Life Eternal

Misery. Pain. Fear.

House Hade was a proud and noble caste in Anfitrian. Lady Perdita Hade and her equally cold husband, Lord Byron Hade Sr were well known as spell crafters. Using the bits of forgotten knowledge to stitch together what was left. Yet their allegiances of the demonic lay in secret. Under the thin flesh of nobility were those who groveled toward the King of Demons, of whom they found boons within his worship.

Their son, Byron Hade Jr was a young boy when he was murdered. A sacrifice to their lord by forces of fate unbeknown to them. Taken in stride of closed lips they lived a different life. The test bequethed to them came with the first bell toll of death to their love. The only force they had truly known in the bitter and dreary world. A light they had been given in the eyes of their son. A small glimmer of hope that had been snuffed out by a pack of the very demons they still worship. Their devotion had not wavered in these twisted moments, and yet something still grew resented.

It was Perdita who picked up a shovel first. Grave dirt was moved and shuffeled to reveal the decaying remains of their once beautiful son. Byron was not one to deny a moment of passion. And the two went to work under the moon hanging above the mists within their dank undercroft.

Bone would be fused to wood, porcelain, and wool. Stitch after stitch and bolt after bolt until the semblance became uncanny of what once was. A prayer to the dark omen befouling these lands, and a blessing to be given. A demons heart. Their only joy taken from them by the force they accepted as dominator of their lives would be appeased once more. For their sons eternal dream to be bereft of ending to find new awakenings. Yes. This was the correct path to their test. To bring their pride back from the abyss as a vessel of hate for their lord.

Empty socketed eyes stare up towards them, beautiful white woolen hair tumbles down the puppet's face. It was perfect. He was perfect. They would appease their dark masters, and they would have their son again.

A spell of purest alchemy, soulcraft, and fel worship.

What had not been expected were the growing shadows of unseen hands. Forces rebellious and fallen in the world as the innocent visage of a dead son was evoked for maligned purpose. The Lord and Lady's palms rest on the chest of their facade offspring, fueling the spell with desperate longing to feel the dark heart beating. Only for their hands to be met with extensions of another. And another.

Worship unseen. The fingers twitch upon an unseen figure endless distances away. A glimmering shard embed in the hearts of all mankind finds anew grace in the evocation of one of his vast domain. Vile as they were, yet a twisted innocence as they are. Unintended divinity flows from their fingertips. Called forth by their ritualistic intention. The two intertwining threads glow together a sickly verdance. Eyeless sockets fill with a dull green hue as the two parentage grew overjoyed at what they felt under their hands.

Thmp Thmp.

Thmp Thmp.

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Pub: 05 May 2025 05:09 UTC

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