Innocent Blood(156)

But do I have the strength to accomplish it?

Over the past days, he had abided the darkness and pain, fed to sustain himself, growing incrementally stronger, hoping for the might of muscle and bone to fulfill the last task asked of him by the Damnatus. The necessity for such an act had never been revealed to him, but he knew that if he did not attempt it now, he would grow weaker from here on, starving slowly in the darkness.

He turned the stone to study the strange etching on one side, inscribed faintly into the crystal.





It was in the shape of a cup—or perhaps a chalice. But this was no cup from which Leopold had so often consumed the blood of Christ. He knew the cup depicted here was far older than even Christ Himself, and that this stone was but a sliver of that greater mystery, the key to its truth.

He lifted the stone high and brought his arm down hard, slamming the crystal to the rock floor. He succeeded in chipping it, but that was not enough.

Please, Lord, give me the strength.

Leopold repeated the action over and over again, weeping from frustration. He must not fail again. He raised his arm and crashed it down. This time, he felt the crystal break within his hand, splitting into rough halves.

Thank you . . .

He twisted his head enough to see. He turned his hand. The crystal had been broken through its heart. Black oil flowed across the emerald glass and found his skin.

He screamed as it touched him.

Not in pain, but in utter and complete rapture.

In that glorious moment, he knew the rumors were true.

He watched the drop of Lucifer’s blood sink into his flesh, claiming him, consuming him fully with its darkness, leaving behind only purpose.

And a new name.

He stood, full of dread strength now, his pale skin as black as ebony. He lifted his face and howled his new name at the world, shattering stones around him with his voice alone.

I am Legion, destroyer of worlds.