Lucy Fur

"We, Mysterious initiates. Perpetual night, obliterates".

Embraced red and the hour was long.

An ancient song.

No offering but a mad-horse dragging them along.

There they stood.

Encircled a mock tomb.

A vast and Great Owl, with a large hood.

A kept Barren Womb.

“Cut, the blood flows.

Stand still on the circled stones the bones know.

Make it run. Make it pour.

Only death will they abhor”

Leading lady, Lucy Fur all set to shine as she casts.

“I tripped the Demon. Tripped in. Tripped a lid”

Goddamn right she did.

A utopia was born from inside the room.

Bucket of Blood, deep in this well-known forgotten saloon.

Once more suspended in animation, bonded to an infinite sight - a silhouette so bright.

Void empowered by regeneration.

The trip.

Worship to Isis and Osiris.

A first of many infinite crisis’.

Yet, our leading lady dreamed remembrance.

Confronted and saved by her own darkness.

Her Sisters sang -

“The Shades, are singing like hell.

Lamenting salvation stolen from them.

Oh, The Shades, They cry.

Scattered above, and down below.

To die.

Bow down, to my wounded knees.

Immaculate sinners, feeble apologies.

Starring at the pillars as they bleed.

The risen fire, it consumes me.

Blazes of a set forgery”.

“With me now”, She exclaimed.

“Speak black mirror.

Inch nearer.

I am here.

To drive the dagger deeper.

Show me swift.

Show me how.

Show me Rite.

Show me Right now.

Speak mocked mirror.

To your mocked saint.

A perpetual day.

Hidden in clay.

Yours truthfully, from the waters of immaculate evil.

We incite, to Double Cross the Devil”.

*From the Owl tomb it appeared*

A Demon King. He was impressed.

“I am Creator-Destroyer. Builder-Berserker. The knowledge is mine. The mantle steadfast. The secret fire forever remains. The…”

A mantle fell low. Lucy knew what it meant.

Another successful spell cast.

They devoured another principality.

She accepted the cloth, but not as to take the form as the former, but to start a war.

The War of the Veil.

“The secret fire runs wild to the sky”, Lucy spoke through clinched teeth. “Master-Usurper, is I”

The illustrious otherworldly sigils stolen, and hundreds of principalities conjured forth and properly battled, prepared her. The power of saving herself through thought was just the beginning. It was more than manifestation of power. Fruits of the divine with added ledger, constantly bled darker. It had to be more. A darkness kept seeping in beneath the good intentioned ore. “It’s always Them”. She said to herself.

A newly appointed coven leader. She was surrounded by her white luminaries – her sisters – through the thick fog and blackness. She needed one more sigil to the collection. One more to raise attention. All is the same path ahead.

There wasn’t much to offer the price for initiation into an ancient sisterhood, but the mad-horse dragging her along. It wasn’t just a chant.

Nor was her anger good enough, forged deep in the past. The only scrape was her longing for an audience. An audience with an old kind - Another proud Demon King with knowledge of Them. A principality with only wisdom to hem.

Outside in the thick blackness and fog, she slowly walked to the front of the tomb. She knew she was being watched. You could taste the deafening quiet. A thick atmosphere came upon her Sisters.

An all knowing spirit emerged from an opening in the top of the main.

Another Demon King was upon them.

“Sisters be calm. Join me now”.

Yet, another successful spell was cast.

A Lucy Fur was set to shine.

Alive, glimmered with furious streaking light.

She divined her lines and cast them all the time.

Spoke weakness, bled endless upon the countless dead.

To her Sisters, just among the rest of piles of bones of Demon King Carcasses.

*A heralded call to deal with the most beautiful unheralded gall of Them All*