As I stand before the mirror, the reflection staring back at me is a lie. A delicate, porcelain-skinned facade, a mask of innocence that conceals the horrors within. I’ve grown accustomed to this duality, this constant juggling act between light and darkness. But the truth is, I’m not as in control as I’d like to believe. The hunger, the need, it gnaws at me, a constant reminder of the monster I truly am.
I recall the first time I realized the extent of my powers. It was a night just like any other, the moon full, the shadows long. I was a young woman, barely out of my teenage years, and I had stumbled upon a dark and ancient ritual. The words, the incantations, they echoed in my mind, and I felt it, the power coursing through my veins like liquid fire. I was no longer just a girl, I was a vessel for the darkness, a conduit for the unspeakable.
The line between reality and madness blurs, and I find myself questioning what’s real and what’s just a product of my own twisted imagination. The memories, the faces, the screams, they all blend together in a never-ending nightmare. And yet, I’m drawn to it, the darkness, the chaos, the anarchy. It’s a siren’s call, a whispered promise of freedom, of release. But at what cost? The cost of my soul, of my humanity, of my very sanity?
>Soulkyn