My stomach twisted in a manner I didn’t think possible. The urge to expel everything I’d eaten in the past week from my mouth was on a dangerous uphill climb, and my blood felt like ice churning through every inch of my body. My clammy hands trembled, letting the heirloom—a simple necklace—drop to the floor. It clattered, momentarily cutting the deathly silence in the chamber which held me and this—

Thing.

It was only human in appearance, baring something I hated to call my likeness. A woman described as the most wicked to ever exist. Someone that stood unopposed as the pinnacle of abomination, a pedestal of monstrous malice and inhuman inconsideration of life. The evilest creature to lay eyes upon the world. In centuries upon centuries, no warlord, tyrant, or beast even managed to hold a candle to the blazing wildfire that was her sheer villainy.

I didn’t dare utter her name, but I could not stop my mind from betraying me and impulsively bringing it to life. Noelle La Pravus, the woman I’d given new life to only moments ago. The woman who I now knew as my predecessor.

She stepped forwards, escaping the shadow that momentarily eclipsed her form. My beady eyes met hers for only a second, for that was all I could bare before I fell to my knees, gaze glued to the ground I clung to. It was not an act of respect, nor obedience. But every cell in my body instinctually bent to whatever horrific aura Noelle had about her, and, like how once naturally shirks from flame after being burnt, standing near her felt like a noose around my throat. I realized, then, that this would be the day I die. No miracle, no god, could save me from the monster I’d given new flesh. No, in fact, they most likely damned me. Cursed my foolish curiosity, which birthed the second coming of absolute evil. I did nothing but wait, preparing for whatever manner of creature she would allow to make a meal out of me with her manipulation of dark matter itself. I squeeze my eyes tight, and wait, and wait, and wait, and pray it will be swift.

But nothing comes.

When I finally build the minuscule courage to open my eyes, through blurry vision, I can make out a hand. Terror grips me as she grasps my wrist. Instead of tearing my arm off, shoulder included—I’m lifted to my feet. For the first time in the minutes I’d been subjected to this hell, I finally felt worthy of taking a breath. And then, in the moments that pass, I can amass enough strength in my tongue to speak.

“Why—“

“Why not?”

She cuts me off, and I don’t make the mistake of doing anything but listen.

“Your blood is mine. Then, in the same manner, my blood is yours. That spell requires strength, child. And you seem to have it in spades. Your life will not end here. It has become the conduit for mine to begin anew.”

“You are now an incarnation of carnage, just as I. We shall open old scars and slice new wounds into the world. From this moment forwards, think of yourself as cursed. And I, as your hex.”

With no more than a swivel of her body, one of her four arms dragged my comparatively small figure along, descending deeper into the blackness before us.

“Come. We’ve much to do.”