Infinite

Chapter 6

I had realized, in a moment that I did not seem to remember, that I was afraid. I was afraid of losing what I had worked so hard to gain, and I was afraid that in working so hard I had gained much more than what I had bargained for. What was this thing that was growing all around me? And why must it suddenly be begotten within my own flesh and bones the very same way that such ease used to please me? The infinity of such a conscience was growing unto the depths of such a striking and rare soul (as Sebastian had once spoke of it), that I feared it would crumble until I reimagined what my purpose would be.

I was not naive enough to believe in such a thing as god, nor love, nor steady human compassion. I was well aware of the pure insolence that was humanity, and I had never once tried to hide from my own pitiful emotions. If our own existence was as futile as it seemed, and if nothing truly mattered, then why should I spend such a meaningless existence reveling in what those before me had laid? I would not... I refused to accept anything that did not fuel me... and the things that fueled me tended to be raw and wild.

I suppose Sebastian was right whenever he spoke of my soul.

"You are unlike any being I have ever sought to imagine."

I scoffed at the remark, gaze hovering over the perfectly handsome features of his face; hoping to grasp at something more than just that unscrupulous gaze as he sat in the parlor across from me.

I knew that such a social setting would be seen as improper to the eyes of anyone who turned a cheek to the underworld... to anyone who didn't see us for what we truly were.

"How is that, then? Am I only to be something you admire, and never something that you would long to touch or to devour?"

"No, sir... you patronize me."

"Do I, now? Then how is it that you allow yourself to crave my spirit? How is it that you do not seem to understand that there is a conscience hiding beneath such... divinity, as you call it?"

His eyes seemed to flare with that certain kind of aggression that only came with his bouts of demonic presence. They always reminded me of what I had, and what I had not.

"Why must you believe that you and your soul are different things?"

A cloud encased the glow of the moon, then; swathing his face in a darkness that I was sure reflected his own soul and conscious, if he had them.

I thought on what he said for a moment, realizing that he was right. I would eventually have to realize that this body in which my essence dwelled was nothing but a vessel in which to translate my imprint unto whatever I encountered. I glanced away if only for a moment; a display of submission I had hoped he had not caught.

I knew that he did.

"I do not know."

I muttered; far more breathlessly than I had hoped.

"What do you know of it, then... young lord? What do you know of your soul?"

His tone seemed to penetrate whatever whits I had left about me, and I was near forced to look away from the intensity of that wandering gaze.

"I do not."

"You do not know of it? Haven't I taught you better than that?"

He had taught me so much of myself that I feared he knew more of it than I did.

"You know more of it than I ever have... of that I am certain."

"Perhaps I only perceive through the right lens as to see it fully."

I stood suddenly. I did not know what force compelled me to do so, but I was sure that some part of me was angry for not knowing... for never searching far enough into the depths of me to see what made me tick.