"Oh, yes, Alexander," whispered Nickolai. "Here. Now. You meet your maker." He took a step forward and his hand thrust around the deacon's neck. It was no longer a matter of will for him to do so. He didn't care. He wanted it to happen.

The old man was slowly lifted into the air. The Council could do nothing but watch in horror as what they could no longer consider a man clutched the holy man's throat. Alexander's legs flailed about in an attempt to kick himself free. It was as futile as kicking the walls of the cathedral.

All of his movement stopped.

The abyss that was Nickolai's eyes locked with the deacon's. Alexander had no choice to look away. He had no choice to move at all. His life, his memories, his very soul was being drawn through his eyes and plummeting into the blackness of Nickolai's. Horror was the only emotion permitted as he hurtled into the darkness. Emptiness filled his body. With a casual thump, the shell of the council member collapsed to the floor.

Nickolai had a different experience of the matter.

With the clutch of his independent hand he felt the beginnings of the pleasure. The sweet tingle rippled slowly from the tips of his fingers and coursed along his arm, mounting more and more as it traveled along his arm and seeped along his shoulders, growing stronger and stronger until it finally reached his heart. There it exploded throughout his entire body, rolling with waves of pleasure that would fell any normal man. This feeling, mixed with the roaring anger that lined his muscles, created an entirely new feeling of destructive bliss.

It was around the peak of this feeling that his eyes began to do their work. When the first wave of pleasure reached the void of his retina they began to clamor voraciously for more. Greedily they locked on to the soul across from them and started to claw and tear through the blue portals at their prize. Dragging the life back into the darkness poured more feelings of pleasure into the growing concoction. Sweet fear melded with anger and anguish melded with delight to make absolute euphoria surge throughout his body. The feeling was overwhelming.

The feeling was not enough.

Soon the purpose of his coming was lost to Nickolai. The only thing left was the feeling. Not the thought of the feeling. Just the pure utopia that it was.

He automatically repeated the process to add further to his bliss. Some of the Council tried to flee for the door, but those were grabbed first. That soul had some spice to it. This one was extra sweet. Each one was added to the vat of his exponential pleasure.

This one tasted innocent...

The black faded from Nickolai's eyes. His silver hair regained the color of gold. Blue eyes glanced around the room to see the shells of the Council littered about the room. Clutched within his hand was the body of a nun. Just the body.

An innocent nun had entered the room out of curiosity or fear when she heard the screams of the Council. She watched in the purest horror as Nickolai emptied the life from the chamber and was snatched herself in his blind lust. An innocent.

Nickolai dropped the shell to the ground. Abject despair seeped into the rolling pleasure still coursing throughout his body, changing it to something entirely new.

Nickolai vomited on himself.

He had lost control. Despite his promises. Despite his oaths. Nickolai had lost control. He could think of only one thing to do.

Nickolai...