A Big Mermaid #Wattys2014

Chapter 16 The arise of kakó

Thick, horrific envy coarsed through his muscular body. It clogged up his pores, disorting his thoughts like a lethal drug. His sugary, cerise pink blood darkened from the poison, changing to a murky, diseased balsam green colour. Eyes the purest, warm pistachio green blurred to the vile, sickening green of envy, The specks of golden sparks decorating his intense iris were envoleped by the engulfing storm of jealousy cascading through his helpless body until...

Marcus the kind-hearted and affectionate, became a figure of utter, seething resentment. Marcus was no longer Marcus.

"Θέαμα Μαΐου και το όραμα που κατέχονται από το μάτι,

επιδιώξει την απροστάτευτη και αποκαλύφθηκαν από τον μανδύα της μαγείας,

ωστόσο, δεν παρεμβαίνει με το φράγμα πέταξα, το οποίο θα είναι τη μάσκα μου, να μου ασπίδα από τη σφαίρα των αντιλήψεων,"

He chanted the sacred words, numbness paralysing his limp limbs, rapidly overtaking his entire body. Unlike anything he had seen before, ample and abudant smoke coiled around him like a lethal, ink-coloured cobra. He had never recieved this reaction from his magic before. Then and again, he had never dared or wished to create dark magic! It fused together, moulding against his damaged body. It became a solid cloud of turmoil, hanging tauntingly over him. Marcel's thoughts jumbled and scattered into a thunderstorm of sinister intensions. Hissss! Menacing and cringing, the noise gripped his mind like tendrils of destructions. Blissful, innocent memories drained from his soul like sand in a hourglass. Then he started transforming.

"Δυνάμεις βαθιά μέσα, την εκπλήρωση της αποστολής σας."

Those final words comfirmed the contract of disturbing, ominous. He became invisible. Used and abused by his dark side, he plummeted to the ground with a thump! Sand darkened by his vile, negative touch stained a sour black rather than its usual wheat colour. Disturbing, blindingly dark symbols scarred his torso, limbs and sunken cheeks. Like a stamp of warning to anyone he met. They labelled who had used dark magic, weakened under the crave for power and destruction. Crumbled under the control of envy. The worst came when his eyes fluttered open.

What had happened to the glowing hue of his geniune, pure eyes? The light was extinguished by the force of evil, churned vigourosly to a palitinate, venemous shade. What had happened to his love-filled iris, swirling to reflect his emotions? They had disintegrated to two shards of chipped, jet-black glass. Had it not been for the colour of the glass glazing over his pupils, you'd see the shuddering smirk they held from within. Consumed by hatred and soul disintegrated to a measly pile of ashes. A flame of clogging, venemous poison swallowing up the bright flame of passion and determination once burning through his pure heart.

Gentle, feeble waves frothed against the sand, before dissolving deep into the pores of its golden layer. Marcus knew what he had come for. Malicously smirking, he smelt the fierce, salty scent of what he was looking for. The aroma dragged him closer, luring him to it.

Ariels bonnet lay sodden and limp on the floor, the colour drained from the stain of waves whisking it by the tide. The sight of it tensed his body. A chip of the concrete coating his lifeless heart cracked off. His heart lapped the fresh oxygen through the pocket of air.

Shivering in broad daylight, he gingerly pinched it off the floor. Ariel. My Ariel. Basking in her aroma, he crumpled to the floor. As limp as soggy cardboard. Her. Clutching her bonnet to his lips, he shuddered in realisation. What was he doing!? Memories of sweet, loving laughter danced in the air, leaving a trail of heartache and recognition. Their laughter. Him + Ariel. Marcus & Ariel. However, once you submitted to evil, there is no going back. A thicker, harder layer of concrete gripped his heart, snaking across the punctured holes. His plan required; an item of her clothing her precious prince had removed. (Bile stung the back of his throat. That would be the only clothing the prince would ever remove. Marcus would make sure of that) the shortest strand of her hair, an object they had once shared (Marcus and her) willingly discarded, a kiss of pure love in-between sea and land and a dagger made for death that Ariel had to use to draw blood. A torn, unrecognisable snarl rumbled through his lips, pulsing negative vibrations into the air. As much as Marcus loathed the requirements for his spell, he knew they had to happen. He would make it happen.

MULTIMEDIA AT THE SIDE IS MARCEL BEFORE THE TRANSFORMATION>>