Darkness coated day as a black shroud, seeping in every last drop of light until the world was blind. A specific pink-haired meister stood in the cruel midst of it, indulging in the sweet cool breath of the nightly abyss. Like a drug, it swept throughout his entire being, soothing his troubled mind, and putting his conscience at ease. The subtle pulse of his faint black heart's beat gently lulled him to an unconscious state of moral sleep, his body still being used, but as a puppet's would. The lullaby of the heartbeat then stopped altogether, no longer needed; as his body was already in possession of the demon within him.

The demonic figure's pupils faded into the whites of his eyes, so that only a distant outline remained of them. Liquid black poured over his hair until it dimly shone an eerie ebony. Drippy wings of the same hue painfully sprouted from either of his shoulder blades, protruding stories high above the lanky figure from which they came. As his transformation became complete, he stared at the surroundings before him, with only dim moonlight to enable sight.

He appeared to be in somewhat of a cell, four walls of stone half-way up with the rest brick, and a heavy iron door as the only potential exit or entrance. A single bed lay in one of the corners, adorned with white and red diamond-patterned covers and one pillow.  A simple desk stood against the wall opposite the door with a table lamp on it, as well as a sentimental photograph of a pink-haired, dark-eyed boy and blonde girl smiling with sincerity. In the wall far above the desk was a tall arched window in which a very faint amount of moonlight drifted through to ever so slightly illuminate the darkness which corrupted the enclosure.

The less-than-human's eyes darted around anxiously with hunger, proclaiming that he'd devour any living thing within his range of attack. This hunger led him to mild irritation, and he desperately tried to hear anything that might-

“CRONA!!!” The now-unfamiliar voice rang throughout the corridor outside the prison as the demon cocked his head to pick up the speedy tap-tap of footsteps running toward him. The massive door was then heaved open to show the source of the voice: a young girl with blonde twin ponytails, the very same girl shown in the photograph. She wore a horrified expression on her face, and now spoke with hoarse speech donned with fear and heartbreak. “Crona?” Her emerald eyes brimmed with tears. The monster held his hand above his head and gripped a white-streaked ebony sword seemingly from nothing. Saltwater spilled down the girl's cheeks and onto the desolate stone floor as she uttered her last words.

“Why, Crona?”

The crimson liquid began to make contact with the tears shed such a very short time ago. The once-human plucked the winged soul from her corpse and began to swallow it. As this happened, the poor remains of monster's human soul screamed silently, trapped inside the possessed body without control, as though it was left there to endure the torture of watching the massacre. As if by cruel Fate's hand, the moonlight suddenly strengthened immensely, forcing the imprisoned soul to stare at his body's reflection in the pool of blood; the soul noticed the change of hair color, how much the wings had grown with insanity, but most prominently frightening: the three sideways sanguine eyes that took up most of its face, and the wide, sadistic grin that followed.