Blood In The Pale Moonlight: Part 1
Category: Uncategorized

She is a forgotten legend of her own kind and children. A myth in demon and Abyssal history lost throughout the Abyssal ages before the new demons took over the Abyss. After her children grew, their elders were slaughtered or vanished and before they set their sights on new worlds and realms the Creators created. In the Pale Night's time, in her kind's own history, it was only them and the Creator Divines. Stealing energies from the Abyss after the divines exhausted their own powers through their despicable affront towards Pale Night, her kind and the Abyss. It ended up being easy to lash out towards them, for the Abyss itself lashed out towards them, for the Abyss came first before all in the eyes of the first denizens that were forgotten.

The Abyss is vast. It is infinite. Lost, forgotten, thought to have been dead and very much desired to be left alone, she chose isolation. Something in her mind's eye, her thought process, from something she witnessed in the Abyss itself and what her children were doing triggered her decision to do this. To fade. One of the eldest, possibly the eldest, with such horrific powers best kept sealed, buried and locked away simply vanished from all memory and recollection from all. Impossible! Yet it is.

Replaced with a certain horrific rage, the Pale Night's attention is drawn to the children of the Creator Divines. Their mortals. From the depths of pure chaos and evil that forever churns, changes and hides, there is the Pale Night's realm of bone, blood and souls. One of the many gifts of the Creator Divines for their children is the ability to reproduce. The Pale Night always laughs at that. Sometimes their children are unable to reproduce. Even when they pray to their gods. The gods are fickle. Praying to the dark gods sometimes gets results. The dark gods make her smirk. She stopped being an intermediary for the dark gods of fertility and for ones who would give such gifts a long time ago. Let them pray to her in desperation without them knowing who she truly is. Let them think she is a benign divine one of fertility. Let the ones who actually know who she truly is be blind to the actual price of such a gift. A child.

A small village somewhere on a world. With many connections from the mortal world to the Abyss, places like the Abyss, where her children and their distant cousins and her own distant sisters and brothers and cousins are at, it is easy for mortals to accidentally find the Pale Night. The moon seems like it is red. A scream rips through the night. Many divine ones are lazy and easily distracted with their pride and their loins. They do not notice until it is too late, not until their very worshiper disappears from their awareness and their soul that should have went to them, does not and goes to the Pale Night.

She uses a particular type of a demon to collect the price. She uses a high priestess too. Sometimes she actually comes to the laboring, screaming mother herself. A cultist forever lost. At the outskirts of the village comes a thief from underneath the earth where there is a crack into the Abyss. Coming out in a world of times before modern times, a thief covered in sweat and blood and earth. A thief that is the sole survivor of an adventuring hero party set on rescuing a knight who is forever part of her collection. Her soulless gaze is drawn to the stumbling thief who thought he is free and safe from the Pale Night's wrath after he stole something that should not be brought to the surface.

She blocks the thief's path. She simply appears. A chosen vessel from this world. Cold. Soulless. Without emotion. When the thief saw her, he paled. The laboring mother screams louder. Claws stretch out from underneath the mother's womb. The thief steps back in fear. What belongs to her is in his shaking hands. She steps forward. She hears the thief's pleas. The chosen vessel remembers the thief now. The thief thought he could escape her gaze. He did it! He did it barely with his life and soul intact!

No.

The thief pleas.

She smiles.

The mother screams.

A womb rips.

A thief is punished.

Screams.

Blood.

A horror.

Unleashed.

On their creation.

Their children's souls taken.

-End.

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