𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙰𝚂𝚃𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳

056

Love. A word that evokes a whirlwind of emotions, a symphony of feelings ranging from the sublime to the utterly confusing. It's a force that can propel us to great heights, yet also plunge us into depths of despair. And perhaps this is the very essence of love's twisted nature – its ability to be both exhilarating and agonizing, beautiful and messy, a paradox wrapped in an enigma.

For some, the yearning for love transcends reason. Starved of genuine affection, they grasp at any semblance of connection, even if it comes in a twisted, unhealthy form. They crave the warmth of connection, however distorted, because it offers a fleeting escape from the chilling emptiness of a love-deprived life. This hunger can be a dangerous trap, leading individuals down a path of self-destruction. It underscores the profound need for genuine, nurturing connections, and the devastating consequences of their absence.

••••

The cave reeked of death and dust, the air thick with the scent of decay. Skeletons, bleached white by time, lay scattered like forgotten toys. Kitty, her breath catching in her throat, navigated the morbid landscape, her footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. The air hung heavy with a foreboding that sent chills down her spine.

In the center of the chamber, dominating the space, lay a throne fashioned entirely of bones. Perched upon it sat St. Zachary, his form shrouded in shadows. His long dark hair cascaded down his back, a waterfall of obsidian, and his skin, pale as moonstone, seemed to shimmer under the faint light sources that flickered from the cave walls. Kitty, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest, hesitantly approached.

Zachary's eyes, devoid of irises, were black pools, reflecting nothing but the darkness that surrounded them. They seemed to peer through her, seeing right through the mask of bravery she had painstakingly crafted. It was a disquieting experience, as though he was looking directly into her soul, judging her every thought and fear.

"St. Zachary," she began, her voice barely a whisper. The words felt like stones in her mouth, heavy and cumbersome.

He did not speak, his gaze unwavering, his presence overwhelming. The silence stretched in the cavern, suffocating. Kitty, paralyzed by fear, felt her ruse begin to crumble.

"I've found a way to bring back Chris"

His gaze felt like a cold wind, stripping away the layers of her carefully constructed persona. Kitty's voice trembled, betraying her inner turmoil. "I..." she began again, her throat constricting. "I... I..."

The vastness of the cave seemed to close in around her, the shadows threatening to consume her whole. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken judgment bearing down on her.

"How?" Zachary's voice broke the silence, deep and resonant, like the rumble of an earthquake. Kitty felt a shiver run down her spine, more from fear than from the chill of the cave.

Her mouth went dry. The story she had prepared, the tale she had crafted, now felt hollow, flimsy. In the face of this ancient beast, she was exposed, vulnerable. The possibility of her death loomed like a dark cloud, suffocating and inevitable.

Kitty could feel herself sinking into a quagmire of terror, her carefully constructed defense crumbling under the weight of her own fear. The silence in the cave felt deafening, each tick of the clock an eternity. She knew, in her heart, that her words would not be enough. Not with those eyes, those bottomless black eyes that stared into her soul, judging her every weakness.

The threat of death felt real, immediate. And she was utterly unprepared.

"Sacrifice" Kitty murmured "I need to sacrifice a female. The soul of the female would need a host. Afterall, the body's time hadn't yet come. I'll keep Chris' body near the sacrifice and the soul would find it's way to a hallow body." Kitty declared

"And if that doesn't work?" St Zachary asked calmly but his voice promised a brutal death

"It will" Kitty said confidently"

St. Zachary's eyes remained fixed on Kitty, the black pits boring into her like daggers. He rose from the bone throne like a specter, his lean form moving with a grace belying his fearsome aura. The shadows, dancing upon the cave walls, seemed to dance to the silent rhythm of his unearthly presence.

"Bring me my Chris," he said, his voice a cold whip.

"But......" Kitty stopped to see St Zachary's reaction

"She won't remember anything. She won't act like Chris. She will be alive, but she won't be her"

St. Zachary's eyes widened, and a cold, malicious smile crept onto his lips like a serpent. "A small price to pay," he said, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "If she doesn't remember, if she's not truly Chris, what will I care?"

His words echoed through the cave, each syllable dripping with a cruel finality.

Kitty's eyes gained the faded light and she looked straight into St Zachary's eyes "I need a place.....for sacrifice. I'll have to burn the female"

St. Zachary tilted his head to one side, contemplating Kitty's words. "Ah, dear female. Your request is quite a task."

His voice was light, almost playful. "But I can find a suitable place for your sacrifice. I have a perfect spot." His eyes gleamed with a morbid excitement.

Kitty felt all her fear melting like ice placed under fire. The disgust that took its place was so overwhelming that Kitty feared she let her grimace show

One that is deprived of love becomes so obsessed with the taste of love. Once, tasted, the feeling is like a thousand drums beating your favourite song. So, the next time he feels the same. He doesn't care how he feels the same.

St Zachary was desperate to feel Chris again. To hear her breathe. To feel her skin. To hear her say his name.

He didn't give a damn if she was different

As long as she looked the same