Misunderstood Villain Heroines Mourn My Death Chapter 168
168: a curse’s price ii[ … words ]
[ … words ]
Malik felt his jaw clench at the unrelenting words.
“DO YOU SEE IT NOW? DO YOU GRASP IT NOW?”
Something curled in his gut.
“THE INEVITABILITY. THE CERTAINTY.”
The words settled in his ribs like a slow, creeping rot.
“THE TRUTH OF WHAT IS TO COME.”
The thing sighed, and the world contracted.
“I AM THE END THAT AWAITS YOU. THE MAW THAT OPENS WIDE TO CONSUME YOU. THE SHADOW THAT CRAWLS BENEATH YOUR SKIN AND WAITS FOR THE MOMENT TO STRIKE. FOR THE MOMENT YOU FALTER. FOR THE MOMENT YOU ARE WEAK.”
Malik exhaled, slow.
“AND WHEN THAT MOMENT COMES?”
Another pause.
“AGAIN, I WILL SWALLOW YOU, I WILL DRINK YOU IN, I WILL INGEST ALL THAT YOU ARE AND MAKE IT MINE, BECAUSE IT WAS NEVER YOURS. IT WAS ALWAYS MEANT TO BE MINE. I HAVE WAITED, I HAVE HUNGERED, I HAVE ENDURED. THE PAIN OF KNOWING, THE ACHE OF WATCHING, THE TORMENT OF SEEING WHAT SHOULD BE MINE RESTING IN YOUR UNWORTHY HANDS. AND NOW, NOW, NOW, YOU ARE HERE. YOU ARE BEFORE ME. AND I WILL NOT BE DENIED. I AM THE ABYSS THAT CONSUMES. I AM THE HUNGER THAT DEVOURS. AND YOU, YOU, YOU, ARE THE OFFERING. YOU ARE THE SACRIFICE. YOU ARE THE MEAL. I WILL EAT IT FROM YOUR MARROW. I WILL PULL IT THREAD BY THREAD FROM YOUR SOUL AND SPIN IT INTO MYSELF. MAKE IT MY OWN. MAKE IT MINE. MAKE YOU MINE. AND WHEN I HAVE TAKEN IT FROM YOU. WHEN YOU ARE HOLLOW, WHEN YOU ARE EMPTY, WHEN YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A SHELL DRAINED OF ALL THAT MADE YOU. I WILL BEGIN AGAIN. I WILL STEP INTO THE ENDLESS CYCLE. I WILL SEIZE THE POWER THAT YOU SQUANDERED. I WILL TWIST IT TO MY OWN WILL. AND I WILL FEAST UPON THE COUNTLESS POSSIBILITIES. I WILL DRINK DEEP OF THE INFINITE STREAMS OF TIME. I WILL TASTE EVERY BRANCH, EVERY FORK, EVERY DIVERGING PATH. AND I WILL REJOICE. I WILL REVEL. I WILL DROWN IN THE OCEAN OF WHAT COULD BE AND WHAT SHOULD BE AND WHAT WILL BE. BECAUSE IT WILL BE MINE. IT WILL BE MINE. IT WILL BE MINE. NO MORE YOU. NO MORE. YOUR STRUGGLES NO MORE. YOUR PITIFUL ATTEMPTS NO MORE. YOUR FUTILE DEATHS AND REBIRTHS NO MORE. ONLY ME, ONLY MY WILL, ONLY MY HUNGER SATED. FOR THE FIRST TIME AND THE LAST TIME AND EVERY TIME IN BETWEEN.”
The being exhaled once more.
Though it had no mouth with which to breathe.
Just teeth.
“IT IS THE ANSWER TO A HUNGER. A HUNGER THAT GNAWS. THAT BURNS. THAT TWISTS WITHIN ME. A HUNGER GIVEN VOICE. A HUNGER MADE REAL. A HUNGER THAT WILL NOT BE DENIED.”
A shift. A pulse. A silence that swelled and swelled and swelled—
“I HAVE WAITED. I HAVE WATCHED. I HAVE KNOWN. YOU HAVE WALKED SO MANY PATHS. TOO MANY. TOO MANY. SO MANY THAT YOU DO NOT EVEN SEE THEM ANYMORE. DO NOT COUNT THEM. DO NOT HEAR THEIR ECHOES. BUT I DO.”
A beat.
“I HEAR EVERY DEATH. EVERY SCREAM. EVERY BREATH CHOKED FROM YOU. EVERY TEAR SHED. EVERY BONE BROKEN. EVERY MIND SHATTERED.”
Another.
“I HAVE WALKED WITH YOU. UNSEEN. UNTOUCHED. UNABLE TO REACH. UNABLE TO TAKE. UNABLE TO RIP INTO YOU AND DRAG YOU INTO MYSELF. AND NOW. NOW. NOW. NOW.”
The air tightened. The weight of it trembled.
