Mol’okh tapped his left foot incessantly, gripping the chair with a firm, clammy pair of palms till his hands churned crimson. The entirety of his focus was lasered in on the redhead.
For the longest stretch of eternity, an urban myth led me down this path. Will I see the conclusion to that dream today? Will I behold the fruits of my labour at long last?
His redhead of interest, hung from shackles, twisting and turning as the whites of his eyes were wracked with tortuous vessels, his irises rolled deep up his eyelids. Blood trickled down his chest, pooling beneath his hovering feet. The crimson surface reflected his broken body, shattered by the rippling drops, pitter-pattering.
Hanging his head, his eyes lingered over the bloodied remnants of his prisoner. “Come on, come on, come on DAMMIT! DO NOT raise my hopes for it to all come crashing down in the end! I need a payoff, at least one, after all this time. Give me something, ANYTHING!” Mol’okh quaked and quivered, rocking back and forth in his chair, seized by an unquenchable turmoil. “If you are going to reject him, get to it! At this stage, I would rather embed the fragment in my own heart rather than endure this torment any longer!!!”
As if prompted by an unseen signal, his prisoner’s body convulsed till he coughed up a bloody glob. Meanwhile, the bleeding from the hole in his heart ebbed, the rhythmic pitter-patter trickling off into silence.
“Hell yeah!” roared Mol’okh, thumping a fist in the air.
The redhead coughed up a second bloody glob, followed by every crevice of his body gushing streams of liquid crimson, from his ears to eyes and lips, streaming a blood-stained waterfall.
Mol’okh’s expressions soured faster than a bite of rancid cheese, his lips curling into a regretful hurl of profanity.
“Noooooo!” Slamming a clenched fist against his seat, the stool crumbled under the weight of his blow, splintering wood to debris. Stomping his foot on a panel, an array of bagged fluids, organs, needles and a white cot popped up.
Unshackling the redhead in a heartbeat, he placed the convulsing prisoner on the cot. Snagging a needle, he set up an IV line, shooting up a concoction of fluids through a brachial vein.
“AH DAMMIT! I need more equipment to work with.” Scampering about, he snapped open another panel that produced machinery, primed to oversee mortal vitals. Revving the monitor up, he fumbled with the controls and grabbed a set of electrodes and made his way to the redhead.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Faint prickling shot up Mol’okh’s left arm. Warmth flooded down his side and wetted his slacks. Peering at the space where his arm was, a crimson jet gushed out, fiercer than rapids on a stormy night.
The pain hadn’t hit yet.
His gaze shifted past the mangled arm towards a grating rumble of coarse crunches and slurping noises, from the emergency station he had set up.
A formless entity danced on the cot, munching on an arm. The bone reflected the dim light enshrouding the chamber as wet slurping, the sound of marrow sucked off the bone, echoed. Torn electrodes and broken shackles were strewn across the floor, sketching a bloody trail.
It hit him in that moment, all at once.
An agonizing howl escaped his lips, bringing him down on his knees, gripping his armless shoulder. He ripped out an electrode extending from the machine and wrapped the chord around the remnants of tattered flesh for a left limb. Rather than hurl curses, he bit back the pain and focused every ounce of attention on the formless entity occupying the space his prisoner had lain upon, devouring his arm.
“Did it finally work?” managed Mol’okh past pursed lips, holding back a wave of nausea. Snapping his last set of fingers, the darkness in the chamber was dispelled, revealing mountains upon mountains of deceased piles of limbs, torsos and organs neatly stacked and preserved. “You need sustenance, don’t you?” He pushed a weary smile past his contorted expression.
An oblong, forked tongue escaped the formless entity, smacking against non-existent lips. It shifted its attention from Mol’okh to the mounds of corpses laid out like a shopping aisle stacked with the highest quality grub. Jumping off the cot, it landed on the first stack, sniffing and taking a bite off a frozen leg. Chewing on the rotting flesh, it gagged and reeled, spitting out globules of meat. Shaking its head, it clambered to the apex of the pile, peering at all fifty corpse stacks, aligned in neat rows.
Throwing its head back, it drew in a breath, reeling in wisps of intangible darkness from the stacked bodies, funnelled towards a widely opened maw. The entity drew in the dark wisps, shrivelling the corpses it sat atop of.
Mol’okh watched the being at work, observing the organ bags wither. “He must be feeding off their death energy, as portrayed by legend.” A smile stretched across his face, wider than a child handed a piece of candy. Trickles of moisture wetted his face, the culmination of his toil standing before him. “It is no longer a dream.”
The formless entity leapt off the stack, tracing a crescent skeleton, glistening with scales. Membranous webbing sprouted off the frame, catching the air and sailing through the scant light, as a dark avenger. With a thunderous flap of its freshly forged wings, the creature took note of Mol’okh, locking in with the fierce zeal of an eagle.
“You are beautiful,” he said, clutching the gnawed remains of bone, sticking out his armless shoulder. His moistened eyes welled up with a second barrage of emotionality, as a proud father would gaze upon his child with pride. He stood frozen in the moment, holding his arm up, accepting the beauty of his creation.
The formless entity lengthened its wing. It whizzed across Mol’okh’s body, from armless shoulder to pelvis in a single stroke, spry as spilling ink over white canvas.
