“Cum haec cutis recreare et rosis. His passeres, lignumque ossa vestra sum vobis. Et sanguis meus dominus et ego rogabo reddere tenebris vestrum animabus vestris. Fratres secundum hominem audire verba mea, covina est periculum nostrum. In hoc carmine dona mihi animam meam, animam meam, ut fructum tetigit diaboli, qui in magia.”
The words are spoken and something inside of you clicks. Seconds later you feel something you haven’t felt in awhile: warm blood running through your veins.
Your soul, or what’s left of the soul you once had rattles for only a moment; then everything goes dark like before.
Then there’s a hiss; one you’re familiar with. Next comes the brassy whisper, “My darkness fills you once again; my love feeds you once again; my powers are yours.”
And like that you’re breathing again. Instantly you feel his gifts; the magic pulsates throughout your being. You’re alive again.
“Sisters.. Brothers,” you hear a raspy voice call out, “We’ve asked the Dark Lord to breathe life into you once more.”
“Dark times have fallen,” you barely hear this voice; a whisper in the wind.
“We’ve sacrificed everything to bring each of you back,” a deeper voice growls, “Sisters and brothers the Dark Lord’s war is here and we need your help.”
“What year is it,” someone next to you crooks; you instantly realize you weren’t the only one pulled back to earth.
“It’s December 9th, 2049,” it’s the deeper voice that answers.
“2049,” someone questions.
“Yes, 2049, and not only is there a war on Witches but World War III has been raging on for almost ten years.”
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