

“Quiet, wench! Or I'll rip your tongue from your head and feed it to the crows!”

The sound of his voice shocked her into stillness.

It talks, she thought.

His claws traced over her breasts, the tips slicing across her hard nipples. She shivered under his touch and started to scream again.

“Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is with thee!”

“I said quiet, wench!” He pried her jaw open and wrapped slender fingers around her wriggling pink tongue. Claws sliced across the muscle and blood welled in her mouth, and the scent enticed him to lick the thin trails that trickled from the corners of her mouth.

With a savage twist of his claws, the beast the tore the woman's tongue from her mouth. He swallowed it whole, and then his own tongue, much too long for a human man's, delved deep into the warm recesses of her mouth to drink down her blood.

Shoved against the wall, her screams finally silenced, the beast spread her legs and began to take what he wanted from her.

The taste of her blood in his mouth drove him to a more violent copulation, and when he at last had pulled away from the shocked woman, blood trickled down the insides of her thighs.

Outside, the night was dark and cold. Snow fell from the uncaring heavens, and the woman's God was nowhere to be seen. But despite the frigid temperatures of the northern lands, she was warm. Warmed by the demon seed that was taking root in her womb.

Death was now her only option.