Darkness of the Soul by Kaine Andrews

terror, buddy. Welcome back to the world of emotions. Enjoy the ride.

Chapter 7 
    2:00 am, October 12, 1986
    The walls thrum with the power put out by the thing in the middle of the room, making the crude frames dance and making it hard for the man to keep upright as he steps in. Every few seconds, the thrumming pauses and then booms out again, sending sonic shockwaves through the chamber and making the intruder’s brain jiggle in his skull as it tries to find a way to leak out his ears. The time between each of these beats has been shortening steadily since the intruder came into the building, and now they’re only a minute or two apart, at best. He’s waiting for them to pick up to a heartbeat rhythm, hopefully before the force of it crushes his mind.
    The intruder has been waiting for several hours now and may wait several more. His hands drip gore from their last act before entering this chamber. Murdering the keeper had not proven nearly as difficult as he had thought it might. He considered this pleasing, a sure sign that he was to be the next. The gore does not bother him, for he has spilled blood before and will surely spill it again in his time of service. All that matters is the waiting and the opening of the way.
    Though it will be many years before he knows the date and years after that before the day comes, here and now is the first time that he knows the way will be opened in his lifetime. It is here that the man called Karim Alvat is laid to rest—though he may use that name, when it suits him—and it is here that Karesh ibn Karesh is born, his body bloodied with the trauma of his coming, and his soul nearly torn asunder by the force that has called him.
    Though the Karesh of the now, the one who dreams this night again and again, does not know it any more than the Karim/Karesh who stands in the chamber on the former day, he has soiled himself, excitement and terror in equal measure loosening his bowels and thrusting him to orgasm simultaneously. He neither notices nor minds the smells or the shudders that overtake him as the heartbeat sounds again, forcing more of the human filth from his body.
    And I shall come among them, and be as a God to them, the dream-Karesh thinks, and the Karesh who dreams it smiles in his sleep. A pigeon, roosting on the fire escape, sees that smile and falls dead from its perch; cats in heat yowl with finality before tearing each other apart. Neither does Karesh notice.
    The light in the chamber—coming from the object at its center—begins to fade, and even though it is no longer light, Karesh finds he may see in it regardless. This was the first blessing the talu`shar brought to him, that he may see even when all others would be blinded. In the new darkness, Karesh felt his other senses likewise increasing, until he could smell the blood that had been used to forge the talu`shar , until he could hear the crickets outside, until he could feel and hear and smell his own blood rushing through his veins. At no moment, before or since, has he been as alive, as commanding of his body and all the information it processes, and he longs each night for this clarity, knowing it will only come again when he has completed his task.
    “Come to me, Warden, and forge your bargain.”
    The voice is not one he hears with his ears, though they strain to do so. It is a voice for taste and sight, one beyond any hearing but likewise beyond any disobedience. He could see the pulses coming from the talu`shar , and taste the command in the air, while his mind processed it into coherent order. Such was the way of the magic, bypassing the organs most associated with deceiving their owner and penetrating into the heart and soul.
    “Come to me, blood of my blood, son of my sons. Come, Karesh, son of Karesh, and be my Warden.”
    The song of the talu`shar could not be ignored by even the greatest of men, were they unwilling. The former Karim perhaps carried the potential for greatness, but his will