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Unseen, it is. Unseen yes, and so rarely heard.

But when it is heard. It is heard well, as it screams in the night.

It creeps and crawls. Seeking out little places to go.

Yet, it also possesses the speed of the wind.

Rushing through open spaces, to crash upon whatever lies, in its wake.

It never dies. No. Never.

It may retreat, but only to fight another day.

Seeking out its opposite, it does. It needs it; craves and desires it.

With ragged fangs and razor sharp claws, it flails and bites anything that resists.

It has its purpose and will let nothing stop it.

Once it has obtained its goal.

Once it has found its opposite and taken up residence.

Once it has found its new home.

It will remain there. And why should it not?

The days of fighting and retreating are over.

It only now needs to feed upon the rest of the heart.

When it is done, a person shall never be the same again.

-from Libro tenebrarum Susurrat

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