The manor loomed in the night with its presence heavy with a sense of foreboding. The stone walls that were worn by time, carried a musty scent that spoke of ages past. They had faint traces of rotting wood, the rich odor of damp earth and an unsettling hint of something metallic that hinted at old wounds. Tendrils clung to the exterior like a grasping hand while moss crawled slowly over the weathered stones as if eager to envelop them completely. It felt less like mere decay and more like a relentless hunger consuming everything in its path.
Moonlight struggled against the darkness that enveloped the estate to casting a soft, eerie glow that revealed shadows both familiar and strange that seemed to move on their own and stretching out toward anyone brave enough to approach, almost as if they were reaching with malevolent intent. The forest surrounding the manor had long given in to the mysteries that lurked within its walls. The trees contorted into unnatural shapes,as their branches jut skyward like the gnarled fingers of the lost.
Silence blanketed the area pressing down with an almost tangible weight. Each heartbeat felt amplified, reverberating like distant thunder. It felt as though something lurked just beyond the manor's threshold, a presence as old and unyielding as stone yet filled with an insatiable hunger.
Inside the estate, a veiled figure possibly human was deep in concentration, busy with her dark ritual. Her voice trembled as she spoke the final incantation, words that hadn't been uttered in a millennium. The language was ancient, a remnant from before humanity had discovered compassion. Each harsh consonant seemed to tear at the very fabric of reality while the vowels oozed shadows into the atmosphere around her. The altar beneath her began to heat up gradually transforming from warm to searing and strange symbols etched into its surface ignited with a sickly glow.
She had torn the seals and had spoken the name. She had called forth what should have remained buried. The air shook and a strange sensation filled the room. Vale stepped forward rising from the darkness like a massive mountain breaking through a black ocean. His presence chilled the air around him dimming the flickering torchlight and draining the hope from the hearts of those who watched him return. He wasn't large like a man, but he carried a terrifying weight, like a living nightmare that swallowed up everything around him.
When his eyes opened, they revealed deep, endless voids having witnessed countless sufferings and destined to outlast any joy. They fell upon the witch and she felt the immense pressure of his gaze, heavy with the judgment of eternity.
"Hail, my Lord," she stammered, her voice quaking under the force of his attention. "I humbly awaken you from your slumber."
The words felt bitter and heavy on her tongue. She realized she had crossed a line that not even the gods dared to touch. She had freed something that creation itself had tried to keep contained. The weight of her choice settled on her like a heavy shroud, suffocating and inescapable.
The shadows that had once served her loyally, a collection of darkened forms brought to life by unseen forces, began to shake with a kind of anxiety they had never experienced before. They pressed against the cold stone walls of the chamber, their once-confident demeanor crumbling as they whimpered like frightened animals cornered by a predator.
Then, one shadow faltered, its instinct for self-preservation taking over. In a moment of sheer panic, it darted toward the entrance, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere. Vale's attention glided toward the fleeing figure, a predatory focus sweeping over him.
But the shadow never made it to the door.
In an instant, the Awakened movements were fluid and almost elegant, his hand cutting through the air like a conductor guiding an orchestra. The fleeing shadow suddenly froze mid-flight, its descent into terror captured in a heartbeat. A piercing scream erupted, initially a cry of sheer anguish that transformed into something unnervingly wet and agonizing, a sign that this wasn't just flight;it was resignation.
The creature's spine separated at three points simultaneously. Vertebrae shot from its back like broken piano keys clattering against stone walls. Its ribs exploded outward in a spray of bone fragments that embedded themselves in the chamber's ancient stones as blood erupted from the cavity where its chest had been painting the walls in abstract patterns of crimson.
The shadow's arms tore free at the shoulders with sounds like wet fabric ripping. Its legs snapped at impossible angles before separating completely from the torso while its head, eyes still wide with final terror, bounced across the floor like a discarded toy before coming to rest against the altar's base. What remained fell in pieces- chunks of meat slapped against stone blood pooling and congealing. The stench of death filled the chamber.
The Awakened who had not moved an inch from his position didn't change his expression nor blinked. The second shadow lasted longer. It pressed itself against the far wall, human enough in appearance to make its terror recognizable. It tried to speak, to beg, to offer bargains that had no meaning but…
(Changing "the Awakened" to Vale)
Vale raised one finger. The shadow's chest imploded. Ribs collapsed inward like a house of cards in a hurricane. The creature's eyes bulged from their sockets before bursting in twin sprays of fluid. Blood erupted from its mouth in thick gout and it crumpled to the floor like discarded clothing. The blood soaked into the ancient stones which seemed to drink it eagerly.
The final shadow had wisdom enough to kneel. It pressed its face to the blood soaked floor and waited for judgment. Vale considered it for a moment and when he moved, it was with casual precision. His hand closed around empty air and the shadow's throat collapsed as if gripped by invisible fingers. The creature clawed at its neck fighting for breath that would never come. Its body convulsed once, twice then went still.
Silence returned to the chamber. The only sound was blood dripping from the walls.
Vale turned his attention to the witch who tried to retreat with her hands scrambling for the ceremonial dagger at her belt while her fingers closed around the handle just as Vale's closed around her hair. He lifted her from the ground with effortless strength bringing her face level with his own.
There was no malice in his expression but only the patient interest of a scientist observing an insect. The witch's struggles ceased. as the dagger fell from nerveless fingers. She stared into those void eyes and saw the truth of what she had unleashed!
Vale released her hair letting her drop to the floor like a discarded puppet. He then removed her jacket with movements that suggested careful consideration then cast it aside. The garment landed in a pool of congealing blood with a soft splash. He stepped back and studied his work on the chamber that had become a death house. Blood decorated every surface with pieces of his victims laying scattered like puzzle pieces that would never fit together again. His lips curved into something that might have been a smile but held neither warmth, nor humor, nor humanity. It was the expression of something that found amusement in the concept of hope.
"You thought you could control me," Vale said, his voice deep and husky. "How delightfully naive. What's your next trick? Teaching fish to sing opera?"
The witch made no reply. She could make no reply due to the magnitude of her error that had broken something essential within her mind.
Vale turned and walked away with his footsteps echoing through the manor's empty halls, each footstep sound hailing like a funeral bell for the world's innocence.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vale's is the Awakened. Used the name to make it easier