When they were outside, they were always silent.

Hand in hand, walking in step. Unlike a shadow that copies the object, they were both the shadow, both the night, both the darkness.

It was April 14th, and they walked along beaches of Cape Coast. For almost 3 hours they would walk, hand in hand, silent as the night until the darkness shown upon them.

He was Boateng Tetteh, master of the Occultic arts, Professor of Dark Magiks. He was saved by a Maame Wata, what the Westerners called Mermaids, when he fishing with his father and older brother when he was 4 years old. He was frail and weak, soon to die when the sea creature offered him it’s flesh. He did not just survive the ordeal, but every other accident and incident after that. He was invincible and grew plump and strong where his family had grown weak and frail. When they threw him out of home in fear of what he had become, he did not fight it, for the weakness and fear of this family turned his stomach.

She was Dzifa, student of the Occultic arts, Princess of Dark Magiks. She stood 6 feet tall, just 2 inches shorter than her husband. She walked with the confidence of a black panther for she was not a dainty thing. Her lean muscle showed her affinity for strength and her muscular long legs told tales of dexterity and resilience. Her skin was the color of dark chocolate, smooth and riddled with scars that marked her victories. She was fiercely loyal, learning the martial arts so that her husband may be properly protected. She was his strong right hand, his protector, his companion.

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His love, much more than I could have ever been.

Their life source is from the depts of the Atlantic Ocean, their work and passion too. When the night falls, all the children of the dark gathered at the mouth of the ocean. Their great warrior, Boateng would walk into the ocean, for he required no charm or amulet to breath in the water, and wrestle with the sea creatures. He would emerge mere moments later with the corpse of a Maame Wata, always old.

No not old, ancient. One that witnessed the first ships that came from the water, one that saw the old ancient wars, one that saw the great flood that would wipe out all man.

The rest of the children of the night would feast on its flesh and blood, imbuing within themselves enhanced abilities but they were not here for that. They were there for the age defying properties granted from their unholy feast. For they were no normal unholy sect, they walked the Path of Methuselah. Their entire aim was to defeat death and become God.

As the sect feasted, they did nothing. They stood side by side, hand in hand until they all left. Dzidzor made a fire and while performing the ritual of marrow extraction, she would lay the darkened leather and cut 1in x 1in piece of it and wrap it within its plantain leaves. Then she would further divide it and place it into a calabash and place it on the fire. Her husband would pour the extracted bone marrow onto it and call upon the spirit of the moon to merge the two and they would eat.

For this was the secret of their superiority. This was why no natural arrow would break Dzifa’s skin, this was why Boateng’s research and power superseded his peers. They did not just walk the Path of Methuselah.

They ate his flesh and poisoned his holy legacy.