December 16th, 2011
“GET OUT,” he creaks from somewhere within my wonderful molten form. “I’LL EXPLODE!” And sure enough, my occupation of this body is putting it under a great deal of added strain, it will not be able to sustain us both for long. No matter. Now that I have come this far, used its body to carry out the arcane acts that will allow me to activate my next, darkest spell, I will soon be able to ascend into my new form, and from there, carry out my ultimate act of destruction.
“YOU MEAN YOU’RE GOING TO GIVE ME MY BODY BACK?” he squawkes. And yes, I am, in a sense. Rather, I am going to vacate it, upon which it is very likely the Spirit of Antichristmas, being a conceptual entity, will find itself inhabiting a new body unsullied by the crude magic I was forced to use in order to inhabit it, in that desperate moment.
Then I will be able to reach my destination. Claus follows me, but he is constantly distracted, still attempting to fulfil his hilarious goal of delivering presents to all the children before Christmas Day. While he is thus occupied, I will snuff-out that which opposes me. Greater than Claus, greater than the prophecies, I will strike at the very heart of Christmas itself! I WILL DESTROY THE GRAND FATHER!!
Don’t be obtuse, you dreadful creature. If we are forced to cohabit inside a single mind during this temporary arrangement, it would be to our shared benefit if you were to KEEP QUIET. The Grand Father to which I refer is the tree that grew from the seed at the heart of the Christmas Star. It is responsible for all that I despise, and I will see it crushed. For if I do not… a terrible fate awaits me.
Mark my words: if something is not done now, then some day, somewhere down the line, that tree is going to be the end of me.
Utterly certain. I studied the fact for my dissertation.
“OH, REALLY? THAT’S A VERY SPECIFIC DISSERTATION, WHAT LINE OF WORK ARE YOU IN?
Medicine. I’m an end-o’-me-tree-ologist.