We were three.

Young women, standing on the shores 
of a calm pristine lake.
Fearless and arrogant.
Blissfully unaware of the path we were about to take.
Nefarious magicians, skilled in the black arts.
Notorious warriors, unequalled in these parts.
Strengthening our swords with a simple ancient spell.
Careless whisper, unleashed the unmitigated fury of hell.

We fought as best we could.
Our best alas, was no damn good.
Overwhelmed and possessed.
Gagged and shackled to the bottom of dank filthy holes.
Watching helplessly, as the spawns of Satan, defiled our souls

Laying waste to the countryside.
Raid after bloody raid.
Our own dirty beds we selfishly made.
Suffering more with each passing day.
As more and more of our humanity, slips away.
Find myself uttering the occasional prayer.
They will I'm sure, fall on some deaf ear.
Or perhaps, someone, someplace will understand.
I have no taste for the flesh of my fellowman.

We are three.

Young women, standing at the edge of a lush green forest.
A hastily made camp.
Children playing.
Adults laughing.
Dogs barking.
An hour from sunset.
Friendly people.
Minutes from certain death.
Clear sky, cloudless, tinged with dull orange, yellow and red.
Midnight black, the primary color, inside my head.

I see the world through my eyes and the vision of another.
Gazed in horror as we're approached by a smiling mother.
Heard it, that spine-tingling sound I use to live for.
My blade, twenty-seven glorious inches. 
Swiftly, smoothly, clearing leather.
Then from the depths of my wretched dreams.
Pandemonium.
As the innocent screams...

DaemonS