I am Ikarus Vhalnic, and I. . .

I wasn't really the son of a merchant, was I?

That was who I was, but it wasn't really who I am. Can you die, and still define yourself as who you were before you crossed the veil? Keep the same expectations, hold to the same creeds?

Over the past year I had been Merchantborn, and I had been Exiled. I had been a Traveler, and a Murderer. Mercenary and Demon. I had been a ****, a schemer, a fool, and a corpse. I had been dead, and then undead; both, and neither. So many shapes, so many words.

They all meant something.

They didn't mean anything.

I made a choice.

I opened the gate and crossed the yard to Varlow's brother-in-law, the man responsible for the nickname of 'thug', and gave him a gentle shove inside. He looked at me with distaste as the door closed with a soft click. "What was that-"

His eyes widened as he looked down at the black spike that sprouted from his abdomen. His eyes met mine, and I saw from both perspectives as he broke down into black dust. Nothing of him hit the ground. His name and thoughts washed over me and his life became part of mine; but it was a raindrop in the ocean of my hunger. I walked down the hallway, hearing voices from the other room. A young boy, Varlow's nephew, skidded into view and I put my hand on his forehead. He blackened instantly, leaving only a brief silhouette before crumbling away.

I didn't break pace as the boy's memories became my own.

Varlow's sister, Vivi, entered the hall. She was two years younger than Varlow, some twenty-eight summers. She had short black hair and mild blue eyes; she was tall and more handsome than pretty. Her dress covered a modest bust and slender hips, and bandana kept the hair from her eyes. She was drying her hands on a rag, and seemed surprised that I was alone.

"Hey, Var, have you s-"

She shrieked as my hand covered her mouth and roughly shoved her to the wall. She bit down, hard, but the pain was irrelevant; it wasn't my body or my pain. Her eyes shone through betrayal and rage and confusion, and I smiled in response. She peered down and caught sight my growing erection, and her struggles grew truly ****. She punched and writhed and bit as I tore her bodice. Shadow began to leak from the bloody mess of Varlow's hand as I pulled the front of her dress away, exposing her bare tits and panties. He struggles renewed at the sight of the shadow, so I pulled back and smashed the back of her head into the wall.

She fell, dazed and I took the moment to free my cock. I ripped her panties away and lined up my cock, waiting a moment for her to realize what was happening. "Varlow?"

I tore into her, pinning her hands over her head, "Vivi. You always were a bitch."

She looked mystified between moment of pain, the body was Varlows, but the words and the manner of speech was wrong. Everything about the situation was wrong. I felt myself swell, lines of black starting to appear under Varlow's skin, and **** a kiss on Vivi. Her hands jerked ineffectual under my iron grip, and she bucked as I **** Varlow's tongue into her mouth.

She bit, hard, and blood flowed from both our mouths. I gave her a crimson smile and let my true self show. Varlow's skin became a dark sludge and was absorbed into my mass. She screamed as her brother became vaguely humanoid darkness, and I **** a tendril down her throat. I came moments after, flooding her insides with my essence. I covered her completely with my mass, forcing two smaller tendrils up her nose and deposited a dollop of my body into her brain.

When I pulled myself off her, regaining a humanoid form, she was laughing quietly with a trickly of blood flowing from her nose. I walked into the kitchen as she started to moan, desperately frigging herself to satisfy a need that could never be fulfilled. I looked out the window at the house next door and caught sight of an older woman behind the glass.