The Middle Passage
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It was a strange magnetism that drew you towards the abyss: a newly discovered a natural inclination for the dark and dispossessed- you could say, the very same one that drew you to Darkmoor in the first place. My, things were starting to make a lot more sense…
Surrounding you, the air grew colder and colder as you trudged on. Then you arrived. You weren't sure when you’d arrived- you simply stopped moving. As you stood there, frozen, you felt something- your chin, grasped by some unseen force.
The darkness sighed,
“There you are…”
Part of you knew you should run, as is the general custom when a mysterious man caresses you in a strange, dark room. Yet, as if every ounce of cortisol were drained from your body, you felt not a shred of fear. Body and soul compelled, you gazed up at oblivion. “Who am I speaking to…?”
“I hardly find that important. But you…” While you couldn't feel any warmth from the speaker's breath, he cooed directly into your ear, igniting delicious nerves traveling down your neck. “You are precisely the mortal I’ve been searching for.” You shivered at the sensation, a twisted bliss coming over you.
The spider was spinning a web for the unwary fly. “I’m a very intuitive man, my dear,” the voice continued. “I can tell. For one who has not lived even a single lifetime…you are wise.” The subtle snarl in his voice, the slow trickle of his words… Ensnared by this enigmatic figure before you, you could feel your last shreds of free will clinging on by a thread.
“You can be of service…Definite service, to me…”
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