Ave, Asmodeus! Doom to You. The mirror holds the devil’s face. I check the clasp. I check the brace. Cold steel against the fevered skin. To hold the burning heat within. Polish the silver until it gleams. Ready to sever the mortal dream. It is a war. It is a dance. I am the hunger in the glance. Before the red. Before the scream. I am the shadow in the dream. A perfect strike. A lover's touch. I want it all. I want too much. No clumsy rage. No mindless hate. I dress myself. I lie in wait. The buckle snaps. The leather sings. The vanity of sharpest things. I trace the edge of the curving blade. For this sweet harvest, I was made. It is a war. It is a dance. I am the hunger in the glance. Before the red. Before the scream. I am the shadow in the dream. A perfect strike. A lover's touch. I want it all. I want too much. I hear them breathe. Unaware. The scent of panic in the air. My armour tight. My focus clear. I feed upon the taste of fear. A widened eye. A trembling chin. And now... I let the grin begin. Tighten the greave. Sharpen the claw. Obey the urge. Reject the law. The anticipation starts to swell. A private heaven. In this hell. It is a war. It is a dance. I am the hunger in the glance. Before the red. Before the scream. I am the shadow in the dream. A perfect strike. A lover's touch. I want it all. I want too much. Ready. Steady. The heart... beats... fast. Doom to You. Ave, Asmodeus!
