Awakening the prophecy.
Stirring the dead and broken.
Lighting a new flame.
Remembering the dark.
Recalling the blackening.
Poisonous.
Lethal.
Intoxicating.
Delicious.
Working with the most vile of magicks.
A tainted soul.
Working hard.
Oh so hard.
To rid itself of the corrosive cancer that is Death.
With claws of bitter remorse.
Dappled in demon's blood.
A body is torn apart.
A fragile vessel rendered useless.
A soul now wanders.
These forsaken provinces.
Carrying a single crystal.
One the color of twilight.
Grown of suffering and morbid delight.
Hoping to find a way.
A way out of the prison.
That is pain.
A single spell cast.
With a price more dire than death.
To grant the Reaper delight.
A beauty must die at midnight.
Only to have her soul absorbed.
Her thoughts are no longer her own.
The spectors probing her every thought.
Her looks not gone unnoticed.
Perverted ghouls desiring more than her simple touch.
She shall be Death's whore.
A starlet dressed in black.
With lipstick as black as her soul.
But her eyes as red as the blood.
She now drinks.
To sustain her deceitfully feminine features.
Such a dark force.
Such a dark art.
All woven with the flesh of the innocent.
Something worse than hell.
Something even the devil fears.
Something that the word ancient.
Cannot even describe.
Born of the radiant nightmare.
All despair and no reprieve.
A prayer to a thunder-lit sky.
A wish to the sparkling stars above.
A command to the crescent moon.
The celestial emodiment of the darkness.
A brilliant foretelling of a magic buried.
But not forgotten.
Under the sands of oblivion.
Not of heaven.
Not of hell.
Not of this reality.
Something else.
An arcane blessing.
A blighted curse.
The legacy of the Dark Arcane.