Role

Chapter 3

The unholy union between the Scions of this world and the denizens of
the shadow realm has begun to change me in ways that I had never
anticipated. I began hearing them in my mind after being linked to
the Scepter for a few weeks. When I would strike the killing blow
upon a victim, they would surge, as if they were gorging themselves
on the act of murder. When I would perish at the hand of some foe,
again they would grow louder, feasting on the pain of my death...a
pain that they could feel, through the link I had accepted to the
Chasm. Many were the years that passed in service to both my Lord
and my Order, and they were always there, whispering things in my
mind that I could not understand. But it was not maddening...it feels
strangely comfortable, as if I were among kin. Recently my physical
form has begun to alter. So slow was the onset that at first I did
not notice it, but now it is all too obvious to escape my attention.
My wing feathers began to grow dull and grey, losing their luster as
surely as a corpse loses its rosy hue, and then they began to fall
out, revealing an opaque membrane, fragmented by the red slivers
that are my veins. At the same time this was happening, my spine had
developed a protrusion towards the bottom, and began taking on the
unmistakable likeness of a tail. My flesh has turned dark, as dark
as a hen, roasted over a fire, and within it is a strange monochrome,
which reflects light only slightly. The latest step of this transformation
has been the alteration of my eyes. Where once the whites were white, and
the irises were yellow, only glistening black orbs reside. I see as good
as I always have...perhaps even better at night, but it is still strange.
I find that I cannot keep my unholy weapon out of sight for long, for
I begin to crave its company-the company of anguished souls, the company
of death. All in all, I think I enjoy this transformation, though I do
not think many others will.