Chapter Twenty-Two
The Blackness II
What's this? The Black Thing senses movement. Confusion? Yes. Misunderstanding.
Moving more now. Quickly with urgency and purpose. The Black Thing stretches its tendrils out to learn more. Perhaps this is the moment that it has been waiting for. A chance for that one great meal to feast upon.
No, it isn't. That meal isn't here. Where has it gone? It is no where nearby. There is something else. Faint as the thing's mark itself. It can feel the tiny mold of anger and distaste. Like a fragile plant, it nourishes it. Yes, The Black Thing knows. He's host can pretend to be in this for a different reason. He can pretend to be the shining night. To rush in, save the girl, slay the dragon. Yes, he can pretend all he wants.
But the Blackness is what's really in his heart. It knows this. The thought of lofty and honorable goals can feel his mind, but in his heart the cry for murder is far stronger than the warm thoughts presented by fools.
Honor? Love? Hope? These are the words of a fool and fleeting at best. But there are other words. Anger. Hate. Revenge. These are the constants that the Blackness knows all too well. In all people these things can be brought forth much easier than anything so innocent as the words of the fools.
Even the purest of motivations can have a dark lining. The Blackness feels it. Brought on by frustration and anger at a life long lost. Yes, all it needs is a focus to bring it to bare. To realse the anger. To bring pain. Any pain even his own. That is all the Blackness needs. All it lives for is that one moment.
The moment of pure madness.
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