The dark had always beckoned me. It would call sweetly to me as a child, beckoning me with wonders. When I reached adulthood, it would caress me, as I lay in my bed. Phantom limbs would trail over my skin, and the most smoothest voice would murmur lovingly in my ear. I knew what it wanted. I was not ready to make the same sacrifice my kin had.
My family was raised on a deep history of dark magic and knowledge. It ran through my veins, filling every atom of my being. It was how I know that I am chosen to be the host of the Watcher in the void. I found out when I had my first blood. My skin was marked by its sign. An eye surrounded by tentacles had appeared on my hip. Declaring to all who could see, I was to be its host. We were told that the Watcher is as old as time, even older than it. The betrayer banished them to the void, a shadowy depths that span eyons, simply because he was jealous of our love and devotion. Devotion we would not give to him. So we wait for a host to be chosen, and then we can begin to prepare the ritual..
But the host must be ready. A willing offering of flesh and blood is the final key ingredient. One I was struggling with. And so, while the others waited patiently, I was tempted daily, to give in. Each day more pleasing than the last.
As I lay in my bed, the familiar press of a shadowy body, pressed into mine. I did not open my eyes, hoping that not seeing what ground its hips into mine gently, would help in making it through one more night. "Please, all I wish is to love you." It cooes softly to me, his hand turning my face, no doubt so i looked up at its face.. If it even had a face.