The Master: "Given how much you've had to endure lately, I'd propose you lie down for a while... But time is of the essence, isn't it? Your bodies decay as we speak. So, no rest for the wicked, as they say."
She held the desiccated dagger before her, turning it slowly in the dim light of the study. Its leathery skin twitched, a faint, repulsive tremor.
The Master: "To feed off of an entire village... that's quite a lot of flesh. *Quite a lot of flesh indeed*..."
A predatory smile touched her lips. The violet claws of energy, which had faded, now re-ignited around her fingertips with renewed intensity. She extended her index finger, the ethereal talon glinting, and brought its tip to the dagger's hide.
The Master: "Let's see where you're keeping all of that...!"
The instant the claw pierced its surface, the dagger's dry skin didn't merely tear; it ruptured. A grotesque torrent of crimson and raw meat erupted from the puncture point, a seemingly impossible volume of viscera pouring forth, spilling onto the ancient stone floor in a steaming, quivering wave. The chamber filled with the coppery stench of blood and the wet sound of spilling guts. The dagger, jolted from its torpor, writhed in the air, a high, guttural shriek tearing from it.
Demonic Voice: "ACCKKKK..! W-WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!"
A low chuckle rumbled in the Master's chest, a sound devoid of warmth.
The Master: "My, my... and it talks, too!"
Her grin, however, quickly soured, twisting into an expression of profound annoyance.
The Master: "How utterly annoying."
The dagger, now suspended by a telekinetic grip she exerted, thrashed violently. Without a moment's hesitation, the Master plunged her entire spectral claw-hand, all four energy-talons extended, straight into the dagger's gaping, screaming maw. The shriek cut off into a wet gurgle. A fresh, even greater avalanche of flesh and gore surged from its violated throat, choking its attempts at speech, forcing it into a continuous, silent retch.
She turned her unsettling gaze to Xayn and Bazren. Their own eyes, glowing faintly in the gloom, were wide, fixed on the horrific spectacle, their undead bodies rigid with a new kind of terror.
The Master: "Quickly now... Lest all of this goes to waste."
She gestured with her free hand towards the accumulating mound of flesh, which continued to pour from the tormented artifact like a ghastly, unending tide.
With her other hand, she traced intricate, glowing sigils in the air before her. The symbols pulsed with arcane power, then, with an open palm, she pushed them forward. In an instant, Xayn and Bazren's bodies seized, locking into place, petrified and utterly immovable. Not even their eyelids could flicker.
Bazren's voice, strained and furious, echoed in the chamber, the only part of her she could still command.
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Bazren: "H-HEY! WHAT'S THE IDEA HERE?!"
The Master's expression was a mask of calm, almost serene detachment, a stark contrast to the grotesque display before them.
The Master: "The idea? Simple."
The ethereal claw around her fingers detached, coalescing into a fully formed spectral hand, violet and shimmering, which tightened its grip mercilessly around the vomiting dagger.
The Master: "To kill two birds with one stone. The void festers on your bodies... This dagger seems keen on feeding off of it. Alas, with all of the flesh it has consumed, allowing it to feed on an even more chaotic and unpredictable energy source such as black magic would be... *ill-advised*, at best. It needs to lose power, not gain even more."
The spectral hand began to crush the dagger. A shimmering sphere of purple energy materialized, expanding to encompass the artifact and the still-gushing torrent of flesh, containing the gruesome bounty.
The Master: "But, just as you have something it wants, so too does it have something you desire. Flesh. Meat. That which was taken from you."
Xayn's cyan enso eyes, the only part of him that could betray emotion, widened as the horrifying implication of her words struck him.
The Master: "A *trade*. Tar for blood, life for decay, flesh for the void..."
Xayn's voice, though he could not move his jaw, resonated with disbelief and alarm.
Xayn: "What you're doing... it is unthinkable! W-what if you fail?! What if you give it exactly what it wants? This is far too reckless...!"
The Master smiled, a slow, condescending curve of her lips, like a parent indulging a foolish child.
The Master: "My dear, I take no uncalculated risks. I can assure you... should this fail, the only ones to come to harm will be the subjects of this ritual."
Bazren: "G-great... So us!"
The Master nodded, her dark eyes gleaming.
The Master: "Indeed... All the more reason to remain silent and let me focus. Witness history being made...!"
She flexed her physical hand, and the spectral construct mimicked the motion, tightening its grip. The dagger, already disgorging its stolen life, began to audibly crack and splinter. More and more flesh poured out, the translucent purple sphere now almost entirely full to the brim with the churning, crimson mass.
The Master: "Look at that... Can't complain about not having enough material to work with. There's enough viscera here for... well, for a village."
Before long, the dagger's physical structure could no longer withstand the relentless pressure. What little remained of its leathery hide and hardened core shattered. Countless shards of blackened, void-infused material exploded outwards from its collapsing form, mingling with the slushy red mass within the sphere, visibly darkening it, thin tendrils of blackness coiling like smoke through the gore, corrupting it.
The Master: "Allow me to make this clear -- I am no miracle worker. What you will become will *not* be human. Though you will blend in society to some extent, there will be those who can see through you. There will always be something slightly... off... Your smell. Your skin."
She paused, her eyes squinting as if peering into their very essence.
The Master: "... your eyes. Some will pick up on these things. Some will pick up on others. But, most will treat you as one of their own. I suppose that's the best anyone could ask for, given your... *condition*."
She guided the flesh-sphere with a gesture, its grotesque contents sloshing, until it hovered directly before her, positioned between herself and the two immobilized undead.
The Master: "The dagger has suffered its part..."
She slowly rolled up the sleeves of her embroidered grey robes, revealing surprisingly slender forearms.
The Master: "... You must now suffer yours."