“What do you want from me?”
“For starters…everything.”
That was our deal.
I’ve come to realize in the five years since I agreed to his terms that
there’s no deal at all. I asked for, and got, nothing in the
exchange. Contemplating those words for 65
months, searching for the meaning behind “for starters” has won me only
frustration and dread until today.
I’ve kept my part of the bargain, if you can call
it that. All the gods help me, I’ve come to
enjoy it. Everything. Malphas asks and I do… everything, every
time. Blood stains my hands and shame my
heart. Heavy is my guilty burden. Pleasure.
For his dark deeds.
He came to me when, at all costs of peril, I
worshipped his name. Malphas the deceiver.
Malphas the grim. Malphas the hunter.
I’d heard the tales yet under cover of the blackest nights, I whispered
I would do anything. In my 282 weeks of devotion, I’ve learned Malphas would pounce
for far less. The stories were true. Relentlessly,
he stalked me in the black guise of writhing muscle and searing desire. At the climax of my sanity, the words
exploded forth, “What do you want from me?”
Servitude.
For starters. Nineteen hundred and forty two days surrendered in the
blood pits as concubine to his depraved lust.
That: in addition to my task. Reigning
terror on those who dare whisper his name without commitment, without true
dedication. Not without
consequence. Utter his name and I will
collect the ill conceived promises, through whatever means I deem necessary and
I am not gentle. I am a scarred and faithful disciple honed by fire. I am the wrath of Malphas, when you are not
worthy of Malphas, and it’s been far longer that I’ve reveled in my actions
than been revolted by them. It’s time my
trial ended. I was right to be afraid.
I am an acolyte. I’m to be revered.
For 273 days.
Nine months--give or take. After which, the demon spawn will rent free my body and quench itself on my life force.
By that, Malphas means to grant my wish. I would do anything to be free
of this life. Those were the words I
whispered.
