Darkness.

It is the one word that can be used to sum up my existence.

I’ve been around long enough to know that this statement is true.

I was created into this world – not born.

I don’t remember my life before I was moulded into the form I’ve withheld for the past dozen centuries. I don’t remember who I was or what I was like.

I remember the darkness.

Waking up to nothing but the cold, vindictive darkness. It was the only thing I could feel.

Darkness.

And that was the only thing I ever felt as those demonic witches used me for their own bidding. Like a tool, not a person… a human.

I suppose I no longer was but that didn’t justify their actions.

But alas, every story has a happy ending. Mine was slaughtering them all and earning my own freedom.

I’ve built myself a name. A backbone. I built myself up.

But yet I am still surrounded by this suffocating darkness.