Fledglings

                     (I want to make it good, so point out mistakes and errors)

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There is only silence, there is only ash.

There is only blood, there is only fear.

Men standing in rows with varying heights and sizes, steel themselves as they watch on in a dimly lit cavern. The cavern is riddled with runes and carvings, ten torches surrounding them with an odd blue color. The alter in the middle of the room had small vent lines connecting to the walls; a hollowing in the slab it comes from.

They are naked and stoic without a word or murmur as cloaked figures enter the cavern and trudged to the alter.

You can not win, you can not escape.

You can not see, you can not think.

The cloak of the figures is colored black with white lining, yet one has golden lining as though they are an outlier. The leader perhaps? -Doesn't matter.

The cloaked figure with golden lining steps in front of the alter and pours the contents of a marble bowl into it. Bright red blood begins to pile in the center and then drain out of the vent, the runes begin to glow and the odd blue flames blow out by sudden wind that pick up as the runes grow stronger.

There is no one, There is nothing.

There is glass, there is stone.

Soon, the men begin to smile and close their eyes one by one. Accepting what is to come next, hoping to be chosen.

A scream is rip out of one of the men as his eyes begin to glow purple and black tendrils spreading over his bare body. Bitter snarls roar from the others as they tear into each other for their failure. Any who blasphemously attack the obvious vessel get torn into and changed.

Bring forth pain, bring forth hate.

Bring forth fire, bring forth cold.

Arms bent and flesh green, their legs shift to goat hinds and hooves as eyes shrink into black beads and multiplied onto their arms in even lines. Black, sharp arachnid legs free themselves from their backs and lift their bodies to move a radically. They scream.

All others have yet to stop their assault on their comrades and this was pleasing to the the cloaked figures.

Blood splatter the cavern and coat those who were left.

My kin, my burden.

My people, my slaves.

The vessel finished letting in his master and his body accommodates to distinguish his- it's importance.

Slick, black skull and black extending into white on the arms and calves. Sharp purple, glowing eyes and three crooked, fanged mouths for a face with no nose. The vessel grew in size, fingers and toes melt together into threes. Its body is covered in purple, pulsing veins, extra limbs protrude from its sides and move about in fluid motion.

The vessel feasts on the fallen bodies regardless of if they have completely passed; relishing the pleasant sounds of mindless blathering screams and whispering of nonsensical incantations.

I am here, I am existence.

I am humanity, I am inhuman.

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                                                        The End.