Quest

He plunges deeper. And finds her depths. Her soul wriggles like a worm on a hook. He can feel her depravity. The witch. The bitch. Her body a tomb against his carnage.

His hands fully immersed in the morass, crawling with maggots, buzzing with flies. There is only blackness within her cavity. Within her resides no heart. No functioning moral compass. Only inky darkness where her compassion should exist.

He pulls his hands out of the gore, wiping his forehead in thought, smearing blood across his face. What he seeks isn't here. Innocence. The killings will continue. The quest continues.