â€śIâ€™m sorry, Sara.â€ť The words escape my lips before I know what they mean. There is a screaming howl building up in my head and I drop to my knees, hands striking the floor before me as I fight to unleash the shrieking horror within me and-
-Insignificant cracking noises as the tiles beneath him shatterâ€¦a rush of cold wind as ink black wings unfurl and snap to full length, blotting out the unnatural, industrial light. He (it) stands, pale skin marred by a myriad of scars, ebony hair twisting around It like tattered ribbons. Itâ€™s hands spread before It sends Itâ€™s hatredâ€¦no, not his hatred, its simpler than thatâ€¦It sends itâ€™s intentâ€¦towards the unsuspecting humans and-
Oh God, the power.
-They crumple like paper dolls before an inferno. But its not flames that consume these poor mortals, it is Itâ€™s coldness. An all-consuming, all pervading chill of the soul trapped for ten thousand years (which is too long and yet not long enough but). The shock wave ripples further past the shadowed creature. Light bulbs shatter, the light flickers and dies. There are no screams as the coldness expands, just quick gasps at the hell that is being alone, forever alone-
I had forgotten.
-The humans collapse like so many unbalanced statues, their souls shattering before blessed oblivion takes them. The shadowed figure stares ahead, realisation dawning and eyes unseeing. The floor grows old and stained beneath his feet. All around him, tendrils of entropy spread silently outwards, eating away at everything they touch. Metal rusts and cloths unravel and-