Vultures, by Akorylene

Published: Dec 27 2007

It had started with a drop of blood.

It dripped on occasion, but then the drip became a spatter, and next a trickle.

The trickle became a stream and the stream became a downpour.

And I sat before the crucified cleric in the Temple of the Damned, watching the blood swirl in circles and it rushed past me to disappear through a grate in the floor.

The vampires came and went, serving in Her name. Carrying out Her divine will. But for all of their holiness, all of their devotion, not one of them noticed the river of blood upon the floor. They were caught within the coil, the cycle, the power.

Gallons of blood flowed freely, and for all of their thirst, and all of their Hunger, not one was in tune enough to tap into that power. To seize it. Carpe diem. Lost.

Of course, they had to see it first, and not simply see it, but see it for what it was.

See it. Touch it. Taste it.

His blood.

Her will.

One ending.

His body had not yet been received by the goddess (surely there would have been a ceremony!) and already, they circled the empty seat like vultures. Like drow. Home. Perhaps I was home.

Let the games begin.