CHAPTER ONE
Her heart distorted frantically in the eerie night air; the once dank haven of her beloved crypt stood ablaze; ashes crashed towards her, they wove fast into her auburn hinted hair; the charcoal smoke smothered her ghostly skin and fumigated her already decrepit lungs.
She did not care.
She intently listened for a sound beyond the crackling red rage of heat, beyond the crazed cries of the wild townsfolk; their accusing glare did nothing to her demeanour -only a slight irritation niggling in her mind.
No, her devotion to detail strayed to the deep, depth well of her crypt; etched in her memory a million moons ago, this same night -only centuries apart; her life played over again and again, trapped in the hollows of time, always a step behind of this never-ending game.
The distortion of her heart ripped apart her spleen.
'Nooooo' her flaying heart screamed, 'this couldn't be happening again'.
But it was, it was -at a rate she did not suspect.
-
Whispers she had heard in dreams before her curse, distant echoes of lost scrolls no one ever paid attention to attack her in viscous force. Lilith's damnation overcast her pure crystal heart. Kirsteen never saw it coming -ignorance made her complacent, it blinded her reasoning.
Her rebirth of 666 years came at a price, a price Lilith eagerly savoured. 'An eye for an eye' she callously chanted back then; the century spell -never uttered before, seeped poisonously into Kirsteen's soul; perfecting its sinister hold, changing, twisting her slowly with each rebirth, her rise; her demonic deliverance.
Molten streams trickled down from her crimson-red-raw-dagger eyes onto her black-ashen smeared cheeks. Fire reflected off her iris, mimicking the growing flames across the clearing of the disjointed forrest; the townsfolk rarely came out to this part of the woods, something stirred, something had upset the balance; the irk in their eyes answered in song as Kirsteen's glance scoured through them. They were petrified, yet their unity, their drive to torch the crypt at this godforsaken hour, under this alluring full moon was foolish, too foolish...
Kirsteen's skin fought, lurched -compulsion overtook her senses. It tore deeply. Her once innocent crystal heart was no longer clear.
The moon sang to her; a lullaby to ease her suffering, it gently teased her -enticed her to quicken her monstrous metamorphous. Kirsteen stammered her ground.
N-n-no.
Her translucent skin scurried chasing rugged-fur, pasty-cold-deathly-skin then back again; undecided, tormented, which of the past creatures it should embody this final time -that was the plan; 666 years to learn, unlearn -then learn again; same prison in different realms, in different bodies. The same mind intact -though now a little twisted, gorged and deranged. Lilith's hold still strong -yet Kirsteen felt liberated, this rebirth was different, under this moon, amongst this crowd, beyond the crackling roar of the inviting flames, her crypt summoned her -it summoned her entire attention; the pull it had on her gave her strength of the two intertwined worlds, the earth and the underworld. Kirsteen rose unrivalled for the first time in centuries, her steel claws juxtaposed dangerously against her already dying, carcass skin -yet she never felt younger. A satisfying hunger swept her lips, her bloodlust eyes scanned in quick succession for celebratory feed, a feast worthy of a queen -she was spoilt with the majestic offerings of the moon, the calling for tonight, a success.
-
The townsfolk, unbeknown to themselves, were easy prey to Kirsteen, she lithely glided towards them, searching for a gorging feed. Her senses over-heightened, overwhelmed her to unadulterated giddiness; the onslaught of scents -this soon to a myriad-detained-delayed feed proved too much for her. She surrendered to the moon, gave it full reign to command her essence, her hunger, her thirst, her copious need to feed. She drifted into unconsciousness -sifting through the aromas pulsating through the thick, heavy heat of the flames which spread out towards her... Sweet and sour ribs wafted off pitchfork sized waif Jeremy Grim, a fine specimen but too scrawny for tonight's first feast Kirsteen thought. Next to him Kathleen Saunters plump curves twisted a-la-a spitfire roast, her skin sizzling provocatively under the over baked flames which eagerly feasted off the crypt; tempting, very tempting -maybe keep her as an aperitif for later she mused. Little Bran Green, on the other hand, oozed off cranberry seeped soggy sponge cake, warm, gooey and devilishly tempting -a definite desert -she noted for later. However; Kirsteen knew what she wanted, what her core hungered for; a feed of the century, Lilith's blessed child-carrier, her soon-to-be-demonic-child's mother; a siren -a vixen her blood ravished for, her essence had to be hers, a price Lilith had to pay for her now tainted crystal heart.
