Darkness.

Such a lovely thing.

It was filled and created by mystery, and held such secrets in its billowing, dizzying depths. It defined the night, as it slowly descended and masked the world, hiding the visible things in its shadows.

Now, what exactly was darkness? Most said it was simply the absence of light. But oh, it was so much more than that. How could they explain the inexplicable fear that gripped the mind when engulfed in it? How could they explain the feeling of dread, the feeling of eyes on them, watching their every move. The urge to keep looking over their shoulder, the involuntary shivers that made the hair on the back of their necks stand up?

Fear. Such a wonderful and mysterious emotion. No one could exactly explain fear, could they? Why was it that they could easily discern such petty emotions as happiness, but not ones so complex such as fear?

Perhaps there was more to fear then simply the feeling of being afraid.

Fear could be used as a tool, a weapon. But of course, the easiest way to get an enemy to submit was to expose them to fear.

Fear could make a man do almost anything. It could make him turn on those he called his friends.

It could make him bow down to a man he hated.

It could drive him to such lengths such as to defy his humanity and turn into a monster before his own eyes.

It was truly an instrument of the gods.

But fear held other properties for beings such as himself. It made the vitae stronger.

Ah, but of course, torturing them was a necessity, but who was to say he couldn't enjoy it? There were so many different, wondrous ways of doing things! Why, saws and knives, ha! That was only the beginning! There were iron maidens, brazen bulls, spikes, iron chairs, numerous different contraptions that he could use to illicit the precious substance from his victims. And the screams, oh, the screams! What pleasure it brought him, knowing he had their lives in the palm of his hand! Look at how broken and helpless they are, how the light has died in their eyes! How they plead and cry for help, how grown men weep pathetically as if they were a small child! It was more entertaining to watch the women, how they would beg for the lives of their children, to offer themselves instead. A noble and valiant effort, really, but useless all the same. In the end, no one will be saved.

Now Daniel, he was an interesting case: he'd found an orb, down in the tunnels of Africa. He'd come crawling to him, on his knees begging for help. And help he received. Though he was attentive, he was foolish if he thought the look of disgust in his eyes wasn't obvious. It was quite amusing, really. But he loves himself too much to care for them. He'll continue to do it. Soon, he'll enjoy it as well. Inflicting pain. The screams. The fear. He'll fall into darkness and insanity. And then, eventually, death.

Just like the others.


A/N: Ugh. I hate Alexander so much. *shudder* So yeah. This one was pretty dark, but I had fun writing it. Oh, and iron maidens and brazen bulls are torture devices used in the "olden days". Anyway, thank you for reading!