Catharsis

Allow me to grant you my rage for a while as I do not need it for the time being.
Be aware however that it belongs to me and I shall remove it from you as I see fit.

Link .1

“He knows.”

“I know”

“Why is he going along with it?”

“To relive old memories.”

“But his memories are so…this is not going to end well!”

“I know.”

Link .2

Upon a corner chair made of ornately carved French oak sat the man of the hour. His eyes were but shadows as a single overhead white light beamed down upon his skull and sharpened his features.
He was not alone. Just out of his reach sat a woman dressed in white. Her bare back turned to him, straight and toned from the base of her spine to the arcane symbol tattooed upon her neck. Her jet black hair took the form of an inverted V with tips that disappeared over her shoulders. Her legs were hidden underneath a skirt that sprawled across the floor to form a half circle before her. Upon her lap, between her hands, she held a silver chalice engraved with another arcane symbol. From it slivered a wisp of smoke that rose towards her painted face. She inhaled then held her breathe and time seemed to stop in that instant.
The first ritual was now complete.

Link .3

“He wants a gift in return for his knowledge.”

“Are you willing to make that sacrifice?”

“He said that it is the only way.”

“Is that so?”

“I am willing.”

“Then so be it.”

Link .4

The first taste of the flesh is an unveiling of mystery if the mind is willing.
Once the veil has been lifted and the paths to discovery have been followed to the limits of pleasure and pain then a thirst for something other shall manifest.

Link .5

“A soul for a soul”

“In what sense?”

“His return will bring loss.”

“A void that you can fill?”

“I do not know.”

“It is not too late to change course.”

“Oh but it is. He will not falter.”

“Will he be part of the loss?”

“I do not know.”

Link .6

The witching hour had passed when the man of the moment arrived at the temple. The place was empty save for a scroll and two lit candles placed in front of a chair. The chair upon which he had been seated during the ritual.
Now was the time for farewells and although he had wished for a final embrace he knew it was not to be. A note and a hint of her hope were all he had to start his final journey.

Your Move

“You do not win a game of chess by being a chess piece but without them there is no game to play.”

X

Life moves on
Even when the vultures soar
Above and beyond
The threats to our fragile existence
We remain
Defiant and eager to breathe
For nature abhors a vacuum

Method

Start from the top
Work your way down
An eye for the king
A boot for the clown
With nowhere to run
And nowhere to hide
Be the knife to the throat
Not the thorn in the side