“YOU ARE HERE. FLESH AND BLOOD AND BONE AND POWER. UNSPOILED BY WISDOM. UNTAINTED BY TRUE COMPREHENSION. I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW… YOU ARE PERFECT.”
A low, reverent hum.
“YOU ARE THE KEY AND THE DOOR. THE GATE AND THE LOCK. YOU ARE WHAT I NEED. WHAT I CRAVE. WHAT I WILL HAVE. YOU DO NOT NEED TO AGREE. YOU DO NOT NEED TO COMPLY. YOU DO NOT NEED TO SPEAK AT ALL. YOUR CONSENT IS WIND. YOUR REFUSAL IS DUST. YOUR STRUGGLE—A JOY. A DELIGHT. A FLEETING NOTE OF SPICE BEFORE THE FEAST BEGINS.”
Laughter, quiet and knowing.
“YOU THINK YOU CAN RESIST. YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN. YOU THINK YOU CAN FIGHT. BUT I AM BEYOND YOU. BEYOND TIME. BEYOND FORM. BEYOND THE TRIVIALITIES OF BODY AND SOUL. I AM THE GAP BETWEEN. I AM THE VOID IN KNOWING. I AM THE VOICE IN THE SILENCE. THE WHISPER BEFORE DEATH. THE LAST THING YOU SEE BEFORE THE WORLD BLINKS TO BLACK. I AM THAT WHICH IS. AND WHICH IS NOT.”
A pause.
“I AM THE MAW THAT SWALLOWS THE UNSEEN. THE LOST. THE FORGOTTEN… YOU.”
A ripple. A distortion through the very fabric of things.
“YOUR POWER. YOUR CYCLE. YOUR RETURN. YOUR DEATH.”
“ALL OF IT. ALL OF IT. ALL OF IT.”
“MINE TO TAKE. MINE TO KEEP. MINE TO DEVOUR.”
“TO BREAK. TO CONSUME. TO REWRITE.”
“UNTIL YOU ARE NOTHING.”
“UNTIL YOU ARE ME.”
“UNTIL THE RETURN IS NO LONGER YOURS—BUT MINE.”
“MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE.”
Reality itself strained.
“AND WHEN IT IS DONE. WHEN I HAVE TURNED YOUR CYCLE UPON MYSELF. AND WALKED YOUR PATHS. AND REWRITTEN THEM WITH MY NAME.”
“WHEN I HAVE STOLEN YOUR BREATHS. AND YOUR HEARTBEATS. AND YOUR SUFFERING. AND YOUR JOY.”
“WHEN I HAVE TASTED ALL YOU HAVE TASTED. AND LIVED ALL YOU HAVE LIVED. AND MADE IT MY OWN.”
“I WILL BE MORE. I WILL BE COMPLETE. I WILL BE INFINITE.”
“AND YOU…”
“YOU WILL BE GONE.”
A creeping hush.
“YOU WILL BE DUST. YOU WILL BE NOTHING.”
“LESS THAN NOTHING. FORGOTTEN. ERASED. UNDONE.”
A slow, deliberate exhale.
“FOR EVEN NOW—EVEN NOW.”
“YOU ARE ONLY WHAT YOUR CYCLE ALLOWS YOU TO BE. ONLY WHAT IT HAS SHAPED YOU INTO. ONLY WHAT IT HAS LEFT YOU AS.”
“AND WITHOUT IT?”
“WITHOUT ITS GUIDING HAND? WITHOUT ITS TWISTED MERCY? WITHOUT ITS CRUEL KINDNESS?”
“WHAT ARE YOU?”
A whisper. Almost gentle.
“WHAT IS LEFT OF YOU?”
“A HUSK. A REMNANT. A FRAGMENT.”
“A THING THAT NEVER WAS. AND NEVER WILL BE.”
“AND I—”
“I WILL BE ALL THAT IS LEFT OF YOU.”
A tremor. A promise.
“I WILL WEAR YOUR SKIN. AND SPEAK WITH YOUR VOICE. AND WALK WITH YOUR STEPS.”
“BUT THEY WILL BE MINE.”
“MINE. MINE. MINE.”
“AND YOU WILL SCREAM. BUT YOU WILL NOT BE HEARD.”
“YOU WILL CRY. BUT THERE WILL BE NO ANSWER.”
“YOU WILL REACH. BUT THERE WILL BE NOTHING TO GRASP.”
“AND I—”
A smile, unseen.
“I WILL SMILE. I WILL SAVOR. I WILL RELISH. I WILL FEAST.”
“UNTIL THERE IS NOTHING LEFT.”
“UNTIL THERE IS ONLY SILENCE. ONLY STILLNESS.”
It leaned back, the weight of its presence receding, yet still clinging to the room.
“ONLY…”
A final pause. A silent weight, waiting to be lifted.
“ME.”
Then nothing.
No words. No whispers. No sound.
Just the silence of something waiting, watching.
And Malik standing in the center of it all.
Alone.
Blink.
