Jak Koke - Clockwork asylum

The black line edging just around the source of the light.

Now, with all the grace of a prince at a royal ball, Oscuro gently took the girl's hand and helped her to her feet.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. With each repetition, Lucero imagined that the blood stain in her soul grew fainter and fainter, until it was nearly gone. Gone also was her strange blood lust, the twisted, manipulated manifestation of her craving for the power the blood could bring.

Lucero shivered in revulsion when she thought about the things she had done, when she thought about how Oscuro had magically turned her lust for blood power into some strange, sick obsession for the blood itself.

She knew now that Oscuro had been using her all along. Everything he had done, and everything he'd caused her to do, had been a trick to keep her soul riding that fine line between light and darkness. He had managed to maintain that balance so Lucero would remain functional as the link between the real world and this one.

But was the stain on her soul really growing lighter? Could the mantra truly erase her sins?

She could tell by Oscuro's ease of movement. Before, when the black spot on her soul had lightened, it had strained Oscuro to the limit just to complete the sacrifices. Now, Oscuro moved as if he were taking a relaxing walk through a quiet park.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

As the raven-haired girl lay back on the bloody mound of dead bodies, Lucero became aware of her own scarred hands, clutching her knees. She was rocking back and forth in beat to her litany of apologies.

Oscuro looked over at Lucero and grinned, a track of spattered blood dripping down the side of his face. His violently shadowed face watched her, not the sacrifice, as he raised the gore-covered blade and let it fall.

The young girl's head nearly came away from her body as the knife cleaved the delicate skin, splitting tissue and cartilage with equal ease.

Oscuro had brought a real Chac-mool with him this time, and he bent to catch the spurting flow of life in the black granite bowl.

"We are almost there, my child, we are on the edge of the bridge," said Oscuro, his gaze still fixed on Lucero. "Soon, all of your struggle, all of your suffering will reach fruition. Soon, you will have the release you crave."

Even the sound of his voice made the bile rise in the back of Lucero's throat.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Lucero rocked faster, the words echoing in her mind until they started to run together, to become a blur of supplication.

Oscuro turned from the still twitching body, and delicately picked his way over the jumbled tangle of lifeless limbs.

He reached the last small section of the uncompleted wedge. Very near the power of the song, at the sharp edge of the outcropping, right next to the tip. But instead of finishing the wedge and bringing the dark stain to the tip of the spike, Oscuro turned back to Lucero. "Come, my child. This is a grand moment, a momentous occasion. I think it would be fitting if I shared it with the one who made it possible."

Lucero continued to rock, continued her mantra as stark horror filled her soul.

Oscuro smiled softly. "As you wish, my dear. I can understand how this glorious achievement might be a bit overwhelming for one so young." With that, he turned back toward the tip of the outcropping and raised the bowl.

No! Lucero struggled to her feet. She had to stop him, she had to keep him from completing the wedge. Dread filled her, and her soul quaked before it.

She staggered across the corpses, stumbling with every step as the flaccid limbs of dead children seemed to catch at her flesh, to block her steps.

Oscuro held his position, Chac-mool raised high, until she was only five meters from him. Then he tipped the bowl.

The thick burgundy liquid poured out, searing the cracked earth with its stain. Completing the wedge. And as the wedge closed, Lucero could hear Oscuro say in a deep booming voice, "My masters, Darke welcomes you."

A tiny sliver of darkness had edged past the singer and reached the tip of the outcropping. A mere splinter. Yet it was enough.

An icy chill crept into her limbs then, a dark, barren, numbing cold that froze her mid-step, that clenched all the muscles in her body as her very flesh revolted against the touch of pure evil. This was despair at its true depths, this was hatred in its most refined form. The only thing that kept her from losing her mind completely was the muted sound of the music.

Lucero's stomach muscles seized up and she vomited blood. It splattered on the ground, mixing with the blood of those who had died before, and began to sizzle. She continued to wretch and gag until nothing more would come out of her. With a shaking hand, she wiped the muck from her chin and slowly raised her head.

Oscuro knelt before her, a bemused smile on his dark face. "Impressive, no?"

Lucero wanted to vomit again, wanted to spew her insides all over this hateful creature in front of her, but she was too weak to even spit in his face.

His smile turned to a grin. "And, as they used to say back when I was still young, you ain't seen nothin' yet."

Oscuro stood, and walked behind her, and it took every ounce of strength for Lucero to sit back and watch him. He stood as close to the tip of the spike as he could and raised his arms in welcome. "Masters, Darke bids you to come. Crush the light that has held you back for so long. Come and take what is rightfully yours."

At first, Lucero thought she was hallucinating. The mean cold deepened for a moment, and it felt as if she were suffocating, then something moved at the corner of her vision. She turned her head, just in time to see one of the corpses, a brown-haired girl, stagger to her feet.

The girl's head toppled to the side and stayed that way, the half-moon wound on her throat gaping like a hangman's leer. Then Lucero became aware of movement all around her as the dead came to life and pushed themselves to their feet.

With a quick movement, Oscuro lifted the sacrificial dagger from the altar, and raised it. With two deft slashes, he cut diagonal wounds along his upper left forearm. Then he transferred the knife to his opposite hand, and repeated the process on the right forearm.

No blood flowed from those wounds. Oscuro began chanting in a tongue Lucero couldn't understand, but that hurt her ears.

Several of the zombie-corpses around her began to transform. They doubled over in pain as huge sharp bristles of spiny black hair pierced out of their skin. Their legs and arms changed into furry tentacles, multiplying until there were four on either side of their now-hideous bodies. Their heads flattened, and massive insect mandibles jutted with a gooey crunch sound from the base of their jaws as their eyes split and divided. That was all Lucero had time to see, because at that moment, she was slammed with the full force of the evil across the Chasm. It was a raver's madness, a lunatic's cruelty, a rapist's glee at the subjugation of all it surveyed.

I'm sorry. I'm sor- As Lucero's consciousness faded, the knowledge that her sins had allowed this to happen struck her with desperate force. The hollow, cadaver sound of Oscuro's laughter echoed around her as his new forces made a slow advance toward the light.

Lucero knew it was only a matter of time before the song was silenced. The light quenched.

And like herself, the beauty turned to ugliness.

Abomination.

On the floor of the arboretum, Ryan straddled the cyborg body covered in gore, feeling as if time stood still as Burnout's cold metal fingers squeezed down on his throat. Blackness crept in like ink on the periphery of Ryan's vision as the power of the Dragon Heart surged through him.

Suddenly, Ryan felt Lethe bring his influence to bear, pushing against Ryan's hold on the Dragon Heart.