The young boy was tied up on the small bed, rope chafing his skin and scraping it raw. He was not the chosen one meant to do their bidding, for his will to live had long disappeared. And for his weakness he now  lay soiled and crimson stained upon the worn mattress.

Clara, the youngest sister,  was the one to end his suffering at last. Although there was to be no mercy for those who could not, would not, follow their commands, she could no longer bear to watch him fail so blindy.

She had killed him, stabbing him clean in the throat and watching his eyes turn both empty cold. She knew Angelique would be furious for the death, but Clara had grown akin to the punishment of disobedience.

Perhaps it was all for nothing, as it was only a matter of time before they sought out another child. Before they infiltrated their mind and stuffed their body with an evil so strong it could destroy the churches. None of the chosen had been able to endure it, and they all had passed within weeks. But someday, the child would be found, and all would be as it should. The sisters would have carried out their task and could bask in the darkness at last.

Someday, evil would reign even the heavens above.

(This is a VERY rough little snippet I just scrawled out to get something up on here, I hope that it isn’t too horrid to read.)