Blackness was all I knew.

If I stopped falling, if I tried to catch myself, I would be lost. A lesser creature, trapped by his rage and pain rather than master of them. Only by punching through the bottom of the bottomless pit would I survive. I could never climb back up, I knew that all too well.

Wings ripped from my back, painful, bloody, agonizing, born of pain and rage and need and retribution. But I did not try to fly back up, instead I beat my powerful wings and pushed down, down, down. Ever down.

“Hello, little demon, little youkai.” The voice said. It was soft, feminine, I caught an image of a beautiful young woman, half living, half dead. “What are you?”

“I am Hate! I am Revenge!” I hissed, pushing harder to the depths. There was no bottom, no light, only blackness and rage, and pain.

“I see,” the voice said. “Who do you serve?”

“No one!” I roared, flying harder, “I serve only myself, only my vengeance on those who would hurt those I love!”

“Lovely!” the voice said, and there was clapping. “Beautiful. But you could be more.”

“There is no more!” I howled, wings beating harder and harder. Faster, more rage, more violence, the multitude roared, fighting each other. Thousands of souls, identities, all killing each other. That was me, we, I, us. Only one could survive, and the only way to survive was to kill and consume as we flew out the bottom of the bottomless pit.

“There will be,” she said, “If you survive, I shall show you all that which is more.”

And I fell.