Black Wings: Eye of Corruption

Prologue
A long tongue licked its slimy, glossy form against pale lips. Lavender eyes examined a skeleton placed upon a cold, hard metal table. Tools were set off to the side, yet bone-white hands held a heart in their palms, the heart placed in the ribcage. A grin was marring the rather charismatic features of this person, as he turned his head, black hair whipping through the air like snakes, to a black book. His foolish sister’s book, putting her faith into Misery, such idiocy on her part, such had brought her to where she was now. But she didn’t matter now; being a spirit had such a damper on any future plots, for the time being.

He had fully prepared for the ritual, the skeleton of the deceased, a heart of a youthful individual, inscriptions reciting the ritual were written upon the walls and ceiling. There was also the business of a soul to be offered, but this man didn’t require to go grab one, he had two or three within himself he could use. Soon, even souls would be toys, not some tool to be experimented on, how sure he was of such? Beyond measure.

“Keh heh heh... So much work to do. So little time, that is, if I was restricted by the laws of temporality.” The man smirked, amused with his work, he took a knife and began to cut an inscription onto his chest. A thick, viscous, honey-colored fluid seeped through his carving on his pale flesh. Reciting a mantra, a small white orb flowed from said inscription on his chest, and he grasped it with both hands.

He continued his chant, and had the sphere float about the skeletal body, circling it continuously, like a shark going in for its prey. The bones rattled at the energy, the heart placed in the ribcage began to beat, the inscriptions flew off the ceiling and walls, surrounding the skeleton and becoming a dark, black orb.

Gravity seemed to pull toward the black sphere, as gusts blew by the pale skinned man, hair blowing crazily along with the wind. His laughter not unheard in the room, but overshadowed by the powerful pressure bursts of air that surrounded the sphere; dying down, the sphere of black energy dissipated, leaving a figure standing atop the metal table.

The man that appeared from the orb had long, ebony black hair, his eyes a deep, bloody red. A red robe fit snugly about his body, a green shirt underneath, with a soft light blue for pants. Sandals were a deep red, seemingly matching his eyes perfectly. His hair covered half of his left face, and a scowl was his first reaction to being revived by the pale man before him.

“Kaede, you’ve revived me.” The man simply stated, as if he expected this all along.

“Yesss... Indeed I have, Master.” Kaede willingly responded, “I found this time to be the most appropriate, when certain... Intrusions have been dealt with.”

“Not at my full power. What foolishness, you were always too rash about these types of dealings. Have you learned nothing?”

“I’ve learned enough for now.” Kaede frowned, displeased at the Master’s unappreciative attitude. “Obviously you were unaware of the consequences. You’re still weak. I’m not going to be restrained by your sick illusion of your Imperium Recto.” The Master made his way off the table, approaching Kaede with slow strides.

“You’re unaware of who is truly in control here. Allow me to show you who really has ahold of the power over life and death.”

Kaede took but a split step backward, but found a soul being ripped out of his body as a black gloved hand collided with his chest. The pain was excruciating, a blood curdling scream echoed in the room, as Kaede’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. Kaede fell over, breathing labored, sweat trickling in rivers onto the stone floor.

The man who stood over him scrutinized Kaede’s crumpled form like a disappointed parent, the soul floating in his extended, open palm.

“Saizir is his name; this is the soul I hold aloft in my hand. For now, this one is mine.”