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.
"Open your eyes, my love. So I may show you how I burn for you." I felt something cold and solid brush against my cheek. "Do not hide your soul from me.."
I could not hold on any longer, my eyes opened and I saw. Deep shadow had filled the whole room, as if the interior had been teleported out to the depths of space. I was no longer in the safety of my warm bed, but being held by the void. Dark writhing tentacles kept me aloft. Slithering over my legs and my hips as it cradled me close. They curled around my fingers, circling my wrists, as they held my hands to them. Then I saw its face... A mask made out of the purest marble. So finely carved it must have been done by a master of old. Its vision was of beautiful androgyny. Their eyes burned with the swirling void. I felt as if my very soul was caught in their gaze.