The price

"The god of massacre?" Ealdred's voice trembled, his words a feeble whisper against the suffocating darkness. "What could a deity of such unspeakable horror desire from a wretch like me? A soul deemed unworthy even of damnation?"

The words hung in the air, a spectral echo of desperation. The malevolent presence before him seemed to feed on his vulnerability, its laughter a haunting chorus that reverberated through the abyss.

The truth of his insignificance gnawed at Ealdred's sanity, a relentless reminder that his very existence was a fleeting breath within the tapestry of cosmic indifference.

"You, feeble creature," the entity hissed, its voice dripping with sinister intent, "shall become the harbinger of massacre, the vessel through which death and destruction shall be wrought upon the world. In exchange for this unholy purpose, I shall grant you a twisted salvation—an escape from the suffocating abyss that binds you."

Ealdred's heart raced, his mind a tempest of dread and turmoil. The proposition was a macabre dance of torment and temptation, a choice between eternal suffering and becoming an agent of unfathomable malevolence. The weight of his decision pressed upon him, threatening to shatter his fragile resolve.

"You shall metamorphose into a monstrous entity," the entity's words slithered, an icy grip of terror constricting Ealdred's heart. "A spawn of my dark design, destined to be both my progeny and my devoted servant."

Ealdred's mind churned in a maelstrom of torment, his thoughts a tumultuous tempest as he grappled with the dire ultimatum laid bare before him.

A pregnant pause hung in the air, his consciousness teetering on the precipice of an irreversible choice—one that would forever bind his fate to the malevolent being that loomed before him.

His voice trembled as he finally spoke, the words a quivering testament to his desperation and resignation. "I... I accept, oh my God, oh my master," he stammered, the weight of his decision settling upon him like an oppressive shroud. "Please, free me from the shackles of this abyss, and I shall be yours for all eternity."

The words, once spoken, seemed to echo with a haunting finality, sealing Ealdred's pact with the entity that personified the darkest depths of malevolence.

His fate, now inexorably entwined with the god of massacre, hung like a specter over his trembling soul, casting a pall of dread that would forever alter the course of his existence.

"Ah, how splendid," the creature crooned, its voice a discordant melody that grated against Ealdred's senses. "A most fortuitous decision, young one. You have unknowingly sealed your destiny, binding your existence to the dark currents of my insidious machinations."

The malevolent deity extended a gnarled finger, its very touch exuding an aura of dread. With deliberate slowness, it positioned the finger beneath its crimson-stained eye, allowing a single, glistening tear of blood to adhere to its tip. The sight was a grotesque dance of agony and maleficence, a morbid offering that seemed to bridge the gap between the realms of the living and the damned.

His twisted claw, stretched out towards Ealdred with an insidious allure. The grin on the malevolent deity's face contorted further, the very embodiment of sadistic delight. "Drink it," its voice slithered like a serpent's hiss, "and you shall be bound to me for eternity—a willing slave to my insatiable hunger for chaos and suffering."

Ealdred's lips parted, and the god placed his blood of suffering upon Ealdred's quivering tongue.

The moment the vile liquid touched his senses, a searing agony erupted within him, as if his very soul was being branded by the essence of torment itself.

The taste was an abomination, a cocktail of anguish and malevolence that clawed at his senses and threatened to consume his very being.

"Swallow it!" The god's command thundered through the air, a guttural roar that echoed with an unnerving power. From within the crimson light, a chorus of inhuman voices emerged, a cacophony of sinister whispers that slithered like serpents in the shadows.

"Drink it!" The voices entwined, a dissonant harmony of coercion that clawed at Ealdred's very sanity. "Swallow, and become the vessel of our master!" "Do it!" the voices chorused, each word a chilling echo that reverberated through the suffocating darkness.

Ealdred stood on the precipice of a harrowing choice, the weight of his decision pressing upon him like a vice. The collective whispers seemed to worm their way into the deepest recesses of his mind, each syllable a sinister enticement that sought to bind him to an eternity of servitude.

The voices surged in intensity, their chilling chorus rising to a crescendo of malevolent fervor. "Accept this honor!" they exalted, their words dripping with a perverse allure that twisted Ealdred's perception. "Do it, do it, do it!"

The chant became a relentless mantra, a hypnotic rhythm that seemed to seep into his very soul. "Don't waste the blood," the voices hissed, their tone a blend of mockery and menace, a reminder of the dire consequences that awaited.

Ealdred stood transfixed, the weight of the moment bearing down upon him like a crushing weight. The voices, a symphony of darkness, enveloped him, their insidious entreaties weaving a web of enticement and dread.

In a surge of fear and determination, Ealdred dared not linger any longer. With trembling resolve, he swallowed the blood of suffering, the viscous liquid sliding down his throat like a bitter elixir.

The moment it passed his lips, the cacophony of voices abruptly ceased, as if snuffed out by an unseen force. The abrupt silence that followed was suffocating, a stark contrast to the overwhelming chorus that had enveloped him just moments before.

As the blood of suffering coursed through Ealdred's veins, an immediate and agonizing transformation seized him. A searing pain erupted within him, as if a horde of ravenous creatures gnawed at his very core, their insidious hunger tearing through his flesh from the inside out.

It was as though his body had become a vessel for torment, a writhing battleground where his own existence clashed with an overwhelming force of malevolence.

Every fiber of his being seemed to scream in protest, his skin crawling with a sensation akin to a thousand tiny claws seeking escape.

It was a torment beyond measure, a nightmarish ordeal that defied all comprehension and left him gasping for breath, his anguished cries swallowed by the abyss.

"Now you are mine," the otherworldly creature hissed, its voice dripping with a chilling blend of triumph . The words echoed through the void, each syllable a malevolent proclamation that sent shivers of dread down Ealdred's spine.