It had been days since the town of Elixir had seen the Darkness, the tone of the town had gradually faded to a dull gray, the sky was set in shades of an angry orange preserving the last vestiges of Sunlight, a golden glow still bathed the town however sub textually.
The citizens, first angered at the arrogance of The Night that refused to engulf them retaliated by rejoicing in colour and celebrating the absence of eventide until it became a literal assault on the senses. But little by little they realized that by removing itself, The Night had taken away their safe space to sin. The ones who hid under the blanket of Darkness whilst satisfying their own dark animal had angered The Night by their pretence and denial. The Night would deny them, until it fed on their pain and discomfort long enough.
The world was bright yet gloomy and toiling, but no one would admit it..
A young girl, deemed an unhealthy worshipper of The Night, went in the search of the God Of Eventide, she ventured forth into the Forest that most shunned, on a quest to find Him.
Her quest was neither simple nor without danger, she encountered forces that were beyond her control but startled by her persistence and strength, The Night smiled and let her through.
She was admitted into His arena and knelt upon the dark, uneven rocks, the walls of His Dungeon were adorned with morbidity; The child inside her had found home. She drank in the profanity of the clumsy strokes that outlined nubile, young girls, deflowered virgins, orgies, homoerotic pleasure, the joy of infliction.
She offered herself to The God Of The Night and asked to pay for the sins of her ignorant peers, she asked to be ravished so that The Night could return to its rightful place. She begged to sacrifice herself to Him, even to the cause of relieving the unknowing sinners.
Marvelled as He was at the devotion of the young cloak dwelled woman, Night was no kind soul. He icily accepted what he was offered and led her into the wilderness, to the depth of the forest until she heard only the murmurs of the Night Whisperers and the howls of creatures unknown. And there next to The Lake of Mysticism, he mounted her on to a frame in the middle of a clearing, tearing away her cloak and passively observing her untainted yet unholy flesh. He ran His fingers over her flesh, holding it between his icy, rough and calloused fingers.
He drew a dagger, the blade so finely polished its radiance was unearthly. He held the cold tip of the blade against her thigh and dragged it to draw blood, impatient for her to scream He looked up and saw her face contorted in pleasure instead and her lips parted as the moan slipped out of her mouth. Mesmerized yet skeptical, He pushed her further, assaulting each part of her body more furiously than before, she continued to express her arousal and be consumed by it. The more blood she shed, the stronger she grew. The further they pushed each other, the closer they came to The Divine. Their cries rang out together in the Land Of Darkness; the cries of Euphoria.
He took her as she had offered but she took him in a way He hadn’t precedented or been capable of conceiving.
Together, with her, The Night rose again. Bringing relief to those undeserving souls, as a blessing in disguise, but more to Himself. The King Of Blackness embraced His eternal queen. He rose with The Angel of Destruction lying bloody, as was her due, at His feet.