Darkness.

It haunts you. It seeks you, he knows where you are. What would you do when he comes for you? He doesn't want your soul, he needs your soul.

He creeps with the night. Seeking for the damned soul that has called onto him. He's a soul catcher, he's darkness himself, he's the Hound of Vengeance, General of the blood Moon.

He's a fiend.

Everyone sought a painless death. One that they go down swiftly, without enduring the pain that came before the darkness. Without the agony, with the exhilaration of the taunting feeling.

He sought pain. The feeling that hurt not only the body but the mind, that sent your mind to a state of high that nothing else matters than the signal of pain the brain had sent to the rest of you.

The one that sent him to his knees, and tore through his body. The pain that brings him to a state of emergency, that allowed him to see the darkness he had brought onto so many souls before snatching it right from their bodies.

He not only sought it, he wanted to taste it. He knew he didn't need it, he just needed to feel it, 'cause it's all in his mind.

He's a fiend.

The pain hurt so bad, but the darkness after the high felt so good.

When this creature loomed around the nearly dead he often wondered why they chose a simple and quick death. One that the darkness he'd show them was only but a flash.

A death that didn't shake the soul. He wished he could take their pain. Snuff it right from them just to taste the pain they felt. If he could he'd take the pain- not because he cared, no, because of the addiction.

He often stuck around the darkness- it was where terror was rooted from. Where pain is generated. It was familiar with this creature.

His dark cloak swept the grounds of his plush rug floor. Fingers held on to a pen, writing down on a piece of paper.

The only light that illuminated the darkness of his environment was the candle next to his paper.

His foot was tapping against the ground. He needed that release, the wave of highness that burnt the addiction temporarily. The pain addiction was taking him over- brain yelling he wanted more.

Figure getting antsy, requesting for a release, the wave of pain his body constantly needed. His mind needed it to function even if he didn't really need it.

That's when the voices sounded. Ringing in his ears. The voices of terror, screams of pain.

They had agony laced in them that he could almost taste. The screams sent electricity flowing through his body, the pain in them jerked the flame in him to life.

Sent the addicting alarm straight to his brain, and his body got the message his brain sent perfectly as his foot stopped tapping.

These voices were surplus. A collision of many, dripping with a state of excruciating pain both physically and mentally.

Mentally. The one he craved above all. It sent the best kinds of shock through his body when tasted.

These mundane voices that got his body craving, ready to burst just from the taste of their pain from their voices were from earth.

He'd never traveled to earth. He'd never had much reason to. The soul catcher had no need to venture to that realm for the pain that loomed around that realm was just like the habitats there- mundane.

It did nothing for him.

But these- these voices made his body shake. He needed a taste. Just a taste. He shot up from his seat and vanished on the spot.

His place of appearance was an estate. Night had fallen in the area. The houses were colored white, and each design resembled each other.

There was a certain feel to the place. The high feeling carried an essence of pain, terror and death. His eyes descended on the ground. Dark red substance running down the streets.

Blood.

Fresh and contained hate, malice, pain, and fear. He bunched on his black robe, and threw his head up to suck in a breath.

As he took in a breath of the emotions wafted with the scent of blood and raw angst, blood red orbs flashed within his hooded face. It was fresh, raw, and deadly. Vengeance, someone sought vengeance. Craved pain and vengeance. This person craved pain almost as much as he did.

Whatever this person was, the person was bursting with pain and suffering. The entire estate was an entire sphere of death, pain, and hate.

He needed more of this delicious feeling. Whoever carried such pain and need for raw unadulterated violence he needed to find.

The cold, high of pain in the darkness of the estate racked through his body as he stalked the street.

Red cat-like orbs browsing out the area, and he sauntered through the road, allowing the anguish that engulfed the air to drive his mind into a state of high.

Bodies laid outside the house of a huge building. Unlike the rest of the houses this one was bigger. Like a mansion.

Tall gates separated him from the building. His eyes descended down to the middle point of the black metal gates.

'Siggeir' was inscribed on the metal middle point.

The pain, and violence originated from this place. Here. Here was it born from.

His cloak drew back as his pale hand reached out to push the slightly opened gates open.

Blood stained his absurdly pale fingertips as he touched the bloody gates. Bodies laid nearest to the gates.

He could see souls. Their souls hanging around their bodies, scared and confused. Screams are getting louder, louder than ever.

He swallowed thickly.

His eyes fell on one soul that reached out to him. Scared and confused, angry that it didn't understand the pain that coursed through him.

He averted his eyes from the distraught soul to a live woman that held on to a dead man.

The man has blood all over him. His body was split into two. The woman wailed. She reached her hand towards him. Blood splattered on her wounded skin.

"Please." She sobbed. Begging for him to help.

His red orbs deviated from her crying figure as he headed towards the mansion.

The house was big. Flowers lined beautifully just outside the house. After the gates, it was quite a long way towards the mansion.

The doors were already open. There was a bloody fingerprint on the door. He could only imagine whatever ended so many lives and the bloody print.

He stepped on the bloody grounds. His boot became painted red from so much blood on the ground.

Bodies of many, human figures, and wolf figures alike. The wolf bodies laid alongside the human bodies, bloodied as well.

He shut his eyes. Wonders of what had happened swirled in his mind. He'd never cared much before for the cause, but now-now he wanted to know what caused much havoc within here.

As his mind thrummed with wonders he could almost hear the sounds of the axe being dragged on the stairs. The end of the bladed axe clanging against the stairs.

He could feel those soft hands tight against the wooden end of the axe. He could feel an intense hunger for vengeance and pain.

He could- he could really hear them. His eyes shot open at the sounds of screaming from up the stairs.

He climbed up the stairs. Following the anguish and the screams. His hands placed on each bloody print as he climbed up the stairs.

When his eyes analyzed the prints he wondered what creature had such a small print.

When he reached the stairs his eyes fell on a door. There was a red door. It was slightly opened with a bloody print plastered on it's side.

He cocked his head to the side, as he stared at the door that was almost torn right of its hinges.

An intense feeling was oozing from that room. He needed to taste from whatever was behind that door. Slowly he approached the room. Pushed the door that looked ready to fall.

His lips parted as he stared at the creature. There was a huge black wolf at the creature's feet. The wolf's head was severed from its body.

He looked up from the blood bathed huge axe, to the face of what caused this huge onslaught.

It was a she. The creature was a she. Heaving like a creature ready to pounce. She was wearing a pure white turtle neck see through with soft fabric covering the essentially.

Blood had soaked the dress completely, along with her smooth olive skin.

Red hair so dark that it seemed almost like darkness had been flushed down her diamond shaped face, until the sun from the wide glass windows had highlighted on it that the true fire of her hair gleamed.

It was curly but definitely not unruly, and styled a fringe that flushed down to her jaw.

The fringe of her hair lengthed down to her dark thick eyebrows, and olive eyelids. Her thick black eyelashes raised upwards as her mossy green eyed him warily. Her nose contour line was shaded from her curved brow bones down to the tip of her long pointed nose.

Her skin was glowing. A bright hue that cornered his darkness. A promise of vengeance and pain gleamed in her mossy green, doe-like eyes.

The waves of anger and anguish rolling from her body sent him to a high of ecstasy.

"I beseech you for your mercy Hound of Vengeance." She cried out, getting on her knees.

He cocked his head to the side and jolted an eyebrow. "Mercy?" He asked, his voice deep and hoarse.

Now this was the first for him.