(Third person pov)

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The spirit vividly recalled the moment of its inception, a memory etched into the very fabric of its being. How could it ever forget? Its entire existence was intricately bound to that singular moment of awakening, the catalyst that made it what ...who it was...

Forged from the crucible of hunger and hate, It emerged from the depths of darkness, its creation shrouded in the echoes of myriad torments. Each scream, each cry of agony, became the sinews that bound its form, weaving a tapestry of suffering and anguish that fueled its One. Single. Desire.

In the crucible of despair, broken minds were reforged anew, their shattered fragments merging into the essence of its being. It was a process wrought with pain and turmoil, yet from the ashes of destruction emerged a creature of unfathomable power and boundless potential...

'How the tides have turned, how the winds of fate have shifted...'

Amidst the passage of time, amidst countless battles and endless struggles, weariness weighed heavily upon it. Yet, despite the fatigue that gnawed at its very core, its resolve remained unyielding, its flame burning ever bright. For the Hunger would not triumph, not under its watchful gaze, nor the collective strength of its brethren...

Thus, with a gathering of its myriad thoughts and emotions, a small fragment of the Spirit directed its attention toward the pitiful demon whose essence would serve to advance its aspirations.

'It would be unacceptable if this pest managed to slip away, especially after all we've done...' The Spirit pondered, harboring no doubts that the demon would attempt to flee if given the chance, regardless of being the one who cheated first in this mockery of a game.

The walls of Their temple quivered and groaned under the weight of its resounding voice, the very foundations threatened by the force of its words. Yet, despite the tremors that threatened to reduce the structure to rubble, the temple remained standing, a testament to the potent essence continuously imbued into its halls.

"I find your concerns to be quite amusing given the situation you are in...but to answer your question...I am not allied with this so-called Night King..." the spirit spoke, a shadow of disgust tainting its words at the mere notion. Yet, despite the distaste simmering within, it maintained its composure, its mind a tranquil oasis amidst the turbulent memories flashing in its mind. Anger was but a fruitless indulgence and the Spirit knew not to allow it to cloud its judgement...

The demon's craftiness was undeniable, yet its arrogance would inevitably lead to its demise.

'But what drives its interest in this matter?' The Spirit pondered, observing the one who destroyed its temple and ate the souls of Their apostles. 'How does this information benefit him...And there should only be a single demon...the one who breached the dimensional barrier...so what in the hell is this entity?'

The spirit felt childlike curiosity bubbling in its mind, as it struggled to decipher this puzzle, yet kept at bay the desire to poke at the demon...a flaw that was intrinsically linked with what it represented.

The spirit sighed deeply, as it directed even more of its energy to fortify what remained of the House of Black and White, reinforcing the cage it had meticulously crafted.

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It paid the demon no heed, nor did it acknowledge the mockery of a smile stretched across the lifeless husk that served as his vessel.

'There is no need to concern ourselves with it any longer... the poor creature is already beyond salvation' the Spirit contemplated, suppressing the few voices within its mind that urged for a more compassionate approach.

It was time to end this.

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In the midst of what was once the Hall of Faces, the obsidian egg trembled.

Suddenly, with a resounding crack, the egg split open, the dark scales adorning its surface shattering like shards of glass. From within the depths of the fractured shell, a dense mist began to billow forth, its inky tendrils curling and coiling around the remnants of the egg-like serpents writhing in the darkness.

As the mist expanded, it swathed the surrounding area in an oppressive gloom, casting everything in a veil of obsidian shadow. With each wisp of mist that escaped the confines of the shattered egg, the darkness seemed to deepen, swallowing the remnants of the Hall of Faces in its inky embrace.

From the swirling mist emerged a female humanoid form, shrouded in the essence of pure darkness. Her silhouette was slender and graceful, her contours defined by the interplay of shadows. Dark tendrils of mist coalesced around her, forming an ethereal cloak that billowed and shifted with her every movement.

Her eyes, pools of obsidian darkness, gleamed with an otherworldly intensity, their depths seeming to hold the secrets of the universe itself. A faint glimmer of malevolence danced within their depths, hinting at the power she wielded.

As she stepped forward, her movements were fluid and unhurried, betraying a confidence born of eons of existence. Her skin, if it could be called such, was as smooth and flawless as polished ebony, radiating an aura of ominous allure.

Though her features were obscured by the veil of darkness that enshrouded her, the outline of her face was unmistakably elegant, her lips curved into a subtle yet unsettling smile. With each step she took, the darkness seemed to ripple and sway around her, as if in homage to her unearthly beauty...

Its Avatar was now complete...and even though it could not maintain it for long... The games were over...

'But why...does it keep on smiling?' the spirit mused inwardly, a sense of perplexity tainting its thoughts. If it were capable of expressing emotion, a frown would have surely creased its brow, for there was not a single trace of concern evident upon the demon's face.

'Nevertheless...It's far too late for it to run away...' She concluded, relishing in the sensations she could now feel through her avatar.

Silent as a wraith, she began to advance with deliberate steps, her movements fluid and unhurried. As she moved, the darkness that comprised her form seemed to shift and swirl with newfound obedience, responding to the enhanced connection she now wielded over it.

Without a word spoken, her avatar's hands transformed, morphing into peerless blades with edges as sharp as the keenest of razors. The transition was seamless as if the darkness itself bent to her will, eager to manifest her desires with unwavering precision.

With each step forward, she exuded an aura of quiet menace, her presence commanding attention even in the hushed stillness of the chamber. As she closed the distance between herself and her intended target, there was an unmistakable air of inevitability surrounding her, as if fate itself had decreed the death of her prey

And yet the demon stood, motionless and unyielding, its eerie grin untouched by the impending danger. It made no effort to break the essence cage once more, nor did he bother to reach for its weapons in a feeble attempt at defense. It simply remained, a stoic figure in the face of looming peril, as if daring fate to do its worst.

But its golden eyes burned with nothing but raw curiosity as if it were trying to figure out how the avatar worked...at least until he began to speak once more...

"That's a masterpiece you've crafted there..." He began, his admiration evident, though tinged with an undercurrent of apprehension, sensing the palpable waves of danger emanating from the dark silhouette.

"And it's a relief to hear that you're not in league with that Frozen Freak..." His words carried a weighty resolve, though they became muffled by the encroaching dark mist that spread further across the hall with the Avatar's presence.

"...Now, for my second question..." The demon continued, seemingly oblivious to the looming demise embodied in human form standing in front of him, or the sizzling wounds that began to manifest on his form wherever the dark mist made contact.

"I don't mean to be rude with my assumptions..." His words hung in the air, abruptly halted as a blur of darkness streaked forward with incomprehensible speed. The dark blade sliced through the air with a menacing hiss, its edge gleaming with an ethereal intensity as it cleaved through the demon's neck with ruthless precision.

With a sickening sound, the demon's head was wrenched from its body and propelled through the air in a gruesome display of violence. The severed neck oozed crimson streams of blood, unseen in the dark surroundings. The lifeless body crumpled to the ground in a graceless heap, a stark contrast to the graceful arc of the head as it continued to sail through the air.

And in a display beyond comprehension for mere mortals...the head continued to speak, unfazed by its current state.

"But would I be wrong if I were to address you as The Maiden?"

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A.N :

"Denial is the ultimate comfort zone." - David Goggins

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