Complexities of Creation

It seemed that no matter how much she actually did get to sleep, she never got to rest. Even on the nights she wasn’t plagued by Moros, the implication that he might surface was enough to rack her in terror. And as the dark void wrapped itself around Mariah like a shroud, she felt an icy dread seep into her bones. The nightmare was returning, and she was helpless to resist it.

Her fur bristled, the silver markings around her eyes seeming to gleam in the palpable darkness. Every nerve ending in her body screamed, anticipating the inevitable violation that lay ahead. Her crimson coat prickled with sweat, obsidian and silver blotches matted against her emaciated form. The dread of Moros's presence consumed her, the very air around her seeming to twist and ripple with the weight of her impending doom.

She was trapped. Rendered helpless as her limbs were locked into place - held down to the flat of her back. Her fore paws were fixed into place, the tops of them held firmly against the ground on either side of her head by an invisible force. Her hind legs pulled as taught from her body as they could possibly be. Her chest and abdomen exposed, vulnerable. A chilling gust of wind swept across the void, causing her to shiver uncontrollably as the chill bit into her fur and skin.

The abyss was silent, save for the steady rhythm of her own heart hammering in her chest. The sound echoed around the oppressive darkness, each beat like a countdown to her inevitable torment. She tried to scream, but as usual, she had no voice.

"Mariah Mendacium"